Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am (23 page)

Fun with a bunch of women who were submissive like her yet assertive as all get-out. “I’d love to join you.”

* * * *

Near suppertime, Sam walked into a small diner near the University of South Florida and saw Linda’s children had shown up. Probably not because they wanted to cooperate with his instructions, but because they needed someone to fight with.

If they took him on, he’d have to figure they hadn’t inherited their mother’s brains.

A half-full iced tea sat in front of the girl, a can of Pepsi in front of the boy. Looked as if they’d been there awhile.

When he slid into the booth across from them, the girl startled. The boy managed to suppress his reaction…somewhat.

Sam leaned back and studied them. They had their mother’s rich brown eyes. Brenna had Linda’s figure. Charles had her nose and determined chin. His anger increased. Her own blood was destroying her. Refusing to speak with her. Calling her names.

As his silence continued, Brenna shifted uneasily in her seat.

Charles’s mouth was tight; his fingers around the can were white-knuckled. “You wanted to speak to us, right?”

“I did. Your mother talks about you, you know. She’s proud of you.”

Charles answered. “Yeah, well we’re not proud of her, the—”

“If I bust your jaw, she’ll be pissed off at me,” Sam said mildly. “I’m a sadist. I’d enjoy seeing you suck your meals through a straw.” Actually, it would bother the hell out of him.

The boy turned white. When the girl started to slide out, Sam set his boot on the seat beside her, blocking her escape. “Let’s be polite here. I’ll have my say. You do the same. We’ll be done.” He nailed her with a look that made most people cower.

She cringed, then raised her chin. “Go on, then.” Like her mama, the girl had guts.

“Smart girl. First, let me see if I got my facts right. Your dad died when you were little. Your mom ran the store to make money, raised you both, and used his life insurance money to pay for your tuitions. She covers your rent every month.” He set his gaze on the boy. “She works hard for you. What do you do for her, besides calling her names?”

Charles scowled harder as if to cover up his guilt. “We help her with stuff at the house. Yard work.”

“We watched the house while she was gone,” Brenna offered. Her frown said she saw the imbalance.

A waitress walked up. “What can I get you folks?”

“Come back in ten minutes,” Sam growled.

With a gulp, she retreated.

Yeah, he might still be a tad angry. So were the children. In fact, Brenna’s expression was a duplicate of Nicole’s when she was pissed off at him. His daughter wasn’t a brat, and these two didn’t seem like brats either. But if they weren’t and considering what Linda went through, why the hell were they acting like this?

From ignorance? He rubbed his jaw. How much did they know of what she’d been through? Many of the trials had been conducted in closed courtroom sessions. The violently graphic details—especially for the victims who’d lived—had been withheld from the press. “What did your mother tell you about what happened to her?”

“We read the papers. We know.” Charles turned a dark red. “We didn’t talk about it.”

Hell
. She’d kill him for clueing her kids in. “You understand she was raped.”

Brenna’s chin lifted. “But she likes—”

He slapped the table, shutting her up. “There’s a
goddamn
difference between kinky games with someone you like and…”
Don’t yell at them, Davies
. “If I strip you, dump you in the slums, and let every lowlife there take a turn, that’s
rape
…and that’s what your mother endured.”

Both kids turned white.

“Your mama has scars on her back. Not from fun, but from a bastard ripping the skin open with a whip.”

Brenna’s breath hitched; Charles was silent.

“She befriended a girl your age, Brenna.” He gave them an even look. “You know your mom. She’s a mother to everybody, right?”

The kids nodded.

“The girl was sold and then beaten to death.” His belly still turned over at the thought. “Your mom cries for her. She testified against the man and came out of the courtroom as shocky as if she’d had her guts ripped out.”
Dammit, Linda, you should have shared some of this.

“We didn’t know,” Charles whispered.

Sam snorted. “Your mother protected you all her life. She wanted to be strong for you.”

“She went to Aunt Wendy’s. And she looked horrible when she left.” Brenna glanced at Charles. “But then we thought it was, like, a vacation. Only it wasn’t, was it? She said it wasn’t.” Her hand covered her mouth. “I-I didn’t believe her.”

When he’d pushed, Linda had grudgingly shared some with him. “She had panic attacks. Was throwing up a few times a day. Screaming her way out of nightmares. Going through counseling. Hysterical one day, depressed and suicidal the next. Hell of a vacation.”

“Oh, Mommy…” When Brenna burst into tears, Sam forgave her. But the little bastard hadn’t said a word, was staring out the window.

Sam’s hand fisted, and then he saw tears rolling down the kid’s cheek. He’d clenched his jaw…and his chin was quivering. Macho boy had a tender heart, after all.

Job almost done. Wrap it up
. “So. Your mama might like sex with a side dish of kink, but doesn’t mean she asked for any of that.” He rose. Add a threat if they gave her any more trouble? No, they looked shell-shocked. “Call her. She’s had enough grief. Doesn’t need it from the ones who are
supposed
to love her.”

When they both flinched, he slapped the table in satisfaction and walked away.

As he strode down the street, he pondered his next problem. How was he going to keep Linda from killing him when she learned he’d given her children a come-to-Jesus talk?

Linda parked her car in the small parking area at the side of Sam’s house and got out, disappointed his truck wasn’t there.

After greeting her with a quick lick of her fingers, Connagher returned to his front porch perch. Sam had said the dog “supervised” from there.

The construction crew was still working on the stable. Leaving her purse in the car, Linda wandered over to watch. They were amazing—like a choreographed musical with the dancers wearing jeans and T-shirts. Piece by piece, she could see the building coming together.

“You must be Linda.” A rough voice came from behind her.

She spun. A huge, dark-faced, scarred man loomed far too close, and she stumbled back.
Run!
Even as she recognized him as one of the construction crew, the icy fear refused to abate, forcing her to retreat another step. She couldn’t think—

“I’m Nolan. Saw you at the club.” He stood with Sam’s quiet patience. His face even held the same “panic if you need to, I’ll wait” expression.

The club? Of course. The subs at the Shadowlands had pointed him out. Her heart slowed to a mild gallop as she realized this was the Dom she’d said would step over a person’s body without looking back. Up close, he was even more intimidating. “I’m sorry. You startled me and I—”
Was afraid you were a slaver
. Um, not a polite thing to say.

“I’m not one of the bad guys, although my wife might disagree at times.” His grin came and went so fast she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “Beth said she was going to have lunch with you today.”

Just shoot me now
. Beth had even said her husband was the contractor here. Linda smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand gently. Like Sam, he seemed very aware of his strength.

And like Sam, he didn’t feel obligated to hold up his side of a conversation. At a loss, she said, “So you belong to Beth?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I see it as the other way around.”

Linda felt herself turn red. The guy was a Dom.
Duh, Linda.

To her relief, Sam pulled his truck in beside her car and got out.

Her heart lifted higher as each of his long strides brought him closer.

“I didn’t expect you this soon,” he said. She had a moment of worry that he wasn’t happy to see her before he yanked her onto her toes for a kiss. Hard hands, demanding lips.

Her body slid into meltdown.

After tucking her against his side, he gave his dog a quick pat and greeted Nolan. “How’s it going?”

Nolan’s gaze touched her. He looked as if he was almost smiling before he answered Sam, “Ahead of schedule.” He checked his watch and turned to yell at his crew, “Day’s over. Finish up.”

The cheers made the horses in the pasture trot to the far end.

Nolan turned back to tell Sam. “Left your paint in the old barn.” After nodding to Linda, he rejoined his gang.

She shook her head. A woman who’d been abused married to that scary-looking man. Beth was braver than she looked.

Sam curved his hand over her hip. “I’d like a beer, a meal, and sex…not in that order.”

When his grip increased to the point of pain, she gasped, feeling everything shiver and loosen inside. “Well, I—”

His eyes crinkled. “Yeah, we could go straight to sex.”

Her heart acquired the same
rat-tat
rhythm as the nail gun. “I suppose.”

“Suppose?” He yanked her head back, holding her easily so she stared up into his light eyes. “Try again, missy. You might start begging now.”

Beg?
Never. Ever. A nasty buzz like a million bees stung the insides of her head.
“Slut, you want food? Beg for it.”
As coldness shot through her, she struggled against his grip.

Sam released her hair instantly. His other hand lay lightly on her shoulder. Not gripping. Palm open. Warm. “Linda. Settle.” His level, patient eyes caught hers.

As the buzzing in her head decreased and died away, she shuddered.

“Well.” He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Bad reaction. What set you off?”

The lack of emotion in his voice helped dispel the last of her fear and fury and even smoothed away some of her embarrassment at overreacting. “I…don’t like the word.
Beg
.”

His eyebrows, a shade darker than his steel-gray hair, lifted in inquiry. “Why?”

“The Overseer”—the slaver Kim called a scum sucker—“made us beg for everything. To eat. To use the bathroom. To stand up. Sit down. For light.”

Sam growled. “And if you didn’t beg, he’d hurt you. If you did, it would never be enough.”

He knew. Understood. She closed her eyes and nodded.

He gathered her into his arms, rocked her back and forth. “Rough time, girl.”

She melted into him. He didn’t have a smooth tongue, but the comfort he offered was unsurpassed anywhere. His left palm kept her firmly against him; his other hand massaged the muscles on each side of her spine, loosening the knots.

“That’s not a good trigger word to have, though.” He pulled back and cupped her cheek. “I’ll work on getting you past that.”

“I…”
Lovely
. “Do all Doms try to fix things?”

The lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes deepened. “Yep.”

With a huff of exasperation, she walked with him to the house. In pickups and cars, the construction workers were streaming down the drive. The one at the end gave a
honk-honk
, and then quiet settled over the farm.

Conn stopped them for a minute to gather pets, then loped toward the pasture.

Linda glanced at Sam. “What’s he up to?”

“He was on guard while the construction crew was here. Now he’ll make sure no varmints invaded since his morning patrol.”

Linda laughed when the dog turned to look at them, as if to say the house was in their care now.

“So what did you do today?” Linda asked as Sam led the way into the kitchen. She nodded when he pulled out a bottle of wine.

He poured her a glass. “Financial chores—bank, accountant. Had a chat with a couple of people, looked at some new equipment, ordered more grain.” He grabbed a beer for himself and drew her out to the front porch to join him on the swing.

“Busy man.” He had so many balls in the air, it was a wonder he could keep track. And she’d thought running a store was tricky…and thinking of that made her remember basketry. “Oops. I left a basket I wanted to finish out in the car. And my purse.”

He walked to her car with her and carried in the oversize tote of basketry supplies.

After setting her purse near the door, she pulled her cell out. The display showed texts and voice mails from Brenna and Charles. She sucked in a startled breath. So many messages. Had something happened? Why’d she been so stupid as to leave her phone in the car?

“Got a problem?”

She glanced at Sam. “My children called. Lots of calls.” Her hand shook as she hit Brenna’s speed-dial number.

“Mom. Mommy. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Her daughter was crying, almost incoherent. “We didn’t mean it. We shouldn’t—”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Charles had apparently grabbed Brenna’s phone, and he didn’t sound any better.

“What?” What had they done? Burned her house down? “Charles, whatever you did, I forgive you, but what did you do?”

“Jesus, the way we talked to you. What we said. We didn’t realize.” Her big, strong son sounded as if he was in tears.

She looked at Sam, terror rising inside her. “They’re almost hysterical. What—”

Sam plucked the phone from her limp fingers and said into it, “A man makes his apologies in person. Got a piece of paper?” He paused, then gave his address. “A half hour? Good.” He tossed the phone into her open purse before giving her a nod. “They’ll come here. I need a shower.”

Mouth open, she stared after him. Her children had tried to apologize for the way they’d talked to her. Had been crying. And Sam hadn’t been surprised; his dark gray eyebrows hadn’t even lifted. As she sank into a chair, she heard the shower come on. Sam had given orders to Charles, and her obstinate son had taken them.

After a moment of weighing the facts, suspicion wove into knowledge. Sam had
expected
them to call. Could they have called him earlier? No, they didn’t know his last name.