The Prize (16 page)

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Authors: Becca Jameson

BOOK: The Prize
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And facing Swarth’s mother or father wasn’t a pastime I was interested in.

Chapter Eighteen

It was dark when I entered the safe house. I was exhausted. Two officers had led me
to the furnished apartment I would stay in. They’d used the most circuitous route
imaginable to arrive someplace that was only a few miles from the police station.
I had parked in the garage under the apartment building with no plans to leave again
in the near future.

When the officers left, I kicked off my shoes and slumped onto the stiff couch. I
almost chuckled at the irony of my surroundings. Most people in my position would
groan over the meager accommodations, cheap furniture, and lack of freedom.

Not me.

This place was larger than my own apartment, and the furnishings were newer and nicer.
I might grow claustrophobic in a few days from staying inside, but other than that,
this was practically a luxury.

I pulled myself to sitting, took my computer out of my bag, and opened it. I needed
to email my boss and bring him up to date. I’d spoken to him that morning and taken
the day off, but tomorrow I would make up for it with nothing else to do in the world
but bury myself in taxes.

It would keep my mind off things, and there was no better way to entertain me than
with numbers. I’d been a math girl for as long as I could remember. Any activity that
allowed me to arrange numbers and make balance sheets made me giddy. Perhaps there
was a reason for that, but the result was the same.

Dr. Frost’s theory was that math was something I could control. No matter what happened
around me, numbers never lied.

When I was younger and would get agitated from the stress of what happened to me,
my parents would give me their checkbook to balance. It never failed to calm me. I
started doing their taxes when I was about twelve and never looked back. Before I
went to a day of college, I was way ahead of my class.

By the time I had my master’s, I was in love with money and spreadsheets and numbers.

My boss, Richard Heller, loved me. I’d been with Heller & Simon for a year and a half.
They’d hired me on the spot and never regretted it. Any challenge that made other
accountants complain landed on my desk. I wouldn’t sleep until everything matched.

And I was counting on that being the case for the next several days. Richard had been
extremely understanding. I needed to give him a few more details before he started
to wonder about me, but I knew he wouldn’t fire me. Not immediately anyway. Probably
never. I’d have to quit in the long run.

The idea made me wince. I loved my job. The company I worked for was amazing. My boss
was fantastic.

I closed my eyes and took several breaths. I could only work remotely for so many
days. It was tax season. I needed to meet with clients. Over the phone wasn’t going
to cut it. But I could hold off for a while. At least a few weeks.

I knew I could get a job anywhere in the country. That wasn’t the problem. I just
hated the thought that I would need to. And it wasn’t about money. It was about my
own personal sanity.

Tomorrow, I would get to work and bury myself in taxes. It would keep my mind off
things and keep me occupied.

My phone rang, and I glanced at it but didn’t answer it.

Thirty seconds later it pinged with a text from Parker to follow his call.

Please just let me know you’re safe
.

I picked it up with shaky fingers and stared at his words for a while.

He cared. I knew he cared. That was never the issue.

If I lived in a normal world like a normal human being, I could see myself with him
for the long haul. But I didn’t. And I never would. Not even if Michael Swarth was
captured. My world was tainted by the events of fifteen years ago in ways that were
out of my control.

Dr. Frost might argue this point, but I knew myself better than anyone else. There
were some hurdles I would never be able to leap.

I finally sent back a quick text.

I’m fine
.

He didn’t follow up, though I’m sure it pained him.

I wasn’t stupid. I was hurting him. He didn’t have all the facts. But the more details
I gave him about my fears, the more he would argue with me. And I didn’t want to fight.
I wanted to be left alone. I knew what I could handle and what I could not.

A life with Parker Darwin wasn’t in the cards.

I stood on leaden feet and lugged my bag into the single bedroom. I put my Glock inside
the nightstand first and then headed for the bathroom.

It was small but clean. I didn’t need more.

After going through the basic nightly routine of makeup removal and teeth brushing,
I changed into a T-shirt, climbed between the starched cheap sheets, and rolled onto
my side. Curled into a ball, I tried to keep memories of last night and the night
before at bay.

It was a losing battle. When I closed my eyes, all I saw was Parker’s intense expression
as he dominated me so thoroughly. Every inch of my skin came to life at the memories.
They would have to last a lifetime.

I would never let another man under my skin like I had Parker. For one thing, I would
never feel safe doing so. For another thing, no man would ever compare. One thing
I could attribute without a doubt to him—he had ruined me for all other men, Dom or
otherwise.

It wasn’t easy to sleep alone after two nights in the bed of a man I knew would protect
me at all costs. Every noise in the building made me jumpy. I was on the fifth floor,
but I could hear the traffic below and the creak of pipes in the walls and televisions
in distant rooms.

For hours I tossed and turned before I finally succumbed to exhaustion.

****

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find the sun streaming into the bedroom.
I hadn’t shut the blinds. A glance at my watch told me it was seven thirty.

It was also cold in the apartment. I should have adjusted the thermostat before I
went to bed. In any case, I was forced to climb out from between the covers and walk
across the freezing floor to reach the bathroom.

I needed socks or slippers. Unlike the luxurious home I’d stayed at the previous two
nights, there were no heated floors.

After using the toilet and washing my face, I grabbed a sweatshirt, leggings, and
socks and headed for the kitchen feeling much warmer.

Please, God, let there be coffee
.

The stars were aligned. I found exactly what I needed next to the coffee pot, filled
the glass container with water, and moments later breathed in the scent of coffee
as it brewed.

By the time I had at least one eye open, I had taken a brief call from my mom and
set up my computer on the small kitchen table to start working.

I called Mr. Heller at eight, knowing he would be the first of the partners in the
office.

“Meagan. I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m in Charlotte, but I have a desk and internet, so I’m all yours
for the time being.”

“Have they caught the guy who robbed your apartment?”

“Not yet. I’m hoping for a miracle.”

“And the police are worried enough that you need to hide?”

“Yes. It’s a long story, but I’m stuck. I’ll be honest with you, there’s a possibility
they won’t catch him quickly. If that’s the case, I’ll have to resign.”

“You’ll do no such thing. You’re a valued employee. This is out of your control. We
would never let you go over something like this. You do what you can remotely for
now, and we’ll figure something out.”

“I appreciate it, sir. I mean that. But I would never expect you to extend this courtesy
forever. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Meagan. Just stay safe.”

I had to swallow back emotion at his emphatic desire to keep me on the payroll. I
knew it was a stretch. It wasn’t as though I’d been with the company for fifty years.
I was a relatively new employee. He valued me. And that meant the world.

At ten o’clock, I hung up with a client as my phone pinged with a message from Parker.

Please call me
.

I stared at the cell in my hand for several moments. If I called him, I knew I would
be weak. I needed to stay strong.

Parker was the entire package. He was sweet and kind. Wealthy. Generous. Sexy. Built.
Intelligent. The best lover I’d ever had. And he was dominant. Which suddenly wasn’t
a bad thing. I craved it now that I’d had a taste, and I was jonesing for more.

I shifted in my hard wooden chair to take the pressure off my pussy as it clenched.
Even spreading my legs did not alleviate the need to be touched.

As I tipped my head back, I closed my eyes and moaned. Setting the phone down on the
table, I gripped the edge and fought the urge to touch myself and imitate the stroke
of his fingers against my flesh.

Damn the leggings I’d chosen. The crotch was too tight against my pussy, and my panties
were soaked from one simple text.

He’d said
please
. But I could hear the command in his tone nevertheless.
Call me
.

With one leg bouncing, I took a deep breath and sent him a reply.

Working. Later
.

Seconds later, another text.

Now. I need to hear your voice
.

I had to give him one thing—at least he let me make the call. I dialed his number,
only because he would hound me until I did.

“Meagan.” He sounded relieved.

“I’m fine.”

“Where are you?”

“Safe.”

He groaned. “Please, hon. Why are you doing this? We’re so good together. Don’t cut
me out. Whatever you’re afraid of, we’ll fix it.”

“Who says I’m scared?” His words hit too close to home.

“I’m astute. Maybe the submission frightens you. Maybe it’s that we live in two different
cities. I don’t know because you won’t tell me.”

“Maybe I’m just not that into you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. It’s not that.”

“Cocky much?” I grinned, my body coming alive at our banter. Even without him in the
room with me, I was hot and bothered.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “What are you wearing?”

I glanced down and laughed. “You want me to lie?”

“No. Because if you’re sitting there in some sort of negligee, I’ll be forced to wonder
who you’re wearing it for, because it sure isn’t me.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m wearing a large T-shirt—the one I slept in—leggings,
and a sweatshirt. Oh, and standard white socks.” I giggled again. I couldn’t stay
serious with him.

“Sexy.”

“Yeah. Only the best when I’m alone working from home all day.”

“And where would that be? And why couldn’t you have worked from my house?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’ve been through this. I can’t tell you where I am. And if I
stayed one more hour in your apartment, I would have lost the self-control to move
on.”

“First of all, I’m still wondering why that’s a bad thing. And second of all, why
can’t you tell me where you are? Are you still in Charlotte?”

I hesitated before answering. “Yes.”

“You’re an amazing submissive. If you hate it, it doesn’t show while you’re in the
role. If it scares you, we can work through it. If the emotional overload freaked
you out, I’ll help you with that too. If you can’t incorporate BDSM into your life
permanently, I’ll change.”

I froze. He’d change?

“Parker…”

“I mean it. Do I love dominating you? Hell, yes. But the reason it’s so sexy is because
you get off on it so much. It wouldn’t be any fun if you didn’t like it. Is it a deal
breaker? No. I’ll put away my toys and do vanilla with you for a lifetime if it’s
what you want.”

I knew that wasn’t possible. “Parker, you’re inherently dominant. You could no more
stop practicing D/s than you could stop breathing.”

“Try me.”

My heart raced. I meant that much to him. And it made it that much harder. “Don’t
call me, Parker. Let me go.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“I need you to stop contacting me. I’m too weak when it comes to you.”

“I know you have a lot going on, and it kills me that you won’t share it with me and
let me carry part of the burden, but don’t cut me off from hearing your voice. Please.
I promise not to beg you to come back anymore if you promise to speak to me at least
once a day.”

I was a sucker. A total blubbering idiot when it came to him. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Stop asking so many questions. I could use a friend. But it’s not worth it if you
spend the entire time hounding me.”

“Speaking of friends…”

“Haven’t spoken to them. Not going to tell them.”

“Okay. How long can you get away with that?”

“A long time. We’re adults. We’re busy. It’s not like we speak daily. Hell, Amy lives
in Nashville and has a busy life. And Cheyenne is new to BDSM and consumed with Riley’s
demands.”

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