This is Who I Am
Page 34
“Oh, you’d remember. She’s as scary a sadist as Sam.” Jessica gave a fake shiver and then grinned at Beth’s chiding look. “Oh, please. The man’s terrifying. I’m sure Linda’s noticed.”
Oh, had she. She still carried some bruises. Linda widened her eyes in confusion. “But Sam is just a sweetie. How could you say that?” And actually, the past couple of days had been wonderful. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone there. Just to watch television or talk with while having a glass of wine. Someone to cuddle against in bed.
Jessica shook her head in admiration. “You’re so full of it.” Turning sideways, she stole a french fry from Andrea.
“Why didn’t you just order some?” Andrea asked.
“Didn’t want to gain weight before my wedding. And everybody knows stolen food has no calories.”
“Good point.” Laughing, Andrea pushed her plate into the center of the table to share. “So, Linda, does Master Sam scare you?”
“Ah. Sometimes.” Linda eyed the plate. No calories? After taking a fry, she tried to explain further. “It’s a good scary when we’re playing. I know he’ll push, and that’s a bit frightening, but”—she pressed her hand over the quiver low in her belly—“exciting too.”
The smiles of understanding she got made her relax. They really did get it.
“Good word, ‘exciting,’” Jessica agreed.
“But when he’s mad?” Linda continued. “He gets this cold…dangerous…look. Sure, I know he’d never hurt me—not in anger—but my body isn’t hearing logic.”
“Oh, God, that’s how I feel when Nolan’s angry,” Beth said. “And I want to hide under the bed, only he sees that and really gets mad, because he hates it when he scares me, even though my reaction’s just instinct.”
“Exactly.” Linda tilted her head. “Were you one of the kidnapped women?”
“No. I had an abusive husband,” Beth said.
Jessica glanced at Linda. “He was a real psycho sadist. Makes you appreciate how careful and controlled ours are.”
“Ours?”
“The Doms in the Shadowlands.” Jessica leaned back with a sigh. “I’m so full I’ll probably fall asleep at my computer.”
“Yeah, exciting life, playing with numbers.” Andrea grinned. “I’ve got a couple more places to clean this afternoon, so I’d better get moving.”
“I have fruit trees to plant.” Beth looked at Linda. “This weekend…it’ll be really, really fun.”
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?
Chapter Sixteen
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.
Oh, had she. She still carried some bruises. Linda widened her eyes in confusion. “But Sam is just a sweetie. How could you say that?” And actually, the past couple of days had been wonderful. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone there. Just to watch television or talk with while having a glass of wine. Someone to cuddle against in bed.
Jessica shook her head in admiration. “You’re so full of it.” Turning sideways, she stole a french fry from Andrea.
“Why didn’t you just order some?” Andrea asked.
“Didn’t want to gain weight before my wedding. And everybody knows stolen food has no calories.”
“Good point.” Laughing, Andrea pushed her plate into the center of the table to share. “So, Linda, does Master Sam scare you?”
“Ah. Sometimes.” Linda eyed the plate. No calories? After taking a fry, she tried to explain further. “It’s a good scary when we’re playing. I know he’ll push, and that’s a bit frightening, but”—she pressed her hand over the quiver low in her belly—“exciting too.”
The smiles of understanding she got made her relax. They really did get it.
“Good word, ‘exciting,’” Jessica agreed.
“But when he’s mad?” Linda continued. “He gets this cold…dangerous…look. Sure, I know he’d never hurt me—not in anger—but my body isn’t hearing logic.”
“Oh, God, that’s how I feel when Nolan’s angry,” Beth said. “And I want to hide under the bed, only he sees that and really gets mad, because he hates it when he scares me, even though my reaction’s just instinct.”
“Exactly.” Linda tilted her head. “Were you one of the kidnapped women?”
“No. I had an abusive husband,” Beth said.
Jessica glanced at Linda. “He was a real psycho sadist. Makes you appreciate how careful and controlled ours are.”
“Ours?”
“The Doms in the Shadowlands.” Jessica leaned back with a sigh. “I’m so full I’ll probably fall asleep at my computer.”
“Yeah, exciting life, playing with numbers.” Andrea grinned. “I’ve got a couple more places to clean this afternoon, so I’d better get moving.”
“I have fruit trees to plant.” Beth looked at Linda. “This weekend…it’ll be really, really fun.”
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?
Chapter Sixteen
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.
