He was still within earshot when Val commented, “He fell for her fast.”
“Baby, you know as well as I do, here at Decadence, things tend to happen that way.”
Chapter 15
Shots rang out, two of them. The first embedded in the wall behind them. The second with a soft thud and an exclamation of pain.
In front of her, protecting her body with his own, Andrew lurched forward and sank to the floor. On her knees beside him, when she turned him to his back and onto her lap, she saw blood gushing up through his fingers at his throat. His blue eyes met hers, dazed with shock and pain.
Her screams for help mingled with her cries to him. “No, baby, please. Stay with me. Don’t go.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Help is on its way. Hang on a little longer. Please, Master, for me,” she whispered as she pressed her hands to the burbling hole in his flesh, but the blood—so much of it—welled between her fingers. His hand encircled her wrist, and he squeezed, though with fading strength, and only for a moment. Then, it went slack and slipped to his chest.
“Andrew!” she wailed as the light went out of his eyes. But as they stared vacantly back at her, they weren’t the light blue they always were, but a deep familiar green.
Again, she screamed her anguish, but oddly, they were mixed with the startled high-pitched yowl of a cat. Esme shot up in bed, shaking from the skewed yet vivid memory, her pajamas wringing wet with sweat.
The dreams had been frequent, almost nightly the first year. Prescription drugs had helped decrease them thereafter, but they’d never entirely stopped. Now, stressful events triggered them, like Latrice’s revelations about Finn, and the vision that followed.
But today, they had changed. Before, they’d always been an exact replay of the shooting with her waking just as Andrew faded away. It hadn’t ever altered or included anyone else.
Esme stumbled weakly to the bathroom. She stripped and stepped into the shower, turning the water on full blast, not waiting for it to warm, and not caring if it was ice cold. Turning her back to the wall, she wrapped her arms around her trembling body as she slid down the tile to the floor. As the water went from frigid to lukewarm, to steamy, the spray heated her skin and the shaking finally stopped.
A horrible thought occurred to her then.
What if it hadn’t been a dream, but a premonition?
She didn’t go back to sleep, too afraid to. With the rest of the weekend yawning in front of her, she decided to go to work. It was a Sunday, no one would be there, and she could catch up on what had piled up while she’d been distracted all week with Finn.
“There’ll be no more of that,” she told herself firmly, as she headed upstairs to get dressed.
By the time she dragged into the office, it felt like late afternoon, but it was only eight-thirty, which is what happens when you stayed up all night. She eyed the instant coffee she kept on hand for Pax but couldn’t bring herself to drink it. Instead, she consumed her usual twenty-ounce diet Dew at home, but still feeling sluggish, turned into a drive-thru on the way in for another thirty-two-ounce vat to go. Needless to say, by the time she unlocked her door and set down her keys and purse, she was wired. She also had to pee, really bad.
In the ladies’ room, once she’d attended to urgent matters, she stood in front of the mirror trying to do something with the atrocious bun she’d configured—messy didn’t begin to describe it. While she could smooth it into something half decent, there was no help for the circles under her eyes. If any of her colleagues had seen her looking like death warmed over, they would have held up a cross to ward off her bad energy. Okay, that would have been Jasmine, but the others would have kept their distance and urged her to go home and rest, and since she worked with a bunch of germophobes, adding to stay home until she was better.
But resting might lead to sleeping, which meant dreaming. Fuck no. She might never sleep again.
At her desk, she took a sip of bottled water, then dug through her purse for Val’s card. She dialed the number hoping to get her machine, leave a brief message about her need to cancel, then work non-stop as she compartmentalized like she always did.
Damn her luck, instead of an automated message, Val answered on the first ring.
“Valerie Thornton.”
Her eyes shot to the clock. Eight-fifty a.m. What were the odds she had a private practice, a new husband who kept late hours, and she’d be available early on a Sunday morning to answer her own calls?
“Um, Val, it’s—”
“Esme, thank God. Are you all right? We’ve all been worried sick.”
“Why?”
“The way you ran out last night. You had a flashback, didn’t you?”
“How—?”
“I’ve seen it before and, honey, Eric and Keiran… Well, they own a security firm, both are licensed investigators, did you think they wouldn’t dig?”
“It isn’t any of their business.”
“One runs the club where you’re a member and you’re involved with the other, they think it is.”
“Not anymore.”
There was silence on the other end for a count of five. “Not any more to which one?”
“Both. I won’t be back. I can’t.”
“Don’t make decisions now, while you’re upset. What if we meet for lunch? We’ll talk.”
“I’m sorry, Val. Being at the club and with Finn brings up too much—I can’t.”
“I understand, Esme. It’s scary starting over. I had to do it myself after my husband died, but I didn’t have the added trauma of him dying tragically in my arms.”
She closed her eyes. “Finn knows about that, too?”
“Like I said, they’re PIs, and very good at their jobs.”
“Isn’t that my freaking great luck?” she grumbled under her breath. “Listen, Val, I appreciate your concern, but I need to go.”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ve survived five years with these memories, I’ve learned to cope.”
“Honey, survive you may have done, but trust me, you aren’t coping. Promise to call me if you need to talk. Any time.”
“I will, Val. Thanks.”
“A word of caution. Don’t be surprised if a worried, very pissed off, extremely good-looking Irishman with a panty melting accent—sorry, but you know it’s true—arrives at your door first thing.”
“I came into the office to catch up on work.”
“Then expect him at your office door second thing. These guys are good at finding people.”
“I’ve got the alarm system on.”
She chuckled, and Esme could picture her shaking her head. “I don’t think an alarm exists that a Rossi man can’t bypass.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“You’ve met Keiran Finnegan, haven’t you?” she deadpanned. “Good luck, Esme and don’t forget I’m here if you need me.”
She stared down at the screen as the call ended and her phone switched back to her home screen, a close-up picture of Phineas. What she wouldn’t give for a kitty cuddle, or better, a Finn hug.
“That was Val giving you a heads-up I was on my way, I take it?”
Closing her eyes, she willed her heart, which had jumped into her throat, back into her chest. It didn’t go, nor did it slow, before she looked up. Finn leaned in her doorway, watching her.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t. I pinged your phone.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Do I even want to ask how?”
“It’s probably best if you didn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have come, Keiran. I’m swamped and can’t talk right now.”
Something flashed in his eyes at her use of his first name, probably because she’d never used it before. But he didn’t comment, his gaze shifting to her desk, empty, the way she’d left it Friday at five o’clock when she’d emptied her inbox. Caught in a fib, she felt the heat of embarrassment
slowly rise in her cheeks.
One dark brow arched. “What did I say about honesty, Esme?”
“I know you know about Andrew. Val told me. But it’s not something I discuss with anyone—ever.”
“Which is part of your problem, lass. You can’t keep such an awful thing bottled up inside you, but I’m sure Val told you that.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “You didn’t close your eyes last night, did you?”
“You’re wrong. Closing my eyes was the problem.”
“Bad dreams?”
She nodded.
“I can only imagine. What triggered them for you?”
“The club, it’s too much. I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I didn’t mean to lead you to believe I could.”
“Bullshit.” Like a whip cracking, his expletive reverberated in the room. “You’ve been coming to the club for thirteen weeks without having a panic attack and running into the street. I stripped you naked and spanked your ass raw and you didn’t freak out. And when I blindfolded you, chained you and made you come in the middle of the dungeon, you were begging me to fuck you, not panicking.”
Her jaw dropped, then snapped shut. “I think you should leave, I have work to do.”
“Not until we settle something first.”
“You’ll get me fired.”
“If that happens, you can come work for me. I need someone to handle a two-foot-high stack of contracts, but we can discuss that later.” He walked forward, circumvented her desk, and moved into her space.
She rolled back in her desk chair, but he followed.
“I need my job, and you’ve got a lot of nerve being so nonchalant with it.”
“You’re right, I couldn’t care less about your job.” He bent over, gripped the armrests, stopping any further retreat. “I’m only interested in you, lass. What you went through was horrific, unthinkable, but it’s in your past. You’re not yet thirty, you can’t let it stifle the rest of your life.”
“I can,” she whispered. “It’s safer.”
He caught her chin, and though she resisted, gently but firmly tipped her face to his.
“What are you afraid of, Esme? Me?”
She didn’t hesitate in her reply. “Yes.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Maybe not intentionally,” she whispered.
“Ever, darlin’, I have more control than that.”
Something snapped inside her and she leapt out of her chair. Taking him by surprise he rose with her. She leaned toward him, her voice ravaged with emotion when she refuted his claim. “No, you don’t! Andrew thought he had control, but a bullet from a piece of human shit ended him.” She clapped her hands together, as she shouted, “Just like that! I loved him, and he left me. And you,” in an explosion of livid energy, she pushed hard against his chest with both hands, “are just like him!”
Her shove rocked him back on his heels, but otherwise, he went no further. As for Esme, she was far from done.
“Andrew fucked with the mob. And now, here you are fucking with drug gangs set on vengeance!” She shoved him again. “Are you insane? It’s right in their fucking name, Keiran Finnegan.”
Her hands fisted and fell to her sides, and she backed up a step, shaking her head vehemently. “I won’t have it. Not again. I won’t fall in love with another hero set on saving the world from the dregs of humanity only to have him leave me trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart without him.” Esme’s voice cracked, and her shoulders slumped as the utter physical and emotional exhaustion of not only the last twenty-four-hours but the past five years, leaked from deep in her bones. “The last time broke me. To go through it again will kill me. I can’t survive it again, I’m not strong enough.”
Out of breath, and energy, she trembled, her knees rubbery. Rational thought returned, and she realized all she had just shared. She hadn’t even told Pax some of those things. Venting was freeing as well as frightening, and like when he spanked her to an emotional release that first night, a strident cry erupted from her throat and a torrent of tears followed.
As he’d done then, he picked her up, set her in his lap and held her.
When it went on, endlessly it seemed, he didn’t try to stop it, just kept his arms clamped tightly around her, his lips on her hair, and with the benefit of the swivel office chair, rocked her gently murmuring soft words of reassurance. And he didn’t let go when her sobs had slowed to hitching, hiccupping breaths.
“How do you do it?” she asked brokenly, between sniffles when she could speak again.
He shifted, taking her with him, as he reached for a box of tissues she kept on a shelf next to her desk. Once he’d grabbed a handful and settled back, he asked, “Do what, sweet lass?”
“Get me to admit things I haven’t told another living soul.”
While he leaned her back in the crook of one arm, and dabbed beneath her eyes and wiped her cheeks, he tucked several tissues into her hand and ordered, “Blow.”
She did as he told her, indelicately, because after that deluge there was no pretty way to do it. When she was through, and looked up at him, she was still sniffling.
His expression contained no judgement, and none of the anger of before, she read only concern, and affection. “Better?” he asked, a little smile curving his lips.
She nodded.
“Good.” Then, he answered her question. “I haven’t done anything except give you what you need, Esme. Whether by turning you over my knee, offering you a shoulder to cry on or by confronting you with the truth.”
“Others could have done that. A few have tried.” She huffed a short, humorless laugh. “Except the spanking part, but the rest, and I didn’t have an emotional breakdown and bare my soul to them.”
“Perhaps because you refused to let them in.” One big hand framed the side of her face, his thumb stroking a still damp cheek, his touch tender, but purposeful in that she couldn’t turn away from his next words. “I’m different, though, aren’t I, lass? It’s been that way since the night Carlos was such an ass. You trusted me then, moving in close, seeking my protection, and you didn’t even know my name.”
“You had a badge,” she muttered, a pitiful attempt at an excuse.
“Mmm…” he murmured, skeptically. “Tears are a good outlet for you, and wiser for a submissive than tearing into her Dom and getting physical.”
“I shouldn’t have done either, especially shoving you. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He snorted softly as if offended. “Do I look like I can’t take it?”
“No, and you barely budged.”
“It’s good you don’t make a habit of it, or you’d have to retire your sub card and start carrying a quirt, like Latrice.”
“I’m sorry I lost it on you.” She sniffled again, and then, as shame washed over her, closed her eyes. “I learned pushing you around, or trying to, is very unsatisfactory, and not only because you’re as movable as a concrete wall. I don’t know how she does it.”
“Darlin’, look at me.”
She obeyed, without reservation, and seeing affection in his gaze, not the hard edge of anger, and disappointment like when he’d first arrived made that warm, melty feeling stir inside her again. That’s when she knew her plan to become the crazy, sexless, single, cat lady of Northridge was on shaky ground.
“You are no Latrice. She’s wired differently, more like me. It goes against your grain to dominate, even in anger, which is why you felt dissatisfied, and remorseful afterward. We’ll take care of absolving you of your guilt with a good paddling later, and since I’ll enjoy it too—because that’s the way I’m wired—you’ll be making it up to me at the same time.”
She sat up and stared at him. “Did you not hear me when I said I was through? I’m serious, Keiran, that goes for men, Doms, and especially dominant male detectives.”
“I heard but don’t accept it. I will help you work through this, and you can address the PTSD with whoever Val refers yo
u to. Most of all, we’ll conquer this habit you have of pulling away from those who care about you and avoiding getting close to others because you’re afraid to lose them like you did Andrew. You say we’re alike, so I know he would have wanted that for you, and I’m not going to allow it, because, baby, that’s no way to live.”
“Get out of my head.”
He chuckled softly, dipping close to brush a kiss across her parted lips. “Not gonna happen, mo chuisle.”
“What does that mean?”
“My pulse.”
More of her shields melted. His accent got to her every time he opened his mouth, and he used it to his advantage, calling up the heavy artillery by using sexy Gaelic endearments to weaken her defenses and win this little skirmish. Not that he wasn’t well on his way to victory before he called her his pulse.
“You’re tenacious,” she muttered. “Do you know that, sir?”
“Patient,” he replied, his green gaze unfaltering.
“Excuse me?”
“At the club, they say I’m patient as a saint. I wouldn’t go that far because last night I would have blistered your butt good if I could have gotten my hands on it. Today, I’m putting the plan I came up with into action.”
“Could you elaborate a little, since that plan includes me?”
“Operation live for the day begins today.” He caught her chin in his palm, when he added, “And you, sweet lass, are going to learn how to do it.”
“I don’t think I’m capable.”
“You will be because I’m going to teach you how.”
“Are you going to wear bulletproof armor 24/7? Because that’s what it’ll take.”
He grunted. “I don’t recall you being this sassy after your last deluge of tears, probably because I didn’t warm your ass first. But as I said, we’ll take care of that later.”
“Finn!”
He grinned. “I like when you call me that.”
“It slipped,” she said stubbornly. “I meant Keiran.”
His low throaty laugh chipped further away at her defenses. “Nope, I’m Finn to you, have been since the beginning, whether writhing in chains beneath my flogger, snuggled up against me during aftercare, or while I’m fucking you, and since I’ve heard you scream it more than once while you’re coming, and I really like it then, we’re sticking with it.”
Dare to Love Again Page 19