“Baby, you didn’t know.”
“No, but I suspected he was up to something. I should have said something sooner and reported those account numbers I found.”
“You did, Esme, to me. I had one of the guys looking into it, not because of any link I suspected to Carlos, but because your boss sounded like an asshole and I wanted to make sure you were safe. The money trail always trips them up. In the weeks since the Lopez’s arrest, Carlos was lying low while Gerald funneled his dirty money into offshore accounts. Those weren’t payments on accounts you found, Esme, but deposits, in banks he could easily access when he fled to South America.”
“Gerald mentioned Buenos Aires.”
“Yeah, we found his passport. He planned to go too. If you hadn’t given me those leads when you did, mo chuisle, we’d have had a much harder time piecing it all together. You helped us close in on him and end it tonight.”
“So, it’s over?”
“Yes, lass. But now I have a question for you.”
She looked at him, waiting.
“When I left you were sedated, hysterical after Gerald. You’re calmer now, but visibly shaking. This day has been traumatic, and this conversation can’t have been easy. I’ve asked you no less than four times to come to me. Why are you so far away rather than here in my arms?”
At last, she took a step forward, then another, stopping out of reach. Hesitant, and not sure why.
“I thought we decided I was going to live to ninety-seven, a stór.”
She nodded, his image getting watery with tears. “Gerald wasn’t all bad,” she blurted out. “I mean, he was a bad husband, and couldn’t keep it in his pants, and he got mixed up with Carlos, but in the end, he stood up to Carlos, though scared out of his mind, and tried to protect me. What he did helped me get away. He saved my life.”
“I suppose that’s part of your curse too, isn’t it, little subbie? Living to see another day?”
Finn’s head swiveled, and he frowned at Thomas. “What about a curse?”
“Have her explain it to you, Finnegan, after you beat her ass for being stubborn, then fuck her until she can’t breathe to prove how lucky she is.”
He crossed his arms and glared at his man. “I’ll do that anyway, so I’d rather hear it from you now.”
“Doctor patient confidentiality, my man. You’ll have to get it from her.” With bag in hand, Thomas started for the door, but he stopped in front of Esme, wagged a finger her way, and directed, “Counseling for that PTSD and negative thinking, missy. And don’t think I won’t be checking up with your Dom to see that you’ve followed doctor’s orders.”
“So much for confidentiality,” Val muttered under her breath, which drew a sharp look from Thomas.
“A doctor in a lifestyle community has priorities that trump convention sometimes, for the good of the subbie, little subbie.” He looked at Finn. “My prognosis for her is excellent. You’re a lucky man.”
Eric and Pax smiled after him, while Val looked ready to scratch her head. Finn’s reaction was to crook a finger at her and growl, “Esme. Here. Now.”
“He isn’t wrong,” she told him, as she moved slowly closer. “I have flashbacks, and horrible dreams, and most of the time I think in shades of doom and gloom. But recently a handsome, smooth-tongued Dom with a sexy accent, a seriously hard palm and a penchant for ropes and a whip, but also for spontaneous lunches, hand holding and kisses, and even a fussy cat who bears his name, has breathed life into me again. And now, the doom and gloom is mingled with laughter and hope and great orgasms. I mean toe-curling, seriously, fucking great.”
Behind her, Val giggled as Pax and Eric laughed out-right, but she didn’t let that distract her.
“You’re right, Finn. It’s going to take more than a spanking and a few scenes to get me unstuck. I’ll have bad days, like today, when Master Thomas might need to chew me out to make me think straight, or you’ll have to take me over your knee for another catharsis. But you have to cut me some slack, a man got shot in cold blood in front of me, again.” Close enough to touch now, she tipped her head back and gazed up at him, handsome as ever, though looking tired, after a busy, stress filled day.
“Thomas chewed you out?” he asked, not looking pleased.
“Yeah, but don’t be ticked at him, or for being evasive. I needed his straight talk.” She leaned into him. “There are no guarantees; you and the doctor both told me that. I’ve known it all along but was too afraid to take a chance.” She reached out and put her hand flat on his chest. “I’m tired of living my life wrapped in a cocoon of cotton wool of my own making, doing just about anything to keep fate from swooping in and biting me on the butt again.”
His arms curled around her shoulders and he pulled her up on her toes, until they were nose to nose. “What are you saying, Esme?”
“I’m ready to live for the day, Finn, and I want to do it with you.”
He released her, but only long enough to wrap his long arms around her in an embrace so tight it squeezed the air from her lungs. It made her, “Ouch!” come out with a wheezing croak when something hard poked her breast.
Finn heard and relaxed his hold a bit. “Did I hurt you, lass?”
“Yes.” She rubbed at the tender spot while her other hand ran over his chest, which was usually hard and muscular, but not like this. “What is that?”
“Kevlar.” He raised his shirt exposing a blue and black vest. “Living for the day doesn’t mean we thumb our nose at fate and risk our tomorrows. Every man at Rossi wants to enjoy a long life so we take precautions, so we can go to sleep healthy and in one piece and wake up in the morning and do it all over again.”
Esme grunted. “Do today all over again? I’ll pass, thank you very much.”
Squeezing her again, though not as fiercely, with his lips against her temple he declared, “I’m not going to let this happen to you again. You’re on our radar now, and we’re very good at what we do.”
“Master Thomas said that too.”
“I’ll clue you in, Esme.” She looked over at Val, leaning into her man, arms wrapped around his waist as she spoke to her earnestly. “Annoying as it is to admit, the lot of them are rarely wrong. Whether a Master Dom or a head-shrinking doctor Dom with a very unconventional bedside manner.”
“Annoying?” Eric repeated. He ran his hand along her back until he reached her bottom, then gave it a squeeze, which prompted a little yelp from his subbie wife.
“Maddening is more like it,” she amended with a smile in her eyes, if not on her lips.
“Lucky for you, we closed the case, put the bad guys away and I am in a very forgiving mood or I’d prove how maddening I can be.”
Her smile encompassed her entire face when she stood on tiptoe and asked, “Can you do it anyway, Master? Since you’re in such a forgiving mood?”
He chuckled, lifted her with the hand at her bottom and bent to take her mouth in what looked to be from Esme’s vantage point a smoldering, off-the-charts kiss. Uncaring that she wore a skirt, Val’s legs came up and encircled his hips, while her arms snaked around his neck. Without another word to anyone, speech impossible evidently when your tongue was down your spouse’s throat, Eric carried her out of the room.
“That’s my cue to leave as well, sweetheart.”
“I’m glad you’re home, Pax.”
“Finnegan, I take this to mean I’m off duty?”
“Yes, your efforts these past five years are not unappreciated. Thank you.”
“Take care of my girl,” he replied, his eyes shifting from Finn to her. “She’s grown on me, rather like moss on a tree. You can try scraping it off, but it comes back more tenacious than before, and after a while you don’t know what you’d do if it wasn’t there.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You can see me standing here, right?”
“You know I love you, sweetheart. Always”
“I love you, too, Pax. Call me next week for lunch?”
His eyes sh
ifted to Finn.
“Lunch is good. She can take you to a great taco place downtown.”
Esme glanced up at him, grinning over his Guerrilla Tacos obsession and that he seemed to understand how important her friend was to her and that he posed no threat. “And you could join us.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Pax affirmed, then exited.
Taking her hand, Finn moved to the couch, sat, and pulled her down to straddle his lap. His hands slid around to her back, one going high into her hair, and fisting as he drew her against him. “Maybe by next week I’ll have figured out how to get you covered in blood like in a Stephen King horror flick out of my head.”
She buried her face in his neck. “Carrie. I hate that movie. She was drenched.”
“As were you, baby.”
A violent shudder passed through her, glad she hadn’t seen it. “All that blood messes with your head.”
“Yeah, but we’re moving forward to work on those images and flashbacks, dealing with them rather than burying everything inside, and running from those who care and can help.”
It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go home, darlin’. I’m wiped.”
“Even though I slept most of the day, I am too.” She didn’t move, except to wiggle and settle against him more fully.
“You’ve had a rough one, Esme, it’s understandable.”
“Whose home did you mean? Your apartment is just across the street.”
“Your house. You live in a great neighborhood, I like your big bed, and the view from your back patio is fantastic. I’m looking forward to having breakfast with you there in the morning. And, your furry faced feline would probably like it if you came home tonight.”
She groaned, knowing Phin would not be happy when they got there.
“Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize him. His dinner is late. It’s not that he doesn’t have anything to eat. I leave a bowl of dry food out for him to snack on, but his wet food is hours past due. My furry faced feline has zero patience and does not like to be kept waiting, you’ll see.”
“Seems like a perfectly reasonable reaction to me. I’m not happy when I don’t get what I want.”
Her head popped up, and she sat looking down at him. “When does that happen? It seems to me, since I’ve known you, you’ve gotten everything you wanted.”
“Not everything. You’ve made me wait for it more than any woman. But no more, right?”
“Right,” she replied. “Thank you for being patient, Finn.”
“That’s me, the patron saint of patience. But I’ll clue you in on something, lass, I’m more stubborn than anything, and when I see something I want, I don’t veer from the course until I get it.” He gazed at her, green eyes dark with emotion when he asked, “Can you guess what that is?”
“Me,” she stated with certainty.
“Damn straight.” Kissing her hard and quick, he lifted her from his lap, then with her hand in his, led her out of the office. “When we get to your house, we’re not leaving for a month, at least. I’ll have food delivered, and anything else we need.”
“But what about work? I mean, I don’t have a job anymore, and if I did, no way would I darken Reinhart and Shoemaker’s doors again, but aren’t you covered up at Rossi?”
“Yes, but there are eight other owners, each fully capable of stepping in.” At the front entrance he stopped and yanked her flush against his long, hard body, not caring who might see. “We’re taking a sabbatical. Everyone else did when the submissive they claimed went through their trauma. And I mean each and every one of them, Cap, Rick, Dex, Jonas, Sean—two times over for him, at least—Lil T, and Eric. Even the general after he got shot and Joanna threatened to leave him. It’s my time.”
“Uh, Finn, other than Eric, I have no idea who any of those people are.”
“You will, darlin’. And wait until you hear their stories. Some are worse than yours.”
“Impossible.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His hand curled beneath her chin and he tipped her mouth up for another steamy kiss. Afterward, he whispered against her lips, “I think I’ll forbid them from telling you. Drama and angst isn’t my idea of living life to its fullest. A month in bed with you? Now we’re talking.”
She smiled at his persistently positive attitude, then laughed, on a day when she didn’t think anything could be funny.
Finn winked at her and with a smile gracing his gorgeous face, took her hand and led her outside to his Jag parked in front. She noticed her car was gone. Impounded probably, but they could keep it. Bullet riddled, and blood covered, she wanted no part of it.
This time when he tucked her in his fine ride, put the top down, and steered them north of the city, she didn’t fall asleep, clinging tight to the hand holding hers on his thigh, savoring every minute with Finn as she planned to from this moment on.
Epilogue
“Do you think we’ll ever get to test out the Sultan’s Chamber?” Esme asked. “Not that this room isn’t a fantasy come true.”
“How about concentrating on where we are instead of where we aren’t?”
Leave it to Finn, her persistently positive Master to look at it from a glass is half full perspective.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, then after a moment simply had to add her glass is half empty two cents. “It’s just that it’s been four months. You’d think in that time a Dom with part ownership in this place could reserve the room of his choice.”
“Esme?” he asked quietly as he approached, looking devilishly handsome in a black Stetson, faded jeans, cowboy boots, and nothing else. This left his amazing chest bare, with loads of bunching, rippling muscles for her to stare at and drool over when she was supposed to be kneeling without talking while waiting as he prepared for their play session.
Tonight, she hadn’t quite conquered the silently waiting part.
“Yes, Master?” she asked sheepishly,
“Open.”
When he held up a gag, she licked her lips then obediently opened her mouth for him to insert the flexible silicone bit between her teeth and secure the adjustable leather strap snugly behind her head. She wasn’t surprised and didn’t mind in the least; she loved strict bondage. Ropes, cuffs, straps, blindfolds, and gags—as long as she could breathe around them—she’d yet to complain about anything Finn had tied her up with or strapped her into.
“Now, then,” he said as he pulled her hair out from under the strap and smoothed the long thick red strands that he loved so much back behind her shoulders. “Suspension isn’t a skill conducive to distractions, and you, pretty lass, are in a chatty mood tonight.” He moved in front of her to check the fit, his fingers slipping beneath the leather that was snug, prevented her from speaking, but wasn’t too tight. Then he bent and kissed her, his lips gliding along her cheek to her ear. “You focus on sensations, the smell of the hay, how it prickles against your skin, the rope crisscrossing your body, and how the rope binding your breasts has them thrusting out further and swelling beautifully. Imagine what I’ll do to you next, mo chuisle, perhaps I’ll clamp those pink nipples so that when I hoist you in the air I can dangle little weights from them? Or leave them bare and vulnerable for the bite… of… my… whip.”
The last few words said slowly and with pulsing emphasis piqued both her excitement and her apprehension making her tremble and a soft moan drifted up from her throat and past the gag.
“Eager for my lash, baby?”
She nodded vigorously.
“And just a wee bit afraid, perhaps?”
She hesitated, but nodded again as Finn’s expectations, clearly stated on that not so long-ago Saturday night, echoed in her head. Truthful answers, candid responses, and honest emotion. I’ll expect no less and will give the same.
“There’s a good honest answer,” he murmured. “You’re going to love this, darlin’. Trust me.”
She blinked up at him, trying to
convey that she did, explicitly. If she didn’t, she’d never allow any of this. But she reveled in surrendering everything to this man, and when she did, soared to unbelievable heights of pleasure, spurred on by the erotic pain he expertly doled out,
Looking down at her, his lips curved into an affectionate smile, he pulled a soft cloth from his back pocket and wiped her chin. “Even gagged and drooling, you’re fucking beautiful, mo chuisle.”
He returned to the task, rigging her first rope suspension that her earlier chattering had pulled him from. And since he no longer blocked the mirror on the far wall, which didn’t belong in a hayloft, except when it was located in a bondage club, she had a clear view of her reflection. Vanity aside, she had to agree with him, she did make a beautifully erotic picture, on her knees, thighs spread, her hands bound behind her back, breasts swollen and standing out between the twisted, knotted rope bra he’d affixed to her body, naked except for the white Stetson atop her head. Oh, and her boots—honey brown with hand stitched flowers and little pinwheels in cream and pink—which she’d begged prettily for her Master to let her keep on.
Though she wasn’t a country girl, when she found them she knew they’d be perfect for tonight. Their rain check scene in the hayloft, the second most popular theme room, had taken three months on the ever-growing reservation schedule.
Construction was underway for eight more rooms. It wouldn’t put a dent in the demand, but it was a start. And there was discussion of opening a third club in San Francisco. Though it was a five-hour drive, many of their membership drove or flew it, and they had to do something to accommodate the hundreds of applicants on their constantly expanding waiting list.
She’d heard Finn talking to Master Eric one night, saying about the same thing she had, that owners or patrons shouldn’t have to wait forever for the playroom of their choice.
As she watched Finn run foot upon foot of natural hemp rope he preferred through his hands, she found it hard to believe they’d been together for three months already, living together nearly six weeks.
It was actually a lot longer. She didn’t remember them discussing it, except for the night of the shooting when he sang her cozy little Northridge abode’s praises. But a few items in her bathroom medicine chest—toothbrush, shaving cream, a razor—and a duffle of clean clothes had soon turned into a bottle of his man soap in her shower, two of her drawers filled with his boxers, socks and t-shirts, and his jeans, button up work shirts, and the one jacket which he wore with dark jeans when meeting with clients, hanging in her closet. And each morning, unless he was working an overnight case which wasn’t often, his boots were at the foot of her bed.
Dare to Love Again Page 24