by Bijou Hunter
"Do you trust him?" she asks.
"I don't trust anyone."
"That's not really an answer."
Smiling grudgingly, I shrug. "I think he's a man with the power to make a mess for your family. He has inside knowledge, and you said he's hungry."
"Should I worry?" she asks, patting the gun hidden under her shirt.
"No, not like that. I'm having him checked out again. This time, we're digging a bit deeper."
"Does Brad know?"
"No. He and I haven't spoken since New York."
Ruth leans against the counter and crosses her arms. "Why?"
"I'm not the person he'd like me to be, and changing isn't an option. We're not fighting, just giving each other space."
Ruth studies me for a long time and then nods. "He hasn't been with a woman in years. I don't know what he's thinking. I doubt he does either."
Ruth's words hit me hard, and I nearly blush at the thought of her attempting to soothe me. She wants me to give Brad time. She actually hopes he'll come around and give me a chance. Unaccustomed to a mother's approval, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with emotions my heart doesn't know how to process.
I'll wait for Brad, but I don't know if time is enough to fix what's broken between us.
24
~ Brad ~
Guy Time
Saskia remains in the kitchen with Mom for a long time. Twice, I think to return except I'm unsure how to deal with her. My feelings are all over the fucking place. I want her, but I don't know why. If I'm really falling in love with her, should I be okay with her torture speech?
I'm not okay with it though. When she talked about her work, I saw an ugly side of a woman I'd only worshipped until that point. How does she have so many faces? Are some of them real while other masks she wears to fool people? Is the real Saskia the one who smiles so warmly for me? Or is she the woman calmly explaining the best way to torture info from a human being?
I'm unsure how long I stand outside, bouncing the ball and staring blankly at the house. I catch sight of Lawrence walking out the backdoor. He approaches me carefully as if I'm a wild animal ready to pounce. I watch his tentative steps and wonder if Saskia gets this kind of charge from people fearing her.
Lawrence stands at the edge of the court and says, "New York went poorly, I hear."
"Yeah, but not the way you think. The wannabe killer didn't bother me much. I mean, he was there one second and dead the next. I didn't have much time to be bothered."
"You felt exposed anyway, I'm sure."
"I don't care about that," I grumble.
"Then what do you care about?"
Glancing towards the kitchen windows, I imagine Saskia helping Mom cook. Did Maven ever teach her daughter anything besides violence? Probably not. I nearly smile to think of Saskia enjoying motherly affection. Then I instantly wonder if she can even appreciate it.
"I'm falling for Saskia."
"And why is that a problem?" he asks before adding, "Does she not share your feelings?"
"I don't know if she feels anything at all," I say, immediately hit by guilt as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Lawrence gives me a minute before asking, "Why do you feel that way?"
Despite this man feeling like a member of the family, I never consider sharing Saskia's history with him. I guess I'm protective of her, and worry about what Lawrence might do with the knowledge of her criminal past.
"How can I tell the difference between lust and real feelings?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Lust is a real feeling."
"You know what I mean."
"I don't. By real, do you mean love?"
"Yeah, love."
"When you imagine being alone with Saskia, does your mind go to sex?"
Though I see us in bed, we're not having sex. I hold her in my arms while she studies me with her dark eyes before giving me a perfect smile.
"No," I mutter.
"You seem angry."
"I am angry. I know lust. When I was in Hollywood, I got dizzy from chasing so much tail. Those girls were hot and willing, and I wasn't looking for anything more than sex. I know lust."
"So it isn't lust with Saskia then."
"What if I can't feel more though?"
"Not every relationship leads to love."
"I fucking know that," I growl, stepping away from him.
"So explain to me why this one needs to lead to love?"
"It doesn't."
"Are you afraid of Saskia's reaction if you can't love her?"
"No."
"She's a complicated woman with a complicated past."
I frown at him. "How do you know that?"
"She killed a man in self defense a day earlier, and now she's cooking with Ruth. I'd assume for her to be so calm after a stressful event that she's likely lived a complicated life. Am I wrong?"
"No." I mutter, thinking of just how complicated Saskia's life has been.
"Was she upset after the shooting?"
"She was angry that I didn't hide like a little bitch while she took down the asshole."
"It's her job to protect you, so I can see her point."
"And I'm supposed to stand by while she's fighting an armed man?"
"Again, you hired her to do just that."
"Yeah, but she's my..."
Never losing his professional facade, he asks, "Girlfriend?"
"I guess."
"Is that why you two are on the outs? Is she still upset that you didn't hide like a bitch?"
"No."
"Why are you upset, Brad? Do you even know?"
Bouncing the ball again, I realize I don't know exactly why I'm angry. I mean I knew Saskia was a cold-blooded killer since day one. She never once seemed worried about either taking a life or a bullet.
"I love her," I say softly. "She brings something out in me. I feel different with her, and I don't want to lose that feeling."
"And you're worried she doesn't feel the same way?"
"I worry she can't feel the same way. What if she's too cold inside to ever love me or anyone else?"
"What makes you think that?"
Shooting the ball at the hoop, I'm not even close. "Fuck."
"Let's go for a walk."
Following him, I lose my anger. Now I'm miserable at the thought of Saskia being a damn sociopath incapable of loving anyone. I refuse to let her go, but I don't know if I can make her want to stay.
"Let me ask you something and I want you to really think about it before answering."
"Fine," I say, patting Peter walking beside me.
"I know you and Saskia have slept together. Have you also spent time outside the bedroom together?"
"Yes."
"So you know her more than on a surface level, right?"
"I think so."
"Well you've talked to her about topics that don't involve her job and sex, right?"
"Right," I mutter, losing my temper again.
"Do you think you could fall in love with her, if she was dead inside? When I spoke to her the other day, she didn't even attempt to make me feel wanted. That doesn’t mean she is dead inside though."
"She's like that in the beginning," I say defensively. "It's how she had to be to survive in her old life. She warms up though."
"Does she show concern for you that doesn't involve her job?"
"Yes."
"This thing she did or said that made you worry she might be a sociopath, did she seem to feel bad about it?"
"No."
"Do you think she should?"
Frowning, I stop and look back at the house. "I would."
Lawrence stops walking and asks, "Would you feel bad about it if you had her life? People learn different coping skills. Yours involve talking to me and having a support system. I don't know how Saskia copes with things. Shutting off her feelings could be a skill she learned. To you, her behavior seems wrong or cold. However, she might think your way of dealing with problems is wrong and
weird."
Kneeling down, I pet Egon and think about Lawrence's words. "She grew up in a cold world with violent people. I guess showing weakness... Hell, showing any emotion at all would be a weakness. A liability even. "
"In your world, her coping skills aren't necessary. So if you two remained together, she might learn new ones. That's not something she can do overnight. And honestly, it's not fair for you to expect her to change at the snap of your fingers."
"So I'm the bad guy?"
"No, you're a man inexperienced and uncomfortable with relationships outside of your immediate family. You hide here because it's comfortable. Your mother and Nell encourage your dependency. Now you've met a woman who pushes you outside your comfort zone, and you react accordingly."
Lawrence begins walking again, and I follow him. "Brad, no one is the bad guy here. Saskia is just different from you. She needs time to adjust to your life."
"So what do I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
"That's not an answer."
"I'm your therapist, not your heart. You want something from Saskia. You need to decide if it's worth waiting for. I can't answer that for you."
Glancing back at the house, I admit, "I want her to give up her job and stay with me."
"Why give up her job?"
"She closes down when she works. The job keeps her cold and hard. I want her to be able to let her guard down."
"You thought she was a sociopath earlier."
Rolling my eyes, I hate when Lawrence catches my bullshit.
"Fine, I don't want to believe that's her. When we watch my ghost shows, she laughs a lot, and I see her opening up. Like how she's cooking with Mom now. Saskia wants to be different. At least, I hope she does. Like I said, I want to keep her and I can't if she's not the woman I want her to be. I could be just lying to myself to make her right for me though."
"True. Only time will tell if what you see is real. The problem is you'll need to put yourself at risk emotionally to find out. This isn't something you've been comfortable doing since the attack. With Saskia, there's no protecting yourself from the pain if she rejects or disappoints you."
"So I man up and accept this woman might break my heart."
Lawrence gives me a sympathetic smile. "Exactly. That or you close off your feelings from her and end things. It really is your choice. You can't control that you love her, but you can control whether you act on that love."
"Well I need to know how she really feels. I won't walk away without being sure. Not knowing would eat me up."
"Then you have your answer."
"So I go to her?"
"I can't answer that. I don't know enough about your dynamics to know whether you should wait until she comes to you. You could make a mental deadline that if she doesn't approach you then you'll approach her."
Lawrence and I walk for another twenty minutes around the property. When we stop at the front porch, I throw a ball for the dogs.
"I need a guy friend. Talking about chicks with you is weird."
"Then get a guy friend."
"How?"
"I guess leaving the property might be a good first step."
I look around my front yard and think about searching for a guy friend. "No, I'm good. I prefer the company of women anyway."
"I know you do," Lawrence says, nearly laughing.
Despite my irritation, I find myself smiling. The guy knows me too fucking well. Even if it's weird talking to him about my love life, he's the only guy I trust. He's right about me not wanting to leave my safe place. This property keeps me sane, and I'm uninterested in changing to make a few token friends. If Saskia remains here with me, my life will be pretty damn complete.
25
~ Saskia ~
Lost in Plain Sight
Standing in the darkness, I stare at Brad's door for a long time. I'm afraid to knock on it. I fear once he sees me that he'll shut the door. I hate feeling such fear, so I force my hand into a fist and knock lightly. Facing my fear is how I've survived long enough to reach this moment.
A sleepy Brad opens the door and blinks several times before really focusing on me.
"I'm sorry," I nearly whisper. "I did nothing wrong, but I'm still sorry."
"Why are you sorry if you did nothing wrong?"
My fingers ache to touch his warm skin. Knowing I can't reach for him, I push myself to explain what I don't want to say.
"When I look in the mirror, I see no fault. But when I look at me through your eyes, I see a monster."
Brad reaches out and brushes away a tear from my cheek. "You aren't a monster."
"I feel no guilt for my past."
"If I were you, I doubt I would either."
"But you're not me."
"Good," he says, taking me into his arms. "I don't want to date myself."
I expect him to kiss me. Instead, Brad walks to the bed and simply holds me in his powerful arms. When my lips search for his, he only kisses me gently before returning to hugging me.
"When was the last time you were allowed to be soft?" he whispers, nuzzling my neck.
"Never."
Brad slides off my shirt before pressing our bare chests together. When I again try to kiss him, he won't allow our lips to touch.
"I want you to relax," he whispers against my neck.
"I am relaxed."
"No, you're really not."
Brad's fingers slide down my spine. His touch awakens my flesh, making me squirm on his lap.
"I want you," I murmur.
"You need this."
"You're trying to change me."
"If you didn't want to change, you wouldn't care how I saw you. You crave tenderness, Saskia. You've just forgotten what it feels like."
"Do you want me to change you?" I ask, frustrated by how he won't let me kiss him.
"I want you to relax."
Despite his soft touch and warm skin, I never relax to his satisfaction. Finally, I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes.
His heartbeat is slow and steady. Brad isn't nervous or angry about me being with him. I try to give him what he wants, but resting in his arms makes me think of sex. My hips roll instinctually against the hardness between his legs. His strong hands grab my thighs and keep me still.
"Why are you afraid to sit still?"
"I'm not."
Brad studies my face in the darkness. His fingers leave my thighs and caress my cheeks. He frowns slightly before kissing my forehead.
"You don't even realize you're lying."
"I want you."
"And I want you to relax."
Kissing him, I enjoy only a taste before he wraps me in his arms. I rest my head against his chest again. My hands reach around him and caress his back. Lingering over his scars, my fingers are tender in a way they're rarely capable.
I breathe slowly and deeply, enjoying his hot, clean scent. I imagine him in the shower, washing every inch of his strong body. In my mind, I join him, and he washes me too. As I bare myself to him, he cleanses the sins of my past.
Time passes as we hold each other in the quiet room. When I sit up and stare into Brad's eyes, he remains silent. My lips find his, and he doesn't stop me this time. Our mouths lock together, and I can't breathe.
The truth is I don't want to breathe. All I desire is for Brad to consume me in every way until I'm part of him.
26
~ Saskia ~
Sins of My Mother
Heavenly hours pass in Brad's bed. I crave this distraction from all the reasons we can't work. Every time he tries to speak, I cover his mouth with mine. Silence is golden. Ignorance is bliss. Tomorrow will offer only cold reality. For tonight though, we only know pleasure.
His body is so strong that he moves around the room with our bodies attached. We fuck against the dresser and wall. He carries me to the bathroom where I stand on the counter while he sucks my swollen lips. I nearly rip the mirror loose from the wall in a fit of pleasure.
Once I'm satisfied, his cock returns to my body as Brad moves us to the floor near the fireplace. His hips thrust frantically until he finds a powerful release inside me. I can't keep up with his pace. My hands grip his arms while my pussy sucks hard at his cock. I want him inside me forever. When we fuck, the world outside this room doesn't matter. I can't remember Little Maven or the cult. I only see Brad and know I make him happy.
We find our way back to the bed where Brad explores my body before fucking me again as if it's our first time. My pussy throbs with satisfaction and a hint of pain from the vigorous penetration by such a large man. Screw the lack of logic with our size differences. In this room, I believe Brad was created only for me.
Just after two in the morning, Brad climbs out of bed and stretches. When I smile at the sight of his perfect body, he catches me looking and shares my grin. I expect him to use the bathroom, but instead he dresses in a shirt and boxers. Frowning, I sit up as he tosses my shirt at me.
"Let's go outside," he says softly.
I refuse to leave the bed. Saying nothing, Brad studies me in the dark room.
"Why can't we stay in here?" I finally ask.
"I want fresh air, and I want you to come with me."
How can I say no? I feel all wrong without Brad nearby. I need him to keep me warm and grounded. Otherwise, I might freeze from the ugliness of my past catching up with me.
Even pulling on my shirt and panties, I don't leave the bed. Brad watches me for a long time before wiping a fresh tear from my cheek.
"I don't cry," I whisper.
"I know."
He holds out his hand, and I take it quickly. My eyes continue to tear. I doubt this is how normal people cry. I've never cared enough to pay attention to a person's tears. Working my job meant feeling nothing even when emotions were all around me.
Stumbling after Brad, I hate the wetness on my cheeks. Yet even lost in my tears, I grab my gun before we leave the room.
The dogs wake when we walk into the living room. I'm actually happy to see them. With my tears, I need help protecting Brad.
"Wait here," he tells me.
I don't want to let go of his hand, but Brad moves quickly away from me. I use the back of my hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks. This emotional crap isn't me, and I don't know how to make it stop. All I know is I want Brad.