by LK Shaw
“I’m fine. Just tell me what’s going on, Gabby. You’re scaring me.”
“I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you in any way.” I inhaled, not knowing where to start. I guess with the easiest thing. “My name isn’t Gabriela.”
Michele drew back in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“My real name is Ines Rodriguez. I’m an officer with the Chicago PD, and I’ve been undercover for the last few months while I searched for my brother.”
Confusion cleared replaced with first, shock and then the sharpest emotion of all. Hurt.
“You mean—” Michele’s voice cracked and then rose with accusation “—you lied to me? All this time you’ve been lying to me?”
I tried to clasp her hands, but she pulled them back, clutching them into fists at her side as though holding in her pain. Her breath came in short bursts.
“I didn’t want to, I swear.”
Her eyes glistened with tears as she raged. “You know how I feel about liars and you did it anyway.”
She was right. I knew how she felt. Not why, but I definitely knew how she felt, especially after that night at the el. My shoulders sagged in defeat.
“I’m sorry. I was desperate to find Ernesto. He was my main priority. Then, I got to know you and you became my friend. But, Michele, you have to understand. I was doing my job. It wasn’t meant to hurt you. I was protecting myself and trying to protect my brother. Do you know what Alejandro would have done to me if he knew I was a cop? They’d already killed Ernesto. He would have killed me, too. Or worse. If I’d told you who I really was, you might be dead. Maybe even Maisy. You have to understand. Everything I’ve done is to protect the people I care about. Including you.”
My eyes begged for a forgiveness I prayed was granted. I tried again to reach out for her, holding my breath and praying. I almost cried when she let me wrap my hands around hers. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around me. I did the same and we were both sobbing against the other’s shoulder. When our tears dried, she pulled away and wiped a stray drop from her lashes.
“I understand why you did what you had to do. It still hurts, but I understand. What happens now? Are you safe? Did Alejandro find out about you? Oh my god, are you in danger coming here?”
“I’m safe. Alejandro can’t hurt anyone ever again. He’s burning in hell where he belongs. Do you remember the night this happened?” I gestured to my face.
She turned another grief-stricken glance at my scar. “How could I forget? That was the scariest night of my life.”
“Mine too. But for more reasons than just a cut on my face. He threatened someone I’d come to care for. Someone else who was keeping secrets.”
I let her puzzle it out. Her eyes widened and she breathed out his name. “Tomás.”
I nodded. “That’s part of the reason I was gone for so long. Alejandro was holding him captive. Torturing him. Because of his secrets.”
“Tomás wasn’t who he said he was, was he?”
Michele never ceased to amaze me with how smart she was. “Who is he?”
“His name is Brody Thomas. He’s D.E.A. Was, anyway.”
She looked gobsmacked. I didn’t blame her. I was still a little shell-shocked over everything that had happened over the last week, and I was there for it. I should be used to the news of who Brody really was, but there were moments I was still wrapping my head around it.
“So, what happens now?”
“Well, I hope we can remain friends.” I was almost shy in my request.
Michele smiled and my heart grew lighter. “I’d really like that.”
“Me too.” I reached out and squeezed her hand. “There was another reason I came by tonight. I wanted to let you know that Brody and I are leaving town. We’re going to settle somewhere new. Somewhere safe.”
Michele’s face dropped. “When are you leaving?”
I smiled sadly back at her. “In the morning.”
She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too. But if there is ever anything you need, please know you can call me.”
Michele and I exchanged phone numbers and I left her with the promise I’d call her soon. Once she’d gone back inside, I turned to where my love waited for me. I slipped on my leather jacket and helmet before climbing on the back of the Softail.
“I’m glad you were able to see her before we left.” Brody squeezed the hands I’d wrapped around his waist. He’d finally stopped wearing his sling.
“Me too.” Sadness crept in behind the exhilaration of beginning a new life. I hugged Brody tighter as he cranked up the bike, its engine roaring loud in the otherwise quiet parking lot. “I’m both sad and excited about going home to Colorado though. Chicago is such a great city, but I miss the mountains and wide open spaces.”
He pulled out and headed toward my dad’s house. We planned on spending our last night in town with my family.
“We can come back and visit. It’s best that we get out of town for a while. At least until Miguel is caught.”
“I know. I just hope it’s soon.”
Epilogue
Six months later
The sky was a fiery burst of reds, oranges, and yellows as the sun set behind the mountainous horizon. I reclined against the warm body behind me, Brody’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist, while we sat on our wraparound porch absorbing the beauty in front of us. The last few months had been full of peace and tranquility, something we’d both earned, especially Brody. He was still struggling with the guilt of some of the things he’d done while undercover, but slowly he was learning to forgive himself. He also was trying hide his disappointment that Preston had chosen to go back home to Chicago, even though they spoke a couple times a week. The ringing phone interrupted our solace.
I swiped right and greeted my brother. “Hey Victor.”
“Ines.”
I jerked upright at his tone. Brody tensed behind me. “What’s wrong?”
It was then I could hear soft crying in the background. “Is that Estelle? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Someone tried to kidnap her tonight.” He paused, and I knew there was more. “We think it was Miguel.”
“Son of a bitch. We’re coming home.” I’d already risen and hustled into the house to start packing.
“No,” he commanded. “Stay where you are. I’m watching over her. If it’s Miguel, we’ll get him. It’s not safe for you right now, especially Brody.”
I growled, because I knew he was right, although I wasn’t happy about it. “You better keep me updated, and if things get too much, I’m coming back regardless.”
“I’ll be in touch. I just wanted you to know so you two could keep an eye out, just in case his people find you. Look, we can’t talk long. I’ll call you soon. Love you.”
“Love—” Victor hung up before I could finish.
I wanted to throw the phone across the room, but I settled for slamming it on the couch. I started to pace when Brody pulled me into his arms. I cuddled closer and breathed in his scent, trying to find my control.
“Talk to me, baby.” His voice vibrated through his chest against my cheek.
“Estelle may be in danger, and it’s all my fault. Victor thinks it was Miguel, and there’s nothing I can do about it right now. He thinks we need to stay here, and I’m pissed because he’s right. If we step back into Chicago and Miguel is there, you’re a dead man, and most likely me right along with you.”
I softened in Brody’s embrace, especially when he stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head. “She has Victor. You know he’ll protect her with his life.”
“I know, but it still hurts that I can’t be there to help.” I sniffled a tear back.
“She’ll be okay. You have to believe that.”
“I’m just scared.”
Brody pulled back and cupped my cheeks in his strong hands, wiping away a stray tear with his
thumb. “The best thing you can do for Estelle is to be safe. She wouldn’t want you to sacrifice yourself for her. Trust Victor.”
“I do. He’s in love with her. I know he’ll do everything he can to make sure she stays safe.”
“Just continue to remind yourself that, and everything will be okay.” He leaned down to ghost a kiss across my lips. “C’mon, let’s go check on the herd and then we’ll head to bed. Things will look better in the morning. I promise.”
I stared up at this man I loved more than anything. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”
His smile lit up his face. “I ask myself that every day. Except I’m the lucky one. I love you Ines Maite Rodriguez.”
“I love you too.”
I temporarily pushed away all thoughts of danger and walked hand in hand outside to check on our stock. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d give up being a police officer to raise cattle in the wilds of Colorado with the man I loved. The lowing sounds made by our cows was a vast change from the city sounds of a bustling Chicago.
But I’d found more happiness out here than I ever thought possible. Here, with Brody, was where I belonged.
If you enjoyed Ines and Brody’s story, then be sure to check out Secrets of Submission, the first book in the Secrets series. Turn the page for the first chapter.
Available in Kindle Unlimited
http://amzn.to/2h0tgsj
Acknowledgments
There are so many people who helped make this book happen and who have my thanks and appreciation. First and foremost, thank you to Holly S. Roberts for inviting me to be part of this project. You have no idea how many ledges you talked me down from while I stressed the f*ck out about this book. Your kind words and encouragement really helped push me and gave me confidence when I needed it the most. Your friendship means the world to me. Thank you to Jenniffer Tomar Herrera who helped me translate my insults and curse words into Spanish and made sure that Google Translate didn’t make me look like an idiot. Thank you to Livia Grant for helping me with Chicago geography and local information. It’s been too many years since I’ve been to Chi-town, and your knowledge of the city is greatly appreciated. Thank you to Dayna Hart from Hart to Heart Editing. You came highly recommended and now I see why. Bless you for all the chats, the confidence boosts, and your kindness. Those missing 7K words only hurt for a minute (or six-hundred seventy three minutes and eighteen seconds).
Thank you to my readers, who’ve continued to support me through these past few months of mental crisis. It’s been longer than I planned between releases, and you’ve stuck by me. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. None of this would be possible without you.
Secrets of Submission
Secrets of Submission
Copyright 2016 by LK Shaw
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book, with the exception of brief quotations for book reviews or critical articles, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-5239386-7-4
Editor: Red Quill Editing
Cover artist: PopKitty Designs
Created with Vellum
Penny
Butterflies fluttered in my belly as I wiped my sweaty palms on my pant leg. My heart beat a hundred times a minute. My mind urged me to run. I was about to step outside my comfort zone. My safe, vanilla comfort zone. A comfort zone that, to date, had brought me nothing except heartache. I sat in my car contemplating changing my life for that very reason. Would it change for the better? I didn’t know, which made it even more nerve wracking. How it changed couldn’t be any worse than the stagnant life I currently led. I was floating through life without a paddle. I needed direction. The fact that I continued to sit here contemplating this made me question my sanity. This being showing up to a vanilla potluck attended by people in the BDSM community.
Vanilla meant a non-kink, family environment. A casual get-together to laugh and have fun. I’d spent weeks researching the kink community on the internet and had waffled back and forth so much about showing up today that my head ached from all the tension. My muscles tightened with anxiety. My emotions volleyed like a ping-pong ball between excitement and nervousness. Mild panic caused my heart to flutter, my face to flush, and sweat to bead across my forehead.
So many questions rattled around in my head. What would I wear? What should I bring to eat? Who do I talk to? Most importantly, WHAT do I talk about? I imagined everyone there would know exactly what I was — a thirty-five-year-old, overweight woman, whose longest relationship had only lasted a year. A relationship so toxic I don’t even know how I managed to find myself again after I broke it off.
Throughout the entire relationship, my ex told me I was fat. That I wasn’t smart enough or good enough. He spoke of it so subtly, though, I didn’t even realize it had been happening until one night when we were out with some friends. I had come back from the bathroom when I overheard my ex talking to one of the guys about me. About how he had to turn the lights off when we had sex, because he couldn’t stand to look at me. He even joked about how I had no idea the number of women he had on the side. At that point, I realized what I’d allowed him to do to me and my self-esteem. I felt so stupid for being oblivious to how I’d allowed him to treat me. The pain radiated like a slap to the face. It spoke to how beaten down he’d made me feel that I hadn’t recognized the signs. That moment defined me and made me realize that I deserved better. Without a word, I walked out of the bar and never saw him again.
I had dated some since then, except I never let anyone get close enough emotionally to hurt me. I fiercely guarded my heart, afraid to open myself up again and be vulnerable to the kind of hurt I’d already experienced. I fought back against the insecurities that had become so engrained in me. I hadn’t fully recovered my confidence or self-esteem, but every day, I studied my reflection in the mirror and told myself, “You are beautiful, smart, and good enough for any man.” I continued to have bouts of the self-doubt bullshit to work through, but I figured that the more times I said it, soon enough I would believe it. I also worked on opening my heart to someone, which I found extremely difficult. Once trust is broken, it’s hard not to become cynical about love.
As if having low self-esteem wasn’t bad enough. My sex life turned virtually non-existent. I had never gotten any real enjoyment out of sex when I’d been with my ex or any of the guys I’d briefly dated since then. I had tried to love fucking as much as the next woman, but something always seemed to be missing. I rarely orgasmed, but I became a pro at faking one. If I did come, it usually happened because I resorted to getting myself off when my partner fell asleep.
I had reached the age where spending my weekend nights at a bar or club trying to pick up a man no longer appealed to me. The majority of my friends were already in relationships or married. I had a few single girlfriends, and a couple of them tried to set me up with one of their friends, but nothing ever worked out. So, I spent a lot of my time reading and living vicariously through the characters. I read a lot of dirty books. They were my guilty pleasure. I read books with sex scenes so hot, I practically felt the deep pounding of a man’s cock inside me. The mingled breaths, the gasps, the moans, the fingertips ghosting along my skin sending shockwaves through my body. While dating my ex, urges came over me. Urges to give up control and be dominated. In hindsight, I realized why I never expressed my wishes and fantasies to him.
I had an inkling, a feeling, a hunch, a whatever you want to call it, that I was submissive. The thought of being dominated and controlled had me throbbing deep inside. Other
than the throbbing in my pussy I experienced when reading BDSM books, I didn’t really know what it meant to submit or to give up control. With not being in a relationship, and having not been in one for a long time, I wasn’t comfortable exploring or giving up that control to someone I didn’t fully know and trust. I realized now that I’d always kept a part of myself hidden from the few partners I’d been with. I wasn’t getting any younger either. I wanted to find that person I could trust with the needs I didn’t fully understand. I needed more from life than casual fucks that I only half ass enjoyed.
Which led me to my current situation. Me, sitting in my car at a local city park, store bought potato salad in hand. I’d never pictured myself as a voyeur until today. Finally, after a half an hour of watching, I worked up the nerve to open the car door and start placing one foot in front of the other. I made my way to the shelter house and sat my potato salad in the buffet line. I moved by the wall and remained there, like a wallflower, while I waited for someone to talk to me.
“Mmm, fresh meat,” a deep, gravelly voice spoke from my right. I turned in that direction. What I saw caused my breath to hitch, and I had to remind myself to keep breathing. Beside me stood the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. He appeared slightly older than me and stood over six feet tall with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. He wore blue jeans and a tight navy t-shirt that only accentuated his muscular chest and arms. The flecks of gray in his wavy, dark brown hair glinted in the sunlight. I became lost in the soul searching forest green eyes that roved over me from head to toe, pausing slightly at my lips. Unconsciously, I licked them. As I did, his nostrils flared and a flash of arousal lit up his eyes. My face heated as a blush spread across my cheeks, and my eyes automatically dropped away from his intense stare. His full, sensuous lips were quirked up into a half smile, and I fantasized about running my tongue up his square jaw lined with the perfect amount of scruff. “What a delectable blush.”