Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rachel Clark

  “No,” I say, feeling relieved that at least she isn’t here to witness my failure. I should have known. I should have seen this coming. I should have done my best to avoid it.

  “Don’t move, sweetheart,” the man says as he moves away. I finally realize the voice is unfamiliar, that it doesn’t belong to John. Moments later I hear an angry argument, and then the internal door to the garage slams, the tires on my husband’s car screeching on the driveway a moment later as he leaves in a hurry.

  I try to move, but a warm hand lands on my shoulder once more.

  “Karly, stay still. I’ve called the ambulance. They’ll be here soon.”

  “No,” I say as panic drills through me. No one can know. How can I explain?

  “Sweetheart, you need medical help.”

  “I’m fine,” I manage to slur drunkenly. I try to lift myself off the ground to prove it, but his soft touch on my shoulder won’t let me budge.

  “Grant, it’s me…Yeah I’m home, sort of…Look, I don’t have time to explain. I’m dealing with a situation. Can you find Casey James and bring her to St. Michaels Hospital?”

  It takes me a while to realize he’s not talking to me, but I need to stop him. I don’t even know who this man is.

  “No, ’m fine,” I mumble tiredly.

  “No, Karly, you’re not,” he says as I try to sit up again. Damn, I’ve never had a concussion before, but I think maybe this is what they feel like. “Casey and Grant will meet us at the hospital.”

  I want to nod, but my head hurts too much. I feel tears—or is that blood?—slipping sideways across my face to pool on the carpet that I’ve just had cleaned.

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” the man says as he lifts my hand into his own. “You’re safe now. I won’t let this happen again.” I sob as I grip the man’s hand tightly, suddenly terrified of what my husband might do if he saw I was damaging the carpet.

  Fuck. How could I have forgotten the rules?

  * * * *

  Bryce tried to rein in his temper. Only God knew what might have happened to Karly if he hadn’t come in when he did. At first glance he’d thought she was the victim of a home invasion, but when the man busy smashing up the place had turned and told him, “Get the fuck out of my house,” Bryce had revised his assumptions.

  And none of them had been good.

  Karly James, the woman who’d accused every Dom at the club of brainwashing and beating women under the guise of BDSM was actually a victim of domestic abuse herself.

  He wanted to kick himself for not noticing. He’d been so angry and hurt by the public accusations she’d flung his way that he hadn’t stopped to wonder if she’d had more than one reason to interpret her sister’s lifestyle the way she had.

  The siren of the ambulance was a welcome respite to his inner turmoil. He’d left the front door open when he’d come through earlier so there was no need to leave Karly alone, a thought that was solidified when her grip tightened on his fingers.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What happened?” one of the ambulance officers asked as they hurried into the room.

  “Her husband attacked her,” Bryce said, even knowing that Karly probably would have liked to keep the identity of her attacker quiet. She sobbed louder, but didn’t let go of his hand. The ambulance officer nodded as he reached into the bag he’d been carrying. “And you are?” The question was just a little too casual to not be offensive. Clearly the man had seen too many horrifying outcomes to love triangles.

  “I’m a friend of her sister’s,” Bryce answered as he pushed down the annoyance. The guy was doing his job, just trying to assess the situation and keep himself and his partner safe.

  “So why didn’t you call the police?”

  “I did,” Bryce answered through gritted teeth. Admittedly, he’d hesitated to contact the police. After what happened to her sister, having Karly arrive at the hospital accompanied by two men the police had spoken to the night of Casey’s heart attack was not going to look good for any of them—especially in light of the newspaper articles Karly had written. Thankfully, good sense had kicked in and he’d asked for both police and ambulance because, very simply, it was the right thing to do. Karly’s husband needed to be charged with assault, and if Karly even so much as thought about not doing it, Bryce intended to remind her of everything she’d said to Casey, hoping to convince her to have Robert charged.

  Ironically, in the end it had been Casey’s decision to go against the advice of all her friends. It had taken some time, but eventually every member of the club had supported the idea of Robert being charged—even if it did personally expose them to uncomfortable scrutiny. At least that was what Grant had told him via email. Having been out of the country for five months Bryce could only go on secondhand information. He trusted his brother’s assessment of the situation, but with Grant’s idea of a long email being three whole lines and a phone call longer than a minute being a waste of time, Bryce was working on the bare bones of information.

  Thankfully, the arrival of the police in the driveway cut off any further interrogation and the EMTs turned their attention back to their patient. Bryce didn’t blame them for their wariness—domestic disputes were often unpredictable—but he sure wished for a world where it wasn’t necessary.

  The police officers asked several quick questions before agreeing to meet them at the hospital. They’d seemed reluctant at first to let him go in the ambulance with Karly, but once they’d verified his identity via his driver’s license and determined that a car had left the driveway in a skid-marking hurry the way he’d described they let him accompany her.

  Their decision probably had something to do with the fact that Karly’s hand was wrapped so tightly around his that he was losing feeling in his fingers. No way was he going to leave her side when she needed someone so desperately to hold on to.

  Chapter Three

  I wake suddenly, my heart pounding in terror.

  I need to clean the carpet. Shit, I probably got blood all over it. John is going to be so mad when he gets home. I need to get it cleaned to a spotless perfection. I don’t want to disappoint him the way I did earlier with dinner.

  But sitting up makes me dizzy. I swallow hard, unable to open my eyes, not certain where I am.

  “Karly,” my sister says in a sad voice as gentle hands ease me back onto the pillow. I don’t fight them. I’m too dizzy even to mumble a protest, but I really need to fix the mess I made. Larger hands hold me and caress my arm softly as I try once again to sit up.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got everything under control. Lie back and rest for a while longer.”

  I know that voice. Thankfully, it doesn’t belong to my husband, but I can’t quite place who owns it. I know it’s the man who found me, the one who stayed with me while we waited for the ambulance, the one who saved me from my husband’s violent temper, but I can’t put a face to the name.

  “Grant,” the man says, obviously not talking to me but someone else in the room, “go see if you can find the doctor.”

  The man must have nodded because the only sound I hear is footsteps leaving the room.

  “You don’t understand,” I say, my teeth aching from the pounding in my head. “I need to get it cleaned up before he gets home. John hates it when the carpet is a mess.”

  “Yeah, well John can go and get fu—”

  “Karly,” my sister says in a voice clearly designed to interrupt the man’s words, “do you know where you are?”

  “Hostibitable,” I say. I feel like I’m talking around a mouthful of marbles. Why haven’t I noticed that sooner? I thought I was talking normally. My second attempt is no better. “Hopsittable.” Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “That’s right,” the man says in a soothing voice. “You’re in St. Michael’s Hospital. Do you remember why you’re here?”

  “Rules,” I say, struggling to get my mouth working cor
rectly. “Forgot.”

  “You forgot the rules?” Casey asks, sounding surprised. “What rules?”

  “Dinner. Clean. H–Happy.” I try to pry my eyes open without success. I’m growing really frustrated. I don’t understand why I can’t talk. I ache all over. And Fuck! I need to clean the carpet! “Carpet happy clean dinner.”

  “It’s okay,” the man’s voice says in a deep soothing tone. “The carpet is already clean. Dinner is on the table. It’s okay now, sweetheart. Everyone will be happy.”

  I almost sob with relief and lie back down.

  I know the secret to a happy marriage. I can’t believe that I actually forgot.

  * * * *

  Grant was ready to put his fist through a wall. Six months ago they’d thought Casey had looked awful lying in a bed in this hospital. Karly’s appearance proved how wrong assumptions could be. Both of her eyes were black and swollen closed. She had a deep laceration on her forehead, and according to what Bryce had told him, she had several fist-size bruises on her ribcage. If he had to guess he’d say the body blows were deliberate—easily hidden from prying eyes and exactly what a cowardly wife beater would aim for—but that the cut on her head, possible concussion and swollen, black eyes had been from Karly hitting a bench or table edge as she fell forward.

  Hell. Karly had been so vocal about her hatred for men who bashed women that he would never have guessed the secret she’d been hiding.

  Grant and Bryce stood back as the doctor finally came into the room and started asking questions that seemed designed to check the severity of a brain injury. Grant held himself rigid as Karly answered several simple questions with strange answers. She got a few correct—at least he thought the unintelligible sounds she made were close to the correct answer—but he held his breath when the doctor indicated for Casey to follow him out of the room.

  Thankfully, his roommate and friend reached for his hand in a silent request for him to come, too. Bryce nodded, taking Karly’s hand in his own once more as Grant and Casey left the room.

  “The X-rays and CT scan came up clear so there’s no serious damage.”

  “Why did she get the questions wrong then?” Casey asked nervously.

  “Disorientation is normal after an accident like this.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Grant said through gritted teeth. “Her husband attacked her.”

  “My apologies for the poor phrasing,” the doctor said quickly, giving him a grim nod in acknowledgement. “After an injury like this, disorientation is normal. The concussion is mild but I would like to keep her overnight.”

  “Overnight?” Casey asked fretfully. It was clear that she didn’t think that was long enough. “What about her eyes? Her ribs?”

  “Ms. James, your sister was very lucky, but I would suggest that she not return to her home or her husband. Does she have somewhere else to stay?”

  “She can stay with us,” Grant said quickly, making certain that Casey knew her sister was welcome. He and Bryce might own the house but it was plenty big enough for four adults to cohabitate. Judging by Bryce’s reactions to Karly so far, it’s something he would likely insist on anyway.

  The doctor glanced at his watch. “Visiting hours are almost over, but I’m going to leave instructions for the nurses to allow one person to stay by her bedside for the night. Concussion can be tricky, and it’s very helpful to have a familiar voice.”

  “Okay,” Casey said, obviously anxious to go back to her sister. “Thank you, doctor.”

  Grant held back, waiting for Casey to get out of earshot. The doctor seemed to understand what he was waiting for. “Karly was very, very lucky. It would be a good idea if she’s not left alone with her husband.” The older man ran a hand over his bald head and sighed quietly. “I know cases like this can be tricky, but…”

  “We’ll protect her,” Grant said with quiet determination.

  He knew Bryce and at least a few of the other Doms he and his brother trusted would help. They would set aside the hurt they’d felt from her newspaper articles and do what was right. No one deserved to go through what had happened to Karly.

  “Thank you,” the doctor said with a tired nod. Grant stood in the hallway and watched the man as he walked away. Karly’s story wasn’t unique by any stretch of the imagination. It must be awful for a doctor to continually patch up beaten wives who return to their violent, abusive husbands over and over. Grant could barely imagine the sense of helplessness and despair that would follow.

  He turned back and walked into the room. Karly James might not understand it right now, but she’d just gained a community willing to protect her with their lives, and stubborn, outspoken woman or not, Karly James was going to be safe.

  Chapter Four

  I finally wake with no headache. Actually, scratch that, I still have a headache, but this time it’s more manageable.

  “Karly?” The voice is deep and familiar. Too bad I still don’t know who the man is. My eyes feel worse now. I don’t even want to try to open them. “How are you feeling?” the man asks.

  “Peachy,” I answer sarcastically. How the fuck does he think I’m feeling? “Where’s John?”

  “Your husband?” the man asks, sounding shocked, but then he reaches over and places a warm hand over my freezing cold one. “You’re safe here. We won’t let him hurt you again.”

  “Hurt me?” I ask in confusion. Surely the man doesn’t think this happens all the time. “He didn’t hurt me. Not intentionally. I hit the coffee table as I fell. It was an accident.”

  “No Karly, it wasn’t.”

  “Was too,” I argue childishly. I know John didn’t mean to hurt me this badly. We’ve had disagreements before, but all I have to do is remember the rules and everything is fine.

  “Explain the bruised kidneys then.”

  Talking hurts my head anyway, so I don’t even bother trying to explain. Obviously this man thinks the worst of my husband and isn’t going to be swayed by logical argument.

  “Karly, when I came into your house your husband was smashing up the place while you bled on the floor. He might not have intended to beat you badly enough for people to see, but the punches he landed on your torso were intentional and designed to make you hurt for a very long time.”

  “Where’s Casey?” I ask, deliberately changing the subject.

  “She and Chris just went to grab coffee.”

  “Chris who?”

  “Chris is one of the Doms from the club.”

  “Dom?” I ask frantically as I try to lever myself out of the bed. A large warm hand on my shoulder gently presses me back. As worried as I am for my sister, the pain shooting through my ribs cannot be denied. Shit, I remember this pain well. It had been more than two years, but right now I remember the injuries with a clarity I can’t quite explain. “My sister is going to get herself killed. What the hell is she thinking going off with a man whose idea of a good time is beating the hell out of her?”

  I could be wrong, but I can hear a noise that sounds like someone grinding their teeth.

  “Chris is a good guy and an experienced Dom. He’ll protect Casey, not hurt her.” The words are strained, almost as if the owner is trying to hold on to his temper.

  I want to ask how he knows the man my sister is with. I mean, I’m still not certain who I’m talking to, but I’m starting to get an uncomfortable feeling that I met him a long time ago. In fact, I’m fairly certain it was in this very hospital.

  “Bryce?” I ask in a very small voice.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” he says as if he’s waiting for me to ask him a question.

  I don’t know what to say. The last time I saw him I yelled all of my frustration at him. Actually, I abused the hell out of him. I haven’t changed my mind about my sister’s chosen lifestyle—or about Doms—but I can’t deny that Bryce has gone above and beyond when it comes to looking out for a virtual stranger.

  “Thank you for calling an ambulance.”

  “Try and
get some rest, sweetheart. The doctors are talking about releasing you today.”

  “Today?” I ask as my heart starts to pound painfully. I’m not frightened. I’m not. I can go home, and I’ll remember the rules, and I’ll do what John expects, and I’ll stay out of trouble, and I’ll…I’ll… Shit, how the fuck am I going to do all of that when I can’t even open my eyes?

  “Breathe, Karly,” Bryce says in a voice that is both gentle and bossy. “You’re not going back there. You’re staying with us. We have plenty of room.”

  I want to shake my head, but that damn headache is making itself known again. “I can…I can stay with Casey. She’ll take care of me.”

  “That’s the point,” Bryce says, his warm fingers touching my arm gently. “Casey has been staying at my place since she moved out of yours.”

  “She’s your submissive?” I ask as a myriad of emotions plow through me. I don’t want my sister living that lifestyle, but a part of me is relieved that if she is involved, that it’s at least with a man like Bryce. I don’t know him very well, of course, but at least I’m not frightened of him.

  “No,” Bryce says with what I imagine is a smile on his face. “Casey is currently single—just our roommate—but I think Chris might have something to say about that in the near future.”

  “Chris the Dom? A man who’s going to beat the hell out of her because it’s what he wants to do, and she’s going to let him?”

  “Karly, Chris is a close friend of mine. He would never do anything to hurt Casey—not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “But he’ll hurt her,” I say stubbornly.

  “Perhaps,” Bryce concedes, “but only in a way that is mutually acceptable to both of them.”

  “You think what Robert did was mutually acceptable?” My head is so sore and I can feel tears welling behind my swollen eyes. I don’t want to have this argument, but my sister’s life could very well be at stake.

  “No, what Robert did to Casey was as selfish and as cowardly as what your husband did to you.”