Bound to be Tempted: Emergence, Book 4

by Becca Jameson

  “Whatever it is, you need to tell us. Would you like me to call in a female officer?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She sucked in a breath.

  Brantly waited patiently. Finally, he spoke again. “Is someone hurting you? Do you know who would have left this note?”

  She shook her head again. “No. Not a clue. And the creepy idea I have is so far-fetched it will sound ludicrous.”

  “Go ahead. Anything you can add will help.”

  “When I was fifteen, I was attacked by three men in an alley. It was a hate crime. I’m—I’m bisexual.” She swallowed through the admission. She’d never told anyone that outright.

  Brantly didn’t flinch. “Well, that’s not a crime.” He smiled and leaned forward. “Did the cops find the men who did that to you?”

  “No. I’m not sure what ever happened.” She lifted her gaze. “My parents… They…um…weren’t particularly supportive. They moved me to another town and never mentioned the incident again.”

  He frowned. “Were they trying to help you move on?”

  The sound she emitted was unrecognizable to her ears, like a deep, sardonic chuckle that made her shiver. “Hardly.” She lifted her gaze to the officer. “They weren’t supportive of my lifestyle. They were more likely to have hired the thugs themselves than track them down to exact justice.”

  The second the words left her mouth, she gasped.

  Brantly lifted an eyebrow. “Do you believe that?”

  She inhaled sharply. “No. God, I hope not. Surely they aren’t that cruel. I’d been at a rave with my girlfriend. We’d been…making out, dancing, flirting. I assume someone at the rave followed us and took it upon themselves to make sure we knew they didn’t approve of our choices.”

  Brantly paused for several seconds, thinking, his brow furrowed. “And you’ve never had another problem until now?”

  “No. Never.” And then she shook her head. “Although I have felt like someone was following me for the last several weeks. I assumed I was being paranoid.”

  “Even after receiving that first note?”

  She glanced at her lap, wringing her fingers together. “I guess I was in denial. I’ve had…some life changes lately. I tend to get paranoid when I alter my routine. I hoped it was a case of mistaken identity or something. I didn’t figure there was anything you could have done about it after I’d opened the envelope and touched the paper myself. Stupid, really. I should have called nine-one-one.”

  Brantly leaned on his elbows. “You could have. But you’re right about one thing. It’s damn difficult to track down someone who leaves you a note.” He hesitated. “Do you live with another woman?”

  She shook her head for the millionth time. “No. In fact, the irony is that, for the first time, I’ve been staying with a man. That’s when this all started.”

  Brantly drummed his fingers on the desk. “What do you think this asshole means when he says you like pain?”

  Margaret swallowed and met the officer’s gaze head-on. She needed to be totally upfront with him. “I’m a member of a BDSM club. If that person is following me, they would know that.”

  Brantly nodded. “Okay.” He didn’t judge her. Nothing on his face indicated she was saying anything out of the ordinary. Thank God. “Well, I think I have all I can go on for now.” He handed her a card. “I’m going to contact the station that handled your case twelve years ago and see what kind of information they gathered at the time. Do you think you could ask your parents for more details? Maybe they knew things they didn’t tell you at the time. You were so young.”

  Margaret stared at him. “Maybe,” she mumbled. “I’ll try.” She couldn’t imagine bringing up that can of worms with her parents, but then again, she had a shit ton of baggage to clear with them. Maybe this was the nudge she needed to confront them once and for all, for better or for worse.

  Brantly stood. “Call me if you come up with even the tiniest piece of information that might help. And I’ll be in touch with you as soon as we process the fingerprints. But I’ll warn you, the chances of finding a print on that paper is slim.”

  She nodded as she stood also. Her legs felt like lead. “Okay. Thank you. I realize it’s a long shot, but I also knew I needed to file a report.”

  “You’re absolutely right. Always call us. That’s what we’re here for.” He rounded the desk and opened the door. “No detail is too small. Unfortunately there isn’t a lot we can do without more information. But if I were you, I would take care to avoid being alone. Don’t go anywhere at night by yourself. Maybe someone at work could walk you to and from your car?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” No way in hell was she going anywhere alone now. And that pissed her off more than anything. She hated having to look over her shoulder all the time. She hated that her irrational fear was perhaps not so irrational. She hated to think someone was indeed following her and knew where she went at all times.

  Fuck. Her fingers shook as she left the station and headed to the parking lot. Officer Brantly saw her to her car and shut the door for her.

  She dropped the keys as she lifted them to put them in the ignition. After she picked them up from the floorboard, she locked the doors and sat for a few minutes, trying to gather the strength to drive.

  She had to get back to work. She needed to think. What the hell was Carlton going to say? He was going to kill her for not calling him immediately.

  Or else, keep this to yourself for now. There was no need to tell him, really. There wasn’t a thing he could do but worry. And he already did enough of that. There was also no reason to burden him with her problem when he didn’t plan to stick around in her life more than one more week.

  God, how she wanted him to keep her. With each passing day she grew more attached to him. She secretly hoped she could slowly convince him that he was the Dom for her and not set her free to find someone else. As paranoid as Carlton was, finding out she had a stalker wouldn’t help her case. He’d probably wash his hands of her and not look back.

  Nope. She would keep this to herself. On the off chance Officer Brantly called with any details, she would discreetly handle it when she was alone. Resolved, she headed back to the office to finish the day.

  Carlton sat in his usual pew and stared at the row of candles flickering to his left. He imagined each one reaching toward the heavens, paying homage to whomever each was intended, including his.

  When his eyes began to play tricks on him from looking at the flickering lights for so long, he switched his gaze to the front of the church.

  Please, Karen. Help me do the right thing. It’s been so long. I know you would be disappointed in me for carrying a torch for you for so many years. I know this isn’t what you would want for me.

  But it’s hard. I’m scared. You hurt me so badly. I never want to feel that sort of pain again.

  Maggie. She’s so much like you, and yet so different at the same time. I wonder if you would like her if you met her. She’s smart and feisty and…alive. So alive. Vibrant. She doesn’t take risks like you.

  He smiled. He felt a calm wash over him for the first time in years. Forever. He’d never felt this relaxed when visiting Karen.

  Maggie isn’t you. She’s her own person. I’m not sure why I ever thought she was so similar to you. Even her resemblance is fading as I get to know her better.

  She would kill me if she ever found out what attracted me to her in the first place. Who wants to know that her boyfriend carries a torch for his first girlfriend?

  Boyfriend. He leaned back, smiling. Boyfriend was a term he hadn’t used for twelve years. Never intended to again in this lifetime.

  Until Maggie. God, he wanted her. Could he keep her?

  And, hell, he didn’t know if she would agree. He’d never once told her the idea was even on the table. Until today, he hadn’t entertained th
e thought himself. How could he have told her?

  I’m done coming here, Karen. I need to move on. I’m at peace finally. And I know that would make you smile. I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry for not being there that night. I’m sorry for not insisting you stop taking risks. I’m sorry you left me here to fend for myself in this life. But most of all, I’m sorry for spending so many years with regret and anger toward myself and you.

  Carlton stood, feeling stronger than he had in years.

  Goodbye, Karen. Rest in peace.

  He left the chapel, his chin up, a renewed sense of life following him to his car.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Saturday morning, they were finishing breakfast when she announced she needed to get her nails done. It had been over a month since she’d been into the city to get a manicure. She was past due.

  “Sure, baby. I’ll take you. What time do you want to go?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Carlton, I don’t need you to take me to the salon. I can get there on my own.” Inside, she knew she needed him with her. Outside, she couldn’t just readily agree or he’d be suspicious. They’d had this argument too many times.

  Besides, she wanted to know what his motives were. He knew nothing about her being followed—stalked really. So why the hell did he have such a fetish about her driving?

  “I don’t mind.” He stuffed dishes in the dishwasher while she kneeled on the floor. Her submissive mode had gone out the window with his weird, quirky need to escort her.

  “I’m sure you don’t. You’ve made that abundantly clear. But why on earth would you want to go sit and wait for me to get my nails done?” She stood. In fact, she put her hands on her hips.

  “I like being with you.” He smiled over his shoulder. But there was more to it, and she intended to find out now.

  Perhaps she’d read him wrong, and he really was a jealous boyfriend. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t trust me?”

  “What?” He made a mock-crazy expression that wasn’t sincere. “That’s absurd. Of course I trust you. Why wouldn’t I trust you?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me. You obviously hate me driving anywhere. Have I done anything to give you the sense that I’m a bad driver, or are you afraid I’m too weak to fend off anyone who might try to pick me up at the salon, or work, or any other place I go?” She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated.

  “Of course not. That’s ludicrous. I promise I have no latent jealousy issues. I trust you implicitly.”

  “Then it’s my driving.” She stepped toward him.

  “Nope.”

  “What then? Carlton, stop fucking loading the dishwasher, turn around, look me in the eye and tell me why the hell you feel the need to accompany me everywhere I go.” She stopped inches from his back, knowing she had goaded him by cussing.

  He froze for a moment and then slowly turned toward her, drying his hands on a towel. He didn’t meet her gaze for a long time. Finally he set the towel on the counter and lifted her face.

  The look he gave her was pained, and totally unexpected. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I do have a reason. And it has nothing to do with anything you’re thinking or could possibly have imagined. I trust you completely, baby. So wipe that thought from your head.”

  She waited for the rest.

  He took a deep breath. “And you’re a fantastic driver. I can’t argue that.”

  “So? Don’t tell me you just like to hang out at nail salons and go shopping, because I won’t buy it.”

  “Not that either.” His shoulders dropped. “Come.” He took her arm and led her to the living room, where he sat on the couch and pulled her down next to him.

  Now she grew worried. What the hell was going on?

  “When I was eighteen, I fell in love with my high school sweetheart. We were inseparable. I thought from the first date she was the love of my life. We were together two years. We went to the same college and spent every waking hour when we weren’t studying hanging out with each other. I would say we were soul mates. At least I thought so at the time. But what did I know? We were young. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run anyway.”

  Margaret released a breath she’d been holding for too long. She took his arm and forced him to look at her. “She broke up with you?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I wish.” He held her gaze, his expression pained once more. “She died in a car crash one week after her twentieth birthday.”

  The breath knocked out of Margaret’s lungs. “Oh. God. Carlton. I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible.” She set her palm on his cheek and held his face.

  It all made so much more sense now. His strange driving quirks.

  “She was a risk taker. Always had been. An adrenaline junkie, her friends called her. Made me crazy all the time. That night she was out with friends while I stayed home with the flu.” He wrung his hands together and then continued, lifting his gaze to hers. “Apparently she decided to race against someone else on some back roads. She lost control on a turn and slammed into a tree.”

  Margaret winced. “Oh God. Honey…” She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, setting her head on his shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, him wrapping his arms around her also and holding her tight.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her neck. “I hate that twelve years later I’m still fighting that demon.”

  “It’s okay. It’s understandable.” She rubbed his back, digging her fingers into his muscles, wishing she could crawl inside him and take the pain away with her touch to his soul. Twelve years. She didn’t miss the irony. It was twelve years ago almost to the day that her life changed irrevocably also.

  “I try to fight my demons and let you have the space you need. It’s unfounded that I get stressed when you’re driving. And you always win. I always let you go.” He pulled her back and met her gaze. “I’m working on it. You’re the first person I’ve met since then that meant so much to me, I can’t stand to have you out of my sight for fear I’ll never see you again.”

  She nodded, fighting tears for his loss and his declaration. Was he coming around then? Maybe there was hope that he wouldn’t let her walk away next week and go on with his life. “That’s why you wig out when I’m late. You’re scared.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ll do my part. I promise. You can’t take me everywhere, but when it’s reasonable, go with me. We’ll work on it together. And I’ll do my best to be sure and call or text when I’m going to be late, so you won’t worry.” She clasped his face with both hands and kissed him.

  “Have I mentioned how awesome you are?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. Then she lifted her hand in front of his face and spread her fingers so her nails dangled in front of his eyes. “Have I mentioned how badly my nails need to be done?” She grinned and gave him a shove. “Let’s go downtown, big guy. I need a lift. There are some really old ladies with blue hair dying to tell you about their bridge club in the waiting room.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t have to go with you. I’ll survive.”

  “Oh no, you don’t. Now you have to go.” She stood and tugged him to standing. “Now I want lunch too, and maybe I’ll wear some cute short dress that makes you drool all over, knowing what I’m not wearing beneath it.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “How can I resist that temptation? Can I choose the dress?” He let her pull him to standing and followed her down the hall.

  “Maybe…”

  Later that night Carlton had to work the front door at Emergence. The hours flew by. It was busy, but he didn’t fail to glance at Maggie every few minutes where she sat perched on a bar stool, chatting with the bartender.

  He moaned when he watched her squirm on the seat. He knew her thighs got stuck to the vinyl after a while since her ass was directly on the seat, her skirt hanging ove
r the side, and hopefully her pussy at least marginally wet with need.

  He always tried to keep her on the edge even when he was working. It made the rest of the night fantastic when he finally got someone to cover for him. Plus he loved to see her squirm, and she looked at him with those sultry bedroom eyes when she reached her limit.

  And one of those times was now. She’d given him her I-can’t-take-much-more-of-this-teasing look several times in the last five minutes. He knew because he’d barely paid attention to the door in that time. His cock was harder than a rock behind his jeans and threatening a revolt if he didn’t release it soon.

  The dress she wore didn’t help matters at all, and he had no one to blame but himself for that. It was red, her favorite color. When she wore it, he could spot her easily anywhere in the room. Of course, so could everyone else. But he didn’t care. No regular would approach her and few guests would either. Everyone knew she was with him by now. And God almighty, she was with him. To deny how he felt about her was ludicrous at this point. Did she feel the same? He thought so. He’d gone over and over her reactions to him in his head. The way she looked at him like he was the only person in the room. The way she trembled beneath his touch. It was more than he deserved, and he needed to come clean with her, tell her how he felt. No way in hell was he going to let her go.

  He stared at her now. The red dress was tight across her breasts, held together with leather lacing that crisscrossed all the way from her belly button to the top, which was barely above her nipples. The bottom was almost not long enough and full, making it easy for him to slip his hand under it and stroke her skin—which he’d done a dozen times throughout the evening, causing the bedroom eyes he was getting from her now.

  One of his employees came to the front and relieved him just as he was about to hunt someone down. He mumbled his thanks and meandered through the crowd until he reached her back. She was laughing at something the bartender said as he wrapped his arms around her middle and kissed her neck.

  “Doesn’t my submissive have the nicest nails tonight?” he asked the bartender, stroking a palm down Maggie’s arm until he held her hand out for inspection.