Take Me (The Submission Games Book 2)

by Tamara Mataya

  Without another word, I flounced toward Daddy’s office, not wanting him to catch us together and see the truth in our eyes.

  My new bodyguard and I were made for each other.

  I closed the door behind me.

  Daddy turned toward me from his computer. “What do you need, Tessa?”

  The ginger guy in the hallway. Focus, Tessa. “I want to get a tattoo for my birthday. It’s tomorrow, you know.”

  Daddy laughed. “Yes, I do know. I also know it’s your seventeenth birthday, not eighteenth.”

  “I’ve thought a lot about what I’d get. The crow is my totem animal, and I feel it’s important I represent that connection to my spiritual side.”

  “You want a tattoo of a crow?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to permanently place a picture of the ugly, garbage picking bird on your body?”

  I inclined my head. “On my upper arm. And they’re beautiful and intelligent, not ugly garbage pickers.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you stop to think how that would look for me? Allowing my underage daughter to get a tattoo?”

  “I know, but—”

  “The answer is no.”

  “It’s always about the voters.” I put on a sad expression and looked at the floor. “Can I get a piercing instead?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed after a long moment. “Fine, but not on the face.”

  “Thanks, Daddy!” I grinned and spun toward the door, happy I’d gotten exactly what I’d sought. I hadn’t wanted a tattoo at all, but with Daddy you had to work the angles—ask for a mile and he’d give you an inch.

  “Send Mark in on your way past,” Daddy called after me.

  “Mark?” I played dumb.

  “He’s your new bodyguard.”

  “Ugh, another one? We don’t need babysitters anymore. This is so annoying.” I couldn’t wait for Mark to be the one watching me.

  “Just send him in, please.”

  Now, I shift on the massage table as a particularly tense knot sends a twinge through my calf.

  I had no idea of the things Mark had seen, the loss and devastation battle had put there. He’d been a former soldier then, done his tour in the regular army, and I can’t imagine him ever wanting to go back. What else has he seen since then? Seven years is a lot of time to pack in a lot of hurt.

  He’d told me once that going back would kill him.

  So what happened to his leg? Why are there more scars decorating his skin? Something tells me it wasn’t anything as simple as a car accident, though it’s unlikely he saw zero action.

  My skin is suddenly too sensitive. My lips tingle remembering the way he kissed me last night. The way he looked at me like we’d never been apart. Well, we have and it was because of him.

  He’s the one who bailed, not me. I may have been younger, but I was in it for the long haul. I’d have asked him to marry me and meant it, even back then.

  “Want to come have dinner with Darko and me on Friday?”

  I swallow hard to budge the lump in my throat. “I can’t, I’ve got—”

  “Things to do for The Games. Workaholic.”

  “Hey, some of us can’t sit around making pretty words and playing with our pretty boys all day.”

  “It’s a shame. I’m telling you, there’d be no wars if more people were having the sex I’m having.”

  I chuckle into the face towel. She’s changed so much in such a short amount of time.

  I should go to dinner with her, but watching a couple so in love and in tune would be like twisting a knife in my guts—not conducive to eating. I’ve got to stop thinking about Mark. I’m not the same person I was when we were together; in many ways our love was a lifetime ago.

  Even the way we made love was different back then.

  The other night may have been the hottest vanilla sex of my life, but it’s still just vanilla. I need more now, need something he won’t give to me.

  Not that it matters—he was clearly only trying to clear his conscience with a pity fuck or a one last hurrah to get it out of his system then piss off again guilt-free.

  How could he have loved me at all if he was able to leave me the way he had?

  It took a long time to heal from the pain of his desertion, but I refused to let my heart be his casualty.

  Damn it, he’s still got power over me, though. One look and I was plunged under the surface of want, unable to breathe without his hands on my body. I need to make it so I don’t want him anymore.

  Pain is easy to endure. But how the hell do I heal desire?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mark

  If the expensive town car idling in front of my apartment building wasn’t enough of a clue, the three heavies that pile out of it and encourage me inside are a raging indicator that the Governor wants a word with me. It’s cute that he thinks he needs to intimidate me into complying. Really, his resources are better than mine, and I care about Tessa’s safety every bit as much as he does—maybe more, so I get in the car without a fuss. “Another fancy car? What will the taxpayers think?”

  “Mark. How are things?”

  The car takes off before I can reply to Governor Winters. “Fine. Just picking up some groceries.” I heft the reusable bag higher then set it on the floor. “What do you need?”

  His jaw tightens. “Progress.”

  “I sent my report.”

  “I received a document saying you met with Tessa and she seems fine and that you’re finished working for me. Unacceptable. It’s not enough. You had a very specific job to do and I require an actual update.”

  His frustration is a soothing balm I suck in and try to hold onto to keep calm. This man is the reason I was torn away from Tessa and then torn to shreds overseas—physically and emotionally—a second time. Having power over him, even a small amount, pleases me more than I can say.

  It must show on my face.

  “You think this is funny?” he snarls, contained mask slipping for a moment before he gathers his composure.

  “Not funny, per se.” I’m definitely enjoying this too much.

  He snaps his fingers at one of the guys on the opposite seat who hands him a briefcase.

  The Governor’s fingers tremble on the latches. “You have no idea what we’re dealing with. It’s time I showed you. Then we’ll see how funny you think this is.”

  He tosses a stack of photos at me and my world stops.

  If I could talk, I’d demand he pull over so I could vomit.

  As it is, I silently swallow back the bile and horror and clutch the photos closer when all I want to do is un-see them. She looks dead. There’s so much blood on the floor, so much bright red scarring the white tiles around her body—thinner than I’ve ever seen her.

  Worse than the glazed look in her eyes is the peaceful smile on her face.

  “When was this?”

  He waits until I look up. “When she was nineteen.”

  Just after I left.

  Christ, no wonder Sloane wanted to kill me when I walked into Darko’s store. Sloane said she was the one who found Tessa when...she was too young to see anything like this. Hell, a stranger should ever walk in and find anyone like this, never mind a loved one. Nausea slithers through my gut and works its way up my throat. I swallow hard, hating myself for hurting Tessa this goddamn deeply. No amount of words could ever fix what I did, how I made her felt.

  I’m a piece of shit.

  Knowing Tessa did this and seeing graphic photo after photo are two different things. But how... A dangerous calm settles on me as a heavy blanket of anger takes over. “Your daughter was bleeding out on the floor and you took pictures?” I might kill this man.

  “These are still shots from a security camera footage I pulled off later. Needless to say, after you, we had to keep a closer eye on the girls.”

  “You had people going over film of them in their bathrooms?”

  He looks scandalized. “I was
n’t going to do it myself.”

  “That’s sick.”

  “That’s life,” he snaps. “I kept her alive. You almost killed her.”

  I had no idea she loved me that much. Too much. It’s unhealthy, but I should have seen it. Maybe my ego got in the way, eclipsing the truth of the situation, but I truly thought we’d worked through her issues together and she was stronger and healthier. When we were together she seemed happy. If I hadn’t left, been forced to leave... “And why was that? Why was it that I left, sir? Because if it had been up to me, I never would have.”

  “It may have ended worse if I hadn’t gotten involved.” The Governor straightens his tie. “The only mistake I made was trusting you with my daughter. You needed to be sent away for her own good. Look what happened to her when you left. Imagine when you’d have broken up with her yourself, how much worse it would have been. I should have sent you away sooner, perhaps she wouldn’t have become so attached to you.”

  He’s assuming I’d have ever broken up with Tessa, but I saw forever in her eyes. Part of me still...

  He sniffs. “We can’t rewrite history even if we’re doomed to repeat it. She’s in trouble again now, isn’t she?”

  I scratch at my stubble, thrown off for a moment while I truly ponder his question. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”

  “Can you afford to take that chance after having seen these pictures?”

  No. Tessa looks so happy to be dying, like it’s a tremendous relief despite how much it must have physically hurt. What if she’s not as okay as she seemed? The bruises she left on my collarbone gently throb, filling me with uncertainty. I haven’t truly seen the club or the people she’s involved with now. We didn’t talk much at her apartment.

  Not knowing for certain will kill me, drag at my mind until I can think of nothing else. How many people have to get hurt because of me? Guilt and panic close in on me, but I fight it, unable to afford for The Governor to think me weak and prevent me seeing this through.

  He proved he had the power to do pretty much whatever the fuck he wants seven years ago.

  Bitterness rises. How differently might things have turned out if he’d stayed out of things? “Why don’t you just grab her like you just did to me? Get her out of there yourself and take her here for a friendly little chat?” He looks down for a fraction of a second, long enough for the truth to crash into the car. “Oh, I get it. You could never be the bad guy, could you, Governor? Always had someone else come in to do your dirty work so the girls wouldn’t know exactly how much of a bastard you are.”

  His gaze slides to mine again. “Bastards get things done, don’t they?”

  “I guess they do.”

  The car pulls up to my apartment again.

  He grabs my arm. “Can I trust you to see this through?”

  I nod and scramble from the car.

  I manage to make it to my bathroom before being violently ill.

  SENSORY DEPRIVATION helps stave off the panic.

  Hot, humid air forces me to think of my breathing, so I head to the shower, crank the tap, and get inside. Slow breaths in and out, warming my lungs.

  The heat helps relax my muscles a bit, but nothing gets the pictures out of my mind, and soon my nerves are so raw it feels like the shower’s spewing broken glass onto my skin instead of drops of water. I get out, wrap a towel around myself, and head for the living room, wishing I still smoked.

  The first time I saw combat was hard. You think you know what you’re in for after the training, after hearing stories, but it’s not the same as going into a mission with fear in your belly and a gun in your hands. Bad decisions snarl for your attention through the fear, and if you focus on anything but the world in front of you, people die.

  I saw too much, did too much, but I scraped through in one piece. Swore I’d never go back. When I went to work for Tessa’s family, thinking it was the cushy job I’d always hoped for—it was certainly more money than I’d ever imagined having—I thanked God for the opportunity of a lifetime. It was so easy after what I’d seen it was almost laughable that I was getting paid to do it. Hang out in mansions, see politicians and some celebrities up close. Only look after two girls—and not even by myself.

  Then I fell in love with the woman I was supposed to be protecting.

  I had two jobs: Keep her safe and keep my hands to myself. That was made clear to me on my first day.

  I failed at doing both. When her father found out, I was out on my ass without the chance to say goodbye. Not regular army this time—Mr. Winters had given me a glowing recommendation and pulled some strings to ensure I saw action I’d never dreamed of seeing.

  A week later I was back in training, this time off to Fort Bragg for my SFAS.

  After it was made clear to me I’d never see Tessa again, I threw myself into being a soldier. She was better off without an asshole like me; soon I wanted to go back and see action. I made my peace with taking a bullet or three.

  Maybe I was trying to kill myself without pulling the trigger, I don’t know.

  But somehow I survived—even some things I shouldn’t have. Bastards like me don’t have guardian angels, but a few near-misses made me feel invincible.

  That changed when I made it into the Green Berets, when I gained brothers—the first family I’d ever really had other than Tessa. I had to keep them alive and I couldn’t do that with a bullet in my skull. For the first time in a long time, I wanted to live.

  Not all my brothers made it back home. Maybe if I’d fought harder, moved faster, more of us would have made it.

  Maybe my leg wouldn’t have been blown apart either.

  Benny was one of the best guys I’d ever known. Any of the guys got up in each other’s faces—needing to blow off steam or to prove something—he’d step right in between them and diffuse the situation with that goofy fucking grin of his and some stupid joke that would always make us laugh.

  The IED took half his face off. That’s something that never disappears from your memory, no matter how hard you try to forget it.

  I crash to the couch on shaky legs, overcome by the memories of the attack I’ve managed to block out of my mind, but they’re soon overtaken by the grisly images of Tessa bleeding out on the bathroom floor. That horror will never fade.

  And to know that Tessa almost died because of me?

  She’s okay. You saw her, felt her, tasted her the other day. She’s real and alive and strong.

  Maybe. She’s also a consummate actor, able to fake being perfectly fine. She’ll tell you she’s okay and you’ll believe her. I was too caught up in the flurries of my own emotions to pay closer attention to her beyond the way her body was responding to mine.

  When I saw her last, the fair thing to do was tell her Dad she’s fine and cut myself from her life, giving her the last word—final say.

  Seeing those photos changes everything. If this club is a dangerous place where she’s being hurt by people, there’s no way I’m walking away until I’m damn sure she’s safe.

  Her and Sloane both need me right now.

  I need to go deeper.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tessa

  In our world, everyone has a file. We know everything about our members to keep them happy and safe—and give them a more enjoyable experience. Most of the information is garnered in the initial intake forms they fill out—along with a non-disclosure agreement—when they join The Underground. Anyone who doesn’t pass the medical exam and the criminal background check won’t even see our forms.

  Everything is covered. Sexual quirks, preferences, aversions. Who they are, where they’ve been. Where they’re going. It keeps everything in order and everyone safe. Reiley’s ship is airtight and I do all I can to keep it that way.

  I click through the files on the computer, handwriting notes about the members, closing files when I eliminate possibilities as contenders for the Submission Games.

  The day he put me in charge of the Games, I was
honored and freaked the fuck out. The man didn’t give me my life back, but he offered me a new one. The cost was hard work and a lot of soul-searching. Reiley Gunn has the innate ability to cut through to the heart of the issue, seeing the person you are beneath the mask and showing you how to live as authentically as possible—if you’re willing to put the work in.

  But god knows, it’s not easy.

  About two months after I’d begun working for him, admin mostly, he overheard me speaking to my father on a humiliating phone call that still makes me cringe to think of. I’d stood there taking Daddy’s berating, unable to speak against the onslaught of disapproval and disappointment he was shouting at me.

  I hadn’t realized Reiley had heard every word until he sighed from behind me. I hung up and burst into tears, mortified at what my father had said and over the fact my new boss had overheard. Reiley gently took the phone from my hands, wiped the tears from my face, led me to the club, and made me a doormat.

  He made me lie on the floor so people could wipe their feet on me as they entered the club. I was horrified, and couldn’t believe he was adding to the shitty day I was having, but then he said, ‘If you’re going to let your family treat you like a doormat, I will make you into one, but I believe you are so much more. Lie there and think about that. Don’t let others determine your value or self-worth or they will walk all over you. Be more than someone else’s shitty opinion of you.’

  That was the moment I realized Reiley Gunn actually gave a shit about me as a person.

  It was also the moment I realized I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body. I lay there anyways as I was told, marinating in the lesson because it was a goddamn good one I needed to learn until he came back and offered me his hand.

  When I took it and stood up, I was stronger than I’d ever been in my life—up until that point.