by Kaliana Cole
He fought the need to pull her to him and absorb her pain, knowing it would only hurt her more. He rose, pulling her panties up and slipping the shirt back on her, trying to find words to say. In the end he said nothing, just guided her to the lounge. He picked up the phone and called Aaron Kinsley’s home number.
He was able to catch Liberty Springs’ GP before he left for his Sunday morning round of golf. He briefed Doc on Bailey’s injuries and asked him to come and check her out. Jory wouldn’t be satisfied until he got a professional opinion. The doctor promised to be there within fifteen minutes.
He walked back to the lounge where Bailey was trying to get comfortable. He wanted to hold her so badly, his chest physically ached with the need to feel her head against it, but they needed to talk. “What happened with Mark?”
“The divorce came through six months ago.”
“And Nathan?”
“Mark got full custody. The bastard set me up and had me declared an unfit mother.” He could hear the bitterness behind that, and his heart went out to her, but now wasn’t the time to chase it.
“How did this happen? They shouldn’t have let you out of that hospital. Do the police know where you are?” He saw the question on her face. “There is no way you could have reached to put cream on your back, baby. Someone else put it there.”
“The police have a description of him, but they didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. I’ve been going to this club, trying to find the real me. I thought I could find a Dom to help me find that.”
“This isn’t the work of a Dom, Bailey. This man was a sadist, pure and simple. You should have called me. I could have recommended a safe club if you wanted to explore some possibilities.” He shook his head.
“Jory! No one did this to me specifically. Have you heard about the attacks on the clubs in Denver?”
“Oh, Christ! The ram-raider? You were there, baby?” His hand stroked over her temple, wishing he could take all her pain away. “What happened?”
“I was in the stocks. We’d just started a scene, and there was a big explosion. Some madman drove his truck right through the warehouse wall, knocking out the mezzanine level supports and driving away. I was stuck in the stocks beneath a pile of rubble for seven hours.”
“With clamps and a ball gag on?”
Bailey nodded, the look in her indigo eyes haunted. “And a plug. It didn’t do any damage, but I felt embarrassed. Fuck, Jory. I felt so humiliated when that rescue squad pulled me out. I’d torn my nails out trying to escape, but all I was worried about was the plug.”
Jory stroked her hair, the only part of her he could touch and know he wasn’t hurting her. Leaving clamps on for an extended period of time could be irreversibly damaging. Tissue necrosis was a very real possibility. He couldn’t imagine her shame of being found with a plug in her ass. It was trivial in the grand scope of what had happened, but it had scarred her deeply. “Oh, baby. I wish I could take it all away for you.”
“I did it for you.” He nearly missed the soft admission. He was certain his ears were playing tricks on him.
“How was this for me?” Bailey’s mind had always been quirky, but this promised to be more convoluted than usual.
“You told me that I should find someone my own age, someone who could cater to my vanilla needs, that you were too old and too dark for me.
“I did that, Jory, but it wasn’t me. I always wanted you, but I knew I couldn’t come back until I knew I could take what you like to dish out. I just got a little more than I bargained for going to the clubs in search of that.”
Jory was speechless. He remembered that conversation as if it had been yesterday instead of ten years ago. He had thought Bailey was drunk. She had propositioned him and sworn her undying love. He had done the most difficult thing of his life and turned her sweet ass down. Told her he liked women, not little girls playing dress-up. She may have been twenty, but she’d still had a rose-tinted view of the world. He’d told her bluntly that what he wanted she wasn’t capable of giving and sent her on her way, tears and all. Apparently, she hadn’t been as intoxicated as he’d hoped.
He heard the doctor’s car approaching. “This conversation is only postponed, Bailey. Don’t think it’s over.” He rose and went to let Doc in.
Aaron Kinsley was fast and efficient. Jory could see the anger pinching his round face as he came back to the kitchen where he had retreated to give Bailey some privacy. The coffee tasted bitter against his tongue.
“Bailey is in the shower. I’ve given her some pretty strong painkillers, and she will probably go straight to sleep afterwards. I don’t know how she is walking, Jory. Let alone how she drove seven hours to get here from Denver. She is lucky. Two people were killed in the same attack. The man responsible for that needs to be stuck in front of a firing squad and put down like the deranged animal he is. I’d volunteer to pull the trigger.” Aaron put his hand out for the coffee Jory poured.
“Physically, she will heal within a week or two. The human body is remarkably resilient, but psychologically she should be a mess. She is too calm at the moment. I don’t know if it has actually hit home or not. I know you’ve always been her guardian angel, but it is going to be a long, tough haul this time.”
“Tell me what has got to be done and I’ll do it.” That was the simple truth.
The pile of creams and pills was staggering.
“This one’s for the burns. That one is for the abrasions, and the other is a topical painkiller and antibiotic for the more intimate damage. She can’t apply them herself because of the state of her hands. She has ripped two nails clean out of the bed and nearly skinned her wrists trying to escape.” He picked up a notepad and began scrawling. “She should be in hospital, but Bailey hasn’t become any less stubborn since she was a kid. She said she’s not moving from here.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of holidays owing.” Jory’s calm voice did not betray the roiling anger he felt. That someone could mount an assault on innocent people, not caring of the consequence, was beyond him. That Bailey had gotten caught up in it brought an icy rage like none he’d ever felt.
“I’m going to call Andy and get him to follow up on the preliminary investigation. We have some contacts the city police wouldn’t have.”
“She said she saw him, Jory. Saw him clearly. She doesn’t think the police believe her.”
Jory nodded. If Bailey said she saw the man, he believed her. He would do everything he could to convince the authorities for her. “Thank you, Aaron.”
“You’re welcome. Make sure you ring me if there are any problems. I want to see Bailey in ten days, anyway. Look after her, Jory.”
Doc Kinsley drained his cup and left.
Jory went to the downstairs bath, cracking the door far enough to talk to Bailey. “Where is your stuff? I’ll get it for you.”
“My car is in the garage. I’ve only got two bags.”
He retrieved the bags from the battered old Mustang. The rough pink paint job looked exactly like what it was, applied with a two-dollar can. Powder blue showed through underneath. He still remembered when Bailey had painted the damn thing. She’d been seventeen and hormonal to the point of psychotic. Someone had told her it was about time she started acting like a girl instead of driving like a hoodlum, so she’d painted the old thing pink and said “There, it don’t get any girlier than that.”
He wanted to have that Bailey back. At the moment she was traumatized and injured, but she was a fighter. It wouldn’t take her too long to bounce back. He just hoped to hell he could deal with her when she did.
He had turned her away once, but she was no longer a green girl building glass castles in the sky. All her illusions had been stripped away, and Jory had to face facts. He loved Bailey Verne with his whole heart. She’d stolen it when she’d been a pigtailed little hoyden, and if she put in a bid for his body now, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to tell her no.
He just hoped they could
both survive the consequences.
Chapter 2
“Last time, baby girl.” Jory entered the bathroom when he heard her rise from the bath.
“I’m not a baby, Jory.”
“I know, Bailey. Believe me, I know. It just makes doing this a hell of a lot easier if I think of you that way.” For ten days he had treated her wounds and changed dressings. Had handed her pills and stood over her until the stubborn wretch swallowed them. The first week hadn’t been too hard. She had been so damn broken in body and spirit his deep empathy had cancelled out all other thoughts.
Her body had healed, only pink marks remained from the worst injuries, and her left nipple was the solitary area that was still sore to touch. Her nails were beginning to regrow, and fresh pink skin covered her wrists beneath the bandages. The stiffness had worked from her body, aided by anti-inflammatories and antibiotics, as well as the occasional sleeping tablet. Today the doctor would hopefully say that her healing hands did not require bandaging anymore.
Bailey’s spirit had returned with a vengeance. She was teasing him mercilessly every chance she got, and for the last three days, applying the antibiotic cream had given her ample fodder. Jory wished her hands were up to accomplishing the task herself, but until the bandages were allowed off, it was a task he had to endure.
“Hands on the sink. Eyes shut. Foot on the stool. You know the drill.” Jory squeezed the cream onto his gloved hand.
He tried not to pay her any attention as she gripped the hand basin and leaned forward, presenting her nicely plump ass with an unnecessary wiggle. Her legs were certainly spread wider than they needed to be, and those eyes weren’t shut either. Even her thick, ebony lashes were not enough to hide the sliver of indigo peeking out beneath. He knew damn well she watched him in the mirror. If he hadn’t seen that ass colored black, blue, and red, he would have put a few handprints of his own on it by now.
Bailey Verne wasn’t happy unless she was tugging the lion’s tail.
He was businesslike as he applied the cream. The coldness had made her squirm, but she held still. He couldn’t resist running his hand over the plump curve as he turned to get the other cream. He ignored the small smile that curved her full lips. The little monster knew he was digging deep. “That’s the last time, brat. The Doc should give you the all clear today. There is not much wrong with you if you can wiggle your ass like that. Turn around and let me put this cream on.”
Jory shook his head as she complied. It was warm and steamy in the bathroom where she had just gotten out of a hot shower, and her nipples were puckered like it was forty below. He gave her a stern look, but all Bailey did was smile and shrug, making those hard-pointed breasts bob distractingly.
“Not much wrong with those either.” He dabbed the cream on the engorged nipple, noticing the damage had all but healed. He stuck a nursing pad over it, the cotton square sticking to the cream. “Put a bra on before you poke somebody’s eye out, Bailey. You’ll have to dig some of your clothes out today. We have to go to town, and my shirts aren’t exactly appropriate.”
Since she had gotten here, she had worn nothing but his long shirts and a pair of panties. Even when she had ventured out onto the deck she hadn’t dressed. Not that it mattered. The cabin was pretty isolated and backed on to forestry. The deck sat over the river, and he could fish straight from the porch. The local wildlife would have had a good look at her bare legs, but that was all.
“Anything else?” Her eyebrows rose knowingly.
He didn’t even know how long he had been standing there gawking. He turned on his heel, hoping she would put his color down to the heat. “Get some clothes on, wench.”
He didn’t imagine the chuckle that followed him.
* * * *
“Are you sure we need all these groceries?” Jory loaded them into the back of the Jeep.
“We do. Your cooking is edible, Jory, but that is all it has to recommend it. You’ve got that big flash kitchen, and I doubt you have ever cooked anything in that oven.” Bailey deliberately picked up a bag and put it in the Jeep when he frowned to warn her off. “The doc said I’m fine, and that scowl doesn’t scare me”
“It should.”
Bailey only laughed and chucked him under the chin. He heard a chuckle from across the car park and saw Brody Marshall loading his own bags with a grin from ear to ear as he watched the drama playing out. There went Jory’s reputation up in flames.
Andy pulled up next to him in the cruiser. “Jory, Bailey.” He nodded. “I’ve been trying to track you down. You are looking much better, Bailey.” He had gone to see them both the first day after Jory’s call. “There have been no further developments in your case officially, but the Keenans have tracked down a lead through the club network. They think it was a guy they have been refusing membership for some time.”
“He did this because he wasn’t allowed in a fucking club?”
“I’m sorry, Bailey. If it was up to me, I would be hunting him down like a dog. I’m doing everything I can without stepping on toes.”
Jory stepped up and put an arm around Bailey. She was getting riled, and Andy wasn’t a fair target. “We understand. Just let us know if you get anything else. I’m giving Bailey your personal number before I go back to work next week, just in case she has any hassles.”
“That’s fine. But speaking of hassles, I’ve ended up with a shadow by the name of Missy. The same one the Marshalls cut loose last month. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“No, the name doesn’t ring a bell.” Jory knew his face was a picture of innocence. “You could always sic Marley on her.”
Bailey laughed. “Don’t tell me she is still panting over you. I thought she would have outgrown schoolgirl crushes by now.” Bailey had gone through school with Marley.
“I thought you would have, too.” Andy winked and got back in the squad car.
“Ouch!” Jory grinned. “Marley is a bit of a sore spot these days for Andy.”
“You don’t say.”
Bailey looked a bit shocked at Andy’s taunt. He had always looked on indulgently as she had tried to win Jory over. Jory knew Andy enjoyed watching him squirm. They all had their weak spots, and Marley Richards was Andy’s.
His was leaning against him like she meant to melt into his body. He realized his thumb was playing along her ribcage where he still held her. He coughed and dropped his hand, but her grin nearly matched the idiot Marshall who was taking his sweet time loading his bags.
Word was going to be all over town in a matter of minutes. The rumors of his unattached status’s demise would be flying thick and fast. He tried to gather a remnant of self-respect by holding her door and giving plenty of weight to his stony gaze, trying to intimidate her into obeying. Bailey did get in the car, but sticking her pink little tongue out at him definitely ruined the desired effect. Brody was all but rolling around on the ground in delighted mirth.
Jory got in the car before anyone else turned up to watch his downfall.
* * * *
Bailey’s hands moved with practiced speed, chopping, dicing, and slicing. Jory thieved a slice of bell pepper from the board and munched while he watched. “That’s a lot of trouble to go to when I can buy spaghetti sauce in a jar.”
“You will taste the difference, I guarantee it.” Bailey held in a smile. He had been watching her like he expected her to chop off one of her fingers any moment. She kept waiting for him to offer her a plastic knife just to be on the safe side. His concern was sweet but stifling. He had always looked out for her, but not to this ridiculous extent.
“What’s the green stuff?”
“Fresh basil and oregano. You should have these growing in a pot on the deck.” She laughed when Jory sniffed them suspiciously.
“Smells like pizza.” He was looking at the herbs as if they might poison him. “Mine come in a shaker bottle.”
“Dried doesn’t have the same flavor.” She assured him. “If you wa
nt to be useful, start tearing the leaves off and put them on the board.” She went rummaging through the numerous cupboards of the large kitchen.
“What are you looking for?”
“A heavy saucepan.” He came around the bench into the kitchen proper, towering over her as he reached up and retrieved a pot from the ladder rack suspended from the high ceiling. “I didn’t even see those.” She wiped a finger over it, checking for dust. There wasn’t a trace. “When did your cleaner come through?” No one except Andy had come to the cabin in the time she had been there.
“The other morning while we were gone.” He retreated to the safety of the other side of the bench and started attacking the herbs.
“I don’t know why you get somebody in. Everything is always in its place with you.” His very tidiness made a woman want to muss him up. Well it made Bailey, anyway. She just couldn’t see the side of him that made other women fear him and scurry to do his bidding.
“Everything except you,” he muttered. Bailey chose to ignore him. “I don’t dust, and I don’t do bathrooms. That is all Rhonda does when she comes out. That and polishes the floors. When I tried that I had polish from one end of the room to the other in great big blobs. She asked me not to do that anymore.”
“You’re very domestic.” Bailey was quite surprised. Most men she had come across were useless in the cleaning department. Some could cook a lot better than Jory, but she had never known one to keep his home as spotless.
“I’ve lived by myself for over twenty-five years, Bailey. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”
“If you’d learned how to cook properly, you wouldn’t be so damn skinny.” She couldn’t resist goading him a little. He wasn’t skinny at all. He had one of those big, raw-boned frames—tall, lean, and hungry-looking. “Bet I could count your ribs.”