by Tara Rose
Nash looked confused and angry at the same time, and somewhere in the deep recesses of Angela’s mind she knew she’d crossed a line, but enough was enough. This was too much. Not telling her about whatever he’d found in his basement was one thing. It wasn’t fatal, although she was baffled why she’d been kept out of the loop all this time.
But her not knowing that Brett had been at the club was an entirely different matter. Nash and Ian both knew about the video that Brett had posted of him and Becca. They knew how much shit Brett had put her through. They should have told her that Brett had been at the club the night they’d dripped the wax all over her naked body.
“Angela, calm down. We didn’t know he was there until Tommy called me early the next morning, after you were asleep. He was asking to take pictures of scenes, so Tommy threw him out. No one saw him take any pictures that night, but obviously I want to be completely sure now.”
“Calm down? Calm down? Is it your naked body all over the fucking Internet? Is the entire town now going to be laughing at you? Was your trust violated by Brett?”
“Yes, it was. He was asking to take pictures of scenes he wasn’t part of. He’s been there enough times to know better than to try and pull a stunt like that.”
Angela had trouble taking a full breath. Her chest actually hurt. It occurred to her that if she had a heart attack and died right now, her last words to Nash and Ian would be angry ones, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. It was one thing to talk about trust, but obviously it didn’t work both ways for either of them. Hadn’t they violated her trust twice now?
She tore off the collar around her neck and heard the beads scatter as they hit the pavement, but she no longer cared. She flung the leather at Nash. “You took pictures that night. You both did.”
“Angela…” Carma stared at the remains of the collar lying at Nash’s feet as though Angela had just torn out her heart and thrown it at him. “Your collar…”
“Angela, we took pictures of you, not of someone else. Brett was walking around, asking every Dom who would give him the time of day, if he could take pictures of their scene. That’s hardly the same thing that we did with you.”
“Nash, you don’t get it, do you? You never told me that Brett was there. He posted a video of him fucking another woman, while he and I were still together. You know how devastated I was. You should have told me he was there, and you should have told me it’s possible he’d taken pictures that night.”
Nash punched the Dumpster, and then swore under his breath and rubbed his hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Angela saw Ian pick up the collar and retrieve the beads that hadn’t rolled away. Horrible regret washed over her. She’d just ruined her training collar. The one she’d been so excited and proud to accept from them just over a week ago.
“Angela, I know we didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. We didn’t want to upset you. He’s banned. You will never see him in there again. And when I get my hands on him, I’ll fucking kill him.”
She couldn’t think straight. She heard what Nash was saying, but she was so devastated by everything that she simply had to get it all out or she’d explode. “That won’t change what happened, Nash. It won’t erase the video he posted this morning.”
“I know that.”
“And what about the documents you found in your basement? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on when I asked, more than once? Why keep me out of the loop like this, as if I’m a damn child or something and can’t be told anything?”
“Please don’t do this, Angela,” said Rowena quietly.
“Don't do what, Rowena? Speak the truth? It’s about time someone here did.”
“What do you mean by that? Specifically?” Nash’s voice was too quiet, too controlled. He no longer looked angry. He only looked defeated. Angela hesitated, but her pain was too raw. Her sense of justice demanded an answer.
“I’m talking about the documents you found in your basement. Why haven’t you told me what’s going on? Why all the secrecy? I’m supposed to tell you when I have to pee, but you withhold this from me? You neglect to tell me Brett was in the club last Friday night, and then you punish me for asking about those damn documents you found?”
“We didn’t punish you for that.”
Angela sat down on the pavement and hugged her knees because she was suddenly dizzy. “Yes you did, Nash. You specifically said it was because I asked about them.”
“No, love, it wasn’t.” He glanced toward the others then knelt beside her and whispered in her ear. “It was because you came when you were floating on the pool cushion, remember?”
She did now, but she didn’t want to tell him that. She didn’t want to admit that technically, she’d been wrong. Her need to lash out at someone for all this was still too strong, and she couldn’t confront Brett. “I want to go home.” She was so bone tired. Everything hurt. All she wanted to do at that moment was hide from the world and pretend that none of this was real.
Nash held out his hand. “Come on. We’ll take you.”
Angela stared at his outstretched hand, and at that exact moment Mancie’s words came back to her. “Oh no,” she whispered. “No…”
“Come on, Angela. You’re all right. Ian and I will take you home.” He sounded profoundly sad, and her heart broke. She’d blown it. Completely and totally blown it. All because of a bunch of old papers and her fucking ex-boyfriend’s penchant for posting YouTube videos.
She took Nash’s hand, only because she had to get out of this alley and to a safe place where she could think about everything, without anyone else around. She had to figure this out. It couldn’t be over. Not like this. She had to find a way to make it right.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Carma, I’m sorry.” Angela moved toward Carma, who was crying softly, but Nash steered her toward the street.
“Come on. We need to get you home.”
Angela glanced at Mateo and Blaine, but their faces were impassive. She’d lost her friends. She’d lashed out in anger like a spoiled teen, and now her friends were angry with her. How had this happened?
“Rowena…forgive me.”
Rowena shook her head. “Angela, it’s okay. Just go home. We’ll talk later.”
Van tightened his arm across Rowena’s shoulder, as if he were trying to protect her from Angela. She’d lost them, too. She had no one now. All because of Brett, and because she’d made a fuss about not being told what was buried in Nash’s family history.
She didn’t speak on the way home. They had to walk back to Nash’s house because none of them had driven downtown. The only tolerable part of the fifteen minutes it took them to drive to her condo from there was the fact that almost no one was on the streets. They were all downtown, watching the parade that she could still hear.
When she unlocked the door to her condo, the silence inside was as cold and empty as a tomb. She didn’t want to be alone, but she knew she had to be, at least for a while. Nash and Ian crossed the threshold with her, but she turned to face them and spoke before she lost her nerve and got on her knees to beg them to stay. “I want to be alone. I have to think.”
“You’ve had a terrible shock,” said Ian. “Why don’t you go upstairs and try to get some rest? Nash and I will stay here and—”
“No.” She cut him off. “No. I really need to be alone.”
“Angela, we’re not leaving you alone,” said Nash, his eyes dark and angry again.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please go. Both of you. I need to think about everything. I need to figure out…figure out what I want.”
“What?” Nash looked like she’d just slapped him.
“Angela…” Ian stopped, his mouth still open. It was then she realized he was still holding what was left of her training collar. She tried to stop the tears, but couldn’t. They rolled down her cheeks, but neither man made a move to wipe them away or embrace her.
She’d lost them both. Mancie had been right. It was over. “Please g
o.”
Nash stared at her for long, uncomfortable moments. Ian gently placed the leather and beads on the nearest table, and then he kissed the top of her head. Angela was crying harder now, but she held her ground. She had to. If she caved now, she’d never work this out on her own, and she knew that she had to. She should have done that before becoming involved with them. She should have made sure she’d worked through her anger and hurt over Brett before jumping into bed and a BDSM relationship with two men.
What the hell had she been thinking? She hadn’t been ready for this. She might never be ready for this. And it wasn’t fair to leave them thinking that she was. She had to be alone with her thoughts and figure this out.
“Please go,” she repeated.
Ian walked outside, but Nash just stood there, watching her. Finally, the expression on his face changed. He touched her face, just once, softly. “You know how to find us, Angela. This isn’t over. When you’re ready to talk, let us know. We’ll be there, waiting.”
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe. Watching him close the door gently behind him was like watching someone close the coffin lid over her face. Her head hurt, her chest still ached, and her stomach cramped violently again. She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up a second time, but there was no food left. It was only bile this time.
She crossed her legs and sat on the cold tile floor to think, wondering if there was truly any way to salvage what she had with Ian and Nash. Did she even deserve them? Why would they want her now, after everything she’d just done? Her naked body was all over YouTube, and she’d lashed out at them in front of their friends. She’d torn off her training collar, in front of other Doms and their sub. The significance was the same as if Rowena had ripped off her wedding ring and thrown it at Van in the middle of the town square.
But they’d betrayed her, or at least had kept valuable information from her. And what had she just done to them? Was her reaction to the video and what they’d neglected to tell her justified? Had they deserved that?
Angela was more confused now than ever. She forced herself to walk into her bedroom and peel off her clothes. Her entire body ached. As she crawled under the covers, she began to shiver. She missed their warmth next to her. How could she do this? How could she live without them? How would she ever figure this out?
* * * *
Ian sat on the porch where he and Nash had made love to Angela two short weeks ago. Had it really only been that long? It didn’t seem possible. It felt like they’d been with Angela for years, not weeks.
Ian was numb inside. That was the only way to describe it. He felt nothing. The usual sounds and smells made no sense today. His brain wouldn’t form a rational thought. All he could see was Angela, throwing up in the alley. He could still hear her screaming at them. She’d felt betrayed, by Brett and by them. Nothing would change that, and they couldn’t erase it from her mind. It was over. She’d pretty much assured that was true when she’d ripped off her collar and thrown it at them.
“We should have told her.”
Ian didn't answer Nash. There was no need to. He’d said it about two dozen times now, and Ian had agreed with him every single time. They should have told her that Brett had been in the club, and they should have told her what Nash had found in his basement.
The short conversation he and Nash had had about those very subjects came back to Ian. The reasons that, at the time, had sounded so noble and were designed to protect Angela no longer made sense. They should have told her.
Nash’s phone pinged, and Ian leaned over, hopeful, but the text wasn’t from Angela. “Tommy says Brett isn’t home, and no one seems to know where he is.”
“Maybe he’s on call?” Brett worked as a technician at Notus, and since wind turbines didn’t take weekends off when things went wrong with them, the line techs were usually on call quite often.
Nash shook his head. “He checked with them. Brett’s not on call this weekend.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“No clue.”
“You know we can’t go looking for him on our own. Tommy will throw our asses in jail if we kill Brett.”
Nash almost smiled, and then he rubbed his right hand again. “Think I bruised it badly when I punched that Dumpster. You’ll have to do the actual killing. I’ll tie him up, though.”
“You are good with ropes. Better than I ever was.”
Nash sighed loudly. “We have to do something, Ian. We have to go back and talk to her, whether she wants us there or not. I can’t just fucking sit here like this, waiting.”
“I know. But I don’t know what to say to her. Like you said, we should have told her. And what can we possibly say about Brett? It’s done. The whole fucking town will have seen the video by tonight.”
“I don’t give a shit if they do.”
Ian glanced at his friend. “I don't either, but you know that’s not the point. Angela cares. She has to look them in the eyes every day. She has to go to work. We can hide. She can’t.”
“Yes she can. She can quit her job and live here, with both of us.”
Ian shook his head. “She’d never do that. You know she wouldn’t. Every time we’ve brought it up she gets that deer-in-the-headlights look.”
“I can’t give her up, Ian. I won’t just let her go.”
Something in Nash’s voice caused Ian to turn toward him so that he could study his face. It hit him like a splash of cold water, and he knew he’d seen that look before, but for some reason it was much more obvious right now. It was all over Nash’s face and in his body language in a way that Ian had never really noticed. A cold sweat broke out on Ian’s forehead. “You love her.”
Nash didn’t answer, but there was no need to. Ian saw the truth in his eyes. “It’s okay. I do, too. I’ve loved her for a long time, if I’m being honest. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Nash nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I knew that. So what do we do now?”
“We tell her.”
Nash laughed, but it wasn’t a humorous laugh. It was full of derision and self-defeat. “Oh, right. That’ll be a fun conversation. Right before she tosses us out of her condo and tells us to go fuck ourselves.”
“No, I don’t think she will.”
“Really, Ian? When did you turn into a Pollyanna?”
“I’m not, okay? You saw her face, Nash. She’s afraid. Can you blame her? That’s twice that Brett fucked her by posting a YouTube video. Only now, instead of one of the town sluts baring it all for Passion Peak to see, it’s Angela. Our Angela. Our sub. The woman we swore to protect and train. Or are you upset that she lashed out like that and called us on our shitty behavior? Because I’m not. We deserved it.”
Nash stood and began to pace the tiny porch. “Of course I’m not upset with her. We had it coming. She was right.”
“Then let’s go tell her how we feel. Right now. Because if we wait…if we leave her alone too long with her thoughts, we…” He couldn’t say it. If he put it out there in the universe, it would happen. And Ian couldn’t allow that. He couldn't lose her. He knew that as sure as he knew his own name. He’d waited too long to hold her and touch her, and he was not going to let it end this way.
* * * *
Angela rolled over and placed a pillow on her head. Who the hell was banging away like that outside? She usually had quiet neighbors. Must be a party going on. She didn’t care. She was too tired to move. When her cell phone chirped for what sounded like the hundredth time, she turned it to vibrate, tossed it across the room, and went back to sleep.
When she woke again, it was dark and quiet in the room. How long had she been asleep? She tried to sit up and nearly fell over from dizziness. That’s what happens when you don’t eat for a day. Reality crept back in, bringing with it the memories of the video and what she’d said to Nash and Ian. She almost went back to sleep, but she knew she’d be in trouble if she didn’t eat something.
Nothing looked good, so she made some toast and forced that down. Then she warmed up a can of chicken noodle soup and ate it. Finally, some warmth returned to her body, but she knew that soup and toast wouldn’t fix the hole in her life. She’d lost Ian and Nash. The fact that they weren’t here right now was proof of that, wasn’t it?
She strolled into the living room, trying to remember if she’d given them keys. They’d talked about her doing so, but then she realized she’d never had them made. Even if they had come over, they wouldn’t have been able to get in.
Was that what the knocking had been? Panic raced through her. She opened her front door, but then closed it as she realized how silly that was. As if they’d just be standing there, waiting for her. She’d imagined the banging, or it had been her neighbors, just like she’d thought at the time. Ian and Nash had not come over here. Why would they have? She’d thrown them both out.
Her eye fell on the remains of the collar that Ian had placed on her table just before he left. She scooped it up and stood there, holding it, wondering what to do with it. She should give it back to Ian and Nash. Maybe they could have someone put it back together?
The thought of her collar on someone else’s neck sent a sick wave of pain through her again. No. She’d keep it. Surely if they’d wanted it they wouldn’t have left it here. Angela carried the torn piece of leather and the beads back upstairs. She crawled into bed and cradled what was left of her collar against her chest as she drifted back to sleep.
* * * *
Nash answered his phone without looking at the caller ID, praying it was Angela.
“Hey, it’s Tommy.”
Nash’s heart sank. Was she all right? Why hadn’t she answered her door before? Surely she was only sleeping, but what if she was hurt? “What’s up, Tommy?”
“Where are you and Ian right now?”