Collaring Brooke (Club Zodiac Book 3)

by Becca Jameson

  He stopped her with a finger under her chin. “You pick. The T-shirt or nothing.” He had a good reason to keep her in a submissive mind frame. She was stressed as hell, and it was going to get worse before it got better. The only thing that ever calmed her was submitting to him. If he could enforce the role, perhaps he could keep her from losing her mind in the process.

  She flushed, which always made his cock jump to attention. Staring at the T-shirt he held out to her, she spoke again. “Carter…”

  He could tell by the tone of her voice she was going to argue her point further, so he needed to nip in in the bud. “I didn’t say we were done with our scene. Just because I spanked your sweet bottom and you came hard for me doesn’t mean you get to break out of the scene and get dressed.”

  She lowered her gaze.

  He kept his voice firm. “Now, you have two choices. I’m going to give you about three seconds to decide, and then I’m going to choose for you. One more word and I’ll do more than choose what you won’t be wearing. I’ll also discipline you for your insubordination in a way you won’t enjoy.”

  After a few seconds’ hesitation, she reached for the T-shirt and drew it toward her chest.

  “Good decision. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He left her there to put the shirt on and gave her a moment to regroup. If she came out swinging, he’d have to react accordingly. If she came out demure and back in the role, he would pump his fist in his head and reward her.

  Five minutes went by before she emerged from the hallway wearing nothing but the T-shirt, her hands folded behind her back.

  He pulled out the chair next to him. “Good girl. Come sit. I’ve already discovered a few things.”

  Brooke was trembling as she sat next to him. On the one hand, she was out of her mind for obeying him like this. On the other hand, wasn’t his dominance exactly what she wanted? She craved it. He’d proven to her this afternoon that she didn’t have to be beaten bloody to get release, and she felt an instant calmness flow over her body after he spanked her to orgasm.

  If the arrangement was weird, he didn’t let on. He’d even explained that many people in the community had similar agreements.

  Her heart had pounded and she’d gotten agitated at the prospect of locating her grandparents, but then he’d suddenly stepped in and put a stop to her burgeoning anxiety.

  She felt incredibly awkward stepping out of the bedroom in so little clothing, but obeying him also felt…right. “Did you find them already?” she asked tentatively as he scooted her chair in.

  “Yes. Looks like your grandmother still lives at the same address she used when your mother disappeared.”

  Brooke glanced at Carter to find his face pinched. “Where is my grandfather?”

  “He died about ten years ago. I found his obituary.” He grabbed her hand and drew it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

  She frowned. “Not like I knew he existed anyway.” It hurt, though. She’d only found out she had grandparents today, and already one of them was dead.

  “Your grandmother is only sixty-two, so she wasn’t very old when she had your mother either.”

  “My age,” Brooke surmised.

  “Yes.”

  She shuddered. No way in hell could she have a baby at this age, let alone five years ago. She wouldn’t even know what to do with a child. Besides, she never wanted to have kids. She feared she wouldn’t be able to break the cycle and would treat them the same way her mother had treated her.

  “You okay?” Carter asked, leaning to put his face level with hers.

  “Yeah.”

  “The yearbook must be from your mother’s junior year of high school. She disappeared near the beginning of her senior year.”

  “Do you think she ran away?”

  He sighed. “Who knows? She could have run away because she was pregnant. Now that we know how young she was, it’s a very real possibility. Maybe her parents wouldn’t support her.”

  “But that’s not the only option.” Several other scenarios could just as easily be true.

  “Right. She could have been abducted. She could have run off with your father and then later left him. She could have met your father after she left. All we can do is hope your grandmother knows something.”

  Brooke nodded. “And Mrs. Thurston. Maybe she can fill in some holes.”

  “Exactly.” He smiled. “Tomorrow we’ll at least have answers. They may not be the ones you want, but they will steer us in the right direction.”

  The idea that her father might have been looking for her hurt. She hated thinking that people spent twenty-two years looking for a child while she’d been sequestered in Miami all this time. Guilt raced through her all of the sudden, and she stiffened.

  “What?” Carter asked, twisting to face her again. “What’s the matter?” He grabbed her hand again. “You’re white.”

  She licked her lips, her voice shaky when she spoke. “I should have known. I should have told someone. I’ve probably hurt people with my silence.”

  He jerked his entire chair around and pulled her out of hers, setting her between his legs, his hands on her arms. “Brooke, that’s crazy. This is not your fault. You’re the victim. You can’t blame yourself for your mother’s choices. She might have been selfish, but there’s also the possibility she had a good reason for hiding you.”

  Her voice rose, squeaking. “So she could abuse me?”

  He took a deep breath. “Well, that part sucks. It’s horrible. No one should be treated that way for any reason. Ever. I’m not excusing your mother’s behavior. I’m simply pointing out we don’t have all the facts. We don’t know her motives. What we do know is that no matter what, you have no blame in this.” He gave her a small shake as if he thought it might help her see reason.

  She shook her head. “I’m a grown woman. My mother was still beating me at the age of twenty-one. I should have told someone. I should have gotten help. I should have run away. I should have run away years ago. Why would I stay and endure her wrath for all these years? I feel so stupid.”

  Carter pulled her into his arms as she hiccupped. “Baby, no.” He threaded his fingers in her hair and held her tight. “You did the best you could with what you had to work with. You didn’t have money. You didn’t know who you were. You had no family. No friends. She manipulated you. You played her games the best way you knew how to survive.”

  “I’m so weak and stupid,” she told his chest, her arms hanging loosely between them. She didn’t even want to lift them to hold him back. What an idiot.

  His lips were on her ear now. “You’re the exact opposite of weak and stupid.” He pulled her back a few inches, forcing her to look at him. “You’re so strong. You lived. You’re getting better every day. You’re a survivor. I’m in awe of your strength. I don’t know how you do it. It tears my heart to shreds every time I think of what you endured. Most people would be broken.”

  She stared at him, thinking he’d lost his mind for a minute. “I am broken,” she managed.

  He shook his head. “No. You’re scratched. There’s no blood.” He gave her a small smile. “A little therapy to help you let go of the guilt and you’ll be so much more confident.”

  She searched his eyes, finding nothing but faith in her. Faith she didn’t share. “I have no education. I’m a grown woman who’s never been to school. I can’t even get a job because I don’t have a social security card.”

  “You said you were homeschooled, right?”

  “Yes, but what does that mean? So, I took yearly exams. I never graduated. I don’t even know what I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m no expert, but I can tell you’re educated. I bet if you looked into it and took a few classes, you could pass your GED easily. Then the world will open up to you.”

  She smirked. “How? Then I could clean houses for people who take pity on me for the rest of my life?”

  “No. Unless that’s what you enjoy. I mean, you can choose
anything you want to be. Go to college if you want. Get a degree.” His eyes shot wider. “Hey, you have a driver’s license, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your mom go with you to get it?”

  “Of course. She wasn’t happy about it, but she finally relented when I was eighteen. She needed me to be able to run errands for her, and work.” What was his point?

  He smiled wider again. “Then you have a social security card somewhere, and a birth certificate. We just need to hunt them down.”

  “Hmm.” Was it possible?

  “How are we going to do that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

  Chapter 19

  Brooke had never been more nervous than she was the next morning as they drove toward West Palm Beach. She kept fidgeting in her seat, unease making her nearly nauseous.

  They had first been to visit Mrs. Thurston at the apartment building where Brooke had lived for as long as she could remember. The kind, older woman had been gracious and helpful without asking too many details, thank God.

  The most important thing Brooke and Carter had learned was that Brooke’s mother had been pregnant when she moved into the building, and she had given birth at the closest local hospital. Mrs. Thurston said a man had never been in the picture as far as she knew.

  Carter had reassured Brooke that knowing where she was born would make it incredibly easy to obtain her birth certificate and then her social security card.

  Now they were on their way to see her grandmother, having decided not to give the woman the heads-up.

  It was eleven in the morning when Carter parked the car in front of the address and turned to face Brooke. “You okay?”

  “Not even close,” she responded, forcing a smile. “But I never will be.” She was, however, eternally grateful to have Carter on her team. The first man she’d ever had a real relationship with. Other than her appointments with Faith, she didn’t even have friends. She’d been so lonely since her mother died that it had worn her down.

  She was no longer alone. But was it right to get into such an intense relationship with the first man she met? Probably not. Now wasn’t the time to worry about Carter, though.

  She took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

  Carter rounded the car, took her hand, and led her to the front door. He knocked.

  She thought she might hyperventilate.

  After a few moments, an older woman opened the door. “Can I help you?” Her voice was hesitant, and she looked like she might slam the door in their faces at the least provocation.

  Carter spoke, bless him. “Are you Wanda Wilson?”

  “Yes.” She frowned.

  “Did you have a daughter named Laurie Ann Wilson?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her throat, and she looked like she might faint.

  “Ma’am?” Carter continued, wrapping an arm around Brooke’s shoulders. “I know this is a shock to you, but I believe this is your granddaughter.”

  For long moments, the older woman stared at Carter without blinking. And then her gaze shot to Brooke. She swallowed. “My Laurie? You’re her daughter?”

  Brooke nodded, unable to speak. Emotion nearly choked her.

  “Can we come inside, ma’am?” Carter encouraged.

  Wanda opened the door farther. “Of course.” She stepped back enough for Carter and Brooke to pass and then she shut the front door. “Please, have a seat.”

  If it weren’t for Carter, Brooke was pretty sure she would have fainted. He held her up, physically and emotionally. He led her to the worn older sofa across the room and guided her to sit next to him. Keeping her hand in his, he held it in his lap.

  Brooke eyed her grandmother carefully. She looked older than she probably was. Life hadn’t been kind to her. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her dress and shoes looked like they were over twenty years old. She lowered onto an armchair across from them. “Is it true?” A tear slid down her cheek, and she grabbed a tissue to dab at her eyes.

  “I believe so,” Carter continued. “We’ve done all the research we could, but we have so many holes in the story.”

  “Where…?” Wanda’s voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. “I mean, how…?”

  Carter squeezed Brooke’s hand and glanced at her before continuing, seeming to read her mind. He knew exactly what she needed. “Unfortunately, Brooke’s mother passed away about six months ago.”

  “Brooke?” Wanda’s gaze shot to her. “That’s your name? What a lovely name.” And then she jerked her attention back to Carter. “Did you say my daughter died?” Her lip trembled, and she wiped her eyes again with the tissue.

  Carter nodded. “I’m afraid so. She had a stroke. She went quickly. I’m so sorry.” Brooke was grateful to him for easing this woman’s pain.

  More tears fell. Wanda glanced away. “All these years…” She looked back. “Where do you live, dear?” she asked Brooke.

  Brooke finally found her voice. “Miami. I’ve lived there all my life.”

  Wanda slowly nodded. “So close…”

  Brooke cleared her throat. “Can you tell me why my mother left? Or how?”

  Her grandmother pursed her lips, her face so sullen it was difficult not to cry with her, but Brooke had cried a river in the last week. She didn’t have anything left at the moment.

  “Ma’am? Can I get you anything? Some water maybe?” Carter offered.

  The older woman shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She stared at her lap for a long time. “How old are you, Brooke?” she asked.

  “Twenty-two.”

  Another slow nod as Wanda probably did the math and processed the reality.

  “I assume my mother was pregnant when she left. Did you know?”

  “No.” The one word was soft. “We weren’t…close.”

  Carter spoke again. “Would she have been afraid to tell you she was pregnant?”

  A wry chuckle shocked Brooke. “That would be an understatement. My husband probably would have killed her.”

  Carter flinched at Brooke’s side.

  Brooke was taken aback too, but at this point very little would shock her. “Her father?”

  “Yes.” Wanda nodded. “He was very strict.”

  Carter interrupted. “Did he abuse her?”

  Wanda stared at Carter for a long time before shifting her gaze to Brooke. “I’m so sorry. I should have done something. I should have gone to the police. I should have left him.” Her voice trailed off.

  Brooke realized the woman was wracked with the same guilt Brooke felt. She had known about the abuse, and she had done nothing. Brooke knew from Carter’s intimations and some of the things he said outright that her mother’s history had probably included abuse. It was common for abuse victims to carry on the tradition because it was all they knew.

  “I understand your husband passed about ten years ago?” Carter asked.

  Wanda nodded. “He was in an accident. Died on impact.” Brooke noticed her grandmother did not shed a tear for that loss. She shuddered, but she held her head higher and didn’t give him that satisfaction. There was a good chance she too had been abused.

  “Is there any chance you might know who my father is?” Brooke asked.

  Wanda’s brow furrowed and she cocked her head, and then her face cleared and she sat up straighter, slowly nodding. “I know exactly who your father is. You look just like him.”

  Brooke leaned into Carter, relief and excitement and fear consuming her. She grabbed his arm and held on tight as if he could keep her from slipping into another dimension. “Do you think he knows about me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. He never said anything to me, though. Your mother was secretly dating him before she disappeared. He came over every day for weeks wanting to know if she’d called or if the police had any leads. He was distraught, but he never mentioned a pregnancy.”

  “Would you mind giving us his
name and any information you have?” Carter prompted.

  “Of course. I remember him well. His name is David Rollings. He still lives in the area. I saw him just a few weeks ago at the grocery store. His parents still live in the same house two blocks over.”

  Brooke’s heart raced with anticipation. She had never imagined a day when she would meet a blood relative, and now she found out she had several. She was still scared out of her mind, but she felt stronger too. “Do you know if he has a family?” She would need to be careful approaching a man who knew nothing about her and possibly upsetting his wife and kids.

  Wanda smiled. “He’s married, and he has two boys. I think they must be about eight and ten years old.” She was crying again, needing to reach for another tissue to wipe her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re here. And my Laurie…” She dipped her face again. “I never got to say goodbye.”

  Brooke glanced around the room, trying to picture her mother as a little girl growing up in this house. She had no idea what level of abuse she might have experienced, but she’d had a yard and school and friends and even a boyfriend—all things she had later denied her own daughter.

  Carter wrapped his arm around Brooke’s shoulders and tipped her chin back. He must have read her mind because his words answered her unspoken questions. “It’s no excuse, but she thought she was doing the right thing at the time. Protecting you. Keeping you safe.”

  Brooke bit her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay and blinked up at the man she owed her life to.

  Carter glanced at Wanda and asked another question. “Was your daughter by any chance depressed, or did she suffer from anxiety?”

  Wanda nodded, her face so filled with sorrow it hurt to watch her suffering. “We never had her diagnosed, but I always knew she had issues. She would often go from really happy to really angry in an instant. It was hard to judge her, though, since her father was so…unreasonable. The slightest provocation would set him off. It was like he was two different people. Laurie was the same way, but I didn’t know if her depression was caused by him or if she was born with the same tendency.”