It took a moment, but I finally jerked myself awake and turned around.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” I said, shaking off the disturbing feelings.
Later that night, I lay tied to the four posters of the bed with rope while Lawton teased me mercilessly and brought me to a dozen climaxes. He brought out a whip, a flogger, a cane and a tawse, giving me good reason to stare anxiously at all his toys.
“My, I guess this isn’t the weekend for subtleties.”
“Something wrong?” he asked, but not like he was going to change his mind about his plans.
“No, not really.” Although I tugged at the ropes for good measure, noting that I would have very little say in what went on as long as I was tightly secured to the bed.
When he began to whip my pussy and tits with a flogger, my body was ready for its first climax, although he had to stop and gag me in order to muffle my screaming response. He warned me with his eyes narrowing threateningly, that if I got too loud, there would be ‘hell to pay’ once we left. Because I had no interest in knowing how Lawton defined ‘hell to pay’, I stayed in control when I would have rather just let loose.
We left the room only once that weekend when we dined in a beautiful little seafood bistro that looked out on the crashing surf. The weekend moved from one delirious lovemaking to the next, until all the hours had been used up and we were both sexually exhausted. I have no doubt that with a little rest, and maybe a good walk on the beach, we could have started over from the beginning, but as Lawton finally announced on Sunday afternoon, “You have to get back to Miz Bessie and I have to get back to the ranch.”
Though a little sad that the weekend had come to an end, I couldn’t have asked for more from the man. I was deeply in love.
At Miss Inez’ door, Lawton gave me a chaste peck on the cheek to say goodbye. Then promised in an obscure whisper, “I’ll see you soon, Sam.”
Being Lawton’s girl seemed to settle well with the people of Rio Marinas. For the most part, no one paid much attention to our affair, which was good for me. I didn’t want people making a fuss. Tom Quinn’s warnings were so firmly ingrained in my mind that I’d never forget. You need to stay vigilant. I’ll admit though, I had let my guard down. Over the months I’d talked myself into believing that I’d know if Ryder were after me. I’d be able to sense his presence closing in, and feel the ferocity as his dark desires moved toward another confrontation. My own instinct for self preservation would warn me, I repeatedly assured myself. I had to believe that to stay sane at all, otherwise the anxiety would have ripped me apart.
Chapter Eight
When I arrived at Miss Bessie’s in the morning, there was already a buzz in the shrill morning air. But the cloudless sky and brilliant sun were not the only reasons for the frenzied and agitated commotion around the diner. The parking lot was crowded with vehicles and so it seemed the diner was also packed, unusually so for that time of day. I went inside through the back door, as was my custom, and I found the place so filled with people that you could barely move.
“Damn, girl, I’m glad you’re here!” Miss Bessie greeted me. “We got more business this morning than I can handle alone.” I could see that for sure, but why?
“What’s going on?” Both the counter seats and the tables were full of customers, many I recognized as locals. But there were others, strangers, mingling about, and then an odd man and woman in business suits carrying clipboards, behind them, a cameraman pushing his way through the door. Lawton was in his usual counter seat, trying to eat his cheese omelet as the small crowd of strangers pushed toward him while he actively avoided their repeated questions.
He looked up at me and waved, at the same time I caught sight of the cameraman. I ducked my head and fled to the back of the diner with a wave of nausea turning my entire insides upside-down.
“Wuz you doin’, girl? Look like you seen the devil himself,” Miss Bessie said, just before she tried pushing me back into the jammed packed diner.
“I can’t do this,” I sputtered as I untied my apron.
“You sick?” She put her warm, puffy hand to my forehead.
“Yes, I’m sick, I’m very sick. I’m sorry…” my voice trailed off and so did I – right out the door. Thankfully, Marjorie, the other waitress, was just heading in.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re here,” the words were spoken in a hush, and I did not stop to explain as I rapidly moved away from the chaotic scene.
Because my car was parked close to the news van, I abandoned it and headed toward the beach on foot, as far away from the camera as I could go. For a long while I was sure that I was followed, though there was nothing to confirm that fact. Just my jitters, I said over and over again in a silent plea for a little sanity. When I finally reached the beach in front of Miss Inez’, I headed up and slipped in the basement door, taking the back stairs to my room.
The rest of the day, I huddled on my bed going over the scene again and again in my mind, trying to put myself outside the camera’s view, but I wasn’t sure if I’d avoided that seeing eye. It was a stupid blunder, I knew that.
I should have known that Lawton would be sought after with regards to his lawsuit against the State of California; it was only a matter of time before some enterprising news team would look for the angle on a case that was certain to have long-term consequences in the area. I could see Lawton fielding questions with the ease of a pro, but what I could not afford was to be seen with him while the press were hounding him for answers.
I checked the midday news hoping to find the story, but there was no mention of Rio Marinas and the lawsuit. My heart sank further into depression since it would be a five hour wait for the six o’clock news. By one, Lawton had already left three messages on my cell phone, enough that I could feel his impatience in the brusque tone of his voice as I listened to the last one.
Just before the six o’clock news there was a fourth message. In this one, his voice took on a tone I only heard infrequently from him, and rarely when he was speaking to me. All the dominant timber of a man in charge – in fact, a rather angry man in charge – came through loud and clear. I knew that I owed him a call back, but what would I say? Since I wasn’t sick, I had the feeling that he could see right through any claim I made to that effect.
“Samantha, if I don’t hear back from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming over. And you’d better be there.” He was assuming, rightly so, that I was in my room. Maybe I should have gone to the library, hidden inside the old building where my cell phone didn’t work, but it was too late for alternate plans.
I almost grabbed the phone to reply to this last message, but all of a sudden there it was: the film from the morning’s confrontation in Miss Bessie’s diner was playing before my eyes. I studied it carefully, wishing that I could have recorded it to play another dozen times, but there was no recorder on the old TV set. The crowd in Bessie’s had rocked the cameraman so that there were a few blurred frames. Then the rest of the piece was focused on Lawton’s face. One small sliver of that film caught the back of my head. I saw it, immediately recognizing myself, although I could not be sure if my face was clear enough for the casual viewer to recognize. I immediately froze up, and for several minutes just stared at the TV, trying to relive that split second to determine if there were anything identifiable in that one glimpse. I knew there was not, but I could not stop my heart from racing, or the grueling anxiety in the pit of my stomach. The chances of Ryder seeing the film, or, if he did, recognizing me from that brief clip were remote. But that did not stop my racing heart nor the angst that had suddenly displaced any feeling of security I might have felt since setting my feet in Rio Marinas.
I felt exposed and vulnerable, knowing that to be safe, I would now have to watch my every move and be suspicious of the world around me. I even launched into a fitful stream of plans, charting my next transformation, my next move. Where I would go? Where I would be safe? The faster I got out of town the sooner that I could leave a col
d trail for Ryder to follow. Even as my fears pushed this line of thinking along, I knew that kind of rash response was ridiculous even if I could not let it go.
I completely forgot about calling Lawton – my plan had been to claim that I had suddenly taken ill – that was the best I could do. Only after I’d paced the room for the fifteen minutes that Lawton had allowed me did I remember that I needed to make that call. By then, it was too late. A sharp rap at my bedroom door jerked me from the panic and back to reality.
“Samantha, it’s Lawton.” I heard the cool timber of his voice and trembled with good reason. The threat facing me was far more real than the one I’d manufactured over the last several hours.
I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied talking through the door – although I wondered exactly what he’d done to gain entrance to the upstairs of the boarding house. Miss Inez had very strict rules, especially about male visitors in women’s rooms.
I finally opened the door on my fuming boyfriend, and shrunk back from the energy that blasted me in the gut.
“You don’t look sick. What the hell’s going on?” Not an ounce of kindness there.
“I-um…” All my frenzied thinking had failed to consider a good excuse for my suddenly checking out of the diner. Lawton had already dispensed with my made-up illness. But certainly the truth would never work.
When I opened the door and stood back to let him inside, I was only buying time.
I gulped visibly, knowing that I was doomed.
“I don’t think Miss Inez would mind if you came inside,” I said.
“No, she won’t.” He seemed quite certain of that fact, while I was not.
“So what’s the explanation, Samantha?”
I waited a while to answer then finally spit out: “I-I don’t have one, Lawton.”
“No? No?” He couldn’t believe that was all I had to say. “Sorry, Samantha, that’s not good enough.”
“It should be,” I shot back. “I guess I saw that crowd all gathered around you, and well, it … I-uh panicked. Claustrophobia, maybe.”
“Sorry, I don’t believe that”
“Well, that’s too bad.” My confusion was quickly turning into anger, which for the moment, I saw as a good thing. Anger always unleashed believable excuses. Or at least that’s what I thought. “You never told me about that lawsuit. And suddenly there was all this commotion aimed at you. I freaked. What was I supposed to do? The press was hounding you. How did I know that you weren’t going to be arrested for something?”
“So, you’re afraid of the camera? Is that it?”
Good thing that my back was turned when he asked the question because he was sure to have seen the truth in my expression: he’d hit the nail on the head. By the time I turned around, I was back in control.
In fact, I whirled around, stating defensively: “No, I’m not afraid of the camera.”
He searched my face, and I knew that my hard expression hadn’t given me away.
“Tell me that you’re not running from the law?” he leveled me again, with what felt like a direct accusation.
This time I could speak the truth, there was no law involved. “No, I am not running from the law. I’m surprised you’d even ask,” I said indignantly. Nothing like laying the blame on him. But was I screwing up the relationship by doing so? It was a chance I had to take.
“Well, if you’re not running from something, you’re not afraid of the camera, and you’re not sick, then your behavior this morning and this afternoon makes no sense. Not to me. Not to Miss Bessie. Not to anyone else.”
“Geez, I’m sorry.” The chip on the shoulder attitude was apparently not convincing, and I didn’t get away with it.
“I suppose we’ll just have to chalk this one up to stubborn inconsideration,” he shot off. “And I can do something about that.”
He reached out and grabbed my arm, wrenching me towards him as he moved to the bed and sat down at the edge. I was over his lap with his hand coming down on my ass with a spirited reprisal of spanks that soon had my bottom burning, even with my pants still on.
A simple spanking? Was that what I needed to get this silly mess behind me? I wondered as the smacks kept hitting my wiggling behind. It stung, yes, but if it would get Lawton off my case, I’d suffer through it. I lived with that thought for several smack-packed minutes until the burn got hard to take and I began to squirm like crazy to get away.
This really pissed him off and he started to fumble with the button and zipper at my waist. Seconds later, he yanked my jeans off my hips. With them at half mast around my knees, he started in again with his hand, delivering another round of smacks that came down so fast that I was bucking with all the strength I had. For that, he only clamped down harder with his left arm securing my position on his lap, while his right hand continued with the spanking. This went on until I was so consumed by my fiery rage that I began spitting out a long string of curse words.
“Dammit, Lawton! You fucking son of a bitch!” was finally launched into the air like a rocket, with the rough words ricocheting off the walls.
Almost immediately, Lawton dropped me to the floor, then yanked my arm so I was kneeling before him. He leveled a hard slap across my face.
“You can swear all you want to me, but you will not do it in this house. Is that clear?”
I shrank back in horror, stunned by the burning handprint on my cheek. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m so friggin’,” I whispered very softly, “mad.”
He slapped me again. “I said that’s enough.” Though I didn’t budge an inch, his eyes seemed to drill me against the far wall. I stared back feeling as lowly as a rat.
Though I was much subdued, we both knew that my anger was still boiling near the surface. I feared how it would explode, but I had no say over what came next. Lawton was not a man to let anything like this slide, and it was obvious that I’d not seen the last of his reprisal.
As soon as the impact of his slaps had dwindled, he was on his feet and jerking me up to the bed. “Put you hands behind your back and keep them there. And don’t you dare try to cover your ass.”
My shoulders were shoved into the mattress, and with my feet still bound by the bunched up blue jeans, I was effectively contained. When I looked back, I could see Lawton withdraw the heavy leather belt from around his waist and double it in his fist. Standing to one side, he had my ass as his target and the poor scorched thing bouncing up and down with each slash of leather he leveled on my throbbing bottom.
I buried my face in the mattress to keep from screaming more profanities. I wasn’t about to have him slapping my face again. That was the worst of the punishment, a humiliation so profound that I felt elementally shamed.
I’d never seen Lawton so angry, and for a while, I thought he’d never stop. When he finally laid the belt aside, his anger had pretty much vanished, although his righteous indignation was still very obvious. For a few brief moments, he spanked me with his hand, which caused a huge shift inside my body. Pain turned to arousal and my groaning anguish into moans of pleasure. Though I was obviously turned-on, I was quite sure that Lawton would not act on what was so plainly evident to us both. Sex now would not serve his purpose – which was too bad for me.
When he finally stopped, I remained submissively posed on the bed, while he thread his belt back through the belt loops of his jeans.
“Get up, Samantha.” His tone of voice was enough to give me an alarming shiver, but it was no more threatening than what I’d already suffered that day.
I gingerly rose from the bed, still hobbled by the blue jeans, and turned to face him with a tear-streaked face.
“Let me see your ass.” I’m sure he did this to humiliate me further, since he would have already seen the evidence clearly. His eyes were like daggers, and my poor ass seemed to heat under the glare of his imperious stare. “Turn around.” This was hardly a relief; his mood was just as threatening as when we started, his voice, his mouth, his entire face just as grim.
“I’m going to accept that there is no reasonable excuse for your behavior today, but that doesn’t mean you can impulsively run off like that again and hide up here in your room. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered meekly.
“You’re too old for that kind of irresponsible behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not only that, ignoring my calls is unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, Lawton.”
He looked strangely confused, and why wouldn’t he be? After giving him no logical excuse for my behavior during the last several hours, I humbly agreed to everything he said.
“Maybe you are sorry. But you certainly haven’t made this easy for me. I don’t think of our relationship as ‘casual’, one I can suddenly throw away or dismiss as unimportant. If it is to you, then you tell me now. It’ll be over before the front door slams behind me.”
“No, no, I love what we have.”
He nodded grimly. “All right then. Incident over. We’ll go on from here, maybe pretend it never happened. Next time you get freaked out, say something before you go running off in panic. Is that a promise?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lawton remained unapologetically dictatorial, which wasn’t all that easy for me, but he’d certainly revved up my sexual fires. There was so much caring behind his threats and warnings. I felt awful that I’d put him through so much. I could only pray that his lawsuit wouldn’t generate any more publicity, at least with me in the picture.
It would have been so much easier if I’d been able to tell him the truth, but knowing Lawton, he would have been hunting down Jon Ryder with his six-guns and my life would have been in shambles once again. I couldn’t afford that. He did not need to get dragged into the mess I’d made of my life. The thought of a confrontation between he and Ryder was enough to turn my stomach, and I would suffer a dozen punishments before I’d sacrifice what I had for that terrible unknown. In fact, I would break things off with Lawton if I had any idea that Ryder was getting close.
Nightmare of Vengeance Page 10