I Will Not Beg

by Cherise Sinclair

  “It’s reassuring to know she probably has a safe place, but it’ll make it more difficult to locate her.” Simon shook his head.

  Ethan’s gut tightened at the thought of her being frightened. Lost. “I should have stayed with her.”

  “If you’d gone after her into the bathroom, Serna would have followed. She was terrified enough.” Xavier shook his head. “You got caught in a no-win situation, Worth.”

  He knew it. Logic didn’t assuage his guilt. No one, especially his submissive, his woman, his love, should be afraid when he was around.

  Simon’s black eyes hardened. “What should we do about Serna?”

  “I was a second away from starting a fight, but she would have panicked even more.” As she had when he’d bloodied her stepbrother. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t put him in hospital.”

  Xavier snorted.

  “So much for our usual voice of reason.” Simon shook his head.

  “If you’d seen the way she reacted to him, you’d have held my coat.” Ethan paced back across the room. “He actually thought we’d allow him to take her against her will.”

  “Some Masters believe they have the right to hold someone in slavery forever, no matter how illegal.” Xavier shook his head.

  “Assholes,” Simon muttered. “Will Serna return to the club?”

  Ethan flexed his fists. He’d like to meet up with the wanker without Piper to witness.

  “Probably. Either to try to get Piper again or to cause as much trouble for her as he can.” Xavier glanced at Ethan. “Once this is over, we’re going to lay out Dark Haven’s position on Master/slave contracts. I understand the appeal of a consensual non-consent contract—no matter how invalid—but one lacking a retraction/termination clause for both parties is quite simply unethical. Let’s educate our membership.”

  Ethan nodded.

  “You didn’t answer what we do if Serna shows up tonight,” Simon said.

  “He essentially attacked a submissive in my club.” Xavier’s words were mild, but filled with a simmering anger. “He’s persona non grata and will be turned away at the door.”

  Xavier’s voice hardened. “With luck, he’ll refuse and give me an excuse to throw him into the brick wall a few times.”

  “Not yet,” Ethan said.

  Both men stared.

  “Don’t hurt him and don’t ban him,” Ethan added. The words were difficult to say.

  Xavier’s growl said he was barely throttling back his fury. “Why?”

  Ethan held up a finger. “First, Piper refuses to talk about what Serna did to her. I know it was abusive, but specifics would be useful to counteract the poison that lingers. If given a receptive ear, Serna is the type who will boast.”

  “I’m not sure I can tolerate having that bastard in Dark Haven.” Xavier opened and closed his hands. “But I can suck it up if you need information from him. I’ll ask deVries to have a conversation with him.”

  “Not deVries.” Simon half-smiled. “He’d end up punching Serna before getting more than a tidbit or two.”

  “Good point.” Xavier considered. “Either Alan or Michael, then. They’re both Masters, would come across as sympathetic to Serna’s cause, and can keep their reactions under control.”

  Simon glanced at Ethan. “Any other reasons?”

  “One, although it might be reaching.” Ethan watched a seagull fly past the window, then turned back to the room. “Serna had her convinced that her entire existence was all about serving him. That a slave who leaves her Owner is filth. She had enough spirit to run, but such indoctrination is difficult to shake off. If she saw others in the lifestyle call him out for the abuser he is, some healing might occur.”

  “Seeing him again is probably far past the courage of an abused slave, Ethan,” Xavier said.

  “I know.” Ethan rubbed his jaw. “It’s a long shot, no matter how brave she is.”

  In the silence, he turned toward the door. “Meantime, I have a little subbie to locate.”

  That morning, Piper left Alberta’s apartment, having raided her friend’s closet for gray drawstring sweatpants and a stretchy red tank top. She added a black hoodie to conceal her braless state.

  Maia, another friend from Stella’s, met her at a coffee shop, bringing a couple of cheap prepaid phones, tons of sympathy, and an offer of help.

  Piper had gotten teary-eyed. She was lucky in her friends, wasn’t she?

  After Maia left, Piper ordered coffee and a donut—because sugar makes everything better, right? But the donut reminded her of how Sir Ethan had fed her in the camp, looking out for her with his compelling mix of authority and protectiveness.

  There she went, getting all weepy again.

  Time to take a risk and check her messages. Turning on her phone, she opened her voicemail. So many.

  She listened to a few, skipped over several, then found one from Rona.

  Rona offered her house, her help, Simon’s help, and finished by saying that if Piper needed just Rona’s help and didn’t want Simon involved, she had it.

  Sniffling, Piper skipped two more messages.

  Then Abby’s voicemail repeated the message, even to saying she’d help without Xavier’s knowledge.

  Piper cried a little after listening.

  She skipped another message and opened Lindsey’s.

  Lindsey said the same as Rona and Abby but admitted she was shit at keeping secrets from deVries. Then she said her sadist Dom would love an excuse to beat Serna up. Just say the word.

  All three offers were so very, very tempting.

  Piper bit her lip. No. She certainly wouldn’t have deVries run the risk of being jailed for assault. She wouldn’t be the cause of a submissive keeping secrets from her Dom…and if the Doms knew where she was, they’d tell Ethan.

  After skipping another message, she opened Dixon’s. “Pips, I heard about that rat-bastard who gave you shit last night. Is he why you get all antsy sometimes? Anyway, I know you’re staying away from everybody—but I’m not everybody.”

  She had to smile at that one. Such a Dixon statement.

  “You know, I can sack out wherever you’re staying if you want someone close so you can sleep at night. Or I can watch your back while you’re running around. Call me, sweetkins. I want to help. I won’t tell Stan-the-Man if you don’t want him to know.”

  Had she ever had a better friend?

  She swallowed and, bracing herself, opened the first skipped message.

  The one from Ethan.

  He loved her.

  Oh my God.

  He said it right out loud, “I love you, Piper.” She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it, and played the voicemail again. “I love you, Piper.”

  Hot and cold chills streamed over her skin. He loved her. The feeling inside her was huge, as if her heart was straining to encompass all the world. He loves me.

  And that was so impossible right now.

  Hand over her chest, she played the next message.

  He apologized for leaving her alone. He said he’d wanted to punch Serna but had been afraid she’d panic even further.

  She scowled. Seeing him hit Serna would have been glorious. Or maybe not. She’d had an anxiety attack when he made Jerry all bloody, and with Serna, she’d already been panicking. Ethan had been right to worry about her reaction.

  He said he’d gone upstairs with Serna because it was the only way to get Serna away from her.

  The thought of Serna coming into the tiny enclosed space of the bathroom stall sent her heart rate skyrocketing. Oh, Ethan, thank God you didn’t let that happen.

  She felt a knot in her chest release, one she hadn’t realized was there. She hadn’t realized how betrayed she’d felt that Ethan had gone upstairs. But he was right. Serna would never have left unless Ethan did, too.

  She played the next messages.

  He said he loved her—again.

  He said he’d come for her wherever she was. Would protect her. Would hi
de her if that was what she needed now. Would go with her to press charges against Serna if that was what she wanted. Or not. Her choice. Trust him to help. To be her shield.

  And he loved her—yet again.

  God. Every few messages he said that. Just that. I love you, Piper. He wanted to see her. To protect her.

  I love you, too, Ethan.

  He was strong, so very strong, and he’d never back down from Serna. How much would loving her cost him? How could she risk destroying his life? Her heart felt as if it was ripping into pieces.

  “Ahem.”

  Piper looked up.

  An elderly woman stood beside the table. “Honey, are you all right?”

  Piper realized her face was wet from tears. “Yes. Yes, thank you.” She forced the quaver out of her voice. “I’m listening to messages from friends, and I realized how much I miss them. But I’m okay.”

  The woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a pat, pat, pat on her shoulder. “It’s hard to be away from the ones we love. It’ll get better, honey. It will.”

  No, no it won’t.

  As the woman carried her coffee out of the shop, Piper blinked hard. Wasn’t it amazing how nice people could be? Some people. Most people.

  Finally, she reached the most recent message. Its timestamp showed it was sent just before she’d turned on her phone. It was from Dixon.

  Her smile disappeared.

  “I’m leaving Stan. Packing up this morning. I’ll still help you, no matter what you need, but I want you to know that I won’t be across the hall, okay? So use the phone if you need me, sweetcheeks.”

  Dixon was leaving Stan?

  Oh, God, what had happened?

  As she powered-off her phone, Piper glanced at the time. Dixon would still be at his place.

  She went into her apartment building by the back way—the one used to take garbage to the bins. After running up the stairs, she checked the hallway on her floor. Empty.

  Her heart was pounding, more from fear than exertion. Because Serna must know where she lived. Surely, he couldn’t have gotten in, though.

  It didn’t matter if she was scared. Dixon needed her. She wouldn’t let him go through a breakup with Stan by himself. Dix probably hadn’t told anyone else what was going on.

  What if that night they’d all been drinking had made things worse between Dix and Stan? Remorse squashed her insides.

  She tapped on the door. After a minute, it opened.

  Pale face, dark circles under his reddened eyes.

  “Oh, Dix.” Even as she grabbed him in a hug, he did the same with her. Two messed-up fragile people.

  He was crying as hard as she was. Because they’d both lost their strong, protective, loving men. And they’d lost the fulfillment that came with serving the Doms they loved.

  Her soul had empty, aching craters.

  Eventually, Piper pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I came to help, not cry all over you.”

  Scrubbing his own face, he drew her inside and flipped the lock on the door. “If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t’ve been able to bawl my head off, too. Thanks.”

  “What can I do to help?” Piper saw a suitcase sitting beside the door. Another one was open on the coffee table next to a pile of DVDs and Dix’s laptop. She sank into a chair. “Are you sure you want to do this? Does Stan know you’re leaving?”

  Dixon’s eyes brimmed with tears again. “I tried to tell him last night. He came home after 3 am, and I tried, but he blew me off.”

  That didn’t sound like Stan. Piper lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, okay, not blew me off. Not exactly. He said, ‘Boy, I know something’s wrong, and we need to have a long talk, but I’m past brain dead. I can’t right now.’ ”

  “That seems reasonable,” she said cautiously. Dix in this mood was like nitroglycerine—ready to explode at the wrong move. “You aren’t going to wait?”

  “I asked if we could talk four days ago and got the same shit.” He flung out his arms as if to encompass the whole apartment. “These days, he’s only around long enough to fall into bed for a couple hours, get up, shower, and leave. He doesn’t even eat here.”

  “Is his work that busy?”

  “It hadn’t been up to now. He puts in overtime now and then, but never like this.” Dixon dropped onto the couch next to her. “Of course, he never partnered on a case with Devoted Darrell, either.”

  Oh, damn. “I’d hoped Darrell would be gone by now. Isn’t he from out of town?”

  “He is. Was.” Dixon’s shoulders slumped. “I heard them talking on the phone.” He grimaced at her reproving look. “Yeah, my bad. I even opened the bedroom door so I could listen. The Divine Darrell has a really loud voice.”

  She shouldn’t encourage him to eavesdrop on his Master. But… “What did he say?”

  Dixon gave her a half-smirk. See? You, too. His smile faded. “He might put in to relocate to San Francisco. Wanted to know what Stan thought.”

  “And?”

  “Stan said he should do what was best for him.”

  “Well…but Dix, that’s not exactly like he encouraged the guy. He could hardly tell him to keep his butt in Texas, after all.”

  “Yeah, he could’ve.” Dixon pouted for a second. “After that, dildoneck Darrell went on and on about stuff he wanted to do with Stan. Hiking and skiing. Sampling restaurants and all the BDSM clubs, too.”

  “And Stan said…?”

  “He said that’d be fun. He and me”—he pointed to his chest—“would enjoy showing Darrell the city.”

  “I’m glad Stan pointed out that he’s taken, but I bet Darrell didn’t appreciate the reminder.”

  “Yeah, no, not hardly. He went on and on about Stan tying himself to an uneducated, whiny, clingy wimp. That Stan deserved someone who’d have his back, could make his career, could be his equal. Not some gutter-rat.” Bitterness and hurt was clear in Dix’s voice.

  He’d told her about growing up poor in a scummy part of Sacramento. His janitor dad walked away. His mom worked crappy jobs and still couldn’t make ends meet. Dixon had worked hard to stand on his own feet, support himself, educate himself. He held three jobs, worked hard for his money, and saved it. How could anyone call him a gutter-rat?

  Piper knew exactly how he felt. Gutter-rat versus over-educated Special Agent. He felt Stan was out of his reach…exactly how she felt about Ethan. Worthless slave versus aristocrat.

  But this wasn’t about her. She pushed her grief into a corner. “Darrell is a pig, a complete swine, but Stan isn’t. He’s not. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to work things out?”

  “Maybe.” Dixon slumped against her. “But, God, Pips, what if he says it would be good to take a step back, or that maybe we moved too fast. It’d kill me.”

  Her heart chilled. She could almost hear Ethan saying those things. Only he hadn’t. “I love you, Piper.”

  That right there was the core. “Does Stan love you, Dix?”

  The expression on his face was heartbreaking. “He says he does. Or he used to say that.” He sighed. “I haven’t heard it in a long time.”

  God, god, god, she didn’t know what to tell him.

  Then the lock whirred, and the door opened, and it all became irrelevant.

  Dixon sat up straight as Stan opened the door. The surge of hope filling his heart almost did him in.

  But Stan stopped in the doorway and turned to speak to someone in the hallway. To the Divine Darrell. If Stan kissed the fartknocker, Dixon would…would do something ugly.

  Darrell was gloating about something. “It was a fantastic arrest. Looks great on the old resume, you know?” His loud tenor just seemed to be begging for a good bitch-slap. Dixon’s hand tingled to oblige.

  “I suppose.” Stan sounded as if all the energy had been sucked out of him.

  Dixon wanted to draw him a hot bath, make him a drink, and—

  “Fuck, lighten up, old man.” Darrell made an irritated sound. “We got the bastard
s.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  “Well, Christ Jesus, if you want to sit here and wallow in your misery, then fine. If you’d rather celebrate, then dump your ball-and-chain and come on down the hall.”

  “Darrell,” Stan growled.

  Ball-and-chain? Dixon scowled. He didn’t drag Stan down, didn’t make demands. Then again, what dipshit Darrell called him no longer mattered. Pain hollowed an aching space in Dixon’s chest. He’d be breaking those so-called chains himself.

  “Sorry, just kidding.” Darrell continued, “Come and celebrate with me. We could have some fun, you know?”

  “Thanks, but no. See you tomorrow morning, Darrell.”

  Right. Once again, Stan and Darrell would spend the day together. A Sunday, no less. Dixon couldn’t breathe against the rising tide of misery.

  Closing the door, Stan turned, saw Dixon. “Hey, there you are.”

  Before Dix could answer, Stan saw Piper. His eyes narrowed. “Where the hell have you been?” The hell came out a very Texan hay-yell. Not good. When Stan’s drawl thickened, Dix hid the canes and floggers.

  Dixon leaned forward, ready to step in front of Pips. Even if it was Stan.

  “I was staying at a friend’s place.” She rose. “I need to get back there, actually.”

  “You’re going nowhere, girl. Plant your ass right back down.” Stan pointed to her chair before scowling at Dixon. “Did you know where she was?”

  Ball and chain, gutter-rat. The constant cuts hurt; Stan’s anger made everything worse. Dixon’s words dried up, and he could only shake his head no.

  “All right.” Stan noticed the suitcase by the door and the other on the coffee table. “You can certainly stay here, Piper, if you’re worried about being alone. But it would be better if…” He stiffened as he realized Dixon’s belongings filled the open suitcase.

  Turning slowly, Stan stared at the entertainment center where gaps showed in the neatly lined-up DVD’s. He picked up the snake-print boxer briefs from the suitcase—so not Piper’s. The underwear dropped on the floor.