by Brandi Evans
Of course, he would. He'd have run a background check on her as part of his investigation, wouldn't he?
"We were at the same college for a few years," he continued. "I graduated two years ahead of you."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Go, Longhorns."
"Small world." And big campus. "After graduation and after passing all my nursing boards, I worked at a local Emergency Department. I started on the night shift. Jeff and I were married at this point, and he didn't like my new hours. He wanted me there when he went to bed and when he got up. He didn't like that I wasn't there to make him breakfast, nor did he understand why I slept all day after my shifts. He said I was just lazy. I told him he was being stupid. That's when he hit me for the first time."
Maddox placed a hand on her knee and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She expected him to move his hand away after, so when he didn't, she placed her hand on his and held on.
"I should have left him then," she said quietly, "but he genuinely seemed surprised he'd hit me. And for days, he apologized and apologized and apologized. And, well, I thought he meant it, and we moved to Dallas shortly after. I often wonder if everything I went through was my fault because I didn't leave him when—"
"You can't beat yourself up for things you might have done differently. Seeing the obvious in hindsight is easy." He paused a beat, the silence filled by Sarge as he chased something in his dreams, his legs twitching and "muted" barks punctuating the air. "I wish I could say your story wasn't one I hear over and over, but it is. Abusers don't always start with beatings that land their spouses in the emergency department. The abuse is often subtler than that, a systematic lowering of self-esteem or desensitization until their victims either don't recognize the abuse anymore or feel trapped, isolated from friends and family, or without a job to support them. Sometimes, they even convince their victims they deserved the abuse or, worse, that no one would believe them even if they came forward. As I can vehemently attest, abusive asshats like Harris are good at hiding who they are from the public for a long, long time."
His voice took on a harsh quality, and his masseter muscle pulsed as he clenched his jaw, released it, clenched it again. Anger. Was he remembering a specific case? A specific woman? How many women like her had he helped over the years? How many of those women had fallen in love with him?
He'd never held on to any of the women if one had. That was obvious by the fact he lived alone.
You're just the job to him.
"I was so scared of him by the time I finally left," she murmured.
"I know. I could see it every time we met, but you stayed brave. I'm amazed by you."
She backhanded away the single tear that slipped free. "I was only brave because I had you."
"No, the bravery was always there. He hadn't killed it. All I gave you was a shot of hope and some support." He turned his hand over and linked their fingers. "You tried leaving him time and time again, and what did he do the first time?"
She closed her eyes as the ugly memories spilled in and percolated. She'd told Maddox about the first time she'd left Jeff. About how he'd tracked her down to the hotel where she'd been staying—no hiding. She hadn't planned on staying long, just long enough for her parents to get there. Only a drunk driver had killed them on their way to Dallas, and Jeff had found her.
"He broke my leg so I wouldn't be able to run," she answered.
And when the emergency doctors had asked her what had happened, she'd said she fell down the stairs. God, the lie was such a cliché, but Jeff had told her to say it. He'd stood right beside her as she'd lied to the doctors, watching her. She'd been too terrified to do anything differently.
"Have you heard anything new about Jeff?" she asked. "Have they caught him?"
Maddox squeezed her hand. "The second I hear something, you'll know. I promise."
She nodded.
"But I'll tell you what, once your session with Caroline starts, I'll give Agents Fuckface and Asswipe a call, just to make certain."
She laughed, a watery sound but genuine. "You have such colorful names for people, Detective Westbrook."
"Only for people I don't like." He offered her the grin that made her insides go aflutter, and she tightened her grip on his hand. Sitting here with him was so lovely, the moment easy and sweet. She could have stayed here forever.
Maddox leaned toward her, a fraction of a millimeter, the movement so small that she was likely dreaming it, but the flutter in her belly wasn't imagination, neither was his hold on her hand, tightening, tightening.
A knock on the door had him jumping back as if she'd punched him, and he pushed from the counter, not making eye contact. "That'll probably be Caroline. Stay here while I check."
In a move that seemed as natural as breathing, Maddox placed his hand on the butt of his weapon.
"Sarge," Katlyn whispered, "come."
Woken from the knocking, Sarge hopped up and moved to her side. His ears scanned the room like two little satellite dishes. Body rigid, he was poised and ready for action, and it made her feel safer.
A woman's sultry alto danced with Maddox's sexy baritone and transported Katlyn back in time. No. No. It couldn't be. Could it?
Suddenly, Katlyn's thoughts drifted a decade into her past. She'd been a carefree, single college student whose biggest pressing issue had been figuring out how to juggle her personal life with schoolwork—and by personal life, she meant the BDSM scene.
Trying to hold her excitement in check, she gave Sarge's head a quick rub. "False alarm, boy."
Sarge gave a playful bark but stayed at her side as she stepped into the living room where Maddox was hugging a blonde wearing a pair of blue jeans and a striped top. On her feet was a pair of flat brown boots that reached her knees, but god, even from here, Katlyn knew she'd been right. And the happy tears flowed.
"Thanks for agreeing to this on such short notice," he was saying, "especially considering it's probably your lunch break."
"It's not a problem, Maddox. You know I'm always here to help."
Maddox turned so that the other woman faced Katlyn, and when the two women's gazes met, emotion filtered through the eyes of Katlyn's oldest friend.
Maddox motioned toward the other woman. "Kat, this is—"
"Carrie!" Katlyn exclaimed.
"Katie?" Carrie's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, my holy god! Katie Matthews!"
The years melted away as the two women rushed to embrace. Sarge barked a happy sound as giddy and piercing as the sounds Katlyn and Carrie made.
"So, apparently, introductions are not in order," Maddox said, confused.
"No, not really." Though she didn't want to pull back, Katlyn did. "Carrie and I were college roommates, but she went by Carrie Reynolds when I knew her. She's the friend I was telling you about the other day."
"Katie and Carrie, the dynamic duo, trouble squared, are back together again!" Carrie squeezed Katlyn again. "God help Dallas! The city won't know what hit it."
Katlyn never wanted to let go of her friend or this feeling. "We were placed together as freshmen, and we were roommates through graduation, when this one decided to leave me and go to grad school out west somewhere."
And Katlyn had stayed in Austin because things were getting serious with Jeff, and she hadn't wanted to give him up.
"We've got so much to catch up on," Carrie said, "like what you're doing here with this idiot—"
And just like that, the joy from a moment earlier dimmed.
Remembering why she was here, Carrie brought her hands up and examined Katlyn. She turned Katlyn's head left and right as if suddenly seeing the fading bruises. She hadn't used concealer that morning. She and Maddox hadn't planned on going anywhere, so she hadn't bothered with anything more than throwing on some mineral foundation.
"Jeff did this to you?" Carrie asked.
Katlyn nodded.
"If I ever get my hands on the bastard, I'll fucking castrate him with the dullest butter knife I c
an find."
"You'll have to get in line for that one," Maddox added. "There's not gonna be much left of that asshole when I'm done with him."
Katlyn offered Maddox a reassuring smile. Something in the timbre of his voice told her he needed it.
"When Maddox told me about the woman whose husband abducted and beat her, I never thought he was speaking of you. I'd never have suspected Jeff could do something like this. He seemed… so normal."
Katlyn hadn't been the only one fooled. She took solace in that. "I escaped, though. Finally."
"Yes, you did." Another happy hug. "And now, we're going to sit down, and you're going to tell me everything."
Katlyn did just that.
Maddox turned off the tap and dried his face. He'd given Katie and Carrie as much space that afternoon as he could manage. College roommates! Fucking small world.
He hadn't known Caroline back in his college days, either. He'd only met her at Restrained Fantasies, and after getting to know her a bit, he'd begun referring abuse victims her way. She had an uncanny ability to get victims to open up and feel at ease. He hoped she could do the same for Kat.
He'd managed to leave them alone to talk long enough to run to the corner café to get each woman a latte. He hadn't been able to make himself stay away longer than thirty minutes, though. Even with Sarge there, Maddox couldn't quite shake the sense of danger. He'd have to find a way to juggle keeping her safe and not smothering her. He'd also have to finagle going back to work into the mix.
Somehow, he'd figure something out. He couldn't keep her here indefinitely, even if keeping her here was exactly what he wanted. She wasn't a prisoner.
Carter and Raven were coming over tomorrow, and he and his partner planned to beef up the home security system. Carter was better with electronics than Maddox. He'd decked his home out with the full smart house treatment, and Maddox wanted some of that tech here.
He hit the bathroom lights on his way out and then nearly tripped over his own feet. Kat sat cross-legged in the center of his bed with Sarge on his back, legs in the air, as she rubbed his belly. She wore the same satin PJ shirt she'd worn last night, with its spaghetti straps and above-the-knees hem. It somehow managed to show off more and less than the T-shirt he'd lent her the first night.
When she'd worn his T-shirt, he'd experienced an element of possession he hadn't been able to shake. She'd worn his shirt; therefore, she was his. It was stupid and territorial, but it had been how he'd felt. But seeing her in the purely feminine satin number brought out an entirely new set of emotions.
The need to possess her.
He wanted to tear the material away and claim her. The desire was dangerous. He was dangerous around her. He'd nearly kissed her in the kitchen this afternoon, and he doubted he would have stopped with a mere kiss. He had to get his damn hormones under control, but she brought out his inner Dom like no woman ever had. Well, no other woman than his mystery sub from college.
More than a decade might have passed, but he'd never entirely forgotten her. He'd been her first Dom, she'd told him, but she hadn't told him her name. She'd worn a mask, too, which was okay because he had as well. They'd been at a masquerade ball, after all.
He'd spotted her standing nervously in a corner and trying to make herself as small as possible so others wouldn't notice her. Fat chance of that happening, given the outfit she'd donned. She might as well have worn a full-colored rainbow in a black and white painting.
She'd worn a three-quarters leather face mask with kitten ears, long, silky black hair cascading to her waist. The outfit consisted of little more than a black leather bra, a fluffy black skirt long enough to cover her ass, and black fishnet stockings. She'd even had a tail. She'd called to his inner Dom, and so he'd gone to her, ready to do anything to possess her, just like he wanted to possess Kat now. He was beginning to fear he'd go mad if he couldn't have her.
He shook his head, smiling at the memory. Funny that he'd started thinking of her again after all those years.
Kat looked up from her scratching, a smile on her lovely lips. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing. Just thinking of someone from my past."
She looked back to Sarge, and even though she hadn't vocalized her question, the inquiry showed in the way her smile slipped: she was wondering if the someone from his past was a woman.
She was jealous.
He sat on the side of the bed and, somehow, managed to keep from grabbing her and yanking her against him. To give his hands something to do, he gave Sarge's belly a rub.
"How'd things go with Caroline?" he asked.
Her smile returned, that sexy nose wrinkle making a comeback. "Wonderful! Spending the afternoon with her was like being in college again. She and I were inseparable back then. We did everything together."
He managed to keep himself from asking what "everything" entailed. "Was today mostly about getting caught up on old times, or did y'all discuss other things, like the nightmares?"
"Both. She wants me to continue with the Xanax at bedtime for a few more weeks before tapering off. In the meantime, she plans to delve into the reasons behind my nightmares. I've spent so many years suppressing my emotions. Avoidance techniques, she called them, and since I never dealt with the emotional trauma years with Jeff caused, it's bubbling up now in the form of nightmares." She paused. "Oh, I also learned she was married briefly in grad school. She said she wanted me to be one of her bridesmaids but couldn't get in touch with me. I hate Jeff even more knowing he kept me from getting that message."
Fucking asshole.
"Unless you say no, Carrie's planning on coming over each morning next week, and we're gonna do yoga and meditation therapy."
Don't reach for her hand. Don't reach for her hand. And for the love of god, don't drag her against you and wrestle her to the mattress while visions of her in yoga pants assault your stupid, primitive monkey brain!
"She said yoga and meditation are a great way to start dealing with daily stress, so I don't keep piling new stress on top of the old. And if I can manage to start dealing with the daily stress, it'll help free me up emotionally to start dealing with the trauma of living with Jeff all those years."
"You're strong, Kat, and you're brave. With time, you're going to get a handle on the reins of your life. I have faith in you."
"I wish I had your faith in me. Hell, Maddox, I don't even know who me is anymore. Carrie said I'm going to have to rediscover who I am. I've got a long way to go, but honestly, I'm afraid I'll never be able to fully make any real progress until I know Jeff isn't out there anymore."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"And, yes, I know that isn't an excuse, and I know I'll have to find a way to keep moving forward with my life regardless. It's just, sometimes, the thought of him is enough to make me want to run and hide away from everything."
This time, he couldn't stop from reaching for her and pressing a palm to her cheek. "You'll get there, and I'll get him. No matter what it takes, I'll make sure you're safe."
"I know you'll try." She covered his hand where it rested against her cheek. "But in the meantime, I've got no choice but to start working through all my shit. God, I feel like it'll take a million years."
"If it does, I'll still be right here, for as long as you need me."
Unshed tears swam in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. She might not realize it, but she was already getting stronger. Two days ago, those tears would have been streaming like rain down her cheeks.
"Will you stay with me again tonight?" she whispered. "I sleep better when you're beside me."
He should say no. He should run far, far away. He should make any and every excuse he could to get out of here as quickly as possible. Sleeping beside her another night was a recipe for disaster.
"Of course, I will," he whispered. "Whatever you need."
The job had called for the assassination of four people, so that was what Jeff had done.
He hadn't asked why; he'd just done. He'd killed four people; well, it would be four as soon as he managed to pull the trigger. Why hadn't the fuckers told him one of the targets was still in its goddamn cradle?
Jeff's hand shook, but he didn't lower the weapon from its target. The baby wailed, but no one in the house was alive to come to its aid. Its mother, father, and older sister were all dead. It should be dead, too. Why couldn't he pull the fucking trigger?
Straightening his shoulders, Jeff stood taller. He had a job to do. This was how the game was played. Tit for tat. It wasn't his job to question his orders. He'd do his part, and he'd get paid. It was as simple as that. For this job, his payment would be getting his whore of a wife back. Once he got her back, maybe he'd put a bullet in her stupid brain for betraying him.
Okay, probably not. He'd put in too much time and effort into training her, and he didn't want to train someone new. He just wanted his stupid bitch to remember her goddamn place. All she had to do was go back to being the good little obedient slave she'd been before she'd used her pussy to enchant that fucking cop into helping her escape.
The thing in the crib cried louder. Its terror echoed off the walls and bounced around inside Jeff's head.
"Shut-up!" he screamed.
The sobs intensified.
His finger tensed on the trigger.
Maybe, after this job, he could perform one more for Mr. Smith, and the man could arrange for him and Katlyn to disappear. They could go someplace tropical where he could focus on showing his wife her place again—someplace with no extradition treaties.
Or they could go to the jungles of South America. The destination didn't matter as much as the solitude did. He wanted someplace private where Katlyn couldn't find a way to use her pussy to motivate anyone else into helping her escape.
All he had to do was pull the goddamn trigger.
Chapter 9
Mentally and physically spent, Katlyn rolled to her back and let out a long sigh. Tucked away on the covered deck of Maddox's third-story apartment, she and Carrie hadn't escaped the muggy punch of the late afternoon Texas heat. Doing their yoga therapy session outside had seemed like a novel idea until about thirty minutes into the routine. She couldn't imagine hell being any hotter.