Cherise Sinclair - Breaking Free

How could he never want to see her again and still want her so badly his muscles strained to go after her? He knew she’d destroyed what was between them, yet his mind kept flashing back to her face: white, eyes stricken, lips trembling, shoulders hunched. Every cell in his body wanted to protect her from the man who’d made her look like that.

He huffed a bitter laugh. That man would be him.

Nolan grunted at the slap of guilt. This was hopeless. His mind was going in circles like a rowboat with one oar. Picking up the paddle, he struck out for his dock. The wind gusted over the water as he paddled, and he looked up. The setting moon glowed an evil red through black clouds that now covered half the sky. In the east, the first glints of sunrise streamed through the palms, soon to be blotted out.

Beth’s overloaded suitcases sat in the trailer. She’d filled supermarket boxes and stacked them by the door. And she still wasn’t done packing. She’d accumulated more stuff than she’d realized. A pot here and a picture there, an African violet here, and a pillow there, all added up. She needed more boxes.

Her curtains glowed as the early morning sun hit them. Standing in the center of the apartment, Beth stretched and blinked her gritty eyes. No rest, a lot of crying, a lot of packing. She’d be lucky to not fall asleep on the road.

All right. She needed to get more boxes. Finish packing. See the apartment manager. She could notify the utility companies once she had gone; that at least could wait. Maybe it was silly to be so antsy, considering Kyler had discovered she lived in Tampa last month, but everything inside her kept screaming at her to run.

She’d almost just headed north straight from the beach, leaving everything behind.

But she couldn’t afford that. She would need the garden service tools in the trailer and all the household stuff she’d bought over the last year. It would take every penny she’d saved to start over. Again . Her chest felt like someone had coiled a band around it, and she shook her head. No more crying. Not until she was gone.

She picked up the cell phone lying on the kitchen table and sighed. She kept looking at it every few minutes, hoping it would ring. That Nolan would have received her message. That he’d call. Pretty dumb.

The quiet knock on her door filled her with joy. Nolan . Dropping the phone, she ran to the door, flung it open.

“Elizabeth, my dear.” The fist hit her face so hard she felt the skin on her cheek split against his ring, and then she hit the floor. Dazed, she fought back blindly, fists flailing away. One connected, and he cursed. Something bit into her thigh. A needle, she realized, struggling to sit up. He hit her again, knocking her flat. His foot came down on her chest, his weight pressing her down. She struggled helplessly for breath.

And the edges of the world caved in and sucked her into blackness.

Nolan walked into the kitchen, toweling off his hair. He hadn’t tried to sleep; that would have been a worthless effort. But pounding on the bag in his workout room had eased the anger, and a hot shower cleared his mind. Nothing would help the hollow feeling deep in his chest.

As he poured a cup of coffee, he saw the message light blinking on his answering machine. He grunted. The way his life was going, probably one of his new office buildings had collapsed. He flicked the switch and leaned against the counter to listen.

“Nolan. Sir. I was going to call you. I mean I was going to call you before and try to apologize, only now…” Beth’s voice. Thick. Wavering.

He set his coffee down slowly, feeling like someone had stomped on his chest. She’d been crying…was still crying. His guilt layered higher, brick by brick.

“Now I’m saying goodbye too.” He heard a shaky breath. “And I’m not making sense. God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you and made you… I shouldn’t have let you f-fuck me once I knew how you felt about married women.”

He winced at the word. Bad enough he’d used it, worse that she could apply it to an act that had been much more than just sex.

“But I couldn’t get a divorce. I ran away. He’ll kill me if he finds me; that’s how my fingers got broken, from the last time. So I couldn’t… But I should have told you.”

With the sound of her sob, he stalked across the kitchen. The need to wrap his arms around her and comfort her was a burning knot inside.

“But it doesn’t matter; nothing matters now. Mom said Kyler knows I’m in Tampa, so I have to leave, and I’ll never get a chance to make this right.” A sniffle, silence. “Anyway, I just wanted… I wanted to thank you. I wanted more time with you. I…” A gulping sob. “Be well, Master.”

He stared at the machine. Surely she had more to say, hadn’t just hung up. Dammit, say more! He slammed his hand on the counter next to the phone, making his coffee slosh over the side of the cup.

A sick feeling grew inside him. What had he done? Damn his blindness. He’d known her last lover, husband or not, was the one who’d beat the crap out of her. He’d known the bastard had scarred her mentally and physically. He’d known she’d probably run from him. And filled with self-righteous crap, he’d come down on the little rabbit like a truckload of bricks.

How the hell could he blame her for doing anything she needed to ensure her own safety? “ He’ll kill me if he finds me .” She’d done what was necessary to survive.

Fuck… He felt like she’d slapped him upside of the head with a two-by-four instead of a phone call. He snorted. Being Beth, she hadn’t been trying to change his mind. She’d just wanted to apologize and say goodbye.

What did he want?

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Face it, idiot . The little sub had gotten to him with that combination of fear and trust, of passion and innocence. With her love of beauty and her willingness to work like a dog to achieve it. With her growing need to please him and her surprise when he cared for her in turn. And fuck it all, he wanted to continue to care for her and protect her. Did he love her?

Maybe.

He would have liked a chance to find out, but he’d screwed that up rather badly. No kidding, asshole . He’d overreacted and behaved like a man seeing his home fall apart in front of his eyes. But it hadn’t been the whole house. He’d barely begun to build really. And yes, the foundation had been laid on ground that was too soft, on a lack of knowledge and fear and untruths, but there were ways to stabilize all that.

He could rebuild. They could rebuild.

If she wanted to. He remembered the way her eyes had looked when he said goodbye. Stricken. Lost. He’d never forgive himself for being so fucking cruel. But could she forgive him? That was the question.

Apparently she planned to very politely take herself out of his life. He hit the counter again. Here she goes and rips his heart into pieces and then thinks she’s going to just up and leave?

No, not just leave-run. He set his jaw. She planned to run, to let her bastard husband win when she had him to defend her? Like hell!

What a pit, Kyler thought as he wiped rain from his face before unlocking the door to the tiny cabin. But, as the realtors always said, location is everything.

He turned and smiled in satisfaction at the surrounding area. Trees, palms, and palmettos stretched out into a dense green jungle. The only way to the cabin was a tiny dirt road and the only sound he could hear was rain pattering on the tin roof. No traffic, no neighbors. No witnesses.

He glanced at the rental car where Elizabeth slumped against the door, still out cold. Just as well. He needed time to set up. The thought sent excitement through him, and he hardened.