Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

As Sam sidestepped a toddler chasing a beach ball, her mother on a park bench gave him a sharp look. He approved of her vigilance. The world held too many monsters. But Sam wasn’t someone she needed to worry about. He might be a sadist, but he only played consensual games.

Except for one time.

The scene he’d done at the slave auction with Linda hadn’t been what he would call consensual. To lead the FBI to the auction, he’d convinced the slavers he was a buyer and gotten himself an invitation. But the cops had needed time to block the roads, which left Raoul, his sub, and Sam in a nightmare. Wealthy buyers had roamed a ballroom, sampling the “merchandise”—the slaves chained to the walls.

Linda had been up for sale. Since Raoul’s sub knew her, she’d asked Sam to care for Linda. But there was no care to be had in a place like that. Disguised as a buyer, Sam’s only hope was to pretend to check her out prior to buying her. To whip her himself. He couldn’t risk telling her that he was a good guy and help was on the way.

Seeing Kim’s nod of approval, Linda had known Sam wasn’t a complete bastard. But was the scene consensual? Hardly. Not when her only choice had been him or another slaver.

Sam ran his hand through his hair. He was too damned old to play James Bond. He was a farmer, not a spy. He’d done his best by her, and she’d been the sweetest, most responsive submissive-masochist he’d ever met. The chemistry between them had been a bonfire. She’d trusted him, given him what he asked for, and in return, he’d transformed what might have been a nightmare of pain into something wonderful for her.

And then he’d made a mistake; to this day, he wasn’t sure exactly what. He had ideas, but hell, he could be totally off base.

Sam sighed. For the past few months, Linda’d lived out of state with a sister, and this morning, he’d had her in his arms again. She’d trusted him to hold her. The sound of her low voice, her citrus-lavender scent, her yielding body had been even better than his memories. Until she’d pushed him away.

As Sam approached the picnic table, Nolan looked up. From a small cooler, the hard-faced Dom removed a Mountain Dew and handed it over. “Figured you’d need something to wipe the taste out of your mouth. How’d the trial go?”

“The goddamned defense attorney took his questions into the gutter trying to shake her. Bad enough she gets raped by the slavers. To get raped again by a sleazy interrogation?” Sam popped the top as he sat. The icy drink washed the bitterness from his throat. “I wanted to shove a boot in his foul mouth.”

And then rip apart the balding slaver who’d killed the youngster. Holly had only been nineteen—the same age as his little girl. “I’m an adult now, Daddy,” his pretty Nicole often reminded him. He growled under his breath. No matter what the law said, his daughter’s life had barely begun. And because of the slavers, one young woman wouldn’t grow any older. The police had found Holly’s body in a ravine where the killer had dumped her like garbage.

But after Linda’s testimony, Sam had seen the bastard’s conviction in the jurors’ faces. And he wouldn’t live long—not once the other prisoners saw pictures of the sweet-faced college student. “Linda held up like a trouper.”

“May have less muscles, but women got more guts than most men.”

“True.” They’d endure where a man would give up and die.

As a light breeze swept the park with the scent of brine, Sam listened to the children on the swing set.

“Push me.”

“Look how high I can go.”

He relaxed. He’d needed the reminder of happiness. “Why the park?”

Nolan jerked his chin to the left. “Great scenery.”

Sam followed his gaze. Beth, Nolan’s submissive, knelt nearby, planting bright yellow flowers in a newly tilled garden. The glint of her red hair reminded him how Linda’s thick mane had brushed his fingers when he held her shoulders. Her hair had grown.

Nolan’s contented, possessive smile sent envy through Sam. He’d never had that kind of happiness with a woman. Probably never would since just the thought of his ex-wife drove ice shards into his gut. But he had a good life now. Wanting more would be stupid. “Beth ignoring you?”

“No. I brought her lunch and made her take a break. She just went back to work.” Nolan glanced at Sam. “You going to go after that submissive? Linda, right?”

“She’s not interested.” But dammit, the way she’d clung to him said otherwise.

“Want to tell me why not?”

Nolan’s sub had been abused. He might have advice. Didn’t matter. “No.”

“And they say I’m closemouthed.”

Sam shrugged. Nolan didn’t like to talk. Period. Sam just didn’t talk about personal shit. Too risky. Back in ’Nam, trails often held trip wires and mines. He’d seen friends blown to bits. Then when he married, he’d learned booby traps could be made of confidences. Could kill the spirit instead.

And wasn’t he a bitter fool on a sunny day? He nodded at the rolled-up sheaf of paper sitting on the table. “The plans?”

“Yep. If they suit you, I can have the concrete guys start in another week.” Nolan spread the paper out on the rough wood. “I think you’ll like the suggestions the architect made.”

Sam rose to take a better look. Good timing for this. Construction of a new stable would keep him busy for a while. Give Linda a chance to settle back into her life.

Then he’d see what was what.

As the breeze off the Gulf toyed with her hair, Linda wiggled her toes in the sand and listened to the hissing of the waves on the shore. Compared to the energetic Pacific Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico was wonderfully peaceful. Yet she felt distant, as if she were watching life through a frosted window in a frigid alpine castle. “Nice place.”

Kim was settled in a weathered Adirondack chair with her German shepherd sprawled at her feet. “It is. I love Raoul’s house, but his beach here is what saved my sanity.” Her black hair spilled down her back as she tipped her face up to the sun. “Sooo, was Sam at the courthouse?”

Odd how even her anger felt bottled up. “I should wallop you for telling him.” But how could she be mad? She and Kim had been slaves together, and then Kim had risked her life to free Linda. “Yes, he was at the courthouse.”

And he’d been more overwhelming than she remembered. Heavens, if she had to see him again, couldn’t he have been…less? Less strong, less commanding. In the last few months, couldn’t he have picked up a potbelly and sagging chest?

Or at least been a jerk? Instead, he’d simply held her. He’d shown up just to be there for her, and how was she supposed to deal with that?

“I’m surprised he made it. Over the winter, he got grumpy.” Kim dug her toes into the sand and flicked some at Linda. “Okay, more grumpy than normal. Raoul says he hardly leaves his place except for business.”

“Place?”

“Bunch of acres. A ranch or farm or something.”

A rancher. She might have guessed. When several gulls started bickering in loud screeches over a washed-up fish, the dog raised his head, ears pricked, his whole body tensing. He gave Kim an entreating look.

“Oh, fine. Go chase the birds.” As the dog launched into action, Kim smiled at Linda. “We don’t let Ari chase the other shorebirds, but gulls are fair game.”

As the dog ran up the beach, gulls flapped into the air with annoyed squawks, and Linda relaxed. Thank you, Ari, for changing the subject . Even with someone as understanding as Kim, she didn’t want to discuss Sam. She sighed. If he’d simply whipped her at the slave auction, she’d have no problems sharing with Kim, but the damage he’d caused hadn’t been from his whipping her. It hadn’t been physical.