Masters 02 Master of the Abyss (28 page)

“Well, bro, if you hadn’t been trying to run up my ass, you’d have had time to stop.” As he’d done all the way down, Jake turned to help her over a log, and she took comfort from each time his warm hand closed over her cold one.

A few minutes later, a couple of deputies rushing up the trail barreled into Virgil, and after some discussion, turned around and accompanied the group back down.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Kallie felt as if she had five pounds of mud dragging down each boot. Jake put his arm around her, and she gratefully sagged against him.

They stepped out into a world of flashing lights and noise. A short distance away, two officers blocked Wyatt and Morgan from the trail, and her cousins sounded ready to explode.

Thor gave a sharp bark, attracting everyone’s attention, and within a second, far too many people converged on them. To Kallie’s relief, Virgil pulled his brothers and the cops off to one side, leaving her with Jake and Logan.

Logan stopped in the center of the gravel yard, and Thor waited beside him, tail drooping in exhaustion. “You heading back now, Jake?”

Stay here. Please
. Kallie took a breath and released it slowly, then tried to move away.
He should go. Don’t start this all over again.

Jake tightened his arm around her. “Thanks, but no. I have a few problems to deal with here.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to her, and after a moment, he glanced at Jake. “Understood. Call if you need anything.”

“Thanks, bro.” Jake’s voice softened. “Seriously.”

Logan lifted a hand. “Part of the brotherly job description.” He touched her hair gently. “Night, sugar.”

“Good night, Logan,” Kallie managed. “Thank you.”

She bent to stroke Thor’s soft fur and whisper, “Thank you, Thor.” He licked her cheek. Logan stopped to speak to Virgil briefly; then he and Thor climbed into his vehicle.

As the sound of Logan’s truck faded, Virgil left the police and walked over. “You’re free to go, Jake, but you’ll need to come in to the station tomorrow to give a statement.”

“I appreciate the reprieve, but I’m not leaving yet. I’ll help Kallie shower, and then—”

Kallie’s mouth dropped open even as Virg’s brows lowered, and he said, “Not going to happen.”

“Which one of you men will help her?” Jake glanced down at her. “I’ve seen her naked before, you know.”

Kallie stiffened. “Jake, dammit.”

Red stained Virgil’s face, and he ran his hand through his hair. “Hell. Fine.”

“Afterward, I’d appreciate if you could get everyone into the living room.”

“For what, exactly?” Virg asked sarcastically.

“We’re going to discuss some misguided perceptions and sacrificial lambs.”

Kallie had lost track of the conversation as she tried to keep her legs from buckling.

Virgil said slowly, “I didn’t like that either. But”—he glanced over at the other cops—“later?”

“Right now. At this time, we might be able to get through. Maybe. Not later.”

“What are you two talking about?” Kallie asked, locking her knees.

Virgil didn’t answer. He studied her for a second. “I can take some time if I make a quick report to the chief. I’ll leave clean clothes for you outside Kallie’s door, and we’ll see you downstairs.”

“Good.” When Jake turned Kallie toward the house, she stumbled. With a huff of laughter, he scooped her into his arms. “You’re exhausted, sprite. Where’s your room?”

You have to let him go
. “I can get there myself.”

“Nope.”

As Jake hauled her across the yard, she saw Virgil intercept Wyatt and Morgan before they could get to her.

Despite his limp, Jake carried her all the way up the stairs. After setting her on her feet, he flipped on the lights in her bedroom and looked around.

She sighed. She’d left her new red underwear on the dark blue carpet, flannel shirts tossed over the desk chair, a stack of books beside the bed. In one corner, a table held her carving tools and projects…and shavings circled the area like snow. Martha Stewart would cringe. “Sorry about the mess.”

“As long as the bed fits us both, I’m happy.”

The thought of not being alone… She leaned her forehead against his chest. “Thank you. For staying.”

He shook his head. “No thanks needed, but we definitely have some talking to do. For now, let’s clean up.”

“I shower alone.” She caught the amusement in his eyes and glared at him.

“Uh-uh, little sub,” he murmured. He pulled her against him, careful but firm. “Are you allowed to glare at your dom?”

My dom
? A curl of warmth eased the cold inside her. “You’re not my dom.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, he brushed his lips across hers. “Shower, sprite,” he whispered.

In her bathroom, he looked around slowly. “Nice.”

“The guys remodeled it when I was fourteen.” She’d lived with them for only six months and had expected them to send her away at any time. But when her history class had gone on a three-day field trip, she’d returned to find it like this. Pale blue floral wallpaper, dark blue countertop, amazing lighting. A walk-in shower with delicate flowers decorating the tile. An oversize tub. A very feminine bathroom—they’d done it just for her. Like she was going to stay. When the four big men had beamed at her, she’d almost cried.

Over the years, she’d changed very little. In this one place, she could believe she was a woman, not one of the boys.

“It suits you, sweetheart,” Jake said and efficiently divested her of her dirty, bloody clothing.

He opened the smoky glass shower door and turned on the water. Steam rose in the cool air. Jake stripped and stepped into the shower with her, never letting go of her arm.

As the spray hit her, she sighed. So warm.

Jake washed her carefully, his big hands gentle on her scrapes and sore spots. He growled at the undoubtedly huge bruise in the center of her back. She remembered the feel of Andrew’s boot, his weight on her, and cringed.

“Shhh, Kalinda, it’s over.” He moved on, washing thoroughly, not turning it into anything sexual, then washed her hair. Afterward he scrubbed himself down, and the fragrance of her herbal soap mingled with his masculine scent.

He dried her as carefully as he’d washed her.

“I can do it myself,” she protested. “I live here, so I should be taking care of you.” She tried to take the towel.

“Not this time. Your turn will come.”

Ignoring her protests, he tucked her into her heavy terrycloth bathrobe and ran a finger down her cheek. “It pleases me to care for you, sprite. I came too close to losing you.” His eyes darkened, and he pulled her into his arms, squeezing the breath from her. “God, that was too close.”

When he released her, she clung for a moment, then pushed away and stood on her own. If only she didn’t feel so damn tired. And shaky.
I need to call Rebecca and request some big-girl panties.

Jake retrieved the black sweatpants and T-shirt that Virgil had left at her door and dressed quickly. Ignoring her objections, he scooped her up again to carry her downstairs.

She seemed to weigh nothing in his embrace and felt almost fragile. Precious. Every time he remembered how she’d knelt and offered herself to save Virgil, his anger flared, and he wanted to kill the bastard again.

The living room was empty, the silence broken only by the faint noise of people in the kitchen and the ticking of a mantel clock. After glancing around, he chose an oversize chair and then settled Kallie on his lap so she could lean against his chest.

Morgan must have heard them. He crossed the room to yell out the front door for his brother, and a minute later, Virgil came in, filthy and exhausted.

From the kitchen, Wyatt brought mugs of hot chocolate. Jake took one and set it on the adjacent table, then accepted the other and sipped to check the temperature. Just right and liberally laced with Baileys Irish Cream.

“Here you go, sprite,” he said, letting her curl her fingers around the mug but keeping a grip when her hands trembled. She closed her eyes as she sipped, and her long eyelashes made a dark smudge against her pale cheeks. His heart contracted. He wanted to take her upstairs and simply hold her.

But he was also her dom, whether she’d accepted it or not. Much like intense BDSM scenes, painful, frightening events could uncover tears in the soul. Somewhere, something in her past had convinced her that she didn’t belong anywhere—that no one loved her—although anyone seeing her family knew different.

Tomorrow he and her cousins might tell her how they felt, but her heart would be guarded again. Tonight, perhaps, they had a chance of getting through. Perhaps.

He felt like he was setting out poorly equipped for a mission. To try to mend such a long-held belief? He had half a mind to wait and push her into seeing a counselor. Yet was there ever a wrong time to hear you were loved?

Virgil had chosen the couch, Morgan a chair. Muttering under his breath, Wyatt dropped into another chair and scowled at Jake. He obviously didn’t like seeing Kallie in Jake’s arms or the way he’d assumed control. “Listen, Hunt, this—”

“Shut. Up.” Jake shot him an even look. “Up on the mountain, Kallie told Secrist it wouldn’t matter if she died, that she’d never belonged anywhere.” He took her cocoa and set it on the adjacent table.

Wyatt’s mouth opened. Then his brows drew together. He exchanged a dismayed look with Morgan. “But—”

This time Wyatt stopped when Jake frowned.

Jake looked down at Kallie. Exhausted, fading in and out, although light tremors still shook her body. Her exhaustion had caught up. “Sprite.”

She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze not quite focused. “Uh-huh?”

“Tell me where you went after you left your stepfather.”

“Now? But—”

“Don’t think; just tell me.” To better evaluate her responses, he slid his hand between the buttons of her robe. With his palm on her upper abdomen and fingertips between her small breasts, he could feel her relaxed stomach muscles and slow heartbeat.

“I went to live with Aunt Penny.”

“Why’d you leave?”

Every muscle under his hand tensed, and the hurt that gathered in her eyes tore at his heart. She shrugged. “She sent me to Teresa—got tired of me, I guess.”

“What? No,” Morgan said loudly enough to make her startle. Her cousin jumped to his feet. “No, that’s not true.” Moving closer, he stared at her. “Jesus, Kallie, didn’t anyone tell you? She was terrified Charles would hurt you.”

Kallie blinked and frowned up at Morgan, unable to understand what he meant. “Charles never hurt…” Well, maybe her big cousin had slapped her once because she’d spilled her milk. “But why?”

“He’s bipolar. Hell, right after you left, he beat up a kid at school so bad the kid went to the hospital. Penny said he’d just…lose it sometimes.”

Bipolar
? Kallie tried to think, but her thoughts tangled as if caught in underbrush. Charlie was bipolar? He’d been a teenager. Maybe he’d gotten a little…weird. Lost his temper. Threw things, usually at her. “I thought he didn’t like me. I was so clumsy.”

“No,” Wyatt burst out.

Morgan shot him a silencing glare, then took her hand. “Kallie, he cried when you left. He’d refused to admit anything was wrong, and so had Penny. But then he hit you…” His lips pressed together. “Yeah, well, he got a psych doctor who figured out what was wrong and put him on medication. Aunt Penny bawled for—hell, forever—at losing you. But she had to work and couldn’t trust Charlie to watch you after school. Not when he was so messed up.”

Oh
. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. Aunt Penny hadn’t wanted her to go? Charlie had cried because she’d left? In her head, the murky picture of her aunt with a cold, hard face and her angry cousin lightened and changed until tears filled their eyes. Sadness.
Oh.

Morgan squeezed her hand. “Let me tell you—”

“Later,” Jake said, silencing her cousin. “She’ll want more later. Right now, I want to hear about—”

“Who the hell do you think you are, Hunt?” Wyatt snapped, not Virgil, who she’d thought would object first. “And get your hands off her.”

Kallie suddenly realized Jake had his hand flattened on her stomach, his fingers between her breasts. She shook her head at him.

He didn’t move. His eyes never left hers, intent, so very blue. “I’m the man who fought a killer for her.”

Her mind replayed the way he’d come out of nowhere to slam into Andrew—he could have died. She started to shake again. He shifted, holding her closer, with his hand still warm on her bare skin. She tried to push at it.

“Uh-uh, sprite,” he said softly, and she gave up, too lost in the warmth of his gaze to argue.

“So,” he said, his voice as easy as if they’d simply gotten together for a beer at the ClaimJumper. “After Penny, who’d you live with?”

Why did he keep asking about her past? She frowned, trying to understand why he was—

His chin rose, and his eyes hardened. His voice deepened, “You will answer me. Now.”

Wyatt made an angry sound even as her words spilled out. “I went to Aunt Teresa and Uncle Pete.”

“Good place?” he asked, his fingers rubbing her cheek for a moment before dropping back down to lie as warm as a blanket on her chest.

She remembered the sound of children laughing, bickering, Aunt T singing as she cooked. Pete coming home from work, roaring, “
Who has a kiss for an old man
?” Her lips curved for a second. “Yes. I loved it there.”

“So what happened? Why didn’t you stay?”

The hurt slammed into her like a car wreck. She tried to sit up, and the hand on her chest held her down, keeping her still. She shoved at it again. “I don’t—”

“Go on, sprite. Tell me.”

“They moved.” She pressed her lips together as she remembered how Teresa had put her on the plane. Hugged her. Just a vacation, she’d thought. “They sent me here and didn’t want me back in the new place.”

“That would hurt,” Jake said softly. “How come?”

The comforting tone in his voice did her in, and her eyes filled. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I did wrong. Nobody ever lo—” But no, Aunt Penny had loved her. Morgan said so. She’d cried. Kallie blinked, confused.