His skeptical expression was worrisome, but at least he didn’t ask more questions. Maybe because she looked so battered or maybe because she wasn’t his submissive to interrogate. Either way, thank you, little baby Jesus.

“As long as it’s only memories.” Simon’s dark brows were together. “If not, I expect you to call me. You’ll dial 9-1-1 if you need to, correct?”

Whoa, there was the perfect lead-in to what she needed to know. “Sure. On the other hand, I’ve heard not all law enforcement officers are trustworthy. Of course, maybe that’s only a Texas problem. Is California better?”

“Doubtful,” Rona said. After serving Simon, she put a piece of pizza on a plate and set it in front of Lindsey. “They recently indicted two customs agents for taking bribes.”

Dammit. “Well, there you go,” she said glumly. “Can’t nobody be trusted.”

“It seems so, doesn’t it? However some occupations are more trustworthy than others.” Xavier seated his wife and sat down beside Lindsey. “Like social workers. Simon said you have an MSW in social work with a small amount of experience and no credentials.”

She gave Simon a frown. “Do y’all gossip about me all the time?”

“In spare moments, child. You’re too young to take up much time.”

Under his amused gaze, she could only laugh and turn back to Xavier. “That’s right. Why?”

“I could use someone with your background in Stella’s Employment Services.” Xavier leaned back in his chair, studying her. “You’d help match up women with jobs and point them toward new career choices.”

She nodded. She could do that.

“There would be a small amount of travel to women’s shelters for the same type of assistance. In fact, a friend has requested Stella’s for a shelter she recently acquired.”

“I don’t have a license—”

“That’s not a concern. The shelters have clinical psychologists on staff. Even so, we’ve found filling out applications and looking for work can be more emotional than you’d expect.”

Oh, she knew all about emotional. Realizing a life was not only ripped up, but years were lost, never to be replaced. Childhood dreams didn’t always make it into the future. “I understand completely.”

A smile flickered on his hard lips. “I thought you might. Want the job?”

She wanted to jump all over an acceptance, but… She gave him a suspicious look. “This isn’t a makeshift offer to keep Abby from nagging at you?”

“She hasn’t nagged me since I hung a ball gag by the bed.”

From Abby came a muttered nasty word.

After kissing the top of Abby’s head, he gave Lindsey a level look. “It’s not makeshift work. I can use you if you’re up for it. And, quite honestly, I think you’d be excellent.”

Her smile couldn’t be restrained. “In that case, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

***

“…and then I’ll cut her up so bad that even in hell, Victor will hear her screams.” The knife came down on her thumb. Cut deep. The pain…

Lindsey jerked awake, hearing her screams echoing inside the room—no, not the room, inside her head. God, God, God.

Gasping for breath, she fumbled beside her pillow, found the lamp, and turned it on. The bare room took form around the pile of bedding she’d used for her bed. No Travis. No knife. She was in San Francisco. In Abby’s duplex.

With a shuddering breath, she struggled to a sitting position and forced herself to look down. The ancient secondhand flannel shirt was white and blue and damp with only sweat—she wasn’t covered in Victor’s blood.

Her thumb—she flexed her fingers—was fine. Okay. Okay. Just a dream.

As her breath hitched, she laid her head on her knees…and cried.

Eventually, she realized light was seeping under the curtains onto the glossy hardwood floor. Dawn had arrived. Thank you, God. The door to the bedroom was closed, the dining room chair she’d carried upstairs was still shoved under the handle. And the idea of opening the door made fresh sweat break out on her palms.

She could almost see her daddy make a c’mon gesture with his hand. “Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway,” he’d always tell her—and she’d tease him about watching too many John Wayne movies. Except, who knew? Maybe there was a section of heaven for old cowboys.

Saddle up, girl. Picking up her tiny pocketknife, she rose, feeling every bruise from yesterday’s fight. Her cheek hurt, her hip, her arm. Once steady on her feet, she grasped the chair and set it away from the door. Her skin prickled with nerves as she opened the door. She went through every single room in the place. And found nothing.

There was no Travis Parnell lying in wait with a knife. No Ricks hiding in a closet. No gang outside on the patio.

By the time she finished, she was trembling, her insides hollowed, her bones toothpick fragile. Sinking down on the steps, she leaned against the railing. Hell of a way to start a morning.

After a few minutes, she straightened. Time to set up her computer and make coffee. She could shower when she wasn’t feeling so antsy.

Later, the movers would come. Damn and bless Xavier. She smiled ruefully. After everyone left yesterday, she’d found a note propped on the kitchen counter. Movers are scheduled to arrive with your furniture tomorrow at ten. Don’t bother to argue; I won’t listen. Xavier.

Overprotective, managing Doms were something else. She huffed in exasperation, recalling when Rona and Abby had helped transport her furniture to the storage unit, she’d given Abby the spare key…and now Xavier had it. Sneaky, wonderful friends.

The secondhand furniture she’d bought last summer would look nice here. Her white linen couch and chairs should go well with the delicate floral wallpaper, whitewashed fireplace, worn needlepoint carpet in the living room. Maybe she could bring in some houseplants. With a pang of grief, she thought of the multicolored African violets at Victor’s city house, and the spider and snake plants at the ranch. “And how are my spiders and snakes today?” she’d ask them. Had they all died?

With a frown, she glanced at the second floor. The large bedroom up there would easily hold her rather battered bed, dresser, and nightstands. She bit her lip, remembering with what hopes she’d bought the secondhand furniture, imagining how a Dom might use the four-poster bed frame. Dreaming of deVries, actually, and totally wishing he was interested in her.

And now he was. “Pffft.” She could far too easily get involved with him and what? He’d had a cow just finding out she was using a fake name. He’d be thrilled at learning he was dating a murderer. The leaden feeling inside grew heavier.

More importantly, if he found out, he’d be in all sorts of danger. Not only could he be arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive, but if he did anything to help her, Travis might kill him.

She was finding it difficult enough to not tell her friends everything. DeVries would push far, far harder. And she was so damned lonely.

I want to go home. To Texas. To spend the holidays with Mama and Mandy and Melissa.

Instead, she’d be at Xavier’s house for Thanksgiving, bless Abby’s heart. And before Christmas, some of the Dark Haven people were going to the Hunt brothers’ wilderness lodge outside Yosemite. This time, though, there wouldn’t be any Doms versus submissives games. She rolled her eyes, remembering how deVries had shot her with the water pistol, winning a blowjob and anal sex from her.

The mountain winter season would be quieter, she figured. She’d have time to play with Logan and Becca Hunt’s baby boy who’d be a few months old now. Such a cute age. Her little niece had only been a couple months old when Lindsey had fled Texas. I’ve missed nearly her whole first year.

That was water under the bridge, right? Time to get to work. She could almost see her daddy nod approval, doing his usual John Waynism, “When you stop fighting, that’s death.”

“I know, Daddy. I’m working on it.” Lindsey pushed herself off the stairs. First step as always in a new home was to set up the hiding place. She trotted into the bedroom and dug through her overnight bag for the fake smoke detector.

Victor’s USB flash drives were still tucked into the empty plastic disk. She’d taken them from the ranch drive, hopeful they’d contain evidence against Victor, Travis, and Ricks. The border patrol agent had certainly wanted to get his hands on the drives. But no one really knew what Victor had stored on them—the memory on each device had been encrypted. Talk about a letdown.

So her job was to figure out the password.

After installing the smoke-detector-safe inside her bedroom door, she set up her laptop on the dining room table. She had a ton of articles to read on password cracking.

She glared at the screen for a second. Why did all those television shows make hacking look so easy? It really wasn’t.

But if she opened Victor’s flash drives, and if they held the evidence of smuggling, she could send the contents everywhere. To the police, every single Homeland Security department, and maybe even the newspapers. Someone, surely, would arrest Parnell—even if he was chief of police, and Ricks—even if he was a border patrol agent.

They didn’t deserve those respectful titles. They deserved nothing good. Ever. And her mission was to send them to jail where they’d never hurt anyone again.

Maybe once they were taken care of, she could restart her life, free of fear. Free of waiting for someone to either arrest her or kill her. Or…her skin turned clammy as she thought of Travis Parnell, Victor’s brother. If he caught her, he’d torture her before he murdered her.