Cherise Sinclair - If only

He met her gaze, and his smile faded. “You’ve been crying.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As his attention focused completely on her, she felt as if she were being blasted with a fire hose, destroying her balance and pushing her backward. His darkly tanned face turned stern. “I thought Vance and Galen would be good for you, Sally. I’m sorry to discover I was mistaken.”

“They were good—I mean, I think they’re trying to protect me.”

His eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Does that mean you are still with them?”

“Um, kind of?”

“Explain, please,” he said softly, an underlying anger threading his voice.

But she couldn’t let him be mad at her Feds. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Because they told me to stay away, I thought I’d done something wrong, so I didn’t”—she felt the prickling of tears again—“I didn’t say anything. Didn’t argue. And they were at work, so…maybe that’s why they didn’t explain, and I’m not sure, but I think they’re sending me away to keep me safe.”

“I see.” His eyes filled with disapproval, and he was looking at her. “You didn’t tell them how you felt. Again.”

“N-no.” She pulled in a breath and fessed up. “I was going to just…just leave.” Without making them explain. Without fighting. “I’m an idiot.”

“Good relationships don’t have exit signs, pet,” Master Z murmured, confirming her statement. He put his arms around her and drew her close, wiping out her sense of failure. “Little one, now that you understand, will you be able to talk to them?”

“Yeah,” she whispered into his shirt. The strong arms around her were safety, reassurance, everything she’d never had from her father. Falling down in life was inevitable, and sure, a tough girl kept going anyway. But after collecting bruises and scraped knees, who wouldn’t cherish a helping hand or two? “Yeah, I definitely am.”

“Excellent. However, if they’re worried about your safety, you shouldn’t go there. I’ll arrange for them to come here tomorrow so you can talk.” He gave her a squeeze. “Good girl.”

His approval filled her sails, and she felt as if she were skimming over the water. With a contented sigh, she dared to hug him back.

Galen knew the photos of the cops, blackened and curled into fetal postures, and even worse, of the young brutalized woman, were going to haunt his dreams. Or nightmares.

Maybe he’d not bother to even attempt to sleep.

In the darkness, he walked the lakeshore path, checking their property for intrusions. A gray shadow in the night, Glock padded behind him, in case an evil rodent escaped the human’s scrutiny.

Galen shook his head. Glock had wandered the house earlier in search of the female who pampered him, carried him, and, even worse, included him in conversations.

When caught trying to explain Sally’s absence…to a cat…Galen had shrugged and given his partner a rueful grin. Did the imp know how much a part of their life she’d become? How she was changing them?

He sighed, fighting the longing to see her.

She was far safer away from him and Vance, but every instinct in his body urged him to keep her close where he could protect her.

His jaw tightened. Once he and Vance had reached home, they’d talked about her. And realized she hadn’t argued. That wasn’t like her.

And yet, he was relieved that she’d agreed so easily. Sally could raise stubborn to a whole new level. If she was so angry with them that she wasn’t talking to them, at least she wasn’t here in the kill zone, trying to change their minds.

The sound of a vehicle on the road made him turn. From the rumble of the engine, he’d guess it was a truck.

“Let’s go see who’s visiting, Glock.”

THE HOUSE WAS too quiet. Trying to work, Vance kept listening for Sally’s quick footsteps. The little submissive rarely walked slowly—sometimes he swore she actually vibrated with all that energy.

Fuck, he missed her already.

At a knock on the front door, he strode out to the foyer. This wouldn’t be Sally. She still had a key. But his hopes drove him into haste, and he swung the door open without looking.

A fist slammed into his jaw.

The force of the blow—and the flare of pain—knocked him back several steps. “What the hell?” Shaking his head to throw off the effects, he saw a man completely filling the doorway. “Cullen?”

“I warned you not to fuck with her.” Cullen took a step into the room.

“Hit me too.” From outside, Galen pushed past the furious Dom to stand beside Vance. “We both agreed to send her away.”

“You fucking assholes.” Cullen’s hands were still in fists. He took a step forward. “She’s beautiful, spirited, intelligent. And you hurt her badly.”

“Hurt?” The word was like a blow in Vance’s chest. “Maybe she’s angry that we told her to stay away, but—”

“Stay away?” Cullen growled. “You dumped her, and she blames herself. Thinks she did something wrong.”

Goddamn it all. “We didn’t—” He turned to Galen and saw matching alarm in his expression. “She thinks we dumped her?”

“Christ, no wonder she didn’t argue,” Galen muttered. He pulled out his cell.

Vance could hear the sound of ringing…and ringing…and the tinny voice mail response. His hands clenched. She’d turned her phone off.

Galen spoke into his phone. “Sally, we are not—I repeat—not breaking up. Try it and I’ll paddle your ass. Call me. Now.”

Cullen snorted, but a grin pulled at his wide mouth. “That was diplomatic.”

Fuck. Vance stared at his partner. “Next time, I do the talking, you asshole.” In fact, he’d call her himself and leave his own message.

“So why the hell did you pull that stunt to begin with?” Cullen asked. He leaned back on the door frame and crossed his arms, one immovable object not about to leave until he got answers. He looked at Galen. “Seriously, buddy, she’s really hurt.”

“Better she be hurt than dead,” Galen snapped.

“Dead.” Cullen straightened. “Explain.”

Despite the ache in his chest, Vance huffed a laugh. Mistake, friend. Never give Galen an opening like that. Another special agent once said Vance might charm his way into heaven, but given time and opportunity, Galen would talk his way out of hell.

Shaking his head, Vance headed for the kitchen to fetch beer. If he and Galen hadn’t been ordered to remain at home, he’d haul ass to Dan’s house so he could talk to Sally in person. Reassure her; comfort her.

Hold her. Jesus, fuck, he needed to hold her. He took out his phone and dialed Dan’s number.

Dan Sawyer walked through the quiet night, the sound of his footsteps and the clicking scratch of Prince’s claws louder than the tree frogs and the distant hum of traffic. The German shepherd took the lead, anointing lampposts, terrifying cats, and inspecting the dark yards. A canine version of a uniformed cop walking a neighborhood beat.

Dan and Kari lived in a cul-de-sac of older homes, and she knew every single person. Hell, she’d probably baked cookies for each of them, one time or another. He smiled. His wife had the most generous nature of anyone he knew.

At the corner, he gave a whistle for the dog and headed back. Near the end of the block, their two-story house showed only a light on the porch and in the living room. Upstairs was dark. She’d already gone to bed.

Disappointment slowed his gait. With Zane gone for the night, Dan had wanted to talk a bit about their relationship. About what was missing.

But no, that wouldn’t be fair. She’d been very clear she wanted a vanilla lifestyle. No more D/s.

And he’d do whatever she wanted. Hell, he’d screwed up her life more than enough as it was. His carelessness had made her a mother years before she’d wanted to be one.

Of course—he smiled slightly—she seemed to have forgiven him for that. Zane was irresistible, after all.

But the way Zane had arrived… Fuck, he’d heard people talk about labor. They’d never talked about a small woman trying to birth a big baby. Jesus, the labor had been so fast and brutal her body had actually ripped from the birth. And he could do nothing—nothing—to help.

She’d been miserable afterward. Stitches—actual stitches in her pussy. Hurting. Couldn’t even sit comfortably. Exhausted. Depressed. She’d cried the first few times they’d made love—and not with happy tears. But, brave woman, she was the one to insist they keep going.

At least they’d gotten past that, but he missed the extra element the D/s dynamic had brought into their lives.

He was a selfish bastard, wanting it all. But, if vanilla was what she needed, he loved her enough to accept her wishes.

After holding the door for the dog, Dan closed and locked it, turned, and stopped.

Kari stood in the living room. She had a determined tilt to her pretty round chin and her mouth set in a straight line.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I thought you’d be in bed.”

Her lip wobbled, and she bit it—damn, he wanted to be the one biting it. “I’d rather be here.”

“You’re not sleepy yet? Would you like some wine or—”

“No!” The sharpness of her voice was a slap in the face. He’d heard that tone from her only once—at the Shadowlands the night she’d given up on him. She’d thrown her wrist cuffs at him and told him she deserved better than him. “I’m going to find someone who will appreciate me.”

Worry tightened his gut. “Something has been bothering you. About us. Am I right?” Please, God, let her say no. True, he felt like an asshole for getting her pregnant, but he’d never been so happy. Never been loved so sweetly. His life was filled with the sound of Zane’s joyful gurgle, of Kari’s sweet laughter. “Let’s—” He forced himself to say the words. “Let’s hear it, sweetheart.”