Safe Harbor (20 page)

* * * *

“Then what happened?” Clarisse asked.

Mac shrugged and took another swallow of his beer. “We went to sleep and woke up the next morning, both of us sort of uncomfortable.

His painkillers had worn off and I thought, ‘Oh shit, I hope I didn’t screw things up.’ We talked, kept talking. It was a long road between then and now. A good road. Not a perfect one. We’re like anyone else with a relationship. There’s good and bad times. In our case, very few bad and minor compared to many people’s problems. The good always makes it worth it.”

Mac looked normal, natural in a collar, nipple rings, and nothing else. He damn sure had the body for it. “How did you become his slave?”

“That happened early on. I ran naked out of the bathroom one day to grab the phone and he joked that he liked the look on me. I started walking around naked.” He smiled as he took another swallow. “That led to more interesting things.”

“But how did you know you were submissive?”

“How do you know you’re a girl? I’m not like this with everyone, if you haven’t noticed. Only him. Even then, we switch it up a little.

On the boat, I top and he bottoms.”

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“You mean he’s your slave.”

“Fuck no. He’s always my Master. Top and bottom can be different from Dom and sub or Master and slave. He lets me top on the boat. I get to call the shots. Like the day we found you, he’s still my Master and I defer to him. He would never try to get his way while we play when I’m topping. That goes back to trust. That lets me get my needs taken care of to be in charge, lets him relax and turn over control in a safe way.”

She scrubbed her face with her hands. “I don’t understand why you only want to be in control sometimes.”

“When we didn’t have the boat, we had a different arrangement, like one weekend a month or something, we’d switch. I like that structure, knowing that in certain cases, this is what I am and do and the rest of the time it’s all him. I loved that about the Army, the protocol, the procedures. I hated some of the assholes I worked under and getting my fucking ass shot at. Master gives me what I need and want.”

“That didn’t answer my question about how you knew.”

He shrugged. “I loved taking care of him, being there for him. I didn’t want to stop. As he healed, I started doing other things for him.

Let him focus on his writing and, later, the classes he taught. It made me happy. It made him happy. Hell, if you’d told me a few years ago I’d be happy doing this, I’d have said you were nuts. Much less that it was with a guy.” His brow furrowed in concentration.

“Master and I…fuck labels. They’re just that, better for clothing or food contents than people. We’re not gay. We don’t go lusting after guys. If we see a cute guy, yeah, sure, we might make a comment to each other. It’s not like my dick hardens. A beautiful woman walks by, honey, my dick stands up. So does Master’s.”

He met her eyes as she felt molten heat pool between her legs. “I look into Master’s eyes and I want to drop to my knees and beg him to fuck me. He’s the only guy that does that to me. You walk by and my dick screams for attention and tries to talk me into fucking you.

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Believe me, I wish I could, because I would in a heartbeat.” He finished the beer before standing and walking out to the kitchen.

His words rang in her ears. They weren’t gay.

Numb shock washed through her system. When a wild-assed hope from far left field popped its head up and screamed for attention, she beat it back. She didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to hang her hat on impossible hopes and have her heart broken. Sully and Mac were devoted to each other. Only a moron could miss that.

She wished they felt like that about her.

* * * *

Sully felt his BlackBerry vibrate next to him on the bed, rousting him from his nap. Without looking, he fumbled for it and answered.

“Nicoletto.”

“Hey, Sul. It’s Jason.”

Sully flexed his leg. It hurt, but not as bad as the other day.

“What’s up?”

“You know me, can’t mind my own business. I’ve been doing some digging.”

“What?”

“I found out something interesting about Officer Bryan Jackson.”

Sleep left Sully’s system. “What?”

“Ed and Lorraine Moore died in a tragic hit and run accident three years ago. Their car plunged off an embankment one evening. Paint scrapes showed another vehicle was involved.”

Sully rolled over. Jason had his full and undivided attention.

“Clarisse’s parents?”

“Yeah. That same day, about an hour before the accident scene was discovered, Officer Jackson reported his car stolen. Never recovered.”

Sully chewed that over in his mind. “Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah. Get this. I requested the accident report from the Licking

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County sheriff’s office up there. One witness reported a car the same color as Jackson’s car leaving the area about the time the accident would have happened, but it was dark and they didn’t get a tag or make-model or see the accident happen.”

“He killed them?”

“He had an alibi. He was sitting in the station, filling out a report on the car. Before that, he’s on surveillance video shopping at Wal-Mart, complete with a time-date-stamped credit card receipt. His car was stolen from the lot, also caught on video, but the perp was never identified.”

“No one ever thought to put that shit together?”

“Jackson’s father and the police chief of that charming little hamlet went to school together.”

Sully closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Clarisse received a hundred-grand life insurance payout when they died.”

“He might have known that since they dated for a couple of years before.”

“Most likely. Son of a bitch.”

If she’d stayed, how much longer until Clarisse would have met with an “accident”? More importantly, how much danger was she in now that she’d pressed charges against Jackson?

* * * *

After dinner, Clarisse curled up on one end of the couch to watch TV. Sully emerged from his office. “Mind if I join you?”

“It’s your house.”

He settled on the far end of the couch. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She tried to focus on the show and not Sully’s presence.

After a few minutes, Mac finished cleaning up the kitchen and joined them. Instead of sitting on the couch, he sat on the floor by Sully.

Clarisse felt her heart skip as she watched Sully tenderly stroke Mac’s hair. Mac’s eyes dropped closed as he settled against Sully’s

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leg.

She wanted that. The bond, the closeness. The tenderness.

The love.

She found it difficult to focus on the TV show. Part of her wanted to crawl across the couch and snuggle with Sully.

When the show ended, Sully tapped Mac’s shoulder. Mac startled.

He’d been asleep. “Bedtime, buddy,” Sully said.

Mac sleepily nodded and stood. “Good night, sweetie,” he said to Clarisse.

“Night.”

Sully offered a smile. “See you in the morning.” Mac followed him to their bedroom, leaving Clarisse alone with her own conflicted desires.

She headed for bed with a book.
Chances Taken
, by one S. N.

MacCaffrey.

She smiled. Sully wrote under his own name too, for his nonfiction and some of his fiction. For the erotica, however, he used the pen name. This was the first chance she’d had to read any of his books. It touched her that he used Mac’s last name for his pen name.

Three hours later, Clarisse yawned, but she was so engrossed in the book she couldn’t put it down. It wasn’t just erotica, but a gut-wrenching, emotional, beautiful, and sexy romance between two men who loved each other, yet life and circumstances kept them apart.

Fortunately, it had a happily-ever-after ending. From the depth of the writing, the skill used to weave the story around the intensely erotic scenes, she knew Sully’s still waters ran deep, so to speak.

When she closed the book, she was surprised to find it almost five in the morning. She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, thinking about the book and wondering if she’d ever find
her
happily-ever-after.

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The next day, before lunch, Sully called Clarisse into his office.

He handed her a new cell phone.

“What’s this for?” She examined it, an expensive phone with all the bells and whistles.

“It’s in my name. If caller ID picks up, it shows me. I’m warning you, it’s got a GPS tracker in it I can access from my computer.”

Fear crept in. “Why?”

“I prefer to know we can find you. When the phone’s on, I can track it. If you didn’t have the issue of Bryan hanging over your head, it’d be different. I’m paying for it and you’re free to use it as much as you need. I do, however, insist on the ability to find you. You’re my responsibility. Tad would kill me if anything happened to you. Go get dressed. Jeans, nothing fancy.”

“Why?”

“You and I are going out.”

When Sully met her in the kitchen a few minutes later, he carried a metal briefcase.

This outing was apparently news to Mac as well. Mac’s eyebrows arched. “What’s going on?”

“I’m taking Clarisse out for a couple of hours. We’ll grab lunch while we’re gone. Come on, babe.”

Mac stared. “Did you want me to come?”

“You’ve got a lot to do, including finishing your month-end trip ticket paperwork, don’t you?” He held the door open for Clarisse.

“Yes, Master,” Mac said.

Clarisse followed Sully downstairs where he held the passenger

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door of the Jag open for her. He locked the briefcase in the trunk before getting behind the wheel. She noticed he’d brought his cane with him.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” A playful smile curled his lips. He winked.

“Nervous?”

“Should I be?”

He gently caught her hand and laced his fingers through hers before bringing it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand. “I promise you I would die to keep you safe.”

A deep shiver ran through her at the depth of his voice, the emotions in his words. She instinctively knew he meant it.

If she could only force her brain to accept the memo.

The XM radio in his car was tuned to the sixties channel. As they pulled out of the driveway, Sully put his sunglasses on. “Feel free to change the channel if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s fine.” She didn’t know what to talk about but didn’t feel a need to fill the silence between them, either. She had the same kind of rapport with Mac, could work side by side with him on the boat or in the kitchen without needing to talk.

Only with Mac she felt free to have a playful relationship with him, to bump hips or to spontaneously dance with him when a favorite song played on the stereo.

She wasn’t sure she should have that kind of interaction with Sully.

Then again, maybe she should tone it down with Mac, too. They weren’t her men, could never be anything but friends. To lose her heart to them, especially knowing they weren’t gay, would only cause her pain in the end.

Clarisse settled in her seat and watched the scenery pass. Thirty minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a gun store and shooting range in New Port Richey.

Nervous tension filled her. She suspected what the metal briefcase

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held. “What are we doing here?”

Without removing his sunglasses, he turned to look at her. “I need you to be able to defend yourself.”

“Why? What have you heard?” Sully had taken over and contacted the detective in charge of her case in Ohio. She knew Sully was planning for her to return to Ohio soon to speak with them, but she didn’t know any of the details.

She didn’t want to.

“Nothing. I don’t trust the slimy son of a bitch. I won’t feel comfortable giving you access to my guns without knowing you can safely handle them.”

“How many do you have?”

He smiled. “Enough.”

He walked around the front of the car to open her door for her.

She noticed he limped and put his hand on the hood and fenders to steady himself. He retrieved his cane from the backseat before getting the briefcase and a duffel bag out of the trunk. Inside, the man behind the counter smiled when he recognized Sully.

“Hey, Sul. Haven’t seen you in a couple of months.”

“Been busy, Gus.” He laid the briefcase on the counter, unlocked it, and opened it. Inside, nestled in protective foam, lay three handguns. She knew enough to recognize one was a revolver and the other two were semiautomatic pistols, but beyond that, she had no clue.

The clerk brought Sully three boxes of ammunition and several targets and rang him up. “Take your pick, they’re all open.”

“Thanks.”

Sully carried everything and led the way through a door to the shooting range. “Have you ever shot one of these before?”

“When I was a kid, Uncle Tad taught me how to shoot a pellet gun.”

“So the answer would be no?” He turned. The curl to his lips belied his words.

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She smiled. “No.”

His smile widened. “Okay.” He removed two pairs of protective glasses and shooter’s ear muffs from the duffel bag. Then he clipped one of the targets to the line and ran it down to the end of the range.

Before he even removed the trigger locks from the guns he explained them to her. One was a 9mm, the other pistol a .45, and the revolver a

.38. He explained the safety mechanisms, how to load them, how to shoot them. Then he unlocked them and demonstrated.

“I’m sure Tad explained to you to always treat any gun, even an unloaded one, as if it was loaded.”

“Yeah.”

He loaded the 9mm’s clip and put on his safety glasses and muffs.

“Put those on,” he ordered, nodding toward hers.

She did.

He told her where to stand, out of the way. Then he emptied the clip into the target. Most of the shots lay close to or inside the bull’s-eye. “Did you watch how I stood and held it?”

“Yeah.”

He removed the clip and handed it and the gun to her. “Load it.”

With trembling hands she did while Sully offered encouragement when needed. When it came time to put the clip in the gun, he laid his hands over hers.

“Remember to breathe. Then hold your breath before you pull the trigger.”

He stepped behind her and put his arms around her as she readied the gun. Clarisse fought against the urge to lean back against him, into his embrace. He helped her position her hands and arms correctly before stepping out of the way.

“Okay.”

She flicked the safety and took a deep breath, fired. The kick startled her more than the noise. The way Sully shot made it look easy. She glanced at him where he stood to the side, leaning against the partition wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded his

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approval.

She took a deep breath and over the space of a minute finished the clip, then ejected it, and laid it and the gun on the counter.

Sully nodded again and stepped in to take the gun. “Good job, sweetheart.”

Her hands throbbed. He ran the target back to them. Her shots were clearly distinct from Sully’s because hers never hit the center of the bull’s-eye. He hung a fresh target.

“What do you mean good job? My aim sucks.”

“You hit the target. I’m not entering you in the Olympics, kiddo. I want you to be able to safely handle a gun.”

“Why didn’t we bring Mac?” The look on his face when they left had bothered her. Like he felt left out.

Sully frowned, his hands hesitating only a second as he loaded the clip in the .45. “Mac hates guns.”

“He doesn’t like to shoot?”

“Flashbacks.” Sully glanced at her. “He spent three years in Iraq.”

There was a lot she didn’t know about the men. She knew Mac had been in the Army for a while, but hadn’t asked him any questions about it, sensing he didn’t like to talk about it.

“Why don’t the two of you catch a movie tonight?” Sully suggested.

“What?”

“Make it up to him for leaving him alone.”

“That’s freaking spooky.”

“What?”

“You reading my mind like that.”

He motioned for her to step back as he assumed a shooting stance.

“What can I say? It’s a Dom thing.” His mouth curled into an amused smile.

She watched as he emptied the clip. Again, all of his shots hit near or on center. He helped her load the .45 and watched her shoot it.

When she finished, she laid it on the counter.

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“Do me a favor, sweetie. Please pick up the shells. My leg’s bothering me.”

“Okay.” While she did, he reloaded the .45 for her.

“You don’t like the Sig, do you?” he asked.

“What?”

“The nine millimeter.”

“No.”

“You acted scared of it.”

She shrugged as she put the shells on the counter. He had her shoot three more clips with the .45 before switching to the revolver.

She didn’t like it much more than the 9mm, but by the time their hour ended, she realized she felt closer to Sully and more relaxed around him than she ever had before. As she helped him relock the guns and put them away, it occurred to her she hadn’t once felt nervous around him since their arrival.

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “How about we have a standing once-a-week shooting date?”

She grinned. “Date?”

He slipped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Mac gets to spend most of the time with you. Maybe I’d like the pleasure of your company once in a while.”

She sensed something deeper in his grey gaze than simple friendship. Or maybe just wishful thinking on her part? “Okay. I’d like that.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m thinking all this is overkill on my part, but it would kill me if something happened to you because I didn’t teach you what you need to know to keep yourself safe and we weren’t there to protect you.”

She allowed herself to relax in his arms, rested her forehead against his chest, and closed her eyes. Her mind drifted back to the play party, to the way Mac surrendered to him, to the trust he had in him.

How could she ever admit to him that she wished she could have

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that, too?

“Thanks, Sully.”

“Let’s go eat.” He released her and slipped his sunglasses on before gathering their things. Moment over.