Yield (29 page)

Oh.

I’d thought of that, though as yet it hadn’t seemed urgent.

A tiny frown line appeared between his eyes. “Sometime soon would be best. I’ll give Glass some names. If you don’t return to Australia soon, you should ask him to contact one of them.”

“Okay. I will.” I watched the door shut then I let the gown fall to the floor and returned to the bed. I pulled the cool sheets up over me and ignored the shaking of my arms.

So odd. Of all things, I most noticed my wish to go back to not having to choose. I wanted to hide under the sheets and not come out until I was who I used to be.

Shock, I guessed. Psychological. Not physical. I was fine in my body. The doctor was right as far as that went.

The idea of seeing someone and having to talk about this horrified me. I would weather it with Glass’s help, at least until I knew I wasn’t going to shatter if I went outside his house.

I’d been through this before, the dislocation, the weird surrealism the world assumed after a catastrophic event. I’d been under his spell for months, based all the push and the pull of my existence around him, as if he were the center of everything. I’d succumbed to his every command, every day, and I’d schemed to escape from him most days too.

Now he was gone, I felt loss. Bereaved even. The loss was as if a tumorous blackness had been removed, but it was still a loss.

When Nathan had been murdered, I’d ended up hospitalized, partly due to my father’s influence. I’d lost our baby even, one of my biggest regrets, and I’d been too drugged out, too deep in sorrow to even pay attention when it happened. Sad times. A time I never dwelt on, but now, I had that same feeling. I was no longer a part of what was real.

I’d get over it. Logically, I knew this. I had before.

Funny though. I had Glass now instead of him and suddenly I craved my sleep medication again. I was afraid I’d get up in the night, and end up somewhere I didn’t want to be.

Glass didn’t understand or know all of this but he stayed by my side, all of that first day. Most of it I spent in bed. Not surprising, I suppose.

The pile of books Glass brought, to help me relax, only resulted in me staring at them for ages as I tried to make myself pick one to read.

“None?” he asked, from where he sprawled behind me.

I shuddered and pushed the book piles away and off the bed. The piles fell, like toppling skyscrapers, to the floor.

“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Then he put his arm over me and pulled me into his body. He kissed my hair and I imagined him biting me there, on my neck, before he held me down on the bed and entered me from behind. When he didn’t, I shivered and stared at the quilt.

Things were wrong in my head.

It was only a day. Only. I needed time to heal.

Glass

Nightfall and Wren was no better, though she’d had her ups and downs throughout the day. I didn’t mind being her babysitter. I had a business that nearly ran itself by now due to having rearranged who did what during the time she had gone missing. I could rely on Pieter to kick butt if it needed doing and Jurgen filled in for pilot duty when I might have stepped up. We had spares. Shifting people and illicit cargo into and out of the top end of Australia was lucrative as hell.

All I needed to do right now was to get Wren well. To do that, I was beginning to think I would need someone who knew how to treat post-traumatic stress syndrome. But like she’d told me, it was one day only.

“You can’t hide in here forever.” I hadn’t even convinced her to sit out on the balcony with me to get some sun.

I shifted the tray with her meal onto the small table near the shuttered French doors. Then I perched on the bed beside her. At least I had her lying on top of the made bed, instead of under the sheets, and in a little yellow dress I’d found in the closet. It was a casual dress an old girlfriend had thrown on after swims. Beachwear, loose and see-through, but no one was here to see except me.

“I know. Tomorrow, I promise I will talk to Hugh.” She drew in a deep breath. “Not sure what else.”

“The Australian police will be wanting to speak to you.” I looked at her from under my brows. “You know that has to be done.”

She shuddered and rubbed her arms. “I don’t want to go back to Australia.
He
is there.”

Whenever she mentioned him, in that emphatic tone, I had to take a moment to get myself composed. Feeling useless wasn’t my normal thing. Finding him was a priority, after I was sure she was safe. If I could do these in unison, even better.

“Maybe they will come to you.”

“Strangers? How would we know they were really police? What if they were his?”

So paranoid. “I’ll know. We’d arrange it somewhere safe. It would have to be away from here. Besides, you told me he said goodbye to you.”

“Yes, he did. I’m sure he doesn’t want me back. I’m scared, though it doesn’t make sense.” She shrugged.

“Understandable, but I’m here. You’ve got me to guard you. Okay? Tomorrow, we have to record what you can remember about everything...” Where she was, how she was taken, so many things I wasn’t going to say, yet. “I’m sorry, but the cops would be doing this anyway and, if there’s a chance you’ll forget something important, we need to get on top of this.”

“I know. I’m still me, Glass. I want him caught.” She frowned and looked at the lap of her dress. “Just promise me you’ll not get hurt. I couldn’t stand it if hunting him ended with you hurt.”

“I won’t do anything reckless. I’m ex-SAS, Wren. All my men are ex-military and could take down Hugh’s security with their little fingers. You know that.”

“Huh.” Her mouth distorted, tweaked up, as if unconvinced.

“Well...those and a few assault rifles.”

She smiled weakly. “Sure. Thing is, he is...” She scratched at a clean spot on her dress as if something was there. Just to get time to think, I figured. “Thing is, he’s very particular. A perfectionist. You’re not going to find any clues. He scrubbed me down before he let me go. Washed me, my hair. Changed my clothes. He’s that sort of man.”

Her stare was too direct, for her. As if she was seeing something in the past when she saw me.

“Wren.” I took her hand. “I need to say this. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you that night. I failed you.”

My forehead ached but any pain I felt was deserved. I’d ask for her forgiveness but that was self-serving. What hurt me was that I had caused her to be hurt. I doubted I
would ever forgive myself. If I’d been there, they would never have taken her.

“You? Sorry?” She shook her head and sniffed. Her hand in mine shook, visibly shook. “No. Don’t be. It was my stupid fault for being there and his fault, not yours. Don’t say sorry, please?” Her hand shifted in mine and slid down to grip my fingers. “You’re my damn hero and I need that. No more sorries. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.” Any doubts I had could stay buried. “We can only try. And he does make mistakes. You said you almost got him with the knife. That’s why he released you. Right?”

“Yes. I did. Maybe, there could be something he’s missed.”

“So long as you try. Now roll over and let me put this ointment on your back.”

I didn’t say why or what I was talking about. We both knew it was for the brand. I had to apply this twice daily or risk an infection. I could do this, even though seeing that word made my stomach gnarly.

After she was in position on her stomach, I pushed the dress a little further, up past her butt.

There it was.
Mine.

How fucking warped was a man to want to put that on a woman just because he felt like it?

I unscrewed the tube and squeezed some of the white ointment onto my fingers, then applied it to the angry red letters. She hissed once then was quiet.

I could see the point of this, yes. I could see myself doing it, to be truthful, but only if she wanted me to. And a tattoo would be safer and prettier.

“The doc said you might get this removed with surgery?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her reply was soft and said into her forearms. Guess having stuff rubbed on this was somehow relaxing and I’d thought it’d hurt like hell.

I wanted to ask her to exchange tattoos one day, but it was too soon. I’d be happy just to see this
Mine
gone from her skin. Struck by an impulse, I leaned in and kissed her ass on one side. She shuddered at that.

“Hey. Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

After a few seconds’ silence, she said, “It was okay. I liked you doing it. Please, Glass...” She wriggled, rocking a little on the bed as if what she was about to say was uncomfortable.

“What?” I put my hand on her ass, covering much of the pretty lace of her panties on one ass cheek.

Sex was out of the question, I knew that, but it didn’t hurt to look. I’d been happy that she hadn’t decided all men were bastards and I should be kept at a ten-mile distance, like some leprous creature. We could ease back into sex. I could be gentle. Every moment she let me touch her I was grateful. Our relationship had barely been off the ground before she vanished and if anyone was at fault for that, it was I.

Wren made an exasperated noise. “It’s just. You didn’t bother me. Apologizing for kissing me bothered me more. Don’t
ask
. I want us to be like we were before.” She peeked back at me. “Understand?”

I was stunned. “I’d thought you’d want me to be gentler. I thought sex was off the agenda. Surely it is? Did I read this wrong?”

I tried not to look accusatory but the suddenness of this astounded me.

“No.” She sighed into the bed. “No. See. I was turned on after you kissed me. And now, after talking, I’m not. Sorry. Don’t ask me why. I don’t get myself. I’m all fucked up.”

Damn.
Anger came from nowhere. “No, you are not fucked up. He was. I don’t want to hear that again.” I screwed up my mouth. “Don’t you apologize either. Got that?”

I’d gone too far.

“Yes, Si– Yes. I got that. Thanks.”

And now she thanked me? I shook my head then hauled myself up the bed to lie beside her. Still thinking, I rearranged the spaghetti-thin strap of her dress so it fell over her shoulder where it was supposed to.

She turned her face to me but stayed on her stomach. Her next words were soft. “You used to be assertive, Glass. I still like that.”

“I can do that. No problem. I’m going to be here for you. We will figure all this out. Next time you want sex, I’ll be sure to be assertive. I’ll pounce. But you remember your safeword. Sand?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Safeword. I guess I can do that. But pouncing...is good.”

“Hmm.” I stirred her hair about her ear.

Pouncing on her, today, would’ve so screwed with my head that I’d need that shrink.

I didn’t tell her that though. Was it normal to want sex so soon after something like this? I had no idea. If she didn’t want to talk to a shrink, maybe I’d make that appointment for myself. One of us needed to sort out what was going on in her head.

“Can you cuddle me properly?” she whispered? “Like put your arm over me.”

“Like this?” I rested my arm over her, though trying not to squash her to the bed too much.

“Yes. I guess.” She wriggled closer, under my arm. “You can press down if you want.”

Why did this send a chill through me?

Wren

I woke, for the second morning aware that
he
wasn’t here. There was sunlight out there, past my eyelids, traffic noises, birds. No Glass though, I could tell his warmth was gone and the dip in the bed was less than if he’d been here. What if
he
was here? What if he hadn’t meant to let me go and came back? Could Glass truly defend me or would he get in?

I half expected to open my eyes and see him above me, smiling that malevolent smile, with two pairs of black leather cuffs in his hands, ready for me. When I opened my eyes, a tremor swept my body. The room was empty.

The thing was, I’d always seen the bad news, the massacres, the murders, the rapes, the children abused, and I was aware the world wasn’t perfect, but now I’d had it up close and personal...twice, if you counted Nathan. I wasn’t in a bubble.

Now I knew for sure the bad things could get in.

The man down the street might be a serial murderer, the kid in the car coming toward me might be on crack and googling maps instead of driving straight, the gang on the corner might decide I was a good easy victim in my lonely lit-up house one night. Someone could walk up behind Glass as he took me through a crowded street, put a gun to his head, and shoot him dead with a bullet to his brain.

Nobody was safe.
What if.
One mistake, one piece of bad luck was all it took.

Back there, in
his
house I knew the dangers and it was all him. Knowable danger. Controllable, to a degree, by my behavior. If I was good, he was kind, mostly. Even when he was bad, he kept it within his rules, his limits. He’d let me go after I tried to kill him. I remembered...being content at times, happy, and that sort of thought confused me so much.

I’d been safer back there, than out here in the world. I felt as if I was surrounded by darkness and evil here, in Glass’s house. Not because of Glass, no, he was my hero. But heroes died sometimes, didn’t they?

I was scared. Scared to get out of bed. Scared of bleeding, of people I loved dying, of things happening I had no control over.

Fuck this. I was no flower.

The door banged open and I jerked, the white sheet sliding off my shoulder by a few inches.

Glass entered, carrying a tray of food.

Smiling wanly, I slipped off the bed until my feet hit the floor and ran to him.

“I can take that.”

He held the tray above my head. “Nooo. This is my job. Besides, after this you’re going to be eating with us all, downstairs. You’re coming to the market with me after this too.”

I screwed up my mouth and reached for the tray. He raised it.

“Okay?”

I jumped higher, pretending I would grab it.

“Wren...” His glower was real and I grinned but subsided.

“Okay! Meanie.”

“Good. I figured blackmail would work.” The warm, friendly glow I’d gained from the bit of fun slowly faded. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to joke.