Kathryn took a second, calming herself. “God, you scared me. I was trying to find something to help me see in the dark so I could find you. Make sure you were all right.” After an awkward moment locking eyes with his blank stare, she asked, “Are you? All right, I mean?”
Her gaze fell to his hands. His knuckles were bloody and cut, swollen, and practically mangled. Reacting out of instinct, she tore open the first aid kit, setting it on a nearby workbench while she took one of his hands to assess the damage.
He yanked it back. His voice lowered, darkening the words from his lips. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Go to bed.” He secured the goggles in the cabinet she’d taken them from and slammed the door, sending an echoing crack through the room.
Stunned, she took a step back, determined to steady her nerves. Go to bed? What the hell?
“As soon as I treat that hand. Then you can have all the space you want.” She reached for his hand again, and he swung it away, towering over her.
“You need to go. Now, Kathryn.” His loud words trembled the air, dying down to an uncomfortable silence between them. Anguished, he looked away. “An angry Dom is dangerous.”
“An angry Dom is dangerous?” she repeated, disbelief fueling her own emotions. “Well, Master Jake, right here, right now, I’m not your sub. And since you don’t want a nurse, even though you obviously need one, you’re right. I should go. Because if I’m not safe with you, you’ve just found my deal breaker.” Abandoning any hope of salvaging the situation, she raced away before the waterworks sprang free.
Wiping her face, she unblurred her vision, but couldn't stop more tears from squeezing through.
Keep it together. He’s not worth it. He’s just a . . . mistake. Another macho jerkoff masquerading as a nice guy.
A moment later, she was back in her room, blindly shoving her belongings in her overnight bag as quickly as she could.
“Goddammit,” she said with a huff. Her cell in hand, she gave it a blank stare.
How can I call a Lyft? I don’t even know where the hell I am. There’s a gate, and a driveway eighty miles long.
She scrolled back and forth, trying to figure out her next move. Her thumb stopped at the listing for Z. Wolff.
Nothing beats making an impression on your boss like airing the mess of your dirty laundry.
Everyone has relationship issues, right?
Screw it.
I’ll break the ice by calling him Zach.
Her thumb hovered over his number, but she froze at the light knocking at her open door. She looked up, and there Jake stood, lurking like a vampire waiting to be invited in. She turned away.
“You’re not safe out there,” he said, glancing at her bag as he stepped into her room.
“Apparently, I’m not safe in here either, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Using the sleeve of her shirt, she wiped the wetness rolling down her cheeks.
His hand landed lightly on her shoulder, shooting her to a whole new stratosphere of anger. Her sharp shrug pushed him away.
“Don’t.” Her voice was stern, and louder than she’d intended. She stewed in the surreal irony. She hadn’t raised her voice in years. The last time was also because of him.
Jake held his fist over the bed and opened it, dumping a cluster of key fobs. As far as she could tell, every vehicle in the garage was accounted for.
“Take whatever you need. Or, if you’ll let me, you stay here and I’ll stay at your place. Or a hotel. I can’t be the reason something happens to you.”
She turned her head away, not meeting his eyes. “Something we agree on.”
Heading out, he paused briefly to say, “Good night, Kathryn.”
Good-bye, Jake.
Looking back at her cell, she knew what to do. She typed a quick text.
KATHRYN: I need your help. Where am I? Address wise.
Relieved to see bouncing bubbles, she waited for a reply. What came through didn’t help. Numbers. Letters. Little degree symbols.
KATHRYN: What the hell is this?
PACO: Coordinates. Jake’s place is off the grid. Intentionally. Pop those into Google Maps. Everything okay?
No. God-awful. Everything’s shit and I've got to get out of here.
KATHRYN: Yes. Fine. I appreciate it. Coffee’s on me next time you’re in town.
She ended her text with a thumbs-up emoji for effect.
PACO: It’s a date.
She cut and pasted the coordinates into a new text.
KATHRYN: It’s Kat. Need you. Meet me here. Now. Put coordinates in Google Maps. I’ll meet you at the gate.
Zipping up her overnight bag, she didn’t wait for a reply. After perusing the assortment on her bed, she grabbed the keys to the truck. Making her way to the garage, she was grateful not to accidentally bump into Jake on the way out.
Her heart in her throat, she zoomed out of the garage in the exact same truck she’d arrived in. At least, to the gate. The proximity trigger opened the gate as soon as she was within a few feet of it. She waited impatiently in the truck, so full of roiling emotions, she didn’t know how to feel.
A car eventually rolled up, making her glad he’d taken as long as he did. She’d cried herself out and was ready to rock it with a man who was fun and free, and promised a good time wherever he went.
Tossing her bag in the trunk and hopping in the front seat, she gave him a huge hug. “This girl needs a drink, and you’re the only man I want to see right now.”
Julian smiled through his concerned expression, taking off as soon as her seat belt was secure. “Your emergency kit is in its usual place, Ms. Kat. You want to explain why you used your ICE name?”
From under the seat, she pulled out a bag filled with mini bottles of assorted liquors. Without looking, she grabbed one, cracked open the cap, and downed its contents. “It was an emergency. In case of emergency, I need a wingman. I knew if you saw that name, you wouldn’t blow me off. No matter how hot your date was.”
“Eh.” Julian shrugged. “He wasn’t that cute. And that’s a serious smoke signal, only to be used in dangerous situations. If you’ve killed someone, robbed a bank, or accidentally OD’d on buttercream frosting. That being said, you want to talk about it?”
Another bottle in, she said, “Nope.” Followed by, “Shit!”
“What?”
“I left my laptop. Mr. Wolff just gave it to me, and I can’t ask him for another one. We have to turn around. Good news is I left the gate open.”
“Done,” he said, flipping a U-turn and heading back.
* * *
Kathryn entered the house with Julian on her heels. He trailed behind her, scanning the interior of the luxurious cabin, and huffed out an awe-filled, “Damn.”
With a demanding motherly tone, she frowned at him as she said, “Don’t make noise and don’t get lost. I’ll be back in two seconds.”
She raced upstairs, grabbed her laptop, and was back downstairs in two shakes. Frustrated that Julian had already wandered off, she texted him.
“I’m up here,” he shouted down.
Annoyed for a million different reasons, she blew a much bigger gasket when she realized he was in Jake’s room.
I’m going to kill him.
Her mental swearing stopped when she heard, “Kat!” Alarmed, she bolted upstairs.
Julian hovered over Jake’s unconscious facedown body, doing a quick check before slowly rolling him over. She dropped beside him, helping to move Jake gently to his back. Checking his pulse, she stared at the distinct wrinkling of his lips.
“Dehydrated.”
Julian nodded. “Severely. But his hands—”
“No, that’s not related to this.”
He shot her a quizzical glance. “Drugs?”
She paused, looking away. “I . . . don’t know.”
His hand squeezed hers. “Hey, no judgment. Ambulance?”
“No.”
“Off the books, it is.” Quickly, he pulled his cell from his pocket and placed a call. “Jules and Kat need Thelma and Louise. We need whatever IV bags of saline you can grab. A starter kit. Pain meds, antibiotics, and a tox screen. And medical records for Jake—”
“Jacob Russo,” Kathryn said.
“Jake or Jacob Russo. I’m texting you some crazy bullshit code, but if you put it in Google Maps, it’ll take you right to us. Just pass the truck and go up the hill.” He hung up. “They’re on their way.”
“Thank you,” she said, not taking her eyes off Jake.