Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
On Sunday morning, Ray answered the door. “Finally!” She grabbed Marisol in hug tight enough to make her friend squeak. “It’s been a week, and I’ve been worried. Texting isn’t the same as seeing you.”
“Sorry, sorry. I just…needed a bit of time.” Marisol squeezed back.
“S’okay. You’re here now.” Stepping back, Ray waved her into the house. “So have—”
“Wait.” Marisol sniffed the air. “What smells so good?”
“Beignets. When Drake was growing up, his mom made them on Sundays—and he was feeling nostalgic.” And he’d wanted to make Ray feel better. She’d been making difficult phone calls, then had a nightmare about Blaize and woken up feeling guilty and angry and still terrified.
Sugar wasn’t supposed to fix emotions, was it? Yet the pastries and lots of Drake’s hugs had her feeling better.
She’d finally thought of a way to show her gratitude. Or her love. Both? And she’d be spending time in the workshop to get it made.
Because he totally deserved it. He was so amazing. They’d been together all their free moments—and she kept falling deeper in love.
“He made a whole batch of beignets this morning. We both ate too many.” Ray patted her stomach. “Which is why he’s gone jogging.”
“You know, I’m working the evening shift, and there’ll be lots of walking…” Marisol said hopefully.
Marisol must have returned to her part-time job as a student nurse tech at Harborview. Ray grinned as her spirits lifted. Things were getting back to normal.
Hope and Peter, actually everyone, had gone back to work. Simon and Rona had returned to San Francisco a few days ago. I’m already missing Rona.
But she had friends here. Like Marisol.
“Well, we can’t have you wasting away,” Ray said lightly and brought out a plateful of powdered sugar-covered pastries and a glass of milk. “Eat and tell me how you’ve been. More than text emojis.”
“Really, not too bad. It took a couple of days to get back into studying. Thursday, I had my first visit with the counselor you found for me. She’s really nice.” Marisol took a bite of beignet and chewed it. “It helps a lot she isn’t weirded out by kink or BDSM.”
“I’m glad you’re able to be honest with her.
” MacKensie had provided a list of kink-friendly counselors, including the one Ray started with yesterday.
“When I got counseling the first time, the therapist was strait-laced, so I wasn’t completely honest with her.
” She snorted. “Now I get to work through everything I covered up.”
Knowing Drake would ask and hold her accountable had helped when she wanted to evade being honest.
Marisol wrinkled her nose. “I wanna think I’d go ahead and shock a judgy one, but yeah, being open sucks. I can see why you didn’t tell all.”
From nearby, a thud sounded. A few seconds later, a furry head poked up high enough to check out the food on the coffee table. “Mew.”
“Sorry, Max. No sweets for kitties.” Ray moved the plate out of paw’s reach.
The feline glare was ferocious in the little furry face.
“Oooh, no purrs in your future.” Marisol snickered.
“Can’t blame him. Beignets smell so tasty.” Ray eyed the pastries, so pretty and round and tempting. No, no, don’t do it.
Just one more. Promise. She chose one and took a happy bite with a hand beneath in a useless effort to catch the fall of powdered sugar. And left it to Marisol to choose what to talk about.
“So…” Marisol eyed Ray. “I still don’t remember everything about last weekend. I know I went to the party with Master Atlas, but all the Doms called each other weird names. He told me to call him Conan.”
Ray choked on her bite of beignet. She’d been right. Conan, the door guard, was the jerk who’d manipulated Marisol into attending the party so he and his twisted buddies could assault her. You’re going to jail for a long time, you bastard. “Was that the last you remember?”
“No.” Marisol frowned. “I was drinking and feeling great, and feeling as if I loved him so much, and we were making out, only then another guy came over. I wasn’t down with it, and Master Atlas said okay, no problem, and he got me something to drink.
But after I had a couple sips, I remembered what you said, and I didn’t finish it. Only then it all gets foggy.”
No wonder Marisol hadn’t been totally out of it, and they’d had to restrain her in the back bedroom. In fact, Rona said Marisol had punched Simon right in the gut. “It’s scary to have messed up memories and not be sure what really happened.”
Ray picked up Max and set him on Marisol’s lap. A purring cat was the best of comforters.
“It really is.” Marisol stroked Max until his purr was loud and happy. “Anyway, I do remember some stuff. Being carried out a back window. A car ride. Where there was a woman. One of the men had a French accent. It’s odd my memories don’t match what the woman who picked me up told the nurses.”
Dammit, Drake. You should have stayed silent. “Huh, interesting. Well, no matter how it happened, I’m glad you got out of there.”
Marisol had a funny expression on her face. “It’s also kind of strange your texts from that night stopped all of a sudden, and yet, you showed up at the hospital the next morning. Even though Mamá says she didn’t call you, and hospitals don’t give out information.”
Ray flinched. Oops, hadn’t thought that one through.
“Is your face feeling better?” Marisol traced a finger down her own jawline. “Must be embarrassing to hit your face on a workbench.”
Okay, so it wasn’t the best of excuses. She wasn’t about to tell Marisol she got backhanded by a sadist. At Marisol’s party. “It is so embarrassing. How will people ever trust me with their work if I can’t even keep my own face safe?”
Marisol’s expression was…odd. “You know what’s more interesting? Master Atlas didn’t show up at his classes.”
“Huh. Good riddance, right?”
“Oh yeah. Only I really wanted to punch him.” Marisol scowled. “So, at the party, I exchanged numbers with a woman there, cuz I thought it’d be cool to have other submissives to talk with.”
Ray blinked. Conan must have missed seeing that.
“Anyway, on Monday I texted her I’d been roofied at the party and ended up in the hospital.
She was already freaked since the police had been talking to all the BDSM club members.
About the parties and especially what they remember about Master Atlas and some others, including that smooth dude from your Chains club. ”
“Holy cryptids. I guess the bad guys got outed.” Ray scrunched up her face. “I’m glad you got out of the party before anything worse happened.”
“Oh boy, yeah.” Marisol shook her head. “I guess the BDSM club is discussing everything—and plans to make a rule so only students can be members. No older guys or faculty.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“For me, I’m going to concentrate on school. Maybe try kink again later. Much later.” Marisol finished her beignet and rose. She gave Ray a hug and whispered, “You and Drake? Thank you from all my heart.”
At the door, Ray waved her off, both of them smiling.