Chapter 16
EMME
We were both members, and Charity’s text saying she had already arrived popped up just as I spotted her in the lounge. There was a no alcohol rule here, but an iced coffee tempted me.
She rose as I weaved closer past a few occupied tables.
Someone in here was eating a cheesy pasta, another chowed down on a burger dripping sauce that resembled blood.
My imagination was running on gasoline, and no wonder after yesterday.
My butt had the biggest bruise with a mix of deep red and blue splotches.
The mirror had made it look amazing, and I’d traced it with my fingers while remembering him, and masturbating.
I blinked and threw away my reminiscing.
“Hi, Charity! Whoa with the black secret spy look. Turn, girl.”
I rotated my finger. Grinning, she obeyed. Black jeans, black figure-hugging shirt, and her black hair spun and swished over her shoulders.
I opened my arms, and we swapped hugs.
“Let’s go shoot something,” she said.
“Sure.”
On the way down to the range, while Charity nattered about what gun she was using and how she wanted to buy a new Glock, and how happy she was with the ass-clinging features of her jeans because some man had complimented her, I was wrangling with what and how to tell her about my misadventures.
Ear-plugs and eye protection donned, we shot our targets, totaled up scores, exchanged gossip, and still I had not said anything about Mr. Scott.
Charity thought that friend of a friend called Dave, whose name she thought was Simon, had ducked out, and she tagged him with many derogatory names. Her last target had been dedicated to him; she was that mad at the guy.
“You could have been hurt! Raped,” she re-iterated as the target wound in toward us.
“I think you got him,” I drawled ironically. “Four bullseyes is way better than mine.” I might be good at kneecapping, today, if they stood really still.
“Never mind.” She shook the target. “I’m going to frame this and put it on the wall next to the front door.”
“You’re going to scare the shit out of the delivery guys.”
“Hey, that could be a good diet plan.”
I chuckled as we walked back to where the noise of shooting lessened to distant pops.
“Want to go get a cocktail somewhere?”
“It’s five o’clock? But sure.” I nodded. “I’m always up for day drinking. Let’s go somewhere they have great food, too.”
“Argello’s?”
We batted a few venues back and forth before agreeing.
How. How did I say it? She might want to call the police.
Okay, she would want to. I should wait until we had a drink or two inside us.
As we exited, I came to a sudden decision to tell her. We had to drive, and getting hammered was the only way to get braver at this. I may as well do it here.
A kid went by us on a skateboard, and I flip flopped again. Wait.
My confession seemed surreal compared to the people wandering by in the car park. I waved to Charity as I headed to my car.
It wasn’t until we were facing each other over a pina colada and a frozen strawberry daiquiri at Argello’s a low-key Italian place, that I said something.
I rattled out a summary of the events, the fact that the wrong man had grabbed me and, basically, sexually assaulted me.
When I said I did not intend to tell the police for reasons, and added that I liked what he did to me, she went an odd color.
I strangled the stem of my glass and cringed at the stare she shot me.
“I know I should have said something to you.”
“Yes! You waited all week to tell me, Miss Emme? Now I’m glad I used Simon for target practice. Why? Why didn’t you say something?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want you to go to the cops. I was afraid you might.” I gave her an apologetic look. “You won’t, will you?”
Hunched over the table and frowning, Charity dragged her daiquiri closer then took a sip. I gave her time. I was in no hurry.
“I guess not. If you don’t want me to?”
I shook my head and took an automatic gulp of the pina colada. “Am I crazy?”
“We both are. Who is this criminal? I’m wondering if you can get Stockholm Syndrome in a week.”
“It was only two days,” I said quietly.
“Huh. Also fuck that Simon. He told Dave he thought it was too risky. If he had turned up… Did Simon’s texts to you get lost?”
“The man who took me said he had my phone in a bag that blocked signals.” I decided to omit telling her he had all my contacts, my pics, probably everything on there.
“Why tell me, if you don’t want cops involved?” She reached and took my hand in hers, squeezed.
My heart thudded louder then settled.
All the whys. “I needed to. Not to vent or gossip.” I stared past her at nothing. “Not the cops. I…” This was stupid. “Because I like him.”
“Fuck, Emme! Just fuck.”
I couldn’t help smirking. “Definitely lots of those.”
She laughed then cut it off and studied me closely. “Really? That good?”
“That fucking good. I’m conflicted. I admit he is dangerous, but he let me go. Since then, he has told me he didn’t want me to get really hurt. Which meant die, I guess?” Wow, that came out awful. I tried not to look too sheepish.
“That’s a plus,” she muttered. “So he did all that to you and you seriously want more? Why did he release you and what makes you think this relationship—let’s call it that—has a future?”
She poked her cocktail umbrella at the daiquiri and ice.
“Well. I saw him again, yesterday.” I couldn’t help my voice going a bit dreamy. “He towed me under a tree at the park—” I braked due to the dead silence from Charity. “And that’s when he said he didn’t want to harm me. Twice, actually.”
“On most dates, sane humans go with I love you, not ‘I don’t want to irrevocably hurt you and slice you to bits.’”
I grinned. “He’s texted me. Given me a command.”
“A Dom then, of sorts. Bad sorts. Illegal sorts. If you think he’s dangerous, might he do worse? Also, what if he finds out you told me? I mean, I saw him at the café, and the CCTV footage in that area might have caught him or his vehicle.”
I listened, wondering if any of this was a problem. I’d been all about the me, hadn’t thought I might be endangering her.
Mr. Scott, though, I was sure he wasn’t dangerous to Charity. He had backtracked fast at the CNC party. Axl, on the other hand, I was less sure of. Would I be scaring Charity unnecessarily if I said she might be in danger?
I shook my head. “He wants to do this legally now. Consensually.” I was bending the definition. “Really. I am sorry this worries you. I just had to tell someone, and you’re my only kinky friend. I trust you not to blab.”
She sighed and leaned back, drink in hand.
“Honey, I won’t blab. I am just concerned about where this is going.”
Me, too.
“However, think about making like a vault of info, then give it to me? Detail everything that happened, descriptions of them and their houses. All the stuff they did. Just in case.”
I chewed my lip. Should I do that? It would feel like I was betraying Mr. Scott.
“Are you in love with this guy?”
That had come out of the blue, and my face heated as I blushed hard.
“No.” I frowned, turned my glass around and around in my hand then put it on the table. “No. of course I’m not in love. In lust, yes.”
“That’s how they all begin, though, Emme.
” Her smile was rueful. “Try to be careful. And please, before you do anything else, maybe tell me? If you vanish, I can spill my guts, but I would rather not reveal all this to the cops, and then discover you were off being made to scream in fluent orgasm in your fancy Dom’s villa, all voluntary like. ”
“Hmm. Okay.” Voluntary, though? That word gave me hives.