Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
“You need to be patient with yourself. It takes time to see results, and it happens at different rates for different people,” Dr. Berta Vanhooven said in her soothing voice, her pleasantly lined face sympathetic as she looked at him through his computer screen.
“You’re a very driven man who prefers to move forward over examining the past. What I’m asking you to do is spend time with your past self to find the trauma, which isn’t an easy task.
And when we’re asking these memories to resurface, sometimes the feelings of trauma get worse before they get better.
You must be kind to yourself as you go through this process. ”
Radik let out a short bark of laughter. “I don’t deserve kindness, most especially from myself. I’ve killed people for profit and now I’m paying you to help me live with myself.”
His counsellor didn’t look shocked. In fact, her expression was one of understanding and compassion. He hated it when she looked at him that way. He felt undeserving.
“I’m not here to judge you, Radik. I’m here to help.” The exorbitant fee he was paying for her services helped with her lack of judgement, but he needed someone who was willing to see past his career choice, and Berta came highly recommended.
“I appreciate that you’re trying.” Radik gave her a slight smile. “I’m a man who does not accept failure, but I can’t seem to get a handle on this. I find it quite frustrating. Nonetheless, I will try to find some patience with my slow progress.”
“You’re making excellent inroads into your treatment,” she assured him. “And frustration is a feeling we can honour as well. Examine it, see where it’s coming from. Is it your desire for faster results or is there something else blocking you? You’ve said you feel you don’t deserve to get better.”
He stared at her for a moment, processing what she’d said. She was making sense. Of course, his desire to get better was clashing with his need to punish himself.
“How do I resolve such conflicting… feelings?” He shuddered at the word.
“You spend time with yourself and your feelings,” she said, chuckling. “You examine the thoughts that surface but try to do it your way. Perhaps in a militaristic fashion. Find your target, the feeling or memory causing the frustration, and look at it from all sides, as if planning a campaign.”
“A campaign to kill it,” he said with grim humour.
She shook her head at him, though her expression was wry.
“Not quite, that’s where I’ll ask you to depart from the soldier tactic.
You need to hang on to those memories and feelings because burying them, or attempting to kill them, as you’ve done so far, is what has led to these post-traumatic stress episodes. ”
They talked for a few more minutes before Radik’s hour was up.
“Have you started that journal I suggested?” she asked.
“Yes, but I’ve not written much. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to say. I write about my day. I write about Saskia.”
“How do you feel after you write?”
“Frustrated.” It was the word he said most often during his therapy sessions and not one he enjoyed. Ordinarily, he would remove whatever was frustrating him, but psychology was different. He couldn’t just kill the enemy this time because he was his own enemy.
“You told me in our previous session that Saskia keeps a journal and that you’re close enough to her to talk about some of these feelings. Perhaps you should ask her what she gets out of writing.”
“I will,” he agreed.
“Good,” she said, smiling widely. “Then I’ll see you next week at the same time. Have a wonderful weekend, Radik, and call me if you need anything before our next meeting.”
They shut down the Zoom call, and Radik leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. This was his fourth session and so far, he’d seen very little, if any, progress. Berta had assured him it would take time, but he wasn’t sure he had time. Not if he wanted to keep Saskia safe.
A knock on the door heralded her arrival. He knew it was her before the door opened. Only she knocked that way, soft and quick.
“Come!” he called.
Sure enough, her dark curls and beaming face popped around the corner. “All done?”
He nodded and patted his lap.
She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she slid onto his lap.
He held her against him, breathing in her scent of fresh air and sunshine. “You’ve been outside,” he murmured against her neck.
“Nikka and I were helping Nonna in the garden. She’s harvesting the cassava this week. We’re going to ferment a bunch of it once we’ve finished.”
“Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”
She leaned back in his arms to look at him seriously.
“I love gardening. I’ve never thought much about it before, but there’s something very satisfying about cooking and eating the food I’ve helped pull from the dirt.
I think if I hadn’t gone to school for linguistics, I might have become a professional gardener. ”
“Next you’ll be cooking all our meals, putting Nonna out of a job.”
“I couldn’t possibly do everything Nonna does, and with the skill she does it. I want to learn to cook more recipes, but I don’t enjoy it the way she does. I’m happy to give over the kitchen to her care.”
He was pleased to see Saskia taking so much interest in her new home. He loved seeing her happy, healthy and getting along with everyone in his household. He knew she would, of course, but she could also have chosen to be more difficult toward the people around her, having come there under duress.
When he’d investigated her past, he’d discovered a bit of a wild child with a stubborn streak a mile wide. When he’d gotten a copy of her security file he found she’d spent much of her youth skipping out on her security details. She must’ve made her parents go prematurely gray.
“How are things going with Deputy Saagan?” he asked.
It’d been a week since their visit to the politician and as far as he knew, Saskia had talked to the man daily, as well as liaised with Saagan’s assistant, Lilia, and his new head of security, Kenneth Briggs.
“It’s going well, I think,” she said, her expression growing serious. “I’ve done as you suggested and had Kenneth implement heavy surveillance in and around the hospital.”
“Excellent. I’m pleased to hear it.” He’d advised her to install facial recognition software in the hospital’s security system as well as in the local CCTV.
“Now that we’re done talking about me…” Her gaze grew softer, more compassionate. “How did your meeting with Dr. Vanhooven go?”
He didn’t like talking about himself and his therapy sessions, but he was doing it for Saskia so he did his best to tell her what they discussed.
“It was fine. She wants me to….” He shook his head in disgust. “To honour my feelings of frustration by examining them and finding out where they come from.”
“It’s obvious,” she said in a gentle voice. “You’re punishing yourself for your past by crippling your ability to heal.”
“And yet I’m paying this woman $400 an hour to tell me the same thing.” He almost added that therapy was a scam, but he didn’t want the accompanying lecture, so he swallowed the words. “She also told me to ask you about your journal.”
She stiffened in his arms. “My journal?” she asked cautiously. “What about it?”
He chuckled. “I’m not asking to read it.” He already had, but she didn’t know that and he’d decided to stop now that she was with him. “She simply told me I should ask you how you feel after you write in it. Apparently, I’m not getting the right feelings.”
She laughed, relaxing. “It’s not about having right or wrong feelings, it’s more about the relief of getting them out on paper. It truly does help me, but maybe it’s not for you. I don’t think everyone has an affinity for it.”
He thought about it, before saying, “I think I should give it a better shot before deciding to quit. I’ve tried twice. Maybe next time I will try to write something that will relieve my mind.”
She hugged him closer. “Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, the sun streaming through the window and warming them. The scent of wildflowers drifted through the open window, surrounding them.
“If I can get better, will you marry me?” He’d meant to make a spectacle of the question when the time came, but this felt like the right moment. It was private, they were wrapped up in each other, both physically and mentally.
“Of course, I’ll marry you,” she said, hugging him to her. “Whether you get better or not. I’m here for the long run.”
Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her until she was straddling him on the chair. “You are remarkable, my angel. It would be my life’s honour if you will marry me.”
She closed the few inches between them, feathering her lips against his. “It would be my life’s honour to be with you forever, Sharif Muhammed Radik.”
He took her lips in a searching kiss that soon became all-consuming. Saskia clung to him as they explored each other.
“We should take this to the bedroom,” she moaned, wiggling on his lap, inflaming him further.
He’d intended to check in at the command center and discuss security with Nuani, but as always, Saskia turned his thoughts in a different direction.
He stood with her in his arms, swallowing her gasp of surprise as he shifted her.
“Agreed,” he said, barely releasing her lips.
They stumbled out of his office, arms still wrapped around each other. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Shola disappear into the shadows.
He broke the kiss long enough to carry her up the stairs and into her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped onto the bed with her cradled against him, rolling so he would land on the bottom, absorbing the impact.
Saskia shoved her hands under his shirt, forcing it up as her nails scratched at him playfully.
Shivers ran through him and his erection grew more painful.
As if reading his mind, she reached down and unzipped his trousers while yanking at his belt.
In short order, she had him freed, her greedy hands pumping him.
“Stop or I’ll come too soon.” He captured her hands, jerking them up and holding them against his stomach.
“Well, that’s not fun,” she purred, bending over to take the tip of him into her mouth.
Laughing, he flipped her over on the bed and smacked her denim-clad ass, making her shriek and wriggle to escape him. He used her struggles to pull her clothes off one item at a time.
When he was finished, she was deliciously disheveled, her hair a wild halo of curls falling into her face, her skin flushed pink. He yanked the rest of his clothes off until he was naked before pulling her on top of him, encouraging her to straddle him.
She gripped him as she crouched over him, slowly lowering herself until she began to take him into her body.
He held her hips without controlling her, allowing her to choose their pace. It took a few minutes of breathless wiggling, but finally she was fully seated, her glorious tits thrust out and up as she arched her back, undulating over him
Radik was awed by her passion, the abandon in which she threw herself into sex. She enjoyed it and she wasn’t afraid to seek the orgasm hovering just beyond her grasp. As if proving his point, she reached between them, fingering her clit as she rode him.
Her face twisted and her channel clamped down on him as her orgasm hit. Her movements grew jerkier and he took her by the hips, guiding her to continue pumping him, even as she got tighter and tighter.
Finally, he was unable to hold on any longer, the feeling of her squeezing him, the look of ecstasy on her face, it drove him over the edge. Taking her by the shoulders, he pulled her down until she was lying flat against his chest while he pumped the last of his seed into her.
She sprawled on top of him, panting, her breath mingling with his as they came down from the high of an incredible afternoon fuck.
“Amazing,” she breathed, yawning and stretching. She rolled to the side of him, dragging a blanket over both of them. “Now it’s nap time. We need to recover some of that energy we just used up.”
“I need to check in with Nuani,” Radik said, his voice unconvincing, even to himself.
She shoved her arm across his chest, barring him from leaving. “Stay with me. You can see Nuani later.” She twisted her face into an adorable pout. “He gets you more often than I do. I’m starting to get jealous.”
He chuckled, revelling in his sweet captivity. “We’re not married yet and already you give me orders.”
She snuggled closer, yawning against his neck as she mumbled, “You brought me here knowing exactly who I am. If you wanted a meek mistress, you should’ve chosen someone else.”
He grinned at the ceiling as she fell asleep, her soft breaths puffing against him, lulling him into sleep as well.
His last thought as he drifted off was to marvel at how he’d never done anything like this before, fallen asleep in the arms of a lover, the warm afternoon sun spilling across their naked bodies.
“Radik!” He woke to a woman’s scream.
He bolted from the bed, confused as he searched for the source of the scream. It was no longer sunny outside, it was dark, the shadows confusing him. He couldn’t see her until his eyes adjusted, then he found her.
Saskia was curled up naked on the floor with her back to the wall. Tears poured down her cheeks and she clutched at her throat, coughing harshly. She cradled something in her lap.
“Saskia!” He rushed toward her.
“No!” she screamed, lifting the thing in her lap. A gun, she had the gun he’d given her for protection. “Stay back.”
He was just beginning to make sense of what had happened when the door crashed open and Shola rushed in, weapon raised. He lifted his hand to stop her, but it was too late. The prongs of the stun gun entered his chest and seconds later he was on the floor slipping into unconsciousness.