Safe Harbor (9 page)

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After finishing his breakfast, Sully engrossed himself in his writing again. Just when he’d hit a groove, he heard her moving around in her bathroom next door, heard the toilet flush, the sink run.

Then her bedroom door opened and almost immediately Mac’s voice greeted her, full of forced cheer. He had expected Mac’s refusal to renegotiate the daily punishment strokes for wearing clothes. It didn’t mean it didn’t surprise him.

He waited a few minutes before carrying his empty coffee mug and plate out to the kitchen. He took great pains to circle around her to avoid where she sat at the counter. “Good morning, Clarisse.” He risked a glance at her.

“Good morning.” She didn’t look at him, studied the coffee mug and plate of food in front of her. Her hair hung loose, hiding her face.

She reminded him of a beat dog.

His sudden anger surprised him. If Bryan Jackson appeared on his doorstep, he would kill the fucker. Working hard to keep his rage in check, he slowly set down his mug and walked around the end of the counter to where she sat.

She didn’t turn her head, didn’t look at him.

He sensed Mac’s sudden tension and ignored it.

“Sweetie,” Sully softly said, “please look at me.”

He waited her out. After a long moment, she tilted her gaze toward him but didn’t fully lift her head.

He slowly reached out, hating that she flinched. He watched her tense, fight or flight instincts warring for control.

Undaunted, he swept her hair back and carefully tucked it behind her ears. Then he caught her chin. She didn’t resist when he tipped her face, her frightened blue eyes darting past him to Mac.

Again he waited her out, until her gaze settled on him and didn’t leave.

“May I ask a favor?” he asked.

She barely nodded.

“Would you please wear your hair back? For me? You have

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beautiful eyes.” He brushed the tip of her nose with his finger. “I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes.”

Finally, the hint of a smile.

Mac snorted behind him. “I thought you loved my eyes.”

Sully’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “I love your ass, Mac. Yes, your eyes are nice, but hers are pretty. Do you really want me calling you

‘pretty eyes’?”

A little more of a smile. Her bruised flesh crinkled around the corners of her eyes.

Bingo.

“She has
very
pretty eyes,” Sully repeated.

Mac walked over, apparently understanding what Sully was trying to accomplish. “Yes, you’re right, Master. Her eyes are definitely prettier than mine.”

“I mean, I can make you wear a dress, if you really want me calling you pretty—”

“No, that’s okay, Master.”

Amused, she snorted a little. Sully read her posture, sensed her slight relaxation.

That’s when he gave her a broad, beaming smile and stepped back, out of her personal space. She didn’t drop her head, kept her eyes on him.

“I don’t know, Clarisse. You think I should make him wear a dress?”

A little more of an amused curl to her lips. “I think he’s more a tight jeans kind of guy. He does have a nice ass.” She blushed a little but didn’t look away.

“Score one for the girl,” Sully teased as he picked up his mug.

Mac had refilled it. He turned to Mac and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Lucky for you, I’m feeling charitable. Go find the tightest pair of jeans you can squeeze yourself into. No underwear.”

Mac looked startled, but went to do it while Clarisse actually laughed.

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He’d guessed right—she had a beautiful, clear laugh. On that sweet note, he returned to his study but left the door cracked open.

* * * *

Over the next hour or so, he heard them talking, the occasional laugh from Mac or Clarisse, the front door opening and shutting as they went outside, probably so Mac could show her around. Five minutes later, movement in the yard caught his eye through the window. Sure enough, Mac and Clarisse stood at the seawall, looking out at the bayou. Mac pointed to something. Clarisse nodded.

Sully smiled. She’d pulled her hair back into a low ponytail.

Good girl.

He wouldn’t force her, wouldn’t rush her. But maybe that tiny breach in her defenses would be enough to start her on the road to trusting him.

She said something, because Mac laughed. Then a moment later, he frowned and pulled her to him.

Sully forced himself to stay seated and watch, fought the urge to race downstairs.

To help Mac console her.

Her entire body shook with the force of her sobs as Mac guided her down to the grass, where he held her cradled tenderly against him.

Sully felt pain in his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists, his nails digging into his flesh.

She’d been deeply wounded. Her physical injuries were already healing but how long to heal her psyche? To restore her trust and get her to a point where she could be a fully functioning human again?

Would she ever stop flinching when he moved toward her? Would there ever come a point when a stern voice wouldn’t set into motion an ingrained series of protective responses?

Tad’s implied suggestion came back to him. It was far too soon to entertain any ideas along that line. Unfortunately, with the idea

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planted in his mind, it had quickly taken root and sprouted no matter how impractical it sounded.

Tad knew they weren’t gay, had teased the men many times about their almost identical head pivots as they followed a pretty woman’s progress with their eyes.

Not to mention the fact that after what Clarisse had been through, the last kind of relationship she’d probably ever want would be the only kind they could give her.

He watched as Mac pressed a kiss to the top of her head before she sat up and wiped at her face. He said something, prompting a nod from her.

Did he miss women? Yes. Not Cybil, not after what she’d put him through. There were nights he’d lie in bed with Mac sleeping soundly next to him and wish for the soft curves of a feminine body.

Not that he’d ever admit that to Mac.

Another thing he’d never admit—he was scared to ask Mac if he missed women too, not sure if he’d like the answer.

* * * *

Sully closed his office door before they returned. He heard them talking in the living room. Then her bedroom door opened and shut, the sound of the shower coming on in her bathroom.

A soft knock sounded at his door.

“Come.”

Mac walked in. “We’re going to see Tad after she gets her shower.”

Sully reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He handed Mac a credit card. “Use this if you need it.”

Mac took it. “Thank you, Master.” He didn’t leave.

“What?”

“Are you really okay with this?”

Sully felt a cold thread of fear slowly wind its way through his

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soul. “Why wouldn’t I be, slave?”

“Because I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

He studied Mac. He knew Mac went out of his way to walk a narrow path with him, not because he demanded it, but because Mac had helped him through the emotional aftermath of his shooting and divorce and wanted to keep his trust. “I have every confidence that you won’t disappoint me.”

Mac leaned in and kissed him. “Thank you, Master.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Getting back to his writing wasn’t easy. He heard the shower shut off, then her bedroom door open a few minutes later. The sound of them talking in the living room before the front door opened and closed. Silence descended. Then the sound of Mac’s truck starting and pulling out of the driveway.

Alone.

He tried to throw himself back into his manuscript.

* * * *

Around three-thirty, he heard Mac’s truck return. The front door.

Voices. Her bedroom door opening and closing. Bathroom noises.

Then…

Nothing.

Sully looked up from his computer and waited.

Five minutes later, he walked out to the kitchen. Mac sat at the counter, a cookbook opened in front of him.

“You guys are back early.”

“She’s tired. She didn’t feel like going out to eat. I told her to lie down and take a nap.”

He watched Mac, how he massaged his forehead, a sure sign of stress. Sully walked around the counter and rubbed his shoulders.

“You okay, Brant?”

“Yeah.”

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“Really?”

“No. I want to kill the fucking bastard. Is that normal?”

Sully snorted with amusement. “Yeah. I’d worry about you if you didn’t.”

Mac prepared one of Sully’s favorites, a savory chicken casserole he hadn’t cooked in a while. At dinner time, Sully heard Mac tap on Clarisse’s door.

Nothing.

He tapped again, then finally opened the bedroom door and stepped inside when he received no response.

Sully left his chair and walked down the hall. He stood just outside her doorway and listened. Clarisse’s low voice sounded sleepy. Mac’s soft, warm chuckle. Then Mac reappeared, nearly running into him.

Sully led him to the kitchen. “She okay?”

He looked sad. “Yeah. She was sound asleep, poor thing. It’s caught up with her.”

She joined them at the table a few minutes later. She’d remembered to pull her hair back. That pleased Sully. Mac held her chair for her, which seemed to surprise her.

“Did you have a nice nap?” Sully asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Mac kept up a nervous running conversation. Sully spotted the deep exhaustion painted on her face. When they finished eating, before she could offer to help with the dishes, Sully stood and grabbed his plate and hers. “Sweetie, you go chill out, seriously.

We’ll clean up. You need to rest.”

Without a word, she slowly returned to her room. The men sadly watched her go. Mac took the plates from Sully.

“Good show, Master,” he snarked.

Sully smiled and picked up the casserole dish. “Maybe I was planning to help you.”

Mac snorted, laughing. “Since when do you do dishes?”

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“Whenever I want. I’m the Master.”

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Monday morning, Sully left Clarisse with Mac. Mac would take her to visit Tad.

His own destination—the sheriff’s office. He parked in the public lot. It felt weird returning here as a civilian.

He walked in and didn’t recognize the receptionist.

“Detective Callahan, please. Tell him it’s Sully.”

She picked up the phone as he waited. A moment later, she smiled. “Go on back. He said you know the way.” She handed him a visitor’s pass and had him sign in.

“Thanks.”

He did know the way. Jason occupied his old office, although it was arranged differently now. He knocked on the open doorway, and Jason looked up. “Hey! There you are!” He waved Sully inside.

Sully closed the door behind him and hugged Jason, then sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. He set the roll of film on his friend’s desk.

“I need a favor, Jayce.”

Jason frowned. “What’s up?” Sully told him the short version of the story. “Holy fuck.” Jason shook his head. “You’re worried the paperwork might disappear?”

“You know it. If it hasn’t already. Can you stop by tonight and take her statement?”

“You don’t want to bring her in?”

“It’s not like we’d have jurisdiction here anyway. Besides, I don’t think Brant and I together could carry her into a police station right now. She’d fight us tooth and nail. She’s terrified. She’s even scared of me because I’m a cop.”

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Jason sat back. “Wow.” He looked thoughtful. “You don’t want her officially in the system, either.”

“Of course not. If his buddies have her plugged in and are keeping an eye out for her, he’ll be down here looking for her. I want unofficial official paperwork on her in case something else happens.”

“I wouldn’t do this for anyone but you, you know.”

“I know. I appreciate it.”

Jason fell quiet for a moment. “So…how is Brant?”

“We’re good. Doing fine.”

Jason snickered. “I heard Cybil filed for divorce from number five.”

Sully slowly nodded. “I heard.”

“Did you ever stop to think maybe she did you a favor? Even as shitty as it was?” He shrugged. “I mean, you know me, my brother’s gay. What people do doesn’t bother me. But…” He shrugged again.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t think I ever saw you as happy with her as you have been with Brant.”

“I know. I wasn’t.”

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