Leslie ran the vacuum around the couch, her mind conjuring up the image of her lying under Kurt, her body bowing to his demands as she writhed in the pleasure he’d proven so good at unleashing both that night and last night. In the weeks since she’d invited him home with her, she had failed to find an answer as to why she couldn’t put him and that night out of her mind. Now she found herself questioning how she could have been so stupid as to risk indulging in another scene thinking he wouldn’t remember her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, stowing the vacuum in the hall closet. If she stayed away from the club, she wouldn’t see him again, and that would be that. Her stomach cramped at the thought of once again giving up the only social and sexual outlet she’d allowed herself in the last three years. But what choice did she have? Master Kurt would demand answers and explanations if she returned next week, and she didn’t have any to give him, not without revealing her enrollment in the Witness Protection program. That was the one thing Detective Reynolds had drilled into her as he and Agent Summers laid out the details of her relocation – never reveal her real name or the circumstances that had forced her to change it. In this day and age of advanced technology and computer savvy techs willing to do anything for the right amount of money, it was too easy for Edwin Glascott to use his wealth and influence to track her down, not to mention to hire someone to do his dirty work for him.
The break-in at her house following the trial was solved, but there was no mistaking the threat when a car drove by the next day, the driver taking aim and shooting as soon as she’d opened her front door. Leslie still broke out in a cold sweat when she recalled the loud rapport of gun fire and her neighbor’s painful exclamation and shocked face as the eighty-something man’s arm was grazed. Even though the injury was superficial, it forced her hand into accepting witness protection. There was no way she’d risk someone else’s safety, or her own.
Leslie finished lunch and then booted up her computer to go over the week’s lesson plans, hoping work would keep her from thinking about a black-eyed cowboy who could turn her into a hot mess of longing with just one searing look. She managed to get finished in an hour, making a note of which students still needed help in some areas, and then spent an hour in the apartment complex’s gym, working out the last of the soreness from her physical exertion last night. Two months abstinence from the club activities left her out of shape for the intense scene Master Kurt put her through.
Returning to her apartment, she allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips as she admitted the orgasms he’d wrung from her were worth the discomfort after weeks of inaction. As soon as she shut and locked the door behind her, her phone rang and she dug it out of her bag. Her throat went dry upon seeing Detective Reynolds’ name displayed and well-remembered ripples of misgiving trickled through her. Once a month, Agent Cathy Summers from the Witness Protection program checked in with her, but she hadn’t heard from the detective in charge of Alessandro Carmichael’s murder since right before she was flown to Montana.
Leaning against the door for support, she pressed the button to answer. “Detective. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to contact you out of the blue like this, but I wanted to be the one to tell you the Glascott brothers were in a knife fight at the prison last night. Jason was killed and Jake is in critical condition along with two other inmates. None of them are expected to make it,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of worry.
Leslie closed her eyes as she recalled the Glascotts’ cold faces right before Jake shot Alessandro in the head. She didn’t understand why her abdomen tightened with guilt or why her heart turned over in sympathy for how their young lives ended. They were evil, neither showing an ounce of remorse for the horrible act they’d committed, just nerve-racking hatred toward her in the courtroom.
“I’m sorry. You don’t think I should be happy about this, do you?”
“No, but I’m giving you a heads-up. Edwin Glascott is on a rampage. He’s been fighting tooth and nail to get both boys’ convictions overturned or, barring that, a new trial. I want you to be aware of what’s going on. You’re safe where you’re at as long as you don’t tell anyone who you really are.”
“I haven’t. I’d say pass on my condolences, but I don’t think that would go over well with the family. Thank you for letting me know.”
He hesitated then said, “Take care, Leslie, and remember, you did the right thing, a good thing.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Leslie hung up, wishing doing the right thing wasn’t always so damn hard.
Kurt leaned his forearms on the top rail of the corral, chewing on a blade of straw as he watched the mustang pace back and forth along the opposite side. The stallion couldn’t understand why he was confined when there was all that open space for him to run and enjoy. He figured the animal had suffered worse than being penned up and hoped six months from now, the horse would know he only had his best interest at heart. It would take at least that long to put the weight back on him. For the next few weeks, his plan, other than nutrition, was to simply get the mustang used to his presence and let him know no one here would hurt him.
In time, he would discover what made the stallion tick, just as he was determined to unearth what had driven Leslie to invite a stranger home with her and prompted her to lie about her identity last night. Her eyes portrayed the same desperate need as the stallion’s, the look irresistibly sucking him in in both cases even though he was still pissed about Leslie’s deliberate subterfuge. She might think she had a good reason for it, but as far as he was concerned, no rationalization was good enough for lying to a Dom. He could forgive her that infraction if he could learn the cause for her behavior. Like most dominant men, he was a sucker for a woman with needs, whether they were physical or emotional, it didn’t seem to matter.
Strange, he mused, his gaze shifting to the mountains he never tired of looking at, he knew next to nothing about Leslie, and yet couldn’t stop thinking about her. No woman had occupied his thoughts to this extent, not even those he’d come to know very well. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that made him want to pry every secret out of her. That urge hadn’t abated in the weeks following their first encounter, and last night seemed to have whetted his appetite to learn more instead of appeasing it. After she’d left the club, he had pulled Caden aside to glean as much information as he could without asking his friend to breach her privacy. Kurt had no problem doing that himself.
Caden had smirked at his interest and was happy to relate her full name, that she’d been absent from the club for two months without an explanation, and that she wasn’t close with any one Dom. Kurt figured she would either stay away from the club for a while to avoid him or ignore him if she returned, so if he wanted answers, his best option was to track her down on her turf. He ruled out showing up at her apartment as she would likely shut the door in his face. That left researching which school she taught at and surprising her where she’d be less inclined to risk attention by arguing with him.
It should give him pause how much he wanted to see her again, how much he longed to know what made her tick, and he craved to sink balls deep inside her snug pussy again. But it didn’t. He hadn’t felt this rejuvenated in a long time, and the fact it was because of a woman with trouble written all over her didn’t faze him in the least. He loved a challenge.
Speaking of challenges. Kurt turned from the corral to see Leland roll out onto the porch by himself, which was an improvement over sitting by his bedroom window. But his focus was still on the family plot instead of on therapy or the ranch. With a sigh, he strode toward the house noticing the cooler air for the first time. Or maybe it was the cold response he expected from his father when he offered to push Leland over to the graves that caused the chill racing over his arms.
Pausing at the steps leading up to the porch, he nudged his hat back and looked up at him as Leland turned to face Kurt. “I see you didn’t have any trouble getting out here.”
Leland scowled. “It doesn’t take much effort to push my skinny frame around.”
“You wouldn’t be so skinny if you’d eat better and put more effort into your exercises.” He held up a hand to ward off the rebuttal he saw forming on Leland’s face. “I don’t want to argue with you today. If you want, I’ll help you over there. Babs picked up the new arrangements yesterday.”
“I can feel their loss here the same as I can over there, or anywhere else.”
Leland swung his gaze back to the small plot. “Do you miss them?”
The abrupt question caught Kurt off guard. His father had never asked him how he felt about his mother or sister’s deaths. He’d been too busy grieving after Angela’s passing and too intent on blaming Kurt for Brittany’s to give his son’s heartache a thought.
“Of course I do, Dad. I loved them too.” He waited for Leland to say something else, but he just nodded, keeping his face averted, his eyes on the graves, dismissing Kurt yet again. Tugging his Stetson down, he spun on his heel, tossing over his shoulder, “I’m going for a ride.”
Kurt ate up the ground between the house and stable with long, frustrated strides, figuring if the stubborn old man could get himself outside he could wheel back in with no problem. He swore the longer he was home the more his father baffled him with uncharacteristic remarks and irritated him with his mulish refusal to put more effort into getting better. The man who had raised him to take pride in working the ranch alongside their employees, no matter how much money they possessed, would never have been content to sit back and wallow in self-pity for this long. He couldn’t figure out why Leland seemed to accept he was stuck in that chair for good when his doctors all said otherwise.
“I should’ve picked up another sub to fuck last night,” he muttered as he saddled Atlas. At least relieving his pent-up lust would have settled one of the issues plaguing him today. Unfortunately, once he’d learned Leslie’s identity, he’d wanted only her, before and after their scene. The question remaining – what to do about it now?
“Whoa. I was about to ask if you wanted to go for a drink, but I see you already have plans.”
Frowning at Amanda, who taught third grade, Leslie followed her co-worker’s gaze across the school parking lot and almost dropped her satchel when she saw Kurt leaning casually against the front of her car. She’d stayed at school later than usual to watch the faculty volleyball game, determined to get out of her self-imposed, unsociable rut and find other ways to entertain herself besides going to The Barn. Eying his tall, lean frame and relaxed pose, she went hot all over, her betraying body leaping on board with seeing him again even as her head was telling her no, stay away.