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And what I see, I don’t hate. Not anymore. I worked too hard to understand myself, and better yet, protect myself. The past two years have been a hard, miserable journey, but I made it. I survived.
“He trusted me to stop him. The ultimate trust for a sadist with his kind of kinks.”
“What are his kinks?” When I hesitate, Matheson turns on the full charm of her good-cop routine. “Please, Ranay. The more I know, the more I can help him.”
I repeat what he said he wanted that very first night. “He wants to scare me. He wants to hurt me. And then he wants to fuck me so hard he’s hurting and scaring me all over again. Even better if I bleed.”
Matheson gulps. “Bleed?”
“Yeah. That’s his main kink. He wants the blood.”
“And you still don’t believe he’d kill you.”
“Not on my life.”
32
Wagging her tail, Sheba sits at my feet, patiently waiting while I unlock the front door.
With her by my side, I want to be back in Charlie’s house. Nothing will get past her. She looks a little odd with the bare patch shaved on her shoulder, but Dr. Wentworth has been so pleased with her recovery that she let me bring her home after two nights’ stay at the clinic.
Sheba brushes past me into the house, trotting quickly through every room. At first, I think she wants to make sure no one broke in again, but when she returns, she lays down on the rug, stretches out her paws, and lowers her head to the floor. Whining, she stares at the door.
Waiting for Charlie to come home.
Blinking back tears, I squat down beside her and stroke her head. “I know. I miss him too.”
She lifts her head and stares at me expectantly. The longer I hesitate, the more anxious she becomes. Her ears flicker up and down, her tail swishing on the floor, only to stop, stiff, like a brush. She cocks her head, waiting.
A command. She wants a command. But what?
She got shot and almost died. I’ve done nothing but worry about her and Charlie and deal with the police. She must know we’re in danger. I stroke her and croon softly. She whines and licks my chin, but keeps staring at me, her large eyes locked on my face.
“I miss him too, girl. I want him to come home so badly, I can’t bear it. I hate being alone. I wish it were all over. Everything. Done.”
She whines again, her ears drooping. Disappointing my Master is bad enough, but disappointing his dog? Ugh. She wants something and I have no idea what. I run through all the commands I know. The easy ones, likesit,stay,come,ball,food,outside,lie down,rollover. Any well-trained dog knows those.
But Sheba also knowsguard. Probablyattacktoo, though that’s her instinct. This is something different. She’s sad, whining, needing something. Missing the Master, like me.
He would’ve known this day would come.
That makes me drop to my knees and cup her head, searching her doggie face. “What is it, Sheba? What did he teach you?”
She gives a little bark, short and brief, her ears perking. Yeah, I’m on the right track. Damn it, I wish she could talk and tell me what’s going on in that furry head of hers.
What other words did Charlie teach me?Strike. That’s close toattack.
Then it strikes me like a two-by-four to the head.
Red.
He taught meredfirst. If I failed the safeword test, none of this would’ve been possible.Red, my need for him to stop. My emergency word.
Emergency.
Holding my breath, I whisper, “Red.”
Sheba races to the back door. We can’t go out that way, not with the plywood still covering the door. I zip my coat up and grab my keys, just in case we need to drive somewhere. I open the front door, and she runs out, pausing on the porch steps while I shut the door. Then she leads me around the house to the backyard. Without hesitating she goes to the outdoor shed and sits in front of the door, waiting for me to catch up.
