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His phone buzzed. Tish had done as he’d told her, letting him know how she was doing. She’d been aware but floaty on the way home. Her text said she’d taken a shower, done some paperwork, and was now going to bed. Mental acuity and physical wellbeing confirmed.
He sent her a sleeping zzz happy face. He’d check on her again in the morning.
He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if Tish hadn’t seen Les, and Les had left, unnoticed by either of them. He would need to help her understand what his and Tish’s relationship was, but he’d handle that later. The important thing was she was in his bed, warm and safe.
Next thing. He considered which Wilder family member to contact and settled on Rory for two reasons.
Rory was his best friend, and he was a Dom himself.
It was late, but Rory’s day started early. He’d see it in the morning. Using his own phone, Brick typed out the text and sent it. Your sister is here in Richmond. She lost a patient, a kid, and needs to regroup. Doesn’t want to talk about it yet, but she’s safe. Unless your mom is looking for her, suggest not saying anything yet. Let her do it when she’s ready.
His phone buzzed in a matter of seconds. Brick grimaced, but it made sense. With his mother right down the road, living alone, Rory would always rouse for a text, even if he and Daralyn had gone to bed.
Shit. Understood. Why’d she come your way?
For the reason you’d expect. She’s what I thought she was. Maybe as deep as Daralyn. And before you make me reach through the phone to kick your ass, my first priority is helping her deal with this. I’ll take care of her.
Those typing-in-process dots strobed for several minutes, as if Rory was going over a variety of responses. It made Brick a little edgy. Which he squelched. He shouldn’t be acting like a possessive Dom before he had the official right to do so.
Make sure she calls me in a couple days. Sooner if she’s up to it. Let me know if either of you needs anything.
He acknowledged with a thumbs-up, glad Rory wasn’t calling to ride him for more. But he expected Rory had seen and noted the important part.
I’ll take care of her.
Daralyn, Rory’s wife and submissive, could get close to catatonic when pushed, thanks to a childhood too horrific to contemplate. She’d improved slowly after Rory’s family took her in and helped her reclaim her life. But once she and Rory came together, her natural and deep submissive orientation finding the love of the right Master, the progress had accelerated. Her astonishingly strong soul and generous heart had carried her through hell, but now they were also nurtured by genuine happiness.
Les had a strong soul and generous heart, too. Plus she’d been born into a far better support system than Daralyn. She’d be okay. It didn’t stop Brick from hating what she was going through.
In his first year doing search and rescue with the Richmond fire department, he’d found a man trapped by fire in his apartment, a video game developer barely in his twenties. Brick was taking him toward the door when the ceiling collapsed. The impact knocked Brick back into the hallway. The kid hadn’t been so lucky. Brick would never forget that last look of terror on his face, the outstretched hand as he vanished under a truckload of flaming debris, too much of it, too hot. Not even a remote chance of digging him out alive.
When they sifted through it later, he’d been found, with a desiccated arm still partially outstretched. The ones you almost saved, or felt you could have saved, were the worst.
He returned to the bedroom. She was still out, but her fists were clenched against her chest, and she was making fearful noises in her sleep. He took off his clothes, put on a pair of sleep shorts, and slid under the covers with her. Even with two blankets and the sheet, her skin was cold. She was shivering. Necessary as it had been to touch base with her roommate and family, he cursed himself for taking this long to come to her.
His substantial bulk was a heat magnet, drawing her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, curving his hand over her hair. It was still damp, but that didn’t matter to him. He tucked her full against him.
Like any red-blooded male who wanted a woman, there were plenty of things he’d like to do to and for her. He wanted to hear her scream herself hoarse from her orgasms. He wanted to see all the emotions that went with that kind of surrender cross her face, fill her beautiful hazel eyes. For good sex, he could find and give pleasure with moderate effort. But bliss took spiritual commitment to the act.
He wanted to give her that commitment. This moment connected to that, his woman resting unafraid in his arms. Her trust for that came from the same well as what would allow him to put flame to her skin, spank her ass, or restrain her. Get her to kneel to him, compel her to call him Master or Sir.
The kneeling part had happened a little sooner than expected. The grim smile at that died away as his mind went to other things. It was as Beulah said. All medical students were told to expect this. While it would pull the rug out from under anyone, he thought there was more to Les’s reaction.
His job started with the end results of a fire, working backwards toward the origin, cause and fuel source. Les had the smarts and commitment to go the distance in medical school, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work. Yet those things that had concerned him a few weeks ago, when she talked about her rotations and clinical work, bugged him even more now. Because those warning signs had been evident before what had brought her to his door.
She’d been goal-driven since high school, qualifying for early admission to college. Rory had told him if she’d stayed for her senior year, she would have nailed the valedictorian spot. Instead she went to UNC-Charlotte, and met all requirements there to again accelerate her finishing time, obtaining her undergraduate degree in three years and securing a scholarship for a top-notch medical school.
She wanted to do her residency in her hometown. Their population of twenty-five hundred souls had one overworked doctor with two nurses and a part-time PA. Dr. Spring would welcome her with open arms.
Brick doubted it had ever crossed her mind, using her medical degree to earn a six-figure salary, drive a fancy car and set aside her Wednesdays for golf. She was an intelligent woman with a loving heart, with a deep attachment to home and community. Even so, the yearning she’d displayed at her mother’s care package had surprised him. After six years of shuttling between home and school, that reaction had gone beyond homesickness. It was a primal longing for that childhood sense of security.
It pissed him off with himself anew. But now that she was here, he’d help give her the space to evaluate the situation and look at the information from the right perspective.
Like the arson case he’d had on his desk recently. When the frustration overwhelmed him, Jed Hamilton, the sergeant of his unit, told him to join him for a weekend outing. He didn’t tell Brick what they’d be doing until they were sitting in a hangar and Brick was getting instruction on how to jump out of an airplane.
For the next couple hours, Brick had only one occupation, thinking he’d lost his fucking mind. But he found the courage to do it, leap out into the blue sky and tumble to earth.
Later, smoking a Cuban cigar next to Hamilton, he figured out the case. The smoke and fumes had funneled up a laundry chute system in the building, then gotten hot enough to reignite on the upper floor. That had led to the mistaken idea the source was up there, which was counterintuitive, since lower floors had burned and fire rarely went from up to down.
