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The man holding her could see his ruse hadn’t worked and he was about to be taken into custody. He pulled out his own gun and struck Alicia in the temple before letting her go and running away. Alicia slid to the ground and appeared to be dazed.
Brock reached her first and gathered her close. “It’s going to be all right, baby girl, Daddy’s got you.” He looked at an approaching team member. “Call 9-1-1 and get the paramedics and the police. Then call Cerberus and tell Seth what’s happened. I’ll either be at the hospital or back at home with Alicia.”
The next few minutes were something of a blur, but the paramedics arrived, followed closely by Royce and then the police. Alicia never lost consciousness but seemed unsteady. The paramedics determined that she was good to go as long as someone was with her.
“No worry about that,” said Brock. “Tell Seth I’ll write a full report from home. The team can fill the cops in on what happened, and if they need me, they can call. You’ll find the things Camille bought Alicia by my desk. If you could bring them home with you tonight, I’d appreciate it.”
Royce nodded. Brock stood up and helped Alicia to her feet before swinging her up in his arms to carry her towards the waiting Cerberus SUV.
“You and I are going home, baby girl. And then you and I are going to have a long talk about what the hell is going on, and this time I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“What if you can’t handle the truth?” she asked, playfully.
“I wouldn’t go there if I were you. I’m not Tom Cruise, and you sure as hell aren’t Jack Nicholson.”
CHAPTER 11
ALICIA
Her head was pounding. She had a goose egg and a splitting headache. It probably didn’t matter. The scar hadn’t bothered him. Once they arrived home, he took her upstairs.
“Strip,” he commanded.
She felt herself bristle. Was Brock the same as Ewan? Did he expect to just issue orders and she’d comply? She’d had enough of that before she left him.
“In case you missed it; I just got almost mugged. I’m not exactly in the mood.”
Brock rolled his eyes. “Neither am I. I want to make sure the paramedics didn’t miss anything. Once I’m assured about that, you’re going to slip into one of my t-shirts, and we’re going to go downstairs and sit on the couch.”
She managed to smile at him. He was kind and understanding. He helped her out of her things, including her bra and panties. He wadded them all up and tossed them in the trash. She quirked her eyebrow at him.
“Don’t start with me, baby girl. This is going to go a lot faster and easier if you just accept my help and that I’m the one in charge.”
Alicia decided she’d had enough excitement and arguments for the day. She stood slowly as Brock circled her, reaching out to gently touch an emerging bruise here and there. When he got round to the scar, he traced it with his fingertip. Normally she didn’t like being touched there and shied away, but something about the reverent way in which he touched it made her shiver with desire.
Brock moved in from behind, his body barely a whisper from hers. As he ran his finger down the ugly, puckered scar again, he murmured in her ear, “He did that to you, didn’t he?” She nodded. “He’d better hope someone catches up to him before I do. If I get to him first, I’ll kill him.”
It wasn’t said with anger or even much emotion. Just a simple statement of fact. She supposed that she should feel concern for Ewan’s safety, but she didn’t. In fact, she kind of hoped Brock found him first. The scar wasn’t even the worst of what Ewan had done, not by a long shot. Her body started to tremble as the horror of her marriage flooded her with memories she thought she’d long ago forgotten. They threatened to overwhelm her.
Brock’s hand came up to cup her breast, squeezing it gently and thumbing her rigid nipple. “At some point I’m going to want to put these gorgeous things in clamps,” he whispered as his other hand came up to treat her other breast with the same affection. Alicia shivered again, but this time it was pure arousal. “That’s my good baby girl. I don’t want you to ever shy away from me, and I sure as hell don’t want you thinking about him.”
“Yes, Sir,” she answered as she leaned back against his strength and closed her eyes.
“I know most of the Doms you’ve seen prefer that their women call them Sir or Master. I prefer Daddy.”
As he continued to stroke her body, allowing his hands to gently explore her curves, it occurred to her that for some reason, that was a far better term. “Yes, Daddy,” she purred.
“Good girl,” he said as he whispered kisses all along her shoulders and neck.
He moved away and she mourned the loss not only of his touch, but of the close proximity of his presence. Brock walked to the dresser and withdrew a large t-shirt from a drawer. Returning to her, he slipped it over her head, scooped her up in his arms and carried her downstairs. He set her down and sat on the couch with his legs spread slightly. It was easy to see his arousal matched her own.
“Do you trust Daddy, baby girl?” She nodded. “I need you to say it out loud.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Do you know what a safeword is?”
“Yes, but I know some of the girls use the stoplight system. I’d prefer just to use that.”
