Unfortunately, she was in no shape to get back to wherever she was staying. Why the hell was she here by herself anyway?

That was his first question when she came out.

“Gabi has appointments,” she answered, looking up and down the hall. “Marcus was in court. They wanted Jessica or one of the others to come with me, but I thought I’d be all right.” She straightened her shoulders. “Vance is planning to return and escort me out. I’m fine now.”

“Sure you are, girl.” He flipped open his phone, called the FBI agent, said, “I’m taking Kim home,” and shut it without waiting for an answer. He took her arm, ignored her trembling, and led her out to the parking lot. She tried to pull away at the taxi stop, and he gave her a stare that stopped her right fast. There were benefits to escorting submissives.

Once he got her in his truck and was safely on the freeway, he asked her the question that had been bothering him. “Did something happen the last time you saw Raoul?”

She looked up from her hands, her brows together. “N-no. He handed me over to my mom and said good-bye.”

“So what the hell happened that the sight of him makes you upchuck?”

“The sight…? You think I was sick because of Master R?” She stared at him.

Was the man insane? Kim’s hand curled around the strap of the seatbelt as she frowned at him. How could he think…?

Maybe they hadn’t seen the people leaving the courtroom behind them. Probably hadn’t even heard that oily voice—it wasn’t as if they’d painfully learned to pay attention to every nuance in it. “The Overseer came out of a room behind you. He spoke.” She shuddered, and her stomach roiled queasily. “I saw him.” Bandages…because his eyes… She tried to swallow.

“Hell no. Take a breath, girl.” Sam flipped the air-conditioning to high. “You puke in my truck, and I’ll wallop your hide, no matter what Raoul says.”

The air—and the snap in his voice—wiped away the memories and settled her stomach. Her hands unclenched. Then her brain kicked in. “You thought seeing Master R made me sick? God, Sam, did he think that too?”

“Yep.”

“Oh no.”

“You planning to see him while you’re here?” Sam asked, his fingers tapping impatiently on the wheel as the traffic slowed, horns blaring.

“I…” She sighed. Her flight out on Saturday had been a compromise. Rather than leaving today, she’d left herself time to call him this evening…if she decided to. “I’ve changed my mind so many times I’m dizzy. I want to see him so…so…” So badly that her insides went all quivery at the thought. “Then I remember he wants a-a”—not a slave, he’d said—“a full-time submissive. Not me.”

“You didn’t like serving him?” Sam asked easily, as if his question was no more important than asking if she liked Chinese food.

“I…” Yes. “Dammit, no. I was pretending.” I’m a bedroom submissive. No more. She stared out the window at the cars in the next lane. Old man—probably retired here. A married couple with young children—vacationers.

“Pretty good pretense, subbie,” he said, his voice level. “You looked contented as a cat in cream sitting at his feet.”

The stab slashed painfully, and she scowled. “Well, I lo—like him. A lot. That doesn’t mean I want to…to slave for him.”

Sam snorted. “Missy, when I pick a woman to scene with, I don’t choose a lightweight who enjoys a widdle spanking. I pick a masochist who wants what I can give her. I look for someone whose need for pain matches my need to give it.”

“I—”

“Shut up, girl.” He switched to the fast lane to get around a slow semi and returned to the middle lane. “A master like Raoul looks for a woman whose need to serve and submit matches his need to protect and take command. It’s a balancing act, missy, and in the best relationships, the master is as involved as the submissive. If you hadn’t loved being at his feet, neither one of you would have looked happy.”

Had Master R been content?

“So you ask yourself this: being under Raoul’s command and serving him, did it fill a need inside you? Make you feel whole when you might have not even realized something was lacking until then?”

“I—”

“Did I say you could speak?” The chill in his voice kept her silent, and in silence, he finished the drive, then escorted her to Marcus’s house.

Marcus let her in. “Sam, what are you doing here?”

“Met her at the courthouse.” His light blue gaze pinned her in place. “Do yourself some thinking, girl. And you call Raoul and explain why you ran, or I’ll beat your ass myself.” He gave her another hard look and stalked away.

After refusing to join Marcus and Gabi for supper, Kimberly did what Sam had ordered. At least the thinking part.

God, she’d loved seeing Master R. Had wanted to throw herself in his arms. Damn the Overseer for messing everything up. Master R might have hugged her, held her, kissed her. She sighed. But would that have answered her questions?

Kim scrunched down farther on the patio chair and watched the giant inflated swan drift aimlessly in the pool, batted by the tiny breeze. Just like me, she decided. Unable to make a decision at all.

She sighed and started thinking, trying to discard the past bullshit and her preconceived notions of how the world should be. I love Master R. That was a given.

Did she want to live with him? God, yes.

Did she want him in charge? Because he would be. He couldn’t help it. And okay, she liked it. Mostly. No matter how much she’d told herself otherwise, when she’d asked him to be her master again, it hadn’t been totally because of the slavers and her recovery. She wanted him in charge more than just in the bedroom. The acknowledgement made her wince. How much more?

Would he try to make her into something she didn’t want to be?

Do I trust him?

How could she not? Like her mom said, he’d taken a knife for her. But risking your life to save a person was very different from being in command over them in all the day-to-day stuff. She put her feet on the chair and laid her head on her knees.

The memory of his family’s accusations was like sand in her shoes. She could walk, but it abraded her nerves. She didn’t believe them, yet she needed to find out what had happened with Master R’s wife before she could resolve any of the other questions.

Her plane left tomorrow morning.

She returned to the living room where Gabi was playing with her cats, Hamlet and Horatio. “Where’s Marcus?”

“He had to run back to his office for something. Did you finish your thinking about Raoul?”

Kim gave her a rueful smile. There was nothing like a girlfriend to know what was going on without explanations. “Mostly. But I need some help. I met Raoul’s family in the hospital. He’d told me his family doesn’t talk to him because of his lifestyle, but they said he was abusing his ex-wife. I… It’s been bothering me.”

“Damn, I bet. But Raoul? Abuse someone. No way.”

“That’s what I told them. But, Gabi, I need to know.”

“Mmm. I get that.” Gabi tossed the fuzzy mouse, and the two cats gave chase. “He was already divorced before I met him. Before Marcus and Jessica too. But I bet Jessica can tell us who to ask.”

One phone call and a nice drive later, they met Jessica at the door of the Shadowlands. Despite her nerves, Kim laughed at the look on the guard’s face when he saw them. Ben didn’t approve of their casual shorts and T-shirts and had made them remove their sandals and sneakers. He also carefully explained that Z, Marcus, and Master Raoul weren’t present…as if the knowledge would give them second thoughts. Not.

This early on a Friday night, the Shadowlands was just revving up, and only a few stations were occupied. Cullen manned the bar, his back to them, and from the way Gabi and Jessica headed for the nearest, darkest sitting area, Kim started to worry. “You aren’t going to get in trouble, are you?”

The two exchanged glances and snickered. Jessica said, “I’m not allowed to be here without Z. Ever. If he sees us, Master Tattletale Cullen will be sure to tell him—if he doesn’t toss me out all by himself.”

Gabi gave Kim a rueful grin. “Same here. Marcus’ll throw a fit. See how much I love you?”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. Just point the trainee out and leave before anyone sees you. I can—”

Jessica shook her head no. “Sally doesn’t know you. She might be gossip girl, but she’s really discreet who she shares with.”

“Kim, we love our doms, but there’s times when a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.” Gabi grinned at Jessica. “Besides, we’ve been so angelic lately, we’re in danger of losing our official ‘brat’ status.”

“Can’t have that,” Jessica agreed. “And there’s our target.” She pointed to the food tables and waved, catching the eye of a pretty brunette who grinned and headed over.

She had an energy that reminded Kim of a child, all enthusiasm, no worries about dignity. Then Kim frowned. Wasn’t this the submissive who that nasty dom had slapped?