She sounded more like herself now, her voice no longer that vacant whisper of a few moments ago that had galvanized his rage. Tyler looked up and her eyes were level, cool, remote. She reached into her purse, withdrew what looked like a handful of hundred-dollar bills and dropped them so they landed in her attacker's lap. By putting her hands over Tyler's hand on her tunic, she asked him to release her with insistent fingers. When he reluctantly complied, she knelt, reaching out to touch the robber's face, the bloody lip. She brought her face close and Tyler tensed but there was no reason to worry. The robber was frozen by this unexpected turn of events and a pair of arctic blue eyes.
"You can have my money. " Her voice dripped with disdain. "Snort it, drink it or give it to charity, it doesn't matter, because ill-gotten gains do nothing but curse you.
We make our own fate, our own karma, no matter our circumstances. If you have the integrity and strength of character to understand that, then you'll mail that money back to this club to the attention of Mistress Marguerite. If you don't, then God help you, because that money won't. "
Rising, she nodded to Tyler and the security detail. "Please let him go. I'm going home. "
She turned, a tall, elegant woman with torn and dirty clothing, her hair falling down on one side. She began moving toward her car, limping badly. Ten steps away she bent slowly and retrieved her keys.
Marguerite made it five more steps before Tyler caught her. He didn't stop her as she had expected. Didn't turn her around and make her explain or demand she act a certain way. He put an arm around her waist and supported her, taking her weight, pressing his hip against hers so she had no choice but to capitulate and let him help, despite the dangerous shudder that ran through her limbs, telling her how close she was to feeling the aftermath.
Taking her keys from her hand, he deactivated the locks on the BMW. The lights went on, a warm, welcome sight. What was it about your own car that was always so comforting? She understood how shiny Cadillacs appeared in the front yards of the poorest homes. A car felt like freedom, security. The ability to stay or to g
o, wherever, whenever one wished.
"Anything broken?" He asked it quietly.
"No. I'm sure the ankle's just twisted. It'll be fine with some ice. The rest is just some bruises and cuts. " She was also sure her back was going to be nicely black and blue in the morning. Mentally, she ran down what bath salves she had on hand at home, what medicinal teas she could use in compresses to minimize the aches and pains.
"I saw most of the fight running across the parking lot," he commented. "You're a tough lady. "
She didn't bother to answer that. He opened the car door for her and she got in, feeling his hand at her elbow, her waist, guiding her.
"I'm following you home. I won't try to come in but I'm going to make sure you get there safely. And don't argue with me, goddammit. " She laid her head on the headrest, looked up at him. Aware that he was holding her hand still, caressing her fingers. What could he do? Run that bath for her, carry her up those two sets of stairs she would have to face? As soon as she imagined someone doing that, the idea of taking care of herself became exponentially harder. She pulled her hand away. "Fine. I appreciate your concern, Tyler. You're a kind friend. " He dropped to one knee so they were at eye level, put one hand on either side of her face with infinite, inexorable tenderness.
"We're not friends, Marguerite," he said. "Come Friday. Don't back out. " Giving him a desperate look, she broke free, reached for the door. "Let me go, Tyler. Please. "
It was a long moment but he at last stood up, stepped back. She shut the door, started the car and pulled out, forcing her body not to shake, her stomach to stop its nauseous heaving. Forced herself not to look back and see his eyes which conveyed how much more he wanted to give her. Far more than she could accept.
Chapter Five
"I understand there was a scuffle of some type involving you and Marguerite out in The Zone parking lot the other night. Did she whip your ass?"
"Cute. No. I assume you know the real details. "
"Oh, yeah. " Violet Nighthorse's voice was dry, even over the cell connection. He assumed she was maneuvering her Stealth through Tampa's traffic with the professional ease and terrifying maneuvers of a NASCAR driver. "Mac won't let me go within ten feet of the exit doors at The Zone without him. Like I'm not a cop, just the same as he is. "
"The man loves you to the point of imbecility. "
"Yes, he does, doesn't he?" The smile in her voice was obvious enough to make Tyler roll his eyes.
"God save me from goofy newlyweds. " He sobered. "She fought him with the fear and rage of a cornered animal. Then slam, the drawbridge whips up. " There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Knowing you, it must have been hard as hell to let her drive away. "
"I followed her home. Made sure she got into her door. She didn't even look my way but she knew I was there. I sat outside until I saw her light go off. Hell, knowing her she turned it off to get rid of me. "
"Well, you're obnoxious and intolerably arrogant. " He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Always a good friend. And probably right. But I know she's drawn to me. You feel it from a sub, you know you do. "
"You think she's a switch?" Violet didn't bother to hide the disbelief in her voice.
"Yeah, I do. When we're interacting just the two of us, I think she might be playing the wrong side of the fence altogether. Then I see her top someone and she's so damn gifted at it. It's like she's two people. "
"One of the most terrifying Mistresses I've ever seen and you think she's a sub in Domme's clothing? Tyler, did you have a recent head injury I don't know about?"
"Now I know why I've been seeing of three of everything. Brat. Shut up and listen.
Marguerite is the perfect Mistress. Never out of control, never emotionally ragged. It rings false to me. It's like being a Mistress is the closest thing she can get to what she really wants without losing control, because the control's more important to her than anything else. There's something wrong, Vi. "
"You've said we're all damaged, Tyler. That's part of life. Your psyche gets bumped, bruised. Wounded. "