How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (43 page)

“Baby?” a soft voice said, and she startled out of her daze, realizing she’d practically fallen asleep on her feet. She relaxed into Ivan’s supportive arm around her waist. “I think we need to get you home.”

Giving in, she nodded sheepishly.

By the time they got Cassie home, her mother was in a tizzy, and they’d both been put straight to bed. Cassie fully intended to get to the bottom of all the events, just as soon as her head cleared a little bit.

Two days later, feeling no better in body than she did in spirit, Cassie sat on a hard straight-back chair in her father’s hospital room. He’d given the hospital staff no choice but to use padded cuffs on his wrists and ankles to keep him in his bed. He’d been admitted for his injuries but also for the testing he needed, after her Uncle Antonio had confirmed her report of her father’s erratic behavior with the medical professionals.

“Daddy, why?” she asked, looking down at her hands, which trembled. She’d barely gotten any sleep in the last couple of days and her nerves were well past frayed. Ivan had even tried to help, fixing her whatever foods and drinks he thought might soothe her, but the flashbacks had her in a state of adrenaline overload and her sleep had been plagued by nightmares.

“Huh?” he asked sharply, his grouchiness still evident despite the painkillers he’d been given.

“Why set my business on fire? You’ll probably be arrested for what you did at the shop, besides taking Aunt Rita’s car and causing a multi-vehicle accident. There were children in one of those vehicles who were injured. What if someone had died?”

“I don’t know anything about an accident!” Had his twisted mind and faulty brain already erased the incidents from his memory?

“I saw you on the security camera footage, running out the back door of my coffee shop after setting the fire. Why would you do that?”

His face twisted into a grimace as he yanked at the cuff attached to the bed rail and pointed a bony finger at her. “Women belong in the home, taking care of family. Cooking! Cleaning! But
you
? No! You are off serving strangers and having an affair!”

She frowned. “I’m not having an affair. I’m a single adult.”

He shook his head vigorously. “You’re my wife, and you are going to hell for having an affair with that son of a bitch Cutter. Bill told me! He saw you!”

“When? Bill doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“He told me after you were arrested that he saw you and that Cutter son of a bitch together,
kissing
! How could you?”

She froze as realization came to her. “What is my name?”

He scowled at her.
“¿Eres estúpida? I
know who I married,
Delicia
!”

“Oh no…”

“And if you don’t work for me at
my
restaurant like a good wife should, you certainly are not going to open your own place and compete with me.”

“Wait a minute.” She took a deep breath. “Bill told you I cheated on you the night I was arrested after the high school football game?”
Why?

“Yes, isn’t that what I said? Bill is loyal to me. He saw them—
you—
together in the office of the volunteer fire department station—embracing!”

“You’re confused. I’m not Delicia, Dad. I’m your adult daughter, Cassie, and I run my own life. Whatever happened was decades ago and has nothing to do with me or Samson and Ivan Cutter.”

His frown cut deep ridges in his face as he shook his head. When she’d been little, she’d thought him handsome, if a little frightening, and then life had taught her outer beauty could hide such ugliness. His perpetual frown had carved his inner bitterness into his visage over the years, making him remarkably unattractive.

“I’m still the head of this family, which you are a part of. I forbid you to have anything to do with the Cutter family.”

“Or what? You’ll punish me by forcing me to scrub your dumpster?”

He grew quiet as he stared at her, the labyrinth behind his obsidian-like gaze revealing he was already imprisoned in a mind that had lost its grasp on which events had occurred decades in the past or just days ago. “You are just as big a disappointment as your mother is to me. You don’t have a coffee shop anymore, so now you
have
no choice but to stay home and be a good wife to your husband, and a good mother to your children.”

“My children are grown adults, and I’m single, Dad. Did you know your grandson Joseph was in the shop
with me
when you set that fire? Besides all the people you hurt in the accident you caused, you could’ve killed me as well as your own grandson that night.” She held up her forearms, which were wrapped in a light gauze bandage as proof.

“Joseph?
No
, the shop is closed on Sundays. No one was there.” He shook his head as if he could stop facts from being facts just because that was the way he wanted it. “You’re lying! I made sure the shop was closed before—” He yanked at his wrists in the cuffs while casting around a sharp gaze as if he was looking for spies. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re trying to get me to confess to a crime I didn’t commit.”

“I saw you on the security cameras, and so has law enforcement. The accident you caused is also on video record. I think we’re done.”

She stood to leave, taking a long look at the man who had charted her course with an iron hand all those years ago, always so full of anger and driven by his need to control. Why did it always come down to that with the men in her life?

She knew whatever Bill had told her father about Mason and her mother was a lie, intended to ingratiate himself and fuel hatred for the Cutter family. Samson claimed to enjoy control, but his father had been a loving man, adoring his wife.

The realization was slow to dawn, but when it came, it enabled her to walk away without guilt. Her father wasn’t ruled by the need to control. He was ruled by anger and hatred. Samson wanted control, but he was ruled by a caring and loving heart.

“I want to go home!
¡Ahora!
”

She turned back to look at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry for your problems, but you’ve ruined the only home you had left.”

She nodded to Hank when she walked out of the hospital room. “What will happen to him?”

Compassion filled his eyes. “We’ll wait to see what the judge says, but I’d rule out release. He’s a danger to himself and society. The evidence backs up arson. Add in driving without a license, theft of a vehicle, and reckless driving—it’s not promising. We’ll see what the judge says.”

Unsurprised, Cassie nodded. “He was so humiliated and angry over Mom’s arrest all those years ago, and now he’s brought even worse trouble on his own head.”

Several of his family members had already agreed to give statements attesting to his behavior and his ranting about the coffee shop, insisting that if she didn’t have it she would do “her duty” as a good wife and mother.

Even though she knew none of his accusations were true, she felt beat to a pulp by his hateful diatribe, his words still echoing in her weary head.

She pulled up in front of the house, relieved that Samson and Ivan’s vehicles were already there. There was no doubt in her mind that she could take care of herself, and even chart a course to rebuild her business, thanks to her insurance policy, but it was comforting to know they were there for her, and willing to step in and help however she needed them to.

“Thank you for bringing them back into my life,” she whispered out loud. “Thank you for protecting me and sending friends to save us.”

If Dad had been in his right mind, would he have cared that I was in the coffee shop with Joseph?
She would probably never know. Tears of frustration and exhaustion flowed from her eyes and she didn’t even try to wipe them away.

She jerked wide awake with a cry and her hands balled into fists when Samson eased open her car door. She panted as the disorientation settled and noticed the concern in his eyes as he reached in for her. “I’ve got you,
chiquita
. Relax.”

His tone of voice and his hold were gentle as he carried her up the walkway to the house, after closing and locking her car. She couldn’t find the energy to question his need to carry her, and the truth was that she felt safer with him and his brother than just about anywhere else on Earth right then.

* * * *

Knowing the time was right, Samson kissed the top of her head and nodded at Ivan as he opened the screen door for him. Samson watched her expression as she wiped her cheeks and pulled herself together. She’d been trying so hard to be strong, but she was at the breaking point.

His gut curled at the spark of anticipation he couldn’t deny. Cassie had asked to experience firsthand the Dominant, sadistic side of his nature. He knew she had lingering questions about whether or not she could handle that part of him. He’d held off only because he wanted her to be in the right mindset, in this instance the same place that Victoria was in when she experienced too much stress or a loss in the operating room. Overwhelming powerlessness.

He’d seen the signs—her sleeplessness, the nightmares, the post-adrenaline shakes and twitches as she relived the fire through flashbacks.

Taking her directly into the bathroom, he set her down, made eye contact with Ivan, and tilted his head toward the shower.

Ivan reached in and turned on the water so it could warm up, and then stepped out of the room and went down the hall. Samson tipped her chin up so he could look into her bloodshot, distraught gaze. Her posture stiffened as she blinked back her tears, and she probably didn’t even realize her hands were still clenched in fists, but she wasn’t defensive. She was holding it together—barely.

“You’re so pent-up you don’t know what to do with yourself, do you?”

Her sweet eyes, the color of sherry lit by firelight, were desolate as she looked up at him. The only other hint of her state was in the trembling of her chin as she darted her glance around and then focused on his hands.

Finally, she nodded and then shook her head.

Sweet chiquita
. To be needed like this filled the ache in his chest from seeing her in pain. Unlike with Victoria, he was invested emotionally in this pain. She hurt. He hurt. And he knew how to make it better.

He unbuttoned her blouse, his desire to give her what she needed ramping up with every ragged breath she took.

His cock grew so hard and tight it was nearly painful, but he pushed the sensation to the back of his mind. He was hungry for another, darker fulfillment as he assessed her submissive stance. Her pulse jumped in her throat.

“Cassandra, after I undress you, I want you to pin your hair up and get into the shower. Soak under the hot water for a few minutes. When Ivan joins you, he will bathe you. Be still and let him.”

“Yes,” she whispered with a nod and then glanced up at him. “Yes, Sir.”

He unbuttoned and pushed her jeans down along with her underwear, slipped her shoes and everything else off and tossed it aside, then stood and removed her bra. The vulnerability in her eyes called out his protective side.

There was a part of him that was so angry he wanted to punch Jorge Villalobos in the mouth. Not the Jorge that was obviously suffering a dementia-related decline, but the monster who had abused Cassie emotionally and verbally for her entire life. But it wasn’t the need to inflict pain that he focused on now. The need to help Cassie was far greater, to give her what she needed to get past her father’s betrayal and the sacrifice of her dreams, and was tinged with desperation—and guilt because he’d ever left her behind. But she’d dealt with all of it on her own because she was a woman of strength. A woman he wanted to be strong for now.

She turned to the shower without another word, grabbing her hair clip from the vanity and twirling her long, dark locks into a messy knot on top of her head. Her soft exhalation and the way she tilted her head back as she moved under the steaming spray made his cock jerk and ache to be buried deep inside her softness and warmth.

Ivan met him in the hallway and he nodded approval when he saw that his brother was bringing a full glass of water from the kitchen. Ivan said, “I thought she might be dehydrated.”

“Good guess. Make sure she drinks all of that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I need you to trust me. This is our moment. I know you may not like it, at least not at first, but what I’m about to do is exactly what she needs. You’ll understand why afterward, and you and I can talk more about it later if you want.”

Ivan nodded. “What can I do?”

“Observe. Make sure she knows you’re there. Let me do the talking. Is the oven off?”

“Yes. I just took dessert out and it’s cooling on the counter. Everything else is ready.”

“I’m going to go set up in the bedroom. Make sure the shower is warm enough to relax her, and rub her shoulders. I noticed they were stiff. She’s probably wondering what’s going to happen next, but try to keep conversation to a minimum. I’ll be ready when you see the light go off across the hall.”