Nobody's Hero (40 page)

“Eyes on me.”

* * *

Karla bit down on her lip again until she
tasted iron. She took a deep breath and raised her gaze to meet his
cold, angry stare. At this moment, he wasn’t pleased with her and
the thought brought more unwanted tears to her eyes. She was
failing so miserably.

“Kitten, what’s going on?”

“I need to be your slave, Sir.”

“Why?”

Because you love your slaves more,
Sir
. “Because…I need to please you.”

“You’ve already pleased me—by being my
sub.”

“That’s not enough, Sir. I need to please
you—on a deeper level.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “Because I
love you, Sir.”
Oh, dear Lord
. She’d said the words, not
that they should come as any surprise to him by now. She’d never
made any secret of her love. But somehow equating love with
becoming his slave seemed so strange. When his expression became
guarded, she knew there would be no similar words coming from his
lips.

Something inside her died.

Karla couldn’t throw herself at him any
longer. His penis no longer throbbed against her clit either. She
had his answer. “I’m sorry if my love makes you uncomfortable,
Sir.” She choked on a sob she could no longer suppress. What was
with the fucking waterworks?

“Karla, you’re a wonderful sub and I’d be
honored to be your Dom, but there can’t be anything more than that.
I hope you can understand…”

“Yes, Sir. Permission to return to my room,
Sir. I don’t think I can perform tonight.” She hoped he knew she
wasn’t referring to singing. She saw hurt and regret in his eyes,
then he looked down at her bare breasts and she understood the
regret. At least he still wanted her for sex. But that just wasn’t
enough for her anymore.

“Permission granted.” He reached beside him
and handed her the bra. “Cover yourself first.”

She fumbled with the straps, but was
obstructed by her damned tears.

“Here, let me.” He took the bra from her
trembling hands. “Hold your arms in front of you.” Apparently, he
couldn’t get rid of her fast enough so he was going to dress her
now. More fucking tears spilled down her cheeks. She hated to
appear needy in front of him.

With the pads of his thumbs, he brushed the
tears aside and tilted her head until she met his gaze. “I’m sorry,
Karla.”

Call me kitten, Sir
.
Just one more
time.

But she knew she was no longer his kitten.
All she could be to him was the singer in his club, a friend with
benefits, and a sub he enjoyed playing with from time to time. None
of which was enough for her anymore.

She braced her hands on his shoulders and
eased off his lap. Before she reached her room, she’d made her
decision. Time to go home to Chicago. After making a couple phone
calls, she pulled her suitcase from the closet and began emptying
the drawers and closet, taking only what she’d brought with her.
She realized how little she owned. He’d chosen everything she wore,
and paid for it personally. Adam owned everything. God, he owned
almost everything in here. So why couldn’t he accept her as his
slave, too?

She’d sold her soul to win Adam’s love the
past couple months, and it had all been for nothing. She could
never give him what he wanted and needed—his perfect slave, Joni,
the woman who still owned him, body and soul.

* * *

Marc’s vintage Porsche was parked in his
spot. He was supposed to be working today.

Adam pulled the truck into the driveway
behind the rental Karla used. He’d be glad when he had time to go
vehicle shopping to replace the totaled SUV. First, though, he
needed to check online safety reports to find the safest vehicle
possible for her. If Karla had another accident, he didn’t want her
to be hurt like she had been in the last one—or worse.

Getting Karla her own car would give her more
freedom. Her growing dependence on him was worrisome. This wasn’t
the Karla he’d known a few months ago. Maybe he needed to talk with
her about pursuing her recording career again. She’d been so
anxious for that as a teenager that she’d even run away from home
at sixteen. With her voice and her songwriting abilities, she could
record CDs, MP3s, or whatever way music was being recorded these
days, and market them online. Did Goth singers go on music tours?
The thought of her singing in other clubs or in bars didn’t appeal
to him, though.

But having her own source of income other
than what she made singing at the Masters at Arms Club would boost
her confidence, too. He thought she’d bounced back to her old self
again until last night in the club when she’d begged to go back to
being his slave.

Last night, he’d realized how much he’d
inhibited her by controlling so much of her life. Hell, he’d
thought she’d been happy to be rid of that damned arrangement when
he’d safeworded and put an end to it. Okay, so he could have used a
little more tact when he refused to go back down that road. Had he
sounded like he was rejecting her, not just the Master/slave
lifestyle? He hadn’t intended that. But what the fuck was going on
in her head?

She said she loved you, jarhead.

Adam turned to stare at the passenger window,
half expecting to find Joni sitting beside him. She’d called him
jarhead the few times she chose to challenge his authority. He
heard her voice now just as plain as if he were listening to one of
her tapes. Was he losing it?

Adam picked up the hardware store bag from
the seat and heard the rattle of chains. While he very much looked
forward to restraining her to his bed with them, he sure as hell
didn’t want her to complicate things by trying to put chains on
him. Why’d she have to bring love into the relationship? Not going
to happen.

He sighed. He’d have another talk with her
today. She’d stayed holed up in her bedroom this morning, so he
hadn’t been able to say anything about what had happened last night
in the club. Something was going on inside her head and he needed
to find out what it was.

Exiting the truck, he walked toward the porch
humming
Under My Thumb.
If she wanted to play the slave, he
certainly could accommodate her fantasies, right up to chaining her
to the chair in his office while he worked on the books, with her
dressed in her harem-girl costume. He might need to buy more
chains, but he wouldn’t live with her in that lifestyle
twenty-four/seven.

He walked into the kitchen to find Marc
leaning against the counter. Alone.

“Where’s Angelina?” It was unusual to find
one without the other these days.

“The airport.”

“Where’s she going?”

“Nowhere, asshole.”

What the fuck?
Marc’s foul mood
registered for the first time. He’d never talked to him that way
before. Shit, the man was pissed. What the hell had Adam done?
“Come again?”

“What the fuck are you doing letting that
woman go?”

“Angelina?”

“No, god damn it. Karla. Keep up with this
conversation.”

Karla? Gone? “What the fuck are you talking
about? She was in her room when I left this morning.”

“Probably packing. So, she didn’t tell
you?”

“Tell me what? I just went to the hardware
store, for Christ’s sake. Hell, I haven’t been gone ninety
minutes.” He’d decided this morning he needed to outfit his bed for
bondage scenes with Karla, rather than having to take her to the
club bedrooms or theme rooms to play. He wanted to have her closer
to him. Why would she leave?

“She called Angelina last night and told her
she was leaving today. She had more stuff than we could get into my
Porsche, so Luke came over with the Land Rover. They’ve been gone
about forty-five minutes.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“I did.”

Fuck
. He pulled the phone out of his
pocket and saw he hadn’t turned it on this morning. Adam sank into
a chair at the table, at a loss for words. She’d left him? She
hadn’t even said goodbye? He’d thought she needed to sleep in this
morning, but was she avoiding him instead so she could sneak off
like this? She’d fucking left him? Why?

“You’re a damned fool, Adam.”

He glared up at Marc, who seemed to think her
leaving was his fault. What had he done? Was this all because he
couldn’t tell her he loved her last night?

“How you haven’t been able to see all these
months how much that woman loves you is beyond me. She fucking wore
her heart on her sleeve. Even sang her feelings out to you on club
nights, and you just walked around with your head up your ass. When
the cougar attacked you, I had to pull her off the cat because she
was trying to wrestle it away from you.”

“Karla attacked the cat?”

“Hell, yeah. Had it by the tail and wasn’t
going to let go until I finally pulled her off so Damián could take
care of it.”

Shit
. He had no idea she’d been in so
much danger. Why hadn’t she stayed put like he’d told her? Why had
she risked her life for him?

Because she loves you, jarhead.

Okay, Joni’s voice was starting to mess with
his head. He shouldn’t have listened to the rest of those tapes
last night when he hadn’t been able to sleep. Only she hadn’t
called him a jarhead in any of them.

“When you were lying in that hospital bed
unconscious for three days, the only time she left your side was
when we forced her to go eat. She didn’t want to leave you for a
minute.”

Adam had no idea she’d done that. No wonder
she'd had dark circles under her eyes and had lost weight. He was a
fucking dickwad with his head up his ass.

Still, it was one thing saying that to
himself. But being chewed out by a subordinate didn’t sit well with
him. As Marc’s former master sergeant, Adam was more used to
delivering a reaming out, not receiving it. Especially one he
didn’t even deserve. If he’d done something to hurt Karla and send
her running, he might think differently, but things had been going
pretty well between them since her accident. Until last night. He
thought they’d put that Master/slave crap behind them and moved on
to something so much better. So, what was she doing wanting to
revert to being a slave?

What was she doing trying to get him to love
her?

“What are you so afraid of, Adam?”

Adam met Marc’s gaze head on. “What the fuck
are you talking about?”

“You’ve been running scared since she got
here. Why?”

Adam didn’t need to answer to a corpsman.
Whoa
. They weren’t in the military anymore. Marc was his
partner and friend now. Much as it irked him, he also had to admit
the younger man was dead to rights, too. Adam had been on the run
from her. But all that had changed after that night he’d taken her
virginity. At first, it had only strengthened his need to be
responsible for protecting her—from him. But when he’d tried to
push her away, he’d only managed to pull her closer, until he’d
nearly lost her in that accident out of stupidity.

That night changed everything, he realized.
He didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t want anyone else to be his
sub. He didn’t want anyone else—period.

So what the fuck happened last night? What
made her think he’d want to crush her lively spirit and make her
his slave when their relationship had been so much more enjoyable
with her as his sub, albeit a bratty one? At least she wasn’t
predictable and dull, the way his life had been before she came
back into it this past summer.

Adam felt a hand slap the back of his head,
bringing him back to the present. He looked up to find Marc glaring
down at him. “I asked why you’re running, Adam.”

When Adam glared back, Marc backed off.
“Sorry, sir. But you asked me the same thing not too long ago.
Remember?” Marc glanced down at the table. “You got me to wake up
before I’d totally screwed the pooch with Angelina. It’s taken me a
while to regain her trust after lying to her. Shit, from some
things she said the other night, sounds like I still have work to
do in that area.” He looked up again and Adam could see the pain in
his eyes. “If I’d listened to you and ‘fessed up sooner, I wouldn’t
have hurt her like that. She’s more than I deserve, but at least
she gave me another chance.”

“It’s nothing like that with Karla and me.”
Adam had never lied to her. Not that he knew of anyway.

“No, but you’re running just as scared and as
fast as I was. I didn’t know Joni, but I know how much you loved
her.”

Adam looked down at his hands, unable to make
eye contact with Marc. “I didn’t love her the way I should have.
I’ve never been able to love anyone.” It just wasn’t in him.

“Bullshit.” He watched Marc raise his hand as
if to head slap him again before catching himself. “Adam, you may
not get all mushy about it, but the way you protect and take care
of those you love is as clear as the scars on your back. Not just
women, but everyone around you. Look at this bunch of misfits you
rescued in Iraq and took under your wing when you took a notion to
start this club. Hell, Damián probably wouldn’t have survived the
week after his discharge from rehab. I’d probably be sitting behind
a desk at my family’s ski resort working up to my first heart
attack. Even Grant’s found a haven here from whatever she’s running
from.”

Adam realized he probably needed to have a
talk with her. Grant had shown up last winter full of anger about
something and filled with secrets. He’d let Marc stew about his
women problems damn near a year before talking with him. He didn’t
know if Grant had man problems, or something else, but maybe he
shouldn’t wait so long with her.

Shit, he and his co-owners sure were a
fucked-up mess when it came to relationships, though, so chances
were Grant was too. But he looked out for them as any master
sergeant would. Just like he continued to help take care of Garcia
and Miller’s families. Marines looked out after each other. Didn’t
mean anything more.