Perfect Submission (7 page)

She blinks back tears, setting her jaw and
forcing her gaze out the window. .

I feel a surge of protectiveness. “It’s not
for long,” I reassure her. “I arranged an interview with the local
police, so the judge is bending your rules on bail and letting you
out of the state to answer their questions. Hopefully, we can get
everything we need on Britney and be home before tomorrow
night.”

Isabelle nods, but I can tell she doesn’t
believe me. I can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now,
going back to the place that caused her so much pain and fear.

I pull her into my lap and cradle her,
resting her head against my chest. “You’re not the same girl you
were when you lived here,” I remind her. “You’ve built a whole new
life.”

“And look what’s happened: it’s all come
crashing down,” Isabelle counters. “I’ve been running so long, I
don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave my past behind. I’m right
back where I started.”

“No,” I correct her. “You’re older, and
braver, and stronger than before. And you have me with you this
time. I won’t let anything hurt you,” I promise. “We’ll face your
old ghosts. Together.”

* * *

When the plane lands, I have a rental car
meet us. Using GPS to guide us to the small town fifty miles
outside Gainesville where all this began. Isabelle stares out the
window at the scenery as it passes. Again, I marvel at her bravery
– and beauty.

Anyone else, and I’d still be furious at her
defying my direct order, but I’m realizing that our sub/Dom
relationship isn’t so black and white anymore. I respect Isabelle’s
choices, and when she took the risk to face Brent on her own, I
know she was doing it for the both of us: so we could move on to
the next chapter in her life.

“We can check in at the county sheriff’s
office later,” I tell her, turning off the highway. “They’re the
ones who had original jurisdiction in the case. They ruled it an
accident back then, but they need to interview you for the fresh
charges.”

“Will you stay with me?” Isabelle asks.

I give her a nod. “Of course.”

As if wild animals could drag me from her
side.

As we drive, the landscape outside the
windows gets more rural. Wide-open woods and swampland, with small,
run-down homes and trailers set back from the road. It’s hard to
imagine Isabelle growing up here: the woman I first met with
Ashcroft was always so polished and perfect, she acted like she’d
been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and designer heels on
her feet. But it was all just an act.

“It reminds me of where I grew up,” I tell
her. Isabelle looks over, surprised.

“In Scotland?”

I nod. “It was a poor area too. Rural, in
the Highlands. But beautiful. Coal mining and ship-building were
the main trades for jobs, and when those dried up twenty, thirty
years ago, a lot of people sank into unemployment and never got
out. I was lucky,” I add, “My parents worked hard, dad retrained
with computers. It was a modest living, but it was something.”

“But you still left,” Isabelle says.

“I wanted more,” I reply simply. “I felt
trapped, stifled by the lack of opportunity. I had big dreams, I
wanted it all.”

“And you made it,” Isabelle says, admiration
in her voice. “You worked for everything you have now. Not like
me.”

“Don’t say that,” I scold her gently. “We
were both fortunate. Ashcroft chose us both, for whatever reason.
He saw something in us, I guess. But what you did after that, it’s
all you.”

“I haven’t done anything,” Isabelle’s voice
twists. “Unless you count shopping and lunches.”

“And fund-raising, and all your charity
work,” I remind her. “You do a lot more than most women in your
situation.”

“Maybe. But being back here, seeing
everything I left behind, it makes me feel like it’s not enough.”
Isabelle exhales. “I mean, what if Ashcroft hadn’t adopted me?
Would I have wound up like Britney? Like my mother?”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I tell
her honestly. “Don’t let all these old memories drag you back.
We’re here for a reason, don’t lose sight of that.”

Isabelle gives me a small nod.

“We’re almost there.” I turn down another
back road, the car bumping on the uneven track. I wonder if we’ve
taken a wrong turn, but the address Jake found is right here: a
small, single-level house that’s seen better days. The porch screen
is torn, and the railing hangs off the edge.

“I guess we know why she took Brent’s
money,” I remark.

“And what she’s spending it on.” Isabelle
nods toward a new satellite dish on the roof, and a new-looking car
in the drive.

We get out. “Are you ready?” I ask.

Isabelle gives a determined nod. “She was a
sweet kid. I’m sure if I just talk to her, explain what her lies
mean for me, she’ll take them back. She’s probably in way over her
head. You know how Brent can be.”

We climb the front step and I knock on the
door. But when Britney comes to open it, there’s no sign of the
sweet kid Isabelle’s been talking about.

“What?” Britney demands, pushing the screen
door open. She’s wearing cutoffs and a tank top, revealing an ugly
tattoo. Her hair is bleached and ratty, and her face is tired,
looking far older than her years.

“Britney?” Isabelle sounds shocked. “It’s
me. Izzie Johnson.”

Britney looks freaked. She tries to slam the
door, but I stick my foot in the way and elbow it open. “Not so
fast,” I tell her.

“I just need to talk to you,” Isabelle begs.
“Please, it’ll only take a minute.”

Britney’s eyes dart between us. “Fine,” she
says, standing back from the door. “But only for a minute. I got to
go.”

“Thank you.” Isabelle sounds grateful. She
heads inside and I follow, looking carefully around. It’s a
run-down room with peeling wallpaper, but I can see a stack of
shopping bags and delivery boxes in the next room.

I make sure Britney is looking the other
way, then I take out my phone and set it to ‘record.’

“It’s good to see you,” Isabelle says. She
smiles at the girl. “How have you been?”

Britney doesn’t offer us anything to drink.
She sits heavily on the couch and folds her arms, defensive.

“What do you think?” Britney scowls back.
“Not everyone got taken off to some fancy big-city house to live
with a perfect family.”

Isabelle’s face falls. “I’m sorry,” she
whispers, even though she has nothing to apologize for.

I look at Britney and see the bitterness in
her eyes. I can already tell, she’s the kind of person to blame
everyone but herself for her lot in life. So instead of trying to
make things better for herself, she’s tearing down Isabelle
instead.

“We heard you’ve been talking to the
police,” I speak up, trying to hide my anger.

Britney doesn’t look ashamed. “Maybe.” She
gives a sullen shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Your lies concern me very much.” I glare.
“You’re saying that Isabelle killed your foster father on purpose.
Why would you do that?”

“It’s what happened. And you can’t say
otherwise,” Britney smirks. “Those prosecutors in New York say
you’re in real trouble now, Iz. Not so perfect anymore.”

I squeeze Isabelle’s hand.

“I don’t understand,” she says to Britney.
“Why would you lie like that? Do you understand what they’re going
to do to me? I could spend my life in jail!”

“Yeah, well I have to spend my life here,”
Britney scowls. “You think I haven’t seen you, all these years? In
all the magazines, having the time of your life. What makes you so
special?” she demands. “Why should you get to live the high life
while we’re all stuck back here?”

“I can’t answer that,” Isabelle sounds
wretched. “But lying now? Britney, please. You weren’t even home
that day. Don’t you remember? You were at school.”

“I never made it to school,” Britney says
flatly. “I cut. So I could have been anywhere that day. Including
at home.”

“You know I didn’t kill anyone,” Isabelle
whispers. “It’s a lie. Please. Don’t do this.”

I hate watching her beg like this, but
Britney is unmoved.

“I’m telling the truth.” She smirks. “Crisis
of conscience, like. I’m doing my job as a good citizen, speaking
up now so you don’t get off free.”

“Who told you to say that?” I demand, my
temper fraying just listening to her foul lies. “You sound like
you’re reading lines from a script.”

“Nobody told me.” Britney looks nervous.
“It’s the truth.”

“It’s a pack of lies,” I declare. I get up,
looming over her.

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Britney
has the good sense to look scared now. “You need to leave.”

“Please, Britney,” Isabelle begs her. “Don’t
do this to me. I always looked out for you, I tried to protect you
from Clayton, so he wouldn’t go after you. Please, you can’t lie
like this. I need you to tell the truth.”

“And what about what I needed?” Britney
shoots back, her face twisted with bitterness. “Do you know what
happened after that fire? I got bounced back into the system. One
home after another, for years, while you got to have a real family.
Money, and nice clothes, and everything you wanted. Why should you
get to live the good life, huh? It’s
my
turn to get ahead
now. You’ve had your turn. I got good money for making that
statement, and Brent says there’s another fifty K coming once you
get locked up.”

Isabelle gasps. “So he did pay you?”

Britney sneers. “So what if he did? Who’s
going to believe you,
killer
?”

Isabelle clings to me, tears in her eyes.
“Please,” she whispers. “Let’s go.”

“Not so fast,” I say, turning back to
Britney. “Nobody will believe Isabelle,” I say, bringing my phone
out from behind my back. “But they will believe you.”

I hit a couple of buttons, and replay
Britney’s words.

“
I got good money for making that
statement, and Brent says there’s another fifty K coming once you
get locked up.”

Isabelle gasps. “You recorded it?” she
blinks at me.

“Every word.” I smile.

Britney panics. “You can’t—”

“I will,” I growl. “Perjury, obstructing the
course of justice, wasting police time. You want to talk about
prison sentences, you’re looking at one right now.”

Britney gulps, her eyes darting around
again. “Wait. Please.”

“Give me one good reason why I should cut
you a break?” I roar, furious. “You don’t even know how much hurt
you’ve caused, the life you could have ruined.”

This girl would have taken Isabelle from me.
My Isabelle.

“I should call the police right now!” I
yell. Then I feel a hand on my arm.

“Don’t,” Isabelle says, sounding calm. She
looks at Britney with sympathy in her eyes. “We won’t call the
police,” she says, “On one condition. You call them first, and
withdraw your statement. Tell them you were mistaken, that you
weren’t there, and you don’t remember anything. Tell them the
truth, the real truth this time,” she says. “And we’ll leave right
now and never come back.”

Britney nods eagerly. “Whatever you want.
I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

Isabelle doesn’t blink. “I’m sorry too,
Britney. But you can’t blame me for everything that’s wrong in your
life. We were just kids back then, but you’re not a kid
anymore.”

She turns around and walks out the door.

I pause a moment longer. “She may be in a
forgiving mood, but I’m not so emotional,” I warn Britney. “I’m
keeping this recording. You pull anything like this again, and I’ll
be on the phone to your Sheriff. Then you can see what it’s like on
the inside of a prison cell.”

I storm out, but when I reach the car, I
find Isabelle sobbing, silent tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart in my
throat.

“Nothing,” she chokes out. “I’m just so
relieved.” She lifts her face, and I can see her smiling through
the tears. “It’s over. It’s all over now.”

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” I smile,
hugging her close. “We can go home now.”

“Yes.” Isabelle nods. “It’s time to go
home.”

The scene outside the car windows blurs with
my tears of relief.

It’s over. I can’t believe it, my nightmare
is finally done. The burden of the secrets I’ve been carrying for
years melts away with every mile. I feel lighter, steadier.

Free.

Cam reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Ready to get back to New York?” he asks.

“So ready.”

I turn to look at him. The strong jaw, those
dark eyes. Happiness washes over me, I’m so thankful to have him in
my life.

“You never doubted me,” I realize. “Even
when the police were saying those terrible things. You’ve never
judged me either, for what happened with Brent…”

“You don’t deserve any judgment.” Cam brings
my hand to his lips and presses a kiss on my palm. “You amaze me,
Isabelle, every day. You’ve made it through such hardship and
struggle. You’ve been strong enough to survive, and now, I swear, I
won’t let anything ever hurt you again.”

“I couldn’t have made it without you,” I say
softly. “You were the one who gave me the strength to leave Brent,
to finally break free from him. You’re the thought that kept me
going when I was locked up in jail. It’s all because of you. When I
think what might have happened if you hadn’t rescued me that night
in the club…”

I trail off. The thought is too terrible to
imagine. Would I still be under Brent’s cruel power, faking my way
through empty, shallow days spent trying to impress all those
society ‘friends’ with their luncheons and days at the club?

Would I still be going to sleep at night,
feeling all alone in the world, wishing for something real,
something that I didn’t even know how to put into words? I would
never know the intense pleasure and incredible release that comes
from being in Cam’s arms. Knowing him like I do, sharing myself
with him, completely.