Once again, sexist pig assumption triumphs over reason and logic.
“Okay, okay.” The security employee held up his hand. “Hell, a little sympathy here. She cracked two of my ribs over a ream of papers.”
“No, because you punched her,” Peter said patiently. “She was defending herself.”
“Fine. Listen, I don’t want any crap for hitting her. Hell, if I brought assault charges, I’d not only lose my credibility, but a judge would look at the two of us and laugh me out of court. It doesn’t change the fact I’ve taken easier beatings when I was a bouncer at a strip bar. Fuck, guys, she was caught red-handed, going through our garbage.”
“If you throw something in a Dumpster in a public alley, there’s no guarantee of privacy,” Ben said automatically.
“Figures that you’re a lawyer.” The guy eyed Ben like he was a cockroach who’d crawled up on his mat. “Is that what this is about? You guys here to bring a suit against me or something?”
“No,” Peter said, deadpan. “My colleague is thinking of hiring her for his own security needs.”
The bear-guy relaxed considerably, grunted. “You’ll have to stand in line. My boss says if she ever wants a job, he’ll pay her twice what he’s paying me.”
* * * * *
Back out on the street, Ben stopped at a lightpost. Peter leaned on the other side of it, pulled out a candy bar and broke it in half, offering. Ben shook his head. He wanted a drink.
“Can’t wait to tell Dana about this,” Peter commented. “She’s been looking for a sparring partner more her size. Maybe I’ll ask that guy, since Marcie may be out of both our leagues.”
“Yeah.” She’d taken on a guy probably three times her size and come out on the winning end. Because she’d been level headed, prepared for what she faced. It was way different when an attack came from a blind spot, from someone she trusted. She’d let him tie her up, beat the living hell out of her, and came back asking for more, because she believed he’d never abuse the faith she put in him. The friendship she believed they’d shared. The fact they were family.
Yeah, she’d been kicking on a door he’d intended to keep shut, a place she had no business being, but for him to blame that on her made him more of a shit than he already knew he was. “I’m fucking going home.”
“No you aren’t.” Peter chewed on nougat and chocolate. “You just think you’ll ditch me if you tell me that.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“It’s girls’ night. Dana’s out late. I’m lonely.”
“Well, as much as I love being your substitute cuddle toy…” Ben drifted off. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “The girls were all at Cass’.”
“Yeah. They took care of her, man. She’s all right.” Now Peter’s expression changed from that neutral calm into something sharp and way more focused, though he kept his voice mild. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Nothing. He’d stopped thinking, which was why it had happened. If he closed his eyes, he saw her there again. Master L touching her, Frank undressing her. When he’d taken over, ironically he’d still been in control then. The practice of a lifetime had taken him through that session, every move choreographed, monitoring her stress level, her arousal, though something inside had been cold and numb. Then he’d hauled her outside and she’d hit him. That blow, the pain of it, and something had exploded. He’d just reacted, all that shit boiling up and over, all over Marcie.
Moving to the curb, he dropped down on it, to hell with whatever grime his custom tailored slacks were accumulating. “Fuck.”
He was suddenly really tired. Nothing and nobody to be pissed at, other than himself. Nowhere to go. Just an empty place, and an empty hole inside himself.
When his head dropped into his hands, he felt Peter approach. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
That large hand settled on his shoulder, making him scoff. “You think I really deserve to be comforted? I hurt her, Peter. Just like I told that asshole. She weighs half of what I do, and I threw her up against the car like a doll. There’s no coming back from this.”
“Yeah, there is. It’s just a hard road.”
“You know what?” He shoved Peter’s hand away, got back up. “I’m really sick of you all having that fucking tone with me. You don’t know what a hard road is. Not with what you have in your corner. It’s fucking Christmas every fucking day for you.”
What the hell was happening? He was shouting, his voice was hoarse. What had happened to him tonight? He was Ben O’Callahan, a lawyer with K&A, a sexual Dominant who always held control. He always kept his shit together. He was the fucking foam on the latte that rose above all of it. He’d been there for them whenever they needed him, always. He hadn’t let his friends down. But at this moment, he resented the hell out of every one of them.
“I’m going. Get the hell away from me.”
Peter rose as he was walking away. “You know, Jon said something pretty interesting the other day.”
“Doesn’t he always? The guy never shuts up.” Ben came to a halt though, bracing himself against another lightpost, fingers gripping it hard, the peeling paint over the metal.
“Yeah. He said that our women—Savannah, Cass, Rachel, Dana—when we met them, each was in a situation where she really needed someone’s help. Someone strong to stand at her back.
