Only Murphy’s solid weight against my legs keeps me from falling over, and I start to shake.
“Fuck.” Wyatt runs his fingers through his hair and groans. “Never wake me up from a nightmare, Hope. It’s too dangerous.”
Murphy pads over to him, whines, then jumps onto the couch until Wyatt puts his arms around the dog and buries his face in his soft brown fur. “Sorry, pal. I’m okay.”
He repeats the words like it’s the only way he’ll believe them himself while I run back to the bedroom and hide under the covers.
“Don’t embarrass me in front of a client again. Ever!” Simon punches me in the side, and when I double over, he grabs my hair and drags me down the hall to the tiny, windowless suite in the center of the second floor. A bed, small dresser, and a quarter bath—just a toilet and sink—fill the space, but the defining feature? The padlock on the outside of the door.
“No! Please! I’ll be good. I promise.” I struggle to pry his fingers from my hair, but he’s too strong.
“If you cost me this deal, you’re never leaving the house again.” Shoving me face first against the wall, he yanks the thin straps of my dress down my arms, baring my back. His belt buckle jingles, and he snarls, “Don’t move.”
Tears stream down my cheeks. I know what’s coming. How much it’ll hurt. How I’ll have to sleep on my stomach for a week. He saves the belt for special occasions, and apparently, my defiant refusal to eat what he claims is a delicacy—a thousand-year-old egg that smells like garbage—is a special occasion.
“Ten lashes for your attitude and another ten for wasting such an expensive meal.”
The first strike steals my breath, and I bite my tongue so hard it bleeds. I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me beg. But after the ninth time the belt hits my flesh, I can’t help it.
“Hope!” The deep voice isn’t his. The strong hands cupping my cheeks are calloused, but gentle. He smells like the outdoors. Like Irish Spring and wood smoke. The soft light from the fire highlights the deep lines around Wyatt’s lips. “Come back to me, darlin’. You’re safe.”
The taste of blood makes me gag, and I cower away from him, still trapped in my memories. “I’ll be good. I promise.” Sobbing garbles my pleas, and all I want is to get out. Somewhere he can never find me.
“Murphy! Protect.”
The words cut through the haze clouding my thoughts, and then a solid, warm weight presses against me. The cold nose to my jaw shocks me enough to take the edge off my panic, and I wrap my good arm around the dog, even though I’m still not sure where I am. “Stop. Please…” I whisper, and Murphy makes a reassuring sound.
The mattress dips, and I cry out. I can’t move. Can’t let him see everything. How scared I am. How I can’t take another beating. How I’m so broken, there’s nothing of Hope left.
Wyatt
Fucking hell. Hope’s shaking, holding onto Murphy like he’s her lifeline. And it’s my fault.
The nightmare was nothing out of the ordinary. Pinned down in the middle of a blast zone, knowing CENTCOM was gonna blow the whole place in under five minutes, and our radio in pieces. We got out, but just barely.
“Hope? Do you know where you are?” She’s wrapped around Murphy, rocking back and forth with the occasional whimper.
“Y-yes.”
I don’t believe her. Not with her eyes screwed shut and her shoulders hiked up around her ears. “Not good enough, darlin’. Be more specific.”
Hope blinks up at me, then relaxes her death grip on Murphy. “Your cabin. I’m sorry, Wyatt. I—”
“Don’t apologize.” The words sound too much like an order. Too harsh, too rough, and I swear under my breath. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. I’m not used to having anyone around.”
Peering at me like she still expects me to yell at her, she asks, “Does that happen every night?”
I reach over and stroke a hand down Murphy’s back. “The nightmares? Most nights. But Murphy knows how to handle it. He keeps me from waking up like I did…with you. It’s been months since I had that strong a reaction.”
“Why tonight?” She’s more curious than scared now, thank God. The guilt still threatens to pull me under, but I can fight it as long as Hope’s okay.
“Got too far into it. Murph was a little preoccupied.” I try for a smile, hoping she doesn’t take my words for anything other than fact. “He was sleeping in here with you.” Leaning closer to the dog, I touch my forehead to his. “Good boy.” He swipes his tongue over my cheek once, then wriggles until he’s next to Hope again. “I’ll head back to the couch. Try to get some rest.”
As I push to my feet, she reaches for my hand. “Don’t go.”
“What?” She can’t mean that. I scared the poor woman so badly, she was begging me to stop. Or begging him to stop. And now she wants me to stay?
“For three years, I barely spoke to anyone. There was this one woman…one of Simon’s housekeepers.” She sniffs and swipes at her cheek. “Bettina. She was the only person who ever risked helping me after one of his…punishments. But only if Simon was away. If no one could see us. She helped me escape, and I’m sure he killed her for it.” Hope’s words dissolve into sobs, and I risk edging closer.
