I hate vans. But it wasn’t black; it was a cheerful pale yellow with hand-painted dogs decorating the sides. Really, no self-respecting kidnapper would drive a vehicle like that. Right?
The woman driver jumped out and rather than approaching, she opened the back. Unable to master her fear, Kim retreated until she stood in the entrance, ready to slam the door shut.
The woman called something, and a dog jumped out. Brown with a darker muzzle, pointed ears upright. A big dog. A German shepherd?
Curiosity greater than nerves, Kim waited.
The short gray-haired woman walked up the sidewalk, carrying a thick envelope. “Well, you make it easy. Would you be Miss Kimberly Moore?”
Fears sliding away, Kim smiled. “I am.” Unable to resist, she knelt and held her hand out to the dog. “Aren’t you a pretty boy? Aren’t you sweet?”
With a low whine, he waited until the woman said, “It’s okay, Ari. This is your person.”
The dog gave a bark and lunged forward, tail wagging, taking all of Kim’s petting and responding with nuzzles and quick swipes of his tongue.
The older woman sighed. “He just won’t learn the no-licking rule.” She held out the envelope. “Let’s take a few minutes to go through this before I leave. Of course, you can always call if you have questions.”
Kim frowned. “Questions?” Was this some new religious technique? Use a dog to get the sinners to let you in the door? “About what?”
“About Ari—it’s short for Ariel, by the way, after the archangel.” She smiled at the dog’s whine. “I think your friend was correct. You two seem quite suited for each other.”
Friend. Suited. “I’m not following this. Are you saying you’re leaving the dog—Ari— here?”
“Well, yes.” The woman’s brows drew together. “He didn’t call you?”
“Who?”
“Oh my.” With a sound of exasperation, the woman held out her hand. “I’m Maggie Jenkins, and I train guard dogs for women. Only for women. A man named Raoul Sandoval called earlier and kept me on the phone for a good hour, making me describe every dog available. And then he bought Ari for you and asked me to deliver him today. He said you, especially, needed one trained to be an escort, a dog to either accompany you into stores or wait outside.”
“An escort?” Kim stared at Ari, seeing the large fangs, the strong body, the sheer threat of him. “He’ll go with me—everywhere? And wait outside if he can’t come in?”
“Absolutely. That’s his job.”
“But—for how long do I have him?” God, if she could only keep him a month, long enough to get past her fears.
“Child, the dog is yours. Mr. Sandoval didn’t hire him. He bought Ari outright, which is good.” Maggie smiled. “Ari isn’t happy being hired out. He wants his own person. In fact, I think you’ve bonded, and he’d already be unhappy to leave you.”
Kim realized the dog was completely in her arms, leaning against her until his top half sprawled over her legs. She gave a laugh, felt him licking the tears from her cheeks, and buried her face in the thick fur.
Three hundred miles away, and Master R still protected her. How could she not love him?
* * * *
Her mother’s kitchen hadn’t changed, Kim thought as she filled the dishwasher from the stacked plates on the counter. Such a cheerful room with white cupboards and ruffled curtains, dark blue countertops, and cows frolicking on the fridge and canisters. Grinning cows. That’s just wrong.
“So, this person—man—you were living with…” Kim’s mother plunged a pot into the dishwater.
“Raoul.” Saying his name still sent a shiver up her spine. Ari, who’d stationed himself nearby in case of appetizing accidents, whined slightly.
“Yes, that one. He seemed very nice.”
Startled, Kim glanced over. “Wait—you met him? When?”
“He came into the waiting room a little before you did. Said he wanted to meet me.”
“How did he get there? He wasn’t supposed to get out of bed.” Kim stared at a picture on the wall, her as a child, arm in a cast, face tight as she tried not to cry from the pain. The last time she saw Master R, he’d worn the same strained expression. He’d taken her hand in his, kissed her fingers, and now she realized the IV needle had been missing from the back of his hand.
“That idiot.” He’d walked down the hall to meet her mom. “God, no wonder he looked like he hurt.” She wanted to hit him for being so stupid. So damned macho.
“He wanted to make sure I’d take care of you. Asked me many questions.” He’d met her mom. “Really?”
Her mother laughed. “Yes. He was very worried about you.”
Kim smiled at her mother, who looked so much younger these days. They’d celebrated Kim’s return at a day spa, Kim with a manicure and pedicure, and her mother had her hair restored to a light brown. With highlights, no less. Who is this woman, and what have you done with my mom?
But she knew. Before the kidnapping, her mother had met a man. During the time Kim had been missing, he’d apparently been a rock of comfort. “Kind of like how Greg worries about you?”
Her mother flushed and glanced toward the living room where Greg and one of his younger colleagues were cheering a touchdown. “He does, doesn’t he? Kim, I’m so happy to have found him. To know that all men aren’t like your father. To be respected.”
“How can you tell? You’re still cooking. Cleaning. Working.” Kim frowned. “In fact, we’re in here washing dishes while they watch television. I’m not sure there’s any difference.”
“It’s…even now. Balanced. Inside the house is my area. Outside is his. Remember how he mowed the lawn and trimmed the bushes when you came, so we could girl-talk?”
“True.” Mom and Greg both worked and weren’t living together yet, although that was undoubtedly coming. “I’ve never seen the yard looking so nice.” Or the house in such repair. Nothing squeaked. No paint was scraped. Greg had laughed when she complimented him and said he enjoyed working outside after a day on the computer.
Her mother dried her hands on the towel. “But it’s not just the fairness, honey. It’s the way he…appreciates…anything I do. Who I am.” She sighed. “I wonder sometimes if I might have managed to leave your father if my sense of self-worth hadn’t been so ground down. When someone tells you that you’re worthless and stupid and ugly, eventually you start to believe it.”
“It’s another kind of abuse,” Kim said. How strange to see her mother as another female, subject to all the problems women had. And to be proud of how she’d grown and moved on.
“Yes, it is. And I’m sorry, baby, you had to see it. I worry that it gave you a warped view of marriage. Of loving.”
It had. Her mother’d been a slave as much as any woman with a collar around her neck. How strange that a housewife could have fewer rights than a submissive. And Mom had been much, much less cherished. “Maybe a little. I’m still working it out.”
No need to make Mom feel guiltier though. She bit her lip, thinking to change the subject, and the one topic she didn’t want to talk about—and couldn’t forget—slipped out. “So what did you think of Raoul?”
“How could I not like a man who would take a knife for my daughter?” Mom sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Or one who sent you home although anyone with a brain in her head would see that it tore him up to let you go.”
It did? As Kim’s aching for Master R intensified, Ari rose, pushing his muzzle into her hands. She kissed the top of his furry head. “I can’t be with him though. He wants to make all the decisions, to have me serve him—wants a slave.”
“You wouldn’t work outside the home?”
Kim remembered what he’d said about his former slaves. “I don’t think that’s a problem. It’s what would happen the rest of the time.”
“Well.” Her mother shook her head. “That’s odd to think about, and yet how is that different from being a housewife? A marriage is… Each person serves the other, and from what I saw of your Raoul, he would care for you as much as you cared for him. So perhaps it comes down to who makes the decisions. Do you want him to do that?”
Kim opened her mouth, prepared to say, Of course not.
But her mother held up her hand. “If you really knew the answer, you wouldn’t seem so unhappy. You’re not forging ahead to deal with your choice, because you haven’t made one.”
“I haven’t? I thought I had.”
Her mother shook her head. “You look lost, baby.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how I feel.”
“Think about it until you’re sure, then let it go. Whichever way you choose, I’ll support you.”
* * * *
After letting her inner cynic and inner coward battle it out, Kim had phoned Raoul. She’d thank him for Ari and then…talk. But his secretary picked up the call. Master R was overseeing a project in Costa Rica.