Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) (4 page)

“No.  It
doesn’t.  I won’t be forcing you to do anything.  You’ll do it all
yourself and convince yourself it’s worth it, because I mean more to you than a
quick and easy fuck.”

“Damn you,” I hiss
at him.

“You damned us
both.”

“I didn’t mean
to!”

“Doesn’t matter
what you did, or didn’t mean to do.  It happened and you have to deal with
the consequences.”

I grind my jaw
down so hard my teeth ache but I spit out, “I won’t be your personal
slave.  Just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever
you want, blindly.”

“Did I ask for
that?  A mindless slave?  Someone to clean the bathroom with a
toothbrush and make me coffee, whenever I want it?  You’re misinterpreting
what I say.  But if you didn’t bother to reveal yourself to me all those
years ago, why should you assume that you’ve learned a lot of my true
nature.  You could have asked and I’d have answered.  I’d have told
you the truth, but for too long, I was that easy screw and you didn’t want to
know.  I don’t know what’s changed, but it’s to my advantage.”

“What do you
mean?”

His words, the
delicacy of his voice, the gentle tone, they all make a frightening
combination.  I wouldn’t say I’m an easy woman to scare, but he’s putting
me on an edge I don’t know how to back away from.

“I’d have changed
for you, Marina.  Given it up.  You’ve opened a can of worms and you
don’t even realize it.  But you’ll find out.  Soon.  When we
touch down.  It’ll start then.  No more
you
in charge. 

“I’ve let you hold
the reins and look where that’s got us.  Me in hospital and you
nurse-maiding me, because I couldn’t care for myself.  For the first time
in my life, in
any
relationship, I didn’t take control and this has
taught me a lesson.  I should have done this a long time ago, but I wanted
to change. 

“For you, I’d have
done without.  But you need a firm hand before you get somebody killed and
I’m the one to give it to you.”

As I landed the
plane and set about disembarking, Nate’s words revolved around my brain. 
I was thinking some kind of weird-ass—maybe corporal?— punishment to keep me in
line.

I don’t come from
a domestic abuse background, but I know Mona did.  There’s no way in hell,
not even to keep Nate, will I let myself be bullied into doing whatever he
wants simply because he deigns to say it!

Mona is pretty
levelheaded about her childhood.  She says things, little snippets about
her past that to her seem normal, but they have Eddie and me shooting a look at
each other.  Wondering if we should say something or if we should just
leave the subject alone.  The last thing we want is to freak her out, even
though both of us truly feel for her and the experiences she has endured that
no one, not just a kid, should have to see.  

One time, we were
lounging around in a coffee shop after a shopping spree on a Saturday, just
chatting and chilling together.  Eddie had been about to drift over to the
counter to place another order and she’d asked if Mona had wanted to try out
some of the new make-up she’d bought that day. 

The pair of us are
always trying to make Mona take a real look at herself.  She’s the sort of
woman who is pretty without make-up but could be a stunner if she wanted to put
a little effort into her looks. 

Ordinarily, I’d
have left her alone.  Let her be whatever she wanted to be.  However,
Mona’s self-confidence and self-esteem seem to ride on her looks and the
comparisons she makes between her, Eddie, and me.

Negative
ones. 

If we can try to
improve Mona’s impression of her own self-image, then we do it.

At the suggestion,
Mona’s eyes had turned glassy as she looked inward.  “My father always
said red lip paint was for whores,” she’d muttered.  “Made by the devil
for sluts, he used to say.  Mother tried to wear pink lipstick once. 
He held her over the sink and rubbed her mouth with soap until it had washed
away and then made her eat the lipstick.”

Eddie had stood
there, frozen solid and I’d felt as though I’d been punched in the face. 
To have seen that?  To have played silent witness to her mother’s
abuse?  Christ, it was no wonder make-up was a no-go in Mona’s world!

She’d reached for
the bag Eddie had been proffering, obviously willing to test out some of the
make-up, regardless of the memory that had just popped into her head. 

Before she could,
I’d grabbed it and said, “You don’t need to paint your lips, honey.  Just
add a bit of bronzer to your cheeks.” 

Swiftly, I’d
changed the subject, but those little glimpses into Mona’s past had always
horrified me.  So, yeah, having soap shoved down my throat to wash away
paint created by the devil isn’t my idea of fun.

Until we landed,
not a word was spoken in the cockpit.  I think Nate drifted to sleep and
his words, the true meaning behind them, had swirled around my brain as I tried
to make sense out of them.

It hadn’t
worked.  Now, stood beside the plane, my feet on Montana soil, I’m as lost
as I was forty minutes ago.

Someone from the
commune appears out of the darkness, zooming up to the plane on a golf
cart.  The mini four-wheeler is more SUV than wimpy cart.  It’s a
pimped-up, patented ride that has been very lucrative for Blue Ridge.

White lights glare
at us from the distance.  The small dots drowning in the sea of black have
both of us turning our heads away.  It’s unfortunate that we turn to face
each other and that those piercing bulbs show every emotion on both of our faces.

Nate is in
pain.  I can see it in the lines of tension at his eyes and mouth. 
He’s suffering, and that it’s because of me, has me feeling so guilty nausea
begins to bubble in my belly.  But his eyes, they do more damage to my
stomach lining than anything.  They’re filled with anger, rage and the
most painful part?  Hurt.  There’s no hatred there.  Nothing
that screams, ‘You fucking bitch.  Look what the fuck you’ve done to
me!’  Just pain, hurt, and sorrow.

And
I
did
that.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe I do need to
be punished.  The law isn’t going to do it thanks to my lies, and after
years of covering for myself, nobody is going to be aware of Papillon outside
of the old staff and clients.  No.  I’m a loose cannon.  And
while technically, I’m in the middle of nowhere, I can still do damage.

I recognize this
trait in myself.  I hate it.  Loathe it, but there’s no point wasting
time despising something that’s as intrinsic to me and my character as the
color of my eyes.  I just have to be proactive.  And if what Nate
wants to do to me, whatever it may be, will do away with that sorrow, then how
can I say no?  After what I’ve done to him, after all my lies and secrets,
how can I
not
give him this?  My acquiescence.

Maybe he sees
that.  Maybe, as he looks deep into my own eyes, he can sense my
contrition, because his face softens.  His mouth relaxes slightly, the
lips flattening out from the earlier pinch and his gaze is almost reminiscent
of the way he once looked at me.  Christ, a month seems like a lifetime. 
After hours, days, weeks of being avoided; of feeling like I’m America’s number
one enemy, or at least in the case of
one
American, to be gazed at by
the man I care for is like a gift from above.

I can feel tears
welling up in my eyes and while I feel pathetic, like a real dumbass, it’s a
testament to how low this man has brought me.  To my knees?  Perhaps.

What wouldn’t I do
to keep him?

The very fact I’m
here and not running away from him, facing him after all I’ve done to damage
him, speaks louder than a screech.  I’m not about to be mindlessly beaten
by way of punishment, but I was a fool even contemplating that, of even
comparing Nate to Mona’s father.  Nate isn’t cruel.  He’s a good man,
I know that and I have to have faith in him.  I don’t know what his
intentions are, but whatever they may be, I’ll endure it.  For him. 
Because deep down, I trust him.

Yuck.  I
sound like a real pansy.  Why don’t I just let him mop the floor with
me?  Inwardly snorting at the idea, I realize I’m not that far gone. 
I’ll see how it goes and monitor the situation.  But Nate will have to
totally disrespect me before I give up on us.

As the cart
squeals to a halt in front of us, the engine’s din finally dying down, the
driver climbs off the mini-SUV-golf cart and yawns around a greeting.  He
must be a new addition, because I don’t recognize him but Nate does and he
smacks him on the arm with his good hand.  “Wasn’t sure if you’d still be
here by the time I got back, Jason.”

Jason ̶
whoever the hell he is ̶ shakes his head.  “Couldn’t just leave
without saying bye to you.  Sorry to hear about the mugging.  That’s
some kind of freaky shit going down, but what do you expect going to the big
cities?”  At Nate’s snort, Jason grins again and turns to me.  “You
must be Marina.  Heard a lot about you.”

I can’t help
it.  Something inside me always freezes when I meet somebody new. 
Mona says I’m the Ice Queen incarnate, whenever I’m introduced to someone.
 That’s why it’s weird they think I always hook up with guys.  Mona
looks upon me as the Oracle of Manhattan.  Where sex and men are
concerned, at any rate. 

“I haven’t heard a
lot about you.”

Jason sucks in a
breath, then hisses it out.  Nate’s chuckle is loud beside me and I almost
jump from that alone.  It’s been a month since Nate has found anything
amusing.  Even in the hospital, he didn’t laugh at his favorite sitcoms!

“Play nice,
Marina.  This is an old friend.”

I turn toward
Nate, knowing I can, as it’s his good side.  I’m shocked, but happy, when
he raises his arm and hooks it around my shoulder.  “You’ve never
mentioned him to me.”

“I’m hurt,
Nate.  Real hurt.”  The twang of Texas is redolent in Jason’s
voice.  The thick brogue would be hard to understand if Lizzie, one of the
women on my staff, hadn’t been from the Lone Star State.

“You’re making us
sound like lovers, Jase.  You’re giving my girl the wrong impression.”

Jase flips him the
bird, then mutters, “Sorry, ma’am.”

Christ, he can
show him as many fingers as he wants if Nate considers me
his
girl. 
God, I’m out of my depth here.

“There are those
nice Southern manners your momma taught you.” 

Jase’s face is
half in the shadows and half out, but I can still see his grimace.  “Hell,
don’t remind me.  Come on, less of the chat; let’s get back to the
ranch.  Some of us left our nice, warm beds to be kind to their no-good,
ungrateful friends.” 

Before either of
us can say a word, Jase hauls my luggage and Nate’s on to his shoulders and
trawls it back to the cart.  Within seconds, the engine is rumbling
through the night and Nate is helping me on to the back of the cart.
 That’s the way it seems to Nate, at least.  As it is, I steer him,
giving him my support as he settles himself upon the hard cushion of the souped
up golf cart.

The instant our
butts hit the seat, Jase takes off.  With it, the silk scarf around my
throat whips away to only God knows where and I have to cling to the rail that
fences us on to the backseat to keep myself from flying off too.  Nate’s
arm suddenly tunnels around my waist and he clings to me.  I can’t mistake
it for cuddling, not with his threat of earlier still making its way around my
synapses!  Especially considering the force of his grip.

I lean forward and
slam my hand against Jase’s back.  “You jackass!”  I shout over the
motor and with another whack, the idiot comes to a halt.  With the engine
revving noisily, I screech, “He’s only just made it out of hospital!  You
can’t tear over the countryside as though he’s fit.  He’s still sore,
moron!”

At my first words,
Jase had spun around to face us.  Not that we can see much in the pitch
black.  Although the dim light from the moon provides some
illumination.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I forgot.”

“How the hell can
you forget?  You were just ribbing him over his injury a few minutes
ago.”  I turn to Nate and murmur, “It’s okay, baby.  I’ll get us
there in one piece.”  Detaching his hand from around my waist, I hide a
grimace at the bruises that will be there in the morning and climb out of the
cart.  Standing beside the driver’s seat, I grit out, “Get the hell out of
my way.  I’ll drive us back to the ranch.”

He must have
realized I wasn’t in the mood to be messed with, because he slid across the
seat to the passenger side without even a murmur. 

“Nate will need to
lean on you.”  Again, he complies and climbs over into the back. 
Nate’s grunt has my face contorting with rage.  “Be careful with
him.  For fuck’s sake, the man’s been blasted by a bullet.  He’s not
some goddamn bull in need of whipping!”

As I start the
ignition, I can hear a faint murmur, a slight chuckle but I set off, ignoring
the pair of them.  If I’m mothering Nate, well, who the hell can blame me?

I go at a decent
pace, fast enough to get us home in one piece like I promised, but slow enough
that every slight hill and bump doesn’t have Nate’s insides jiggling about like
Jell-O on a plate.

Driving towards
the lights in the distance, the faint twinkling of lamps from the homestead, I
aim north and wish the moon was brighter.  I can see shadowy cubes,
buildings that hadn’t been here on my last visit.  My memories of
wide-open spaces with few structures taller than one story have gone by the
by.  I don’t begrudge not being informed about these buildings being
constructed, I just mourn their existence.  It’s my own fault.  I
should have been here to make sure nothing happened to the land that didn’t gel
with my own plans.

That will all
change now.  I wouldn’t say Uncle Sam was a zealous leader, but I can’t
help but wonder if in the years he’s been guardian, he’s come to like the
position of power.  I hope I won’t have to wrestle the mantel of leader
from him.  It will be hard enough getting the members of the commune back
on my side.  They’ll judge me as an outsider for a long time.  Even
though I’ve lived here longer than I’ve been away.  It’s like that at Blue
Ridge.  Damned if you do.

As it is, my first
moments in Montana haven’t been how I’d have imagined.  But for all that,
it feels good to be home.  My stomach has settled.  Sound
weird?  Well, it feels weird.  I didn’t realize how much tension was
wriggling through me, like worms forcing their way through dirt.  My
sinuses feel as though they’ve been blasted; no more unclean air.  Here,
it’s one-hundred percent pure.  Delicious.  A perfume of its
own.  In the distance, to mar the cleanliness, I can scent cattle and all
the filth that comes with having a herd the size we do, but it’s a smell from
my youth and one that doesn’t bother me.

In the background,
I can hear the two men shouting at each other over the motor.  They might
as well be whispering for all I can hear.  The engine must be keeping
everyone awake.  Another sin to rest at my door.  Not only have we
landed here, we’ve spent an age torturing the commune with the sounds of a
whistling, screeching, rumbling motor.  And people here take this time of
the day seriously.  You’ve the folk who sleep religiously from daybreak to
dawn.  They’ll be pissed at my disturbing their nightly rest.  And
then, there are those who work through the night and whose concentration I’ll
be breaking.  But it can’t be helped.  I won’t let Nate suffer
anymore.  Unlike his friend, that is!