Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (26 page)

“Has she visited you?” Sam was curious about that.

“Once, when I was sick with the flu my senior year of high
school, I thought I was going to die. Phalen was away. Ethan had a hockey
game.”

“He’s a diehard hockey fan.”

“He played in high school but a puck to the knee ended his
hopes of becoming the next Bruin.”

“Ouch, poor Ethan,” she said, cringing on her partner’s
behalf. “Let’s get back to your mom.”

“All I really remember was that I was feverish and I
imagined she was placing cool clothes on my forehead as she’d have done when I
was a little kid. Ethan came home and she left, yet I still smelled her. She
always smelled of lavender.”

“It’s amazing what goes on up there in heaven. I really need
to make a concerted effort to improve my relationship with my mom.”

“You will. I’ll help.”

“I hurt my mom when I ran away and stayed away for so long.
However there were times when she hurt me too, namely when she refused to tell
me who my father was.”

“Why do you think she hasn’t told you?”

“Whenever I asked about him she’d become very sad, almost
frightened, as if something terrible would happen if she said his name. He
must’ve hurt her terribly. When I came home from New York, I left it alone.
Maybe it’s time to ask again.”

“Give her time. Talk to her and let her know that you’re
there for her no matter what she says. She’ll open up.”

“I hope so. Since meeting Luke and talking to you at length,
I have reason to hope for a family of my own.”

Taran gripped the steering wheel with his left hand, taking
Sam’s hand with his right and giving it a tender squeeze.

“I’d like that too. Told you, doll, Luke’s meant to be our
son. We’ll start with fostering and see what’s in store from there. Okay?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Once we put our names in,
social services will do background checks and home studies. Someone might
object to my past or the fact that I’m a cop and took a life in the line of
duty.”

“Don’t worry about background checks or home studies. Our
home will be welcoming and loving, that’s what they’ll see.”

“Thank you, Taran. Maybe we can adopt a baby eventually?
That is if you’re in this for the long haul.”

Taran continued to hold her hand. His touch was exactly what
she needed. She just hoped she wasn’t rushing things or jumping to conclusions
when it came to their future together.

“Are you happy with me, Samantha?”

“I’ve never known this kind of happiness. I realize we’re
new together as a couple, yet it seems as though I’ve known you all my life.”

“Morgan would say we’re soul mates.”

“Yeah, I’m good with the whole soul mate thing.”

“Then don’t worry about how long we’ll be together. I’m in
this thing with you for as long as you’ll have me, preferably forever. How’s
that sound?”

“Forever sounds perfect. Besides, I get to tie up Taran
Maddox and spank his ass soon. That’s something no other woman will get to do.”

“Nope, only you will have that right.” Taran brought her
hand across the seats and kissed her fingers, lowering her hand to his lap.

They continued heading toward her apartment, having to stop
at red lights along the way. A couple minutes later, he turned the truck into
her apartment complex and parked next to her cruiser.

Taran assisted her out of her side of the truck, stopping to
open the back door and grab his overnight case from where he’d stowed it on the
seat. Closing the door with his hip, he took her hand and escorted her through
the front entrance of the apartment building.

Two flights of stairs later, they came out on her floor and
Sam led him to her door. It took a second to fetch her keys from her coat
pocket. Taran confiscated the keys, opening the door to guide her inside.

Sam liked her apartment. It had two bedrooms, a quaint
kitchen, an open living room and dinette and a fairly large bathroom with two
entrances. She had nice furniture, a beige sofa with a pullout bed, matching
lounge chair, oak end tables and a coffee table.

An entertainment system perched along the back wall of the
living room had a standard-sized HDTV, iPod docking station and DVD player. The
system was exactly the right size for the room.

She’d converted the small second bedroom into a home office
with her desk and extensive computer setup, including her refurbished laptops
and an iPad. Her desktop computer was primarily Linux based. The laptops were
PCs or Macs. She loved the new iPad mini and hoped to add one to her
electronics collection.

Removing her leather coat and hanging it on a coatrack she
kept by the door, she looked around at the old movie posters she’d collected
over the years. Everything from
Casablanca
,
Rocky Horror Picture Show
,
Willow
,
The Princess Bride
, the original Star Wars trilogy and
the Lord of the Rings movies were hanging on the walls.

Taran set his bag down by the sofa, shrugged out of his coat
and looked around.

“Someone’s a movie buff,” he noted, walking around.

“You collect DVDs. I collect movie posters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when it comes to birthday presents.
I’ve a friend who manages a movie theater. Maybe he can hook me up with some
posters.”

“You know what I love? Drive-in theaters. I’ve only been a
couple of times but it was fun. Nowadays, there are so few left.”

“Who’d you go with?”

“Some girlfriends of mine from school,” she answered,
suddenly feeling sad for that innocent time in her life. “The last time was
right before I vacationed with my mom on the Cape, before I met Mark.”

Taran turned around, coming up to her. “Samantha, don’t be
sad. What happened to you was horrible. I wish I had the power to take back
those years and keep you from meeting Mark Cormack.”

“I thought I’d made so much progress. Mark’s call this
morning brought it all back.”

“I’m here now. I’m going to make sure he never hurts you
again.” Gently, he took her into his arms.

“Just feeling a little off,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Understandable. It’s been a long day. Are you hungry? Want
me to order some dinner?”

Sam groaned. She’d eaten too much at the fondue restaurant.

“I’m too full to consider eating anything right now. Can I
just hold you for a while?”

“How about we hold each other?” Taran shifted, moving to
lift her up into his arms, carrying her to the sofa.

As they’d done many times over the weekend, they reclined
together, with Taran spooned up against her back. His arm settled around her
waist, his other pillowing her head. Feeling safe again, Sam sighed and closed
her eyes.

Taran knew the moment Samantha fell asleep. She’d started to
snore quietly. The tension in her body that’d been there throughout the day
eased.

After he’d dispatched Cormack that morning, he’d wanted to
hunt the other man down and kick his sorry ass for daring to think he could get
away with hurting the woman Taran loved. But once Morgan touched Samantha’s
phone and said what she’d said, he wondered why Mark had been desperate enough
to call Samantha out of the blue.

Maybe he should encourage Samantha to talk to Mark. He would
be there for her, but doing so might give her some closure.

As they rested together, he felt her stiffen, becoming
agitated. The tension he’d hoped was gone returned in spades. Growling in her
sleep, she fought something he couldn’t see.

“No, don’t leave. Bring her back, please,” Samantha murmured
in her sleep.

“Samantha, wake up,” Taran urged softly, moving her around
to face him. She remained out of it, caught in a nightmare that he would do
anything to end.

“No! No! She can’t be gone. Please, tell me she’s all
right…”

Shooting straight up off the sofa, Sam went into fight mode.
Her eyes were open, her mouth parting in a silent scream that sent chills down
Taran’s spine. Her palms were clenched into fists.

“Samantha! Wake up!” Taran stood, catching her by the elbows
to keep her from hurting herself if she should try to bolt or tripped over the
coffee table. “Hear me, doll, wake up.”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly before her knees gave
out. Taran caught her up into his arms, going down to the floor with her and
drawing her onto his lap. For a long time she cried, her words mumbled into his
shoulder.

“Oh god, Taran, what did I do?” she asked softly, finally
turning her face to the side to speak louder.

“You didn’t do anything, love. You had a bad dream. You
didn’t do anything wrong.”

She growled, more at herself than at him. “I did. I gave up
on my own daughter. What kind of mother does that?”

“You didn’t give up on anyone.” Taran locked his arms around
her tighter. Rocking her gently, he felt his heart break all over again as she
dropped her head down and cried harder.

“You must think I’m a terrible person,” she claimed several
minutes later.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because it’s been so long and I’d been so ill and confused
the day I’d undergone a C-section and surgery in an attempt to save Sarah’s and
my lives. I’d been told she’d died and I became so angry at James for what he
did to me that I failed to ask the right questions.”

“Ah, Sam, try not to think like that.” Taran had no clue as
to what to say right then. His heart felt as broken as Samantha’s must have
been when she was told her baby died.

“Am I losing my mind?” she asked in a hushed voice. “I just
had a dream where I heard the baby’s heartbeat. I’d had a spinal and could hear
everything. Why would I block that out?”

“No, you’re not losing your mind, but it can play tricks on
us when we’re facing trauma or in the middle of a dream.”

“It was so long ago. James snapped for wrongly believing I
was trying to escape and ran me down, causing me to fall down a flight of
stairs. I’d had severe spotting and cramps and the baby stopped kicking. I’d
only wanted to get help.”

Samantha’s words stalled, her breathing was erratic.

“James pushed you?”

Samantha shivered, nodding. “Until that day, his primary
hold on me was threatening my mom. He went crazy, said he’d tell his family I’d
thrown myself down the stairs out of desperation if I told the authorities what
happened to me. At that point, I thought I was going to die.”

“Swear I’ll kill that bastard if I ever meet him.”

“What if my dream is real?” she asked, hiccupping a little.

“If it is, we’ll figure it out. Tell me what you remember
about the day you were taken to the hospital.”

“Mostly, I remember having severe contractions that came one
right after the other soon after I fell. I blacked out from the pain and woke
in the emergency room, with my doctor from the women’s clinic, Dr. Solomon,
attending me.”

Taran continued to hold Samantha, letting her process her
dream and the memories of that tragic day. “Take your time, Sam, there’s no
rush.”

“Dr. Solomon told me that there’d been a placental abruption
and a partial uterine tear, forcing him to do an emergency cesarean section
because my baby was in distress.”

Taran let Samantha talk, but he held her as close as
possible. He felt himself trembling, not bothering to check it or stop it. If
Samantha could endure all this at age seventeen, he could bear hearing it at
her pace.

“Apparently, my instincts to get to the doctor were right.
If I’d only acted faster, gotten out of that penthouse sooner, I’d have gotten
to the hospital sooner.”

“Sam, you risked your life trying to get help. Do you
remember what happened after Sarah was delivered?”

“I wish I could say I did,” she admitted as tears rolled
down her cheeks. “I was so confused and hurting and heavily medicated, as I’d
needed to be on absolute bed rest to control the bleeding from the tear. A week
later, I underwent a second surgery for a partial hysterectomy.”

“I’m so sorry, Samantha,” Taran said, knowing he’d say it as
many times as she needed to hear it, but very aware that her pain was raw
again, real. “Is there anything else you remember from that time?”

“Dr. Solomon’s face when he said I’d lost the baby. I’d told
him then and there about James, gave him my real name and everything, but he
patted my hand, told me I was understandably upset then ordered a nurse to give
me another sedative. I didn’t see him again after that.”

“You went into the hospital as a Jane Doe?” he asked, more
so to understand her predicament.

“James had forged documents claiming he was my legal
guardian. The papers made it seem as if I was his niece who’d been sent to New
York until the baby came. Taran, do you…do you think it’s possible that Sarah
didn’t die?”

“I don’t know, honey,” he said cautiously. “Anything’s
possible, for that to happen either the hospital or Dr. Solomon would’ve been
responsible.”

“I wonder,” she said, ruminating before continuing. “Dr.
Solomon ran a women’s clinic, but the few times I’d gone there, I’d seen
advertisements for a fertility clinic in Manhattan. I’d asked a nurse about it
and she said Dr. Solomon was the chief-of-staff there.”

“Would you like me to look into his past and see if there
were any lawsuits against him?” Taran offered.

Samantha smiled a little. “Yes, please. You’d think with all
my experience as a hacker, all it’d take for me to know for sure what happened
back then would be an intense background search. But if it turns out that I’m
following a false dream, my heart will break all over again.”

“In that case, consider having Phalen look into it for you.
It might help for you to remain on the sidelines because he’ll chase down leads
you might naturally shy away from.”

“That’s a good idea,” she replied. “The thing of it is, when
Mark called, I thought he’d said, ‘she’s my daughter too’, as in present tense.
Maybe this is all a trick of my imagination and Mark was being the coldhearted
bastard I’ve always believed him to be.”

“Mark was sick when he called.”

“He told me he had the flu.”

“Still think you should have peace of mind. Hire Phalen. I’m
here for you and will do everything within the power of the law to help you.”

Samantha lifted her head, looking up at him. Her eyes were
red-rimmed from crying. He wished he could make her smile again.

“I’m thankful for you, Taran Maddox. Without you, I wouldn’t
be able to face this alone. Plus we have Luke to consider.”

“We do.”

Taran reached out for her again, taking her back into his
arms. Every once in a while she stirred and he placed a kiss on the top of her
head. Sometime later, she shifted off his lap.

“Would you mind if I went to clean up? After all that
crying, I need to feel human again.”

“Do you need some help?”

Samantha was about to say no. She had a strong independent
streak and wasn’t used to having things done for her. Ultimately, she changed
her mind. He could see her think about it because she chewed on her lip.

“You know what? How good are you with a razor?”

“Good enough not to hurt you.”

“Want to help me shave?”

“Would you return the favor?”

Sam paused. “You want me to shave your face?”

“In the morning, sure,” he said.

She smiled, making his heart leap. “All right, let’s do it.”

He got up off the floor, assisted Samantha to her feet and
followed her to the bathroom. She hit the light switch on her way in. Six
connected lights over the vanity came on, as did the central light on the
ceiling.

Taking a quick look around, he saw the sink, vanity, toilet
and a narrow closet. There was only a frosted shower stall with a sliding door,
but it was large enough for two. Curtains on the small bathroom window were
pale-yellow and blue. Matching bath towels and hand towels were hung neatly on
towel racks.

Plush yellow bath rugs were strewn about the white-tiled
floor. The bathroom was nice, with two doors. Both were opened when they walked
in. Light from the bathroom reflected into the master bedroom, giving a glimpse
of beige wall-to-wall carpeting and the shadow of a queen-sized bed.

Taran didn’t concentrate on the bedroom, continuing to look
around the bathroom. He liked the wooden four-tier shelving unit that housed
washcloths, soaps, a supply of shampoo and hair products that would’ve made a
hair salon jealous, a hair dryer and spare toilet-paper rolls.

Taran went over to the shelf, grabbing two bottles tagged
with the shampoo and conditioner labels that looked to be handmade or designed.
He juggled the bottles, opening the shampoo, and sniffed. It smelled like
Samantha’s hair, namely honeysuckle.

“This shampoo smells good,” he said.

“It does. When I was in Dallas and Grace McKay’s wedding
last summer, she hooked me up with his sister who makes soaps and shampoos.
It’s extremely good for my hair, especially because of what I put it through to
get this color.”

“That’s nice. Can I wash your hair for you?”

Samantha smiled softly, lightening his heart. “Yes, I’d like
that very much.”

Taran walked over to place the shampoo and conditioner
bottles inside the shower stall. Turning on the water, he backed up, closed the
door and shed himself of his sweater before heading to Samantha and undressing
her.

Wanting to erase the sadness that still dulled her green
eyes, he slowly pulled the tee shirt over her head then slipped her bra off,
helping her kick off her boots. A few pieces of clothing later, she was naked.

“You’re a lovely woman, Samantha Riley. Prettiest I’ve seen
in my life,” he complimented.

“Thank you, Master Taran,” she said. As awesome as it was to
hear her call him Master, Taran knew it wasn’t the right time or place.

“No, love, we’re not in a scene. Right now you’re to relax
and let me take care of you.”

Samantha’s soft, sexy lips curled into a smile. “Then make
love to me, Taran.”

“That’s what I’m doing.” Quickly getting naked, Taran
nestled in close to her, forcing her to arch her head back so that he could
find the sweet spot on her neck.

Honing in on that spot he’d marked Friday night, he licked
and nipped, being careful not to hurt her, only to stimulate. Her cute moan was
the cue he needed to deliver bites and kisses up and down the column of her
throat, finally finding her lush mouth.

Kissing her, he put his arms around her and pulled her naked
body up against his and tightened his arms around her. Wanting her to know that
she meant everything to him, he took the time to kiss her the way she should be
kissed, slowly, deeply, passionately.

“I love kissing you,” she murmured when he backed off a
little.

“That’s good. We’ll be doing it a lot over the next thirty
or forty years.”

Samantha laughed out loud. “Forty years, huh, guess you
won’t mind when I’m old and flabby.”

Taran smiled at her. “We’ll get flabby together.”

“That hard body of yours will never get soft,” she said,
looking him up and down. “If your cock ever has that problem, we’ll have to get
you a cock ring or something to make sure you stay at full-mast.”

“No worries, looking at you gets me hard.” Backing her up
toward the shower, he reached around her to open the door, and assist her
inside, stepping in behind her.

Carefully closing the door and testing the water to be sure
it was at the right temperature, he maneuvered her under the spray. As soon as
her hair was soaked, he dumped a glob of shampoo into his palm and began
scrubbing her hair.

Taran wanted to do whatever he could to make Samantha happy.
It still felt as if a lead weight had crushed a part of him inside when he saw
her scramble off the sofa in an effort to fight for her child. He’d hated that
she cried, hated even more that she’d mourned the loss of her daughter alone
for way too many years.

Wanting to make up for that, he showered her with care,
slowly and carefully, shaving her, tending to her every need until only a trim
triangle of hair remained on her mons. When they were done and both were clean
and dry, he carried her to her bed, making love to her.

He took his time, devoting all his love to her. Samantha came
beautifully, her smile returning, her sighs relieving his sadness for her.

Afterward, he rolled over, taking her with him and letting
her use his shoulder as a pillow. Her breathing eased, her tension gone for the
time being. Turning his head to kiss her temple, he welcomed the way she
burrowed in closer.