Rock's Redemption(Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)(20)

       
           



       

Since Rock had come back into her life, she'd begun questioning the  whole lifestyle that had provided her some comfort in a chaotic world.  Is Rock in my life? He's close to me physically, but I'm not in his  life. I doubt I'll ever see him again. I told him to go away. He'd had  no idea how she wanted to wrap herself around his hard body, his strong  arms holding her close and making her feel safe and protected. But there  would be consequences if she did that, and she wasn't prepared to face  them. She couldn't.

"Are you hungry?" Frederick's voice broke in on her internal thoughts.  She'd forgotten he was there, and she hadn't even smelled his dinner …   until now.

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you shouldn't have been such a bad pet." There was a long pause  and she closed her eyes, trying to bring Rock's face back into her mind.  "Because I love you so much, I will allow you to eat, but you'll have  to do it from the bowl."

Redness crept up her neck and spread out over her cheeks and forehead. A  loud bang on her cage made her eyes fly open, and she found herself  staring into Frederick's face as he crouched low on his haunches beside  her. He was fucking mocking her. There was no way in hell she was going  to eat her dinner from a damn bowl while he watched. She'd rather deal  with the hunger pangs than submit to that.

"So what does my disobedient pet have to say?"

"Thank you for your kindness, Sir." A smirk covered his lips. "But I'd  rather not eat." The smirk turned into a thin line of displeasure.

"You think you're holding on to your dignity?"

"No, Sir. I'm just not hungry." Her gaze locked with his, a defiant sheen in it.

He stood up and kicked her cage. "Remember you belong to me, not to  yourself or anyone else. Only me." He stormed out of the room and a rush  of joy filled her. For one brief instant, Clotille Boucher had  resurfaced, pushing pet away. She smiled and closed her eyes again.

When he finally let her out of the cage three hours later, her joints  were so sore that she could barely walk on her wobbly legs. He told her  he didn't want her in his bed that night, so she slept on the pallet  he'd laid down on the floor at the foot of their bed. She was elated to  sleep alone, and derived some pleasure out of knowing his final  punishment had backfired. She washed up and stretched out on her pallet,  tugging the blanket under her chin.

As she drifted off to sleep, Frederick's gentle voice broke through her sleepiness. "I do love you, pet. Very much."

Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she pretended to be asleep. After  many minutes, she heard Frederick's even breathing, and her body relaxed  and allowed sleep to take her.

* * *

For the past two days, Rock had been watching the house waiting for a  weakness in Frederick's stringent routine. So far, the man rarely went  out and when he did, Clotille was with him. The way she moved, the way  her clothes hugged her curves, and the way she'd toss her long hair over  her shoulder was a natural aphrodisiac, causing Rock's jeans to  tighten.

While Rock had done the security gig at the house, he'd noticed all the  cameras, but also a weak link in approaching the house from the forest  of trees on the fifty acres of land. He'd intended to mention it to  Frederick Blair, but then he discovered Clotille and he made a mental  note that he may need to use the breach in security to his advantage.

As he stared through his long-distance binoculars, he spotted Frederick  leaving the house, briefcase in hand. The driver pulled up the black  limousine and he went into the backseat. The sleek limo pulled away and  drove out the iron gates. Fuck yeah! Game's on.

He approached the house by coming through the forest. Once he was close  enough, he took out a small device not much bigger than a cigarette  pack. He knew the cameras were wireless, having seen them enough during  his two stints at the mansion. He figured they were only set up so  Frederick could watch them later and see what Clotille did during the  day. Pushing the buttons on his frequency emitter, he jammed the  reception, thus making the cameras inoperable. There was no way  Frederick would have his security people in tune with them-they were for  his pleasure only.

He tried the French doors off the veranda, and to his surprise, they  were unlocked. Rock pushed them open and found himself in the family  room. For several minutes he stood frozen, his ears pricked for anything  that may signal danger. Nothing. He moved cautiously through the main  floor, checking all the rooms. There was no sign of Clotille.

As he crossed the foyer, the circular staircase beckoned him, and he  remembered the last time he'd been to the house he'd spotted Clotille  staring out at him from a window on the second floor. He slowly ascended  the stairs.                       
       
           



       

The second floor had a shitload of rooms, but she had been standing in  one on the right side of the house so he went in that direction, opening  doors and scanning each room for any signs of her.

He turned the knob to the door in the middle of the large hallway and it  swung open. Adrenaline pumped in his blood as he perused what was  definitely the master bedroom. He noticed a pallet at the foot of the  bed, sheets and a blanket neatly folded on top of it.

He entered and went through the room, trying to figure out where she  could be. Maybe the sonofabitch locked her in his goddamned playroom in  the basement. He opened a couple doors only to reveal large walk-in  closets bigger than his room at the clubhouse. To the right of the  closets, there was another door. He slowly opened it and his eyes washed  over Clotille as she sat stiffly on a chair, her gaze overly bright,  her face ashen. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail and the tendons  stood out on her neck, a small pulse visible.

"Chérie, you don't need to be afraid," he said in a soothing voice as he approached her.

"W-what are you doing here?" she stammered, her face strained.

"I need to talk with you."

Looking downward, she shook her head. "No. The cameras. He'll see you. This is bad, Roche, very bad."

"Don't worry about that. I fixed it. It'll just show as a malfunction. How much time do we have before he comes back?"

"He said he'd be back at five o'clock. He's always prompt."

Rock glanced at the digital clock on a side table near the chair. "Good,  we have several hours." He reached out and stroked her cheek gently,  her skin so soft. "Are you his wife?"

Her head jerked up. "No."

"I didn't think so. Are you with him because you love him, or is it for the money? I know he's helping your mother."

Crimson painted her cheeks. "I knew you did. At first I thought I could  love him the way I loved …  well, the way a woman should love a man. I  tried, but I couldn't. He's been good at taking care of some things I  messed up over the years. My mother adores him."

"She would."

She shrugged. "He makes a lot of things possible in my life for me and my …  family."

"If it's money you need, I can help you. You don't have to be with a man who humiliates you like he did at the dinner party."

She covered her face with her hands and sank down on the chair. "I hate  that you saw that. You don't understand. It's part of the lifestyle, and  it was pleasing to Frederick."

"I understand that but I know this isn't your lifestyle, even though you've tried to make it that way."

She stared at him, her eyes flashing. "How do you know what I like? You  and I haven't seen each other since we were fools in high school who  thought the world was ours. You don't know a damn thing about me."

He grinned. "I thought you were submissive."

"Fuck you!" She leaned back, placing her hand over her mouth as her body shook. Then a peel of laughter escaped from her lips.

He joined in, laughing loudly. "It felt good, non? Chérie, you're about  as submissive as the women at the club. This life isn't for you. I've  come to take you away."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she gulped huge breaths of air.  After she calmed down, she took a tissue and blew her nose. "If I were  the only one involved in all this, I'd go with you in a heartbeat, but  it's not so simple."

"You want to stay with him?"

"It's not a matter of want. Things are complicated."

"I'm not going to beg you to come. I'm helping you out as a friend and  because we have a history together, but if you tell me you don't want to  go with me, I'll wish you a good life and walk out of it. It's your  choice."

In a monotone voice, she said, "I'll stay with Frederick. Merci, Roche …  for everything."

Rock exhaled slowly, a bitter smile whispering on his lips as he shook  his head. "Okay, Clotille. Have a good life." He whirled around and  marched out of the room, a heaviness descending on him. All he wanted to  do was jump on his Harley and ride it fast and hard all the way back to  Pinewood Springs. You tried to help but she wants this bullshit. Your  hands are now clean of it.