Free Woman In Chains by Bridget Midway Page B

instant, Dak opened his eyes, finding Rebekah asleep and bound to his bed, and the constant pounding coming from the front door.
    Jesus H. He’d never had such a vivid dream like that in his life. Dak sprang from his chair, trying hard to hide his apparent erection. Rebekah had already accused him of physical abuse. He didn’t need her classifying him as some sort of sex-crazed pervert.
    Another forceful knock pounded on the door again.
    “Yeah, yeah! I’m coming.” Dak opened his door, assuming on the other side would be his savior, Gordon. “It’s about fucking ti—”
    Seeing their mutual friend Moira didn’t sit well with him. Gordon usually sent her when he couldn’t deliver bad news. Besides the fate of their dear mutual friend fighting his terminal condition, the worst news Dak could get right now involved the woman cuffed to his bed.
    His eyes widened. “No, no, no!”

 
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    “Whatever happened to ‘Hi, Moira. Welcome to my home’?” The petite woman stepped into Dak’s house.
    “You know exactly why I’m saying no. Where the hell is Gordon?” Dak closed the door behind her. Although way out in the country, he knew no one would be driving by his home.
    “How do you know Gordon sent me and that I’m not here just to check up on you? We are friends.” She tucked her short, black hair behind her ears, then crossed her arms over her chest. She looked like a pint-sized executive in her gray skirt and crisp button-down white shirt.
    Dak didn’t have to verbally respond. He cocked his head as he stared at her.
    “You’re right.” Moira shrugged. “I just wanted to know how you knew.”
    “Unbelievable. What’s his excuse this time?”
    “Gordon had to go out of town for personal reasons. He didn’t tell me what they were, so don’t ask.” She sat her purse on a small table by the front door.
    Dak stormed past her. “Coffee or tea?”
    “Tea would be great.”
    He filled a kettle and placed it on the stove. “I guess he’s told you what’s going on, right?”
    “You did another save.”
    “I was forced into doing the save.”
    “He held a gun to your head?”
    “Fine. Coerced, Miss Semantics. Now I’m stuck with her.” He arranged two mugs on the counter. “You’re a shrink.”
    “Wow, that label didn’t hurt.” Moira took a seat at the table.
    “Sorry. Psychiatrist. Can you check her out?”
    “I could. But it looks like you could use some help yourself.” She pointed to Dak’s head.
    Touching it, he’d almost forgotten about the bandage he’d had to fashion after Rebekah had knocked him over the head with his lamp.
    “That was courtesy of our frightened guest.”
    “What did you do to her?”
    Dak’s jaw unhinged. “Why would you automatically assume that I did something? All I did was offer to bathe her and feed her dinner. She is doing this annoying thing of calling herself This Slave instead of her real name.”
    “Oh, no. Not one of those.”
    Dak nodded. “I’ve renamed her Rebekah. She almost got tangled up with Doc last night. But she told him that her name was Rebekah, so she might be getting used to it. If not, I’ll make sure she gets used to it.”
    Moira rutted her eyebrows at his statement. “What do you mean by that?”
    The kettle whistled and Dak removed it from the blue flame. When he’d left the real Rebekah, not the woman who had appeared in his dream, she still slept. He would keep her that way for as long as he could.
    “I mean that if she doesn’t do things my way, I’ll have to discipline her like I did last night.”
    Moira rose from the table. “What?”
    Dak didn’t fear much. He’d been in combat during Desert Storm. He’d even done some bounty hunting when he got out of the military. The glare Moira shot him forced him to avert his gaze.
    After swallowing hard, Dak replied, “I told her not to call herself This Slave in front of me again. She did. So I spanked her.”
    When Dak gained enough