Page 36 of My Cowboy Salvation
“I will. You too.” Then the line is dead.
Knowing that someone like Conner and his team of security experts are on this feels like I’ve eased half a ton of bricks from my shoulders. Not the full ton, as I’m still ever mindful this Beaufort guy could strike, and I’ve got to be careful, but enough to help me breathe a little easier.
One way or another, Simon Beaufort is about to see justice.
* * *
Dylan’s flushed,post-climax face looks up at me as I thrust one last time into her, the gold locket I gave her for her birthday nestled against her skin. I marvel for a moment at how fucking beautiful she is in the aftermath of tonight’s rigorous and extensive fucking. How the hell did I get so lucky?
Carefully, I pull out and take a minute to clean up before returning to the bed where I roll Dylan in my arms, our bodies already linked together as we bask in this hazy moment of bliss.
I hate to admit it, but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or what I expect when it comes to Dylan Harper, and I’ve done a remarkable job of not thinking about it. Any time the question has popped into my head these past couple of days, asking for answers, I’ve been pretty good at stomping them down and telling myself it will work itself out.
How it will work itself out, I don’t have a fucking clue. But I haven’t let that stop me from keeping Dylan close to me in my bed, ensuring she’s safe, protected, and sexually satisfied with our late night activities, at least until the sun comes up and she sneaks to her room so Parker isn’t any wiser.
Yeah, I’m a fucking asshole.
A few minutes pass as we lie here, content to just hold each other, hearing and feeling the other person breathe, the scent of our sex around us.
“This weekend has been so perfect, I almost don’t want it to end,” she whispers.
I can’t disagree with that sentiment. Spending yesterday with my son, bonding over burgers, then, once Dylan got home, the three of us spending the rest of the weekend playing board games, watching movies, making and eating a lot of food, and, best of all, having the ultimate reward of listening to Dylan play her cello for us.
Okay, so maybe the ultimate reward was what Dylan and I just spent the past hour engaging in, but that doesn’t diminish the rest of it.
Leaning over, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s been pretty great. It’s nice to see you so happy.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve felt this happy and safe, and I have you to thank.”
“No thanks necessary, Dylan. You deserve all the happiness in the world. You’ve certainly earned it.”
She grows quiet, lost in thought. “I don’t know. So many things have happened: losing my parents, my grandma, then getting mixed up with Simon. I started to believe it’s some karmic retribution, whether from something I’ve done or about to do…”
“Nothing karmic about it. You just were misfortunate to have lost your parents at a young age, only to get on the radar of some psychopath who was looking for someone vulnerable. But you have me now. I’m in your corner, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She sighs and swirls her finger in a pattern on my chest. “It’s embarrassing to admit. To you and myself that I let myself become anyone’s victim. I thought what I went through made me a stronger person, more knowing and cautious than others. But I didn’t see Simon for the predator he was, or recognize the subtle ways he slipped into my life until it was too late.”
“How did you two meet?” I ask, sensing she needs to get this off her chest.
“At a fundraiser to raise money for the conservatory. A few select students were invited to perform, then mingle afterward with the guests. Thanks to the Beaufort name and his family’s history of contributions, Simon was there. He was so sophisticated and handsome, and I was easily flattered when he showered me with attention, sending me flowers and gifts, taking me to dinner and shows, quick trips to Napa and even New York. And like I mentioned, three months after we started dating, I moved in.”
“I remember. After the water break.”
“That was the beginning of the end. Little by little, he exerted his control over me. Tracking my movements somehow so he knew where I was every minute of the day. If I was getting coffee with some other students, he’d show up. If I stayed too long after practice, he stopped to check in. He’d be perfectly polite to everyone, but once we got home, he’d make me pay. Then I received an invitation to go to Norway to perform in a limited concert, an invitation I couldn’t and didn’t want to refuse. I told him so, told him of the honor it was to be asked and how it would open doors for me.”
She drew quiet, and I run my hand up and down her arm. “But you didn’t go,” I say, knowing the answer already.
“Simon knew just the right amount of pressure to apply to my wrist to not cause any permanent damage, but enough that I was unable to play for three weeks, missing the concert. It was okay for me to perform. He loved to claim me as his girlfriend to anyone who asked. But only where and when it was beneficial to him. As you can imagine, those last couple of months we were together, I resented performing publicly. Having him sit in the crowd, watching me, feeling his sense of possessiveness over me and my music, made me physically ill.”
I didn’t think I could feel any more rage for this Simon Beaufort, a man who had hurt and terrorized this beautiful young woman for too long, but at hearing how his controlling behavior dimmed her pleasure in playing in any way sent my rage through the roof. I shook with the sickness of needing to punch something. Preferably him.
I took a moment to get in control, taking in some deep breaths until I was ready. “There’s a special place in hell for men like Beaufort,” I say, my voice gruff. “And I know it’s easy for me to say, but you can’t let him ruin the one thing that’s given you any pleasure in your life. You play too beautifully and with so much passion for others not to appreciate your talent. Foryouto enjoy your talent.”
“You’re right,” she says softly. “And I’m going to work on that. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll be back on stage again, and Simon will be just a distant memory.” I wish she sounded like she believed it.
Squeezing her shoulder, I tuck her against me. “You will, Dylan. I promise.”
One way or another, I will not let Simon Beaufort break this beautiful, talented, warm-hearted woman.
