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Even in his drugged state, or maybe because of it, Cal realized that he was thinking differently than he had been the early morning that he had scraped together all the cash he had, and all that he could filch from his parents and vacated home due to his father finding one of the skirts he’d been experimenting with. He had a feeling that sometime in the missing time, and he was sure there was quite a bit of missing time between being frogmarched through the door to meet the neighbors near the flop where Hammer had first imprisoned him and now, there were things he could not yet remember. He wondered what had happened, what had been done to him, and what choices he had made in order to survive.He was sure he felt a pair of breasts moving on his chest, though he shouldn’t have such growths, and hair was tickling his shoulder on at least one side. His head throbbed on that side as well, a hard, harsh beat that seemed to keep time with the distant, yet all too close beep of the heart. Yes. I’d married John’s daughter. Patsy had been 24 when I’d first met her, and she’d been in the midst of a nasty divorce. She’d married her school sweetheart when they were both 21 and had graduated from the state university. She’d grown up; her loser of a husband hadn’t. He’d carried on trying to live his frat boy lifestyle, and a couple of months before I’d arrived she’d walked in on him and two women.I’d found the beautiful girl fascinating, hell, the woman wore a Glock 19 pistol at her hip for work. Patsy admitted that she, in turn, had been intrigued by the quiet soft-spoken Englishman who had appeared suddenly. She was intrigued enough that she had made the first move and asked me out on a date a month after I started at Lone Star.The first date started well, good food at a nice country-style restaurant then fell apart when Patsy took me to a local bar to go dancing. Dancing, for me, had been a Friday or Saturday evening in one of the numerous London clubs packed in like.
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