Indy and the Control Freak 5

For the story so far

Indy and the Control Freak

“Jesus Sam, get a grip,” Sam said to himself on the other side of the door.  He couldn’t yet hear the shower going, but he stripped off his shirt, shoes, and socks.  Indy was out of bounds.  She didn’t need to know about him.  She needed to sort out her life.  He needed to concentrate on the growing business.  He needed to concentrate on finishing his house.  He needed to concentrate on anything but Indy.  He did not need to get involved.

Sam headed downstairs and dumped his wet clothes into the laundry tub.

Indy’s phone rang and he headed out to the foyer.  He reached for her bag and hunted through it to find the phone.  It stopped ringing as soon as he found it.  The number did not come up as in Indy’s address book.

He took his phone from the hall stand and rang Matt.  There was no answer.  He wandered into the kitchen to boil the kettle.  The clock on the oven said it was now after 11pm, too late for a social call, so who had called Indy.  Sam looked at the phone.  It was an older model, a few years old.  He could hack it pretty easily, but Indy would kill him if he broke into her phone.  Jesus all this thinking was doing him in.  He placed some Russian Caravan tea into the pot and poured the hot water over it, then, whilst it was steeping he made a hot chocolate for Indy.  Not getting involved would be much easier, he decided, even though he knew it was not going to happen.  She needed him for something, neither he nor Indy knew what.

Sam retrieved a notepad from a drawer.  A phone call at 2300, he listed.  Stranger stopping to help, the car ran out of fuel despite believing it to be full, sunroof open even though it hadn’t been used for a while, sunroof broke in the open position.  Date stood up.  He added a couple more dot points that were empty.


I headed downstairs after my shower, wrapped up in Samuel’s clothing.  It was way too big for me, but it smelt of him and he smelt confident, strong, capable.  My wet clothing was wrapped in the big luxurious bath towel.  It was a dream, this. I mean wearing Sam’s clothes.  Did not every girl dream of being enveloped into the clothing of a man they wanted?

I found Sam sitting in his kitchen, doodling on a notepad.  A steaming cup of tea in front of him and the smell of a hot chocolate permeating through the air.

“Laundry,” I asked him.

He nodded to a door on the other side of the kitchen. “There’s a load of towels in the washing machine already.  Just put your clothes in and start it up.” He was all business now.

I headed into the laundry.  It was large and organized.  No pile of dirty clothes, instead an inside drying rack, bench top with folded linen and clothes and a washing machine that could be hidden was all that was visible except for a few other cupboards.  I placed my clothes in and shut the door. The machine turned on automatically.

“Is this mine,” I asked of the hot chocolate.  Sam nodded.

“You had a phone call whilst you were in the shower.”

I must have paled slightly because Sam gave me a suspicious look.

“If it was Matt, he would have called you immediately afterward so I guess there is no baby yet.”  I faked a yawn. “I’m pretty tired Samuel, where can I sleep?”

“The call came up as unknown.” Sam persisted.

“Maybe it was a wrong number.”  I hoped that Sam couldn’t see the hot chocolate trembling in the mug.

He paused and studied me.

“There are clean sheets on my bed.  You take my bed and,” he raised his hand in the universal stop signal, stalling my argument.  “I have one bed in this house and that is my bed. You confessed to being tired, I am going to do a little bit of work for the business.  I don’t want to disturb you so.  I will bunk down in my study.  It has a very comfortable sofa.” Sam rose and took his notepad and tea with him.  There was no point arguing.  He did not even say goodnight as he left the room.

I finished my hot chocolate and washed out the cup.  My phone beeped and I rushed out to the entrance.  The phone was sitting on the hall stand and I picked it up.  I unlocked the phone and pressed the message button.  An image appeared. I felt the color drain out of my face,  the screen on the phone seemed to shake as I dumped the phone to the bottom of my bag.

“Not Matt then,” Sam asked from a doorway I hadn’t noticed.

“No,” I responded and headed up the stairs as quickly as I could.  I was dealing with this myself.  My brother and his damn sexy best friend were not going to help me.  Matt had not been there before when it mattered and I was not going to have Matt interfere with this now.  And if Sam helped me then Matt would know.  I was solving this by myself.  Nothing was going to happen to me here anyway.  I eyed the computer screen controlling Fort Knox.  If I wasn’t safe here, then I was not safe anywhere.


Sam eyed Indy thoughtfully as she dumped the phone back in her bag and headed up the stairs like the hounds of hell were on her tail.  He looked at her bag willing the phone to ring.  When it didn’t he moved to the computer screen and checked the security on the house, then he moved to his hidden gun cabinet and entered the code that caused a reasonable section of the wall to swing open.  He selected two Glock 41 Gen 4s and spare magazines before retreating into his office and settling in behind his computer.

He opened the internet and entered Indy’s name and then sighed.  She would not appreciate the invasion of privacy.  He could not control her and he could not control what happened to her, just like he could not control what was happening to his mother.  People had to ask for help, that was a lesson he had learned a very long time ago.  He shut down the browser and pulled up security details for the businesses he was currently responsible for and created his end of month reports.

Indy and the Control Freak 6Indy and the Control Freak 6

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