When he pressed his hand against her belly, it was rock-hard.
“Maybe my nightmare triggered something. I’m not sure I can go right back to sleep.”
Both of them were wide awake now. He didn’t want her to stay up worrying about something she couldn’t do anything about. If she couldn’t remember the dream, then she needed to let it go.
“Why don’t I get you a glass of warm milk or a cup of tea to calm your nerves?”
She tossed the sheet and summer blanket off and sat up. “I’ll help.”
In the kitchen, he put the kettle on while she chose a chamomile tea bag from the tin. Soon after, they sat down in the breakfast nook. A bottled water sat in front of him; he’d decided coffee might keep him up. He talked her into having a slice of apple mountain berry pie that they’d been eating since their weekend visit to the Julian Pie Company. He made sure she ate the bigger share, though. She liked sweets more than he did.
She remained quiet, blowing on and sipping the hot tea, deep in thought as she savored the pie. Then her eyes opened wide, and she set her fork down.
“I need to have a hypnotic regression!”
* * *
“What? Now?”
“Yes!” Savannah couldn’t understand how they hadn’t thought of it sooner. “It would be the perfect way for me to go back to that party and find out what really happened. I need to know what happened that night before I take the stand tomorrow.”
“My expertise with hypnosis is solely BDSM, nothing this serious.”
“Let me see if I can get in touch with the hypnotherapist from the clinic I worked at in Solana Beach. I know it’s late, but maybe she’ll be willing to help. She was appalled to find out what had happened to me as a child.”
Time was running out. She knew that the way Gentry had portrayed that night couldn’t possibly be what had really happened. She was never a nymphomaniac or sex addict.
After obtaining Michelle Patterson’s number from Anita, Savannah called to explain what she needed. Michelle only asked that they arrange for someone to meet her at the Pendleton gate and bring her to the suite at the lodge.
“I’ll call Dad and see if he can meet her at the main gate and get her on base.”
An hour and twenty minutes later, Damián met Michelle and Adam at the suite door. She suggested that Dad videotape the session in case there was an appeal. Savannah had weighed the chance she was taking, but this didn’t relate to the charges Gentry faced in court. For her own peace of mind, Savannah needed to know what really happened that night.
Michelle asked, “Where would you be most comfortable—lying on the sofa or the bed?”
Savannah glanced across the room to the sofa. “Let’s do it in here.”
“Let me get you a light blanket in case you get cold,” Damián offered before heading to the bedroom.
Savannah rearranged pillows on the sofa while Adam tested his phone video for the best spot to record. When Damián returned, she stretched out on her side and placed the blanket over her.
Michelle sat in a chair beside the sofa, asking about Savannah’s past experiences with hypnosis. She told her about her therapist and Damián’s past efforts without going into why Damián was hypnotizing her. Damián, seated at the other end of the sofa, shared his “go deeper” and “come out of trance” commands with her.
“We’ll keep the same touch to the arm as a signal to come out of trance immediately. You will retain everything you remember while in trace. But if I see you’re in distress, I’ll touch your hand, and you will recenter yourself by taking a slow, deep breath.” After explaining that a regression induction took many more steps than she’d experienced before, Michelle soon had Savannah deep into trance and guided her back to her eighteenth birthday.
“What’s going on around you, Savannah?” Michelle asked.
“It looks like a…coming-out party. I’m dressed in a beautiful white princess gown, like the one Maman wore to her first cotillion when she made her debut to Charleston society.” She furrowed her brows. “It’s all happening so quickly. My father places a tiara on my head. We pose for a photo, and Father whispers he has no interest in my body anymore. I smile for the photographer.
“Move forward to the next significant happening.”
“We sign a contract saying that I am free of him.”
Best birthday present ever.
Her smile faded. “He’s making me dance with him. I’m not comfortable having him hold me like this, but if it means I’ll be free of him at last afterward, it’s worth it.” She moaned, and her heart began to race. “He lied about having no interest in me, because I can feel his erection against my belly.”
When her breathing became rapid and shallow, Michelle tapped her hand. “Deep breath, then let it out, and we will continue,” Michelle instructed in a melodious voice.
“I plead a headache, hoping to be sent home early, but Father tells his business partner, Mr. Gibson, to bring me some aspirin and a cup of punch. Mr. Gibson makes me uncomfortable, too. He leers at me as if ready to stake his own claim on my body.”
“What happens next?”
“He shakes out two tablets into my hand and hands me the punch. I try not to touch him. After swallowing the pills, I hand the empty cup back to Mr. Gibson. Father asks if I’d like to lie down, but I say no. I want to go home, but that isn’t an option he offers.”
“Move forward to the next significant thing.”
“I notice there aren’t any women at the party. Even the servers are males. Strange, but I don’t really have my own friends who could have been invited.” She paused a moment. “I become a little flushed and go out on the balcony to get some fresh air. My palms are sweating, and I begin having trouble catching my breath. A weird sense of euphoria hits while I lean against the railing. “I suddenly feel like I’m high or something.”
“What did the pills you took look like?” Michelle asked.
“Round, white tablets. An E on one side. Mr. Gibson held an Excedrin bottle, so I assumed they were aspirins.”
“Then what happened?”
“Someone comes up behind me and places his hands around my waist, pulling me against him. I wrench myself away and turn around. He tells me my father sent him to check on me, so he must be one of his associates. He attacks me again. I struggle to get away. But he’s all hands, clawing at my breasts, pinching my nipples through my dress. I push him away and stumble backward into someone else who holds me by my arms while the first man takes my jaw and pries my mouth open. He…forces his tongue inside my mouth.” Tears wet her cheeks as she fought to fill her lungs.
A tap to her hand pulled her out enough to drag air into her lungs. Savannah relaxed, distancing herself from the emotions of that moment.
“Let’s move on to the next significant thing that happened,” Michelle suggested.
“My skin is on fire. Excruciating pain burns my face, arms, wherever I’m being touched. My heart is racing; I’m afraid it will explode from my chest. I rub my clammy hands on the skirt of the princess dress. I hope I’m not leaving any marks. This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn.
“Something weird happens next. I start getting…turned on by the way these men are touching me. I grope the crotch of the one in front of me and kiss him back. I don’t even know who this man is! Why am I behaving like this?
“A familiar voice from behind me shouts, ‘Release her,’ and they do. I fall against the balcony railing, gasping for air, and turn to find Father standing in the doorway, sneering at me.”
‘Inside, you dirty little whore.’
“He is angry. Says some ugly things.”
“What things?” she prompted.
“He calls me a dirty little whore.” Her mouth becomes suddenly dry. “I haven’t seen him this angry at me since I was little. I’m more afraid of him than ever. My entire body shakes, so I do as he says. Mr. Gibson is waiting inside the doors and yanks me by the arm across the room and through a
ccordion doors into another area of the ballroom I’m not familiar with.”
“What happens there?”
She swallowed hard. “The room is filled with men. It looks like all the people I had seen at the party earlier. Maybe even some of the servers. They’re all leering at me. Mr. Gibson pulls some papers out of his pocket and waves them at me, saying that I’ve agreed to service them—all of them—and anyone else he and Father say I should.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “He’s holding the contract I signed earlier.” That contract wasn’t meant to free me at all. Why didn’t I read it? Of course, what other options do I have? I can’t escape Father. Now he plans to hand me over to other men. I still have no control over my life or my body.
“I turn to run away, but several of them surround me and block my exit. They force me onto a table…no, wait. It’s a slant board. They must have brought it in here just for this. They tip me at an angle with my head lower then my feet at first, making me dizzy. All I can see are the men standing around me. Some unzip themselves.” Her heart pounded harder as her throat closed up. “I fear they are all going to take turns raping me. They pinch my skin, my nipples, my privates. God, the pain! Every part of my body is hypersensitive.”
“What do you think was the reason for that?”
“Maybe that wasn’t aspirin I took but some kind of drug.”
“What happened to you while on the table?”
“I think I blacked out for a little while.” Or had she merely blocked that part out? “When I come to, I’m still on the board and several men are ejaculating onto me and my dress.” Her chest, face, and feet were wet with cum, and her stomach roiled. “I’m going to be sick.”
Michelle tapped her hand. “Pull away from the emotional power of the scene, and tell me what’s happening as if you’re a fly on the ceiling.”
Savannah took a breath and viewed the scene from above. “Shimmers of light from the sparkling crystals on the dress are juxtaposed with the flecks of shiny puddles where their semen lands on my body. The bodice of the dress has been ripped open, leaving me naked above the waist. And there are red stripes across my chest where a flogger or single tail must have been used while I was unconscious.”
Savannah tried to block the image, but it only came through more vividly. Her breathing became labored. She wanted to escape the room.
From her right came Michelle’s voice. “When I bring you out of trance, you’ll remember every detail of what you saw during this session and will be able to tell your story when you’re on the stand tomorrow as if watching a movie.”
She felt a swipe down her arm. Savannah opened her eyes and blinked a few times. Even though the room wasn’t brightly lit, it took a moment for her eyes to seek out Damián’s. Adam and Damián came into focus. Her husband’s jaw was clenched so tightly she was afraid he was about to ram his fist through a wall.
Then he smiled, and her body sank into the sofa. “Welcome back, querida.”
“You don’t know how happy I am to be here with you and not in that dark place anymore.”
“I hate what that bastard put you through.”
Unable to speak past the knot in her throat, she nodded. After a moment, she said, “There are still some fuzzy areas. I might never remember those. But I have enough detail to refute the lies Gentry told on the stand today.”
“That’s all that matters,” Michelle said, standing. “You stay there, Savannah.” Turning to Adam, she added, “I think I can find myself off the base okay.”
“It’s late. I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
“Michelle, I appreciate you coming out to do this tonight on such short notice.”
She shrugged. “I’m a night owl. No problem at all.”
“You’ve helped me immeasurably. I owe you one.”
“Just try and stay calm during your testimony and deliver another healthy baby. That’s all I want from you.”
After Michelle and Adam said their goodnights and goodbyes, Damián helped Savannah’s to sit up before seating himself beside her and pulling her into his arms. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that, bebé. Both a decade ago and tonight.”
A flash of memory from the regression invades her consciousness again. “Oh God. I recognize the first man who groped me on the balcony. He testified on Gentry’s behalf.” She fought the urge to vomit.
“Where are you, Savannah?”
She drew a ragged breath. “Here with you, Sir.”
“All that suffering happened in the past.”
She nodded. “Gentry, Lyle, and those men can never hurt me again.”
“That’s my good girl. Stay in the present.”
She nodded. “Best of all, I’m going to go into that courtroom tomorrow and send Gentry away for the rest of his life.” That needed to be her sole focus tomorrow.
“Yes, you are, my warrior princess.”
Damián held her in his arms again after they went to bed, as if to help keep the nightmares at bay—and it worked.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, Savannah’s chest burned as she forced air into her lungs. The pounding between her temples and throbbing in her lower back didn’t bode well for her giving her rebuttal this morning after Gentry was cross-examined by the DA. But the sooner she got this out of the way, the sooner she could go back to Denver and put this all behind her for all time.
Once again, the three of them entered the courtroom before the jury or judge had taken their seats, a little earlier than usual. The DA hadn’t arrived yet, either, but the defense attorney was already seated next to Gentry.
Despite her best effort to avoid eye contact, her gaze was inevitably drawn to the two men at that table. As if connected telepathically, Gentry turned in her direction, a self-satisfied smirk on his face before his gaze strayed briefly to the entrance behind her.
Flashes of the many times she’d seen that expression in the past, usually the precursor to a severe punishment or new degradation of some sort, robbed her of any bravado she might have mustered this morning.
Something’s wrong. He’s up to no good.
Damián took her by the elbow to keep her moving toward their seats. She hadn’t even realized she’d stopped in the middle of the aisle. Adam preceded them into the row behind where they had been sitting yesterday. The room was fuller today than it had been before; this trial was attracting a great deal of public interest. More strangers she’d have to speak in front of. People had such prurient interests.
But Damián had prepared her to be exposed in front of both strangers and Gentry when she told this story. Soon, she could tell all the lurid details of what had been her hellish life under this man’s evil sovereignty. At least she’d be clothed, unlike her practice sessions with Damián. The corner of her mouth quirked upward, and she relaxed a little.
Damián leaned forward to place himself between her and Gentry, breaking off eye contact between them. Without his telling her to do so, she tilted her head back and met Damián’s gaze.
“Remember your mantra, Savannah?”
She responded, “I am strong.” Thanks to you. “I can’t be beaten.” Never again. “I will tell my story.” At last.
He smiled. “That’s my good girl.”
I am Damián’s good girl.
She basked in the warmth of his approving smile, flashing back to the moment where he had claimed her horrific brand as his own. She’d trusted him then. She would trust him now. He would stay beside her today and throughout her rebuttal as she faced down the greatest evil in her life and told her story.
“Ready, bebé?”
Pulling her shoulders back, she nodded. Shifting her focus to the witness stand where she soon would be seated again, she repeated her mantra over and over as she mentally prepared herself. She couldn’t wait to set the record straight about the monster who had terrorized her since she was eight—the man who had also killed her mother and John Grainger.
He needed to pay for th
ose crimes most of all, but that testimony had already been presented. Today was all about reclaiming her power and not letting him perpetuate any more lies about her.
But when Damián sat back in his seat, Savannah once again felt the intensity of Gentry’s stare boring into her. She ignored him as best she could, but sweat broke out on her palms. Why didn’t he leave her alone? Even now, he tried to torment her. Why couldn’t he see that, for once, she had the upper hand? That his reign of intimidation was over?
The doors opened at the back of the courtroom, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gentry’s chair swivel around. Unable to ignore him any longer, she watched as a hateful grin lit his face.
What now?
“Mr. Damián Orlando?” a deep voice asked.
Savannah, Adam, and Damián turned simultaneously toward the aisle to see a tall man standing there dressed in a khaki uniform with a sheriff’s badge on his left breast.
“Yes, sir,” Damián answered.
He then addressed Adam. “Adam Montague?”
The deputy used the Romeo and Juliet pronunciation ending in -gu rather than -tag, which Adam corrected when he responded. “Yes, I’m Adam Montague. How can we help you?”
“You’re both under arrest.”
Savannah gasped. For what? This couldn’t be happening. They didn’t even live out here anymore. How could they have committed a crime? They’d barely left her side.
Savannah tried to focus on the officers, but her gaze was inexorably drawn in Gentry’s direction. He sat grinning at her, evil oozing from every pore, and mouthed the words, “I told you—I will win.”
He was responsible for this. Well, who else would get away with filing bogus charges and having a judge follow through?
“Now, if you gentlemen will come with us.” Adam’s being in uniform might have garnered more respect than they might otherwise been afforded.
Her heart pounded harder, bringing back her headache. What would happen to them behind bars?
No! This can’t be happening!
The three of them stood, Damián helping Savannah to her feet and Adam moving around them to get closer to the deputy.
Somebody’s Perfect Page 26
