As she got closer, I felt myself leaning more toward her. I blinked hard and forced myself back. What the fuck was wrong with me? Shit. I was going to end up getting myself killed if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass and focus on the job. This wasn’t even my girl. I’d still save her, but Marie was supposed to be my focus.
Kaitlyn’s nude body turned around and kneeled right in front of the door I was using for cover. Her hands went behind to rest over her ass while she sat on the heels of her feet. We were literally a foot away. All I had to do was reach over and I could trace my fingertip down the arch in her back if I wanted. And, fuck me…I did. My fingers twitched at the thought. If it wasn’t for the multiple lacerations covering her skin, I would have teased the idea even more. Given what I was faced with, all that took over was revenge.
“Perfect, zvezda moya. You’ll be rewarded for your obedience.” The black jacket the man wore was tossed on the bed, revealing a cream colored long sleeve shirt.
The movement of Kaitlyn’s hand drew my attention. Again, she motioned. What the hell was she doing? A quick little wave of her fingers came next. Was she signaling for me to give her something? The gesture turned panicked and I knew she was about to break. Shit. The decision twisted my insides. If I didn’t give her what she wanted, things were about to get a lot worse. Possibly fatal, for me or her. Maybe, both. At least I still had my gun. I’d see what she was capable of. If he somehow got the upper hand, I’d put a bullet right through his fucking head.
My hand lowered until it was right over the floor. Slowly, I eased the handle of the knife into her palm. An exhale filled the room. Something so small, yet in that moment, I knew to her it was a memory she’d always keep close. That gave me hope for her.
“Master, may I ask you something?” She cleared her throat and brought one of her hands up to her neck. White knuckles appeared as she gripped the knife even tighter in the other.
The masked man came forward. He looked every bit the role he tried to portray. His stance mirrored a man of wealth. Power. But, he was anything but. A wanna-be. A breaker of beautiful women. And, I knew exactly why. My job as a detective hadn’t been for nothing. My ability to read people was priceless. In real life, this man wouldn’t be given the time of day by a woman a quarter as beautiful as Kaitlyn, and he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand his shitty life. The anger he took out on slaves was the only way he knew how to release his rejection. There was no doubt in my mind he was buying beauty to destroy it.
“Speak, Star. What is it?”
Coughing began to fill the room. “I can’t.” She coughed some more. The shitbag walked forward, leaning down. I reached around to my back, pulling the Glock free. So fast that it shocked me, Kaitlyn flew forward, shoving the blade straight into the masked man’s throat. The slice downward had blood spraying out, followed by gargling. The beautiful slave captured my heart even more as she continued lunging her hand forward. Stabbing. Slicing. Even when he fell over the edge of the bed and tried flopping around the floor, her skinny frame held him down so she could keep working the knife.
“You like to cut women?” she whispered.
Fucking whispered. This was no anger induced murder she was committing. She was in complete control. That had my eyes going wide. Who was this woman who could filet a man so easily that it didn’t even show in her voice? That she kept control so she wouldn’t alert the others?
Kaitlyn jerked off his mask and covered his mouth as small gasps came out. Shit. She was blocking his air. As if leaving him on the verge of death by stabbing wasn’t enough, she wanted to suffocate him? The awe I experienced couldn’t be hidden behind my mask of disinterest. This woman on her best day could have taken off her clothes and begged me to dominate her, and I wouldn’t have been as captivated as I was in this very moment.
“I like to cut, too,” she whispered. “If you ask me, I think I do it better.” The blade imbedded into his chest with one thrust and she stood, taking a deep breath. It didn’t stop at one. A series of large intakes left her. I pushed to my feet. The bright blue of her eyes jerked to me, wild. Panicked…free.
“I…” She looked back at the man. The fullness of her lips parted, and then closed. Slowly, her focus returned and I shook my head. There was no use for words. What happened, happened. Excuses or fluffing the truth wasn’t going to work here. If she hadn’t done it, Kaitlyn would have witnessed it coming from me. Either way, the man’s fate wouldn’t have changed.
The mold stench came back as I turned toward the closet. She needed clothes. Something warm. “We need to get you dressed. We have a long, cold walk ahead of us.” Without thought, I took out a T-shirt and wiped the blood off of her face, hands, and chest. She didn’t seem to notice or mind in the least. Her stare never left me.
“Who are you?” Even now, she continued to keep her voice down.
I pulled a large, dark green sweater and sweatpants from the hanger, thrusting them at her. “Later. Put these on. I have a girl to find.”
“Which one? There’s three of us here.”
I tried to keep stop my fists from clenching. “Three?” What the hell was I going to do with three girls? Two was bad enough. If one collapsed, I could deal with that. The other could walk. If two out of the three were bad off, we were fucked in more ways than one. I might be strong, but toting two girls over my shoulder for miles in the snow wasn’t my idea of a quick getaway.
“Yes. I haven’t seen them often. They have more freedom than me. One has blonde hair. The other, she’s French, I believe. I heard her talking another language that wasn’t the same as these men. I took Spanish in high school and I know it wasn’t that. But she said, oui, a lot, so I’m just guessing.” Kaitlyn grabbed the clothes, sliding them on. The wince as she pulled the sweater on made me want to go stab the asshole again. I walked over, pulling my blade free. The blood smeared against his jeans as I wiped his essence clean and placed it back in its sheath.
Great. I had a French girl, a Southern girl, and a model from LA. I’d have to make some calls once I got to the car. “My girl’s from Texas. Meets the description of the first. Did you happen to notice a tattoo on her wrist?”
Kaitlyn grinned a little. The sight of it was a tad bit unnerving. Here she was, beaten, previously restrained, just killed a man, and now she was smiling? I almost couldn’t grasp how calm she appeared. Slaves weren’t like this. Not the ones I’d come across.
“A flower,” she said, lowly.
It took me a few seconds to make my mind start working. I was overanalyzing her, yet I couldn’t stop myself from noticing how the dark green of the sweater played off her blue eyes. Jesus.
“Yes.” I handed her a bulky jacket I grabbed from another hanger. The temperature of her hand as she took it was warm. Too warm. “That’s Marie. Her parents hired me to bring her home.”
“Must be nice.” The statement was so quiet it was almost inaudible. I knew Kaitlyn Summers didn’t have parents, or any family for that matter. If she did, they would have been on the television, begging for someone to find their daughter. The only people I saw on the news were a handful of other models crying over their missing friend. If it was genuine, it wasn’t very believable.
Blood filled my mouth and I suddenly realized I was biting the inside of my cheeks. The sadness that radiated from her didn’t sit well with me at all. She’d already been through so much. For her to go through any more could wait until I dropped her off. I wasn’t cut out to deal with emotions. “Hey,” my gloved hand reached out and I pushed under her chin, bringing her face back up to me, “you weren’t unnoticed, Kaitlyn Summers.”
Instantly, her hand came up to cover the scar on her face. “You know who I am?”
My fingers left her chin and swatted her hand away before I considered how she might be affected. To think she was hiding herself from me out of embarrassment crawled under my skin. Scarred or not, she was still one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Hell, even the bruises couldn’t
conceal what she’d been blessed with.
“Never hide who you are. Wear that shit like a badge. Be proud. You’re alive, baby.” I gripped the back of my neck, thinking. She needed assurance. Confidence. I wasn’t sure if I was helping, but she’d take it for what it was. “The whole country is looking for you. It’s time to go home. What do you say?” I stepped back and held out my hand, offering her something I’d never willingly given to any slave who wasn’t injured. Security in contact.
Rule one—broken.
Chapter 2
Kaitlyn
I let the leather slide across my fingertips as I eased my hand into the mysterious man’s. Leather. Such a fetish of mine before all of this happened. Especially gloves. The feel of the cool, smoothness sliding over my nose and mouth, down my throat, clutching, squeezing….with the way my body responded, maybe it still was.
The response to the material died just as fast as it came. Hesitantly, I looked into the flat stare of my rescuer’s light blue eyes. Well, technically, he wasn’t mine. He was here for the other girl, but he’d saved me from this life by showing up and giving me his knife. That was something.
“We need to get out of here. It won’t be long before they come looking for their friend. I heard one of the girls further down the hall. It’s time I round them up. Maybe you should stay in here until I come get you.” His fingers enclosed over mine, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. The thought that he would had instant fear surging inside me.
“Please, don’t leave me here,” I begged, noticing my voice had cracked. “What if you don’t come back?”
The side of his mouth rose into a smile so dark my brain seized to grasp the sudden change of emotion I felt. Fear turned into arousal in a heartbeat, making me take a step back. The length of my arm outstretched and the expression on his face changed to one of annoyance.
“Trust me. I’ll be back. You’re better off here. You’ve already been through and seen too much.”
“I’m not weak. I wish I had more time, I’d have done more damage than that blow-and- go butchery I managed. Bastard deserved to suffer like I did.” The words tumbled out, making his eyebrows draw in. Slowly, he shook his head.
“No. I’d say you’re not weak at all.” The grip tightened.
Warmth settled in my bones for the first time since I’d been here. Every step we took toward the door made pain flicker through my body like an electrical shortage. The twinges, accompanied by my shaky, unused legs had me feeling lightheaded by the time he grabbed the door knob. It probably would have been better if I stayed, but I couldn’t. The thought that something would happen to my rescuer and I would be stranded here in this room for another second gave me the strength to keep going.
“Not a word. You stand behind me at all times. If something bad happens, which it won’t, but if…you fucking run.” He pulled a flashlight out of the belt around his waist and pushed it into my free hand. “I have a car almost three miles south.” He pointed toward the front of the house. “Black piece of shit hidden behind some bushes. You won’t miss it. Keys are inside. Ten miles down the main road, that way,” he pointed to the far side, “is the airport. You’ll see the sign a mile down. If you don’t, you’re going the wrong way. I have a plane waiting. Give them the name Blake Morgan and tell them to take you home. Now, repeat it.”
The instructions replayed in my mind until I had them imprinted. “Three miles, that way.” I gestured with my head. “Black car. I take it ten miles, that way.” Again, I motioned. “Blake Morgan.” For some reason, fluttering tickled my stomach at saying his name. There was a power to it that was inexplicable. I lifted my hand that held his and brought the leather glove to my lips, pressing against the cool material. “Thank you, Blake.”
I didn’t miss the way he tensed. His fingers from his other hand weaved through the dirty blond of his hair and strands stuck up at odd angles. Out of all the jobs I’d done, I’d never seen a sexier man. GQ would have jumped to have his face on their magazine. Strong, defined jaw, his nose, thin and straight, but it was those luscious lips that called to me. As for his body, well, I couldn’t see it behind the thick layers of black tactical clothing he wore, but given his wide shoulders and lean waist, I had no doubt he was the full package.
“Now—
“Andon!” The voice echoed from the distance and I guessed it was coming from downstairs. Nausea pushed against the back of my throat and I was lifted so fast, I nearly screamed at the agony that took over my back from his fingers.
“You stay in the fucking closet until I say.”
Clothes pushed my hair forward as he practically tossed me inside and pushed the door almost all the way shut. Pounding from the stairs had me gripping the flashlight tight. The view I had from the small crack didn’t show me shit. Blake was gone, out of my sight, and I had no clue where he was.
Seconds dragged out for an eternity. The heavy, uneven breaths coming from my mouth echoed in my ears. The intense pressure and ringing made me want to open my mouth wide to try to get my ears to pop, but I was too afraid to move. Frozen, I waited. The creaking of the door stopped my breathing altogether.
“An—
The smallest gasp accompanied with a light thump was all I heard. Then, nothing. I lowered to the ground and peered out of the crack only to come face to face with wide brown eyes. Lifeless. Oh, shit…I couldn’t move. Couldn’t break my stare from the empty one of a dead captor. For minutes, I was caught in a trance. A voice ripped me from the darkness.
“Hey!” The yell in the distance was followed by a shot, one so quiet I wasn’t sure if that’s what it had been. My soul slammed into every inch of my skin. Without thought,I threw open the closet door to come face to face with my rescuer’s name smeared across the wall in blood.Blake.What was he doing? Did he want people to know who was responsible for these deaths? These Masters had friends. I’d heard them downstairs. Was Blake stupid, or did he have a death wish?
Eerie silence had my flesh crawling enough to break my focus on the name. I stopped at the threshold of the door and glanced down the hall. Sweat from my palm made the flashlight seem heavier. The blonde was huddled in the center, curled in a fetal position. What had the rescuer said her name was? Fear made each step toward her feel like I was walking through quicksand.
“Hey,” I whispered. “Marie?” Damn, I hoped that was her name. “Marie,” I hissed, impatiently. Green eyes rose in my direction and I waved my hand. “Come. We have to go.” Her head turned toward the door she was sitting outside of and the length of the hall took forever as I came to stand before her. Maybe I was afraid of what I was going to see. A part of me already suspected.
Blake.Right there on the back wall. The third captor lay dead in the center of the room. The soulless stare I was beginning to attribute to him turned to me and I swore I was looking at the devil himself. In this mode, he wasn’t the rescuer. He was a killer. Pure and simple. Blake Morgan was every bit as evil as the men who’d bought all of us, if not more. Not in the way they were, but somewhere, within, darkness had taken him over…like me, so long ago.
The door behind me opened and I jumped, spinning around. The French girl walked out, trembling.
“Everyone get dressed as warm as you can. We’re going home.” Blake strode past me, clutching to my hand and pulling me further away from the other slaves. He took the flashlight, putting it back in the belt. “Mentally, you’re the strongest here. Get them going. We don’t have much time. The guy was on the phone when I came in. Hell only knows who he was talking to.”
Numbly, I nodded and broke away. “Girls, let’s get going,” I shouted. “Hurry up, unless you want new Masters.” The threat had a cry coming from Marie’s mouth. She jumped up, but wouldn’t go through the door of the bloody room. “Marie.” My voice was harsh, but I couldn’t contain my own anxieties. The warning worked and she burst into the room, keeping her focus straight ahead. My attention went to the French girl who was still standing there. “Cloth
es.” I grabbed the jacket, pulling at it. “Now.” The wave seemed to work as she caught my meaning. I looked down at my feet. Shit. I needed shoes.
Blake stepped in my path as I approached my old room. Damn, I really didn’t want to go back in there.
“You’re doing great, Kaitlyn.” He lowered his voice. “I need you to stay strong for me. Just a little longer.”
A sarcastic laugh exploded from my lips, startling me. Where the hell had that come from? Fuck, I wasn’t good in the head. That was evident not only to me, but to the man whose eyebrows drew in from my outburst. “All I know how to do is be strong, Mr. Morgan. No one breaks me. This…” I waved my hand, letting the sarcasm pour from my lips like a flood of acid. “Just a fucking time stamp in the passport of my damaged, but beautiful life.”
There was no reason to continue with the conversation. I slipped past him and looked at the dead men on the floor. Blood pooled on the old wood beneath their lifeless bodies. My mind took in every little detail. Seeing this would help me with the nightmares. These bastards wouldn’t be back for me. Thanks to Blake, I had nothing to fear from them.
A new pair of rain boots rested at the top of the closet. They weren’t going to be warm, but they’d do. My eyes looked down, only to go back to them. I may be five-foot-seven, but the top shelf was even too high for me. Without thought, I stepped on the dead man’s back and grabbed them. Now, all I needed were socks. I wheeled around, catching Blake’s penetrating stare. What was he thinking? Probably that I was off my rocker. Well, I wasn’t the only one. My name sure as hell wasn’t written on the wall in blood for all to see.
BLAKE: Captive to the Dark Page 2
