We were all barefoot and wearing dresses carefully chosen for the evening. I’d told Deanna and Grace to pick something easy to run and climb in. While pants would have been far preferable, we didn’t have that option, so each of us had gone for short and close-fitted, rather than the longer, full skirts that were also an option.
My dress was white with spaghetti straps, and clung to every curve. The hem stopped only a couple of inches down my thighs. I had to wonder if Torres had bought it when he’d believed me to still be a virgin. The white would have made sense then.
Butterflies dived and weaved in my belly, and I clenched my fists to my side. I wasn’t a violent person, but I was going to need to find that fight deep inside me if I was going to do this. I had Deanna and Grace relying on me, too, and I couldn’t back out at the last minute. A single second of hesitation might get one of us killed.
Torres appeared relaxed and happy as he guided us up through the corridor and staircase, and into the house beyond. He offered us our choice of stiletto shoes again.
“I think I’d rather go bare-footed,” I dared to ask. “I feel so much more relaxed and comfortable like this. More... natural.”
I was thinking about what it would be like running in a pair of those heels.
But he pursed his lips and frowned. “No, Catalina. I like to see a woman’s legs presented properly, and there’s something about heels that makes a woman look one hundred percent sexier.” His gaze flicked down my body, appraising my bare legs, and then he bent and picked a pair of strappy silver stilettos from the collection. He ran his thumb down the insole and fingered the straps. It suddenly dawned on me that these were his shoes. Him not giving them to us to wear had nothing to do with us not using them to escape or as a weapon. They were never supposed to be ours. He was just using us as a way to display them.
“Here.” He crouched at my feet. “These will look perfect with your dress.”
I looked down at the top of his smooth, dark head, and wondered if now was the time. I could grab the back of his head and ram my knee up into it. But it wasn’t enough. It might give us a minute or two head start, but he’d quickly recover himself and come after us. I needed to do something more... permanent.
Needing to keep my balance, I placed my hand on his shoulder and lifted my foot for him to slip on the shoe. He did so gently, and I lifted my gaze from him, feeling awkward in this strangely intimate moment, to catch Kimmie glaring at me again. I wanted to growl at her, to pick up the other shoe and throw it at her, but I knew nothing I said or did would make any difference. She believed I was trying to steal Torres from her.
Maybe she’d finally be convinced that I wasn’t when I stuck him with a knife.
Torres strapped on the second pump and straightened.
“Perfect.” He gave me an appraising smile. “Now, I think we’ve kept our guests waiting long enough.”
I forced a tight smile in return, deliberately not meeting the gazes of the other women, who had all chosen shoes of their own and now stood several inches taller. I noted how Kimmie had worn a red dress, similar to the one I’d worn the previous time, even though the color clashed with her hair.
Just as before, we were led through into the dining room where several men waited for us. There were only three this time, which meant there was an equal number of women to men. I quickly scoured the table, checking for anything that could be used as a weapon. Sure enough, they’d not eaten yet, as the table was still laid for dinner. Glasses filled with either champagne or what I assumed to be whiskey were also on the table. The champagne glasses were tall and delicate, but the whiskey glasses looked heavier and might create more damage when swung to the head. But it was mainly the knives I was after. If I could get my hands on one, I could really hurt someone with it.
I remembered what I’d told the others. We needed to get the men into positions of vulnerability before we tried anything. It would be our best chance at escape.
These men were different than the previous ones. One was in his thirties, studious-looking with glasses. The other seemed to be more of a meathead type, with muscles and tattoos, and a cruel glint to his blue eyes. Beside him was a young, handsome black man with a smoothly shaved head and a goatee. I wondered how they knew each other. Business associates, I assumed, but what kind of business? Did they know we were being kept prisoner beneath the house, and did they just not care?
A part of me wanted Torres to send me to one of the other men, to let them have some fun with me, but I knew deep down that he wasn’t going to. Besides, I needed to be the one with him if I was going to do this. It had been my idea, and I couldn’t leave it in the hands of Deanna, and certainly not Grace.
The black guy and the guy in glasses both half-rose from their seats as we entered. I felt the gaze of each of the men on me, flicking up and down my body, before moving onto Deanna beside me. They were figuring out which of us suited their tastes more. It literally felt like we were inanimate objects, and that same flame of rage I’d experienced down in the room sparked inside me. They had no right to look at us in this way and expect what they were expecting.
Despite my years of training, this time I didn’t drop my gaze. Instead, I lifted my chin and met the salacious stares of each of the men, greeting them with a challenge in my eyes. The meathead met my gaze, and the corner of his lip lifted in a smirk.
“I’ll take the brunette,” he said, jerking his chin toward me.
But Torres stepped in. “Sorry, Ward. That one is mine.”
His eyebrows lifted, and the smirk dropped from his face. “Tease.”
I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze again. I didn’t want to anger Torres. Not now.
“Yeah, I just bought her. She’s still new.”
“Fine,” Wade said, keeping his tone level, though I could hear that he was pissed at being denied access to me. “I’ll take the redhead, then.”
Kimmie was going to love being picked second to me.
If she was angry that Torres had chosen me again, and that she’d also been second choice to me, she didn’t show it as she shimmied over to Wade, who pushed his chair back and yanked her into his lap. The guy in the glasses beckoned a finger toward Deanna. She shot me a look before going to him, one that I interpreted as I hope you’re ready for this.
Grace went over to the last of the men. She kept her head down, her blonde hair falling over her face. He pursed his full lips at her, as though he was disappointed he’d gotten the worst of the bunch. My heart went out to Grace. Of all the women here, I felt for her the most. Maybe it was because I related to her. She’d been young when she’d been taken and had barely experienced a life before this.
Determination solidified in my soul.
I allowed Torres to guide me over to his side of the table. If he bent me over it again, it would put me right in line with the cutlery. I could probably even lie on top of one of the knives—silver, I guessed—the sharp blade glinting in the light from the chandelier hanging above the table. I cursed myself for not having done that the last time. I’d missed out on an opportunity, but I hadn’t even been thinking about that then. I’d been too caught up in the horror of what was happening to me.
“Come here, Catalina.”
I teetered toward him on my heels. He reached out and caught my hand, and I sucked in a breath, anticipating him turning me around and pushing me over the table. I remembered what I said to the others about making sure the men were disarmed. That would mean waiting until Torres had his pants down, and I knew what he’d be about to do to me if he was in that position.
But instead of twisting me around, he reached up and gripped me by the chin and ducked his head. He licked slowly up my throat, over my chin, and to my mouth. I parted my lips for him, pushing out my own tongue, knowing what he wanted. I had to give it to him to keep myself safe and get us to the point where I could attack. He tasted of coffee, and brandy, and cigar smoke as he pushed his tongue into my mouth and let out a groan.
“Suck my cock, Catalina,” he said, one hand on my shoulder, pushing me to my knees.
I dropped down obediently, though my heart hammered. All I could think of were the potential weapons on the table. But I needed to distract him before I could try anything, and as much as it sickened me to do so, I was going to have to give him what he wanted.
Around the room, I heard the harsh breaths and the heady moans of the others. I didn’t need to look to know exactly what they were doing. Was Deanna watching me, waiting for my signal to attack? Had she, too, fixed her attention on one of the items of cutlery to use as a weapon? What about Grace? When it came down to it, would she rise to the moment?
I reached for Elliot Torres’s belt buckle, flipping it open. A ridge ran down the inside of his suit pants, and I rubbed my palm over his hardness, massaging him through the material, feeling him grow even more erect beneath my touch.
His hand moved from my shoulder to my hair. “Take me out.”
I pulled down the zipper and reached in. My fingers met with heat and hardness, and I pretended to struggle.
“I want these down,” I said, gazing up at him, and yanking at the side of his pants, pulling them from his hips.
He didn’t fight me, but allowed me to pull them down so they were around his ankles. I hoped the others were doing the same—making it harder for the men to chase us when the time came. It might only buy us a matter of seconds, but those few seconds could make the difference between freedom or death. Torres wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his cock jutted out into the space between us. The not unpleasant scent of salty musk filled my nostrils. I needed to get my hands on one of the knives on the table, but right now I couldn’t do that without him noticing. If I could get him to shut his eyes, however...
I leaned in and opened my mouth. I’d never touched another man’s cock other than Angelo’s, and I hated that I was doing this, but I had no choice. Putting out my tongue, I swirled a circle around the smooth dome of his bell-end. Salty pre-cum coated my palate, and I swallowed it down. I created an O with my lips and took him into my mouth. He was a little bigger than Angelo, and I hated that I was comparing them.
“Ah, fuck, yes,” he groaned from above me, sucking air in over his teeth as though I was causing him pain.
I slid my lips up and down his length, taking him as deep as I could without gagging, even though I wanted to throw up. I felt him swelling in my mouth, growing even larger and harder. Reaching between his legs, I cupped his balls in my hand, squeezing and massaging him as I sucked him off.
“That’s right, Catalina. You’re so good at that.”
I moved faster, bobbing back and forth. The noises of people sucking and fucking, and flesh slapping together came from all around me. Moans and whispered words of encouragement filled my ears. My pussy pulsed with wetness, despite myself. I had to remember the plan.
Torres’s eyes slid shut, and I reached behind me with my other hand, twisting my shoulder blade, feeling for the top of the table. My fingers were only inches away. I kept up my movements on him, not wanting him to notice anything was wrong. I bobbed down again, his cock hitting the soft palate at the back of my throat, and I forced myself to go even deeper, swallowing him down.
“Ah, fuck yes,” he gasped. “You’re mine, Catalina. My best girl.”
A scream of fury came from behind me, and the knife I’d been trying to reach was swiped out from under my fingers. For a fraction of a second, I didn’t understand what was happening, and then I saw Kimmie in my line of sight, swinging down the knife I’d been trying to reach, her arm in a dangerous arc.
I released Torres from my mouth, rearing back.
“No, Kimmie!”
I lifted my arms above my head, trying to protect myself.
Only the knife didn’t land in my direction. Instead, it slammed into the side of Torres’s neck, protruding from his flesh like some strange body modification. He stared at me in shock and disbelief, and then up at Kimmie. With a shaking hand, he reached up and yanked the blade from his flesh. Blood spurted from the wound like a fountain.
Behind me, someone screamed.
And somewhere in the house, the blare of an alarm sounded.
Chapter Twenty-two
I stood, frozen, as shrill ringing filled my ears.
I had been hoping I’d get away with the glass not being alarmed, but it appeared I was wrong. The big glass structure I’d spotted from the road was the covering for an expensive-looking indoor swimming pool. Green foliage of lush, thick-leaved plants were positioned in pots in every corner—big enough for me to hide behind, if needed. Even though it was dark, moonlight slatted in through the intact glass panels above, glinting on the clear surface of the water.
There was no possibility that the alarm hadn’t been heard. Its racket filled my ears, and I resisted the urge to cover them with my hands to block out the noise. But my hands were already occupied. I kept the gun gripped tightly, prepared to shoot at the first sign of movement. So far, the pool area remained empty, but I doubted I’d be alone for long. Torres’s men would be coming, and I needed to be ready for them when they arrived.
Moving quickly and quietly, I skirted the edge of the pool, heading toward a doorway which I assumed led on to the main part of the house. Where would Catalina be? I didn’t even want to consider the possibility that she wasn’t here at all and all of this would be for nothing. If I allowed doubt to creep into my mind, it could be deadly. Still, no one had made an appearance, and the racket from the alarm was masking any sound of people approaching. While that didn’t help me in finding Catalina, it covered my tracks as well.
I stepped into a wide, white painted hallway. Farther ahead, doors were positioned on either side. Keeping my back to the wall, the gun gripped tightly in my hand, I edged my way along the corridor. To my right, one of the doors stood open.
I paused, feeling uneasy.
Where the fuck was everyone? Of all the situations I’d envisaged, not immediately being accosted by Torres’s men hadn’t been one of them. Was this some kind of trap? There was no way they hadn’t heard the alarm, and I assumed the security system was smart enough to pinpoint the exact location of the breach.
The open doorway drew me.
Sensing something wasn’t quite right, I moved to the opposite side, so the open door was directly ahead of me, shielding me from whatever was behind it. I kept going, my back flush to the wall. I reached the door and paused, bracing myself for attack. When none came, I held the gun up to protect myself and then darted around the door. Instead of attack, I was faced with a set of stairs leading down to yet another corridor, this one made up of bare breezeblocks and lit by florescent bulbs.
I hesitated again, doubting myself. This could be a trap. But then again, it could also be where Catalina was being held and, if I didn’t check, I would have walked right past her.
Fuck it.
I ran down the steps and along the corridor. I was beneath the house now, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. My heart thumped hard in my chest, my mouth running dry. Something was telling me that this was where I’d find Catalina.
At the end of the corridor, I reached a second door. I thought it would be locked, but it opened easily, and I peered into the space beyond.
Four single beds were in the room, two with the heads against one wall, and the other two beds positioned opposite. A couple of posters of landscapes were hung from the wall, and women’s clothes were scattered across the floor and draped mainly over one of the beds. But the room was empty of people. Even though I was certain this was where Torres had been keeping Catalina, and some other girls as well, no one was here now.
A second door led onto a bathroom. I crossed the room and checked inside, making sure Catalina wasn’t hurt or tied up, or unconscious and unable to call for help. But just like the main part of the room, the space was empty.
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br /> Spinning on my heels, I ran back the way I’d come. The alarms were still sounding, my ears ringing from them.
Could Catalina have been moved? Had Torres taken her somewhere else for the night, and I’d picked the worst possible time to attempt to rescue her? I didn’t think he’d leave the house completely unguarded, however. Even if Catalina wasn’t here, it didn’t explain why I hadn’t seen anyone.
I took the stairs two at a time and was about to reach the top when a man ran past.
I didn’t hesitate. Taking the remaining steps, I crept back into the corridor, moving up behind the man. He was armed, pointing his gun in the direction I’d come. His shirt was speckled with what appeared to be blood splatter, and my stomach dropped at the sight. What the fuck was going on? I hadn’t been the one to cause the blood. In-house fighting, perhaps? I prayed the blood didn’t belong to Catalina or any of the other women Torres must have locked up here.
The sound of the alarms hid my progress. The man didn’t even know I was there until I wrapped my arm around his throat from behind and jammed the muzzle of my gun to his temple. Aware of the mistake he’d made by not being cautious of what was behind him, and not planning on doing the same, I spun both of us around, facing the way he’d just come.
I had to raise my voice, practically shouting to make myself heard. “Drop the gun.”
He let the weapon fall from his fingers, and it clattered to the floor.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my mouth close to his ear.
“Bartow,” he spluttered.
“You know Catalina?”
He nodded best he could with my arm around his throat. “Yeah, yeah. I know her.”
“Where is she?”
He jerked his head forward. “In the dining room. With the others.”
My heart soared at the knowledge she was close. “What others? How many are there?”
Damaged for Him Page 14
