by Nicole Casey
“Stay here,” I told her, then strode to the closet across the room. It wasn’t a typical closet. Sure, there was Armani and Dior Homme hanging neatly in there. They just happened to be hanging neatly beside Berettas, Glocks, Sigs and high carbon, stainless steel tactical knives. And there was also a wall full of monitors that would tell me precisely who’d been stupid enough to get close to my property.
Thirty seconds later, I watched as a gunmetal grey Mercedes pulled up to the outer gate. The side windows were tinted, but the position of the cameras allowed me to zoom in on the front windshield. The man in the driver’s seat was a nobody—I’d never seen him before, nor was he likely anything more than a well-paid driver. The man who sat next to him was likely no more important. I zoomed in further until the camera lens let me see past them to the man reclining comfortably in the back seat.
Fuck. That man was not a nobody. That was Mateo Lopez. I’d seen him meet with Marcos on more than one occasion. An associate—Marcos had told me, though he would never tell me anything further. But if he was nothing more than an associate, there would be no reason for him to be here. On my property. He would have had no idea how to find me, nor any reason to try.
Marcos’ minions had done a passable job filling in for their missing leader—until that leader could be found, of course—and it was well-known I had my hands full with his little escape artist at the moment. No business would have been directed my way, and certainly not here, and mere days after my arriving.
That left only one option, and I didn’t like it one fucking bit. This man had never been one of Marcos’ associates like he’d said. That was a ploy, probably to keep this man out of the line of fire from rivals. Because this was Marcos’ boss.
Was he here for revenge? No, if he knew I’d killed Marcos, he would have sent his own goons after me. He wouldn’t be making a house-call with anything more than his driver and one guard for protection. That meant he was stepping in where Marcos had left off, and possibly looking for information. Though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep an eye on the driver and the guard, just in case.
I wanted to ignore the buzz that was now sounding from the front gate’s intercom, but a man that high up on the food chain wouldn’t have made the trip unless he knew I was here. So, ignoring it was only going to raise suspicions. There was only one route available to me. One very particular route. And it fucking sucked.
I pressed the button to let them in, tucked a Glock in the back waist of my pants, secured a Beretta in its holster around my ankle and double-timed it back to Scar.
I didn’t want to do this to her. Fuck, I wasn’t even sure if she could handle it, but the only other option meant putting us back on the run. I couldn’t do that to her.
In the bedroom, I found her in the exact position I’d left her, but one surreptitious glance up through her lashes and the expression on her face changed. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do this to her. Thank fuck for the clothes I’d picked up on the drive here.
“Scar, you need to listen and do exactly what I say. Put on the black nightgown,”—it was the most coverage I could offer her—“kneel at the end of the bed. Don’t use the pillow. Keep your head down no matter what unless you’re told otherwise.”
“What’s…what’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear as she hastened to do what I’d said.
I didn’t even have time to explain it to her. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, Master,” she said and nodded without hesitation.
My heart soared and sunk at the same time. She trusted me without equivocation…but once again I’d led her right into this.
“I’ll die before I let anyone hurt you. Understand?” It was the only assurance I could offer her.
She nodded.
I strode to the door, but I couldn’t stop myself from turning back once I reached it. “I’m so sorry, Scar,” I whispered.
She heard me. I could tell by the way her shoulder muscles tensed, but she didn’t move from her position at the end of the bed.
Fuck, I wanted nothing more than to grab her and make a run for it. Instead, I walked out of the room, closed the door behind me and smoothed my features into an unreadable expression. With any luck, I’d have them out of here without ever laying eyes on Scar—though I’d learned well that luck was a cruel son of a bitch and wasn’t counting on it to lend me a hand.
Down the stairs and across the foyer, I paused for one last calming breath. I was used to dealing with evil fuckers. Hell, I was one too—this was nothing more than an encounter with my own kind. Stay calm and cool, show no fear, and be prepared for anything. I touched my fingers to the steel at my back. Yes, I was ready. I was ready to do whatever I had to do to keep Scar safe.
I disengaged the security on the door and opened it to the two men standing there. The driver had stayed in the car—not surprising, but it meant I’d be re-engaging the system the second these two stepped inside.
“Good afternoon, Mateo,” I greeted the one I knew to be in charge and nodded to the other man. There was no need to feign surprise over their appearance here—they would already know I’d seen them on the security cameras.
“Good afternoon, Derek. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?”
I let him take the upper hand in the handshake that ensued. If it appeared I had already been well aware of his supposed superior position, it would give the impression Marcos had confided in me more than he really had.
“Can I offer you a drink? I’ve only recently returned, so there isn’t much more I can offer you, I’m afraid.”
“A drink would be wonderful.”
I stood back and let them in as prickles rose at the back of my neck more with every step they took that put them closer to Scar. Outwardly though, we looked like amicable acquaintances.
I closed the door and re-engaged the security system, then strolled toward the bar at the wall across the room without a backward glance. I wanted to watch them like hawks, but that wouldn’t appear very cordial. At the bar, I poured three drinks, offering one to Mateo, and leaving the other on the bar for his lackey to retrieve on his own.
“I assume you’ve been concerned about Marcos’ disappearance,” I said since there was no point in beating around the bush.
“Yes, quite concerned.”
I motioned for Mateo to have a seat and took the one opposite him once he was seated.
“I assumed at first it was James Garcia who had ambushed him. As I’m sure you’ve heard, he was the man who took Marcos’ slave. But I don’t believe it was him.” It would be a tidy story to say that James Garcia—aka James Donovan—had been responsible for it all, but I didn’t want Mateo to have any more reason to dig into Donovan’s—and by association, Scarlett’s—life. It would be best if he turned his efforts elsewhere.
“I’m inclined to agree with you. Speaking of the slave though, I would like to see her. I understand you reclaimed her successfully.”
Fuck. There was no good, god damned reason he needed to see her, but there was also no plausible excuse to keep him the hell away from her.
“Of course, though I must insist she remains where she is. My pet is learning the importance of staying put.”
It was the best I could do. If she was in the midst of a punishment, it was less likely Mateo would do anything that would interfere with her current master’s course of action.
“I understand, and I commend your dedication, Derek. Marcos spoke often of your diligence to your work and your applaudable success.”
Inwardly I cringed, knowing the man was right. I’d been damn good at what I did. Since Scar though, that had become my shame, not my glory. I’d been a monster—a damn good one.
Mateo stood and I followed suit, leading the way to the stairs and then the bedroom where the only person in the world that mattered was kneeling there, probably terrified. What I really wanted to do was put a bullet in this fucker’s brain. My fingers itched to feel the cool stee
l of my Glock, to squeeze the trigger and watch as every worthless drop of life drained out of him. I might have felt guilty as fuck for the innocents I’d hurt, but men like Mateo deserved every bit of evil I was capable of inflicting.
Instead, I kept one hand relaxed at my side and opened the door with the other while every fiber of my being railed against letting Mateo anywhere near Scar.
I had no choice, but I knew right then I had limits. I could only let this go so far. If he tried to hurt her, I was going to rip him apart with my bare hands. And make no mistake, I was still a monster because I was going to enjoy every second of it.
5
Scarlett
Two pairs of shoes—no, three. I recognized Derek’s Armani shoes, but the others were unfamiliar. One pair next to Derek’s, the other a few steps back.
Pure terror flooded my veins—it was ice cold and made me want to escape my skin. I was in the dungeon again; two sets of shoes—two monsters. I could hear the crack of the whip. I could feel my tormentor deep inside me, tearing me apart. My whole body shook so hard it made my teeth chatter.
I focused on Derek’s shoes—he was here too—and tried to remember what he’d said. Except, he hadn’t said anything—nothing that explained why there were two men here, why he’d told me to dress in a flimsy nightgown and kneel at the end of the bed.
‘Do you trust me?’—that’s what he’d said. I’d said yes, and now I was facing the biggest test of that I could imagine. But this wasn’t a test. Derek hadn’t arranged this. Someone had found us. But then, why weren’t we running? I wanted to scream, to run, to jump out the window if I had to, but he’d said to stay here and keep my head down no matter what.
Derek’s shoes and the other man’s were right in front of me. They’d been talking, but what had they said? Something about runaway…and punishment.
No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.
I needed to calm down. My breathing was coming too fast—I was certain they could see the rapid rise and fall of my chest—and I wasn’t going to be able to hear anything else they said over the pounding of my heart.
One pair of unfamiliar shoes walked around me. He stopped somewhere behind me and I swallowed back the sob rising in my chest. Trust Derek—I had to trust him or I was going to fall apart.
“Oh my, Derek, I see you’ve gone to great extents to discipline this one. If you’re this thorough with all your slaves, I can well-understand your success with them,” the man behind me spoke, and then his fingers grazed across my back, tracing one of the fading wounds.
I couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down my cheek, and I would have lost it if Derek hadn’t chosen that moment to lift my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. A whole conversation passed through that one look. I didn’t even know a person’s eyes could say so much. “Trust. Obey. And I don’t want this either,” his eyes said.
I would trust him, and I would obey because I could see how much this seemed to be hurting him, too, and if he was doing it anyways, that meant this was important. But still, I couldn’t stop the tears. He nodded for me to lower my head, and they trickled down and dripped onto the nightgown.
“Yes, well, it hardly seemed like enough given the crime, but it appears to have made her understand her place, hasn’t it, Pet?”
“Y-yes, Master,” I forced the words out.
“She still seems rather…emotional, does she not?”
“I think anyone would after ten hours of kneeling in one place. I imagine she’s quite uncomfortable at this point, and with two hours still to go, I don’t think it will be getting better with time.” Derek chuckled. It sounded almost completely natural like it wasn’t an act at all. “But you won’t make a mess on my carpet no matter how badly you need to piss, will you?”
“No, Master.”
“And why not?”
“Because it would displease you, Master,” I replied, hoping I was answering correctly. I’d say whatever he wanted me to if it meant the strange men in the room would leave.
The man behind me chuckled, a dark and sinister sound. “Very…inventive, Derek. I see you have things well under control. I’m tempted to come back for her myself when you’re finished with her. I’ve begun to tire of my own crop. Perhaps it’s time for something new.”
“She’s not quite ready, obviously, but when she is, I’m sure you’d be pleased with her,” Derek replied without missing a beat.
If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed him. And even knowing he was acting, the thought of ever finding myself alone with that man made my heat pound so hard I’d swear it was visible through the nightgown. Every wound on my back flared to life when I thought about what this man would do to me, as if the lashes were brand new and he was standing behind me with a whip in hand. My stomach roiled violently. I was going to be sick. If I didn’t find some way to calm down, I was going to throw up right in front of them. What would Derek be forced to do to me to keep up the act then?
Quiet, deep breaths, as I willed my mind to go blank. To think about nothing but Derek’s black, patent leather Oxford shoes. And four breaths later, the three of them left the room.
The second the door closed, the sob that had been trapped in my chest threatened to escape, but I held it back. I couldn’t make a sound and risk drawing them back here. More deep breaths. With no shoes left to focus on, I turned my attention to the carpet itself.
Moments passed, but I didn’t move from the place Derek told me to stay. I waited for the door to open with bated breath. Would he be alone the next time it opened? Would those men still be with him? I couldn’t think about it, so I focused on the carpet. The deep, navy blue that created a flawless surface—there wasn’t a single strand out of place that I could see.
There was no other carpet in the house, only in this room. Everywhere else, there was hardwood and marble, but this room’s floor was plush and soft. I wondered why. If he liked hardwood and marble so much, why hadn’t he had that installed in his bedroom? Or, if he liked carpet so much, why hadn’t he had it installed elsewhere in the house?
The door flew open, but I didn’t stop looking at the carpet, watching the familiar leather shoes tread across it without leaving a single depression.
“Why is there carpet only in this room, Master?” The ridiculous question tumbled out before I could stop it.
He stopped several steps away. “Look at me, Pet,” he said. His tone was harsh, but I didn’t think he was angry with me.
I looked up obediently and met his gaze, but there was no silent conversation this time. In the blink of an eye, I was no longer on the floor. I was in his arms, wrapped so tight I could tell he needed to hold on as much as I needed to be held. The sob that I’d kept trapped in my chest struggled free and escaped, but safe in Derek’s arms, it had lost some of its intensity.
I even became aware of a new feeling inside me. Pride. As terrified as I’d been, I’d done it. How many other women who’d been through what I had could have done what I did? How many of them would have been strong enough to trust another person as much as I’d just trusted Derek?
I was getting better. I was healing. I had known what I’d needed, and I’d been right.
“It’s OK. I’m OK,” I tried to reassure him, meeting his gaze as he lowered my feet back to the ground. And while some of the tension seemed to leave him, much of it didn’t. Something else was wrong—no doubt, something to do with those men. “What’s going on?”
“That man’s name is Mateo Lopez. Marcos had met with him several times before, but I didn’t know who he was until today. Scar, he was Marcos’ boss, and he knows. He didn’t come out and say it, but he knows I killed Marcos. I didn’t think so at first, but I’m sure now.”
Guilt and fear rained down in equal measures. I was the reason Marcos was dead. Derek had killed him for me. And if that man knew it, we weren’t safe. But then…
“Why did he come here?” Shouldn’t that man have wanted to kill us?
�
��He came here to toy with me and draw me into a trap,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if we were talking about the weather.
The significance of what he said wasn’t lost on me and I swayed on my feet. If Derek’s arms hadn’t still been around me, I would have fallen on my ass.
It wasn’t over. There were still people who wanted us dead. Well, they would want Derek dead. God only knew what they’d do to me.
No, I wasn’t going to let that happen. Not again. If they caught me, I’d find some way to end my life long before they had the chance to turn me into a beaten and broken whore. Maybe Derek was right, and any woman’s body would have responded the same way mine had. That didn’t change the fact mine had betrayed me in the worst way, and I wouldn’t give it the opportunity to do it again.
“What are we going to do?” I asked bluntly. I needed to know the plan so I could also be making arrangements for my own plan if the need arose. I would do whatever he needed me to do. I would do whatever it took to keep Derek alive, just like I knew he would do for me. But I wasn’t naïve and foolish anymore. There were things worse than death, and so long as it didn’t interfere with keeping him alive, I wasn’t going to experience those things ever again.
“You’re not going to do anything, Scar. This is my mess to clean up, not yours.”
He wanted me to do nothing? “I don’t think so,” I said flatly. “You can’t expect me to sit idly by while you get yourself killed. Even if I was fine with that—which I’m not—what do you think is going to happen to me once you’re dead? Do you think they’ll just let me go on my merry way?”
“No, but you’ll be thousands of miles away in case anything goes wrong. I’ve kept myself alive for a long time. I have no intention of stopping. Not now that you’re…” His words trailed off.
