Red Hot Santa

by Cherry Adair

  Juan paused a half-beat. “Gracias, Señora Catalina. I’m initiating several projects in the areas of agriculture exports and manufacturing. Allow me to introduce my dinner companion, Miss Hilary Winfree.”

  Well done, she thought and waited expectantly.

  “Greetings, Señorita,” the señora said simply, then turned back to Juan. “We have several foreign visitors tonight who are looking forward to meeting you. . . . “

  Hilary finally got it. She was supposed to be a nobody. An un-person. She could do that. She wondered how she could get the opportunity to explore the house. She wondered what Juan planned to do.

  “Señorita.”

  The señora’s sharp voice pulled her back. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You were not paying attention. You must pay attention to my every word and to every word of Señor Castillo.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said, getting the willies from the way the woman looked at her.

  “We will repeat the introduction again,” Señora Catalina said. “I do not like to repeat myself more than once. I will use other teaching methods if necessary.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Hilary said, and swallowed a sigh as she and Juan returned outside the door.

  “Focus,” Juan whispered.

  “It’s so boring,” she whispered.

  “Trust me,” he said. “You want it to stay boring.”

  Her stomach twisted at the expression on his face and she watched him knock on the door.

  Hilary finally passed the introduction test and Señora Catalina moved onto new skills. “I will teach Señor Castillo a series of hand motions that he may use in public or private to communicate to you. For example, if you wish Señorita to remain quietly behind you, do this,” she said and made a hand motion. “If you wish her to stand beside you, do this,” she continued, making another motion. “And if you wish her to speak, do this,” she said, making yet another hand motion. “And if you wish her to go to her quarters, do this,” she said and made another hand motion.

  Hilary stared at the woman in amazement. “Isn’t that how dogs are trained? With hand motions?”

  Señora smiled, but it seemed an evil-looking expression to Hilary. “Yes. Hand signals provide effective communication with canines. But I did not give you permission to speak. Go stand in the corner for five minutes.”

  Hilary gasped. She’d never been sent to the corner. She remembered a quiet chair used for discipline in her elementary school, but she’d never been sent there. She almost argued, but Juan moved into her field of vision and shot her a gaze that told her to obey.

  Mentally grumbling, she went to the nearest corner.

  “Not that corner,” Señora said and pointed to another. “This one.”

  Hilary endured the five minutes as she tried to catch every word of the conversation Señora and Juan were holding on the other side of the room. She wondered if Christine had been put through this training and felt sickened at the thought. Impulsive Christine may well have voiced her opinion and refusal.

  Hilary couldn’t help feeling they were wasting time. One of them should be searching the house. Juan clearly felt he needed to baby-sit her, so she had to do it.

  “Class resumes,” Señora said. “You may return, Señorita.”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I use the restroom?” Hilary asked in the most submissive voice she could muster.

  “Later,” Señora said. “You will go at the appointed time. Back to the hand signals.”

  Hilary glanced at Juan, but he just shook his head. Feeling like Spot the wonder dog, she aced the hand signals and shifted from foot-to-foot in a giant hint.

  “Perhaps it would be best if Miss Winfree used the restroom,” Juan finally said.

  “We can train her so that she goes on command,” Señora offered.

  “Perhaps later. That’s not my current priority.”

  “As you wish,” Señora said in a voice full of disapproval. She glanced at Hilary. “You may use the restroom. Turn left. It is the second door on your right.”

  Hilary walked out of the room and turned left. The stairs called to her. Señora was wasting their time. Someone had to do something. She couldn’t stand the waiting. Juan would kill her, but she had to try. Instead of going to the restroom, she took off her heels and crept upstairs.

  Chapter Five

  HER HEART RACING AND HER HANDS GROWING MORE clammy by the second, Hilary pressed her ear against a door and heard nothing. She tiptoed to the next door and listened again.

  The muffled sound of weeping wrenched at her. She looked from side to side and knocked gently on the door. The sound stopped. “Christine?” she said.

  No response.

  “Christine,” she repeated, just a bit louder.

  A long paused followed. “I’m not Christine. They took her away.”

  Hilary felt a crashing rush of excitement and fear. This person had heard of Christine. She may have even met her. “I’m a friend of Christine’s. Open the door.”

  “I can’t. It’s locked.”

  Hilary swore. She felt at the top of the door for a key, but couldn’t find one. “Where did they take Christine?”

  “I overheard them say something about driving out of the country through Mexico. The guy who took her looked mean.”

  Hilary’s heart sank. “How long ago?”

  “Yesterday. Or the day before. Please help me. I’ll do anything to get away from these people. Anything.”

  The woman’s pleading voice stabbed at her. How could she leave this woman here? How could she leave anyone here? She heard a noise downstairs and stepped into her shoes. “I’ll try to leave you something. Check the downstairs bathroom,” she said and rushed downstairs.

  Halfway down the woman in the white dress greeted her. “What are you doing upstairs?”

  “I couldn’t find the bathroom. I got confused.”

  The woman looked suspicious. “I will escort you to the restroom,” she said. “This way.”

  Christine followed the woman to the restroom and looked for a place to hide something in the spare windowless room. She looked up at the ceiling and saw a small dark circle. Was that a camera? She turned out the light and crammed the money that Juan had allowed her to have inside the extra roll of toilet paper placed on top of the toilet. She wished she had a small plastic explosive. While Juan probably carried around that kind of stuff in his back pocket, the closest thing to a weapon that she’d ever had was a dictionary heavy enough to break toes.

  She stepped outside the restroom and found the woman in white, Señora Catalina, and Juan waiting outside the door.

  “You went upstairs, Señorita,” Señora said, shaking her head. Her dark eyes were venomous. “That was very bad. Come back to class.”

  “Señora Catalina, I’ll repeat. I don’t want her damaged,” Juan said. “Marked merchandise would not be attractive at my public gatherings.”

  “This is a matter of security,” Señora said, and closed the door. A second passed and Hilary felt herself pulled into a death grip by Señora Catalina. “Why did you go upstairs? What were you looking for?” the woman demanded and jerked her hair.

  Her eyes watered at the sensation of her hair being pulled hard. “The bathroom,” Hilary insisted, although every ounce of air was being squeezed from her lungs. “I got confused. I have a terrible sense of direction when I panic, and I’m scared because I keep messing up. I was afraid to ask and I really needed to go. I tried to pull open the doors and they were locked.”

  “Señora,” Juan said, clearly growing impatient.

  The woman’s grip loosened a millimeter, but Hilary still couldn’t breathe. “Señorita,” she said as she stroked Hilary’s back. “You must understand that if you do not obey, you could be hurt. There is a place on your back where your kidneys are. You can be beaten there, but the marks won’t show when you put on your clothes.”

  Hilary swallowed.

  “You must understand that if you disobey you will not
be the only one hurt. Your parents. We know where they are. We know how to find them.” The woman dug her fingernails into Hilary’s lower back. “I’m not sure you understand. I think we will need to use the bracelets and—”

  “Señora Catalina,” Juan said, cutting in abruptly. He spoke from behind Hilary so she couldn’t see his face. All she could see was the blank wall and Señora’s arm wrapped around her. “Bring me the bracelets,” he said.

  Señora Catalina loosened her grip enough for Hilary to catch a breath. “Bring them to you?”

  “Yes, me,” Juan said. “Miss Winfree is my property. I’ll handle this.”

  A long pause followed. Seconds ticked past. She felt reluctance ooze from Señora Catalina as the woman swore under her breath. Señora dragged her toward a trunk. Jerked sharply, she craned for a glimpse of Juan.

  His face tight with anger, he shot her a quelling glance. He moved across the floor in three swift strides and in a flash, he opened the trunk and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Release her,” he said in a deathly quiet voice to Señora.

  Señora Catalina looked at him curiously. “I thought you wanted my guidance.”

  “I did, but her disobedience embarrasses me. Her correction is a matter of honor.” He closed the handcuffs over Hilary’s wrists.

  Señora Catalina immediately released her. Juan pulled her face to his, his expression furious. Hilary’s heart pounded in her chest.

  “You will never disobey me again,” he said and gave her a firm shake. “Do you understand me?”

  A lump of fear formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking. She searched his eyes and if his gaze could talk, it would have said, Trust me.

  This was an act, she realized. A show.

  “You are never to embarrass me,” he told her in a voice completely at war with the expression in his eyes. “I have bought and paid for you. I can do whatever I want with you.” He slid one of his hands through her hair. “I can take you any way, anytime I want. I can beat you. I’ve paid for your life.” He lowered his mouth just a breath away from hers. “I can take it away.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “On your knees,” he muttered.

  Hilary gaped at him. “What?”

  “Get on your knees,” he told her.

  Every feminist urge inside her screamed in protest. The impulse to tell him to go to hell was so strong she could barely resist.

  “Do you really want to disobey again?” he asked, arching his brow.

  Exhaling on a long, uneven breath, Hilary sank to her knees. Juan had a reason for this behavior, she told herself. He was clearly trying to accomplish something for the benefit of Señora Catalina. If she hadn’t gotten caught going upstairs, she wouldn’t be in this position.

  “What do you have to say, Hilary?”

  She swallowed her pride. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head as if in shame. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought.

  “What do you have to say to Señora Catalina?” he prodded.

  Her mouth filled with bitter distaste. “I’m sorry, Señora Catalina.”

  “And will you ever disobey again?”

  “No, Mr. Castillo.”

  “Master Castillo,” Señora Catalina interjected. “Address him as your master.”

  The order grated on her. She took a deep breath and told herself it didn’t mean anything. Not a thing. “Master,” she said.

  “You can get up,” Juan said.

  “I’m not convinced this silly girl won’t disobey you again,” Señora Catalina said.

  “I’m not averse to some insurance,” Juan said casually. “Give me the whip. I’ll take it with me. Thank you for the extra training, Señora Catalina,” he said.

  “My pleasure, and please don’t hesitate to request more lessons in this area. It’s my specialty,” she said, her gaze holding blatant invitation.

  This woman was too crazy for Hilary. She cleared her throat and Juan looked at her. She eyed the doorway.

  “I think we’ve had enough training today. Miss Winfree, go use the restroom while I chat with Señora before we leave.”

  “Don’t get lost,” the Señora warned.

  Rick promised himself antacid and ibuprofin the second he got into the limo. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Hilary had gone sneaking around the house. He’d known bringing her in would be a risk. He’d just hoped Hilary would be able to reign in her impulses during their brief visit. He’d known Señora was going to punish someone. He could see it coming when Señora had shown him the contents of one of the boxes—whips, brass knuckles, handcuffs, and other toys designed to cause pain and humiliation. Hilary’s curiosity had forced him into taking control.

  His request had been a calculated risk intended to divert the woman’s attention from hurting Hilary, and it had worked. “Thank you again, Señora Catalina. I can see why Mr. Harris calls you a miracle worker.”

  She smiled at the flattery. “My pleasure. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “I mentioned that I’d be interested in acquiring another employee. Can you think of anyone who might fit the description I gave you?”

  Señora sat down in her chair and rubbed her lip thoughtfully. “We just placed a girl who sounds like she would have fit your description, although I’m not certain it’s going to be a good fit. She had problems with training.” She sighed. “I could call the client and see if he’s happy with her.”

  “Por favor,” he said, and sat in the chair.

  She moved the mouse on her computer and dialed the phone. “This is Señora Catalina. I’m calling regarding your recent acquisition. Are you satisfied with your choice?”

  A man’s loud angry voice carried beyond the phone. Señora pulled the receiver away from her ear.

  Her eyes narrowed. “If you had trouble controlling her before you left the country, you were instructed to contact me.”

  More screaming followed.

  “You have caused a very unfortunate situation. Mr. Harris will be in contact with you soon. And no, we won’t replace her,” she said, returning the receiver to the cradle. She gave a soft sigh. “I regret I won’t be able to assist you with your request. It appears the woman I had in mind is lost somewhere in the desert before the Mexican border.” She swore in Spanish.

  “Lost?” Rick echoed.

  “The client was unhappy with her. He took measures,” she said.

  Translated, he’d beaten her. Rick’s gut twisted. “That is unfortunate.”

  Señora shrugged. “Mr. Harris will handle it. He always does.”

  “If you should come across another,” Rick ventured because he wasn’t supposed to be shocked. He wasn’t supposed to feel an ugly sense of dread.

  “By all means, we’ll contact you,” she said, and stood. “It’s been a pleasure, Señor Castillo.”

  “I was thinking of leaving the country via Mexico. Do you have a recommended route?”

  “Yes, we do,” she said, and pulled out a map with three highlighted routes. “Three actually, and they’re color coded. You may choose which you prefer; however, I recommend you avoid the green route as the authorities may show up there due to this latest unfortunate incident.”

  Green it would be, he thought. “Gracias.”

  Hilary followed Juan to the car and scooted inside. He followed her and closed the door, his jaw stiff.

  She felt strange about the whole experience inside Señora Catalina’s house. Kneeling and asking forgiveness weren’t her style. Neither was putting on an act, and Hilary knew she wouldn’t have lasted fifteen minutes with Señora if Juan hadn’t been there and if she hadn’t trusted him. For a forbidden moment, she wondered what else she would have been willing to do if Juan had requested it of her. What else would she do now? The electricity that raced through her confused her. “Was the kneeling really necessary? And can we get rid of these handcuffs?” she asked, lifting her hands.

  “In a minute,” he said. “Was the kneeling n
ecessary? Since you could have gotten us both killed by going exploring, yes,” he said, and swore under his breath. “You jeopardized your life, mine, and our chance to find Christine.”

  Guilt rushed through her. “I’m sorry if I messed up the plan,” she said. “We weren’t getting anywhere with Señora.” She shuddered. “She’s the scariest woman I’ve met in my entire life.”

  She watched Juan shrug out of his jacket. “The objective was to build a little rapport so she would take an interest in helping me find another woman I could buy. Christine,” he added.

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, but I did find—”

  “Follow the route highlighted in green,” he said as he gave a map to Jensen.

  Hilary frowned in confusion. “Where are we going? I got some information about Christine,” she told him. “I talked to a girl upstairs. I couldn’t unlock her door, so I had to talk through the door and she told me Christine had been taken away yesterday or the day before by someone who looked very mean. This could be bad if we don’t find her.”

  He nodded. “It could be bad if we do,” he said.

  Her stomach tightened at his black tone. “What do you mean?”

  He met her gaze and sighed. “I mean Señora Catalina gave me information that led me to believe that Christine has already been injured.”

  “What did she say? What did she tell you?”

  “Turns out the guy who acquired Christine wasn’t happy with her.”

  “Did she run away?”

  He took her hands and unlocked the handcuffs. “I can’t pretty this up for you, Hilary. You need to be prepared. He beat her up and dumped her on the road.”

  Hilary gasped, a wave of nausea rolling over her. “Oh my God. No.”

  He nodded. “It’s time to call the authorities,” he said, and dialed Roz. “Hey, beautiful, Rick here,” he said when she answered the phone.

  “Rick,” Hilary muttered. “I never guessed Rick.”

  “Beautiful,” Roz echoed. “How many rules have you broken this time, Chameleon? You’ve missed the mandatory check-ins. I almost sent someone after you.”