by Cassie Ryan
There was very limited information other than Diego’s first name, but Brent was sure Dex could find the restraining order and go from there. He nodded, grateful for any help or information his friend could offer.
Dex tucked the note in his pocket. “Oh, and Brent. Try to get some sleep. You look like crap.”
Brent laughed. Dex didn’t sugarcoat, and Brent had always liked that about him. It was something they had in common.
Chapter 8
Light speared Sandra in the face and she winced away from it, trying to burrow under the covers. But her restless night had hopelessly tangled her sheets. When she couldn’t find her pillow either, she settled for draping her arm over her eyes to block out the stripes of bright light that streamed in through the blinds.
Her cell buzzed on the nightstand and she reached for it automatically. She started to click it over to voicemail since she didn’t recognize the number, but she’d been doing that for the past few hours, and whoever was calling kept calling back.
She had nearly answered at six a.m., thinking for some odd reason it might be Brent calling from a different number than the one he’d given her last night, but the area code wasn’t right. From the area code flashing on the screen it was someone in New York. But anyone she would want to talk to right now she had programmed into her phone, so his or her name would come up on her display, not just a generic-looking number.
Yet since whoever was calling had been insistent, it might be important, so she finally gave in, huffed, and answered. “Hello?”
“It’s about time, Sandra,” a too-familiar growl carried across the line.
Her blood iced over and she sat up so fast that her head swam.
Diego.
He’d called her from a different number and she’d fallen for it. She’d let her guard down after last night, thinking she would never feel so helpless and alone again. She’d let herself forget about him for a while. Did he know where she’d gone? And if so was he already here?
She took a deep breath, trying to think calmly even as her heart raced and she broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn’t get her location just by calling her cell. At least she didn’t think he could.
“I did not give you permission to go anywhere, Sandra. You’ll be severely punished. And I expect you to meet me at the dungeon at seven tonight.”
It took her a minute to realize he meant the dungeon in New York, not Club Desire. Yet even with the knowledge that he was still most likely in New York, bile inched its way up the back of her throat until she thought she would vomit.
He’d made her live in fear for the last few months. But no more. This couldn’t go on.
She clenched her teeth and hung up.
She held her breath, her entire body tense until she scrolled through her call history and blocked that number. It wouldn’t keep him from calling her from another phone, but that one action made her feel at least a tiny bit more in control of her situation. She blew out her breath when her lungs protested, hoping some of the fear and helplessness would go with it.
She wished she had told him to go to hell. But the jangle of nerves inside her belly and the metallic taste of fear on the back of her tongue told her she hadn’t been ready for that kind of bravado yet.
She needed to find a job. Then she could afford to change her cell number. She would have to figure out how much it would cost so she could budget for it. That was a priority. Once it was changed, she would have to let everyone who mattered know her new number without telling them where she’d gone or why. Her old roommate knew, and the Doms from New York, but she wasn’t ready to retell the story to all the other people who might need to reach her.
One thing at a time.
She wasn’t sure how she would hide where she’d gone since any new number she got in Phoenix would most likely have the local area code, and she wasn’t sure if everyone would keep her number a secret, even if she asked. She would have to see if her cell service could change her number to one with an area code elsewhere…anywhere but here. There were national carriers, after all. There had to be a way, and she would find it. She just wasn’t sure if any of those on her so-called trusted list would either purposely or inadvertently share the new number with Diego.
A shudder ran through her, and she clenched her fingers into fists to fight the effects of that thought.
Until she had the number changed, she would only answer calls from people she knew. But she refused to live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, scared to death that Diego would find her again.
Sick dread pooled in her stomach like acid. Her head pounded, and her body shook as the sudden flood of adrenaline from her fear ran its course, leaving her hollowed out and weak.
When the phone vibrated again, she yelped and nearly dropped it. But after gulping in a few desperate breaths she saw Master Brent’s name flash across the screen, and she scrambled to answer it.
“Hello?” She hated that her voice sounded thin and scared, but she hadn’t had any time to recover and compose herself.
“Sandra, what’s wrong?” Brent’s deep voice brought back memories of last night and she longed for the confidence she’d dared to feel in his office.
“Sandra, answer me. What’s wrong?”
Both concern and command laced his voice, and it ripped her out of the pit of despair she’d fallen into. With too much whirling through her overtaxed brain, she settled for the first word that came to mind.
“Diego.”
“Is he there?” Brent’s voice was dagger sharp.
“No. He called me.” She gripped the phone like a lifeline as she spoke.
“I’m on my way.” The strength in his voice calmed her a little. Enough to battle back the bile inching its way up her throat. “Stay inside with the doors locked. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
—
Diego slammed down the phone and cursed, scaring the young woman at the counter who had let him use it despite the restaurant’s policy.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and then walked away, headed outside to rein in his temper. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t afford to bring attention to himself. As it was, if that woman or any of the patrons who were nearby were asked about him, his odd behavior would stand out.
He cursed again as he slid into his car and forced himself to pull the door shut behind him rather than slamming it.
How dare that bitch disappear? He hadn’t been able to find her anywhere in the last week. And thanks to her damn restraining order, no one at the dungeon would tell him where she’d gone, and her roommate wouldn’t talk. Not to mention the damn police had been shadowing him anytime he came close to the dungeon. But since Sandra had made herself scarce they’d started to let their guard down, and that was his opening.
He’d told her to meet him tonight at the dungeon to make her think she’d be safe with all the other Doms around who had tried to protect her from him before.
But he knew that if he could just get her to show up, he’d be able to grab her either on the way in or the way out. Both options would work for him…as long as she didn’t let anyone else touch her. That wasn’t allowed. He’d made it clear to her that he’d end her if she ever let that happen.
A slight miscalculation on his part, he had to admit. The day after he’d told her that, he’d been served with a restraining order and he’d run into a wall of both Doms and police who tried to keep him away from her.
But then she’d disappeared without a word, refusing to answer her phone or return any of his calls. Which was frustrating, since he had to keep calling from different numbers. He wasn’t stupid enough to use his cell or his home number to call and violate the damn restraining order, even though his current identity was just one of his many aliases.
He hadn’t used his real identity in about a decade now. But he didn’t want to give the cops any reason to dig into his past. There were too many things they might start wanting answers to.
Sandra could be lying lo
w staying with friends or hiding out at a hotel somewhere. Damn the bitch for doing this.
He owned her, body and soul. She might not know it yet, but she would. The weak were put on this earth to be preyed on by the strong. And he was definitely one of the strong. The fact that most of the so-called civilized world didn’t agree with him was their issue. He knew he should move on and find another woman, but Sandra was the first who had slipped through his grasp before he was done with her, and he wouldn’t allow that failure to taunt him.
No, he would find her. And she would pay.
—
Brent pulled up outside the small house Sandra shared with her friend from high school, Michelle. His senses were on high alert watching for anything threatening, especially the man who had terrorized Sandra.
It was in an older neighborhood, so there were lots of large trees and shrubs where someone could hide. He scanned the area around the house for anything or anyone out of place, but found nothing. Rather than breathing a sigh of relief, he tensed further. The fear in Sandra’s voice when he’d spoken to her had cut through him, and he swore he’d make her feel safe again.
Here in Phoenix. With him.
He shook his head, forcefully reminding himself that even though he was her Dom now, that might be where their connection ended. He would have to keep in mind whatever was for Sandra’s highest good regardless of his personal feelings. He made a silent promise to himself that he would.
After hanging up with Sandra, he’d immediately called Dex to update him. Even though Dex worked for the FBI, he also had several very good friends with the Phoenix Police Department. Brent wasn’t sure they’d be needed, but if Sandra had felt the need to file a restraining order against Diego in New York, the situation was bad enough that police might be needed.
And worst case, Phoenix PD could keep Brent from killing the guy.
He smiled grimly at the thought as he noted the thin frame door on the house and the several cutouts filled with glass that decorated the top half. He sighed and made a mental note to look at the safety and security of this place. The door cracked open and Sandra’s pale face appeared.
Brent could tell right away that she was still rattled, but she didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. He needed to get her away from here at least for a while. Somewhere to distance her from the emotions Diego’s call had caused. Then they could deal with how to make sure it wasn’t repeated. And beyond that, to ensure Diego would never find her again.
“Sandra. How are you doing?” He gently pushed the door farther open, which forced her to step back to let him in. She was shaking, so he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She immediately melted into his embrace.
She bit her bottom lip and then sucked in a breath before tipping her head back to look up at him. “I’m okay. I just need to get hold of myself. I’ll be fine.”
Her words were still shaky, but they showed at least a small hint of the confident woman he’d seen a spark of last night. Still, he knew even the strongest individuals could be shaken to the core.
“It’s all right.” He rubbed small circles over her back, basking in her warmth. He slowly guided her toward the couch and pulled her down next to him so he could tuck her against him.
Her eyes were glossy, showing him how close to tears she still was below the thin veneer of confidence she was working hard to show.
“Thank you for coming, Master Brent. I’m all right. Truly.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again and worried it for a few long seconds. “It caught me off guard. I’ve blocked the number he called from, but that won’t stop him from finding somewhere else to call from. I just won’t answer any numbers I don’t recognize.” Her voice ended on a combination of a small sob and a frustrated sigh.
Brent understood feeling powerless, and he hated that he saw that same knowledge in Sandra’s eyes. “You know, Dex holds a self-defense class on Monday nights down in Basement 4. No kink, only self-defense lessons, if you’re interested. I told the Doms, managers, and security staff about Diego so we can be on the lookout for him. But it might also make you feel better to know you can defend yourself if it’s ever needed.”
She tipped her face to look up at him and he could clearly see tearstains from where she’d been crying before he arrived. He took her face in his hands, gently feathering his thumbs over her soft cheeks before he lowered his lips to brush hers.
She needed tenderness and care right now, not arousal or sex. This might not be aftercare from playing a scene, but Brent had become very good at reading what people needed at any given moment. That had fueled not only his business success but also his success as a dungeon owner and a Dom. That attention to people’s needs had made him a popular Dom. But he’d had several subs who had finally left to find other Doms because he wouldn’t collar them. He cared for them, but he didn’t love them, and he wouldn’t offer his collar or his ring unless that emotion was involved.
Slowly, Sandra’s shaking lessened and then stopped. She laid her smaller hand over his, her palm cool to the touch rather than warm like it had been last night.
“Thanks for being here, Master Brent. I let my guard down after last night. It was stupid of me.” She met his gaze squarely even though her bottom lip wobbled, showing how hard she was trying to at least appear strong. It was a start.
He still needed to get her somewhere safer as soon as possible.
She cleared her throat. “I would be interested in Dex’s class if he has room.”
A wave of warmth filled him. She might be timid in some areas, but she was a fighter. Even if she didn’t realize it yet. “I’m sure he does. Let’s find out.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial for his friend. He pressed the speaker button as soon as it started to ring.
“Brent, buddy, what’s up?” came Dex’s booming voice over the phone line.
“Hey, Dex, you’re on speaker. I’m here with Sandra at her house in Glendale. She had an unexpected call from Diego this morning and she’s a little spooked. I told her about your self-defense class and she wants to see if you have any room left for her to join you.”
“Sandra, are you there, sweetheart?” Dex’s voice was gentle, but he still spoke to her as a strong Dom, showing he expected an answer.
Sandra turned toward the phone Brent still held in his hand. “I’m here, Master Dex.”
Brent was glad even more strength had returned to her voice.
“There’s always room for more in my classes. Monday night at six p.m. Wear something comfortable that you can move well in, like shorts or yoga pants.” The distant sounds of traffic in the background made Brent wonder where Dex was.
He spoke again, his deep voice filling the line and covering the background noise. “For the women, I usually tell them to wear sports bras if they have one. Try not to eat for three or four hours before class unless you need to. We do a lot of kicking, punching, and moving around, and being full isn’t a good combination with that. But several of us usually go grab dinner at the Irish pub down the street afterward. You’re welcome to join us.”
Sandra lifted her chin to meet Brent’s gaze. “I’d like that, Master Dex. I’ll see you Monday night. Thanks.”
“Take care, sweetheart. And don’t worry. Everything will be fine. We’ll take care of you. You’re one of ours now.”
“Thanks, Master Dex,” she said right before he hung up.
Brent took her chin between his fingers. “Now tell me about Diego’s call. Everything you remember, anything you might have heard in the background, any hunches you might have about where he is. Anything that sticks in your mind.”
As Sandra outlined the call and her assumption about Diego still being in New York, Brent catalogued details to tell Dex later. If he could get this guy on some type of watch list it would help. And if anyone had the connections to make that happen, it was Dex.
His friend had been in on several manhunts across the nation. High-profile ones the ge
neral public knew nothing about. Brent probably shouldn’t have been privy to them, but two years ago Dex had gotten into trouble and needed Brent’s help to get out, so Brent had not only helped, but had become a sounding board and confidant.
An attractive brunette with large blue eyes and a full figure came through the front door and stopped short when she saw him and Sandra on the couch.
Brent tensed waiting for any flicker of recognition on Michelle’s features, but as the seconds ticked by and there was no change in her expression, the muscles in his neck and shoulders slowly unknotted. He looked nothing like he had in high school, so wasn’t surprised she didn’t recognize him, but there was always that chance.
He needed to tell Sandra who he really was soon so she didn’t find out accidentally.
Sandra straightened, pulling away from him. “Michelle. This is M…Master Brent,” she said. She sounded flustered, as if Michelle had caught them naked on the rug instead of fully clothed on the couch. Brent wondered what was throwing her off about being caught with him. She’d called him “Master Brent” in front of Michelle, so he was reasonably confident Sandra had told her friend about Club Desire and the lifestyle.
Michelle raked a thorough gaze over Brent as if evaluating a horse she was about to buy. Brent had gotten used to women looking at him this way, but it was disconcerting that it was someone from high school. Someone who had definitely never looked at him like this back then.
Finally Michelle seemed to shake herself out of her detailed perusal. “Brent. Hello.” She came nearer and held out her hand. “I heard a lot about you last night after Sandra got home.” She flashed a smile.
Brent stood and took her offered hand. “Hello,” he said lamely instead of the normal “nice to meet you.” That would be an outright lie, since he’d already met her several years ago.
After a long moment of holding on to his hand, and an awkward silence settling over the room, Michelle transferred her intense gaze to Sandra. “Sandra, you’ve been crying. What happened?” Michelle dropped Brent’s hand and her too-friendly gaze turned into a glare aimed straight at him until Sandra’s voice broke through the tension.
