She must be rolling in and out of the past and present. He needed to ground her, bring her back, and keep her focused. "Breathe, Savita. Marisol is safe. They didn't get her. She's with Karla in Denver. They'll fly out here as soon as we give them the go-ahead."
Savannah slumped against the ottoman in relief and a new spate of tears trickled from her eyes. He reached out to unbuckle the strap around her waist. The welts the strap had made showed how hard his warrior woman had fought the restraint. Next he moved to her ankles, as Dad came over to release the ropes binding her wrists to the ottoman legs.
The discharge of a weapon sent Damián sprawling over Savannah's bleeding back to protect her just as Dad covered her head. Damián's calf burned like a motherfucker above the prosthesis. He'd probably irritated the stump with all this activity.
Savannah's father screamed. "Jesus Christ! I'm shot!"
Looking across the room at the bastard, Damián saw blood trickling from the bastard's thumb. A pansy-ass .22 lay on the floor beside him. Damián's attention turned to the doorway where he recognized Marc, still wearing his ski mask.
If Marc hadn't been there, there was no telling where the bastard's bullet might have landed. "Nice shot, man."
Marc shrugged. "Out of practice. I was aiming for his chest."
Again, they were off the plan with all the chatter, but Damián shook his head, glad Marc had their backs. At least he'd gotten the weapon out of the bastard's hand—and hadn't spoiled Damián plans for later. The worthless piece of shit needed to suffer longer than he would have if Marc had been a better marksman.
As Savi's father sat huddled in the corner blubbering about his superficial wound, Marc's attention turned to Savannah and he hurried across the room, opening his medical bag as he moved into action.
Dad gently touched Savannah on the head. "You're in good hands, hon. I'm going to take out the trash now."
"I'm bleeding!" The bastard's continued shouts made it clear he'd be a good candidate for what Damián had in mind for him later. "I'm the one who needs a doctor, not that dirty…"
Again, Damián heard Dad's fist make contact with the man's jaw. This time the shithead slumped over. As Dad hauled the piece of shit out the door, Damián returned his focus to Savannah's face. Her eyes were closed again. Under the circumstances, tuning out her pain might be the best thing.
"Cara, tell me the truth this time. Any allergies to pain meds?"
Damián wondered why he thought she'd lie, but Savannah shook her head. "No. None."
Marc filled a syringe and injected something into Savannah's hip. Damián wondered where a civilian had scored whatever narcotics he must have given her, but he was just grateful Doc could take away some of the pain his girl was experiencing.
Marc pulled out a bottle of water that carried a medical label and opened several packets of gauze. Apparently, he'd scored all kinds of supplies for this mission. Marc poured the water over the wounds on her back, ass, and thighs, causing Savannah to moan, then very gently dabbed away the excess blood and carefully cleaned the area with the gauze.
She hissed at the touch of the gauze against her wounds, her body growing stiff as she fought against the pain.
Damián stroked her cheek and crooned to her. "Shhh. It's over now. You're safe." A glance at her back told him a couple of the lacerations were deep enough to require stitches.
Fucking bastard would pay.
Marc applied some kind of cream to the superficial cuts. He bandaged the two deepest cuts. Savi moaned again at the contact against her raw skin.
"Sorry, cara. Almost done."
Savannah nodded and Damián stroked her hair. "That's my brave girl. Don't fight it anymore. Go to your safe place now."
A sob tore from her. "I tried not to scream, but I couldn't hold it back in the end."
"Aw, bebé. Your screams led me to you faster, just like in the hotel. You did everything perfectly. Just hang in there. Doc…Marc will have you fixed up in no time, and we'll get you out of here."
"I wouldn't say the things he wanted me to. I wouldn't let him control me again."
She'd fought so hard. Such a brave warrior.
"I'm so proud of you, Savannah."
More tears flowed from her closed eyes, but she didn't tell him to stop calling her Savannah this time. "You just let it out, querida."
"I tried, but I couldn't stay in the moment. I wanted to escape. I wanted to be with you instead."
With him? He didn't understand what that had to do with staying in the moment, but he needed for her to stay calm. "That's only for our special times together, bebé." He brushed her hair behind her ear and bent over to kiss her, feeling a pain in his lower leg. "Shhh. Rest, Savita. I'm here now."
Her body soon relaxed as the meds took affect. The sound of the SUV pulling up outside told him they would soon be able to transport her out of here to a trauma unit in Palm Springs.
Marc put some of the supplies back in the bag. "Damián, we're going to need to call for air transport. Savi's not going to be able to stand the SUV ride on those rugged back roads."
"Savannah. Her name is Savannah."
Marc nodded, patted Savannah on the leg, one of the few places she hadn't been cut to shreds, and radioed Grant to place the call. The sooner she got to a hospital, the better, even if the call brought the police out here. Her comfort and health came first.
He also wanted her checked from head to toe so they could document everything the bastard had done to her. At last, that piece of shit would get what had been coming to him since the first time he'd raped his daughter, but if Damián found out he or that cabron, Lyle, had raped her again, Damián would hunt them down again, cut off their dicks, and cram them down their fucking throats.
Focus on Savannah now.
He stroked her hair. For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he offered up a silent prayer. Jesús, help her pull through with minimal damage. Savannah was a fighter, a survivor. The mental and emotional trauma would have to be dealt with later, once her body healed. He hoped she'd let him help her get through this, as well.
Rage surfaced with the beast as it woke and raised its head.
Not yet. But soon. Damián would stay behind to finish this long-overdue mission. Then he'd go after Lyle.
Savannah struggled to get off the ottoman and Damián placed his hand on the back of her head. "No, bebé. Lie still. Do not move."
She gave up the fight and sank against the ottoman, letting her body go limp. He wasn't sure if she was still conscious or not.
Damián felt a tug on his pants and boot. "You stay still, too, son. We need to pack this wound." Damián looked down at his leg as Dad cut away the desert-digital pants, bloodied above his prosthesis.
"Fuck, son. I should have patted him down. Getting rusty at this shit in my old age."
Marc knelt down beside Dad, his medical supply bag beside him. Damián waved him away. "I'm fine, Doc. You need to work on Savannah."
"She's stable. I want to give that ointment a chance to work before I put bandages on the rest of the cuts."
Savannah gasped. "Damián, you've been shot!"
"Just a flesh wound."
"You're bleeding. Oh, God! What have I done to you?"
Damián fought the buzzing that swirled inside his head, growing louder and louder. What did she mean, what she had done? He knew who was responsible for this. That sonuvabitch would pay.
He opened his mouth to tell her not to worry, but glittering stars and black spots covered his field of vision as a wave of dizziness made him sway. He would not lose consciousness. Fuck, he wasn't finished with his mission yet.
His skin grew clammy as darkness engulfed him. Damián fought his way back, looking at Dad. "I am not leaving here until justice is done. Go back and keep an eye on him."
"Grant's with him. He's not going anywhere the way I've restrained him."
"Damián!" Savannah tried to get up from the ottoman. It was obvious by the pain glazing
her eyes that the effort was causing her even more distress.
Damián pushed himself up and laid his hand on her back, pushing her down. "Savita, don't move."
"Son, lie down before you pass out. Savi, that goes for you, too." Neither responded quickly enough for Dad. He placed his hands on his hips and assumed his master-sergeant stance. "Do. Not. Move. Either of you. I don't need both of you passing out on me."
Savannah lowered her chest to the ottoman, but didn't take her eyes off Damián's face. He couldn't take his eyes off her either, but after a few minutes, he couldn't remain upright any longer. Damián slumped to his back on the floor, gasping for breath, trying to stay alert. Memories of Doc working on him in Fallujah, trying to save his foot—no, his life—flashed across his mind. Fuck. Was he going to lose even more of his leg?
Knowing Savannah was in good hands, he gave himself permission to close his eyes. Just for a minute.
Damián's eyes shot open when he felt a burning sensation in his wound. Marc poured some kind of liquid over his calf. He gritted his teeth. "How bad, Doc?" The words transported him back to that scene on a rooftop in Fallujah he'd relived many times. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
He reached for the leather wristband Sergeant Miller's daughter had given him and sent up a little prayer asking for his comrade-in-arms to help them both get through this.
"Through and through wound, fleshy part of your calf." Marc injected the skin around the entry wound with something that numbed the area immediately. "Blood loss is minimal. I don't think you'll have any long-term problems. We'll fly you to the trauma center with Savannah."
Damián reached out and grabbed Doc's arm. "My mission…isn't…over."
Dad squeezed his shoulder. "Son, this mission just changed. It's over."
Damián glared at Dad and fought the blackness as it encroached once more. "Not leaving…until I've finished…what I came…to do."
Dad growled and looked ready to headslap him, but backed off and looked at Marc. "Can you do something to counter the reaction to the blood loss?"
"I can hook up an IV and do a quick infusion of Ringer's; it’s a blood expander."
"Plain English."
Marc grinned. "Yeah, I can help."
"Do it, Doc." As Marc went to work in the background, Dad met Damián's gaze. "Son, you'd better clue me in on the next phase you have planned, because you aren't going OFP."
This was Damián's mission. How could it be Own Fucking Plan, when it was his plan? But he had purposely left the others out of this phase. They'd risked enough already. But the next phase could net him prison time, if charges were pressed. About the only place it might be considered legal would be a Third World dictatorship.
Still, he had no intention of leaving Savannah's abuse and torture un-avenged.
"This is between me and the bastard who hurt my girl."
Dad got in his face. "You aren't completing this mission." Like hell, he wasn't. "Not without me, anyway."
Chapter Twenty-One
Disturbing images invaded Savi's mind as she drifted in and out consciousness. Zipping Mari into the duffel bag. Lyle and another man finding Savi in the closet and pressing a smelly handkerchief over her mouth and nose. Her father. More torture.
But different this time. Damián helped her through it. Until… Images of Damián lying on the floor, blood soaking his pants leg—so much blood.
Savi opened her eyes to find herself in semi-darkness. Her eyes adjusted slowly and she saw an IV pole hanging above her bed. How long had she been here?
Where was Damián? Or…dear lord, what if he…?
No! She wouldn't think the worst. Still, why wasn't he here? Where was Mari?
Savi's mind was fuzzy from the drugs she'd been given—Lyle had kept her heavily drugged on the drive to California, until he'd turned her over to her father. No, wait. Lyle wasn't drugging her now.
This was different. A doctor had prescribed these drugs. Why so many drugs? Were they keeping her sedated to postpone the grieving process, or to alleviate the pain? The only pain she felt was a sharp ache around her heart.
Numb. The rest of her body felt numb. She'd worked so hard with Damián to overcome much of that feeling, but now she was right back there again.
"I'm so proud of you, Savannah."
Savannah? Her mind's use of the name surprised her. Damián had called her that when he'd rescued her.
But had she come to terms with what happened to her younger self? Could she handle the pain of that past existence?
The pain of loss?
Something niggled at her mind, but was too painful, so she tamped it down again.
Mari and Damián. She needed them, but they weren't here. Had she lost them, too? She moaned as tears burned her eyes and let them flow without caging them. Her throat burned. She wanted to crawl into her cave.
Escape.
But she couldn't go there. The memories of those two very different days in the beach cave—first with Maman and then with Damián—were too painful to remember now.
Sleep. Her only escape now was the give in to the drugs and float…
When she awoke again, the room was even darker. She heard a voice over a speaker in the hallway paging someone to ICU. She was still in the hospital. How long had she been here?
"Here, sweetie. Have some ice chips."
Savi blinked, confused but calmed by the familiar voice of her friend Anita. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the woman who had nurtured her back to life after she'd escaped from her father's house all those years ago standing beside her bed again. She held a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a plastic spoon in the other.
As Savi's eyes adjusted further, she surveyed the room. Private. There was a loveseat and two chairs that didn't look very comfortable. She glanced at Anita again. The woman had been like a mother to Savi all these years. Anita had a lot more gray hairs since the last time she'd seen her in December, what three months ago? She must have been worried sick, knowing what Savi's father and Lyle were capable of.
Savi's lips were cracked and her throat dry, so she opened her mouth like a little bird to accept the soothing ice. After the small pieces melted and she swallowed several spoonsful, she decided it was time to get answers to the questions foremost in her mind.
"Mari? Is she okay?" Her voice sounded raw, hoarse, as if it was on fire.
"Yes. She's fine, sweetie."
"Damián? Where is he?"
"I'm sorry, he's gone, dear."
Gone? Pain stabbed her chest. "No!" Tears welled in her eyes. Not Damián, too! She hadn't even told him how grateful she was to him for all he'd done for her and Mari. If not for all the work he'd done with Savi, she wouldn't have been able to survive her father's latest abuse—physically or mentally. Her mind and body would have completely split apart, with no hope of reintegration.
Savi didn't want to go on without Damián in her life. What would Mari do without her Daddy?
Savi's chin quivered and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. She admitted how much she'd come to care for him these past few months. Her father had taken him away from her.
"He won, Anita."
Anita brushed the hair away from her forehead. "Who won, honey?"
Savi closed her eyes, unable to speak. The pain was too intense, and there was no creative visualization powerful enough to numb her or remove that pain from her this time. She stopped fighting the drugs and tried to fade back into oblivion.
Sleep. Escape.
"How is she?" Savi dreamt she heard Damián's voice.
"No change. She asked about you, then got upset when I told her you were gone. Glad you're back. They gave her another shot of pain meds a few minutes ago. When she wakes again, see if you can get some more ice chips in her. Her lips are so dry. I'll go down to the gift shop and get some lip balm for her."
Footsteps. A chair scooted on the floor. "Mi sueño, come back to us. Marisol and I need you." There it was again, the whispering voice of her angel,
Damián.
Perhaps she was dying, too, and Damián was there to cross her over. With a groan, she opened her eyes, wanting to see him, to go to him. Damián hovered over her, a Styrofoam cup in his hand. He smiled. A sense of peace enveloped her and she felt her soul merge with his, just for a moment.
"Take me home, Damián."
He grinned. "Well, the doctors might not let me do that for a little while yet."
Doctors?
She blinked and looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dark room, then back at the Styrofoam cup before her gaze returned to him. "This isn't heaven, is it?"
A shadow crossed his face. "I'm not sure they'd let someone like me in there." His callused fingers stroked her temple. "But it sure feels like heaven to me, looking into your beautiful blue eyes again, bebé."
More tears filled her eyes, and she felt them trickle down the sides of her face and into her hair. "I thought you were dead. You were shot. There was so much blood."
"De nada. I've been through much worse. Just slowed me down a little."
"And Mari? She's okay?"
"Yeah, Karla and Marisol flew out late last night. They and Adam are staying with my sister, Rosa and the kids. Marisol's been getting acquainted with her aunt and cousins. Teresa loves having another girl around."
Savi hadn't thought about how Mari would have a whole new family now, in addition to Damián's friends in Denver.
Emotion overwhelmed her again. She sniffled. "Oh, God. Damián, I thought I'd lost you."
He brushed the tears into her hair. "Shhhh, bebé. You've been through a lot. Just rest now."
She sniffled. "I'm sorry for the waterworks."
She saw his teeth gleaming against his brown skin as he smiled. "Hey, remember how hard it was for you to cry the first time?" Memories of their exhaustive first SM session, where he'd demanded nothing less than full-on tears brought a smile to her face, as well.
"Anytime you feel like crying is fine by me, Savita, because it means you're feeling something again. Your tears—your emotions—are the most beautiful gifts you can give me. The rest will follow."
"Oh, Damián. You've done so much for me. When my father was beating me…" Savi winced at the memory and Damián shushed her again, but she didn't want to be silenced. She needed for him to know what he meant to her. "The pain was so awful, but I imagined myself with you and I didn't even feel most of the blows he delivered. You were there with me. You carried me away from the pain, to our special place."
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