by Desiree Holt
She had to get out of here. That much was evident.
With every part of her body in distress, she made her way slowly and agonizingly to the bathroom. Leaning on the vanity counter, she stared at herself in the mirror. The face that stared back was grotesque: pinched and drawn, with dark circles beneath eyes that still reflected the vestiges of the terrible night. Her tears had mingled with the mucous from her nose to create an unholy mess on her face. And from what she could see of her body, her skin was fiery-red from all the abuse. The bright dots on her breasts and belly were evidence of the cat-o’-nine-tails. She was sure if she could turn around and look over her shoulder, she’d see the red marks of the flogger and the cane.
He’d been a maniac with that cane, worse than she could ever remember. An instrument that delivered maximum pain under any circumstances, it had been applied liberally, with Brian putting his strength into every hit. Fallon was surprised he hadn’t broken any of her bones.
I have to do something. And soon.
There had to be a way out of her elegant prison. Some way to slip out. She was positive an opportunity would present itself. She had to believe that or she’d go insane. But not tonight. Not while he was still in the house.
Turning on the cold water faucet, she filled the glass sitting beside the sink, drained it, refilled it and drank again. She cleaned her face and then, moving like some crippled old woman, she made her way back to the bed and crawled under the covers.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow something would happen and she’d be able to get out of here. It was the only thing that gave her even the faintest edge of hope.
Unexpectedly, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 12
Brian considered checking on Fallon after breakfast but decided against it. Leaving her to wonder how long she’d be alone, without any indication of what came next, was part of the plan. He had also thought about locking her door, but he was convinced he’d so successfully taken her down to nothing last night, she’d be too terrified to try to leave the suite. It was her comfort zone as well as her prison. Mrs. Hudson would take her a breakfast tray after he’d gone, and report to him on her condition. For the moment, that would be enough while he decided on his next move.
Last night when he’d left Fallon, he’d gone directly upstairs to Natalie. His original intension had been to sleep in Fallon’s room, but he’d decided the feeling of desertion would unsettle her and work better in this case.
He had given Mrs. Hudson orders regarding breakfast and drawing a bath for Fallon, as well as attending to her bruised and battered body. The housekeeper had been handling such things for him for years. He often thought she enjoyed probing and caressing the bodies of his subs, especially since he knew she did it in such a way that robbed them of all dignity.
Brian was feeling smugly satisfied with himself. Natalie had been terrified when he’d entered their suite last night, wondering if he was just going to leave her alone forever. As tired as he was, he had taken the time to administer a small punishment that aroused her, and brought her to climax. She had thanked him profusely and even wanted to suck his cock to show her gratitude, but his poor dick had already had plenty of use prior.
Besides, refusing her had upped her degree of uncertainty, and he liked seeing that look in her eyes. And it had allowed her to almost gratefully accept his need to cuff her for the night in an uncomfortable position on the bed.
Tonight he’d look in on Fallon, perhaps give her a few strokes with the flogger and then use Natalie for his amusement and gratification. And today he was about to go after yet another business to add to his global empire. This one would give him enormous pleasure. Those bastards at the Sons of the Republic of Texas chapped his ass, telling him he wasn’t eligible for membership. So what if his ancestors showed up a year too late? With all his money and power, you’d think they’d be kissing his feet to join.
So he’d go after them this way, knocking them down one by one.
He backed his car out of the garage, headed down the driveway, and pressed the button on the console to open the electronic gate. Driving along the street, he noticed the van from the cleaners he used making its early morning pickups and deliveries. The driver pulled out into the roadway just as he passed, nearly clipping his car.
Damn asshole. Maybe he’d buy the business just so he could fire him.
“It’s been less than forty-eight hours and I’m going out of my mind.” Cord dragged his fingers through his hair, then rubbed the stubble on his chin.
Claire studied the man sitting across from her, saw the worry and devastation in his eyes. At eight o’clock, he rang her doorbell, apologetic about the early hour but looking so wild-eyed she hadn’t had the heart to send him away.
“Take a swallow of coffee,” she told him, “and try to settle down. You won’t do anyone, including yourself, any good if you fall apart.”
“I know, I know,” he muttered and took a sip of the hot liquid. “I can’t concentrate on my work at the ranch. I don’t dare show up at the event center. I’ll scare people away. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“For one thing, pull yourself together. I can’t predict what the outcome of this will be, although I sure wish I had a crystal ball. But if Fallon does walk away from Willoughby on her own this time, you’ll need to be the strong one. I guarantee you, she’ll be broken into pieces and will need to be put back together.”
“What if she doesn’t leave him?” Agony rang in every word.
“Then we’ll face that together.” She leaned across the small breakfast table and placed a hand on his arm. “You’re my friend as well, Cord. I’ll be here for you. If it all goes to hell, you’ll need to put your life back together and find a way to move forward.”
“And Fallon? Will you be there for her if she needs you?”
Claire slapped at him. “Of course I will. What a dumb question. It’s not even worth answering.”
“You did this once before with her,” he pointed out. “Are you willing to go through it again?”
Claire studied his face for a long moment before answering. “Cord, Fallon will be my friend no matter what. The way I look at it, she has this… disease. I tried to cure it for her once before and it didn’t take. She has to want to be cured.”
“And if she does?”
“Then I’m here whenever she wants me and for whatever she needs. But you, my friend, need to get your shit together. If Fallon manages to leave Brian on her own, she’ll have a long healing process. You’ll need to be patient and maybe not even see her for a while.”
“Fuck.” He rubbed the bristle on his chin. “What if she’s ruined for… for…” He fumbled for words.
“For the kind of sex the two of you enjoy together?” Claire finished in a soft voice.
He nodded. “What happens then?”
“That’s a decision the two of you would have to make. I can’t get into something that personal. But let’s not go there yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself with the what-ifs. You’ll just make yourself crazier.” She hoped the smile she gave him was encouraging. “Go home. Work the ranch. Oversee your business.”
“You’re right. I guess.” Cord swallowed the rest of the coffee in his mug. “Maybe if I fill the daylight hours with enough backbreaking work, the nights won’t pass so slowly.” He stood up. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this. Honestly.”
“I know, Cord.” Sympathy filled her eyes. “Remember. You can call me or come by anytime you need to talk.”
His mouth twisted in a bitter grin. “You may regret that offer.”
“Never. Now go on. Get back to the ranch.”
She stood in the doorway, watching as he backed out of the driveway, her heart breaking. For both of them.
Fallon opened her eyes, trying to orient herself. The intense pain that had woken her many times during the night had eased slightly. But every cell of her body was still on fire, inside and out. She folded back the covers and eased
herself to a sitting position, slowly swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her muscles screamed at the effort.
I have to get out of here before he kills me.
She’d convinced herself even further through the long hours of the night that what Brian practiced, and a healthy D/s lifestyle, had no relationship to each other. Claire had tried so hard to tell her that Brian was a destroyer, a demolisher. That he chewed people up and spat them out, both personally and professionally.
Somehow in her head, she’d gotten everything mixed up. Early in her twenties she’d discovered she was a submissive, despite having a strong personality. She loved being dominated in the bedroom. And Cord had shown her what a loving relationship between a Dom and a sub could be on a long-term basis. A mature relationship. With him, she had truly begun to understand and recognize the levels of pain that aroused her sensually and those that were beyond her tolerance. Everything in their relationship was an ongoing negotiation, as it should be in a healthy D/s situation.
Brian Willoughby had seduced her in so many ways—with attention, with his voice, with promises of extreme pleasure only he could provide. He’d awakened a dark need for edge play she hadn’t even known lurked in the recesses of her brain. But then he’d taken the punishment levels to extremes, something she saw now too clearly. A master manipulator, he was so clever that she was hooked before she could realize how destructive he truly was.
Cord had opened her eyes to what was possible again, yet Brian had maintained his unhealthy hold. Possibly because she hadn’t broken it off herself, but whatever the reason, she had allowed it. She’d allowed herself to be drawn back to the man who’d awakened her dark sexual nature, ignoring the danger.
Well, there was no way to ignore it now. Her bruised body was a visual reminder.
Images of Cord filled her head. Even though he probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her after this, thinking of him, remembering every minute they were together, was currently her only lifeline.
She thought briefly about just telling Brian this was an error on her part but realized immediately what a mistake that would be. He would never let her just walk out of here. He was insanely obsessive and on a crusade to break her completely. Crossing him was what had put her in this hell. And a night worse than the last would surely destroy her.
No, to break away, she’d have to sneak out like a thief.
How did I allow myself to get reduced to something like this?
Because you’re greedy. Always wanting more pain, more edge, more orgasms. You couldn’t appreciate what you already had. Now you have more than you ever bargained for.
Slowly, like the broken woman she was, Fallon made her way to the bathroom and used the toilet, even that simple, natural task causing pain to her abused body. Then she washed her hands and dried them on a fluffy towel hanging on a rack. She found a toothbrush and toothpaste in the medicine cabinet and took her time brushing her teeth. She wondered if she’d ever get the taste of him out of her mouth.
While she was frightened of what would happen if she stayed here even one more night, Fallon knew that getting away from Brian was only a first step. Her mind still needed a lot of repair. But first things first—she had to get out of here. And that wouldn’t be so easy. For one thing, she had no clothes. For another, pain shot through every limb each time she moved.
She was considering the possibility of a shower to see if that would help her body when she heard the bedroom open. Mrs. Hudson walked in, her lips thinning when she spotted Fallon in the bathroom.
“Mr. Willoughby said to wake you at this time, but I see you’re already up.” She studied Fallon from head to toe. “I also see you required a great deal of discipline last night. That upsets him.”
It didn’t make me happy, either.
“I’ll be bringing your breakfast shortly. Then I have instructions on how to bathe you and attend to your body today.” She pulled a tiny plastic bag from one pocket. “Aspirin, to take the edge off the soreness.”
Soreness? It’s a hell of a lot more than that.
“Take these. I have some other chores to attend to before getting back to you. Sit in the wing chair again and wait for me.” She paused to make sure Fallon was back in the chair as directed before she turned on her heel and left.
The lock snicked into place after the door closed. Fallon stared at the baggie in her hand, wanting something to ease her pain. But she didn’t trust anything that came from Brian. Not anymore.
As soon as she was certain Mrs. Hudson wasn’t going to stick her head back in to make sure Fallon was in her statue pose in the chair, she made her way back to the bathroom. Emptying the pills in the toilet, she flushed them away, careful to ensure they disappeared. Then, gritting her teeth, she sat back down on the bed and forced herself to think.
She’d have to figure out how to incapacitate the housekeeper long enough to make it out the front door. As weak as she was, she’d be taking a big chance. But she was also desperate, and desperation often gave one strength.
The first thing she did was search the suite to find her purse and put it where she could easily get it. Then she looked around again, trying to figure out her escape, discarding one scenario after another before finally deciding on the only thing she thought might work.
By the time she heard the door open and close again, she had staged her scene.
When the housekeeper entered, Fallon was lying curled up on the floor beside the wing chair, the little side table tipped over. The heavy lamp from the table was lying on the floor next to her, the cord curled around her hand. At first glance it should appear she’d fainted and knocked over the lamp as she fell, clutching it for support. At least, that was her hope.
“Holy hell!” The housekeeper’s voice was sharp. “We can’t have this. Mr. Willoughby will be very upset if you’re useless to him!” Mrs. Hudson shook her. “Damn it. This is unacceptable! I’ll have to fix this.”
Fallon gathered herself, waiting, waiting.
As soon as the woman crouched beside her, Fallon moved, grabbing the lamp and swinging it as hard as she could.
There was a satisfying thunk when it hit Mrs. Hudson’s head.
Fallon pushed to her knees and, for good measure, swung the lamp one more time.
Then she knew she couldn’t wait a moment longer. She grabbed her purse from its place on the dresser, yanked open the door and raced out of the room. She didn’t even look back to make sure the housekeeper was incapacitated enough not to come after her.
Get out! Get out! Get out! Don’t stop!
The phrase was screaming in her head.
At the front door, she punched the button she knew opened the gate and ran down the driveway, uncaring that she was completely naked. Desperation fueled her as she fled, heedless of harsh pavement beneath her bare feet. She made it through the gate as it swung open, and out into the street.
Just get to someone’s house. Just get help.
She hobbled quickly down the sidewalk. She didn’t know how long Mrs. Hudson would be out and expected at any moment the woman would come racing after her. A couple of cars drove slowly down the street as she padded down the sidewalk but apparently no one wanted to stop for a naked woman. And she didn’t want to seek help too close to Brian’s place.
She made it to the fourth house down the long street, up the stairs from the sidewalk to the front porch, and leaned on the bell.
“Help,” she croaked. “Please help me!”
She banged on the door but her spurt of energy was dissipating. She saw someone peering out through the blinds at one of the windows and leaned on the bell again.
“Please help! Please!”
But that was all she had left in her. She collapsed on the porch, blackness surrounding her.
Chapter 13
“Okay, sweetie.” Claire fixed the covers on the bed where Fallon lay and fluffed the pillows behind her. “Can I do anything else for you? Help you shift around? In a minute, I’l
l give you some meds and then you can go back to sleep.”
“I’m so sorry to throw myself on you like this.” Fallon wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off if someone had just plucked her up off the stranger’s stoop and tossed her out with the trash. And here she was imposing on Claire again. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Oh, honey.” Claire perched at the edge of the bed and took Fallon’s hand in hers. “Please don’t apologize. I’m just so thankful you’re here with me instead of back at that bastard’s house.”
“Thanks for getting me out of the hospital. I know they wanted to keep me, but I just needed to… I had to—”
“Be someplace private. I understand.”
“And where he can’t charge in and get at me. He has the influence to do that.”
“I know.”
Fallon’s bruised lips managed a smile. “You… were a real tiger. The doctor was… pretty pissed off.”
“Honey, given the shape you’re in, no one in his right mind would agree to let you leave. We had to sign you out AMA—Against Medical Advice.”
“Thank you,” Fallon repeated. “I just couldn’t—”
“It’s all right. I took care of everything.”
“He might show up here, you know. Like he did the last time.”
Claire smiled. “I’m keeping my little pistol at the ready. He won’t get in here no matter what he does. And I’m sure he wouldn’t want to face charges of breaking and entering along with everything else.”
She brushed Fallon’s hair from her face, a gesture Fallon found so full of love and sympathy, she nearly broke down and cried.
There was a lot she didn’t remember, nor was she ready to ask questions yet. She remembered waking up in a hospital emergency room covered with a blanket, with a young cop standing beside the bed, an angry yet concerned look on his face. And her body one steady beat of pain.
