A trickle of sweat ran down her back. What should she do now? She spotted Sam near the back, instructing a Dom on how to throw a single-tail. Master Z was monitoring a wax play scene that looked as if it wasn’t going well.
Cullen was her best bet.
She made her way to the bar, smiling and trying to look carefree, finding a section of the bar that held no one close. She stood, heart hammering, waiting for Cullen.
“You all right, pet?” His appraising gaze ran over her. He’d obviously picked up her distress, although she could swear she looked normal.
“Just a little stressed,” she said discreetly. “There are so many people to keep track of.” She let her gaze rest on the huddle of Doms.
He glanced at them, and she could see him memorizing their faces and names.
She let her gaze wander over the group, then past. Don’t stare. Instead, she caught the gaze of a thin-lipped Dom sitting at the bar, sipping his drink.
With a smile, he tilted his head toward the St. Andrew’s cross in an invitation to play. The idea of doing a scene right now—knowing the slaver was in the room—made her shudder. And…he was the Dom Sally said had slapped her.
After shaking her head to refuse, she turned to Cullen. “Are my drinks ready?”
“On the way.” Cullen patted her hand, his huge one making hers disappear. “You can take a break, you know, love. Master Sam’s strict, but he doesn’t want you trainees dropping from exhaustion.”
Strict. She wanted to be in Master Strict Sam’s arms so badly she shivered. “I’m fine.” She had to keep moving or she’d flee. Had to figure out which of the men was the spotter. Had to keep him from hurting anyone else.
With a trayful of drinks, she headed toward the tables, almost tripping when the lights flickered, disappeared for a second, then resumed. After a slow breath, she was okay. She had only four to watch now, rather than the entire membership. If she circled around them, eventually she’d figure out which man it was.
The next time she looked, she saw Cullen talking to Master Z. Her tension eased. They’d watch those four Doms. Whichever one of them the slaver was, he wouldn’t have a chance to escape. In fact, Z might just line them up for her to talk with. Her stomach went cold.
To her dismay, the group of Doms broke up. Two headed toward the back. One picked up a submissive, and the other asked someone to dance. Most of the stools around the bar were empty now. Probably people wanted to get a chance to play before the power went off.
Oh heavens, now what?
Sam was still in the bullwhip area. Even as he talked to the observers, he looked up and scanned the room. For her, she knew. His gaze hit her like a warm splash of rain, and then his eyes narrowed.
Needing him and his strength more badly than she could bear, she started toward him. A third of the way across the room, she froze as lightning crackled so close she heard the sizzle. The lights flickered and went off. Completely. At least three people screamed, and she heard a shout.
And then the battery-powered, dim emergency lighting came on, marking the doors and along the walls. It didn’t help. She still felt as if she were going to jump out of her skin. Go to Sam.
As she skirted a couch, the thin-lipped man from the bar blocked her path. He was punching buttons on his cell phone, not watching where he was going.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking up into his face.
He grinned. “No. Excuse me, cunt.”
The voice. His voice. God! As she tried to run, he jammed his cell phone against her side.
Agonizing pain blasted through her, spasming every muscle in her body, turning the world black.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The rain hit Linda’s face, cold and harsh. Hurt, hurt, hurt. She tried to move. Her muscles didn’t work. Her head flopped. Her arms were pulled behind her back; her cuffs had been clipped together.
Blinking hard, she realized she was facedown…because she lay over someone’s shoulder. And outside.
The slaver…the slaver had her. Everything in her wanted to panic, but her body wasn’t hers. Limp and stupid.
How had he gotten outside with her? Past the guard?
As rain streamed down her face, she saw that the ground was grass, not concrete. They weren’t in the parking lot. Not in front of the building. She managed to turn her head. Tall hedges, glimpses of a fence. Fountains. They were in the Capture Gardens that Master Z kept closed off except for special times. It was an alarmed fire door. And the alarm…wouldn’t work with the power off. Oh God.
Thunder rumbled across the sky, the flashes of lightning almost constant. Small solar lights lined the paths. She groaned, tried to move. Can’t let him get away. Can’t.
“Waking up, bitch?” The man rolled her off his shoulder, dumping her on the ground.
Everything jolted. Her head throbbed like someone had used a mallet on her skull.
“Fuck, you’re heavy.” He rotated his shoulder, his breathing harsh.
She stared up at him. Not one of the four Doms. This man had been at the bar behind those Doms. Her tongue felt fat, sluggish, and her “Why?” came out sounding like mush.
“Saw you listening. Figured it out.” He smirked. “I like redheads. Oh yeah. And older bitches. We’ll have fun in a minute.” He straightened and turned in a circle. “There’s a gazebo back here somewhere if I can find it. Got time. With the place blacked out, nobody will notice you’re missing until way too late for you. Such a pity.”
A second later, she understood. Because he’d taken her out the side door, no one would realize they were in the Gardens. Panic demolished her thoughts until she could only shake. She tried to move, screaming inside her head at her sluggish body. Try, try! Couldn’t do anything. Closing her eyes against his smug expression, she fought her way free of the fear. Gripped her emotions and held them. She’d lived through this before. Gotten free before.
She forced her hands open. Closed. Again. She had to get her body to work. Pain sizzled through her, too much like the lightning in the sky. The wind whipped the trees overhead. Rain hit her face like hammers, but cold spatter returned a bit of feeling to her body.
“Yeah. The gazebo must be that way.” He yanked her to her feet, held her up when her knees buckled.
She tried to jerk away.
“Give me trouble, and I’ll zap you again,” he said coldly. He patted the cell phone clipped on his belt. “Cute, huh? They make stun guns in all disguises these days.”
The cell phone was a stun gun. She closed her eyes, concentrated on breathing, and getting her strength back.
Humming under his breath, he half carried her down the grassy path, past shadowy nooks, arbors and fountains, a swing. A beautiful place and horrible, horrible right now.
“Gonna rip you to pieces, slut. You’ll bleed so much even the rain won’t wash it away.” He squeezed her breast. “Can’t wait till Davies sees what I leave of you.”
Tears of anger and fear joined the rain on her face. She couldn’t bear this. Not again.
No! No panicking. They’d look for her. Sam was there. He wouldn’t give up. Neither would she.
* * * *
When the lights went out, Sam ran toward where he’d seen Linda.
“Help!” The high, hysterical scream stopped him. A woman in suspension was panicking and thrashing so hard her Dom couldn’t cut her free. Sam grabbed her and held her still as the man snipped through the ropes. One rope. Two.
“Easy, baby, take it easy,” the Dom was murmuring. Around the room, other submissives were being set loose. Yells and calls for assistance spread through the room.
Sally appeared in the dim light. “Where’s Linda? I can’t find Linda!”
Son of a bitch! He couldn’t just drop the submissive in his arms. “Sally.”
The sub stopped, panting and looking around with terrified eyes.
Fear knotted his gut, and he snapped out, “Find Z and tell him, girl.”
Sally ran.
&nbs
p; “Last one,” the Dom said.
The ropes dropped off, and Sam took the weight of the submissive. As she cried, he set her onto a couch. Her Dom dropped down beside her.
Done. When he turned, he spotted Nolan in the shadowy light with Beth tucked under his arm.
Sam motioned him over. “Find Linda.”
“Hell,” Nolan muttered, his expression darkening.
Sam headed for where he’d last seen her. No one in that spot. No Linda in sight. Hell with this. He hauled in a breath. “Linda! Answer me now!”
The room quieted, the command in his voice shutting everyone down. No answer. “Linda. Answer me!”
Sharp glass seemed to fill his gut. Where the hell was she? He started for the front entrance.
Z appeared at his side, carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. He handed Sam another. “Cullen said she’d pointed out four Doms, but they’re all in the room. Ben says no one came out, and he won’t let anyone leave.”
“Where the hell—”
“I’ve got the Masters searching.”
A shout came across the room. Marcus’s voice. “Restrooms empty.”
Raoul’s voice. “Theme rooms clear.”
“Not upstairs,” Dan yelled.
Cullen yelled, “Not danceside.”
“Not in the back,” Anne yelled.
“He got her out. Somehow.” Sam considered. “Your private exit to your yard is locked.”
“Yes. The only other way out would be—” Z turned toward the side of the room. The Capture Garden door stood slightly ajar.
“Hell. No power. No alarm.” Sam’s jaw clenched. The huge Gardens were designed for hide-and-seek games with hedges and hidden nooks. In the dark and rain, it could take hours to find her. If the spotter had her, she didn’t have hours.
Conn was in the truck, which Sam had parked right in front. “Start the search. I’m getting my dog.”
* * * *
Linda couldn’t stop shivering. Her skin was drenched. Her hair hung in cold tangles on her shoulders. She couldn’t stand on her own, let alone run.
The slaver—Aaron, he’d said his name was—dropped her onto a bench in the gazebo.
Her hope of rescue was sinking. A tall cedar fence marked the back wall of the garden. “They’ll catch you. You should run while you can.”
“Gonna do you first.” He grinned. “Then I’ll cut your hair off for something to remember you by and toss your body over the fence.” He tried to yank off her bustier but couldn’t work the tiny wet hooks with his wet hands. When he pulled a hunting knife from the sheath at his hip, her breathing stopped.
God, please, no.
But he slipped it under the leather and sliced upward between her breasts. The bustier dropped open. “Much better.”
His hands were on her, squeezing roughly. She kicked at him frantically, knocking him back. He grunted in pain, but her bare feet hadn’t done enough damage.
Stepping forward, he slapped her legs aside, grabbed her throat. Then his head lifted. Running sounds. A dog baying. “Fuck, they’re out here already.”
She knew that dog. Conn was here. Exultation filled her. Scream. She pulled in a quick breath and—
He grabbed her hair, and his knife pricked her throat. “Scream and you’re just meat cooling in the rain.”
She choked back the sound, her hands clenching. Here. I’m here! Please…
“Too damn fast. Were they watching you, slut?” He slapped her cruelly, the pain sudden and startling, then yanked her to her feet. Before she could recover, the knife was back at her throat. He answered for himself. “I knew you were listening. But you’d already told Z, hadn’t you?”
He considered the fence, then shook his head as footsteps advanced directly toward them. “Too late. Bet they have someone guarding the parking lot by now.”
Hurry, Sam. Hurry.
Aaron stared down at her with cold eyes. “Guess it’s the hostage game. Don’t fuck up or I’ll slit your throat in front of them all.”
He would anyway. She knew it, saw her death in his gaze. He turned as Conn appeared, the dog brought to a sudden halt by the leash Sam held. Z and Nolan were directly behind him. Others followed.
Her hope of being freed was dying fast, but oh, she wouldn’t be left alone with this man. Gratitude for that mercy made her eyes water.
In the wet light from the nearby fountain, Sam’s pale gaze fastened on her. Fury made his gaze almost glow. “Let her go.”
“Don’t be stupid.” The spotter gave a short laugh. “Back off, way off, or I slit her throat and you watch her bleed out.”
“You aren’t that stupid.” Z’s mild voice belied the rigidity of his jaw. “Killing her won’t help you.”
“Be satisfying though.” The knife pricked her skin.
She felt blood trickle down her throat, hot against the chilled skin.
“I’m not going to jail. I heard about the Overseer—getting reamed like a cunt,” Aaron said. “Either I get away clean, or I take her with me before I die.”
Sam’s growl and Conn’s snarl sounded in the silence.
The guy laughed. “I never liked you, Davies, but you’ve got good taste in sluts. Now back off.” The knife pricked her harder.
She gritted her teeth. He wouldn’t get a noise from her. Wouldn’t get anything. Never, ever again. She met Sam’s gaze and spoke directly to him. “I’d rather die than let him take me. My choice. My body.” Know that I mean this, my love.
Sam’s face blanked of all expression.
“Shut that yap.” Aaron put his hand over her face—her nose and mouth. She couldn’t breathe. As she struggled, Aaron yelled at Z, “Back the fuck up. Now.”
Blackness danced in her head. But as the men retreated, almost disappearing in the darkness, Aaron removed his hand from her face.
Air. She heaved in a breath, another.
As Aaron dragged her beside him, she turned her head. Everything in her wanted one last look at her Sam. Just one.
At the edge of the clearing, Sam handed Conn’s leash to Anne. As the Mistress dragged the dog away, Sam stood alone.
Linda looked at him. I love you. Regret swept over her, colder than the dying wind. The rain had stopped, but water dripped from the trees and palms. What might they have had together? Why had she let Sam retreat from her? Now those few days had been wasted, precious jewels of time tossed away.
And her hope of more time with him was fading so, so quickly. Her lips tightened. If the slaver got her to the parking lot, then—but only then—she’d give up. She’d jam her neck on the knife herself. I’m sorry, my babies. Sam. I hope you’ll forgive me someday.
But never, never, never again would she be a slave.
SAM’S RAGE HAD disappeared, driven down to a hard ball in his gut, waiting to explode. As his mind frantically turned over plan after plan, his heart slowed, his blood turned to ice.
Linda walked on Aaron’s right, his right hand curled around her left upper arm, holding her in place. His left hand held the blade against the left side of her throat. The bastard was fully a head taller than Linda was.
There was no surefire plan. None. No time to get weapons, which Z undoubtedly had upstairs. Aaron had made it clear he was willing to die—and kill Linda first.
Sam wanted to wait. Surely there’d be a way to get her free that wouldn’t risk her life. She just had to hang in there.
“My body. My choice.” She’d spoken clearly. Bluntly. She’d rather die.
He saw only one slim chance to free her. He pulled in a breath against rigid lungs. If his actions killed her…he’d slaughter the bastard and follow. Damned if he wouldn’t.
Once back in the shadows, Sam slipped over to Z. He’d need space and darkness. But the approach to the mansion’s side door was lit with solar lamps. No way to shut them off.
However, the lighting for the front of the Shadowlands was electrical. Without power, there were no lights.
Z’s eyes were black in the dim
lighting. “If he’s willing to die, there’s no good way to take him out before he kills her. We can try, but I doubt she’d survive. ”
“I want to take him just past the fence.” Sam considered the areas of light and dark. “You make him use the side gate. Follow him. Noisy. Keep his attention on you.”
“And?”
Sam unsnapped the bullwhip from his belt.
EVEN KNOWING HER cuffs were clipped together, Linda fought the restraints. She needed—needed—to push the knife away. With every step, she felt the cold metal scrape against the left side of her neck.
She’d lunged to the side to escape his hold, but his hand was big and his grip on her arm was unbreakable. He’d cut her again, whether by accident or anger, and now his grip squeezed her upper arm so tightly the flesh grated against her bone.
Helpless. Her jaw clenched against the screams desperate to escape.
But she’d fight until her options were gone. She let her weight sag and dragged her feet to make the slaver work for every inch of ground.
He didn’t want to die. She felt the tremor of the knife on her neck. But she’d heard the spiteful resolve in his voice. He’d kill them both if the men trapped him.
Trembling shook her body. I don’t want to die either. But she would. Oh yes. Even knowing what her death would do to Sam. He’d forgive her. Eventually. The slaver had no intentions of letting her go free; the only question would be when she’d die.
And she’d be the one to decide when. She wouldn’t get into a car with him. If he made it to the parking lot… Well, at that point, she’d make sure the only body he’d get would be a dead one.
“Fucking cunt, move your legs.” He gripped her upper arm, dragging her forward. The knife never moved from her throat. Her lips twisted in a bitter grimace. Maybe he’d trip and kill her by accident.
“I’ll open the side gate for you,” Master Z’s voice came from behind as they neared the mansion.
“Do it,” Aaron grunted, turning away from the door into the clubroom.
Z moved ahead and held the tall wooden gate open.
Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am Page 33
