Savannah's Sentinel (Mountain Mastery Book 2)

by Avery Gale

  “You are bruised.” His unasked question was answered when her eyes flickered to the side.

  Victor straightened and cleared his throat. “She was uncooperative walking down the hallway.”

  “Do you usually guide women by their breasts, Victor?” The man had the decency to appear chagrined, and Marco made a note to fine the man a week’s wages for damaging the merchandise. The hefty penalty would keep Victor and the others in line. Dealing in high end sex slave auctions meant the slaves needed to appear perfect. The buyers he catered to didn’t purchase damaged good or seconds—they weren’t exactly bargain shoppers. “I’ll be deducting a week’s wages as a reminder, Victor. No one is to avail themselves of our guests. Leave us. I’ll summon one of the others to walk Amaryllis back to her suite.”

  Marco’s menacing tone sent a shudder through Victor, who gave a quick nod and backed out of the door. When Marco turned his attention back to the woman, she watched him carefully, but some of the tension seemed to have drained from her posture. “I’m sorry he hurt you. He rarely strays beyond the boundaries I’ve set for him.” She didn’t respond, but the small lift in her aristocratic brow told him she wasn’t convinced. There was something about her that intrigued him. For the first time in his career, he considered keeping this woman for himself.

  Her long blonde hair was the color of sun-bleached straw, the wavy strands curling around her baby pink nipples. She wasn’t tall, but her legs were long and well-toned. The bright polish on her fingers and toes let him know she’d taken advantage of the manicure kit he’d sent to her room. He’d watched her pace the length of the room on the closed-circuit cameras and wanted to give her something else to do before she wore herself out.

  “Have you sent the ransom demand yet?” Her question was unexpected, but he carefully schooled his expression, masking his surprise. How interesting. If she thinks her father isn’t paying the ransom… He might be able to make this scenario work in his favor. If he could convince her that her father refused to pay a ransom to free her, she might well seek solace in his arms. After all, it would be easy to convince her he wasn’t the one who’d ordered her abduction—since it hadn’t been ordered at all. The two men who’d made the mistake would be on perimeter patrol for the next fifty years to make amends for the error.

  Letting his eyes move over her, Marco didn’t try to hide his growing desire. It would have been impossible even if he’d wanted to since his erection was clearly visible under his dress slacks. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth—that there had not been any ransom demands made. “No, I’m afraid there has been no response from your family. I’m doing my best to shield you from those above me, but they are not known for their patience.” There wasn’t anyone above him in the organization now that his father had handed over control of the family business. His recently retired father was still more involved than he needed to be, but his emphasis was quickly switching to more personal matters. He’d begun pressuring Marco to find a woman to provide him with grandchildren, so perhaps… Marco suspected the old man would happily forego the money Amaryllis would bring on the auction if his son would settle down and begin filling the halls with the pitter patter of little people.

  Marco walked to the other side of the room, his steps silent on the expensive Persian rug. He loved the bamboo floors in his office and made sure his staff kept them polished to perfection. But he’d learned soon after moving into this office, the sound of his designer dress shoes walking over the surface was so distracting he could barely focus. As soon as his father turned the everyday operation of their organization over to him, Marco had ordered a specially designed rug to cushion the sound. Its irregular shape made it easy for him to walk around the office without the distracting clatter he’d found so annoying.

  When he stepped back out from behind the hidden door to his private lavatory, he noted the beautiful woman standing in his office hadn’t moved. She was facing away from him, and he slowed his pace to enjoy the view. The woman had a world class ass, and all he could think about in that moment was sinking his throbbing cock deep into her and not coming up for air until neither of them could walk.

  Amaryllis Fitzgerald would certainly bring in a hefty sum, but something about her made him hesitate. None of the feelers he’d put out were turning up any significant internet chatter about the young woman’s disappearance. It was likely her father knew she was missing, and if he was thinking along the same line as his daughter, the man was probably worried about involving the press.

  The media was notorious for getting victims killed. Reporters loved blasting news of kidnappings from the gated driveways of the rich and famous. As soon as the broadcasts aired, thugs got nervous and cut their losses. Marco had seen it happen again and again. Brit Fitzgerald didn’t become one of the richest men in America by being stupid. He was watching and waiting. Marco’s tech staff reported they’d set-up “trip wire alerts” all over the web for anyone researching Ms. Fitzgerald’s disappearance. They’d assured him they hadn’t set off any of the alarms themselves, and he hoped like hell they realized they were betting all their lives on it.

  Stepping in front of her, he draped the robe he was carrying around her shoulders. After helping her slip her arms in, Marco pulled it together in the front and tied the sash. “It’s a pity to cover such loveliness. But I’d like to talk to you, and to be honest, I’m more than a little distracted when I look at you. All I can think about is touching you, and I don’t want to do anything to frighten you.” Taking her hand, he led her to the sofa and seated her before uncovering the food he’d had delivered before her arrival. “Let’s eat and talk.”

  He noted her hesitation, but she finally nibbled on anything she saw him eating. Smart girl, don’t sample anything you haven’t seen your host eat. He wasn’t above drugging a woman, but he’d meant it when he said he wanted to talk to her. Five minutes into their conversation, Marco had already determined her fate. Now to convince her to stay with the man who had—up until a half hour ago—been determined to sell her into sexual slavery. He’d never needed to charm his sexual partners—in his world, money was the only conversation women understood. Smiling to himself, Marco decided he was up to the challenge.

  Chapter Nine

  Savannah rolled over and stared at the ceiling of Landon’s enormous bedroom. She’d been training with him for almost a week. His hands had touched her in places only her gynecologist had seen, but he still hadn’t fucked her. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her sleeping in his bed if he wasn’t going to…cutting off her wayward thoughts, Savannah shook her head. “You are not going down that path. You already knew he didn’t want you. Why assume things would be different now? Keep your head in the game, and for fuck’s sake, stop talking to yourself.”

  Rolling out of the large bed, Savannah moved to the indoor spa Landon called a bathroom. After taking care of her personal business, she read the note on the marble counter.

  Don’t bother with a shower this morning. Go to the pool area after eating the breakfast Lenore has prepared for you. Follow Carter’s instructions; then swim thirty laps. My meetings will be over before you’ve finished. Master Landon

  The change in routine surprised her, and she wondered what Carter would have her do before she went to the pool. Stepping into the kitchen a few minutes later, Savannah froze in the doorway when she noticed Carter wasn’t alone. He was leaning back in his chair watching her…his gaze moving over her like a heated caress. The man sitting across from him turned to face her, and she sucked in a breath at the sight of U.S. Senator Karl Tyson.

  She took a quick step back, but before she could turn to run, Carter’s voice cracked around her like a whip. “Stop.” Savannah went completely still, frozen in place. Blinking as fast as she could to hold back tears of humiliation, she kept her eyes on the floor. She heard the murmur of voices, but couldn’t make out what they were saying over the blood pounding in her ears.

  When the toes of black leather loafers
came into her view, Savannah tensed. “Eyes on me, sweetness.” The voice didn’t belong to Carter, and it took every ounce of discipline she could muster to raise her chin until their eyes met. His were soft and kind, but still keen with the look of an uncompromising Dom. “Better. I understand your reluctance to walk into the room. Under any other circumstances, our second meeting would play out much differently.”

  Her surprise must have shown because he grinned. “Yes, Savannah, I remember meeting you at the reception last year. Although I must say, I was surprised to learn you are Brit’s sister. Who knew he was related to two beautiful women? Astonishing, really—as I’ve known him since we were both in college.” He cocked his head to the side and frowned. “Why weren’t you at his wedding?”

  Savannah felt her eyes widen in surprise…no make that shock. She probably shouldn’t have been impressed—after all, she’d heard the man standing in front of her was brilliant. Gossip on the Hill credited him with a memory for details that shamed most legislators. The smile she tried to pass-off must not have reached her eyes because she saw his jaw tighten. “I was at prep-school, and my parents didn’t want to expose me to the media circus that surrounded the festivities.” In truth, they hadn’t wanted the world introduced to their socially inept, braces-wearing, geeky daughter.

  He didn’t respond for long seconds, but the tensing of the muscles around his jaw told her he sensed he’d been given the “pc version.” God knew she was well-versed in PCBS. Her parents had trained her to spout politically correct bull shit from a young age. Hell, protecting the secrets of the CIA was nothing compared to those she kept for her family.

  “I hope someday you trust me enough to be completely honest.”

  She froze. Would he pull her off the mission for not confiding her family secrets? She was well aware of his various committee seats. Senator Tyson had more than enough influence to get her removed from this assignment.

  His answering smile was warm, understanding flooding his eyes. “Sweetness, I understand that you don’t have any reason to believe me. And any reassurance I could give you now would be hollow. Trust must be earned, and friendships aren’t formed overnight. Perhaps someday you and I will share both.” She’d seen pictures of Landon Nixon and Senator Tyson together so she assumed they were friends. It was the only reason she could think of that he’d seem sincere about being her friend.

  “Thank you. I should probably get downstairs to the pool. It was nice seeing you again, Senator.”

  When she started to step away again, Carter’s hand encircled her upper arm. When did he move? Fuck-a-doodle. If I keep letting people sneak up on me, I’m going to have to go back through training. “You haven’t eaten. And I have a surprise for you before you go downstairs.” Her eyes quickly scanned the table where he’d been sitting, but whatever he had for her wasn’t setting out. Carter chuckled as he led her back to the glass-topped table. “You didn’t think I’d leave it out for you to fret about while you were eating, did you?”

  He pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. A soft towel covered the upholstered top, just as it had every other time she’d used one of Landon’s dining chairs. She wondered, yet again, if the towel was to protect her or the furniture…she was betting on the later. After he’d pushed her chair in, he gave her legs a pointed glare before turning his attention to Lenore. Savannah rolled her eyes, but moved her legs apart and hooked her ankles around the legs of the chair.

  “Did you just roll your eyes, little one?” Karl Tyson’s words held a hint of amusement beneath the question, but she hadn’t missed the thread of steel laced through them. He’d left little doubt he was a Dom.

  Carter’s attention spun back to her, his brow furrowed. He watched her as she took a big gulp of her orange juice. When she started to take another, he shook his head. “Answer Master Karl’s question, kitten.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her gaze skittered between the two men, trying to determine how angry they were. Rolling her eyes had gotten her in trouble her entire life. It was like the damned things had minds of their own. “I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I was embarrassed, and that was my way to feel more in control.”

  Karl Tyson leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but finally nodded. “Carter, I suggest you only add two swats to the ones she’s already earned for trying to skip breakfast earlier.”

  What? She hadn’t tried to escape…well, not really. She’d only taken a step or two back because she’d noticed Carter wasn’t alone. His eyes glittered with devilment, and Savannah let out the breath she’d been holding when she realized he wasn’t really angry with her.

  “That works for me. I know she was told to eat breakfast before swimming, so I’m befuddled by her reluctance to enter the room.”

  Okay, now they were just fucking with her.

  “Befuddled? Really? Befuddled? I don’t think I’ve heard a grown man under the age of eighty use that word. Holy shi—ingles. I’ll bet if I watch close enough I’ll see your hair go gray right in front of my eyes.” The look on both men’s faces made her laugh out loud. Damn it felt good to laugh. “Oh my, you have no idea how much I enjoyed that. I haven’t laughed since before I heard about Amy.” She took a big bite of the omelet in front of her and moaned in pure appreciation. “I swear I’m kidnapping Lenore when I leave.”

  Lenore’s voice sounded from the pantry, “I’ll start packing. Landon is gone so often he probably won’t realize I’m missing for months.”

  “Not true.”

  Savannah’s head swiveled so quickly to the doorway it was a wonder she hadn’t sprained something. Landon leaned against the doorframe, one leg bent at the knee and crossed over the other ankle, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. Holy hell, the man was hot. His gaze moved over her, and Savannah couldn’t hold back the shudder of awareness that vibrated from her core.

  Senator Tyson chuckled as he rose to his feet. “Christ, the air is practically crackling between the two of you.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear, “You’re perfect for him. He may not realize it yet, but it’s true.” As he walked by Landon, she heard him say, “Seal this deal, my friend. Windows of opportunity don’t stay open forever.”

  Landon’s gaze never left her, and she felt her cheeks heat furiously. “You know your way out. Give your lovely wife my best. I’ll call you later, and we’ll finish the discussion we started earlier.”

  Karl shook his head and continued walking. “We’ll talk tomorrow night. Your sweet sub has a punishment coming, so I think you’re going to be busy for a while.”

  Savannah’s cheeks were flaming hot, and she couldn’t believe Senator Tyson had just thrown her very bare ass under the bus. “That’s just wrong. He’s a public servant. Didn’t he take some sort of oath to protect citizens? I’m a citizen. Figures that he’s friends with my brother.” She probably sounded petulant, but she didn’t care. In her experience, her brother’s friends were usually well-polished jerks.

  “He and your brother aren’t friends. They have mutual interests and mutual friends. But they aren’t friends.” Landon hadn’t moved, but his casual pose didn’t fool her. He was coiled tight and as lethal as any agent in the business. She wasn’t afraid for her life, but she was certainly worried about the punishment Karl and Carter felt she’d earned. There wasn’t a chance in hell Landon was going to cut her a break and look weak in front of other Doms. Oh yeah, this wasn’t going to work out well for her at all.

  Landon finally gave up trying to concentrate on the phone conference he’d been participating in when he saw Savannah try to back out of the kitchen. He’d cut the call short and watched the security feed until she’d rolled her eyes while Carter had been turned away. It was a classic Tally-move, and he’d be certain Karl wouldn’t have missed it. Both Carter and Karl had seen him move into position, but he’d been out of Savannah’s peripheral vision.

  He’d been Karl and Tally Tyson’s third f
or almost two years and thought of Karl as a brother. But seeing the lust in Karl’s eyes when he’d looked at Savannah ignited something inside him. He’d never felt possessive of any woman, and he’d damned well never experienced jealousy—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t recognized both feelings when they’d swamped him. The minute Karl mentioned her punishment, Landon had launched to his feet, moving to the kitchen before he’d taken time to consider his actions.

  The amusement in Karl’s eyes told Landon his friend wasn’t fooled by his nonchalance. The man knew him too well to miss his barely restrained need to pull her into the protective circle of his arms. Jesus, Joseph, and Mother Mary, this mission was going to steal his sanity if he didn’t get a fucking grip. He’d sworn to himself he could keep her at arm’s length, but each day presented a new level of hell.

  “Finish your breakfast, Princess. You’re going to need the energy today.” His voice was rough despite the fact he hadn’t spoken much above a whisper. Her nipples peaked in response, but she swallowed back whatever response had been on the tip of her tongue. He pushed away from the oak doorframe to stand across from her. It took a great amount of effort to hold back his smile when she realized why he was now standing directly in front of her. Who knew he was going to enjoy this glass topped table so much?

  Savannah tried to inch her plate forward in a subtle effort to block his view of her bare pussy, but a slow shake of his head stilled her movement. “I want to look at you. And that’s my privilege, Princess.” He watched in amusement as a blush moved from her chest to her cheeks. She probably cursed her fair complexion as much as he appreciated it. Most of the submissives he dealt with rarely blushed, and those who discovered how telling the response was tried to mask it by tanning. He’d happily slather Savannah in sunblock, because he planned to keep her bare and fair as long as she was his.