Collared By The Cowboy (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  “This is a nightmare.” He stared at his phone, wanting to hurl it against the wall, but didn’t. Mia might try to call him. “I’m heading over there and if I have to storm the place, I will.”

  Miller glanced at his buddy. “Well? You up for this or is it going to cramp your style?”

  Northrup flashed him the bird. “Better than the illegal wire taps you’ve got me doing tonight.”

  All three men walked out into the living room. Wade McLemore came over to them. “Well? What did you find out?”

  Brandon snarled, “We’re going back to the city. I already called the police. And again, they aren’t going to do anything.”

  “You want us to come with you?” his father asked.

  “No. Stay here. I’ll phone you when I find out something.” He knew what he was capable of, and didn’t want them around if he got hold of Humphrey. He’d do whatever it took to get to Mia. He didn’t care what it was. “Forgot something. Be right back.”

  He returned to his office, going to his desk, and pulled open his drawer. Just as he did at the club, he kept a handgun here. Rifles, too. Shit, he’d hoped he’d never have to use a pistol. He unlocked the safety and loaded the gun. Only one thing this was good for. Brandon gripped the Glock .40, the weight secure in his palm, and he tucked it into the back of his jeans.

  Returning to the living room, his family stopped talking, and everyone’s attention was on him and he turned to Miller. “Shit. I need to leave. You guys still sure you want to come?”

  Matt came over to him and clapped him on the back. “Hey, man. You’re crazy if you think any of us are going to just sit this one out. I’m sure as fuck not staying here if they’re going.”

  “Forget it. Carolina and your children need you more.” Brandon raised his hand and swung his gaze from Matt to Rory. “And you, we can’t risk another man down on the ranch. If something happens to me, you’ve got to cover Stephen and me.”

  “That sucks.” Rory jammed his hands into his pockets. “But you don’t have to say a word. I got you.”

  “This isn’t going to be pretty. My life is a powder keg waiting to blow. I’m not going to responsible for one more person feeling the burn from the fallout. Bad enough Mia’s caught in the crossfire.”

  “Let’s go find Mia.” Miller nodded.

  They rode in Miller’s SUV and when the detective called him back, Brandon supplied him with the information about the club. The detective informed him that since it was a club, they’d need more than just his suspicions to take action. Mia hadn’t called them, nor had anyone from the club called in a complaint. Then he made some wiseass crack about a sex club.

  “Goddammit!” he swore when he hung up. “Totally useless.”

  “What happened?” Miller asked.

  “The detective made some bullshit remark. Said wasn’t that the whole point of the club…to be tied up for group sex.”

  “We’ll be there in a few. Just keep a good thought. I know this doesn’t sound great, but it’s a public place. How out of control can it get?”

  “Jesus!” How to answer that? For some—off the charts, maybe the worst form of debauchery. For others, routine. For him, horrifying, if it meant Mia was being chained up and mauled. “If that cocksucker touches a hair on her head, I’m going to kill him.”

  Miller flashed him a glance. “You need to handle this with a level head.”

  Brandon saw red and lashed out. “Why? Because this might open up a can of worms that your wife’s family won’t appreciate?”

  “Whoa! Back down. This doesn’t have anything to do with Virginia or me. Shit, you don’t think most of the family knows what Spurs and Leather is about? Bran, you’re an adult with an adult club. You don’t denigrate women, and from what I saw it was pretty classy.”

  “What?” He regarded the profile of his older brother.

  Miller nodded. “You’re not there every night of the week. Virginia heard about it from one of your members and had guest passes arranged a few months back. We kept it under wraps and squared with it with Pen. What I’m referring to is your temper.”

  Shit, he wasn’t about to go around the bend to hear his family was visiting his club. That was a subject too dicey to deal with at this moment. He focused on thinking straight and, as his brother reminded him, reining in his temper.

  With deadly calm, he retorted, “I want him wiped from the face of this planet, if you’re asking.”

  He tapped his cell phone screen and stared at Mia’s message, pleading for his help. His goddamn help. This wasn’t a bedroom escapade of being a Dom—this was for fucking real. Sitting in a moving car, he felt incapable of helping the one person he’d promised to protect. He didn’t know the number for the bondage club where Mia had been taken to and tried to google it on his phone.

  “Nothing.” It wasn’t listed, and he wondered how the fuck he was going to get inside. Brandon fought to keep this blanket of choking fury from taking over and blinding him. He should have taken action, the first time he met that psycho. He’d gone the sensible and structured route, hiring an attorney, believing justice would be served. Bull-fucking-shit! “North, can you get the number to the owner of the club where Mia’s being taken? His name is Tony Newell.”

  “Can do. I’ll get his cell phone number. Do you want me to monitor his calls?”

  Brandon curled his hand into a fist. “Fuck, if he’s talking about Mia. Do it.” He’d never prayed in his life to the extreme that he did as he sat there and waited for the information. All his worst nightmares boiled to the surface as Humphrey’s threats of what he’d do to Mia replayed in his mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  God, where is he taking me? Exits flew by on the highway and Mia tried to figure out their destination as they drove through the commercial district and over to the side of town where factories had gone out of business. Beau spoke to someone on the phone, announcing he was almost at the Company.

  After driving across Paris, they’d ended up in the rundown industrial section of town. He stopped at the corner of an old factory complex and parked. Few people were out; okay, she did see two men, but they were pushing a shopping cart and rummaging through trash.

  “Where are we?” she demanded.

  “Just sit tight. I’ll get your door.’ He snorted as she tried to head-butt him. In turn, Mia chafed at having her wrists bound but still raised her hands to claw at his face. “I can make your life a living hell,” Beau reminded her.

  No you won’t. You’ll never have any power over me, asshole! She lifted her leg, trying to kick at him, and he took hold of the laces to her hoodie.

  “Fuck. You better quit this shit.”

  At first he stared at her, cursing under his breath, then he pulled on the strings, tighter and tighter until she reacted to the pain over her face with a muffled moan, “Ow.”

  “Want some more?” Shoving her back, he laughed as she slammed against the door. He tore several pieces of duct tape from the roll. “Get over here. Turn that face this way and I won’t have to slap it again. ‘Cause honeybunch, you’re a mess.”

  After he pressed the tape across her mouth, Beau climbed out of the car and she glanced around, scanning the parking lot, trying to figure out where they were. This was the first time he’d opened her car door since she’d known him, and she had only seconds before he came to her side. Seconds before he took her to God knew where…then she noticed the knife. He’d left it behind when he got out and she reached for it quickly, half-training her focus on him as she curled her hand around the handle. The tip snagged on something and—Christ! She dropped it. Mia glanced down, searching in the dark for the knife. Dammit, it was wedged between the seats.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned.

  He’d managed to haul her from her apartment, making her dress in a hoodie with the hood pulled over her face, and holding a butcher's knife up against her ribs. Under the threat that he’d cut her face, so no one would want to look at her again if she tried
anything, she’d walked obediently to his car.

  Mia didn’t doubt he’d do it. Back at her apartment he’d rambled on about his plan to leave the country and it made no sense—until he lit up a crack pipe. The pieces of the puzzle came together then, and she felt like a complete fool. How could she not have seen the signs? Beau had changed from the mild banker she’d met and had once believed was a good match, to a drug addict who’d sold his very soul for one more hit.

  The car door opened and he leaned in, roughly cupping her tender chin and making her look up at him. “You try one more thing, and I’ll lay you out flat.”

  He dragged her from the car, then down a dark alley toward a brightly lit doorway. It looked out of place in the dismal space between the buildings. He walked up to a large metal door where she heard the low, thumping beat of techno music. Beau pressed a buzzer and the door opened, revealing a man who must have been almost seven feet tall and right out of a slasher film.

  “Yeah. What do you want?” The man wore a black latex mask and body suit, and she gasped so loud through her nose that he turned his attention to her, narrowing his eyes. “First time anyone has ever arrived in this manner. Why is she bound and gagged?”

  Beau grabbed her around the waist. “That’s her pleasure, and why we’re here.”

  “Better come in, then,” the man replied.

  No! She couldn’t believe this was happening! She yelled No! behind the tape until Beau squeezed her breast, his fingers digging into her flesh, and twisted his hand sharply. Her vision spotted with prickling flashes of light and her breath dissolved.

  “She loves this. Couldn’t stop talking about tonight,” Beau drowned her muffled cry. “Not long now, petunia.”

  The walls were lined with clocks with vulgar slogans and Mia recoiled, her body stiffening at some of the suggestions. Beau shoved her forward. The entrance was narrow and Mia caught her foot on the rug. He swore, hauling her across the doorway, and gave her a piercing look. The room itself was dark, painted black on the ceiling and floor and any places where there weren’t clocks, and was manned by two other men who stared at them. There was a counter, some type of check-in area, and an unoccupied black leather sofa.

  “I made arrangements,” Beau informed the man. “Friends are meeting me here. Name is Nixon.”

  She did a double take at the realization that Beau was using an alias.

  The slasher dude grinned, “Another first. Nixon, you’re just full of surprises.”

  “Not really. Just your run-of-the-mill dick,” Beau said.

  The masked man nodded to another guy who had joined them. “This is tonight’s special edition. Whole club is invited to partake?”

  “Yeah,” Beau said. “Everyone. Men, women, whatever—just bring it on.”

  “We don’t do whatever,” the second man said in a deep voice. He tugged on the thick chain around his neck.

  “You the owner?” Beau asked. “The man I spoke with?”

  The man stood there, muscles flexing, and appeared to study her then shot Beau a look as he folded his arms across his bare-chest, covered in tattoos.

  “The very one.” He wore a pair of tight motorcycle leathers like the ones she’d seen some of the men in Brandon’s club sport. He cast a glance in her direction and glowered. “She looks like you’ve already done a number on her.”

  “Hold on.” Beau handed him a wad of cash. “She wants it hard, just like we talked about. You know the type.”

  “Wait here,” the man said to Beau, but all the while he openly stared at her, raising an eyebrow as she returned his hostile regard.

  He walked a few feet away, dumped the cash onto the countertop, and spoke in a low voice to a third man who glared over at them. Mia decided in an instant this was so not good. She had hoped that she could somehow explain that Beau had brutally kidnapped her, but these three looked as though they’d like nothing better than to get Beau’s warped party started.

  The bare-chested man returned. “We’ll take your slave,” he informed Beau.

  She reeled back a step, her chest constricting so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Was Beau dropping her off here for them to do as they pleased? Oh. God. No!

  With no plan in place, she grabbed the entrance doorknob with her bound bands and turned, scrambling backward into the alley. She turned and tripped, smacking her chest and stomach onto the ground. Surrounded by debris and uneven pavement, with her hands tied together, she rolled over and tried to kick the two men who had followed her outside.

  “Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” one of the men remarked.

  “She’s going to put on quite the show,” Beau chortled. “You got paying customers, right?”

  Ignoring Beau, the bare-chested man hunched over her. “Don’t hit, kick, or scratch me,” he warned her. “Nod if you understand.”

  She tried to sit up without his help, but fell back against the pavement, hitting her elbow. Grudgingly, she nodded. There was something about him…but then she remembered, hoping he wouldn't hurt her was lunacy. He was going to be one of the men who raped her.

  The man took hold of her, curling his hands around her upper arms, and lifting her up from the street. “Steady,” he said as he brushed off her hands and loosened the ties of the hood, pushing it back from her face. He swore under his breath, his eyes widening for a second before he peered over to Beau. “Affirmative. We do have paying customers and we need to prepare her. Clean her up.”

  “Fine by me.” Beau shrugged. “I’m going for a smoke. How long do you think it’ll take before show time?”

  “Twenty minutes,” the man in the leathers said, his hand curled around her bicep and tugged her close to him.

  She tried to pull away and he growled, tightening his grip on her. “Stop.”

  Beau smiled gleefully. “I’ll cool my heels right here. See you inside, sweetie,” he cooed to Mia.

  The man silently guided her back inside. “Watch your step this time.”

  The owner must be a master, like the one Brandon had explained would get a submissive ready.

  “Damn,” one of the guys inside the entrance said when they returned. “It’s going to get really fucked up here tonight. You ready for this?”

  “I’m ready to split someone.” The leather wearing man snapped.

  The man behind the counter snickered. “Easy to do. What are you going do with her? I’d take her to one of the back rooms. Just saying.”

  “Hold still,” the leather-wearing man said, slicing her with a withering look.

  He stopped next to the counter, he removed a knife from his pocket and Mia flinched. She watched him flick it open as her heart pounded so hard it hurt. He moved it to her arm and she couldn’t watch him cut her. But she felt no pain, only a jiggling motion, and she peeled open her eyes. Shocked, she watched him cut the duct tape from her wrists.

  After removing the tape from her arms, he led her down a passage, glancing over his shoulder when he slowed down and she smacked in back of him. He stopped at a doorway and frowned, staring down at her. She held her breath, wondering what he’d do.

  “Stay still. If you don’t want this to hurt worse than it has to.” He raised his hand to her face making her gasp. He cupped her chin, lifting up her face.

  She pushed her hands on his chest and twisted away.

  “Cut it out,” he snarled, pulling on the tape at her mouth until she couldn’t hold back from the pain and flinched.

  She didn’t understand what getting her ready entailed and tried to think what she could do to escape—her heart was beating so fast from being near him. He was toying with her like some sick cat and mouse game. Inside a dark passage, she hunted for possibilities.

  “Shit. That tape is going to hurt like a bitch when it comes off. Let me see if we’ve got some lotion. Wait here.”

  She glared at him. Like I have so many other options. He went inside the room leaving her for a few precious seconds. She had to find a way out. She scanned the area a
s the sound of muffled voices rose and fell. Every few seconds a shriek emanated from somewhere down the hall that made her jump. The man tilted his head out the doorway and she thought her heart would burst. She heard the man talking to someone just on the other side. Slowly she inched away from the doorway. She had to get this tape off so she could find and tell someone she was being held.

  She began pulling the tape and scrunched her eyes closed. Slow wasn’t working. This was just a little harder than ripping off a Band-Aid. She snapped the first piece off and gasped, clawing the wall. Christ, she still had another piece and stopped as a loud cry filled the air. Mia’s skin crawled and she closed her eyes, praying for strength, when she heard a wail that rang out and reverberated inside her head.

  She opened her eyes. Oh, hell no!

  Fuck waiting around docilely. No one was in the hall. The passageway formed a ‘T’ shape, and she had to make a decision. If she walked ahead, there was music. That’s where the sounds of clinking glasses and voices and shrieks emanated from. She backed up from that direction, but the other way went to the front where the slasher film dude waited.

  The bare-chested man exited the room and she took off, sprinting full speed down the only other hall, and toward a glowing red Exit sign.

  He swore under his breath. “Don’t make me run after you. Shit.” He sounded pissed. His booted footsteps landed loudly as he closed the distance between them. “If you go out that exit, he’ll be waiting for you.”

  Ha! What does he think I’m stupid? Mia shot a glance over her shoulder.

  Holy hell! He was almost on her tail. She couldn’t outrun him to get through the doorway. They were both moving too fast to stop before they hit the door. He barreled into her, and they pivoted from the impact, their bodies twisting. They slammed into the wall and rebounded to the floor. With the breath knocked from her body one more time, Mia placed her palms on the carpet at her shoulders, bowing her head, and considered whether to get up or stay down.

  “Bullshit,” she mumbled to herself. Never would she submit to these men. She rose, shaking her head, and watched as the man rolled to his side.