Sweet Silence

by Melinda Barron

  “We’ll see if I make it to my cell with these.”

  “Tony. I’ll try to…”

  “No. Don’t worry about not coming. This is my fault. The lure of easy money. Besides, I have a parole hearing soon. Maybe this time they’ll let me out. Be careful, Sorcha. Writing can be dangerous.”

  “Well, I have a friend who’s helping me. He’ll protect me.”

  “He’d better. Or I’ll be looking him up when I get out.”

  * * * * *

  Sorcha felt drained as she drove back to the hotel. She parked and sat in the truck, fighting back tears. Tony had tried to put on a brave face, but she knew her visit had affected him more than he wanted to let on.

  He’d picked up on the information she was seeking so quickly. Last night, she and Diego had decided it would be too risky for her to take written information into the prison. They’d decided on the books, hoping Tony would realize what she was talking about. And he had, immediately.

  Janice Monroe. Her husband had killed a private prison guard and been killed himself, all on the orders of Dustin Jaymes. And she had the evidence to prove it.

  Sorcha thought she took a big chance going back to Albuquerque, where Jaymes lived. Either that, or she was very smart. If she lived far away from Jaymes, there was little chance he would see her if they went to different stores and theaters.

  Although Sorcha doubted a man like Jaymes did his own shopping. Maybe Janice Monroe had been smart to hide close to the danger, where Jaymes might not ever think of looking for her.

  The door to the hotel room opened and Diego appeared, his cell phone at his ear and a frown on his face. He gestured for her to come inside and she did so, closing the door behind her.

  “I’m not sure, Ward. She just got here. I’ll call you back in a little while.”

  He closed the phone and nodded. “How’s your tight little bottom, mi juguete? Sore from the good pounding I gave it?”

  Sorcha laughed nervously. “No, Master. It feels wonderful.”

  “Good. How’s your cousin?”

  “Lonely. Depressed. I feel so bad. He deserves payment for helping us.”

  “He did a crime.”

  “I understand, but he’s trying to help now. Can’t we try to help him?”

  “We’ll see. Since he’s up for parole soon, we can put in a good word. How does that sound?”

  “Great.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Janice Monroe. She’s living in Albuquerque.”

  Diego pulled out his cell phone and hit a few buttons. “The book thing worked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Smart guy.”

  He paced the room and barked out Ward’s name. “Sorcha and I are thinking about visiting my Aunt Janice in Albuquerque tomorrow. Will you be around? That’s right, Albuquerque. OK. Yeah, well, I’ll e-mail you the time and place. We should be in Santa Fe by six tonight and you can confirm whether or not you’ll be there. Great.”

  He hung up without saying good-bye.

  “An aunt in Albuquerque?”

  “Phones can be bugged.”

  “And e-mails can be stolen.”

  “That’s right. I gave him the first name there, and will give the last name in e-mail. Hopefully, if something does happen, the woman’s full name isn’t in one place for them to steal.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I thought so.” He pulled out a case and hooked up a laptop. Sorcha sat down beside him on the bed as he powered it up and logged into a wireless network. When it was connected, he typed in the message:

  “Meet us at the restaurant on Monroe Street. You know the one.”

  He sent it without signing it and closed the laptop down.

  “Let’s go. I want to get home.”

  “Me, too. I want to come back and visit Tony some more. Will you come with me?”

  “Sure. This time I’ll even go inside and meet him.”

  “You’ll like him.”

  “If he’s related to you, I have no doubt of that.”

  * * * * *

  Diego took the back roads, heading up through Alamogordo and Vaughn before turning toward Clines Corners. They stopped at the small town on I-40 to walk a bit and stock up on sodas and snack foods.

  When he announced it was time to get back on the road, Sorcha groaned.

  “I’m tired of being in the car. Can’t we stay here a little bit longer?”

  “Whiner, and no, we can’t. Besides, it’s only another hour.”

  “Yeah, on the longest, most desolate road in the nation. Why don’t we just go to Albuquerque and stay at my place tonight?”

  “Because your place doesn’t have a dungeon.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He cocked his head at her.

  “Diego.”

  “Who do you belong to?”

  “You, my liege.” Her words were soft.

  “The first thing you need to learn, if you haven’t already, is that your Master is a very horny man. And I want to play tonight.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She climbed into the truck and opened a soda can.

  Diego pulled left onto the two-lane highway. They were doing construction on the road to widen it, and Sorcha hoped it was late enough at night that the workers would be gone. She voiced her opinion to Diego and he snorted.

  “Fat chance. Look.”

  He pulled to a stop in a line of cars and she groaned. “Told you we should have gone to Albuquerque.”

  “Watch it. I’ll make you swallow me in front of the construction workers.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.” His grin was evil and Sorcha clamped her mouth shut.

  They traded jokes for about forty-five minutes as they stopped and started and stopped and started. They were about twenty miles from joining I-25 when Diego said, “Screw this.”

  He cut off to the right onto a dirt road. The truck bounced on the uneven lane. Dust clouded up around the truck.

  “Where are you going? How do you know this leads to the highway?”

  “I don’t. But I’m sick of sitting and…shit.”

  “What? Did we get a flat?”

  “No, we got a tail.”

  She made to turn around and he stopped her. “Don’t. Keep facing the front. Take my cell phone and call Ward. Tell him we’re being followed.”

  “But how can you be sure that ‑‑”

  “Just do it, baby.” His voice was low and even, and contained no anger. He winked at her and turned his gaze back at the road.

  “The number?”

  “Speed dial three.”

  She punched the buttons. “Who are the first two?”

  “The second one is work. The first one is my mother.”

  “Good for you.”

  He cut the truck around a small hole in the road. “Hey, even Doms have mothers who love them, and they love back.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Crap. Voice mail.”

  “When it asks to page him, do it with a 9-1-1 after it.”

  She listened to the message and punched in the numbers, then closed the phone and clutched it to her chest.

  “Diego?”

  “It’s OK, baby. I promise. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

  She nodded and gave him a tiny grin. The phone rang in her hands and she jumped.

  “Put him on speaker.”

  “Diego? Where are you?”

  “We’ve got a tail. I left the highway so we could try and get away from the road construction, thinking I could find a road in here that would lead us past the construction. He came with us. Run this plate.”

  Diego rattled off a number and Sorcha stared at him. “How did you see that in all this dust?”

  “He was waiting for us at Clines Corners. I thought it looked weird for two guys to just be sitting there. I memorized the plate then.”

  “All right. We’ve got José Barton, a known associate of our friend. Diego, I’m sending units
your way. Do you know where it was you left the road?”

  “About ten miles from the Interstate. There are houses out here, few and far between, true, but I don’t want to endanger someone. I’m turning around.”

  “Be careful. We’re on our way.”

  Sorcha’s eyes widened. Diego clutched the wheel and turned to her.

  “If they start shooting, keep your head down.”

  “Shooting? Diego.”

  “Remember what I said, I’m not going to let them hurt you, not my sweet little juguete.”

  He slammed on the brakes and the truck fishtailed into the dirt and low-lying bushes. Sorcha clutched the door as he floored the gas and turned the wheel sharply, the truck spinning as he went. The truck behind them tried to follow, but ended up part way into the open field before it could turn around. Diego took off like a bat out of hell as Sorcha tensed up, grabbing the door and the plastic strap built into the frame.

  “Keep your hands and head down. Bend down.” She saw him looking into the rear view mirror as the truck bounced along the road. Any second now, she expected him to lose control, or for a tire to blow. When a loud crack sounded, Sorcha screamed.

  “Motherfucker! Keep your head down!” Diego cut the truck right into the field, weaving in and out through sparsely placed trees. “Yeah, shoot at us now, you motherfucker.”

  He cut back toward the road and Sorcha clutched the seat.

  “Relax, baby,” Diego said. “¡Chinga usted, ustedes pequeños bastardos! ¿Como te atreves a amenazar a mi mujer?”

  If she hadn’t been so frightened, Diego’s screaming at them about threatening his woman would have made her heart soar. As it was, she was scared to death, frightened that a bullet would find its way inside the truck, and into Diego or herself.

  “How far to the road?” Her voice shook and he took his hand off the wheel long enough to caress her shoulder for a few seconds.

  “Not far, baby. O no permitiré que ellos te hagan daño.”

  She lifted her frightened gaze to look at him. “I know you won’t.”

  “There it is. That’s it.” He sounded relieved, and then he let out a string of cuss words.

  “What?”

  “Too many people. Too many cars.” He slammed on the brakes again and threw the truck into reverse.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Throwing a wrench into his plan. He wants to chase me? Try doing it while I’m in reverse.”

  Dust clouded around the vehicles and Sorcha lifted her head. “How can you see him?”

  “I can make out an outline.” He pulled his gun from his holster. “Can you hold the wheel?”

  “Are you kidding me?” She shook her head violently.

  “Come here. Hold it steady.”

  “You’re going to shoot? No, Diego!”

  He set the gun on the space between them, then slammed on the brakes and turned the truck so it was facing the other vehicle. Both trucks sat silently, facing each other like boxers waiting for the bell. He hit the button to lower the window.

  “I’m going to run straight for him, like a big game of chicken. Cut right when I say so and I’ll shoot at his tires.”

  “He’ll be shooting, too!”

  “Probably. It’s this or take it to the highway.”

  Sorcha turned to the other truck. “He’s coming.”

  “You ready?”

  She nodded, took off her seatbelt, and scooted across the seat. She kissed Diego’s cheek and took a deep breath.

  “Ready.”

  “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll both be alive tomorrow for me to fuck your sweet ass.”

  She choked out a laugh and took the wheel, screaming out Diego’s name as he pushed the speed higher and higher.

  “Cut right!” She turned sharply, praying the truck didn’t roll. The sound of bullets filled the air and she whimpered when Diego slammed on the brakes.

  “Got him! Idiot shot the truck instead of the wheels.” As the truck slowed, they turned to watch the other vehicle tumble to its side, then onto its hood, the bed hitting the ground and putting it at a weird angle.

  The sound of sirens filled the air as Diego ejected the gun’s magazine and slammed another one in place. He reached for his door handle, then stopped.

  “The cavalry’s here. Late, but they’re here. Stay in the truck. Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll stay here until me or Ward comes to get you.”

  She nodded and he left the car at a run, his gun clutched in his hand. She turned to watch vehicles approach from the way they’d come and relief flooded her body.

  She could hear screaming, and see men running toward the overturned truck. She watched them pull both men from the cab and stand them upright. She smiled as she watched Ward stop Diego from slamming his fist into one of the men’s faces, and again heard him scream in Spanish about the fucker threatening his woman.

  His woman. She was his woman.

  When she saw Diego heading toward her, she exited the truck and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He gathered her close.

  “I thought I told you to stay inside.”

  “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

  “Oh, really? Well, crap.” He’d sounded amused, then angry.

  “You’re that mad?”

  “My truck. Look at the bullet holes in my truck.” He ran his fingers over the holes in the truck bed. “I’ll kill him.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re lucky it wasn’t your head.”

  “Or yours.” He caressed her cheek. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go home. We’ll do paperwork tomorrow. Right now, I want a shower and a nice long nap.”

  “Sounds good to me. I call dibs on the shower first, though.”

  “Are you kidding? We’ll shower together. Saves water, and gives me an opportunity to play with your beautiful body at the same time.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Low voices came from the kitchen. Sorcha groaned, sat up, and lay back down. Her body ached, her shoulders felt like she’d been put inside of a dryer and turned around and around and around.

  Or at least that’s what Sorcha thought it felt like. Last night in the shower, Diego had found several small bruises from where she’d been thrown against the door during a turn, or bounced against the steering wheel at the end.

  He’d kissed each one, telling her he was sorry for putting her in danger. He’d dried her off and taken her to his bed where he’d gently loved her, putting himself in every orifice in her body until she screamed with pleasure, over and over again.

  She turned toward the nightstand and frowned at the sheet of paper sitting there. She picked it up, saw a collar resting under it, read it, and laughed.

  You’ve had some fun as just Sorcha. It’s time for my juguete to return. Put on your collar and come to breakfast.

  Put on my collar? She could still hear voices coming from the kitchen. Who was he talking to? Ward? Or someone else? How would she feel if she walked into the kitchen wearing a collar and it was someone else? Would this person know why she was wearing a collar, or would they wonder if she was someone strange?

  She stood and picked up the clothes she’d dropped on the floor last night. They were dusty and sweaty and she put them back on the floor. Where was her suitcase? She looked around and didn’t find it.

  Finally, after several minutes of searching, she found another note from Diego sitting on the bathroom counter.

  There are clothes for you in the dungeon. Find them there. Put them on. Hurry up.

  She attached the collar around her neck, then rushed across the hall, stopping short at what she found. Clothes? He called these items clothes?

  Her boots were there, lying on the table next to the leather skirt she’d worn the first day. The blouse lying on top of it, though, wasn’t a blouse. It tied up the middle and was made of sheer black material. She held it up and frowned, then gasped when she realized th
ere were two slits cut in each side, one for each breast to slide through.

  “Mi juguete?” Diego’s voice sounded from the end of the hallway. “I know you’re awake because I heard you moving around. Get dressed and come to the kitchen.”

  His footsteps faded away and she let out a heavy sigh. Either she wanted to be his juguete full time, or she didn’t. She thought about the last few days and the pleasures she’d received. She slipped into the clothes, but left her breasts behind the material. She pulled on the boots and started toward the kitchen, wondering who was going to see her half naked, as her Master liked her to be.

  Diego turned toward the door as she walked in. He hid a grin, and pointed to the table.

  “Say hello to our guests, Eric Neal and Angel Vega. And before you ask, they’re not here for an interview.”

  “Good morning.” She felt exposed in her clothing. Both of them were wearing jeans and sweaters. The only thing that would have set them off as a BDSM couple was the velvet choker that Angel wore around her neck.

  “Good morning,” Eric replied. “We brought food to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?” Sorcha turned to Diego. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Well, the ever efficient Ward had already found Janice Monroe when we were coming back to town. She was on her way to Santa Fe at the same time we were, and she had the tape. A special grand jury is meeting right now. Jaymes should be in custody before the end of the day, charged with murder, and conspiracy to commit murder.”

  Sorcha yelped. “Fantastic! My story?”

  “Ward said to tell you he’d talk to you tonight, in plenty of time for you to make the morning papers.”

  “That doesn’t guarantee they’ll buy it from me.”

  “They will if they want it tomorrow morning,” Diego said. “He’s not talking to anyone else.”

  “The men who were chasing us?”

  “In the hospital, banged up but still breathing. Damnit. Not talking, but they will be when they realize they’re in deep, deep trouble.”

  Sorcha launched herself at Diego. He caught her and hugged her close, both of them laughing.

  “But what about Tony?” She pushed back slightly.

  “I’m working on that, baby. But I can’t promise anything.”