Doctor Heal Thyself [Internet Bonds Series Book 5]

by Christy Poff

  "Mistress Yelena to you. Now—sit!” she commanded, pressing the knife against Stasia's back. “Do it, or I'll slice you up right now."

  * * * *

  Stasia watched Ross and Sheridan—happy and owning the world. A little nervous, Stasia realized she had everything in her own right. Who else could lay claim to her master and her slave being their own couple? Others wished they could have the special relationship the three of them had.

  Of course, she had Ridge, who she loved dearly. Devoted to her, he filled her life while stepping aside when her master called or she spent time with her new slave. Ridge didn't mind the unusual side to their life together.

  She had seen him leave the ballroom, figuring he'd either gone to the bathroom or his room. A part of her missed him but, like a good slave, he would dutifully return.

  A waiter slipped her a note.

  Mistress,

  I've found a secluded room where I can serve your desires at the end of the other wing. I'll be waiting ... Ridge

  Stasia knew exactly where he meant. She slipped from the reception, leaving the note on the table and went straight to an abandoned apartment at the other end of the mansion. Ross had told her several guest suites had never been opened after the previous owner bought the ranch and he hadn't had the time after he took possession.

  Finding the one Ridge referred to, she went inside.

  "Ridge?"

  Looking around, she saw an empty room, though the furnishings had to be ages old.

  "Ridge?” she called again, turning toward the door, gasping at the sight of Yelena standing between her and the exit while brandishing a long, sharp knife.

  "Not Ridge, Slave Stasia. Move over there,” Yelena ordered, pushing her to an oak desk chair.

  "Yelena? What the hell?"

  "Mistress Yelena to you. Now, sit!” she commanded, pushing the knife against Stasia's back. “Do it, or I'll slice you up right now."

  Stasia sat in the chair watching every move Yelena made, plus the knife. Yelena cuffed her hands firmly to the arms of the chair, then strapped her ankles to the legs.

  "Yelena, what are you doing?"

  Yelena pressed tape over Stasia's mouth.

  "I am the one in control here, so shut up."

  Stasia's heart slammed into her chest. Remembering the message on her answering machine, Stasia knew the other woman had lost control.

  "I guess you're wondering what's going on. Well, think about it for a while. You'll have plenty of time."

  Stasia watched Yelena leave. She fought the restraints holding her to the chair. Willing herself to be calm, she tried to relax, only the situation got the better of her as she tried screaming. This only served to tire her out.

  What the hell is going on? Why? Oh, my God! Sheridan.

  * * * *

  Yelena left Stasia for her next target. She needed to find the right sap to help her but money always spoke volumes, so she figured it would be easy. Slipping into the service entrance, she found one of the waiters smoking a cigarette. She saw his face when he saw her, knowing she'd found her patsy—one who would work for free.

  "Please, ma'am, don't say anything. I could get fired for this."

  "I won't, as long as you do something for me in return."

  "Anything."

  She told him what she wanted him to do, then left to mingle on the fringes of the main crowd. This gave her ample opportunity to watch the guests of honor. Watching the receiving line had sickened her, much worse than the earlier display. Only a little while longer...

  She had given the waiter a specific time frame in her instructions. She checked her watch, then slowly made her way into position. Yelena's hand went to the switchblade in her pocket, a comforting feel.

  The sight of the newlyweds all lovey-dovey fueled her rage more. She checked the time, pulled out the knife and opened it, hiding it along the length of her forearm. Walking behind several guests, she came up behind the bride and nonchalantly waited.

  Suddenly, at nine on the dot, the ballroom plunged into darkness. She made her move, grabbing Sheridan Beckham and pressing the knife to her throat.

  "If you want to live, you won't make a sound and you'll come with me,” she hissed in a harsh whisper.

  They started toward the terrace door, Yelena's height overwhelming Sheridan's shorter stature. The moonlight gave her enough light to move her captive across the lawn toward the end of the wing where her other victim waited.

  "That's a good slave—blind obedience might just save your despicable life."

  Chapter 13

  "Somebody check the electrical room!” Ross yelled, reaching out for Sheridan.

  "Sheridan,” he called, trying to locate his bride. As suddenly as they went out, the lights came back on, illuminating the huge ballroom.

  "Sheridan!” he called out again, unable to find her.

  He looked around the immediate area knowing she couldn't have gone too far away in the short time they stood in darkness.

  "Sheridan!"

  The crowd looked around but no one saw the bride or her mistress of honor. Some suggested they went off together to put together a last minute surprise for the groom but Ross knew them—one of them would have said something.

  Warren ran in, heading straight for Ross, telling him in low tones.

  "Mister Beckham, I mean, Ross, somebody deliberately shut the entire house down."

  "What the hell is going on?"

  "Ross, I found this on the head table."

  Ross read the note to Stasia and shook his head. If they had snuck off for a quick fuck, it had nothing to do with his wife's disappearance.

  "Warren, check all the cars before anyone leaves. Take this. I'm sure Major can pick up her scent."

  "And if we find it?"

  "Whoever owns the car doesn't leave until I see them. Basically, detain them—I don't give a damn who they are."

  "Yes, Ross.” Warren ran out with the napkin Sheridan had used, hoping it would be enough for his dog's sensitive nose to use. Warren had trained the German shepherd from an early age to track and he had been successful on several occasions when assisting area police departments.

  "Everyone, please bear with me. We're trying to locate my wife and her mistress of honor. I'm sure everything is all right but I feel the precautions I'm taking are warranted and will be understood. We appreciate your patience."

  "Ross, what's going on?” Anderson asked.

  "I believe my wife has been kidnapped. Warren told me the power has been deliberately cut off and considering the time it happened..."

  "What time?"

  "Nine exactly."

  "How do you know?"

  "The clock in the anteroom over there has to be manually reset. The power went off at nine."

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "Explain to everyone why Warren is having Major sniff around their cars. Tell them we've received a threat and this is follow-up to make sure it isn't acted on."

  "Honestly, Ross, what are you thinking?"

  "Right now, I don't know anything, except she would not have left me of her own free will. Someone snatched her."

  "I'll take care of the guests. If we need warrants, I'll issue them on the spot."

  "I'm hoping it won't go that far."

  Bentley joined him after Anderson left.

  "Ross?"

  "Bill, I don't know anything. I'm worried about her and the baby."

  "Could she have been sick?"

  "She would have let me know before she ran off and if she went up to our room, she would have sent word,” Ross answered impatiently.

  "I'm sorry but I want to make sure you cover all the bases. I'd hate for all this upset to be over something trivial."

  "I know what you're saying but my instincts tell me it's not. She's in danger."

  * * * *

  Sheridan's arm had been pulled behind her, a knife at her throat. She had no choice but to do as she'd been told, though she thought she recogniz
ed the voice. Whoever held her knew the house and the property since she had not been asked anything and the person had a definite place to take her.

  The full skirt of her gown didn't help her. Sheridan tried to hold it up out of her way but with only one free hand, it became difficult.

  "That's a good slave. Blind obedience might just save your despicable life,” the voice hissed.

  "Why are you..."

  "Shut up!” the voice ordered. Sheridan felt the knife pressed harder against her skin before a sting when it cut her. Her breath caught from the sudden shock.

  A few moments later, the person abducting her shoved her into what appeared to be a guest room. The moonlight lit one corner of it but she couldn't see anything to tell her what would happen next.

  Her abductor took her arm and wrenched it over her head, then the other, Sheridan feeling the cuffs bite into her wrists while her mind raced.

  "Who are you? Why are ... My, God, Yelena?"

  "Yes, it's me,” she said, pulling the zipper of her wedding gown down before removing it and leaving Sheridan in the corset and petticoat. The dress pulled away from her, Sheridan glared while watching Yelena shove it into a trashcan.

  "You don't need this anymore."

  "Why, Yelena?"

  "Because you aren't good enough to share his life,” she snapped as she attached the spreader bar to Sheridan's ankles.

  "Yelena, he sent you away and told you why. He made his choice."

  "You clouded his judgment, just like Stasia did and now you both will pay."

  "Both?"

  "Yes, both,” Yelena said, shining a flashlight on her other captive. Stasia groaned, blinded by the sudden brightness.

  "Stasia...” Sheridan gasped.

  "Since I hate to repeat myself, I will tell both of you at the same time. I am Claire Peters. Several years ago, actually a decade, I reigned as Miss Rodeo Northwest, traveling the entire circuit. At the time, we couldn't get involved with the cowboys but I fell hard for one. We kept our relationship secret for obvious reasons until one night, my husband caught us."

  Stasia groaned, obviously figuring out the ending to their captor's story.

  "He pulled my lover from bed, then left him near death in the parking lot. He took me to Mexico where we all but disappeared. One night, he flew into a rage, drunk off his ass and out to hurt someone. He came home and took it out on me. Someone called the police, who came and shot him as he went to hit me again. He died from several gunshots and I wound up in the hospital."

  "He beat Ross because of you,” Sheridan gasped.

  "Yes. He had a hellish temper."

  "And you used Ross to provoke him?"

  "At the start, yes, but I wanted Ross. My old man wouldn't divorce me. After I got my new life, I came looking and found Ross here at this ranch. I found a way to chase that bitch over there away and everything became perfect until you—the confused therapist—had to show up. I got rid of you both once—why couldn't you have stayed the fuck away from him?"

  "He came after me,” Sheridan argued.

  "Shut up!” she shrieked. “Why didn't you die in that damned explosion at your office?"

  "What?"

  Yelena grabbed a piece of tape pressing it over Sheridan's mouth.

  "Shut up! You're both history. They'll never find you here. You'll die with no one the wiser and, when I get done, no one will care."

  Yelena took the flashlight and left them in the abandoned guestroom of the Spread R Bar Ranch. Sheridan knew Stasia would agree—they needed luck to be found here and rescued from Yelena's prison. Sheridan closed her eyes, seeing Ross and praying he'd search this end of the house. She prayed for her small one's life—a life it had yet to live. Please, God, not another Beckham...

  * * * *

  Stasia heard the shuffling footsteps approaching the door to her prison. She knew who would come through the door, but prayed she was wrong. Seeing the moonlight hit the pure white of Sheridan's dress confirmed her worst fears.

  She watched Yelena take the dress after shackling Sheridan to a beam, then listened to her tale about how she came into Ross’ life and groaned. No wonder Yelena had forced Stasia away from her home. Now, Yelena held them both, vowing to have them die in this dingy place where no one would ever come because of its having been abandoned.

  Ross, please find us...

  * * * *

  Ross went up to his office, grabbing his walking stick. His leg bothered him, his limp more obvious but he refused to take anything which might take his edge away. Sitting behind his desk, he poured a double and downed it before filling the glass again.

  His phone rang and he answered it using the speaker.

  "Beckham..."

  "Ross, it's Clive."

  "What do you have?"

  "All the cars are clean and the guests have left. They've sent their sympathies and best wishes."

  "Good and thanks. Is Warren with you?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell him to start searching the grounds and the entire house. She has to be on the ranch."

  "He's already started. Erika gave him one of your wife's scarves."

  "Good. If anyone wants me, I'll be here in the office rechecking the monitors to see if I can see something or discover who's behind this."

  "I'll be riding out with the hands. Corbel's patient for work like this."

  "Thanks, Clive."

  Ross hung up, then had Garth bring him the monitoring tapes from both his room and the ground's security. Ross had Garth look at them with him to save time. Most of what they saw meant nothing and didn't help.

  He looked at his clock—Sheridan missing for two hours and nothing.

  "How could anyone miss the bride?"

  "I don't know, Ross, especially with the moonlight."

  "That's what has me bugged. It's a full moon. Someone should have seen something."

  "Ross, is everything all right? I came as soon as I heard."

  "Yelena, why are you here?"

  "I thought I could help. It's awful—your new bride kidnapped, or did she run out on you?"

  "Yelena, I told you never to return here. You..."

  "Garth, leave us."

  "You don't order my slaves around, Yelena."

  "If he wants to live, he'll leave. We need to talk."

  Ross nodded, Garth leaving the room. He headed to the monitoring room, switching on the camera and tape for Ross’ office. Then he sat back and waited to see how far Yelena would go. Ross had not said a word but his body language spoke volumes.

  "Okay, we're alone. What the fuck do you want?"

  "I want you, lover,” she said, calling him her pet name from years back.

  "What? I don't have time for this."

  "We have all the time in the world."

  "Yelena, get out!"

  "No, Ross, I won't. I lost you once in Omaha and then again a few weeks ago."

  "Omaha?"

  "We were so much in love, the sex great and..."

  "You fucking lied to me,” he accused when he realized who Yelena really was.

  "I didn't lie."

  "No, Claire, you forgot to mention your Arnold Schwarzenegger-sized husband."

  "We weren't really..."

  "Oh, yes, you were—at least, in his eyes. Do you know what he put me through? Surgeries, rehab, and loss of my livelihood, followed by the back alleys I slept in after I tried to get a substitute for the painkillers. And you sit there calmly saying you love me? Where were you then?"

  "He took me to Mexico where we disappeared."

  "What caused this?” he asked, motioning to her new face.

  "He beat me. I spent months in the hospital. This is what the plastic surgeon came up with."

  "Where'd the Latin accent come from?"

  "I adapted to my surroundings while I recovered, then I came north. I had to learn how to speak all over again."

  Ross slammed the walking stick across the desk.

  "Why the fuck didn't you stay awa
y?” he screamed.

  "I love you. I heard about this and came back to offer my help."

  "Why do I think you had something to do with it? Get it through you head, lady, I don't love you. I married Sheridan and I will move heaven and earth to get her back safely."

  "She's not good for you."

  "And you—the psychotic—are?"

  "Don't call me that, Ross. I love you."

  "I don't want your sick love."

  Yelena went to Ross, begging him.

  "Master Ross,” a pain-filled voice said. Yelena froze, Ross looking to where it came from.

  "Ridge? Are you all right?” Ross asked, limping over to him, leaning on his walking stick more.

  "Somebody hit me over the head. I just woke up in the hedge behind the house."

  "Did you see who did it?"

  "Not offhand. I saw someone about her size, right before the lights went out."

  "Yelena?"

  "You know I just got here."

  "Did you really? Are you sure you haven't been wreaking havoc all day long?"

  "Ross, I..."

  "Shut up, Yelena before I give you a punishment you won't survive."

  * * * *

  Warren had the scarf, Major getting his target. Unleashed, the dog started tracking the scent, then followed it. Warren changed his position from where he started to the terrace where Sheridan and Ross had been standing. Within minutes, the dog found Sheridan's scent and locked into it, following it to a part of the house that had not seen use in years.

  Major barked, signaling either a hit or the need for help. Warren followed several ranch hands behind them.

  "Fan out and see what you can find,” he ordered.

  Major led him to a door. Warren called the hands, needing help to remove things from in front of it. From what he could see, it had been recently put there leading him to believe they'd found Mrs. Beckham.

  He pulled out his cell phone to call Ross but the line was busy, which seemed odd considering the situation. He sent one of the hands back to the main house while the rest moved the pile of stuff from in front of the door.

  Major kept at it, following her scent. Warren shook his head. The amount of time they spent moving the pile led him to believe there had to be another entrance into the suite of rooms. He pulled Major away and tried to find another way in.