Auctioned to Protect [The Spectrum Auctions 2] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Doris O'Connor

  Laura’s eyes filled with tears again and Slade’s posture softened. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms.

  “Anything for you, my pet.” The look he threw at Mike could only be described as ice cold, yet it warmed up Mike’s frozen heart. If ever there was a man more protective of the woman he loved, that look said it all.

  “This is not over, Mike.”

  Mike nodded.

  “I know it isn’t, but I am sorry.”

  Scarlett’s sharp intake of breath made him look up at her and something shifted inside of him. That awful burden he’d been carrying for the last fifteen years lightened under the quiet understanding in her deep green eyes.

  Scarlett crouched down and moved the cushion off his groin.

  “Let’s get you out of this, Mike.”

  Chapter Eight

  The emotional pain Scarlett saw in Mike’s blue eyes took her breath away, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Slade left. Not that she could blame him, exactly. Laura carried a shedload of guilt with her over the death of her parents. Guilt that had been exacerbated by Mike’s seeming blame on Laura.

  Slade had worked hard on curing Laura of that guilt, but it was pretty damn obvious that Mike carried his own burden of remorse over what had happened so long ago.

  It was also pretty obvious that she had left him in the harness for too long. Mike was a big guy and he went white when she released him out of his bondage as gently as she could.

  “Breathe through the pain, my boy. In, out, there you go, just let it all go.”

  Mike pushed her helping hand away and scrambled to his feet. The way he towered over made her feel small and feminine, and his scowl made her heart flutter. He was utterly furious, yet he stood there, head bowed, and waited for instructions. She handed him a fresh blanket to cover up and he accepted it with a grateful smile.

  “Follow me, Mike. I think we’ve done more than enough for your first time. Time to get you out of here.”

  He regained some of his swagger by the time they reached the lockers, and the wide-eyed attendant handed Mike the key.

  Scarlett shrugged into her coat, perfectly happy in her club attire, but Mike could hardly leave the club naked. A fuzzy feeling spread through her belly at the thought of a naked Mike at her disposal out of the club. She had no intention of ever taking on another full-time submissive, but damn it if that visual wasn’t appealing.

  The vision of a fully dressed Mike appearing moments later was another far too appealing sight. From the scuffed army boots, to the faded jeans that clung to his tree-trunk thighs and hugged the impressive bulge at his groin, to the checkered button-down shirt he’d left open at the top. His biceps bulged out of the short sleeves, and along with the leather jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder and the motor bike helmet he carried in one hand, completed the bad-boy look.

  He looked good enough to eat, but his eyes showed his wariness and when they stepped out of the club he instantly went on high alert. Stepping in front of her, his eyes scanned the car park, and he wouldn’t let her past until he seemed satisfied that all was well.

  “Really? Is all this necessary?” Scarlett asked and Mike grunted his response.

  “We’re not in the club anymore, and this is my job. There is a threat to your person. You’re damn fucking right this is necessary. Get in your car and I’ll follow you on my bike. Don’t even think about arguing the point. I’m seeing you safely home.”

  He crowded her in against a parked car and Scarlett had to look a long way up to judge his expression. All that leashed aggression sent a flutter of feminine need down her spine. If ever there was a man she would consider giving up control to, if only briefly, then that was Mike. Testosterone positively poured off his big frame now as his gaze bored into hers.

  “I’m good at what I do, and I’ll keep you safe, but I need your cooperation for this. Do you think you could give me that?” His harsh expression softened and parts of Scarlett just melted when he added a hoarse, “My Lady.”

  He must have read her acceptance in her eyes, because he smiled and stepped back. Scarlett crossed the short distance to her car, and a powerful bike engine roared into life behind her. She turned round just in time to see Mike mount the BMW and she whistled through her teeth. Not only at the poetry in motion that was his denim-clad ass and the way the big machine set between his legs, but also at the beauty of the bike. It suited him and Mike flashed her a cocky grin when he caught her staring.

  Scarlett’s lips twitched in amusement, and she turned her back on him, got into her car, and drove off. Traffic was light this late in the evening and they got to her block of flats in no time at all. Every time Scarlett looked into her rearview mirror, her smile deepened, because Mike was right on her trail. There was something so virile about a man in charge of a powerful bike, and Scarlett’s hormones went into overdrive. Mike seemed to be walking, talking Viagra to her system, and as he was being stubborn and following her home, it would be positively rude to not invite him in for some bondage and tea biscuits.

  By the time she parked her car, Mike was there opening the door for her, and then helping her out of the car by her elbow. Normally speaking Scarlett would have protested at this handling, but something in Mike’s demeanor stopped her. Like it or not, this was his job, and after the frank and heated discussion she’d had with Slade, she wasn’t too proud to accept the protection. The guy who was after her clearly had a screw loose and folks could get hurt in the process. She would never live with herself if one of her friends got hurt because she was too stubborn to accept the protection offered. Besides, she got the distinct impression that Mike could be just as stubborn as her, and he would do his job whether she wanted him to or not.

  Mike had rushed her inside before she’d even realized and she was still fumbling for her key when Mike spun her around and crashed her into the wall with enough force to make her see stars.

  “What the fuck, Mike?” Her head hurt where she’d bashed it against the wall and she had to blink twice to make sense of what she was seeing. Mike held her against the wall with one arm across her shoulders and in his free hand he held a handgun Where the hell had he hidden that?

  “The door is open, Scarlett. I’m getting you out of here. Move, now!”

  The sharp command in his tone galvanized her into action and she only caught a glimpse of her slightly ajar front door before Mike dragged her down the stairs and all but slammed her into her car.

  “Lock the doors. I’m going back in.”

  He produced a radio out of his leather jacket and called for urgent back up, mouthed to her to stay, and sprinted back off into her building.

  Blood rushed in Scarlett’s ears, and despite Mike’s instructions, she got back out of the car, grabbed the baseball bat she kept in the boot, and went after him. If that bastard was in her home, there was no fucking way she would stay behind like some insipid weakling of a female. That was not who she was anymore. She would have the bastard’s teeth.

  Adrenaline carried her back up the stairs, the distant wailing of police sirens a reassuring sound. It seemed if one of their own called in, they at least responded pronto. Some of her bravado left her when she saw her open door. An unbelievable stench hit her nose the minute she stepped over the threshold and she held her breath as terror filled her lungs.

  No, please, god no.

  A masculine arm round her waist stopped her, but she had to see. She had to.

  “Scarlett, don’t. You really don’t want to see that.” With strength she didn’t know she had, Scarlett elbowed Mike right in the solar plexus and ground her stilettos in his shin, and his hold on her loosened just enough for her to wriggle out of his grasp.

  Scarlett entered the scene of devastation that was her once cozy living room and screamed.

  * * * *

  Mike caught her when she fell and wordlessly carried her back out of her flat. His team arrived as he shouldered the door open to the outside, and he briefly gave
them a run down.

  “Secure the flat. He’s long gone. We’ll need forensics, and a clean-up team. There is a…” He glanced down at the now glassy-eyed and limp form of Scarlett in his arms and crunched his teeth.

  “Let me get her settled in the car first.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  A look of understanding passed between Mike and his second-in-command, and Smithy stepped out of his way.

  Scarlett put up no resistance at all when he placed her in the back of the unmarked police car and wrapped a blanket around her. She simply stayed put and stared into space and that scared the shit out of him.

  “Scarlett, My Lady?” he asked, and she turned her head, but seemed to look straight through him. An ice-cold hand squeezed his heart and she shook her slightly to no avail. “I’m debriefing my team and then I’m taking you home to my place okay? You can’t stay here.”

  A single tear ran a zigzag path down her cheek. That wordless response tore at his heart, and made him want to tear the perp who did that limb from fucking limb.

  His team’s grim expressions reflected his mood when he caught up with them again.

  “That’s a fucking mess in there. Who does shit like that, boss?”

  Luke, the newest and youngest member of his team, looked decidedly green around the gills, and Mike smiled grimly.

  “Get used to it, man. There are some sick bastards in this world, and this one seems particularly unhinged.”

  He had to be.

  Mike shut his eyes to clear his mind of the bloody visions. He’d known from the minute he’d entered the flat that something awful had gone down. He’d expected a corpse but what he’d found had perhaps been worse.

  Blood had been splattered all over the inside of Scarlett’s surprisingly feminine living room. Decorated in shades of purple and pink interspersed with cream, he could tell that a lot of thought and love had gone into making this a home. A collection of porcelain dolls sat on the window seat, their alabaster complexions marked by crimson stains of blood. The flowery cushions of the settee had been ripped to shreds, trampled into the ground and covered with excrement, and there was a bloody trail leading from the kitchen table to the wall holding the cuckoo clock.

  Under that kitschy piece Scarlett’s cat had been nailed to the wall. Spread eagled, with his guts torn open and trailing down the wall in a grueling display of cruelty, his severed head had lain on the floor. On the wall written in excrement had been these words.

  You’re next, you kinky bitch.

  No wonder Scarlett was shutting down. Mike didn’t particularly like cats, but he could appreciate the effect witnessing one’s beloved pet like that would have a on a person. Even one as strong-willed as Scarlett—only she wasn’t that strong, was she? What had Laura said to him? Don’t mess with Scarlett’s emotions, she’s fragile.

  He glanced across at her still form in the car and he sighed and addressed his team.

  “I want this bastard found like yesterday. Step up your efforts. The owner has given us full access to the club’s files. The answer has got to be in there somewhere, or in Scarlett’s past. This shit just got fucking personal.”

  “Agreed, boss. We’ll go over her past again, but there isn’t much to tell. Outside of the club she doesn’t seem to have had any relationships to speak off. Keeps to herself, according to the neighbors, always friendly and helpful. No gentleman callers. Beats me why she’s been targeted.”

  Mike nodded and swore.

  “There’s something we’re missing here, something so obvious it’s staring us in the fucking face. Not related to the club maybe…”

  “That’s possible, Sir, but the commissioner—”

  “Call it a hunch, but I think the commissioner is a red herring. Nothing further has been done in that direction, and this”—he thumped his finger back at the flats—“this smells of a personal and very specific attack. We need to approach this from a different angle, boys. I’m gonna take her home to mine.”

  “Is that wise, sir?”

  Mike rounded on Smithy, and the man took a step back.

  “Like I said, this shit just got personal. No one messes with those I care about. Got it?”

  “Crystal, boss.”

  Mike left his team to do what they did best, put in a call to Slade to fill him in on the goings-on, and slid behind the steering wheel.

  A glance in the rear view mirror showed him that Scarlett had not moved. Unseeing, she stared into space and he swore and put his foot down. The sight of an unmarked police car following at a distance with one of his team behind them on his bike brought a grim smile to his face. There was order in procedures at least, even if his private life was taking a nose dive down the fucking toilet.

  He didn’t need to be this close to Scarlett. It messed with his brain, but he couldn’t leave her on her own either. This quiet, listless version was not the vibrant woman he’d met and admired in the club. Even when she scared the shit out of him, like the first time he’d met her, he’d admired her inner strength, had responded to that on an instinctive level he couldn’t even begin to explain to himself.

  This quiet mouse was not the Scarlett he’d come to appreciate. He couldn’t leave her at a hotel somewhere, watched over by some faceless copper. No, she was his responsibility. She was his Lady.

  He thumped the steering wheel in frustration.

  “I’ll have you home soon, My Lady. You’ll feel better after a bath and some food.”

  Nothing, not even a flicker of recognition. The pattern continued when he got Scarlett home. He had to bodily move her from spot to spot, and she’d just stay there, not once acknowledging him and meekly doing as she was told.

  She’d eaten the simple sandwich he’d prepared and had dutifully drunk the sweet tea, which had put some color back in her cheeks, but she hadn’t said a word.

  It was frustrating the hell out of Mike and undressing her to put her in the bath had been an exercise in torture. With every creamy and slight curve of her body he peeled out of her catsuit, his dick hardened despite the earlier abuse it had suffered.

  Now wrapped in his bath robe, which completely swamped her tiny body, he was patting her hair dry and something inside him snapped.

  Fuck this, being nice wasn’t working. He’d have to be cruel to be kind.

  “What was your cat’s name, Scarlett?” he asked, and Scarlett stiffened in front of him.

  “I’ve asked you a question. What was the name of your slaughtered cat? I need it for my report.”

  A shudder went through Scarlett’s body and Mike gave a fist pump, even as her gaze connected with his and the pain in her eyes made his skin crawl. He hated to be the one to do this to her, but at least she showed a reaction now.

  “Come on, I haven’t got all evening. I need—”

  The punch to his mouth caught him unawares as Scarlett shot out of the chair and screeched at him.

  “What the fuck? How dare you ask me that now, you–you…” The rest of her tirade descended into big heaving sobs and Mike pulled her in close. Ignoring her tiny fists trying to beat the crap out of him, he swept her off her feet and sat down on his couch and cradled her close.

  “That’s it, My Lady. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just let it all out now. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

  Scarlett stiffened in his arms and tried to push away, but he held her tighter. One punch hit his already swollen eye and he flinched and Scarlett froze.

  “Shit, I didn’t mean to. I can’t even take care of my cat, how the hell am I supposed to…stupid ass excuse of a Domme I am. I—”

  Mike shut her up by kissing her, and she went limp in his arms. The taste of her salty tears on his tongue spoke of her despair and he broke the kiss and went back to simply holding her.

  How long they sat like that with her crying her eyes out until she seemed to have no more tears left, he couldn’t determine. Too caught up in the moment with her, he battled his own emotions. Laura had cried like that the
day their parents had died, and the more tears she’d shed, the more those tears had hardened his heart, until it was frozen under so many layers of guilt he hadn’t recognized the guy staring back at him from the mirror the next morning.

  “None of this is your fault, My Lady. I promise you I’ll get the swine who did this to—”

  “Eric.” Scarlett’s voice sounded very frail against his chest and stopped him from continuing. “His name was Eric. He was the runt of the litter, and I fell in love with him. He was such a character. He’d wait for me every night when I came home and he loved his baths. Imagine that, a cat that liked baths.”

  She raised her red-rimmed eyes to his and he cupped her face and forced a smile on his lips.

  “I’d like to have seen that, though if it means sharing a bath with you I can see the attraction.”

  That brought a slight curve to Scarlett’s full lips.

  “Thank you for taking care of me. It should have been the other way round. I pushed you hard in the club and…”

  Her eyes widened when Mike swore.

  “Bullshit. After what happened to you tonight, most women would need sedation, quite frankly. You’re amazing, Scarlett, and I can look after myself. This”—he gestured to his eye—“is nothing. I’ve had far worse, and besides I kinda deserved that one. I was a complete ass to Laura and Slade, too. I wouldn’t blame them if neither ever talked to me again.”

  “They love you, Mike, and when you love someone you don’t just give up on them.”

  Something tightened inside Mike’s chest at the use of the l word. People branded it around far too easily and it usually meant he ran a mile, especially when a female uttered those words, but he couldn’t run from Scarlett.

  So, instead he shrugged his shoulders, earning himself a punch in the belly and he grinned at the re-emergence of the old Scarlett.