To Save Sir (Doms of Decadence Book 7)

by Laylah Roberts

  “Hear what on the news?” She looked at Curt in alarm. “What is it? Is it my parents?”

  “Let her sit down first,” Curt grumbled and took hold of her arm, leading her to the sofa, away from Travis.

  The other man gave him a knowing look. That was the problem working with Doms, they didn’t miss much.

  “Curt, what is it?” She gave him a frantic look, and he wished he could shield her from this, make it all okay. He knelt in front of her and reached out to clasp her hands in his. All their earlier arguments and irritations faded. She clung to him.

  “Baby, it’s your dad.” His gut clenched, knowing the pain he was going to cause her.

  “Something’s happened to him? Why didn’t you tell me right away?” She jumped to her feet, then groaned and swayed.

  “Hey! Easy.” He stood and grasped her shoulders, holding her steady. “I knew you should’ve gone to the hospital. Travis, get the car started, we’re taking her in.”

  “No. I’m fine. I just stood up too quickly. I need to know, Curt. Is my dad hurt?”

  Curt shook his head and pressed her onto the sofa once more. “He’s not hurt. Jenna, he’s been arrested.”

  Arrested? What?

  No. There had to be some mistake.

  “Arrested? What for? Are you certain?” Why hadn’t her mother called? “Where’s my phone? Oh, drat, it’s still at the clinic. I forgot it. I-I need to call my mother.” Oh, God, she’ll be a mess. And without her father around it would be up to her to calm her mother down. Although, there was no chance in hell she’d achieve that.

  “I’ll go and get your phone for you,” Travis reassured her.

  “Okay, good. Thanks.” She rubbed her head, trying to think. “Wait, what was he arrested for?” This had to be a mistake.

  Curt shared a look with Travis, which she couldn’t decipher. She tensed, knowing it wasn’t going to be good. Of course, it wasn’t good, her father had been arrested for God’s sake.

  Curt took a deep breath then tightened his hold on her. “Supplying arms to terrorists.”

  “What? But . . . what . . . that’s ridiculous,” she stumbled over her words, almost stuttering. “How could they possibly think my father is dealing in arms trading? The company he runs builds parts for airplanes. We don’t make weapons.”

  “But his company ships things all over the world,” Travis pointed out. “The FBI and ATF believe he’s been shipping weapons overseas to a dealer who supplies arms to terrorist groups across the Middle East and Africa.”

  “That’s crazy. How would he even get ahold of any weapons?”

  “So, you’ve never heard him talk about any of this?” Travis asked, looking at her intently. “Never heard him speak of someone called The Brit?”

  “The Brit? What? Who’s he? I’ve never heard him say anything about any of this. Curt, this has to be a mistake, right?” He knew her father. He knew he wouldn’t be capable of this.

  “Do you know Doug Shipman?” Travis asked.

  “Yes, he’s a good friend of Daddy’s. We often went on summer vacations together. His family owns . . .” she trailed off as it hit her.

  “Shipman Arms Manufacturing,” Travis finished. “The feds have also arrested Shipman on suspicion of supplying arms.”

  “Oh, God, I feel ill. It can’t be right. Are you sure Daddy was a part of it? Maybe it was all done without his knowledge.”

  “Maybe,” Curt told her, but she sensed his doubt. He thought this was true.

  “FBI and ATF agents are currently searching the buildings and warehouses belonging to your father’s company. It will take a while, but then we’ll know if they find anything,” Travis told her.

  “He was a marine.” She stared at Curt, wishing he’d tell her this was all some stupid joke. But he just watched her steadily, the look on his face resolute.

  “This is no joke, is it?” she whispered.

  “No, baby.”

  She looked up at Travis. “I need my phone. I don’t have a landline and I have to call my mother.”

  “You don’t have a landline?” Curt asked. “What if your cell dies or you forget it like today?”

  She pressed the palms of her hands against her stinging eyes. She really didn’t have the energy to fight with Curt right now. She needed some time to herself to think. She just couldn’t believe this of her father. She couldn’t.

  “Curt, maybe give her a break, huh?” Travis said.

  She moved her hands away from her eyes and gave him a grateful look.

  “I’ll go get your phone, Jenna. Just think about whether you remember anything your father told you. Anything you might have overheard.”

  She shook her head, staring at Travis in amazement. “I didn’t know anything about this. Is that why you’re here? Because you think I’m guilty of something?”

  “Nobody thinks you’re guilty of anything.” Curt said, glaring at Travis.

  “Of course not. But if you have any information that could lead to finding The Brit we need to know.”

  “Travis,” Curt said in a warning voice.

  “Why? Do you think that would help my father?”

  “Perhaps,” Travis allowed. “The feds might go easier on him.”

  “If he did this,” she said coldly. “You sound like you’ve found him guilty already.”

  Travis grimaced. “I’ll go get your phone.”

  Once Travis was gone, she stared up at Curt. “You believe it? That he did this?”

  His face shut down, becoming unreadable, and she had her answer.

  “You do believe it.”

  “I don’t know, Jenna. I’ve known David a long time and, at first, I thought it was preposterous, but there have been some things that didn’t add up. Like why was everyone else in the village in Sudan killed except for you?”

  “But . . . what has that got to do with anything? They took me because they wanted my father to pay a ransom.”

  “How did they know who you were? And why weren’t any instructions sent to your father about how to pay the ransom? Even the ransom amount was odd.”

  “Do you think my kidnapping had something to do with my dad?”

  He looked away for a moment.

  “Curt?” she pressed.

  He faced her. “We think you were kidnapped because of your father’s dealings with this guy called The Brit. He’s on Interpol’s and the FBI’s most wanted lists for supplying weapons to terrorist groups. They believe some of the weapons he shipped were used to blow up the US Embassy in Chad. The nickname is because of rumors that he has a British accent. But no one has ever seen him. No one knows who he is.”

  “And you really believe my father sent weapons to this guy? Weapons that Doug Shipman’s company manufactured. That he sold weapons to this man who is arming terrorists?” She rubbed her stomach. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with my kidnapping.”

  “Remember the man you said spoke perfect English and you thought he had an—”

  “Accent. Oh, God, that was him? But why would he kidnap me if he was working with my father?”

  “I don’t know that. But the feds seem to think your father is involved with him. Perhaps your father owed him something. Or your father failed to send him something. This could all be wrong, of course.”

  “My father would never do anything to put me in danger.”

  “No. And I suspect he settled the debt when you were kidnapped. But remember how hurt you were that he didn’t support you going to Sudan?”

  “Yes, but he could have just been concerned for my safety. He loves me.”

  “I know he does. And we could be wrong about this. Your father could be innocent.”

  But she knew Curt didn’t really think that. He thought her father was guilty and he was the reason she’d been kidnapped.

  Could this day get any worse?

  “So, you came here to tell me all of this in person?”

  “Yes. And because you’re going to need help
, Jenna. Whether your father is guilty or not, there are going to be a lot of angry people over this. Your dad’s company is going to suffer, the shareholders and employees will be affected. Then there are people whose loved ones have died overseas fighting terrorism or who were hurt or killed in the Embassy bombing. The Brit has been linked to several incidents across Africa and the Middle East.”

  “And you think these people will be angry at me?” She had nothing to do with any of this.

  “You could end up as a target.”

  “Even if Daddy isn’t guilty?” Her head pounded at the thought.

  “Yes. You know how people are. Sometimes they want to believe the worst. And once this story breaks, reporters will be hounding you for an interview. You’re going to need protection.”

  “And what? You’re offering to protect me?”

  “It’s what I do. I work as a bodyguard and investigator. I’m here to help you, Jenna.”

  “You want me to hire you?”

  He scowled. “I’m not after your damn money.”

  “But you work for Black-Gray. You can’t just work for free.”

  “I’ll take leave if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  It wasn’t. She couldn’t think. “Why is Travis here? He doesn’t work for Black-Gray.”

  “Travis came to us with this information before your father was arrested. He has a contact in the FBI who wanted information about your kidnapping. He gave Travis a heads up in return.”

  “Why did he come to you about this?”

  “He knew we were family.”

  Right, family. Because of Amelia.

  She blew out a sigh. “I don’t expect you to disrupt your life because of all of this, Curt. You should go back to Dallas. Both of you.”

  He shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere.”

  Those words filled her with relief. She should be strong enough to deal with all this on her own, but right now she really didn’t to be alone.

  She rubbed at her head. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Look, this has all been a shock and you can’t do anything right now. Why don’t you go have that soak? Then you can call your mother and we can talk about where to go from here.”

  Right, because a bath was going to make everything better.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Eight

  Jenna lay back in the bath, thoughts whirling around in her head. She should be attempting to relax and relieve the ache in her tight muscles, but she couldn’t focus on anything except what her father must be going through right now.

  Travis had returned with her phone as she’d been running the bath. She’d tried to get through to her mother without success. Eventually, she’d managed to get ahold of her aunt, who had taken her mother back to her house after she’d been interviewed by FBI and ATF agents, apparently both groups were involved in this case.

  According to her aunt, her mother was an absolute mess. Jenna had figured as much. She’d been given a sedative, so she wouldn’t be able to talk to her until morning.

  She should go home, but just the thought of it made her stomach tighten with dread. Going back to Dallas would involve dealing with public scrutiny and condemnation. It would mean having to look after her mother and cope with her dramatics. It could also mean confronting her father about whether he was guilty.

  She shouldn’t have any questions in her mind. A good daughter shouldn’t. She should just believe her father was innocent. But there was a little niggle in the back of her mind that wouldn’t go away.

  She didn’t want to return to the city. She wanted to stay here in Haven where it felt like nothing bad could touch her. Out there, she’d be on her own. Well, she’d have Curt. But for how long? No matter what he said he couldn’t just take time off from his job. And while she had some money, she knew hiring Black-Gray would be costly. If her father’s assets were frozen, she might need to help support her mother.

  Jesus, what a mess.

  Finally, when the water was cooling, Jenna rose. Earlier, Curt had wanted to help her in and out of the bath. She blushed at the thought. He was completely overreacting to what had happened earlier today.

  She studied herself in the mirror, wincing at the big, nasty bruise on her hip. Her elbows were scraped raw, but the cuts weren’t deep. She wasn’t badly injured but she looked drawn, pale, and fragile.

  She clenched her hands into fists. Damn it. She’d worked long and hard to build up her strength, to find her old confidence and courage, and to ensure she wouldn’t be a victim again. Yet, that’s exactly what she looked like.

  Not again. She wasn’t going to let this push her back into that mindset where she jumped at shadows and thought everyone was out to hurt her.

  Was she strong enough to return to Dallas, though? Would she feel like that victim again? But, then, how would everyone around here react once they heard about her father?

  You don’t know he’s guilty.

  At least she hadn’t told anyone who her father was. Hopefully they wouldn’t put two and two together. To begin with, anyway.

  Eventually, she’d have to face this mess. But not yet. Maybe for a little while longer she could just be a small-town doctor.

  Yeah, and what about the two great hulks hanging out in your living room? How was she going to explain them?

  The knock on the door startled her, and she let out a small cry, banging her knee against the handle of the cabinet door as she suddenly turned.

  Crap, as if she didn’t have enough bruises? She glared at the door as she rubbed her throbbing knee.

  “Jenna! Jenna, are you okay?” Curt asked through the door.

  “I was until you scared me half to death!” she snapped.

  The door handle turned, and she was thankful she’d thought to lock it. Normally, she didn’t even shut the door. But then she wasn’t used to having guests. Her parents hadn’t been to visit her yet; there had always been some reason they couldn’t come. It was probably a blessing. No doubt her mother would find fault with everything, and Daddy would work the whole time anyway.

  “Did you hurt yourself? Damn it, why is this door locked?”

  “Because I’m taking a bath and I don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Are you naked?”

  What?

  “Yes,” she told him, hoping that would send him away.

  “Good.”

  Good? What did that mean? Her body tightened, heat filling it. He wanted to see her naked?

  “Don’t get dressed.”

  Was this happening? She stared at the door, all thoughts of her sore knee fading. What would he do if she opened it and greeted him stark naked? Would he pull her into his arms and kiss her, squeeze her ass, maybe give it a few smacks? She shivered at the thought. What would it be like to be over Curt’s knee as he spanked her butt? What would it be like if he ordered her to her knees then told her to suck him off? Or if he blindfolded and bound her? That thought would terrify her with someone else, but not with Curt. He was so protective that at times it was smothering, but she knew he would never do anything to harm her.

  Physically, anyway. Her emotions were a whole different story.

  “Just put on a robe. I have some antibacterial cream to put on your injuries and I want to check you over before you go to bed.”

  Right, he didn’t want her naked because he had the urge to make mad, passionate love to her . . . or, hell, even to just fuck her.

  He wanted to put cream on her boo-boos and put her to bed.

  When would she learn not to get her hopes up? Not to wish for more than he was willing to give?

  “I’m fine, Curt.” She picked up the soft tracksuit pants and tank top she’d grabbed earlier and pulled them on. Despite her state of mind, the bath had helped ease the tension in her muscles, and she could move around more freely.

  Still, she found her energy was quickly draining. She hoped like hell she could sleep once she closed her eyes, though she had a feeling she’d
be up late, worrying.

  When she opened the door, she found him standing there, arms over his chest. Sure enough, he held a tube of antibacterial cream in one hand. He scowled as he saw her.

  “I told you to get into a robe.”

  “And I told you, I’m fine.”

  “You didn’t get checked over properly, you could be seriously injured.”

  “Curt, I’m a doctor. I’d know if I was badly injured.”

  He shook his head. “You might not. I’ve heard of guys who were shot, carrying on as if they were fine then, as soon as the adrenaline crash hit them, boom, dead.”

  “Boom, dead? Really? Are you sure about that?” Although she was skeptical, she was also the first to admit the human body could do amazing things.

  “Yes, it’s true.”

  “Either way, it doesn’t matter because I haven’t been shot. I fell over. Happens to people all the time.”

  “You didn’t fall, you were pushed.”

  “Look, if it makes you feel better, you can put the damn cream on my elbows. They’re not that bad.” She bent her arms to show him. He studied her elbow carefully.

  “Come on, I’ll get them fixed up.”

  He gestured for her to follow him down the stairs and she walked behind him into the empty living room. “Where’s Travis?”

  “He went to find some dinner for us. Your phone has been buzzing. I put it over there.” He nodded at the table.

  “Oh, thanks.” She quickly looked at the messages, all from her friends, checking in with her after today. Warmth filled her as she realized how many people cared about her.

  “You might need to change your number if reporters start harassing you.”

  She put the phone back down and sat on the sofa, sighing as he began to gently apply cream to her elbows. She tried to ignore how her body reacted to his closeness. Honestly, she shouldn’t even have the energy to get aroused.

  “That’s going to be a real pain.”

  He placed some bandages on her elbows then leaned back to look up at her. “I know. But they’re persistent. You need to prepare yourself for that.”

  “Then I guess it doesn’t matter if I keep the same number or not.”