by Jools Louise
I directed Caleb to start offloading luggage after a few more minutes, and still no sight of the group leader. Walking up the steps, I frowned a little, since no one was in the main cabin. A slight sound had me going to the rear cabin. Instantly, the sight that greeted me had me raging—Max, facedown on the bed, wrists shackled by heavy chains. A man was just curling up a short whip with several thin strands and was raising his hand as if to strike. Geez, what was it about Max that attracted these types of men? Hadn’t he been through enough?
“Max!” I said sharply, seeing Max flinch and the man with the whip turn around quickly, eyebrows raised in arrogant enquiry. “Caleb needs help with the luggage.” Max pushed to the other side of the bed, shoulders hunched as though expecting a blow. I glared at the other man, staring him down until he lowered his hand, whip still clenched in it.
“Release him!” I ordered the man sharply. With a slight hesitation and an angry glare, he complied reluctantly.
I held out my hand to Max, and he grasped it, brushing past me in a blur of movement as he escaped the plane.
I looked over the new arrival in contempt.
“Doctor Wheaton, I presume?” I asked mockingly.
My eyes took in the large frame, broad shoulders and swarthy face of the man in front of me. He was as tall as Marcus, over six feet in height and looked powerful. His eyes were a murky hazel-green, his short blond hair buzzed at the sides and perfectly styled on top. Those eyes held arrogance, contempt, and his otherwise-handsome face was marred by the sneer on his lips.
“Your timing leaves something to be desired. Max and I were just enjoying some private time together. He’s quite the little slave boy.” My fist clenched and my eyes narrowed on the man at this outrageous claim.
I had seen in Max’s downcast expression of utter misery. He had been far from aroused and his whole demeanour had been one of someone cowed by a bully. I just barely controlled my urge to smack the guy’s nose with my fist.
My brows rose and I hoped my expression mirrored his.
“Mr. Wheaton, I’m sure you will have been informed of the facility this island offers. For those seeking help with mental trauma, we have developed a reputation for being a place of sanctuary. We have developed a credible reputation for rehabilitating victims of such trauma.”
The professor nodded, making a sweeping movement with his hand as if to indicate I was telling him something he already knew.
My lip curled at him in disdain.
“I’m sure a man of your…stature…is unused to people not being in awe of you. So maybe I’m the first. I am certainly not impressed by your attitude, your stature, or the pack of lies you just told. What I am aware of is that my timing appears to have been excellent, since it appears I prevented a serious assault on someone who looked to be in need of rescuing.” The professor made as if to speak. I held up one finger to stop him, sneering at his look of anger.
“You may think that everyone is here to service your incredible ego. We are not. This island provides sanctuary to those who have been abused, and to those traumatised by violent acts. You are not welcome here. I will call for someone to return you to New Zealand. We don’t need the service of bullies, thank you very much.”
Our eyes locked, his filled with rage, his knuckles white as he gripped the whip handle. In a flash of movement, he raised his hand, letting loose with a barrage of blows to my head and upper torso as he hit me again and again.
“You fucking bitch! I am master here. I do not take instructions from some fat, stupid little whore. Max is mine!”
I sank to my knees as the assault continued, my hands raised over my head to protect myself.
All of a sudden, I felt a rage inside me which burst free.
My fist clenched, two knuckles extended. I gave a sharp jab to his genitals, which he conveniently left unguarded. As he yelled out in pain, I gripped his cock in a bruising grip, twisting as hard as I could until he let go of the whip and fell to his knees, clutching his genitals as I let go. He began sobbing, cringing as he hugged himself, like a child in pain. I frowned down at him.
Warm fluid trickled down my face, and a swipe of my fingers against my forehead proved it to be blood.
I snarled at the pathetic prick writhing on the floor.
A rush of movement behind heralded the arrival of reinforcements.
“Jess, what the hell?” Louis had arrived.
I turned and met his eyes, flinching at the look in his eyes as he viewed the blood, the man on the ground and the whip, its strands tainted red.
“No!” I said sharply as Louis snarled in rage, looking ready to kill the other man.
“Take him to the bunker.” I said the words with ominous calm, my eyes meeting the deep green of Louis’s and exchanging an unspoken message with him. “And call Jackson to join us.” Louis nodded once, grimly. Hauling the big man upright, he kept a firm grip on the man’s neck and whispered something that I didn’t catch, but which had the professor flinching and nodding.
They left the cabin and I sank to my knees, shaking in reaction.
“Jess?” Max’s tremulous voice reached my ears and I sighed. I heard a gasp, then warm hands gently touching my shoulders.
“Jess, let me clean you up.” I raised my head, looking into concerned blue eyes. My mouth twisted into a rueful grimace.
“Well, that took care of him, huh?” I raised a brow, then winced at the twinge of pain from the cut there.
Max gave an involuntary chuckle, then his eyes filled with tears. He had a washcloth, and began wiping away the blood, dabbing at the cut gently. I closed my eyes in exhaustion, the adrenalin having left my body in a rush.
“What’s going to happen to him?” Max asked quietly, almost fearfully.
I locked eyes with him, studying him carefully. As I looked, I came to a sudden realisation.
“That’s the guy who hurt you before, isn’t it?” He ducked his head, shoulders slumping. A brief nod had me wrapping arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly.
“What do you think should happen to him?” I asked, murmuring the words in his ear as I pressed a light kiss to his cheek.
“You said you wanted him taken to the bunker,” Max said, shrugging.
“I want Jackson to evaluate him, and determine what the issue is with him. The bunker is somewhere we can secure him properly. I’m not sure why I think it, but I have a feeling that despite what he’s done, it goes deeper than a simple bully.” I stared at Max, wanting him to understand.
“I wanted him to suffer, at first. I wanted him to be tied down, helpless, while we did the same to him as he’s done to others. That’s not the answer. I think maybe he needs help. Probably prison time, too, but definitely he needs a psyche evaluation. Jackson is one of the best at that.” I gave Max another kiss, then cursed.
“What happened to the students? Are they okay?” I cursed again, getting to my feet.
“Caleb went with them back to the guest village. He’ll get Dean to help get them settled in.” Max hugged me as we left the cabin.
“I need to speak to Jackson, let him know what happened.” I looked at Max, wincing as I stepped down off the plane and into the brilliant sunshine.
“I want to go, too.” I frowned, then nodded as Max gave his most stubborn look. When he was in that mood, nothing would budge him.
We got on the trolley, Max driving, and made our way over to the bunker.
* * * *
Jackson was already there, waiting outside.
The bunker consisted of a doorway which led to a concrete shelter dug deep into the volcanic sub-rock beneath us. It always reminded me of the television series “Lost,” minus the hatch. On entering the place, old-fashioned lighting led along the long tunnel, sloping downward until reaching the main level. Rooms branched off from this level, including bedrooms, a kitchen, and bathrooms. A large pantry stocked a massive stock of canned foods. It was fairly luxuriously decorated, and apart from that first tunnel, on
ce inside the main structure it resembled a luxury hotel.
There were a couple of rooms which looked like they had been used as a prison of some sort, stark and bare of furniture save for a table, two chairs and a set of restraints attached to the brick wall which were in stark contrast to the rest of the rooms’ furnishings.
Jumping off the vehicle, I met Jackson’s gaze, his brown eyes looking steely as he saw the cut on my head.
I stepped closer, feeling those strong arms wrap around me. My head rested against the strong warmth of his chest and I felt Max stand behind me, hugging me as well. We stood for a few moments, inhaling each other’s familiar scent. I absorbed their strength, feeling it seep into my pores like a soothing balm.
“So, I presume that because you asked me to be here, you don’t want this guy tortured with thumb screws?” Jackson murmured drolly in my ear.
I smothered a laugh, pinching his ass in retaliation for the smart remark.
“I want you to evaluate the guy. I already did a number on his dick…I hope he feels that for days!” I raised my head and looked at him. “He acted like he’d been abused himself, but since you’re the expert, I’m going to go with what you say. I won’t forget what he’s done to Max, but…this isn’t the same vibe I got from the guy who went after Marcus. Or like my old boss. I think maybe the professor needs help.”
Jackson lifted his eyes, meeting Max’s over my head. He leaned over, giving Max a gentle kiss, and I sighed as I rested my cheek against Jackson’s chest again. Being surrounded in front and back by two of my favourite men was comforting. I made the most of it.
Jackson stepped back, caressing first my cheek and then Max’s, giving Max a second kiss.
“This is the guy from before,” Max blurted suddenly. I watched as Jackson’s eyes went from gentle warmth to hard, cold steel in an instant.
“Is that right?” he snarled, looking like he was gritting his teeth.
“Jackson, I’ll get the other therapist if you’re too close to this,” I said, gripping Jackson’s bicep firmly. He paused for a minute, then got control of his anger and his expression calmed.
“Jess, I want you to come in with me. Max, call for the other therapist. I don’t know how this is going to go. If the professor starts with the whole master-and-slave excuse, I may punch him!” Jackson’s voice lowered to a sexy growl at the end.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you this angry.” I kissed his cheek, rubbing a hand along his arm to soothe the beast.
He gave me a look.
“That’s because you were unconscious the last times.” I blinked at the succinct reply. Huh.
“Shall we?” Jackson gave a sweeping bow and allowed me to go first through the doorway into the bunker.
“You’re too kind!” I retorted, slapping his ass as I went by, hearing his chuckle in response.
Two minutes later, I was looking at one Professor Simon Wheaton, eminent marine biologist. The guy had more letters after his name than there were in the alphabet. Just proves even the most intelligent of men can be morons!
“So, I get not one, but two assholes. Do you know who I am?” The academic was nothing if not consistent. The sneer and arrogant expression were back in place. I thought maybe I should have twisted his dick just a little harder. He obviously hadn’t learned his lesson yet.
“Wheaton, my name is Jackson. I’ll be carrying out a psychological evaluation on you to determine whether or not you are fit to be transported back to your home country. It may be that you are to remain here for some time.” Jackson locked eyes with the other man. I noted a flash of fear in the other man’s eyes. Jackson’s tone implied bad things would happen if he had to stay longer.
This was when I remembered that Jackson had been a skilled soldier before he became a therapist. I really hoped the other therapist got here soon.
“Ooh! Threatening me? I am an extremely important academic. I’ll have this place shut down if you keep me here against my will.” Wheaton flinched as Jackson suddenly got in his face.
“Professor, this is my island. I make the rules, I make the laws. You came here under false pretences to hurt a very good friend of mine. Do you really think I give a fuck about what you are outside these walls?” Jackson shouted the last bit viciously. I stepped forward, my hand on Jackson’s shoulder, pulling him back.
“Jackson, calm down. The therapist is on his way. We’ll carry out the evaluation when he gets here. Step back.” He met my eyes, obviously reluctant to stand down, but then shrugged and moved away, sitting on a chair the other side of the desk.
“Mr. Wheaton. You were about to abuse our friend. You abused our friend previously. You’ve just assaulted me. You are obviously in need of some kind of therapy. If you continue to act like a prize-winning ass, I’ll turn my very good friend Jackson here loose on you. Or maybe I’ll have you tied up so Max and I can mete out some of the stuff you’ve been doing over years to your victims.”
“Victims?” Wheaton spat the word violently. “They aren’t victims. They agree to take whatever punishment is given. It’s called the BDSM culture, dear. Perfectly acceptable.”
“Mr Wheaton, it’s only acceptable if both parties are happy with the results. When the victim is traumatised rather than turned on, then it’s abuse. When the victim is not allowed to use a safe word, then it’s abuse. When you attack young men who quite clearly don’t know what the game is about, it’s abuse.” I glared at the man, staring him down.
“The only reason you’re still here and not winging your way back to New Zealand is because I need to evaluate what kind of abuse you’ve suffered.” He blinked, a flash of what could only be described as terror in his eyes.
I softened my voice.
“Max was not turned on, was not enjoying what you did. What you did constitutes torture. It constitutes abuse, since you knew he wasn’t enjoying it and you continued anyway. You’ll be going to jail for that. I’ll make sure of it.” He scowled at me, fists clenched.
“He agreed to it!” Wheaton still didn’t get it.
“He didn’t agree for it to continue. He didn’t agree when you started hurting him. But you took away his free will by preventing him from telling you that. And that’s not consensual. That’s not acceptable! And when someone did it to you? Did you enjoy being chained and helpless? Did you enjoy being beaten with no way to tell your abuser that you’d had enough? When you told that person, did they stop?” I was clutching at straws, trying to get through to him.
“What was the point?” he suddenly screamed at me, eyes wild as he abruptly snapped. “No one came, no one cared. I was just the stupid little Maori kid everyone liked to pick on. I was the poor boy that stank of piss who lived in the scary house on the hill. Nobody helped me. Nobody came to stop them. But I stopped them.” He got a scary look, like a cornered animal, in his eyes. I also saw the hint of terror still there.
Right before he launched himself at me.
Instinct took over, my knee rose, and he fell in a whimpering heap as my knee connected with his already-bruised groin.
“Do you really want to be like them all your life?” I felt pity as I stood there, watching his pitiful cries. Whatever had been done to him, it appeared to have driven him mad.
“I don’t know what abuse you’ve suffered, but if you choose it, we can get you help. What you’re doing is wrong. You aren’t that boy now, you’re an adult. A man.” I turned in surprise, since Max was the one talking.
He was staring down at the professor, blue eyes shadowed. The professor looked back, then his whole body seemed to sink into itself.
The murky green eyes closed, and he started shaking.
“I need help. I can’t stop.” I stopped Max from getting any closer, feeling my heart clench at the professor’s obvious pain. I wouldn’t put Max at risk, though. This man was capable of anything. He could lash out again and Max had been hurt enough by him.
“Hey, Jess. I’ll take over, now. Marty is going to stay
to help.” I looked toward the door and nodded at the island’s other therapist, Jez. A tall blond of about thirty-five or so, the man had a quiet, calming personality.
His blue eyes looked at me, winking slightly. I smiled back, patting his arm as I went to stand next to him.
“Hey Jez. Thanks for helping. Jackson is a little…wired right now.” I saw the twinkle in Jez’s eyes as he suppressed a smile at my delicate description. “Do you need me to stay?” Jackson had left when Jez arrived, claiming he had things to do. I had a good idea that it was more that he felt he couldn’t control himself well enough just then. Which meant Jez and Marty would be on their own with the professor.
“No. Marty and I can handle things. You guys get back and see to our new students.” He rolled his eyes and I narrowed my eyes at him. He looked like he was suppressing a secret.
“Something you’d like to share?” At my question, he grinned, white teeth flashing in his tanned flash. He placed a hand on my arm in comfort. Alarm bells immediately began ringing.
“I’d really hate to ruin the surprise. I will say this, though. Stereotypes are not always too far wrong.” My eyes widened, and I felt a slightly sick feeling in my stomach. My mind was racing. I took a deep breath, poking out my tongue at the laughter still sparkling in his eyes. He choked a little trying not to laugh out loud at my reaction.
“I’ll let you know how that goes, Jez!”
He lost the battle, chuckling into his hand as I left. I shook my head at Max, who was grinning like a hyena.
“Do you know what he’s talking about?” I took one look at the expression of pure glee in his eyes and shook my head. “Of course you do.” I rolled my eyes. Was it possible, I wondered, to strain an eyeball? I was doing so much eye-rolling lately, it was a possibility.
