by Maggie Ryan
“No,” Zoya interrupted. “Poplov’s not worried about any of us testifying against him or the men who were there.”
“Why not?” Maddox asked.
“Because of the contracts we all signed.” Zoya turned to Stryder. “The papers he gave you when we left. My passport and an envelope?”
He nodded, his brow furrowed as he looked at Anson. “Where is it? I never opened it.”
Anson stood, and after shuffling through piles of paper he’d obviously been going through, brought a cream-colored envelope to Stryder. Ripping it open, Stryder pulled out a single sheet of paper. “This is a contract? Not much here.”
“It doesn’t have to be long,” Zoya said. “Read it.”
Stryder did. Zoya didn’t have to listen, she knew each word by heart. She’d penned every one herself, as had all the women.
I, Zoya Morozova, willingly accept the role of sexual slave. I forfeit all rights, all possessions to my owner. I will obey all orders given and relinquish all responsibilities, all rights, including the right to live, to the one who holds this contract. I do so with complete understanding and acknowledgement that from this point forward, I am no longer a human, I am a possession at the mercy of the one who owns me.
“Oh, God,” Adira said, the words full of pain.
“There’s not a fucking court that would uphold this as being a legal document,” Stryder snarled, crumpling the sheet in his fist.
“Not true,” Zoya said, placing her hand over his. “Maybe not here in America, but I don’t think Poplov would have had us write them, sign them, if he didn’t believe they’d hold up.”
“Like the bills of sale we got when we bought the stallions,” Maddox said. “Poplov was there. Except instead of horses, he sold human beings. Zoya is right. I can see other officials, those in countries controlled by corruption, accepting them if one ever came up in some fucking kangaroo court.”
“And I’m betting neither he nor any of the other men ever expect to need any contract. It was most likely another layer of threat to keep the women in line. Why did you sign it, Zoya?” Anson asked.
“Because I didn’t care what happened to me, but I thought he’d kill my family if I didn’t.” She paused and looked at Adira. “And now I know he wouldn’t have hesitated to do so.”
Stryder’s arms tightened around her, and she could see the vein in his neck pulsing. Placing a finger on it, she said, “It doesn’t matter now because we are going to stop him. Right?”
“Right.” The word was chorused by everyone in the room.
Zoya smiled and nodded. “Then what can I do to help?” She was pleasantly surprised when she wasn’t told she wasn’t needed. Instead, Stryder first took her hand and kissed her palm, then motioned towards the monitors.
“You said there were thirteen women, including yourself, and yet Anson only remembers there being a dozen on the stage. Who is missing?”
Sliding from Stryder’s lap, she moved to the screens as Anson rearranged the photographs into rows of four across and three down, her own among the faces. She took her time, starting at the first photo, going from one to the next until she’d listed every name in her head. Then she did it again. Finally, she looked up.
“Sophia, she’s not here. Remember I told you about her? How she was the only one who fought back? Why didn’t I draw her? I thought I’d drawn all of the women.”
“When was the last time you remember seeing her?” Stryder asked, coming to stand next to her.
Zoya considered the question, straining to remember. She closed her eyes, again taking deep breaths, forcing herself back to the morning of the auction. Running the events through her head: the humiliating examination, the shower, the hair and make-up, being dressed as if they were models about to walk down the runway of some fashion show. Opening her eyes, she looked at the monitor again.
“She was with us when they woke us but once we were taken from the room, she disappeared. Do you think she got away somehow?”
Stryder shook his head. “I don’t see how that would have been possible. You told me that you were never left alone, right?”
“Only at night after they chained us to the bed,” Zoya said. When Stryder reached for her hands, she realized she’d been rubbing her wrists as if to ease the pain from the cuffs that had been used to shackle them.
“You told us that Sophia had been taken away, you heard her screaming, that she was returned and the guard had a cane. He used it to threaten the rest of you, correct?”
This time she could only nod, the memory of those screams echoing in her mind.
“What if it was all a ploy?” Stryder said.
“What?”
“Yes,” Anson said, “why waste manpower when all it would take to make the women behave was the terror of hearing one of their own being tortured? What better way to keep the prisoners in line than to plant one of their own among them?”
Zoya’s head was spinning as Stryder took up the discussion. “Exactly. Tell me, did you actually see any proof that Sophia had been beaten? Raped? You were kept naked; did you see welts? Bruises? Blood?”
She winced at the visual he was creating and yet his fingers caressing her wrists, his calm tone, his very presence, allowed her not to panic. Thinking, replaying that day, she looked up and met his eyes. The answer shocked her when she spoke.
“No. All we heard were the screams. It was horrid but when they brought her back, she was wrapped in a blanket. Her cot was on the far wall.” She hesitated and then continued. “The rest of the cots were side by side, only a couple of feet between them. Except for Sophia’s. It wasn’t close to anyone else’s. She was crying and the guard was slapping that cane against his leg and yelling. But no, I never saw any evidence. We were all so scared, and yet I thought she was so brave.”
“Not brave,” Stryder said. “A clever plant.” He looked to his brother and then at the monitor. “You were both right. There were thirteen women in that room but only a dozen at the auction. Sophia likely just walked away.”
“So the bastard isn’t as smart as he likes to think,” Anson said, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Poplov figures no one will even know about Sophia. At least no one who matters. She wasn’t at the auction, so none of the attendees ever saw her. But where he screwed up was in not knowing that one of his victims is a very accomplished artist.”
“You asked why you didn’t draw her portrait,” Stryder said. “That’s your answer. Your subconscious remembered that she wasn’t actually on the stage.”
“But I can’t believe it was all an act,” Zoya said. “God, first I believed Katarina to be a friend, and now Sophia? She stayed in that room with us. Listened to us cry. Knew how terrified we were. What sort of person can do that?”
“Either an evil one like Poplov, or someone willing to do anything to protect someone they love,” Stryder said.
“Can you draw her now?” Anson cut in. “If we can find her, we might be able to discover which one she is.”
“Yes,” Zoya said. “Where is my pad?”
“It’s getting late,” Drake said. “I told Hadi we’d send over everything we have and we can pick this up in the morning, but for now, I think we need to get some sleep.”
“I can’t,” Zoya said instantly. “I see her now. I need to draw.”
“Sorry, Pops, but I’ve gotta overrule you here. If we don’t let her draw, she’ll most likely be running. I’ve put in my miles already, so unless you want to be the one hoofing after her or…” Stryder turned back to her, “unless you plan on returning to the lake?”
Zoya blushed as her sex instantly spasmed but shook her head.
“Fine,” Drake said with a chuckle and a look that had Zoya wondering exactly how astute the patriarch of this family was. “Draw your picture, Zoya, but then you get to bed. You’ve gone through a lot today and need to rest. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, the older man’s tone eerily familiar sounding.
Stryder chuckled as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Where do you think we learned that tone?” he asked as if able to read her mind. “I’ll get the pad.”
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Maddox said, standing with Adira in his arms.
“I’m not ready to sleep,” Adira protested.
Maddox chuckled. “Who said anything about sleep? We are going to step across the hall. By the time I’m done with you, I’ll have you eating those words.”
“Ah, now that I am ready for,” Adira said, a smile lighting her entire face.
Stryder returned with the pad and charcoal pencil, placing them on the table where she’d worked earlier. Zoya walked towards him as Maddox carried Adira out the door. Sliding into the chair Stryder pulled out for her, she looked up at him.
“I know I told your father I’d go to bed after this, but maybe Maddox has the right idea.” Picking up the pencil and flipping open the cover of the tablet, she said, “You promised that a nice workout would relieve the tension in my shoulders, remember? I don’t think they’d mind if we joined them in the gym when I’m done.”
His eyes seemed to be smoldering, the corner of his mouth twitching, his eyebrow quirking as he bent close. “What I seem to remember is promising to make you pay for forcing me to run. And,” his eyes cut to the door again, “my dear, if I know my brother, and I do, he is not talking about a workout. At least not one taking place in the gym.”
“What do you mean, and don’t tell me ignorance is bliss.”
This time his smile was large enough to cause the dimple in his cheek to be revealed. Tapping his finger against the blank sheet, he said, “Finish the portrait for Anson and then we’ll talk.”
“About what?” she asked, her tummy flipping at the look in his eyes and what seemed like a promise in his voice.
“Let’s just leave it at bliss, shall we?”
That was enough to have her swallowing hard and her fingers gripping the charcoal pencil tighter as she began to stroke it across the page. As much as she wanted to discover what he meant, the moment she began to draw, as Sophia’s face began to emerge, everyone else disappeared. She’d promised to help… anything else would have to wait.
Once she was done, she stood and moved to the monitors where Anson and Stryder were working. Handing the pad to Anson, she then looked at the screen to see that Anson had changed the display. The screen was now split into two sections. The top section held each woman’s photo next to that of a man’s… the one who had purchased her. The bottom section held only one photo, hers under the heading, “Safe.” Her heart clenched at knowing she was the only woman not still living in terror.
Forcing herself to again look at the top section, she saw that Natalia and Montez were the first pair. Her eyes continued to drop further to find Anya and…
“This is wrong,” she said, leaning forward and pointing.”
“Are you sure?” Stryder asked. “You were already off the stage when Anya was—”
“Sold?” Zoya said bluntly. “I know but I was there when Poplov started the entertainment. Anya wasn’t purchased by this man.” Her finger slid down the monitor and then tapped against another man’s face. “This man bought her.”
Anson leaned closer. “They do bear a similarity to each other, but how can you be so sure?”
“Because of the tattoo on his wrist. I saw it when he had his hand behind Anya’s head, holding her while she… while he fucked her mouth. This is the man who has her.”
Without a word, Anson manipulated the mouse, moving the correct picture into place. “Anything else seem wrong?”
Zoya took her time, and then shook her head. “Only that there is only one photo below the safe line.”
“Then I’ll send the array over to Hadi. We’ll regroup tomorrow.” Anson placed his hand on Zoya’s arm. “Thank you. I know this was hard, but it’s vital we have it correct. You helped us do that and we are going to do our very best to move every woman’s photo below the line.”
Stryder stood and, like Maddox before him, scooped his save into his arms.
“I’m a little tired,” she admitted, the stress just now threatening to strip every ounce of energy from her.
“That’s fine, as I’m putting you to bed,” Stryder said.
Zoya laid her head against his chest, and it took her a moment to see the door that was across the hall as Stryder paused to tell his brother that he’d done a great job. Once he stepped over the threshold, she pointed towards the door.
“Is that the gym?”
“No.”
She saw the keypad, snatches of conversations returning despite her fatigue. “Is that your dungeon?”
His stride had been long but with her question, he paused. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. “So that’s the secret Adira was talking about.”
“Adira told you about the playroom?”
“Well, not really. She said she had been sworn to secrecy but when Maddox mentioned the room across the hall, and you said they weren’t going to the gym, and… um, I sort of heard part of the conversation you and Anson had in the truck, and you talked about bliss…” Seeing his brow lift, she felt a delicious shiver run over her and asked the question she suddenly had to have answered. “Will you show me sometime?”
When he didn’t answer, just started walking again, she wondered if she’d gone too far. He hadn’t seemed to mind when she’d teased him earlier but she was getting the distinct impression that he wouldn’t find any jokes or flippant remarks about his dungeon, or playroom, amusing. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Then why did he sound so far away even though she was as close to him as possible? “I meant that it wasn’t my intention to upset you or make light of something that is obviously very important to you.”
He still remained silent as they’d stepped back into the office and he was striding towards her room. Once inside, he kicked the door closed and carried her to the bed, not dropping her onto the surface but sitting on it, holding her on his lap. “You didn’t upset me, Zoya. You just surprised me. Yes, it’s a special room. A dungeon when needed, a playroom most of the time.”
She could feel her heart speed up with his words and with his touch as he cupped her face between his palms. “You asked if I’d show it to you and the answer is that I’d love to, that I would enjoy showing you every piece of equipment, introduce you to every implement. It’s not a place where you go without understanding… make that without an understanding between two people what happens once the door closes. It’s not for the faint of heart. If we enter together, you will obey every order given with the knowledge that I would never harm you. Give you pain as well as pleasure, definitely, but harm you, never.”
While she didn’t fully understand everything he’d said, it didn’t matter. She understood enough to know that she trusted him and if it meant that he would teach her, claim her, she knew her answer. “Take me there.”
Deep brown eyes held hers and he nodded. “I will, but not tonight.”
“Because Maddox—”
“That’s part of it, but mostly because you are tired and I have other plans.” With that, he slid her off his lap and reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head. It took only moments to remove her underwear and a few more to shed his clothes. Settling on the bed again, he grinned and drew her over his lap, patting her bottom.
“It’s time to show you that I am a man of my word. I promised to show you what happens to little girls who force me to run.”
She tensed for only an instant when his palm lifted but when it descended, the sting of the stroke was instantly rubbed away with a gentle caress. Smiling, she laid her cheek onto her folded hands and closed her eyes. By the tenth swat, her legs had opened to allow his hand access, fingers stroking against her core, warming her in yet another way. Her moans filled the room as her hips began to move, to lift to meet each blow only to lower to press against h
is other hand. Pain followed by pleasure… both sensations incredibly erotic, completely satisfying. When she climaxed, it seemed to last forever, his slaps and strokes continuing until she felt as limp as a noodle.
He moved her, positioning her beneath him. His lips found hers as he slid inside and she moaned again at the rightness of it all. Stryder made love to her gently, slowly, kissing her mouth, her throat, her breasts. Her legs wrapped around him, her hands gripping his ass, pulling him closer until he too moaned, coming with her as they found the bliss he’d talked about. When he moved her again, spooning against her back, his arm around her waist, holding her close, he said, “Sleep, Zoya.” And as she was learning she craved to do, she obeyed.
Chapter 15
Stryder had slept in Zoya’s bed with her all night, and was happy that she had managed to find sleep that had blessedly been free of any nightmares. Carrying his mug of coffee, he entered the tunnel. Seeing the door to the dungeon instantly had him thinking of the woman he’d left curled up in the warm bed he’d slipped from. Her request that he show her what was behind the door had filled his night with thoughts, as well as incredibly vivid images of Zoya bound in any one of infinite poses, naked and eager to learn what he could teach her. When he snuck out in the early morning, it had taken every ounce of control not to roll her over and thrust his cock back into her, and his present thoughts weren’t helping his determination to allow her much needed rest. He wasn’t some horny teenager, and yet he was well aware of the pressure of his hardening shaft pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Shaking his head, he wondered if he could even go a day without having to be inside of her.
“You just gonna stand there, or are you coming?”
“I wish,” Stryder said, his lips quirking when he saw his brother’s eyes doing an exaggerated roll a moment before the mug of coffee was plucked from his hand.
