Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  She took his hand and allowed him to pull her upright. “Yes,” she nodded. “I can do that.”

  They both turned their heads toward the sound of someone approaching. A man appeared between the trees. He was around Wes’ age, with reddish hair, a matching goatee, regular features and a hard look in his eyes. He was wearing a long windbreaker over a black knit shirt and black jeans.

  Mara pulled her hand away from Wes and drew in a sharp breath. She clutched the blanket protectively around herself as the man approached.

  He stopped in front of them and broke into a smile. “There you are,” he said in a smooth baritone. “We were worried because of the rain. How did you two get all the way out here?” Without waiting for a reply, he unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt. “DJ? You can call off the search. I’ve found them on the far side of the bog. Send around a cart to this edge of the woods, will you? I’ll handle things from here. Thanks.”

  He turned again to Wes and Mara, lifting his lips in a smile that carried no hint of warmth or humor. His eyes were as hard and flat as stones. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. I’m Alex, and you must be Tom. I do hope this naughty girl of ours hasn’t been giving you any trouble?”

  “Not at all,” Wes said, forcing a smile of his own. “She definitely gave me a run for my money, but it was worth it.” Channeling Tom Cartwright, he managed what he hoped was a convincing guffaw and winked, guy to guy. “I can’t wait to enjoy my prize back in my room. Shall we head over to wait for the golf cart?”

  Alex was staring intently at Mara. He gave no sign he’d even heard Wes speak. “Mara, did you forget that Pirate Island girls never cover themselves in front of our guests? Drop that disgusting rag this instant. Stand tall and proud.”

  Mara immediately let the blanket fall away from her shoulders. This guy clearly had some kind of strong hold over her and Wes didn’t like it, not one bit. Nevertheless, he held his tongue. He was still Tom Cartwright, if just for a few more minutes.

  Alex had come closer and was now standing directly in front of Mara. “Tell me, didn’t you hear the whistle? The hunt ended thirty minutes ago, but it sounds like Tom just found you? Can you explain this, Mara?”

  Wes sensed a trap, something to do with timing and that sports whistle he’d heard. He stepped in. “I caught her a while back,” he said quickly. “I, uh, I had a need that required immediate attention.” He rubbed the crotch of his pants suggestively and flashed a grin.

  Distaste flickered for a nanosecond over Alex’s face, instantly replaced by a bland smile. He turned his attention once more to Mara. “Where’s your necklace? What happened to your ruby?”

  “Oh!” Mara’s hand flew to her throat.

  “Did you lose it, careless girl?” Alex attempted a playful tone no doubt for Wes’ benefit, but the acid seeped through. Mara didn’t respond. Wes could feel the fear radiating off her. How much longer did he have to keep up this charade? Where the hell was the rest of the team?

  Alex turned to Wes. “You’ll have to forgive Mara. She’s a ruby—you understand what a ruby is here on Pirate Island? It means she’s a sexual masochist. A pain slut, as DJ likes to say. She craves erotic pain. She needs to suffer in order to feel pleasure. She also requires punishment when she’s been a bad girl. Losing her necklace”—he shook his head and made a tsk, tsk sound—“that was very careless of her. She would want to be punished for this.”

  Wes clenched his hands into fists. He nearly said something out of character, but caught himself in time. Tom Cartwright had a reputation as a player—as a guy who fucked anything that moved and craved intensity of experience. Tom Cartwright wouldn’t flinch at what he was hearing. He’d be intrigued, the way a dog might want to sniff around a dead rat or another dog’s shit. Again, he held his tongue.

  Alex turned to regard Mara with those cold green eyes. She was naked, filthy and trembling before him. How could the guy bear to add to this girl’s obvious pain and terror?

  All at once Wes understood—Alex was empty, entirely without empathy. Was there even a shred of humanity in the man? He had no more sense of another person’s pain than a snake would have when it swallowed a rat. “Wouldn’t you, Mara?” the loathsome man continued. “You want to lie down right now in the mud so Tom and I can take turns spanking your naughty little bottom, isn’t that right?”

  To Wes’ horror, Mara started to sink to her knees. Blind instinct took over, his Tom Cartwright persona sloughed off once and for all like a snake’s dead skin. Wes pushed Mara behind him. He raised his clenched fist and, putting everything he had into the blow, landed a powerhouse right hook on the side of Alex’s jaw.

  The asshole went down like a sack of cement.

  ~*~

  Mara stared in stunned disbelief at the man lying in a crumpled heap before them. “Oh, my god,” she breathed. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” Blood was trickling out of the corner of Alex’s mouth. For a moment she feared he was dead, but then he moaned, a low guttural sound.

  Mara leaped back, fully expecting Alex to open his eyes, to rear up and throw her to the ground, to call in the reinforcements. He would have Wes killed. He would send her to the box for sure, or worse, sell her.

  “Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she repeated, aware she sounded like a broken record, but unable to stop herself.

  Wes bent over the inert man and rolled him to his side. Lifting Alex’s arm, Wes tugged at the sleeves of his jacket, yanking it free of Alex’s limp form. “Here,” he said, holding the jacket out to Mara. “Put this on.”

  Mara took a step back, confused and frightened. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis and she couldn’t quite get her balance. Alex would not be pleased to find her clothed in his jacket. She was never to cover herself in front of the men, unless it was in an outfit of their choosing, for their pleasure.

  “It’s okay, Mara. Take it,” Wes said insistently. “We need to hurry. He’ll regain consciousness soon.”

  With her eyes fixed on Alex as if he might suddenly spring up, Mara accepted the jacket and wrapped it around her body. She watched as Wes grabbed a coil of rope from the small heap of supplies that must have come from his backpack. Positioning himself beside Alex, he jerked the man’s arms none too gently behind him and, holding his wrists with one hand, tied and knotted the rope around them.

  He used a hand towel to gag Alex, wrapping rope around his head and over the towel to keep it in place. While Wes was working, Alex’s eyes fluttered open, and Mara gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. To her vast relief, they fluttered shut again. He remained still, bound and gagged in the mud.

  Wes jumped to his feet. He started to speak when a voice issued from the walkie-talkie on Alex’s belt. “Alex? I’m here where you said to be. You in there?” Mara recognized the garbled but audible voice of Ronaldo.

  Wes bent down and grabbed the walkie-talkie from Alex’s belt. Without missing a beat, he pressed a button and, in a voice that sounded surprisingly like Alex’s said, “Mara and the guest will be right out. Take them back to the resort without me. I need to take care of something. I’ll radio you when I want the cart returned.”

  “Roger that.”

  Wes dropped the walkie-talkie beside the still unconscious Alex. He took Mara’s hand in his and urged her gently forward. “Let’s go.”

  Ronaldo lifted his eyebrows when he saw them emerge from the trees. He pursed his lips in disapproval at Mara’s covered form, but said nothing. Wes helped Mara into the back seat of the cart and settled in beside her. Ronaldo turned back to smile obsequiously at him. “Did you enjoy the hunt, sir?”

  Wes nodded brusquely. He put his arm around Mara’s shoulders and Mara found herself leaning into him. For the first time since her abduction, the tight ball of terror deep in her gut had uncoiled. “Sure,” he said to the driver. “But I’m ready for a hot shower. Thanks for the ride.”

  Taking the hint, Ronaldo turned back around and drove the cart over a grass-covered path
until it joined the paved road. Wes pulled away suddenly from Mara and leaned forward, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He had his cell phone in his hand and he was staring at the screen.

  “They’re here,” he whispered softly into Mara’s ear. “They’ve landed and are coming ashore.”

  When Ronaldo pulled smoothly into the circular driveway in front of the resort building, Wes jumped out and raced around to Mara’s side. He pulled her quickly from the cart. “Thanks for the ride,” he said in a loud, jovial voice to Ronaldo.

  Wes propelled Mara toward the entrance of the building. She tensed when she saw Dan Wallace and Dawn sitting with someone in the bar area sipping drinks. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice Wes and Mara. Without stopping or acknowledging them, Wes led Mara quickly down the hall of suites to a door. Stopping in front of it, he inserted a card key and pushed the door open, gesturing for her to enter first.

  Once inside, he moved close and murmured into her ear, “There’s a hidden camera up there.” He gestured with his chin toward the light fixture. “There’s probably a microphone as well, so be careful what you say. I’m not going to risk disabling it at this point, just in case someone is monitoring.” He put his arm around her and led her toward the bathroom.

  He closed the door. Still speaking softly, he said, “I didn’t find a camera or bug in the bathroom so I want you to stay in here until someone from my team comes for you, okay? Of course, you’ll want to clean up.” His eyes swept her filthy face and body—not that he looked much better. “I have some workout shorts and a T-shirt that will fit you okay,” he continued. “They’re better than nothing. I’ll bring them in before I go.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take to secure the island. Things could be pretty chaotic for a while. I want you to stay put here until someone comes for you, okay?”

  Mara nodded. She didn’t want this kind, sympathetic man to leave her, but she understood he had to go.

  Wes pulled his filthy, damp shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. His shoulders were broad, his chest smooth, his pecs and abs clearly defined. Beneath the streaked dirt, he had a day’s worth of blond stubble on his chin and jaw. His eyes were a deep, royal blue. He turned on the sink tap and dunked his head under the flow of water, rubbing at his hair and running his hands over his face. He grabbed a towel. “I have to go in a second. Remember, stay here in the bathroom until someone comes for you.”

  “Yes,” Mara agreed.

  Wes left the room. Mara could hear him rummaging in the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the sunken tub, still trying to process his promise of her impending freedom. What if this was another elaborate ruse designed to test her loyalty? She shook the thought away. It was too horrible to contemplate.

  Wes reentered the bathroom. He had put on a fresh shirt. His hair had begun to dry, and it stuck up in thick, golden-blond tufts.

  “How many other girls are being held here on the island?” he asked.

  “Six. There was another girl when I got here,” Mara’s voice cracked. “Her name was Sam. She was…sold.”

  A dark look moved over Wes’ face and he nodded as if he’d seen this kind of thing before. “We’ll bring in the FBI. Hopefully they can follow the money trail and track her down. Right now, we have to focus on getting you all safely out of here. Where are the other girls right now, do you know?”

  Mara shrugged uncertainly. “They could be with guests. Those girls not in service are probably in the quarters.” She told him where the building was located.

  Wes nodded. “Got it.” Again he put his hand on Mara’s shoulder. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but it’s over now. I’ll get clearance to evacuate you all to a safe house we have in Norfolk, Virginia. There’s going to be a lot of fallout from this thing, and we need to make sure you aren’t compromised or in danger. You’ll be able to contact your family from there.”

  Mara said nothing to this, though she couldn’t stop the tears that began to roll down her cheeks. She turned away and wiped at them with her dirty hands. She was a survivor. She would make a new life for herself somewhere far away from here.

  She felt Wes’ hands on her shoulders once more and she allowed him to turn her gently toward him. He pulled her into a quick, tight hug. “It’s going to be okay, Mara. I promise.” His embrace was strong and comforting, but after a moment, he let her go and stepped back. “Things are going to get a little crazy. We might not have a chance to talk much before your evacuation.” He moved toward the desk again and grabbed a pen and small pad of paper. He scribbled on the page and tore it from the pad.

  “That’s my cell number. I know you’ll want to put this whole horrible nightmare far behind you, Mara, probably me included. But keep the number, okay? Just in case.”

  Mara stared at the digits, which instantly and permanently imprinted themselves in her memory. She looked back up at the handsome, earnest man standing before her. Something strange was happening to her face. Muscles that hadn’t been used in a long time were being called into service.

  It took her a moment to realize she was smiling.

  “Yes,” she said. “Thank you. For everything.”

  Epilogue

  Sixteen Months Later

  It was the first heavy snowfall of the year, the initial fat, lazy flakes giving way to a steady blur of white outside the cabin windows. A log cracked in the fireplace, blue sparks flickering through the orange and yellow flames. Mara picked up her coffee mug and sipped as she began to peruse the front page of the newspaper.

  North Carolina Top Financier Appeals Conviction in Slave Island Kidnapping/Drug Scandal of the Century

  Mara tensed as she read the headline. She had been warned by the prosecuting attorneys that Wallace and the others would probably try to appeal their sentences. Dawn, Ronaldo, and other less key players in the drama the papers had dubbed Slave Island had all turned state’s evidence in exchange for reduced sentences without trial.

  A rush of images and memories from the year before flooded her mind—the excitement and confusion as armed men landed ashore and the blur that came afterward. She and the other girls were taken by two of the enforcement agents via golf carts to the small landing strip on the edge of the island. At first Esmé, Raeanne and the other girls hadn’t understood or quite believed they were being flown to safety. After their initial week-long stay at the safe house, during which time Mara and the other girls received medical exams, along with extensive group and individual counseling, some of the girls had returned to their families. Mara and Scarlett, neither of whom had any family to speak of, had spent another month at a clinic for trauma victims in Asheville. Mara still had the scrap of paper with Wes’ phone number, which she’d kept clutched in her hand through the tumult of the evacuation, even though she’d memorized the number.

  Though she’d felt a little shy, Mara had taken Wes on his word, and had called him. She’d been relieved and gratified at how happy he’d seemed to hear from her. Though no visitors had been permitted at the safe house, once she was at the clinic, Wes had come to visit her as often as he could. Sometimes they did little more than walk together around the pretty grounds of the facility. Wes never pressed her to talk about her experience, but when she did, he always listened with a kind of quiet, respectful intensity that made her feel heard and safe.

  During the last week of her stay at the clinic, Wes arrived with the best possible news. They’d managed to track down Sam, along with two other girls from the island who had been sold to a man in Thailand. The girls had been rescued as part of a larger prostitution ring bust, and were being returned to the States.

  Mara leaned over the paper now to read the article, scanning the summation of the year-long multiple trials of Dan Wallace, DJ and Hillary for any mention of Alex Carroll, but he didn’t seem to be included in the appeal.

  The criminal trials had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. Especially dur
ing Alex’s trial, Mara had had to fight the defense attorneys’ attempts to embarrass and humiliate her on the witness stand, as they peppered her with leading questions and dark insinuations that she was somehow to blame for what had happened to her. She had broken down several times during the questioning by both the prosecution and the defense teams as they forced her to relive many of the horrific moments of her captivity on Pirate Island. Wes Armstrong had been there every single day of her testimony, sitting in the front row, radiating encouragement and sending her a steady beam of courage and support.

  During his trial, Alex had had the nerve to testify on his own behalf, claiming he had been duped by the Wallace family to believe the girls were participating on a fully consensual basis in their training, as he called his reign of terror over them all. He’d appeared utterly self-possessed and confident on the stand, handsome in a perfectly tailored suit that hid the snake tattoo on his arm and the dark evil in his heart. “These women worshipped me,” he’d had the gall to insist. “I taught them to realize their potential as fully sexualized beings. I never did anything the girls didn’t expressly ask me to do. I provided a service they would have paid thousands for at a sex clinic. This whole thing is only being twisted against me because of this regrettable drug business, which I had absolutely nothing to do with.”

  He had, in fact, been cleared of any involvement in the drug trafficking. As to his other ludicrous claims, there was plenty of evidence, including Mara’s own testimony, to find him guilty by a unanimous jury verdict of torture, kidnapping, human trafficking and aggravated sexual abuse. Mara smiled grimly at the thought of Alex’s life sentence. Twenty life sentences wouldn’t be long enough.

  Wallace was clearly still trying to bring his substantial wealth and still-considerable influence to bear in his efforts to wrangle reduced sentences for himself and his children, but it would be a long time before any of them would see the light of day beyond prison walls, and that suited Mara just fine. Mrs. Wallace had claimed no knowledge of “any improprieties” in her husband’s businesses, though Mara found that rather difficult to believe. At first Maryellen Wallace had been quite vocal about “standing by her man” but this article noted in closing that she had filed for divorce. Too bad she couldn’t divorce her children.