Masters at Arms (8 page)

“Everything all right in there?”

“Fire! Fire! Help me!” The woman sobbed
now.

What the hell was going on in there?
Damián ran back toward the elevator and pulled the fire
extinguisher from the wall, then returned to the door. His heel
striking against the handle barely made a dent at opening it. After
three more kicks, the door finally crashed against the inner
wall.

“Fire! Help!” The screams came from the
bedroom. “No more, please!” she begged hysterically.

Damián ran through the fancy suite with its
antique furniture and around the wet bar to try the bedroom
doorknob. Unlocked. Hoping for the element of surprise, he slowly
turned the handle until he felt the tumbler release, then slammed
the door open. As it hit the wall and bounced back, he dodged the
recoil and rushed into the room.

What the fuck?

The fire extinguisher dropped to the floor.
On the bed in front of him, the Barbie doll from the restaurant was
trussed up in a grotesque position. The soles of her feet were red.
Her naturally blond pussy was splayed open for God and everyone to
see. Red, angry welts covered her inner thighs. White nylon ropes
suspended her knees in the air, attaching her to the headboard.

Her eyes were closed, but her face was red,
with tracks of tears down both cheeks. The sight of her ravaged
body tore at his gut.

When he’d first burst in, the two
Japanese-looking men she’d had dinner with had stood naked on
either side of her. They’d turned to look at Damián, then dropped
some kind of glowing purple globe onto the bed. With frantic hand
gestures and short orders to each other in a foreign language, they
gathered up the various items on the bed—a quirt, a short bamboo
cane, additional rope, that purple globe thing—and stuffed them
into their briefcases.

Had they just been into a severe BDSM scene?
An ex-girlfriend right out of juvie had been into that shit and had
explained to him how it all worked. Damián couldn’t get off on
hurting a
chica
, so they’d broken up soon after.
Shit,
maybe “fire” was her safe word?
But if she’d said her safe
word, why hadn’t they stopped?

The men quickly put on their boxers and suit
pants, then grabbed their shirts and suit coats and ran out the
door. The mud in his brain was clearing and it became obvious to
him she wasn’t a willing participant.
Fuck
. He ran to the
bed but didn’t know what to do first.

She whimpered incoherently, her face turned
away from him. Her tits were bound so tight, they had turned
bluish-purple. He reached out to untie those ropes first. Tears
streamed down her face and she muttered gibberish. Her eyes were
closed and her face turned away from him, flushed.

Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!! Where’d those guys learn
to tie knots?

“Hang on,
querida
. I’ll have you out
of here in a minute.”
I hope. Come on! Untie, God damn
it!

His heart pounded against his chest as he
fought to make headway with the ropes. Finally, they loosened. A
few seconds later, she screamed again as blood began circulating to
her breasts. Damián wished he could absorb her pain into his own
chest, but was afraid to touch her and cause even more pain. He
reached for the wrist cuff on her left side and released her.

“Oh, God! Stop!” Her screams left him feeling
even more helpless. He’d vowed never to feel that way again once
he’d been released from juvie.

“I’m sorry. I know that hurts like hell,
bebé
.” He lowered her hand slowly onto the bed and rubbed
her shoulder, trying to relieve the stiff and sore muscles. He
followed the rope that splayed her thighs open and reached behind
the headboard again to find it looped around what felt like an eye
hook. He released it, and then kept the rope taut until he could
grab her battered thigh and gently lay her leg onto the
mattress.

Her screams of anguish caused his gut to
clench. He was hurting her, but knew she’d feel better once
circulation returned and her muscles relaxed.

He rushed around to the other side of the bed
to unfasten those restraints. How long had she been tied up? He’d
seen her leave the booth with the three men about an hour ago.
Where was the fucking jerk-off in the white suit who’d brought her
here in the first place?

Was she some kind of hooker or something?
Didn’t matter. No one deserved to be tortured like this.

He released the wrist cuff and lowered her
arm, then did the same with the ropes holding up her other thigh.
Now freed, she cried out and curled her beautiful body into a ball,
trying to minimize the pain and comfort herself. He froze, unsure
what to do next. Her sobs ripped his fucking heart out.

When she began to shake, his mind engaged
again and he retrieved the sheet and blanket that had been tossed
on the floor at the foot of the bed. He tucked them around her
trembling body, cocooning her in warmth. Still, she shook from the
release of the stress on her body. Endorphins, his ex-girlfriend
had explained—like it was a good thing. Maybe it was for his ex,
who’d enjoyed that shit. But not for this girl.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

Damián looked up to see the jerk-off from the
restaurant standing in the doorway with his fancy phone in his
hand.

“Who let you in here, wetback?”

Wetback?
His family probably had been
in California longer than this man’s.

The man turned to look at the woman.
“Savannah, what the hell happened to my clients?”

Savannah
. Beautiful, just like
her.

“They were hurting her,” Damián said. He
clenched his fists to keep from bashing in the man’s face. The
jerk-off knew exactly what had been happening to her.

The man glared at him. “Well, no shit,
Sherlock. The bitch gets off on pain—and I get off on making
money.” So maybe she
was
being paid to do this. The jerk-off
looked down at Savannah again. Damián was glad she couldn’t see the
expression of anger and disgust on his face.

“Looks like neither of us is going to get off
today, slut. Get the fuck up!”

When he went to the bed and grabbed
Savannah’s arm, a gut-wrenching scream poured from her. Damián had
had enough. He grabbed the man by the back of his suit coat and
pulled him away from her. “Get the fuck out!”

The man stood and addressed him as if he were
a bug to squash under his shoe. “Who the hell do you think you’re
talking to, wetback?”

“
Keep a low profile and mind your own
business…?”

Fuck that shit. When the man took a swing at
his face, Damián blocked it with his left forearm, then rammed his
right fist into Jerk-off’s soft underbelly. The man doubled over,
gasping for air. Damián waited to deliver another blow, but the man
reached out for the nightstand and straightened up. He obviously
hadn’t grown up in Damián’s neighborhood. Finished with one blow.
Some tough guy.

His voice came out like a wheezing whisper.
“You’re going to regret this.”

But Damián knew he’d have more regrets if
he’d let the man hurt her any more.

* * *

Savannah pulled into herself, trying to
escape the fiery pain. She could no longer identify one single
source of discomfort. Nerve endings over her entire body screamed
for relief.

Go to your cave, Savi. I am waiting.

She drifted toward the ceiling, out the
window to the balcony, up the coast to the cave where she’d sought
refuge so many times before. The waves crashed against the rocks.
She walked carefully over the jagged edges, dodging sea urchins.
Her flip-flops slipped as she climbed over the sharp rocks.

But this time, he pursued her. Faster. Run
faster! He was close. So close. He grabbed her and pulled. The
pain! Oh, God. She jerked away from him and ran faster. He let go
just as she walked under the natural rock arch carved over
centuries by water and wind. The sounds of the waves died down. The
pain receded.

“
Maman!”

Her mother had spread a picnic lunch on a
blanket for them to enjoy. When she smiled and held out her hand,
Savannah glided forward, her feet just hovering over the sand.

Safe. At last.

Savannah sank to the blanket and took Maman’s
slender hand. She shivered. The air was cooler than usual inside
the cave. Savannah stretched out on the blanket and laid her head
in Maman’s lap, curling her legs up to her chest. Maman stroked her
hair away from her face. She was always brushing the tangles from
her long curls.

A shudder wracked Savannah’s body. Maman
wrapped her in a warm blanket. Savannah didn’t remember seeing the
blanket when she’d arrived. She smiled. Maman worked magic. She
always knew how to make their time together here perfect.

The waves crashed far in the distance, but
they couldn’t reach them here. A door slammed.

A door? In her cave?

Savannah’s brows furrowed.

“Here,
querida
. Drink this.”

She groaned.
No!
How had he found
their secret cave? She fought against the man pulling her away from
Maman. She sputtered and gasped as water entered her mouth. He
captured her flailing hands. Was he trying to drown her? When had
the tide come in?

“Shhh. He’s gone. Drink the water. It will
help. You’re safe now.”

No, not safe until you’re gone. Leave us
alone
.

She clutched at Maman’s dress. “No!” But he
pulled her away, dragging her over the sand-encrusted rocks that
bit into her skin. Raw. On fire. She fought him, but he continued
to tear her from her safe place. From Maman.

Someone screamed in anguish. Then the fiery
pain washed over her thighs, pussy, and breasts and she realized it
was she who screamed. A strong, hard body pulled her against him,
wrapping a steel-banded arm around her waist and arms, holding her
tight.

Claustrophobia. Smothering. She tried to push
at him, but his chest was as hard as the rocks on the beach. Only
smoother.

“I have you,
querida
. No one’s going
to hurt you as long as I’m here. Just breathe slowly.”

With an effort, she managed to return her
breathing to normal, as he’d told her to do. He spoke Spanish. The
sadists hadn’t. His voice was gentle, oddly soothing to her jagged
nerves, despite being a man’s.

Her chest hurt so badly, her nipples ready to
explode. Ropes, quirt, electricity.

Good God!
No, there was no God, good
or otherwise. She moaned as images flooded her mind—the purple
globe shocking her pussy and breasts. She’d tried so hard not to
scream. She hadn’t wanted to give the sadists that satisfaction.
But the pain. Oh, God, the pain had been the worst ever. She gasped
on a sob.

“Shhhh,
bebé
. It’s over now.”

A strong hand stroked her hair. Comforting,
but firm.

Safe.

At last.

Sleep now, Savi.

“Yes, Maman.”

* * *

Damián knew the moment she’d fallen asleep.
Her body released its tension and she relaxed against him. Well,
he’d never been mistaken for someone’s mother before. He smiled and
pulled her closer.

She felt so fragile in his arms, as if he
could break her if he touched her the wrong way. Her long,
sun-streaked blonde hair was sleek and straight. He wanted to run
his hands through it, but didn’t want to wake her. Instead, he
pressed his face against her hair and inhaled her scent. Flowery.
Clean.

An hour passed and she continued to sleep,
not moving a muscle. Damián expected the police to arrive at any
moment—but no one came. He couldn’t move her yet, certainly not on
his Harley. Damián eased away from her and went into the sitting
room to prop a chair against the suite entrance. He locked the
bedroom door. Better than nothing. Might at least keep Jerk-off
away from her.

What the hell kind of security did this place
have? Hell, he’d busted down her door and no one had come to check.
He returned to the bedroom and crawled back into bed beside her. If
any of those dickheads came around her again, he wanted to make
sure he stood between her and them.

No way would he leave her here alone. He’d
take his chances with the authorities, even though he knew what
would happen if they arrested him. Chicanos didn’t assault rich
white men and get away with it.

He looked down at her again. So defenseless.
She needed him. He didn’t understand what had drawn him to her,
right from the moment he saw her in the restaurant. But he knew he
needed to protect her. She sure as hell didn’t make good choices
when it came to men. Why would anyone subject herself to this kind
of pain and degradation? Was she a call girl? Still, he couldn’t
accept that she was a common
puta
.

“
The bitch gets off on
pain
.
”

Wrong again. She hadn’t enjoyed the pain
those men had inflicted on her. So, why had she put herself in such
danger? Safe, sane, and consensual. That was his ex-girlfriend’s
mantra for BDSM scenes, but this one had been none of the
above.

Savannah needed someone to look after
her.

Well, she isn’t going to take a second look
at you. Way out of your league, man.

She moaned and turned her face toward him.
When she wrapped an arm around his waist, Damián felt his dick
harden. She licked her full lips and he fought the urge to bend
over and kiss her.

Protect her, Damián. No la moleste.

No, she didn’t need that from him, too. Just
hold her. But if he was going to get rid of his hard-on, he’d
better think about something other than the perfect
chica
sleeping in his arms. He steered his mind in a different direction.
One thing he knew he could kiss goodbye—his job. Damn. He didn’t
want to be homeless again. But, without this job, he wouldn’t be
able to pay the rent.