Mikayla [Orchidea: Love on the Bayou 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (29 page)

“I could never repay you guys for what you’ve done and what you’re about to do. My brothers and I owe you.”

“You don’t owe us shit! We’re practically family already. You helped us save Illeanna, and we’d love to kill Flores and put the miserable son of a bitch away for good,” Julien stated.

“I know. He’s killed two good men. Federal agents with families, and it won’t stop there. The man deserves to die,” Michael said and they all agreed.

Marcel glanced at his watch.

“We should start heading out. All weapons have been checked, and we all know the rendezvous point, down by lot number five?” Marcel asked.

They all nodded their heads then shook hands as they gathered their bags and headed out of the motel.

He sat in the chair smoking his cigar and watching her sleep on the bed. He’d tied her to it, amazed that she was still breathing. To think the woman had the gall to attack him and deny him what was now his was insane and foreign to him. She would learn the hard way. Her beatings would be on a regular basis because she was stubborn and under the fantasy belief that her boyfriends could save her.

He released a breath of smoke and looked her body over. He’d roughed her up good, but what he really wanted to do was to fuck her. That’s how he would clear her mind of her men and of her old life. The sight of her now, still bloody and bruised, disgusted him. He couldn’t take her like this. He could have a whore any day of the week. Mikayla was different. She was like his personal voodoo doll. Everything he did to her would be felt twofold against her men. How was that for some twist of Cajun bullshit they all carried on about? He chuckled. He didn’t believe in that voodoo priestess crap or curses and shit. He was in charge and he was the boss.

He stood up and walked slowly toward the bed with his cigar in hand. She needed to be permanently branded. She needed to see a constant reminder of who was her boss and her controller once the bruises and cuts faded away.

He stopped to look over her body. Her long, toned legs, tanned and silky soft. He wouldn’t want to mark her there. He would see it as he fucked her. He ran his free hand up along her inner thigh, over her mound and to her belly. The red blotches and bruises were wicked ones. She moaned and he smiled. She was learning his touch, accepting it and wanting more.

He cupped her lace-covered breast. He thought for a moment about burning her there but that would turn him off, too. He trailed his hand up her arm to her neck then shoulder until he reached her wrist that was tied to the bed.

“Right here,” he whispered then leaned down and kissed her soft, delicate wrist. As he began to move the cigar toward her skin, prepared to mark her, he felt the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.

* * * *

Michael was trying to desperately control his breathing. The sight of Mikayla lying there in only her panties and bra looking battered and bruised was filling him with rage. He and Julien looked at one another, and he waited for Julien’s command. He was going to let Michael take out Flores. They had left a path of dead bodies along the property, and they were running out of time. As he saw Flores touching her then whispering what he planned on doing with the cigar, he lost it.

“Surprise,” Michael stated firmly but quietly as he smacked the cigar down onto the floor. Julien ran to the bed and began to untie Mikayla. She moaned and tried to fight him until Julien told her it was him, not Flores.

Michael took his eyes off of Flores for a moment, and Flores yelled.

“Guards!” Then he reached down to grab a weapon from his ankle. Michael shot him twice, and Flores fell to the ground.

“We need to move, Michael.”

The door opened and two guards appeared. Julien and Michael fired their guns. The silencers would give them the time they needed to escape.

Julien picked up Mikayla and began carrying her toward the balcony.

“She won’t make it. She’s in pain and practically unconscious. We have to take the stairs,” Michael stated.

Julien stopped and looked at the floor where the cigar began to burn into the rug.

“I’ve got an idea. It will help to cover our tracks and won’t leave evidence that we were ever here.” Julien began to rip the comforter from the bed and light it with a lighter. As they exited the room, the fire spread to the curtains and then the ceiling.

* * * *

Marcel and Louis could hear the sirens in the distance as they sat in the boat with the engine running. They were a minute away from the time they agreed upon.

“Fuck! Should we head back?” Louis asked.

“No. We stick to the plan. Julien lived for this kind of shit at one time in his life. He’ll make it here with Michael and Mikayla.”

“We all lived for this shit, but my life has changed now that I have Angelique and the babies on the way,” Marcel added.

Louis smiled.

“Hey, there they are. Shit! She must be hurt. She’s hanging over like she’s dead,” Marcel stated.

“Is she okay?” Louis asked as Julien and Michael got onto the boat.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Marcel stated and they quietly made their way out of the marina and toward their awaiting speedboat.

* * * *

The second they were on the speedboat and the getaway looked clear they took the time to look over Mikayla’s injuries. Michael laid her on the bed in the cabin below. Pierre’s hired crew moved like lightning through the Gulf on their way to a Caribbean island and resort. Marcel joined him by the bed to look her over. He had some medical experience from his stint in the service as well.

“Is it okay if I help you?” Marcel asked Michael as he began to look over her injuries.

“Son of a bitch!” Michael said, and Marcel placed his hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“We’ll take care of her. She’s alive and that piece of shit is dead. Let’s see how we can help her.” Marcel began to look over Mikayla’s injuries.

Julien and Louis cleared their throats as they came to the doorway.

“We brought ice and I took one of these shirts from the crewmen,” Julien said.

“Thanks. The swelling on her eyes and cheek are bad. My God, he could have killed her. I should have never let her out of my sight,” Michael stated then lowered his head. Julien and Louis both stood next to him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders.

“It’s done and you can’t focus on the past. You got her out of there and you’re bringing her home to her sisters and your brothers. You did it, Michael. You saved her,” Julien stated.

“No, we saved her together. I never would have been able to do it without you.”

“Here. Try placing some ice on her eyes. After we bring down the swelling, then we’ll work on her cheeks and the rest. She’s going to need to see a doctor as soon as we arrive in the Caribbean,” Louis stated.

“Antoine will be there along with Douglas. They’ll fly back with us to New Orleans.” Michael reached up to place the ice on Mikayla’s eyes.

She moaned then tried to turn her head.

“Shhh, leave it there, sugar. It’s for bringing down the swelling.”

She reached up, grunting in pain, and pushed the ice off her eyes.

“Michael? Oh God, Michael, is that you? I thought I was hallucinating,” she stated then began to cry. Michel scooted down next to her and gently pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve got you, baby, and we’re headed home,” he whispered as he caressed her back and held her to him. Marcel reached for the blanket and covered them up.

“We’ll leave you two alone.” He exchanged glances with Michael then Julien and Louis before they headed out of the room.

As the boat pulled into the marina, Marcel, Julien, and Remi saw the crowd of people headed toward the boat. Marcel smiled wide. They had their own welcoming committee. There was Angelique, Armand, and Eloi; Johnny, Gustave, Franco, and Illeanna; Antoine, Douglas, Pierre, and Angelina; and Ellena. The entire family was there and all headed toward the boat.

“Hey, Michael, we’ve got company!” Marcel yelled down to him.

“Good company or bad company?” Michael asked.

“The best kind! Family!” Julien stated, and the excitement filled the docks surrounding the boat.

“Where is she?” Antoine asked with Douglas, Pierre, and Mikayla’s sisters following him.

Julien and Louis stopped Illeanna and pulled her into a group hug. They took turns kissing her then told her to let Antoine check Mikayla out first.

“Is she okay? Did he hurt her?” Illeanna asked.

“Yeah, why can’t we see her now?” Ellena asked, sounding ready to fight them.

“Let Antoine look her over, honey,” Marcel stated.

“Marcel? Is it serious?” Angelique asked, and he went to her, gently placing his hand over her belly and smiling before pulling her into his arms to hug her.

He whispered in her ear.

“He beat her, honey, but she’s alive.”

* * * *

Antoine entered the cabin with Douglas and Pierre following behind him.

He stopped in his tracks as he saw the large cloth covering her face except for her mouth. A blanket was pulled high to her chest and she appeared to be sleeping.

Michael swallowed hard then smiled.

“I’m glad to see you guys,” he whispered.

“How bad is it, Michael? I have an ambulance on standby,” Antoine said.

“She’ll need to be checked over, maybe some X-rays. There’s a lot of swelling and bruising.”

Antoine could hear the intensity in Michael’s voice. “Let me take a look.”

Antoine switched positions with Michael and leaned on the bed next to Mikayla. He slowly began to take the towel off her eyes, and the sight of the bruising and swelling made him sick with anger and concern.

“Fuck!” Douglas whispered. Pierre climbed onto the other side of the bed.

Mikayla moaned.

“It’s okay, baby. We’re going to take you to the hospital now,” Antoine whispered then began to pull the covers off of her. With each inch he pulled away from her body his anger and concern grew greater.

“Antoine, what do we do?” Pierre asked.

“Antoine?” Mikayla whispered. Then she moved her hand to try and reach up. She cringed from the pain.

Antoine touched her hand, trying not to grip any part of her that was bruised.

“It’s okay, sugar. I’m here and so are Pierre and Douglas.”

“It hurts worse than before,” she stated as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Pierre got up off the bed and exited the room. He couldn’t handle the pain she was in. Douglas reached over and touched her shoulder.

“I love you, Mikayla. I’m so sorry I left you alone and gave him the opportunity to…Antoine’s going to take good care of you.”

Douglas looked at Antoine. He couldn’t finish his sentence. Douglas felt that her abduction was all his fault. No matter what they told him, Douglas felt responsible.

“I’ll get the paramedics on the dock. See if we can move her as little as possible.”

“Good idea. The sooner I have her at a hospital the better,” Antoine whispered. He hadn’t even had a chance to ask Michael if Flores was dead or alive. He prayed that the bastard was dead and that he’d suffered.

* * * *

Mikayla was exhausted, and it seemed that Antoine had asked the physicians on duty to run every damn possible test there was to run on her. He was overly cautious and she loved him for it, but she just wanted out of the damn hospital. Finally they were releasing her and taking her back to the hotel for one night. By tomorrow morning they would all head back to New Orleans on Pierre’s private company jet.

She owed them all so much. Her sisters filled her in on what had happened and how Michael, Marcel, Julien, Remi, and Louis went in on their own and rescued her. They told her about Leon and his brothers helping out in town and about everyone’s part in trying to get to her.

She was grateful when she saw the nurse wheel in the wheelchair to escort her to Pierre’s waiting car. They were headed to the hotel. She was worried about Douglas. He was very quiet and hardly touched her. Michael, Pierre, and Antoine kissed her as often as they could and gently so as not to bother the bruises. She knew she was a sight to see. One glance in the hospital bathroom mirror and she cringed. Everyone who came to see her had the same expressions. They were all worried.

Pierre helped her into the chair nicely and slowly. They exited the hospital, and she inhaled as the scent of tropical flowers. The warm Caribbean air filled her. She closed her eyes against the glare of the sun and smiled.

“I hate hospitals.”

“Thanks a lot,” Antoine replied then chuckled.

“You know what I mean. I want to bask in the sun when we get to the hotel, Dr. Fromm. Can I, please? It feels so nice against my skin.”

He took her hand then placed an arm around her waist. He kissed her temple lightly then whispered, “Whatever makes you happy, Mikayla. I love you.” He helped her into the limo. Pierre was there with open arms and ready to have her snuggle against him. She tightened up her body at all the movement, and Antoine cursed under his breath.