Saving Brigit (19 page)

“Some of us don’t for long. Brigit is strong and knows the best way is to make herself desirable to the men who come to us.”

Dread filled Thia. “What happens when they lose interest?”

Fatima shrugged. “The Claw has many ways to exploit women.”

A door opened and Fatima quickly moved off. A guard came to the edge of the pool and said something to her. Thia watched, trying to decipher body language.

At last Fatima pulled herself up onto the pool skirting and turned to her. “You will want food and then rest. Something will be brought to our room, as they do not want you in the food hall yet. Are you feeling better?”

Fatima held up a towel, shielding Thia’s body from the man. “Then come. I will begin your instruction.” She wrapped the towel around Thia and began rubbing away the moisture. “I have unguents and lotions to soothe your aching muscles. And don’t worry,” she added in a low voice, “You will have a reprieve from the pleasure rooms for a week or more while you learn our ways.”

Thank God for that.
“How do you do this? How do you keep on?”

“By remembering this is our fate. The alterative is a very unpleasant death, so we must accept it and live it the best way we can.” Fatima slipped the leather leash over Thia’s neck.

Thia fought the instinct to rip the noose off. “I don’t know if I can accept this,” Thia said to herself as much as to Fatima.

Fatima stared at her. “Then you bring ruin on yourself. And on me, and, I believe, on Brigit.” Thia’s dread must have shown on her face because Fatima nodded. “That is what keeps us going. Not hope. There is none. But the desire to prevent harm from ourselves and others. Have a care what you say and do. Your actions do not affect only yourself.”

My God, what have I gotten myself into?

The blood drained from Brigit’s face. “Say that again.”

Fatima shot a quick glance around the courtyard where they strolled, then tugged on Brigit’s arm. “Shhh! Keep moving, and stop looking so shocked. I said your aunt is here. She calls herself Thia.”

Thia?
Brigit forced herself to walk along beside Fatima, but all the while, her mind spun. The only Thia Brigit knew was her Aunt July’s boss. They’d been close a few years ago, and Thia had always been good to her, but whoever this person was, it couldn’t be the same woman. Thia Williams might be concerned for her, but she was an accountant, for heaven’s sake. She’d be concerned back in San Francisco. Brigit wished she could ask for a description, but since Fatima believed the woman was her aunt, that idea was out.

“But…” The thought made her spirits soar. Her heart raced, and she could hardly keep from singing. She hadn’t been forgotten after all! The hidden garden painted on her wall had grown to cover the width of her bed, each flower representing a day she’d lived on her own and entertained men in the pleasure rooms. She’d intended the garden to be a symbol of hope, but deep inside she’d begun to believe no one would come for her.

“I-I can’t believe it. How did she find me?” Though it couldn’t be Thia,
someone
was here, as she’d wished and dreamed of for weeks.

“She didn’t say. I told her I would let you know she was here. She won’t be able to speak with you while she is being mentored.”

“
What?
Oh my God!” Brigit covered her face with her hands and tried to stop the tears. What a cruel joke. As quickly as her hopes had risen, they plummeted. Her so-called rescuer was a captive, too. “Then…then she won’t be able to get me out.” Brigit tried to control her tears as she swung around to face her companion.

Fatima winced at Brigit’s outburst and surveyed their area once more. “I don’t believe so,” she murmured. “She is with me to be trained.”

“I’ve got to see her,” Brigit said, moving again.

“So you shall,” Fatima said in her quiet, musical voice. “But you must remember not to show emotion. There are eyes and ears everywhere. Your love for each other will be a weapon in their hands.”

Brigit snorted in disgust. “I don’t forget anything about this place.”

A guard stood on the edge of the yard watching them. Fatima’s expression was somber. “Good. For her sake as well as your own.” He started their way. Fatima bent to smell a rose. So low only Brigit could hear she said, “There is always the chance this is a trick. After all, no one could know you came here from Pakistan, could they? Be very careful. Beware of anyone who asks about her.” She graced Brigit with a smile and strolled away.

Brigit cast a frown at the guard who continued in her direction.
I’ve got one nerve left, asshole. Don’t step on it.
She crossed her arms and glared, waiting to see if he was coming for her. He was.

“You have been requested.”

“But I’m not ready. I haven’t bathed yet or applied my makeup.”

“Not yet.” Brigit started to walk away when a shock zapped through her. She turned to see the guard drop the cattle prod to his side. Her arm still tingled, but she was stunned more than hurt.

“Why you little—“

Fine.
Whoever wanted her at this time of day deserved what he got.

“Well, okay,” she growled out. “Let’s get this over.”

The guard pivoted, and she followed him to a large pleasure room she hadn’t been in before. A dark man waited, lounging at a low, brass table like those that seemed to be in all of the rooms. He stood when she entered.

He wasn’t overly tall or handsome, but he was striking. His eyelids were hooded, but that didn’t hide a primal hunger. His eyes flashed when he inspected her, head to foot. His expression indicated he didn’t care if she had on makeup or had spent an hour in a pool of jasmine-scented water. This man wanted her no matter the situation, with an intensity she hadn’t seen in any man she’d met there.

He frightened her, yet sparked a flame of desire she hadn’t felt in a long time. For weeks, she’d known her very life depended on making men desire her. She’d forgotten she could feel desire, too.

He stepped forward and so did she, willingly, until they stood a breath apart. The female servant came forward, but he waved her off.

He looked over his shoulder. “Leave us,” he commanded the male who stood watch in the corner.

“It is not allowed.”

“Fuck the rules.”

Brigit couldn’t see the man’s expression, but she saw the guard’s. His held fear, uncertainty. and then a grudging respect of authority. Who was this man? Finally, the guard jerked his head toward the door, and the female servant scurried out.

“
I
will not leave,” the guard said in a play for dignity. But he crossed to the other side of the room where he leaned against the wall at an angle, facing away.

Presumably content that he’d gained all he could, the man faced her again. “Better,” he muttered. “Is it not, Brigit?”

She snapped her head up to see his eyes. “How do you know me?” she whispered.

“I know a lot about you.” He leaned closer yet. “I came here with Thia. She’s your aunt, right?”

Brigit stiffened. Only minutes ago, Fatima had warned her that her captors might try to trip her up about Thia, and now here was a guest acting unlike the usual man who visited the pleasure rooms. Power like he’d displayed could only come from one source, the prison’s warden and owner, the Claw. Hell, she didn’t even know if the person in question
was
Thia Williams. But someone was with Fatima, and she said she was Brigit’s aunt. Far be it from her to change the story when she had no idea what was happening.

“You know she’s here, don’t you?” He ran his hands over her breasts after giving a quick glance at the guard.

“I heard my aunt arrived,” she said hesitantly. “I haven’t seen her or spoken to her myself.”

His eyes smoldered. He dropped his gaze to watch his hand in motion. “We’re planning to get you out of here.”

This was it then. Not a trick but a test. They thought she’d join with someone to try something stupid. If she failed, she’d be punished and all she’d worked so hard for, all the optimism she’d fought to build, would be for nothing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She searched his face for some hint of perfidy, but what she saw was surprise. “And I certainly am not interested in leaving.”

He grasped her wrists and yanked them behind her back. She grunted in pain, but he didn’t relent. When he spoke, his breath brushed her cheek. “Thia risked her life to get here, and you don’t want to leave?”

Brigit wanted to believe him. Her heart leapt at the idea she might be saved after all. But could she take the chance? Not just with her life, but possibly with Fatima’s or the yet unknown woman’s? Weeks of being there had taught her one thing at least—trust no one.

“My masters take care of me.”

He studied her eyes. “You little
slut
.” Whipping a knife from his pocket, he held the tip under her chin. A prick of pain let her know he’d nicked the skin. He breathed heavily. A hair couldn’t have fit between their lips. “We came here to save you. If you now betray us, I’ll kill you myself.”

“If you want to fuck, let’s fuck. Otherwise, maybe you’ll let me get back to my day.”

Slowly, he ran the knife down the front of her clothing. The edge must have been sharp as a finely honed razor. It sliced through her thin, see-through top and then her gauzy slacks like a piano wire through Gruyere. In seconds, she stood before him naked. His gaze raked her body. His breath quickened.

He brought his hand back to her breast and teased her nipple, coaxing it to a stiff point. In a lazy move, he ran his tongue over her lips. She moaned, and not just pretending a sensual need.

She wanted this man in a way she hadn’t dared dream for so long. But why? There was something about him, a sense of power and command that came from more than being a client of her keepers. The way he held himself, his tightly controlled emotions and determination to prevail over all life’s doings came through in every move, every look. She’d never met a man like him before, for she believed there could only be a few in the world like him. She kept her hands behind her back, though, for if she touched him, she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop.

“
If
we are going to fuck,” he whispered, inserting his hands between them and unfastening his loose slacks. His cock sprang free and immediately sought her. He caught one arm around her waist and used the other to lift her leg over his hip. “Oh, yes, we are going to fuck.” Unerringly, he drove his cock home.

Brigit’s knees gave out, but he held her. She groaned. He stifled the sound with his mouth. She threw her arms around his neck. He angled his head and nuzzled her lips with his mouth, driving her crazy and pushing her to the edge of reason.

His shaft stroked her clit with each thrust. She jerked her hips forward. He met her, hard, fast. He crushed her against him. Her breasts met his chest. Her nipples scraped his shirt and sent her nerves screaming through her body.

She scrabbled up his legs, climbing him until he lifted her to wrap her legs around his waist. He went deep, immediately taking advantage of her wide open pussy.

He was right. She was a slut. At that moment, all she wanted was sex, to be filled over and over, rubbed and stroked until she came like an animal. With this man, she could picture it happening. She could feel it in him as his thick cock sank into her again and again.

Suddenly she came. Tearing her mouth from his, she threw her head back, panting. His lips found her neck. His tongue swirled over her pulse point where he sucked, drawing her skin into his mouth at the same moment he shot his cum into her body. Brigit thought she’d die from the fireworks going off inside her. She almost wanted to, right now, before any other man touched her. He’d ruined her.

But she knew being his alone wasn’t about to happen.

The man let her slide down his body. She collapsed on the floor. For the first time, no woman rushed forward to clean her or help her to her knees to continue servicing the man whom she’d just screwed. In essence, for the first time, she was almost alone with a man. Even with the guard in the corner, this seemed intimate.

On her back, she bent her knees. His cum dribbled to the floor. He watched her as she did him.

“Just another man.”

She shook her head. Approval crossed his face. He ripped his shirt over his head and stepped out of his slacks before crouching beside her.

“Get on your knees.” His voice held no softness. He could have been any of the other dozen or so men she’d been with since arriving in hell. She obeyed without question, her heart sinking.

He bent over her back and rubbed his semi-flaccid cock against her ass. In what seemed like moments, he hardened. When he found the passage to her pussy, his strokes were long and sure. He ran his tongue down her spine and then back up until his mouth hovered close to her ear.

“I am called Rashid,” he murmured. “And you had better be ready to leave when Thia tells you to, or you’ll get your wish. You’ll be here until your dying day.”

A hulking guard led Derek into a cozy room. If he hadn’t known the fortress was composed of rock and mountain, cold and indifferent to man, he would have thought he visited a drawing room in a posh London townhome.

Oriental carpets ablaze with brilliant floral designs topped dark wood floors. The glass-fronted gas fireplace sent heat into the room, and leather upholstered furniture beckoned, both in front of the fire and before the laden bookshelves on the opposite wall. Based on the room’s decor, he might have thought his host, coming toward with him hand outstretched, was a gentleman. Derek knew him to be a greedy, murdering son of a bitch, a real danger to the world and, just as important to Derek, a danger to Thia.

“We meet at last, Mr. Lowry,” the Claw said as they shook hands.

Stephen Lowry, former Marine and current mercenary, was Derek’s cover. The government provided him with two generations of patriotic American ancestors, which should have made him an even more intriguing arms dealer, one willing to buy and possibly use weapons stolen from his own government.