Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) (54 page)

“Or if you’ve got dirty cops looking the other way,” Rick suggested.

“And enough money to grease the right palms,” T put in.

Mara nodded. “I get it. No wonder you guys were on edge.”

“This isn’t the first time security has been breached, darlin’,” Cap concluded, “and unfortunately, it won’t be the last.”

“It’s a hell of a mess,” came from Lil T as he swept the chaotic scene.

“Agreed,” Cap said, turning as well. “They’ll be reviewing surveillance tapes for weeks to see how it all went down.”

“About those injured,” Sean redirected, his eyes seeking out Dex. “Where is EMS?”

“I only saw two medics and S.W.A.T. Unless more have arrived, they definitely have more vics than they can manage.”

“Shit.” Still holding her tight, most likely due to her continued trembling, Sean’s worried eyes dipped to hers. He frowned. “I need to see if I can help.”

“I should go and help, too.”

“No.” This was barked in unison by all six of them.

“I’m okay, really.”

“The scene isn’t secure.” Sean’s eyes rose to Cap.

“We’ll keep her safe,” Cap assured him. “Dex, T, Rick, if you’d help him. Jonas and I will get Mara secured.” He eyed Jonas. “Maybe get Lexie to come by and have a look?”

“Thanks, Cap.” Sean’s worried face angled down to hers. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“No, but I will be now that it’s over.”

Sean dipped his head for a quick kiss. “I love you, baby.”

She smiled weakly in return. “I love you too, Lucky. Are you starting to see why I call you that?”

“After being shot four times, you twice and with everything we’ve been through thanks to the Mendozas, I’m not sure I’d call this luck, baby.”

“That’s a glass half empty way of seeing things. I’ve decided to be an eternal optimist. Think of it this way, you survived, and after all the crap we’ve been through, we’re still together and love one another. I think that’s pretty darn lucky.”

“Considering the odds, it’s a damn miracle.” With a smile, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then handed her off to Cap who wrapped his heavy arm around her shoulders. “Stick with Cap and Jonas. I’ll be home as soon as I can.” The four men then headed off to help how they could.

* * * * *

“Hold this against your head,” Angie urged as she searched the crowded corridor for an available EMT. The few who were there, were all working with other patients. She eyed the forty-something man who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time today, as had she. Planning to catch a moment with Cap, or one of the Rossi men who had not returned her calls all day, she’d come to the courthouse in hopes of catching one of them after the evening recess. Never would she have expected to find this kind of bedlam.

“Apply pressure until the bleeding stops, sir. One of the EMT’s will be with you soon I’m sure.”

Spying a flustered woman wandering unsteadily down a side hall, her blouse ripped and stained with dirt—no visible blood, thank goodness—Angie started her way next. A few steps from where she’d turned a corner, she cried out as a sharp pain seared her side.

“I know you went to IA and the feds about me, bitch. That’s my little way of saying thanks.” As she fell to her knees, her world spinning and turning gray, she stared up at the man standing over her. In spite of his face shadowed by a wide brimmed hat and partially obscured by a shaggy beard, she recognized him and the hate-filled black scowl glaring down at her. Richard Stapleton. She tried to call out, but all she could manage was a wheeze. Her hand clasped her side where a blistering heat burned into her, as though a red-hot poker was stuck between her ribs. It felt wet. She held up her hand. As expected, her fingers were covered with blood. Angie crumpled to the floor, rolling to her back.

His spiteful malevolence would forever haunt her dreams. If she had dreams, that is. She had to survive his attack, first. He bent to her and she cringed away, moaning as the movement tripled her agony. But he only callously wiped the knife, stained with her own blood, on her blouse before folding it away.

“Someone help. He’s got a knife,” a woman screamed.

“That’s my cue to go.” He chuckled again as he winked down at her. “See you in hell, bitch.”

He was gone.

Helpless and panting for air, she stared up at the white ceiling. No, it was gray, with little black specks.

“Angie!” A familiar voice called to her from somewhere far off. She turned her head trying to respond but pain cut into her. Closing her eyes, she found the beckoning darkness appealing.

The voice called to her again, much closer.

“Angie, my god!”

A bright swath of light flashed as something pressed hard against her side. Her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus.

“Stay with me, darlin’. Don’t close those pretty brown eyes.”

She made her best guess. “Cap?”

“No, Ang, it’s T. Help is on the way.” He turned to shout, “I need a paramedic over here.”

“I’m here, T.” A new man spoke, his voice also familiar. She tried to focus on his face, but the black specks had grown larger, pushing out the patches of whitish gray.

“She’s bleeding badly, Sean.”

“I know, T, hold pressure like you are. We’ve gotta get her to the hospital.”

“It hurts.” She sounded faint and like she was speaking from miles away, but that couldn’t be.

“Hang on, Angie,” Sean encouraged softly, then said more harshly to someone else, “Where are the fucking EMT’s?”

“T?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I wanted to say…”

“Don’t talk, sweetheart, save your strength.”

“Won’t get a chance to if I don’t—” She coughed and searing pain shot through her chest.

“Her lung is collapsed, dammit. I need a medic and O2.”

“I’ve got oxygen in the rig, sir,” came a shaky reply.

“Bring it, and a stretcher stat. She’s critical,” Sean barked.

Through her pain and panic, Angie could barely make out the shadowed form standing over her. He was scared, and young—a kid—twenty at most. “I’m on a ride along for my EMT class. I don’t know anything yet and there aren’t enough paramedics for all the injured.”

“She can’t wait. I’ll do it myself,” Sean growled. “Haul over that stretcher and take us to your rig.”

“But, sir, I—”

“Don’t argue, boy,” ordered T. “He’s a medical Sergeant with over ten years in the field. He for damn sure has seen more chest trauma than your paramedics have. Now move.”

Running footsteps were followed by a clattering by her ear. She turned toward it—more pain—the smallest movement making the hot knife return. Needing air, she tried to suck in a breath.

“Lie still, Angie. We’re going to get you fixed up,” Sean encouraged. “T, don’t let up on that pressure while I lift her.”

She cried out as strong arms scooped her up and set her back down on a stiff mattress.

“I know it hurts, darlin’, but Sean’s the best medic around. He’ll pull you through.”

His features blurred as the dark spots gathered.

“Too late.” Without air, she could barely whisper.

“Don’t say that, sweetheart. Stay with us.”

“T? I really did want—” she coughed again, gasping in pain.

“Don’t talk. We’re almost there.”

“I should have… I wanted to—”

She was jostled, and then lifted. Not in arms this time, on the stretcher, the jarring movements sending pain lancing through her side. Doors slammed.

“Hand me that oxygen mask, T,” Sean demanded as a siren wailed. The next instant, she moaned as the ambulance lurched forward.

“Precious cargo, man,” T yelled to the front.

“Not that one,” Sean ordered, “the one with the holes, and turn that dial by your left shoulder to 8 litres.” A plastic mask was positioned over her nose and mouth. “Now I need a needle.” She heard drawers opening and slamming shut around the roaring in her ears. “Driver,” Sean barked. “Where are the large gauge needles?”

“Middle bay, left side… I think,” came his reply.

“Got it. Stay with me, Angie. Your lung is collapsed, but I’m going to make it easier for you to breathe. You’re going to feel a stick in your side. I won’t lie, darlin’, this is gonna hurt, but in a minute, you’ll be able to breathe.” His face appeared over hers. She noticed his eyes were a brilliant blue, like the Texas sky—beautiful. “You watch, T, okay? Don’t take your eyes off his ugly mug.”

Her gaze shifted, finding dark brown pools surrounded by long curly black lashes. Ugly? Antonio Minelli was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. In her befuddled state she realized Sean was trying to distract her from the pain as a sharp poke followed—not quite the ‘stick’ he’d described—though compared to the burning fire from the knife and the pressure bearing down on her chest, it was nothing.

“I’m in, Angie,” Sean stated, his hands against her as he worked. A loud ripping sound rent the air and cool air bathed her chest and belly. He’d ripped open her shirt. “Now let me see where that bastard hurt you.”

His image was fading. The pain was too much and the black spots were taking over, merging into one. “Tell T…”

“I’m right here, darlin’.”

Her head rolled toward the voice. It sounded like him, but she couldn’t see. Panicked, she tried to get her message out, fearing it was now or never. “Sean?”

“I’m here, Angie, but try not to talk.”

“Tell T for me…” brokenly, her voice trailed off, her strength fading, but she pressed on. “I wanted to say yes, but I was too scared. Now,” she sucked in, but still felt breathless, “I’ll never know what it would have been like.” with the last of her air, she wheezed out, “to love him.”

Faintly, she heard a deep voice say in a harsh whisper, “Fuck me.” Then the insidious blackness, like a dark, oppressive cloud encompassed her and she knew nothing more.

Epilogue

A warm hand stroked over her belly moving upward. Lying in a soft comfortable cloud of sweet scented linens, she hadn’t a care in the world and let it explore. Her breasts swelled and her nipples tightened anticipating they were next to be stroked, rubbed, pinched and rolled by the confident, magical fingers. Shy of her chest by a millimeter, the hand changed directions. She exhaled, short of a whimper as it slid in reverse, nails lightly scratching on the return trip. Her belly rippled as the fingers traversed the slightly concave surface and moved to more interesting parts below. She opened her eyes, ready to beg him for more, but found darkness. She also discovered that her wrists were bound over her head.

“Sean?”

“Who else would have you bound to a bed, nightingale?”

“Uh, no one... What’s happening?”

“It’s punishment time. I told you your day of reckoning was today.”

“Yes, but… um, Master?”

“What, baby?”

“I, uh, assumed you were teasing.”

“When have I ever teased about punishing your delectable ass, hm?”

Suddenly, she was flipped over and pillows, at least three, were stacked under her hips.

“Legs open,” came his firm command.

Without the slightest delay, she obeyed. The fingers resumed their slow exploration, gliding up the back of her thighs and over the hills of her upraised bottom.

“Why are you being punished, Mara?”

Already aroused, she sounded breathy as she spoke. “I, well… there are so many things I must atone for that I started a list.”

“You did?” Surprise infused his words.

“Yes, I couldn’t keep up, and you seemed to forget, so I started writing them down.”

“Did you actually think I forgot?”

“It’s been some time since Galveston, so, yeah; I kind of assumed that you did.”

Against her ear, he rumbled deep, “Wrong. I remember everything about you.”

A shiver coursed down her back as her heart rate accelerated. Words and his wonderful voice were all the foreplay she ever needed.

“Where is it?”

“Huh?” Already distracted, she wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was.

She heard his low chuckle. “You’re list, baby.”

“Oh. In my middle vanity drawer.”

The bed shifted as he moved off, shifting back a minute later. Paper crackled, followed by a low whistle. “This is a long list of transgressions, nightingale.”

“I’ve been bad, huh?”

“Certainly not as bad as all this, there are at least twenty-five items on this list.”

“I thought I was pretty awful.”

“You’re too tough on yourself. Good thing I’m in charge of discipline. There are only three misbehaviors on this list that I would punish you for, Mara.” He ticked off some of the lesser offenses. “Forgetting the dry cleaning—really, baby?—and what’s this about going over budget on shoes? I never set a limit. I want you to buy as many fuck me shoes as you like. It’s a win-win for us both.”

“I set the limit for myself.”

“Hm… then maybe I should let you spank yourself for it.”

“Lucky!” she replied, half groan/half gasp.

“You like the sound of that, as do I.”

Smooth and sultry, his laugh was pure seduction. She wiggled over the pillows as her pussy responded with steamy anticipation.

“Ah, but I digress. There are three reasons you are lying naked, bound and blindfolded, with your beautiful ass elevated for my attention. Name them.”

“The worst of the worst on my list, you mean?”

“Yes, but here’s a hint, only two of my three are on it.”

“The first has to be leaving you and with only that awful note as an explanation. You never spanked me for it and you really should have.”

“That’s one. Next?”

“Lying, keeping things from you and not trusting you when Victor was blackmailing me.”

“That’s several lumped together, but yes, that’s what I have for transgression two. No more lies between us. What’s number three?”

As she tried to focus, Sean’s hand stroking over the backs of her thighs, gliding up and over her cheeks, then back down, with his fingers slipping into the cleft wasn’t helping. The distraction was simply too much to ignore, though she tried, reviewing the list in her mind, settling on one, only to discard it for another. But wait, he said it wasn’t on the list, so she had to think beyond that.