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Michael’s cold iron gaze met hers. Sarah froze into place, like a deer sighted by a predator. The urge to flee rose inside her. Screw this. Damn Bobby for getting kidnapped. She could rush back to the elevators … but Randy would block her exit. Besides, even if she got out, Sarah refused to spend the rest of her life knowing she turned coward and left her friend to die.

  “Hello, my dear cunt wife,” Michael crooned.

  He took a couple of steps towards her. Sarah gritted her teeth, standing her ground. She clenched her fists, remembering how she hated this part the most, not knowing when Michael would show her his sadistic side.

  “Look at you. Anyone can mistake you for some drug-addicted whore who’ll sell herself for a fix.” He sneered.

  Sarah flinched when his hand rose, but he only tugged her half-closed hoodie and yanked it open. He edged closer. Michael’s fist blurred, and Sarah felt his blow connecting to the side of her jaw. The force of it sent her stumbling. A familiarly vicious left hook caught her ribs, stealing her next breath.

  She nearly fell, but he gripped a handful of her hair. Pain streaked from her scalp, making her eyes water, but Sarah bit her lip hard until it bled. She refused to give him the satisfaction. No doubt Michael would be wrangling screams from her soon enough, but that was later.

  Michael hauled her back up to her feet using her hair.

  “Tell me, cunt. How much did your wealthy sugar daddies pay you for one night? Their cum still drying in your holes?” Michael hissed against her ear. He grabbed a handful of her shirt with his free hand, and the fabric tore with one yank, exposing her upper body.

  Sarah spat out blood and met his gaze, showing him all the insolence she’d regained. “They certainly made use of me better than you ever did. At least they can always make me aroused and wet. All you've ever fucked was a dry cunt."

  Pain exploded in her left cheek. Michael wrapped his long fingers around her neck and began to squeeze. He wouldn’t kill her, though. Only knock her out. Sarah’s eyes watered, and her lungs burned. Eventually, her vision began to blur.

  “It’s clear I need to start re-educating you again. I’m actually looking forward to it,” were the last words she heard from her husband.

  ****

  Throat parched, body aching, Sarah groaned the next time she regained consciousness. A chill caressed her naked flesh, making her shiver. Some kind of coarse texture bit at her wrists and ankles. Sarah took deep breaths and forced her eyes opened. Naked, her entire body had been stretched to its limits in a figure X. She tried tugging at her restraints. Nothing. The rope binding her arms was snugly tied to the hook embedded in the ceiling, and those on her ankles were secured to matching hooks on the floor.

  Being exposed like this in front of Damon, Jared, maybe a curious crowd at the club, would instantly make her hot and bothered. Here, in a windowless room Michael furnished with what looked like medieval torture devices, Sarah reacted like an animal caught in a trap. Unlike the rest of the house, the room was bare. Only a single light bulb cast a dim glow around the space, highlighting the walls meticulously lined with whips and chains, floggers and canes Michael had no idea how to use.

  Sarah grew still as Michael came into her line of sight, still dressed in his impeccable suit. Randy, she noticed, stood by the doorway, facing her bound figure, ugly smirk on his face.

  “Don’t expend too much energy fighting the inevitable. You’ll need your strength,” Michael crooned in that annoying voice of his that made it sound like he was talking to a small child or an animal.

  “Bobby,” she rasped. “You promised to let him go.”

  He gave her a dismissive wave. “I gave my word. Randy dropped the pathetic sack by the dumpster near his apartment.”

  “Is he alive?” Sarah whispered, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

  “Of course. Well, depending on how you define alive. Someone better get him to an emergency room soon.”

  She breathed easy. Bobby was a fighter. As long as he was out of Michael’s grasp, she knew he’d live. Be reunited with James. She hoped with time, he’d forget the scars Michael gave him. Forgive her for dragging him into this mess.

  “You’re not afraid of Bobby and James babbling to the authorities?” Sarah asked.

  She knew it was a redundant question because friends in high places made Michael invincible. Besides, even if Bobby and James pooled their resources with Damon and Jared, it might be too late.

  Michael caressed the ring of bruises around her throat, gathered the sweat between her breasts with his fingertips. His touch made her skin crawl. Michael frowned as he traced her ink, his face twisting to barely concealed rage.

  “What have you done to your beautiful body, Sarah?”

  “I made it better. At least the tats hide the ruin you made of it.” That remark earned her a backhanded slap. Knowing Michael, it equated to a gentle reprimand before the big show.

  “I’ll need to talk to a specialist to laser off these ugly things,” he muttered.

  Michael pinched her tits in a detached matter, like a merchant examining his goods, before his hand tugged at her clit ring and fingered her cunt. Sarah gritted her teeth as he slid one finger into her dry pussy. He pulled it out, distasteful expression on his face.

  “No matter. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be on your knees, eager and pliant, panting for whatever kindness I’ll allow.”

  A blatant lie. Despite his calm exterior, Michael barely held himself together. The signs were there. In the stiff way he held himself and how he did his best to hide his shaking hands from her.

  He’d break her, but he wouldn’t be able to put her back together to play with again. Come dawn, he’d be left with a corpse. Sarah supposed a quick death would be comparatively better than the slow one she initially envisioned on her way here. She imagined that would be best for the people she loved. With her gone, Bobby and James wouldn’t need to worry so much about her. Damon and Jared could move on and find a replacement sub.

  Jesus. Each time she thought about that, it unexpectedly hurt. Michael walked to the wall of toys and took his time selecting the first instrument he’d torment her with. She dully watched him finger the handle of a cherry wood whip, caress the vicious tails of a flogger with metal bits attached to the ends, before he settled on a single-tailed whip.

  “This is no fun. It’s like torturing a corpse,” Randy remarked in a disgusted voice. “Christ, Michael. She’s more fucked-up than you mentioned.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Michael hollered, breaking character.

  Sarah winced when he pulled his arm back, and the tip of the single tail barely missed Randy’s boots by an inch. Dead, Randy called her, and maybe he was right. She no longer had it in her to claw and fight, to cling to life and survive, especially after the horrible way she ended things with Damon and Jared. She wished she could have done things differently. Maybe lie her ass off and tell them she was going on a holiday.

  Hell, Sarah wanted a lot of things, but the time for wishing was over.

  “I’m going to remain outside. Watch the security feeds,” Randy muttered.

  “Do that.” Michael ran a hand over his slightly mussed up hair before stalking back to her. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve waited to do this again.”

  Michael mashed his lips against hers. When he released her, she spat at him. That earned her another love tap that broke her nose. Again. She tasted her own blood, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. He snarled, wiping her spit with the back of his hand.

  “Cunt, you’re going to pay for that.”

  “Show me. All you do is keep talking.”

  Sarah bit back a cry as he swung his arm back and let the whip fly. The first strike instantly drew a line of blood across her bruised ribs. He’d paint both her back and front in red, she knew. All Sarah could hope for was Michael accidentally hitting a vital part and cutting this freak show short.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Here?” Jared asked Da
mon, peering at the Sapphire II from the tinted windows of Damon’s car.

  “My sources confirmed it. Witnesses mentioned seeing a young woman fitting Sarah’s description with a large fucker who looked like a bodyguard. She’ll stand out, especially dressed the way she left the apartment, in this kind of neighborhood,” Damon explained, parking the car a street away from the building.

  The black unmarked car tailing them dutifully parked behind their vehicle. Damon knew the four-man security team who worked for one of his security firms. All were hardened and seasoned ex-Marines he could rely on, some he even served with in the past. None of them spared any expense in bringing extra ammunition.

  They got out of the car and hid from sight at the back of an empty alleyway with Damon’s crew.

  “You called your guy at the force?” Damon asked.

  “Yeah, and as long as we do this clean and fast—no one’s going to ask questions,” Jared confirmed as they both strapped on bulletproof vests underneath their shirts. Damon wasn’t worried about his brother. Jared might not have his experience, but he knew how to handle a gun.

  “According to the scout I sent out, Rivers didn’t employ much security. His main man was the asshole who drove Sarah here. There are two others manning cameras.” Damon quickly updated everyone there. James asked him why he didn’t leave the work to the professionals. After Damon reminded James they both liked doings things hands-on and up close and personal, James backed off.

  Jared’s phone rang. By the time Jared finished his call, Damon had finished briefing his men.

  “Good news or bad?” Damon asked.

  “Just got word Bobby’s back with James. He took Bobby to the hospital.”

  “Lucky fucker. He better pray Sarah’s intact,” Damon muttered angrily.

  “Damon, I need you to be here with us. Can you get a handle on your emotions?” Jared asked cautiously.

  Damon growled at his brother. “Let’s get this done so I can sink a bullet into that fucker’s face.”

  It was easy enough getting the building blueprint for the Sapphire II. Keeping out of sight had been his team’s specialty. They didn’t meet any obstacles or anyone else as they entered the building through its back doors and the seldom-used emergency lift. Midway up, Damon split their group into two so they could cover more ground. Jared, Damon, and Jerry, one of the ex-Marines, took the stairs.

  After minutes passed, Damon called up the team leader, Jax, through an untraceable line. Jared leaned close to listen in. “How’s the situation? Encountered any problems?”

  “No trouble here, boss. Rivers’ two security men are down. According to the feed set up in the apartment, the big one’s pacing in the living room.”

  “Did you see Rivers?” Damon asked hopefully, but he knew it couldn’t be that easy.

  “Negative, although the cameras are blind in one area according to the layout of the penthouse.”

  “Must be where Michael is,” Jared muttered.

  “Stay there and monitor the situation. Jared, Jerry, and I will take point,” Damon told Jax and cut the line. He turned to his brother. “Ready to get back what’s ours?”

  “Let’s teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”

  They used the service lift to the penthouse suite. Didn’t bother with disguises or half-assed plans, just the way Damon liked it. When the elevator doors opened, Damon had his favorite shot gun ready. He shot the first bastard who got in the way. He almost missed the large fucker, still dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform, toting a rifle, but Jared had his back. A gun roared. Blood leaked from the neat bullet hole on the guy’s forehead.

  “What the hell, Randy? Did I tell you—” The door to one of the rooms swung open, revealing a face Damon had only seen in photos.

  “Michael Rivers,” Damon hissed. “You took something of ours.”

  The asshole’s face twisted, but he wasn’t dumb. Michael slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Fuck,” Jared muttered under his breath.

  “Stand watch,” Damon told Jerry. Jared and he walked cautiously to the door. When Jared raised his handgun, Damon grabbed his arm. “Sarah might be in there.”

  Jared took a deep breath and nodded. Damon yanked the door open. It wasn’t even locked.

  “Take a step further, and I’ll blow her brains out,” Michael hollered, face purple.

  For a second, Damon couldn’t comprehend the scene. The windowless room was stripped of furnishings except the tools hanging on the walls and the slumped figure hanging in the middle. Damon didn’t know where to look. Something inside him had snapped, seeing Sarah’s limp figure. Blood and bruises painted her gorgeous body crimson and purple. With her eyes closed and half her face a red mask, Damon almost thought her dead, except he saw the pathetic rise and fall of her chest.

  “You selfish bastard,” Jared spat.

  “Put down your fucking weapons. I run the show here.” Michael sneered, pressing the barrel of a custom-handled, gold-plated revolver against the side of Sarah’s bowed head.

  Jared growled, but Damon took a step forward. “You’re not getting out of this clean, Michael. The police are coming.”

  Michael snorted. “They can’t touch me.”

  “Can the Feds? I hear they’re very interested about the less-than-savory aspects of your business,” Damon said.

  Michael’s smile faltered. Damon didn’t need to look behind him to know Jared had taken position, ready to draw his gun at a second’s notice. “That’s right, fucker. You think you’re the only one with friends? They’re only small fish in a very large ocean.”

  Damon knew how to handle pompous monsters like Michael who used their wealth and influence to get whatever they wanted. Pull all their assets from underneath their feet, and they became like everyone else.

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, you upstart prick,” Michael hissed, taking a step towards him, forgetting his human shield.

  Certain he wouldn’t hit Sarah, Jared fired, shooting Michael in the left kneecap. The bastard howled, dropping his gun as he went down. Damon calmly kicked the revolver away when Michael reached for it. Jared stepped beside him and shot Michael next in the groin.

  Damon’s neck snapped to Sarah’s direction when he heard a small moan of protest emerge from her lips. To his horror, her eyelids fluttered opened. Confused at first, they regained clarity. Damon hoped the next time Sarah woke up, she’d be in a hospital bed with him and Jared by her side, ready to offer her comfort. Not this on-going nightmare. When Sarah replayed these events in her head, would she finally see the real them? That they could be monsters, too?

  But Damon severely underestimated the woman they loved. Horror and repulsion weren’t the emotions etched on Sarah’s face. Instead, there was fierce approval there. He felt a little ashamed for doubting her. Since the start of their rocky relationship, she always accepted their flaws without question.

  “Jared. End it,” Damon said hoarsely.

  Jared frowned, and then froze when he saw Sarah had regained consciousness. Still, he knew the job, and it was only a matter of time until the building’s residents reported the commotion and sounds of gunfire. Damon glimpsed the flash of steel as Michael’s hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his blazer.

  “Jared!” Damon yelled.

  Jared saw the hidden blade in time, its edge missing his ankle and slicing his leather shoe instead.

  “Fucker,” Damon muttered, kicking at Michaels hand to push the knife away.

  “Enough,” Jared said, then fired his last bullet into Michael Rivers’ head.

  Damon quickly went to Sarah. “Help me take her down.”

  Together, they cut away her restraints. Damon caught her swiftly in his arms, wincing as her freshly lashed back hit his skin. She moaned softly in his arms, light as a feather. Jared tucked aside loose strands of her blood-soaked hair and kissed her cheek.

  “You’re safe now, little one,” Jared whispered. He stepped aside so Damon c
ould lay a kiss on her forehead.

  Weary, but relieved emerald eyes turned to him.

  “From now on, no one can ever hurt you again,” Damon finished.

  “Let’s head home,” Jared added.

  Sarah turned her head slightly to peer at Jared. “Where’s that?” she asked in a small voice.

  “With us, because you’re ours now, baby. Ours to love, cherish, and protect, so you better get used to that,” Jared said, but Sarah had already lost consciousness.

  “Let’s get her to the emergency room quick,” Damon said, finally walking out of the nightmare with Sarah in his arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Month Later

  Sarah woke, her body soaked in sweat, still reliving the same nightmare. Calming her heartbeats, she flung the comforter aside. Inhaled and exhaled, and took in her surroundings. Same bedroom she usually shared with Damon and Jared. She was safe and sound. Like the brothers said, no one else could hurt her now. Sarah didn’t know how they did it, but Michael’s body was never found. He was still on the run from the Feds and was rumored to be halfway around the world by now.

  It was sometimes hard to believe Damon and Jared came in time to save her, to finish off Michael when he was nearly done with her. The doctors said if Damon and Jared had only been a couple of minutes later, she’d be dead. During her bad days, though, Sarah could still intently feel them—the old scars itching. After that, the shakes would come, but Damon or Jared made it a point to never leave her alone in a room. She complained they were missing out on work, but they always brushed it off

  “Another bad dream?” Jared asked. Still soaking wet, he emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a towel around his waist.

  Sarah gave him a small smile. “Dreams can’t hurt me.”

  He regarded her for a couple of minutes. Under his contemplative gaze, Sarah felt completely stripped bare like always. By reflex, she lifted the sheets up to her breasts. Looking at Jared so hard, golden and flawless, she still couldn’t help but wonder why he and Damon would risk all to retrieve her, to choose her. Even though Damon and Jared had seen her ruined body at its worst, she sometimes still felt self-conscious.