Going Down (27 page)

“You?” Elton challenged. “Despite your obvious failure, you believe you're capable of making the necessary behavior modification? Not going to happen.”

Dread clutched her heart; she wondered if she was sensing the same emotion in Reeve, but all he said was, “I beg your pardon?”

“You acknowledged that I'm owed compensation for the injuries I suffered at this bitch's hand, but I don't want or need your money. I insist you turn her over to me.”

“Impossible.”

“No, not impossible.” Although she couldn't see him, Elton's tone chilled her. “I shouldn't need to point out that you're more than outnumbered. I'd hate to have our association degenerate to the point of violence. At the same time, the opportunity to work with a rebellious slave isn't one I intend to relinquish.”

Once again time broke down to one rapid-fire heartbeat after the other. If Reeve refused to turn her over to Elton, he might be killed. But if he turned his back on her, she was as good as dead, only death might be preferable to what Elton had in mind.
I'm sorry. So sorry.

“Not an easy decision, is it?” Elton asked, sounding amused now. “Your hesitancy tells me that you have feelings for her, a most unfortunate situation and one my colleagues and I would strongly counsel you against. In fact, this has me wondering if there might be more than a slave/master relationship here. If you've been—”

A new sound, distant and yet coming closer, stopped Elton in midsentence. When Reeve slackened his hold on her leash, she straightened and cocked her head.

“Helicopter,” one of the men said. “What's it doing out at night?”

Elton shrugged, his eyes clawing at her until she wondered if she'd started bleeding. He didn't want her alive, but neither did he want her dead. And beneath those emotions lived yet something else, a coldness she'd never seen before. If he'd once been a caring human being, that part of him had died.

The
whip-whip
of helicopter blades continued to grow until she half expected the aircraft to crash through the roof. One of the men unlocked the door leading to the rear deck and stepped outside. “What the hell?” he hollered.

“The fucker's landing!” someone yelled. “And there's another behind it.”

Instead of looking at the two men, Saree kept her attention on Elton. For someone without an ounce of humanity in his soul, his face now gave away a great deal, rage foremost. “What the hell is this?” he demanded of Reeve. “If you're responsible—”

“You'll what?” Reeve shot back. “It's over, you bastard. You're over!”

“The hell—” With that, Elton whirled and raced over to Amber. Saree had no doubt that he intended to use her as his shield and hostage.

Releasing Saree, Reeve charged after Elton. But before Reeve could reach him, the kneeling Amber knotted her hands in front of her. Just as Elton reached her, she brought her hands down and then up, slamming them into his groin. Screaming, Elton slumped to his knees. He was still trying to cradle his wounded cock when her fisted hands struck him full in the throat. His scream became a desperate gasp for breath.

Something was happening outside, men yelling, wind whipping, powerful engines roaring, but Saree couldn't take her attention off Amber long enough to try to make sense of it. The Slavers were all on their feet, some standing and staring, others running toward the front of the house. The naked women clung to each other, all except for Amber, who now stood over Elton, cursing, crying, laughing at the same time.

Willing strength into her legs, Saree walked over to Amber and held out her hands. “It's all right,” she whispered. “You're all right.” At that she turned back so she could look at Reeve.

He nodded, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“I
t's over,” Saree said into the cell phone that one of the men who'd been in the helicopters had given her. Sucking in air, she ordered herself to slow down. “The cavalry showed up. Those bastards have all been arrested, and now Clan members are going through the mansion so—”

“Wait a minute,” her sister interrupted. “What mansion? Who are you calling the cavalry and do you have any idea what time it is?”

The time, Hayley pointed out, was nearly one in the morning. After apologizing but only halfway meaning it, Saree forced herself to concentrate so she could bring her sister up to speed on everything that had happened, not just tonight but since her life had taken a sharp left turn. By the time she'd run out of steam and Hayley out of questions, her throat was sore and her eyes ached.

She was sitting in a patio chair on the expansive deck, staring at the part of the ocean that the lights, moon, and stars revealed. Although her spine ached and her buttocks had gone numb, Saree couldn't bring herself to stand and walk back into that house of horrors. Even after she'd promised Hayley that she'd call her back as soon as she knew where she'd be spending what was left of the night, she continued to sit and stare at the waves.

Technically The Slavers hadn't been arrested since those who'd rescued her and the other women weren't sworn law enforcement officers, but the man who'd given her the phone had assured her that they had more than enough evidence to turn over to law enforcement. He'd mentioned that although the former slaves would have to testify, much of the weight of the case against The Slavers would come from Reeve—and her.

Where was Reeve? She hadn't seen him since the raid started. Going by what she'd heard and observed from her place of relative peace, every Slaver had indeed been rounded up and restrained. Now Clan members were pressing them for personal information, something they of course were reluctant to give. It made sense that Reeve would be part of that interrogation, although maybe he was talking to the women.

She should be looking for Amber or assuring the former slaves that they were truly free, and if neither of those things, she should have insisted she be allowed to observe the interviews of the Slavers.

Instead she sat. And thought. And tried to gather the courage to tell Reeve good-bye.

So hard, so damnably hard. But the fantasy was over, and as incredible as her time with him had been, reality now ruled. What it all boiled down to was that she wasn't—

“I didn't know where you were,” a too-familiar voice behind her said. “I've been looking—”

“Have you?” she asked without turning around. She'd heard his tone so many times that she shouldn't still respond to it, should she? But she had, and the reason for the thread of heat from between her breasts to her core had only a little to do with relief because the nightmare was over. “I've been here the whole time.”

“Why?” Unless she was mistaken, he was still standing in the doorway. “Maybe you were afraid—”

“Not anymore,” she said, although she remained shaken. “I didn't want to be in the way.”

“That's the only reason?”

She still wore the collar and chain he'd placed on her, and although she'd covered her breasts, the scant costume remained as a reminder of the role she'd been cast into. “What do you want me to say?” Although she knew better than to look at him, the effort of not doing so taxed her.

“I don't know. That's the hell of it. I don't know what either of us should be saying.”

That wasn't right. Reeve was a man of action and self-confidence, courageous and determined. “What's going to happen now? Can The Clan make citizen arrests?”

“Yes, but there's no need. The police are on their way.”

The police who'd want to talk to her. “What am I suppose to tell them? I don't see how I can get away with lying about how you drew me into this.”

“I don't want you to do that, but you'd consider lying?”

Damn it, hadn't she just warned herself not to look at him? It hadn't done any good because now she was staring back at him, not just staring but taking in that so-familiar body and remembering that he'd once been a helpless, confused, and hurting boy. Human. Just like her.

“I don't know,” she told the strong and shadowy figure standing near the closed sliding glass door. “I haven't thought—could you be charged with kidnapping me?”

“The DA is going to be a lot more interested in prosecuting The Slavers than examining the role my colleagues and I had in exposing them. Our priority has always been to keep The Clan out of the news because otherwise we won't be able to continue to operate. Obviously, we've succeeded in the past.”

Something told her it wasn't going to be that simple, that deals would need to be made, compromises reached, information suppressed, but she couldn't think about that right now. He was coming closer, and that was all she could concentrate on. Each step erased more than physical distance. His nearness complicated her world. They'd been through so much together. Their bodies had become one in more ways than she could call to mind right now, and they'd shared their deepest pains. But did she really know this big, dark man?

What did it matter?

“She's here,” Reeve said as he sat in the chair next to her. Instead of studying her, his attention locked on the moonlit surf. “The coed who'd been grabbed in Manhattan Beach. They were keeping her in a cage. She's pretty traumatized but—”

“Of course she is. The others—maybe I'm crazy to be saying this, but the others have had time to comprehend what happened to them while she—”

“She's trying to grasp the fact that she's been rescued. I told her the police are on their way, but I'm not sure she could hear me.”

“Not hear? What—”

“I'm a man.” His tone was sober, maybe self-hating. “Right now she doesn't trust anyone with a cock.”

Get to your feet. Find that young woman. Hold her.
Instead, she sat.

“What about you?” he asked. “Is that why you're out here? You don't want to be anywhere close to someone with a cock? Or maybe it's just me you want nothing to do with? I don't blame you. That's what I need you to understand.”

“If I could have killed Elton I would have. He deserves—”

“That's not what I asked.”

What was wrong with Reeve? Didn't he understand that her emotions were still in tatters, that the way she'd earned her living couldn't possibly have prepared her for what she'd just experienced? “It's the best I can give you.” She was careful not to look at him, but why the hell did he have to be sitting so close that his life energy reached her? “You can't tear me out of my world and thrust me into something incomprehensible and expect me to have it all together.”

“You're right; I can't. That's what I didn't allow myself to think about when we hatched our plan, the impact on you.”

For a moment she half believed he was going to take her hand but maybe she'd only imagined it. Whichever it was, too-familiar heated energy snaked through her. Her nearly overwhelming need for him at this moment had to be a result of tonight's trauma; it had to! His assignment had brought them together; otherwise, he would have wanted nothing to do with her. She was soiled goods, and what she'd done for a living danced too close to what The Slavers had been about.

“I don't know when you'll be able to leave,” he said, now watching her. “The police are going to want everything you can give them. You're a key component in the case. Your testimony—”

“That's right, my testimony! So it didn't occur to you that maybe I wouldn't want that responsibility thrust on me? A means to an end, that's all I was.”
Damn you for expecting me to cooperate fully when I'll have all I can do to survive you walking out of my life.
“I can't refuse to cooperate; I want to. But my name and face are going to be all over the news.” Rocked by the thought, she stood and paced to the railing overlooking the surf. “And to think I used to believe I was a public figure. That's nothing compared to what's going to happen.”

Mistake! Why hadn't she guessed that he too would be putting his feet under him and joining her?

“I'm sorry. For so much. That's what I came out here for, to apologize.”

And now that you have, you can go back inside.
“It doesn't matter,” she whispered. “I'll do what I have to.”

“I know you will. But when it's over, what then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you go back to work?”

That's all you care about?
“I don't know. I need time to—what about you? Do you get a vacation?”

“This career doesn't work that way. If I'm needed—Saree, I mean it, I'm sorry for what I put you through. I was so focused on achieving the goal that I didn't look ahead, didn't acknowledge that you'd lose the anonymity I've worked so hard to accomplish for myself.”

Why did his voice have to blend so perfectly with the sounds rolling up from the surf? And why hadn't she backed away from him? And why couldn't she keep her cunt from clenching? Maybe most of all, why were her fingers extending toward his?

A touch, light and yet hot. Nerve endings short-circuiting and the Southern California night breeze in her hair and nostrils and his strength sliding into and around her. Anger, if that's what it had been, dying.

When he pulled her around so she was facing him, she planted her free hand against his chest but couldn't bring herself to try to push him away. Just the same, her hand remained as a barrier between them.
Say it. Tell him how much you disgust yourself.

“Don't apologize,” she managed. “What's going to happen is bigger than both of us. It
has
to be.”

“Yeah, it does.”

His mouth was so close. Damn it, he didn't have to be looking down at her like that, and his arm didn't have to be around her back as if he thought she might take flight. Yet despite the distraction and dangerous potential of his body, she had things to say before putting an end to tonight. To them.

“This is the side of what I do—did for a living that I've always managed to avoid facing,” she whispered. “I hid behind the word
consensual
and told myself that The Dungeon was good, clean fun. But that wasn't all there was to it. The Slavers—people like them feed off what we offer them.”

“Don't.” Pulling her closer, he wrapped both arms around her. One covered the small of her back while the other pressed against her buttocks. “Don't blame yourself for—”

“Of course I do!” Was she speaking the truth or simply trying to weather Reeve's presence? “We have all these controls so underage kids can't view what's on our site, but do we try to block out the sick elements of society? No! We take their money and shrug and say it isn't our problem. But it is. It is.”

“Saree.” His breath dampened and heated her face and throat while his cock sought a home. “I mean it, don't take on that burden.”

“Why shouldn't I. It's the—”

“No, it isn't. Saree, you just told me not to apologize for what I put you through. You're no more responsible for what The Slavers did than I am for my father's rampage.”

That stopped her, that and his strength and sexuality. So much evil had taken place here and yet beyond the walls, the ocean endured. “Of course you aren't. You were only a child.”

“Just as you're only a woman, a sexy woman who does what she loves.”

But can I ever do that again?
“I think—I want to talk to those shrinks you'll be taking the women in there to. I'm so—everything is so complex.”

“Yeah, it is.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the base of her spine, stealing her breath and challenging her sanity. “And it's not going to get better for a while.”

“I know.”

“But eventually it will.”

“I know,” she repeated. “The way it did after my parents died.”

“And after my father was arrested. Honey, the other reason I came out here was to tell you how damn proud I am of you. You're an incredibly brave woman.” He took a deep breath. “And for the first time since I became a Clan member, I'm not thinking about moving on to the next assignment. I don't—don't want to be alone anymore.”

“Neither do I,” she whispered.

Leaning back she looked up at him. It didn't matter that she couldn't make out his features, that she still needed to ask him if he saw her as tainted goods, to tell him that she'd have to draw on his strength to get through whatever it took to put The Slavers behind bars.

There was this moment. This ocean breeze. Their bodies crying for each other.

Tomorrow could wait. And they'd face it together.