This is who I am

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The rain hit Linda’s face, cold and harsh. Hurt, hurt, hurt. She tried to move. Her muscles didn’t work. Her head flopped. Her arms were pulled behind her back; her cuffs had been clipped together.

Blinking hard, she realized she was facedown…because she lay over someone’s shoulder. And outside.

The slaver…the slaver had her. Everything in her wanted to panic, but her body wasn’t hers. Limp and stupid.

How had he gotten outside with her? Past the guard?

As rain streamed down her face, she saw that the ground was grass, not concrete. They weren’t in the parking lot. Not in front of the building. She managed to turn her head. Tall hedges, glimpses of a fence. Fountains. They were in the Capture Gardens that Master Z kept closed off except for special times. It was an alarmed fire door. And the alarm…wouldn’t work with the power off. Oh God.

Thunder rumbled across the sky, the flashes of lightning almost constant. Small solar lights lined the paths. She groaned, tried to move. Can’t let him get away. Can’t.

“Waking up, bitch?” The man rolled her off his shoulder, dumping her on the ground.

Everything jolted. Her head throbbed like someone had used a mallet on her skull.

“Fuck, you’re heavy.” He rotated his shoulder, his breathing harsh.

She stared up at him. Not one of the four Doms. This man had been at the bar behind those Doms. Her tongue felt fat, sluggish, and her “Why?” came out sounding like mush.

“Saw you listening. Figured it out.” He smirked. “I like redheads. Oh yeah. And older bitches. We’ll have fun in a minute.” He straightened and turned in a circle. “There’s a gazebo back here somewhere if I can find it. Got time. With the place blacked out, nobody will notice you’re missing until way too late for you. Such a pity.”

A second later, she understood. Because he’d taken her out the side door, no one would realize they were in the Gardens. Panic demolished her thoughts until she could only shake. She tried to move, screaming inside her head at her sluggish body. Try, try! Couldn’t do anything. Closing her eyes against his smug expression, she fought her way free of the fear. Gripped her emotions and held them. She’d lived through this before. Gotten free before.

She forced her hands open. Closed. Again. She had to get her body to work. Pain sizzled through her, too much like the lightning in the sky. The wind whipped the trees overhead. Rain hit her face like hammers, but cold spatter returned a bit of feeling to her body.

“Yeah. The gazebo must be that way.” He yanked her to her feet, held her up when her knees buckled.

She tried to jerk away.

“Give me trouble, and I’ll zap you again,” he said coldly. He patted the cell phone clipped on his belt. “Cute, huh? They make stun guns in all disguises these days.”

The cell phone was a stun gun. She closed her eyes, concentrated on breathing, and getting her strength back.

Humming under his breath, he half carried her down the grassy path, past shadowy nooks, arbors and fountains, a swing. A beautiful place and horrible, horrible right now.

“Gonna rip you to pieces, slut. You’ll bleed so much even the rain won’t wash it away.” He squeezed her breast. “Can’t wait till Davies sees what I leave of you.”

Tears of anger and fear joined the rain on her face. She couldn’t bear this. Not again.

No! No panicking. They’d look for her. Sam was there. He wouldn’t give up. Neither would she.

When the lights went out, Sam ran toward where he’d seen Linda.

“Help!” The high, hysterical scream stopped him. A woman in suspension was panicking and thrashing so hard her Dom couldn’t cut her free. Sam grabbed her and held her still as the man snipped through the ropes. One rope. Two.

“Easy, baby, take it easy,” the Dom was murmuring. Around the room, other submissives were being set loose. Yells and calls for assistance spread through the room.

Sally appeared in the dim light. “Where’s Linda? I can’t find Linda!”

Son of a bitch! He couldn’t just drop the submissive in his arms. “Sally.”

The sub stopped, panting and looking around with terrified eyes.

Fear knotted his gut, and he snapped out, “Find Z and tell him, girl.”

Sally ran.

“Last one,” the Dom said.

The ropes dropped off, and Sam took the weight of the submissive. As she cried, he set her onto a couch. Her Dom dropped down beside her.

Done. When he turned, he spotted Nolan in the shadowy light with Beth tucked under his arm.

Sam motioned him over. “Find Linda.”

“Hell,” Nolan muttered, his expression darkening.

Sam headed for where he’d last seen her. No one in that spot. No Linda in sight. Hell with this. He hauled in a breath. “Linda! Answer me now!”

The room quieted, the command in his voice shutting everyone down. No answer. “Linda. Answer me!”

Sharp glass seemed to fill his gut. Where the hell was she? He started for the front entrance.

Z appeared at his side, carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. He handed Sam another. “Cullen said she’d pointed out four Doms, but they’re all in the room. Ben says no one came out, and he won’t let anyone leave.”

“Where the hell—”

“I’ve got the Masters searching.”

A shout came across the room. Marcus’s voice. “Restrooms empty.”

Raoul’s voice. “Theme rooms clear.”

“Not upstairs,” Dan yelled.

Cullen yelled, “Not danceside.”

“Not in the back,” Anne yelled.

“He got her out. Somehow.” Sam considered. “Your private exit to your yard is locked.”

“Yes. The only other way out would be—” Z turned toward the side of the room. The Capture Garden door stood slightly ajar.

“Hell. No power. No alarm.” Sam’s jaw clenched. The huge Gardens were designed for hide-and-seek games with hedges and hidden nooks. In the dark and rain, it could take hours to find her. If the spotter had her, she didn’t have hours.

Conn was in the truck, which Sam had parked right in front. “Start the search. I’m getting my dog.”

Linda couldn’t stop shivering. Her skin was drenched. Her hair hung in cold tangles on her shoulders. She couldn’t stand on her own, let alone run.

The slaver—Aaron, he’d said his name was—dropped her onto a bench in the gazebo.

Her hope of rescue was sinking. A tall cedar fence marked the back wall of the garden. “They’ll catch you. You should run while you can.”

“Gonna do you first.” He grinned. “Then I’ll cut your hair off for something to remember you by and toss your body over the fence.” He tried to yank off her bustier but couldn’t work the tiny wet hooks with his wet hands. When he pulled a hunting knife from the sheath at his hip, her breathing stopped.

God, please, no.

But he slipped it under the leather and sliced upward between her breasts. The bustier dropped open. “Much better.”

His hands were on her, squeezing roughly. She kicked at him frantically, knocking him back. He grunted in pain, but her bare feet hadn’t done enough damage.

Stepping forward, he slapped her legs aside, grabbed her throat. Then his head lifted. Running sounds. A dog baying. “Fuck, they’re out here already.”

She knew that dog. Conn was here. Exultation filled her. Scream. She pulled in a quick breath and—

He grabbed her hair, and his knife pricked her throat. “Scream and you’re just meat cooling in the rain.”

She choked back the sound, her hands clenching. Here. I’m here! Please…

“Too damn fast. Were they watching you, slut?” He slapped her cruelly, the pain sudden and startling, then yanked her to her feet. Before she could recover, the knife was back at her throat. He answered for himself. “I knew you were listening. But you’d already told Z, hadn’t you?”

He considered the fence, then shook his head as footsteps advanced directly toward them. “Too late. Bet they have someone guarding the parking lot by now.”

Hurry, Sam. Hurry.

Aaron stared down at her with cold eyes. “Guess it’s the hostage game. Don’t fuck up or I’ll slit your throat in front of them all.”

He would anyway. She knew it, saw her death in his gaze. He turned as Conn appeared, the dog brought to a sudden halt by the leash Sam held. Z and Nolan were directly behind him. Others followed.

Her hope of being freed was dying fast, but oh, she wouldn’t be left alone with this man. Gratitude for that mercy made her eyes water.

In the wet light from the nearby fountain, Sam’s pale gaze fastened on her. Fury made his gaze almost glow. “Let her go.”

“Don’t be stupid.” The spotter gave a short laugh. “Back off, way off, or I slit her throat and you watch her bleed out.”

“You aren’t that stupid.” Z’s mild voice belied the rigidity of his jaw. “Killing her won’t help you.”

“Be satisfying though.” The knife pricked her skin.

She felt blood trickle down her throat, hot against the chilled skin.

“I’m not going to jail. I heard about the Overseer—getting reamed like a cunt,” Aaron said. “Either I get away clean, or I take her with me before I die.”

Sam’s growl and Conn’s snarl sounded in the silence.

The guy laughed. “I never liked you, Davies, but you’ve got good taste in sluts. Now back off.” The knife pricked her harder.

She gritted her teeth. He wouldn’t get a noise from her. Wouldn’t get anything. Never, ever again. She met Sam’s gaze and spoke directly to him. “I’d rather die than let him take me. My choice. My body.” Know that I mean this, my love.

Sam’s face blanked of all expression.

“Shut that yap.” Aaron put his hand over her face—her nose and mouth. She couldn’t breathe. As she struggled, Aaron yelled at Z, “Back the fuck up. Now.”

Blackness danced in her head. But as the men retreated, almost disappearing in the darkness, Aaron removed his hand from her face.

Air. She heaved in a breath, another.

As Aaron dragged her beside him, she turned her head. Everything in her wanted one last look at her Sam. Just one.

At the edge of the clearing, Sam handed Conn’s leash to Anne. As the Mistress dragged the dog away, Sam stood alone.

Linda looked at him. I love you. Regret swept over her, colder than the dying wind. The rain had stopped, but water dripped from the trees and palms. What might they have had together? Why had she let Sam retreat from her? Now those few days had been wasted, precious jewels of time tossed away.

And her hope of more time with him was fading so, so quickly. Her lips tightened. If the slaver got her to the parking lot, then—but only then—she’d give up. She’d jam her neck on the knife herself. I’m sorry, my babies. Sam. I hope you’ll forgive me someday.

But never, never, never again would she be a slave.

SAM’S RAGE HAD disappeared, driven down to a hard ball in his gut, waiting to explode. As his mind frantically turned over plan after plan, his heart slowed, his blood turned to ice.

Linda walked on Aaron’s right, his right hand curled around her left upper arm, holding her in place. His left hand held the blade against the left side of her throat. The bastard was fully a head taller than Linda was.

There was no surefire plan. None. No time to get weapons, which Z undoubtedly had upstairs. Aaron had made it clear he was willing to die—and kill Linda first.

Sam wanted to wait. Surely there’d be a way to get her free that wouldn’t risk her life. She just had to hang in there.

“My body. My choice.” She’d spoken clearly. Bluntly. She’d rather die.

He saw only one slim chance to free her. He pulled in a breath against rigid lungs. If his actions killed her…he’d slaughter the bastard and follow. Damned if he wouldn’t.

Once back in the shadows, Sam slipped over to Z. He’d need space and darkness. But the approach to the mansion’s side door was lit with solar lamps. No way to shut them off.

However, the lighting for the front of the Shadowlands was electrical. Without power, there were no lights.

Z’s eyes were black in the dim lighting. “If he’s willing to die, there’s no good way to take him out before he kills her. We can try, but I doubt she’d survive. ”

“I want to take him just past the fence.” Sam considered the areas of light and dark. “You make him use the side gate. Follow him. Noisy. Keep his attention on you.”

“And?”

Sam unsnapped the bullwhip from his belt.

EVEN KNOWING HER cuffs were clipped together, Linda fought the restraints. She needed—needed—to push the knife away. With every step, she felt the cold metal scrape against the left side of her neck.

She’d lunged to the side to escape his hold, but his hand was big and his grip on her arm was unbreakable. He’d cut her again, whether by accident or anger, and now his grip squeezed her upper arm so tightly the flesh grated against her bone.

Helpless. Her jaw clenched against the screams desperate to escape.

But she’d fight until her options were gone. She let her weight sag and dragged her feet to make the slaver work for every inch of ground.

He didn’t want to die. She felt the tremor of the knife on her neck. But she’d heard the spiteful resolve in his voice. He’d kill them both if the men trapped him.

Trembling shook her body. I don’t want to die either. But she would. Oh yes. Even knowing what her death would do to Sam. He’d forgive her. Eventually. The slaver had no intentions of letting her go free; the only question would be when she’d die.

And she’d be the one to decide when. She wouldn’t get into a car with him. If he made it to the parking lot… Well, at that point, she’d make sure the only body he’d get would be a dead one.

“Fucking cunt, move your legs.” He gripped her upper arm, dragging her forward. The knife never moved from her throat. Her lips twisted in a bitter grimace. Maybe he’d trip and kill her by accident.

“I’ll open the side gate for you,” Master Z’s voice came from behind as they neared the mansion.

“Do it,” Aaron grunted, turning away from the door into the clubroom.

Z moved ahead and held the tall wooden gate open.

As Aaron pulled Linda through, leaving the solar lights in the Capture Gardens behind, darkness surrounded them. The wrought-iron sconces along the building walls had gone out with the power.

Footsteps sounded from behind. The Masters hadn’t stayed back but were following. Noisily. Nolan’s rough curses. Anne’s whispered threats. But no gravelly voice. Wanting one last glimpse of Sam more than she wanted breath, Linda tried to turn her head.

Aaron yanked her closer. “You fucking slut, keep your—”

She heard a whistling sound, then a snap. Hot wetness splattered across her face and shoulders. The grip on her arm loosened.

Now, now, now. She threw herself sideways, away from the blade.

Unable to catch herself, she landed heavily on her shoulder and frantically rolled.

Over the pounding of her pulse, she heard choking and screaming, the sounds so ghastly that chills raced over her skin.

She was grabbed, and she screamed. Pulled and kicked and fought the ruthless grip. “No. Not again!”

“Easy there, missy.”

At the growl in her ear, she froze. Sam. His hands were on her. He had her. Panting and shaking, she went limp.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her painfully tight, his face against her hair. His voice a low rumble of curses. “That cock-sucking fuckheaded piece of shit. I’m going to fucking destroy the goddamn motherfucking son of a whore.”

He took a breath. “You goddamned scared the shit out of me, girl.” And he actually gave her a shake before yanking her into his arms again. His cheek rested against the top of her head as his barely audible chant continued: “I’ll rip the fucking asshole’s dick off and stuff it down his douche-bag throat. Take my whip and cornhole the bastard peckerheaded fuckwad till his ass whistles ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ Then I’ll break the dried-up piece of jackwad’s leg off and shove it up his ass.” After a minute, Linda untangled the curses and threats, all given in a voice that sounded like a badly tuned gravel truck—the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

A man was screaming, close…Aaron. She recognized voices. The Masters were there, she thought, the number increasing as others streamed out of the mansion.

Flashlights flickered. Someone retched.

“He’s barely got a face left.”

“Get an ambulance.”

“God, I’ve never seen so much blood.”

“Remind me not to piss Davies off.”

Aaron screeched louder.

Marcus’s low laugh. “Anne, I do believe that’s overkill.”

“The fucking asshole doesn’t deserve to keep those balls.” Anne’s hard voice. “Who’s got cuffs?”

Over. It was over.

Sam’s arms didn’t loosen.

She didn’t care. She’d stay right there for an eternity.

Cullen detached himself from the crowd. He smacked Sam on the shoulder. “You’re going to break your woman.”

Sam’s growl sounded as if it came from two directions. Conn stood behind the big Dom, fangs exposed.

Without moving, Cullen said, “Davies. Call off your damn hound so I can get her hands free.”

The arms around Linda loosened slightly as Sam’s chest moved with a long inhalation. “Conn. Stand down.”

The dog skirted Cullen and lunged into Linda’s lap, whining his worry. Wet fur. Warm, solid body.

Master Z appeared. He bent, shining a light so Cullen could see what he was doing. The cuffs were unclipped.

As the men moved her arms forward, her shoulders grated like rusty metal hinges. But she was free. And alive. Her body caught up suddenly, and she started shuddering so hard her bones shook. Everything hurt. Grabbing Sam’s shirt, she burrowed, trying to get closer. Closer.

Master Z moved to her side and set a hand on her arm. “Raise your chin, little one.”

Cheek against Sam’s chest, hands fisting his shirt, she couldn’t make herself obey.

“Hell,” Sam muttered. “Anne, take Conn for me again.”

As the dog was pulled away, Sam tried to shift her.

Ignoring the grinding complaint of her shoulders, Linda wrapped her arms around him. Never, ever going to let him go.

Master Z gave a huff of exasperation. “That didn’t help. Samuel, we need to see what that knife did.”

The chest under her cheek turned rigid, and a merciless grip on her arms moved her back.

More flashlights beamed down on them.

Sam’s eyes were pure ice in the increasing light. “Let’s see, girl.” The anger in his voice reverberated like the bass turned up as he cupped her chin and lifted.

The movement pulled at the burning lines across her neck.

Z touched her neck, then smiled. “All superficial. You did well, Samuel.”

“I’m too old for this goddamned active-duty crap.” Sam put an arm under her knees and lifted her. “Let’s get you bandaged, baby.”

Above the Shadowlands in Z’s third-floor home, Sam held Linda in his arms, where she the hell belonged, he thought. Her face remained as white as the fluffy blanket he’d wrapped around her. Her hair held the only color, much like the brightness she’d brought into his life.

He’d almost lost her. Leaning against the arm of the couch, he pulled her closer. Her legs had tangled with his; her cheek rested against his chest. Her breath created a warm spot on his shoulder, a tactile proof she was alive.

So damn close.

Aaron could have slit her throat. Although the cops had been shocked at what the bullwhip had done to Aaron’s face, Sam had been—was still—shaking at how close the bastard had come to killing her.

And she wouldn’t have been the first. When she’d told the cops that Aaron had planned to cut off her hair, they’d gone quiet. A call had gone out.

A while later, Marcus and Dan had come upstairs to share what the detectives found at Aaron’s apartment. Mementos from the women he’d raped and killed.

She stirred as if detecting his thoughts, then pushed back to look up at him. The bruising on her face made him want to find the bastard and deal out more punishment. “Did I remember to say thank you?” she asked, her dark brown eyes the color of the chocolate she liked so well. He’d need to stock up.

“For what, baby?” He brushed his hand over her hair.

“The rescue.” She pulled in a breath. “For letting the choice be mine.”

The fabric of the blanket was soft under his fingers as he squeezed her shoulder. Too thin. She’d lost weight in the last week. Since he’d been such an ass. “The choice is always yours.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I could have got you killed.” He foresaw having nightmares for years about that knife against her throat, the dark trickle of blood on her pale neck.

She flattened her palm on his cheek. “You didn’t. And I wouldn’t have let him take me. I wasn’t going to go farther than the parking lot.”

He’d known, goddammit. How could so much courage come packed in someone so soft and sweet? He kissed the top of her head.

“I wondered…” Her forehead furrowed. “Why didn’t you wrap the whip around his arm and pull the knife away?”

The cops had asked the same question. Seemed they all watched too many Indiana Jones movies.

Sam picked up her arm and bent it, duplicating the position in which Aaron had held the knife. “Need space around the target to wrap a whip. And got to wrap the leather a couple times so it will hold when I pull.” He used a corner of the blanket to make a few turns around her wrist, then opened it to show her the length. “There wasn’t enough room. The tail would have hit your face.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “You knew what you’d do to his…face when you hit him, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He tucked the blanket back over her shoulder, hating that she’d gone paler. He’d hoped she wouldn’t see Aaron, but of course, she’d looked. “In a scene, a single-tail is used…lightly…even when you intend to draw some blood. With Aaron, I didn’t hold back.”

Her shiver reminded him that her friend, Holly, had been whipped to death.

“It was a bad gamble, baby. Get surprised by a punch to the face and you’re stunned. Paralyzed for a split second. Only a second. But when the whip hit him, it wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t jumped away.”

Brave, brave woman.

She squeezed his hand and looked at him in a way that made his heart melt. “Thank you for hearing me. And for saving my life.” When she took her hand away, he missed her warmth. “I’d better get moving. Will you walk me to my car?”

His jaw clenched hard enough to bust his molars. “No.”

“Sam. We can’t sit in Master Z’s living room all night. It’s time to go. I can drive now.”

And when she had a belated reaction on the road? When she drove into a ditch, leaving him alone? No damned way. “I’ll drive. And you’ll come home with me.”

Her big eyes widened. Her chin came up. When he saw the bandage, a small circle of red staining the center, his throat loosened so more words came forth. “I want you in my house. Living with me. In my bed.”

“But…”

“I love you.” The words came easier each time. He curled her closer into him. She was so damned precious. Fragile and strong.

When she didn’t answer, he had an uncomfortable reminder of how his silence must have hurt her. He gave her an impatient jostle. “You’re supposed to say it back, girl. There are rules.”

“Rules?” Her lips tipped up. “My sergeant.” Her eyes warmed in the way he’d needed to see, and she whispered, “I love you, Sam. I really, really do.”

As he buried his face in her hair, he swore to himself that she’d hear the words from him every single damned day.