To Command and Collar
Page 56
Sam scowled. That was inefficient at best. “You know,” he told the agent, “if you could locate the asshole called the Overseer or Dahmer, he’d probably have master keys.”
“You seen him?”
“Maybe the kitchen or upstairs. He’s not in the ballroom.”
The feebie motioned for a uniform. “Get a description from this man and find the Overseer guy. Try the kitchen first, then upstairs.”
Sam filled the cop in and turned to his woman. “Linda.” He kept his eyes on her.
She stiffened, her gaze on the floor. Embarrassed. Hell.
He stepped forward and wrapped her in the blanket.
The agent with the bolt cutters was working on the next woman’s chain. He looked up. “Hey, where’d the blanket come from?”
“There’s a stack in the closet by the front door.” Sam pulled the blanket more securely around Linda.
Streaks of red appeared on her cheeks. She stared stubbornly at the floor. Dammit.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Her eyes lifted. Pretty, pretty brown, then down again.
“They’re going to take you all to a ward in the hospital where the docs can check you out. The feebies will be doing interviews. I doubt they’ll let me in to see you.” His jaw hardened when she didn’t answer. Unease tightened his gut, flattened his voice. “Give me a way to contact you.”
Her chin jerked up, and she gave him a stunned look of revulsion. “No. Never.” She took a step back from him. “I never want to see you again.” Another step back. Her lush mouth had flattened in a tight line.
He saw her shiver and knew she feared reprisal for the rudeness, but her determination to keep him away had been enough to risk it. He could read her as clearly as if he’d been in her head.
The agent dealing with the next slave over frowned.
This wasn’t the time to push. He’d made a hell of a mistake with her, going with the scene dynamics, and not taking into account the rest of the world. “All right. My name is Sam. When… If you want to reach me, ask at the Shadowlands here in Tampa.” He hesitated. “Be well, Linda.”
She looked away.
* * * *
They’d taken Master R from her, said they were airlifting him to a hospital. Kim had watched, still unable to stand, unable to do anything except shiver.
He was gone. She was alone. The memories of shattering, blood, and screaming kept surging forward in waves, twisting her stomach. If she could manage to get to her feet, maybe she could… Where would she go?
“Hey, what’re you doing here?” a cop asked brusquely and tried to yank her up. She yelped and grabbed her ribs. The Overseer had gotten in a good punch. He stopped pulling but didn’t let go. “You slaves are supposed to all be in the ballroom
until—”
“They’re not slaves, now are they?” A cold, gravelly voice. Kim looked up as Master Sam
walked over. “Last time I looked, slavery was outlawed in this country.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, sir.” The cop released her and took a step away. “Um—” Sam moved in front of the officer and knelt. “Are you all right, Kim?”
“My master.” Her mind blanked on the name. “My…my Master R. I need to go there.”
Where he is. “He’s hurt. I need to go there.”
Sam didn’t answer, just wrapped the blanket he held around her and over the black jacket she wore. When did she get a jacket? Her thoughts stuttered, started forward again. If her head would just stop hurting… She pulled the covering closer. “Thank you.”
“That’s better.” His hand cupped her chin before she could dodge. After turning her face to each side, he examined the lump at the back of her head. Pain burst behind her eyeballs. He frowned at the blood on his fingers. “You’re banged up, girl.”
“My master. I need to go to—”
“Stop.” He made an exasperated sound. “Dan arranged for us to go to the hospital with the first bunch of women. We’ll get you seen by a doc, and you can see Raoul.”
She nodded, taking it in, although her mind seemed to be awfully slow.
Maybe he realized, since he didn’t move. “You’re not tracking too good, are you?”
He’d take her to Master R. “I’m fine.” The floor insisted on moving in waves, upsetting her balance. Wait. Something else. Someone. “Linda?”
“She’s okay. She’ll get processed with the rest. Galen wouldn’t make an exception in her case.” Sam wrapped an arm around her.
She tried to jerk away, and he waited, not releasing her. As she saw his pale blue eyes, she remembered. Master R’s friend. “Sorry, Sir.”
He simply smiled and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Halfway down, she saw… She fought from Sam’s grip, bent, and picked up a black collar. And fell forward.
With a curse, Sam grabbed her and yanked her back upright. “What the hell are you doing, girl?”
She ran her fingers over the leather, the silver engraving. Her grip tightened when he tried to take it. “Mine.”
Instead of fighting her, he turned the collar in her hands so he could read the writing. Master Raoul’s gatita. “Yours.”
Chapter Sixteen
Raoul opened his eyes and frowned. Bed with shiny metal railings, white walls, Marcus sitting in a chair. Auction, fight. As his memory returned, he tried to sit up and grunted at the flare of pain in his shoulder and ribs. He remembered the ER crew checking his back. He’d only cursed once. Then they’d moved to his front. Carajo, he hadn’t liked seeing the white flashes of his rib cage when they’d checked to see how deep it was.
“When my sister was ten, she got a sewing kit,” Marcus said in his easy Southern drawl. He pulled his chair closer and used the controls to raise the head of Raoul’s bed. “You look like one of the stuffed bears she…mended. Stitches everywhere.”
Friends were a joy to the heart, Raoul reminded himself. “Thank you.” The auction. Anxiety welled inside him. “Where’s Kimberly?”
Marcus gave an exaggerated sigh. “She’s in the ER being checked over, but she’s all right. Sam is with her. They should never have doped you up to give you stitches.”
Raoul relaxed. “Why?”
“A pleasant dopehead you’re not. Every time your eyes open, you ask about Kim…then try to get down to the ER. You punched an orderly, by the way. The nurses dragged me in here to reassure you she’s alive.” Marcus grinned. “And I’ve been telling you that every five minutes since.”
“Sorry. And thank you.” Raoul frowned. “Have you checked on her recently?” Sam was good. He’d watch out for her. Wouldn’t he? Scowling, Raoul looked up at the IV bag hanging on a pole, traced the plastic tubing to the needle in the back of his hand. He could yank it out.
“Don’t try it,” Marcus said, his Southern accent not covering up the steel beneath. “I’d sit on you, and then they’d put it back in. You lost enough blood to worry them. And me.”
Giving up for the moment, Raoul asked, “Did they catch everyone?”
“We did,” Galen Kouros said from the doorway. Weariness lined his face as he walked into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. “I am very tired of visiting you pushy bastards in the hospital after you get damaged in my operations.”
Raoul snorted and had to suck in against the groan. The skin on his ribs felt as if it wanted to split open again. “No jokes,” he gritted out.
From behind Kouros, Z appeared. He pointed to the pain-control device. “Use that, Raoul.”
Raoul scowled. “I will wait to see my sumi—see Kimberly.”
“I’ll have her wake you up if you’re asleep.” Z picked up the remote and pushed the button, smiling at Raoul’s curse. “Don’t get into a pissing contest with me when you’re flat on your back. You’ll just get wet.”
“Cabrón.”
Z grinned. “You can stop worrying about her, you know. I stopped in the ER and sent Sam home. Kim is getting X-rays. Then Jessica and Gabi will bring her up.” He glanced at Marcus. “I don’t think the doctors stand a chance against the three of them.”
The pain medicine hit. It felt as if the bed dropped away a couple of feet, but the burning in his shoulder and ribs eased to a mild smolder. Z was still a bastard. “What else?” he asked Kouros.
“The upstairs looked like a war zone. One man had his skull smashed in—which Kim said was her work.”
Raoul winced. He’d glimpsed the end of Greville. She should not have had to do that. “Is she—you made her talk about that?”
“Since you weren’t available, yes. She held together until she finished…then spent the next ten minutes throwing up. Dammit.” Kouros gave him a level stare. “From what I know of your background, you’ve seen your share of violence. She’ll be all right, but you know it takes a while.”
Raoul nodded.
“For you, you caved in one man’s chest, one died going headfirst down the steps, one from a crushed trachea. Most of the rest are in a world of hurt. Nice job.” Kouros thought for a moment. “The Overseer is in surgery right now—and he talked quite a bit while we were waiting for his transport.”
“You seen him?”
“Maybe the kitchen or upstairs. He’s not in the ballroom.”
The feebie motioned for a uniform. “Get a description from this man and find the Overseer guy. Try the kitchen first, then upstairs.”
Sam filled the cop in and turned to his woman. “Linda.” He kept his eyes on her.
She stiffened, her gaze on the floor. Embarrassed. Hell.
He stepped forward and wrapped her in the blanket.
The agent with the bolt cutters was working on the next woman’s chain. He looked up. “Hey, where’d the blanket come from?”
“There’s a stack in the closet by the front door.” Sam pulled the blanket more securely around Linda.
Streaks of red appeared on her cheeks. She stared stubbornly at the floor. Dammit.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Her eyes lifted. Pretty, pretty brown, then down again.
“They’re going to take you all to a ward in the hospital where the docs can check you out. The feebies will be doing interviews. I doubt they’ll let me in to see you.” His jaw hardened when she didn’t answer. Unease tightened his gut, flattened his voice. “Give me a way to contact you.”
Her chin jerked up, and she gave him a stunned look of revulsion. “No. Never.” She took a step back from him. “I never want to see you again.” Another step back. Her lush mouth had flattened in a tight line.
He saw her shiver and knew she feared reprisal for the rudeness, but her determination to keep him away had been enough to risk it. He could read her as clearly as if he’d been in her head.
The agent dealing with the next slave over frowned.
This wasn’t the time to push. He’d made a hell of a mistake with her, going with the scene dynamics, and not taking into account the rest of the world. “All right. My name is Sam. When… If you want to reach me, ask at the Shadowlands here in Tampa.” He hesitated. “Be well, Linda.”
She looked away.
* * * *
They’d taken Master R from her, said they were airlifting him to a hospital. Kim had watched, still unable to stand, unable to do anything except shiver.
He was gone. She was alone. The memories of shattering, blood, and screaming kept surging forward in waves, twisting her stomach. If she could manage to get to her feet, maybe she could… Where would she go?
“Hey, what’re you doing here?” a cop asked brusquely and tried to yank her up. She yelped and grabbed her ribs. The Overseer had gotten in a good punch. He stopped pulling but didn’t let go. “You slaves are supposed to all be in the ballroom
until—”
“They’re not slaves, now are they?” A cold, gravelly voice. Kim looked up as Master Sam
walked over. “Last time I looked, slavery was outlawed in this country.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, sir.” The cop released her and took a step away. “Um—” Sam moved in front of the officer and knelt. “Are you all right, Kim?”
“My master.” Her mind blanked on the name. “My…my Master R. I need to go there.”
Where he is. “He’s hurt. I need to go there.”
Sam didn’t answer, just wrapped the blanket he held around her and over the black jacket she wore. When did she get a jacket? Her thoughts stuttered, started forward again. If her head would just stop hurting… She pulled the covering closer. “Thank you.”
“That’s better.” His hand cupped her chin before she could dodge. After turning her face to each side, he examined the lump at the back of her head. Pain burst behind her eyeballs. He frowned at the blood on his fingers. “You’re banged up, girl.”
“My master. I need to go to—”
“Stop.” He made an exasperated sound. “Dan arranged for us to go to the hospital with the first bunch of women. We’ll get you seen by a doc, and you can see Raoul.”
She nodded, taking it in, although her mind seemed to be awfully slow.
Maybe he realized, since he didn’t move. “You’re not tracking too good, are you?”
He’d take her to Master R. “I’m fine.” The floor insisted on moving in waves, upsetting her balance. Wait. Something else. Someone. “Linda?”
“She’s okay. She’ll get processed with the rest. Galen wouldn’t make an exception in her case.” Sam wrapped an arm around her.
She tried to jerk away, and he waited, not releasing her. As she saw his pale blue eyes, she remembered. Master R’s friend. “Sorry, Sir.”
He simply smiled and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Halfway down, she saw… She fought from Sam’s grip, bent, and picked up a black collar. And fell forward.
With a curse, Sam grabbed her and yanked her back upright. “What the hell are you doing, girl?”
She ran her fingers over the leather, the silver engraving. Her grip tightened when he tried to take it. “Mine.”
Instead of fighting her, he turned the collar in her hands so he could read the writing. Master Raoul’s gatita. “Yours.”
Chapter Sixteen
Raoul opened his eyes and frowned. Bed with shiny metal railings, white walls, Marcus sitting in a chair. Auction, fight. As his memory returned, he tried to sit up and grunted at the flare of pain in his shoulder and ribs. He remembered the ER crew checking his back. He’d only cursed once. Then they’d moved to his front. Carajo, he hadn’t liked seeing the white flashes of his rib cage when they’d checked to see how deep it was.
“When my sister was ten, she got a sewing kit,” Marcus said in his easy Southern drawl. He pulled his chair closer and used the controls to raise the head of Raoul’s bed. “You look like one of the stuffed bears she…mended. Stitches everywhere.”
Friends were a joy to the heart, Raoul reminded himself. “Thank you.” The auction. Anxiety welled inside him. “Where’s Kimberly?”
Marcus gave an exaggerated sigh. “She’s in the ER being checked over, but she’s all right. Sam is with her. They should never have doped you up to give you stitches.”
Raoul relaxed. “Why?”
“A pleasant dopehead you’re not. Every time your eyes open, you ask about Kim…then try to get down to the ER. You punched an orderly, by the way. The nurses dragged me in here to reassure you she’s alive.” Marcus grinned. “And I’ve been telling you that every five minutes since.”
“Sorry. And thank you.” Raoul frowned. “Have you checked on her recently?” Sam was good. He’d watch out for her. Wouldn’t he? Scowling, Raoul looked up at the IV bag hanging on a pole, traced the plastic tubing to the needle in the back of his hand. He could yank it out.
“Don’t try it,” Marcus said, his Southern accent not covering up the steel beneath. “I’d sit on you, and then they’d put it back in. You lost enough blood to worry them. And me.”
Giving up for the moment, Raoul asked, “Did they catch everyone?”
“We did,” Galen Kouros said from the doorway. Weariness lined his face as he walked into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. “I am very tired of visiting you pushy bastards in the hospital after you get damaged in my operations.”
Raoul snorted and had to suck in against the groan. The skin on his ribs felt as if it wanted to split open again. “No jokes,” he gritted out.
From behind Kouros, Z appeared. He pointed to the pain-control device. “Use that, Raoul.”
Raoul scowled. “I will wait to see my sumi—see Kimberly.”
“I’ll have her wake you up if you’re asleep.” Z picked up the remote and pushed the button, smiling at Raoul’s curse. “Don’t get into a pissing contest with me when you’re flat on your back. You’ll just get wet.”
“Cabrón.”
Z grinned. “You can stop worrying about her, you know. I stopped in the ER and sent Sam home. Kim is getting X-rays. Then Jessica and Gabi will bring her up.” He glanced at Marcus. “I don’t think the doctors stand a chance against the three of them.”
The pain medicine hit. It felt as if the bed dropped away a couple of feet, but the burning in his shoulder and ribs eased to a mild smolder. Z was still a bastard. “What else?” he asked Kouros.
“The upstairs looked like a war zone. One man had his skull smashed in—which Kim said was her work.”
Raoul winced. He’d glimpsed the end of Greville. She should not have had to do that. “Is she—you made her talk about that?”
“Since you weren’t available, yes. She held together until she finished…then spent the next ten minutes throwing up. Dammit.” Kouros gave him a level stare. “From what I know of your background, you’ve seen your share of violence. She’ll be all right, but you know it takes a while.”
Raoul nodded.
“For you, you caved in one man’s chest, one died going headfirst down the steps, one from a crushed trachea. Most of the rest are in a world of hurt. Nice job.” Kouros thought for a moment. “The Overseer is in surgery right now—and he talked quite a bit while we were waiting for his transport.”
