Page 193 of Deep Cover

6

Annie

The screaming was coming from somewhere in the house. My first instinct was to respond as law enforcement. I ran to the door, already grabbing at a gun that wasn't on my person any more than actual clothing or a cell phone or a badge were.

The door was locked. For a second I hammered on it and shouted before reason returned. Not only had the people I was screaming for been the ones to lock me in, but whatever was happening, it wasn't happening to me and right now, that was the only thing I needed to worry about.

Except that was impossible. Because wherever here was, it was ruled by only one lord and master. Of that I had no doubt. Vincent ruled whatever this house was. That meant whoever was screaming – my money was on Kie though it could have been some girl brought in, god knows I was some girl dragged in – and if Vincent made someone he intended to keep scream like that, what the hell would he do with me?

For the hours that followed I drank water from the bathroom sink, paced the confines of my new room, tried to sleep, searched for food as hunger started to gnaw at me, and went back to pacing.

Vincent sent a guard to get me at sundown. She was a bodybuilder, that was certain, and she was in Vincent's employ. There was something about her, though, that didn't seem like she'd hurt me just because she could.

"Can you tell me where you'll be taking me?" I asked. I was waiting for her to handcuff me or click the restraints to the collar around my neck but she just gestured at me to pick up the shoes.

I sighed.

"Just bring them with you," she said, as if she shared a loathing for them. "I'm just taking you to dinner. You'll be fed and then you'll attend Mr. Geddes as he eats."

I didn't like the word attend but there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. "Thanks. Can you tell me what the screaming was I heard this afternoon?"

Her eyes snapped to a spot distant and past my left ear and she said flatly, "No, ma'am, I could not."

I tried again. "Can you tell me if it was Kie who was screaming?" I had my shoes in hand but no desire to leave the room, not even for food.

'No, ma'am, I could not."

I narrowed my eyes at her distant expression. "Are we under surveillance right now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Was that a flicker of relief that ran across her face? It didn't matter. She'd been decent enough to me and I wasn't going to pursue it. I let her lead me to a kitchen where a variety of domestics or help or staff or whatever household workers were called by those rich enough to have them were also eating their dinners. The food was hot and decently prepared and nicely presented and five minutes later I couldn't have said what I ate, only that I wasn't hungry anymore.

Because it had become clear that I was going to be attending the dinner where Vincent was entertaining.

I ate fast. Just in case I got called away. Or in case he didn't feed me for another twenty-four hours.

I found out what the screaming was at the same time I found myself in the dining room.

Vincent had guests, two men in expensive suits and relaxed expressions that identified them as peers.

They glanced up at me in my sweats and back to the meals in front of them. I took a look around the room and froze. Across from me, Kie was chained to the wall by a belt around her waist. Her hair was everywhere, in her face, stuck to the tracks of her tears, in her mouth. She couldn't do anything about it because her hands were stretched overhead and fastened to the wall.

There were whip marks all over her body. Whatever she'd done to make him angry, he'd been taking it out on her for hours. There were dark circles under her eyes and every few minutes she fell off her feet, collapsing in some direction or another, yanked back up by the chains holding her in place.

Probably it had been happening since I first heard her screaming. The screaming had stopped because Kie was just too exhausted, too wasted, to go on screaming.

I could tell some of what had gone on with her. Her hair had been pulled violently enough there was actually blood in it, thin traces of red mixed in with the black. Someone had slapped her repeatedly and her mouth was swollen. There were whip marks on her bare breasts and on her back.

But I stopped then, and drank in what I was seeing. Not with pleasure, not even for my enemy and there was no doubt that's what Kie was.

But because she'd been his play toy for some time. They were married, for fuck's sake. And there was no reason that made sense, that she'd be broken by what had been done to her. Someone had had sex with her, that was obvious from traces on her skin, but this was her husband and if it wasn't him, I didn't think he'd allow even the most trusted and coveted colleague to go bareback where he himself later would.

All things considered, Kie's condition wasn't much worse than what I anticipated some "rough play" with Vincent Geddes generally ended with.

I dragged my eyes away from her and back to the table and a sudden, strange sensation swept over me: The knowledge that it was very possible I was living my last minutes on Earth. Because there was no way that Vincent's colleagues were going to rape me.

I'd go out fighting. I'd take one of them with me. I'd take all of them with me if I could. And if I could do that, if I could take someone with me?

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