Page 84 of Devil's Dilemma

Twister’s eyes meet mine. “Restrain her,” I instruct.

As I expected, he’s got zip ties in one of his pockets. She struggles and screams. While we know there are no close neighbours, Judge runs back upstairs, and returns fast with a scarf which he uses to gag her.

I place a call of my own, quickly arranging for Red to send a truck for us.

Sparky approaches. “How the fuck didn’t she see you?” I hiss.

“Fuckin’ civilians,” he grins. “I was standing right behind the door.”

Unable to communicate with her voice, Clare uses her eyes to plead and beg, but I have no mercy.

“Skull your man?” I ask, knowing I have to, for now, confine myself to questions which can be answered either yes or no.

Her head shakes in confusion.

I look around, find what I’m seeking, then take it back to her. I tap the man in the picture holding the baby. “This is the man you call Don?”

She nods, her eyes wide and scared. I have no mercy.

“This your baby?” I tap the photo again.

Another nod. Her throat works as she swallows.

“His?”

I clench my jaw waiting for her response. If she says yes, it will confirm what I’m already thinking. He was in a relationship with another woman all the time he was cosying up to Mel.

A third nod.

“You married?” asks Twister, almost casually.

Slowly, her head dips and then rises.

If Skull hadn’t already signed his death warrant, he certainly has now.

Outside I hear an engine. Judge opens the door and confirms, “It’s Crash.”

A minute later, the Vegas VP appears in the doorway. “Let’s get out of here.”

I’m wasting no time. Skull will be going frantic by now. I’ve ignored it, but that phone has kept ringing. I leave it where it is and follow Twister leading Clare out of the house.

Twister puts her in the middle of the back seat, then sits beside her. Her tied hands twist together in her lap, and as I get in the other door, sandwiching her between us, I can feel her body trembling. Sparky squeezes in beside me.

Judge sits up front with Crash.

None of us speak on the drive back to the compound. That’s done on purpose, not knowing what’s happening, not witnessing friendly repartee, not even knowing where they are going, those are all things which can soften a captive up and help get them in the mindset for talking.

Red is waiting for us. He cocks his eyebrow at me. When I mouth ‘basement’, both rise.

I push her down on a chair—gently, I’m thinking she’s innocent except for the information she holds—then I remove the makeshift gag from her mouth.

“Where am I?” she asks, her eyes flitting wildly from left to right. “Who are you?” Her panic seems to increase the more she takes in of her surroundings, and I’m not surprised.

I haven’t been down here much before, and it’s changed since the last time I was here. New equipment for a start which I suspect might have something to do with Rope and Cuff. The spanking bench probably comes in handier for them, than as a torture device, though the women they bring back might see it differently. There’s a St Andrews cross, and a wall where whips and crops are hanging.

A variety of restraints, some quite interesting are also on display.

Then, on the other side, there are pincers, hammers, knives and saws. Hmm. Dual purpose for certain. The soundproofing I know has been installed probably works for both.

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