chapter Fifteen
Colin bolted from the office with McConnell hot on his heels. He reached for his weapon but came up empty, slapping the spot where his holster usually sat. Shit. It was still in their room, along with Delia’s. He halted just outside the door to the dining room, hand up to keep McConnell back, listening. Without a weapon, he needed to be smart.
Delia’s voice came from inside, cool, calm, collected, and he drew a small breath and said a fervent prayer.
“Are you Kayla? Why don’t you put that down so we can talk?”
“I can’t.” The girl’s voice was thin and reedy, almost singsong. “I always follow my Master’s orders. I’m his good little slave. He told me so.”
Colin’s eyes widened, and he chanced a glance at McConnell. The guy’s face was grim, anger rolling from him in waves. Colin held up his hand, narrowing his eyes until the guy finally nodded. Not happy, but he did it. Colin wasn’t happy either. He wished he knew what Kayla was holding so he knew what to do next. He had no idea if Delia had been able to contact the local sheriff’s department, or if they were on their own.
Delia continued talking in that soothing voice. “Who’s your Master, Kayla?”
“Master Hank.” Kayla giggled, and the sound scraped against his nerves. F*ck, she sounded completely unbalanced, or on something.
He heard movement in the room, light footsteps pacing back and forth. Then a soft sob from someone. Charlotte Smithson, probably.
“Where’s Master Hank now?” Delia’s voice was still soothing but now there was an edge to it. A stressed edge. The eerie similarity between this and the bomb blast that had broken his arm last year, the one that had signaled the end of their relationship, wasn’t lost on him. The only difference was that it was Delia in harm’s way now, not him, and he didn’t like it one f*cking bit.
“I don’t know,” the girl wailed, her voice rising. “Master Hank said I was his slave and good Masters always beat their slaves. He said I liked it but I didn’t know it and if I went with that cop to the shelter, he didn’t want me as his slave anymore, and then he left.”
Heavier footsteps now. Delia’s?
“Why don’t you give me that? You don’t need it here. And if you really like being a slave, Master Gabriel can help you find a Master who knows how to treat one.”
“Nooooo!” The vicious scream curdled his stomach. “It’s all Master Gabriel’s fault. He should’ve let us in. This is his fault!”
Colin flicked a glance at McConnell, who’d gone dead white and looked about to vomit. He didn’t have time to coddle, just shoved his hand against McConnell’s chest to keep him from charging forward. “Go back to your office and call for help,” he said quietly but quickly. “Tell them Maryland Deputy Fire Marshal Colin Butler, badge number twenty sixty-five, says no lights and sirens, and we need fire equipment too.” McConnell looked as if he was going to argue, but Colin was having none of it. He shoved his chest again. “Go.”
With one glance over his shoulder, McConnell disappeared around the corner, and Colin’s breath eased. One crisis averted. Next?
Delia was still talking, her voice low and confiding. “What’d he do?”
“He made us leave, and he called the cops. Master Hank got so mad. And all those people staring at us in the hallway. I didn’t like that. They don’t know Master Hank like I do. He loves me.”
“It sounds like he does love you,” Delia said softly. “Why don’t you put down the gas can and give me the lighter and we can go find Master Gabriel and tell him he has to apologize to Master Hank and you?”
Colin’s heart seized. Gas can? Lighter? F*ck, f*ck, f*ck. He hadn’t known what Delia kept asking Kayla to put down, but he’d figured knife or even gun. But this?
No.
“I don’t think so,” Kayla said, her voice a little firmer now, on the other side of manic. The calm side, which scared the shit out of him. They didn’t call it the calm before the storm for nothing.
He heard footsteps again, and they sounded further away, so he risked a quick glance into the open door.
Delia’s hand twitched against her thigh, and the small movement caught his attention. He took one more step and her hand moved quicker. Hand signals from last year’s op, rusty but obvious. Under control. Stay back.
The same f*cking signals he’d given her right before the blast had knocked him off his feet and thrown him into a wall, giving him a concussion and a broken arm.
He took a quick scan but didn’t see Kayla. The Smithsons were on the sofa together, Jonah holding his wife protectively, her face buried against his shirt. He caught Jonah’s eyes and pointed at the restraints around Charlotte’s wrists, motioning to the clasp between them. The man blinked, looked over to the right and quietly unhooked them. He murmured into his wife’s ear, and pulled her closer. Good. Now at least they all had hands free if they needed to move.
Delia made the signals again, then added one more. The last one wasn’t a hand signal from the op, it was a private one they’d used so no one would figure out what they were up to a year ago. American Sign Language letters I, L, Y.
I love you.
Footsteps moved closer, and he ducked back behind the door opening, but not before he got a whiff of gasoline. Jesus Christ, Kayla was pouring it out on the floor. He pictured the layout of the room, and with a sinking stomach, he realized she was making a circuit, trapping them inside the ring.
The next move would be to set the whole thing on fire. Black spots danced in front of his eyes but he blinked them away. Not f*cking now. He wasn’t going to lose it, and he wasn’t going to lose Delia. Not when he’d just found her again.
“You don’t need to do this, Kayla,” Delia said, her voice still mostly calm with just that slight edge of stress. He was a goddamn mess, cold sweat slicking his skin, and she was handling the negotiating like a pro. He’d never been prouder of her or more in love with her, and she could die. Right here, while he did nothing.
Air moved behind him and he looked over his shoulder to glare at Gabe McConnell, who handed him his weapon and holster. It had been in their locked room, but he wasn’t going to get all bent out of shape that McConnell had entered and gotten it. “Get out of here. She’s doused the room with gasoline and she’s got a lighter,” he hissed.
Even though he was glad to have it, his weapon wouldn’t help. If Kayla held a lighter, he couldn’t take the chance she had it lit. If he shot her, she could drop it.
Their best bet was Delia’s calm.
With a barely imperceptible nod, McConnell stepped back out of the hallway, but before Colin could breathe a sigh of relief, he was back, two fire extinguishers in tow. “I have sprinklers in every room, but just in case,” he murmured.
It was good thinking, because in all the other fires except for the club, the sprinklers and the security systems had been disabled. He didn’t know if she’d done it alone, or if Hank Whitcomb had helped. He hadn’t quite gotten a handle on the way this whole thing shook out, but it looked as though both of them were involved.
Right now, though, his focus was all about Kayla and getting that lighter out of her hands.
“I should go in there,” McConnell whispered. “See if I can calm her down.”
“Bad idea. She blames you, and you could set her off.” A loose thought dropped into his brain. They still didn’t know where Hank Whitcomb was. “Do you have a weapon? I can’t go look for Whitcomb and take care of this at the same time. I need you outside.”
McConnell’s face tightened and he looked as if he was about to argue, but finally, he nodded.
“Watch your back. Keep your eyes open, but see if he’s lurking around the house. Keep him the f*ck away from here.” He didn’t wait to see if McConnell followed his order or not, because Kayla was talking again.
“Are you Master Gabriel’s slave?” the girl asked, and he assumed she was asking Delia. Christ, that was a loaded question. If Dee said yes, then she’d be an immediate target. If she said no, she was expendable.
Dee played the middle of the road. “Master Gabriel doesn’t have a slave. I’m his friend. If you give him a chance, he can be yours too.”
“I don’t have any friends of my own. Master Hank said that’s not allowed.” Her voice rose, slightly manic now. “Stay back! Don’t come any closer or I’ll drop this.”
Shit, shit, shit. She was violently unstable, liable to be set off by any words, no matter what they were.
“Okay,” Delia said, soothingly. “I’ll wait over here. Are you hungry? The food looks so good.”
Food? She was talking about food? Delia was up to something. Light footsteps sounded, and his brain kicked into gear. The food. The buffet was on the far side of the room. She was creating an opening.
Not even twenty seconds later, Jonah and Charlotte Smithson were hurrying out into the hallway. He urged them back toward the front of the house, out the door. “Go!” he ordered softly. “Down the driveway. Master Gabriel is out there, and there should be police there now. Hurry!”
“Delia’s still—” Jonah murmured, but Colin cut him off.
“I know,” he replied, pushing him into the hallway. “Go!”
An unearthly scream came from the dining room. “Where did they go?” Kayla wailed. “They have to die. They were in the hall, laughing with everyone else. Master Hank had them on his wall so I know they have to die.”
“They never laughed,” Delia said in a soothing voice. “Charlotte and I were talking earlier about how much you obviously love Hank and he loves you. They didn’t think it was right that Master Gabriel wouldn’t let you in.”
“Are you sure?” Kayla asked. He could almost hear the frown in it. “Master Hank said they all laughed. I think you’re lying to me. I think you’re Master Gabriel’s slave and I don’t believe you!” Her words ended on a hysterical shout.
F*ck, they were out of time.
Colin bolted for the door, his drawn weapon in one hand and the fire extinguisher in the other, just as Kayla threw the lighter to the floor. Flame whooshed across the carpet, greedily searching for more gasoline. It leaped the distance from the carpet to the curtains, faster than most people thought possible.
“Delia!” He holstered his weapon and hefted the fire extinguisher, aiming it at the wall.
“The sprinklers aren’t working,” she shouted.
He turned the nozzle toward her voice, aiming it at her feet. “Cover your eyes!” He didn’t wait for a response, just knocked down as much fire as he could. He couldn’t see where Kayla had gone, almost didn’t care. All the gasoline had ignited, and the room was getting hotter. There was only so much he could do with the extinguisher, and he was fighting a losing battle.
Delia came through the breach he’d made in the fire, stumbling, coughing on the smoke, but alive and otherwise unharmed. He dragged her into the hallway and down the porch stairs, out of the burning house.
He looked around but didn’t see Kayla outside. F*ck, arsonist or not, he couldn’t leave her in there to burn. He handed Delia his phone and weapon and squeezed her tightly. “I need to make sure the house is clear. Get the fire department up here. I love you,” he shouted, going back up the stairs onto the porch so he could grab the second extinguisher. He made it into the front hallway but he didn’t get far before a small concussive blast knocked him back.
Déjà vu washed over him the same time as the blast. He cracked his head against the wall as he fell, and there was a sickening crunch as his arm smashed into the floor.
His lights went out.
* * *
Delia ran for the house before the boom even ended. The front door was open and smoke poured out of the hallway. Her heart nearly stopped as she reached the top of the porch stairs. Colin was on the floor inside the door, slumped against the wall, the flames licking closer and closer to him.
She didn’t have time to check for injuries, just squatted behind him, tucked her arms under his shoulders and dragged him away from the flames. He was heavy, but she was motivated. He groaned but she continued, almost falling down the wide porch steps, wincing as his feet bumped down them one by one. Finally he was out of the house, away from the fire.
She collapsed on the ground on her knees, cradling his head in her lap as she waited for the fire trucks to reach the driveway, rocking him back and forth. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The litany played over and over again in her head in time with her body as she rocked, her eyes streaming from the smoke, and maybe from the fear.
She heard the engines pull up, and people milling all around her, firefighters with hoses, cops, paramedics, but she tuned it all out, focused only on the rise and fall of Colin’s chest. He was breathing, thank God, but she was afraid if she stopped looking, he’d stop breathing.
“Ma’am? You need to let us see him,” one of the paramedics said, touching her arm.
She flinched and held Colin tighter. Voices rumbled around her, and then she felt a presence at her back.
“Delia, honey, you need to let go of Colin so they can examine him.” Gabe McConnell said, squatting behind her.
She shook her head.
“Let him go, Delia,” he ordered in the voice he used as Master Gabriel. Before she realized what he was doing, he slid an arm under hers and across her body, locking her to his chest. He had her tight, and she couldn’t move. He nodded, and the paramedics held Colin’s head as he lifted her to her feet. “Shh. They’ve got him, and I’ve got you.”
She struggled for one brief moment, but he only held her closer, tighter, until she sagged against him, submitting to his dominance. Not a sexual type of control, but one that seemed a hundred percent protective.
She bit back a sob as they loaded him into an ambulance, but she was calmer now, thanks to Gabe McConnell. When the ambulance sped off, she let out a shuddery sigh. “You can let me go now.”
He squeezed once, tightly, leaning his chin on top of her head. And then he loosened his hold, stepping back.
She turned, and her heart twisted. He was staring at his home, his business, at the smoke billowing from the right side of the structure, with a bleak look on his face. Colin hadn’t been the only victim. So had Gabe McConnell. She stepped forward and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry about your home, Gabe.”
“Not your fault.” He paused, then laughed without a trace of humor. “She must’ve disabled the sprinklers. A f*cking fortune in fire-suppression equipment, and it was all taken down by one mentally unstable bottom manipulated by an evil, power-hungry top with a God complex.”
Delia leaned back. Jesus, how had she forgotten? “Kayla?”
He looked down at her and grimaced. “She’s dead. She never made it out of the house.”
Her heart clenched. “That poor girl. She didn’t have a chance.”
He nodded. “They’ve got Hank Whitcomb in custody too. He’s blaming her for everything, the prick. Telling everyone who’ll listen.” He looked back at the house. “F*ck, f*ck, f*ck.”
She hugged him once more, then stepped back. “I have to check in with the local cops here, and then I have to get to the hospital to check on Colin.” Her stomach dropped as she said the words, but she pushed on over a suddenly tight throat. She couldn’t leave with clearing the air. “Thank you for everything.”
“You didn’t give me much choice,” he said, his words surprisingly mild considering he’d been steamrollered into helping them.
“Oh, that. Yeah. But I meant personally.” His startled eyes met hers, and she dropped them to the ground. Her voice was low, for his ears only. “For helping me see that I really am what I thought I was all along, but was too scared to learn. It wasn’t an act, not one single piece of it.”
Once again, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his all-knowing, direct gaze. “You’re going to make Colin a great sub. But if he can’t or won’t top for you, come and see me.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her forehead, featherlight. The devil lit his eyes, temporarily chasing away the shadows she was sure would remain there for quite some time. “I’ll be more than happy to introduce you to some Doms who’d love to show you the ropes.”
She felt the heat rush to her face. “Thank you, Master Gabriel.”
* * *
At the hospital, she paced the hallway outside the exam room where Colin was being checked over. Low conversation came from inside, and then a groan. “Damn it, that hurts. Let me twist your arm and see how it f*cking feels.”
A few minutes later, the doctor stepped into the hallway. “Ma’am. Are you Delia, by chance?”
“Yes,” she said, pulling out her shield and ID. “Detective Delia Robinson. I’m Colin’s partner.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. He’s been asking about you. He’s got a slight concussion and I’m sending him for X-rays, but I’m pretty sure he’s got a broken arm.”
Her stomach heaved. Same damn things as the last time she waited for him in a hospital, but this time, she wasn’t going to let him use it as an excuse to end things. Or, really, to set things up so there was nothing left to do but end things.
She’d learned so much about herself and about him in the past two weeks and, while Master Gabriel’s offer to introduce her to other Doms was generous, her heart belonged to Colin. The only man she wanted dominating her was him, or it was nobody.
And nobody wasn’t an answer she’d accept.
“May I see him?”
The doctor nodded. “That might keep him still. He’s in a lot of pain with his arm, but he’s been trying to get out of bed.” The man’s brow raised and a quirk of smile lit the corner of his mouth. “Looking for you.”
Her heart sped up. “Okay, thanks. I’ll see what I can do.”
The doctor headed off in the other direction, and she took a deep breath before stepping inside the small exam room. She forced calm into her body language, but her senses still took a jolt. Colin was sprawled on the bed as though he owned the place, but his normally tanned features were pale, his eyes closed and his lips tight against the pain. One arm lay immobilized against his chest, and he had an IV in the other.
“Hey,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb him if he’d managed to drift off.
His eyes flew open wide. “Delia.” He used his good hand to push himself up, but she intercepted him.
“No, don’t. You’re going to hurt yourself more.”
He dropped back against the bed again, a hiss escaping from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, that hurts. I can’t f*cking believe I broke my arm again.”
She reached out and swept his hair from his forehead, leaning forward to kiss him there, careful not to jostle him. “You do seem to be a magnet for this kind of thing.”
He grimaced. “Lucky me.”
All humor fled. “You are lucky. So am I, so are the Smithsons, and so is Gabe McConnell.” Her eyes misted and she put her hand on his good arm, squeezing gently. A giant lump settled in her throat, making her words come out a strangled whisper. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You saved yourself. God, Dee. When I realized she had gas and a lighter—” His voice trailed off and his eyes blinked closed. “Scared the shit out of me, but you held it together. Jesus, you were calm.”
“Only on the outside,” she admitted wryly, lacing her fingers with his. “Inside, I was trying hard not to throw up. Or give up.”
He opened his eyes. “Did she make it out?”
Her heart was heavy for the young, emotionally unstable girl who’d been manipulated by an older, cunning, sick bastard. “No, she didn’t. But we got Whitcomb. He was there, waiting for her. Wouldn’t shut up about how it was all her idea.”
Disgust etched itself on Colin’s face. “We’ll get him. With his print at the one scene, and what’s on his computer, we should be able to get him.” He shifted slightly on the bed. “Goddamn, this hurts. How’d Kayla get in?”
“The alarm system was off because he was expecting guests. Looks like she came in the back door. The team has McConnell’s security tapes, so we should see for sure then.”
“What about McConnell’s place?”
Guilt sliced through her. “A lot of damage on the dining room side of the house. Water damage on a good part of the first floor. I’m not an expert, but it looked fixable. I don’t know what he’ll decide to do.” She couldn’t hold back her sigh.
He frowned. “Why the guilty face? We did what we had to do, or more people would’ve died.”
“I know that. But it still leaves a sour feeling in my stomach.”
“Think about it this way. If we hadn’t done this, hadn’t warned him, everyone in that house might’ve died.”
She hadn’t considered that, and he was right. “True.”
“Did he say anything?”
“About that, no.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get into the whole thing about what he did say. Now wasn’t really the time to talk about their relationship, and she hoped Colin hadn’t caught her slip of the tongue.
Wrong.
“He said something to you. Spill.”
She tried to pull her hand free, but he was surprisingly strong for someone in pain.
He frowned. “What did he say, Delia?”
His words had the bite of an order, even though his voice was reed thin. She responded to it, almost on instinct. “He said that if you weren’t interested in being my Dom, he’d introduce me to Doms who’d show me the ropes.” She gave a half laugh. “He might’ve meant that literally.”
Colin growled. “I already warned him that wasn’t going to happen.”
Her heart sped up but she wasn’t going to ask him to explain himself, not now. When his arm was set, and his head was clear, then she would. The arrival of a hospital transporter bought her time.
The older man released the wheels on the gurney and hooked Colin’s IV to a pole on the bed. “I’ll be taking you to X-ray.” He smiled at her. “We’ll be back shortly.”
She leaned over and kissed Colin’s cheek. He smelled like smoke and she was sure she did too, but she didn’t care. She pressed her face to his and stayed there for a moment. When she pulled back, her eyes were misty.
So were his.
“I’ll call the team and see what they’ve got,” she said, her voice thick. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Shortly turned out to be three hours. To keep herself occupied, she checked in with the task force. Not only were the Mendozas and the McDonoughs silent partners in the bondage club in Baltimore, the Lindstroms and the Wests had been members there. The manager of the club had mentioned that he’d gotten information about McConnell’s retreat and had posted it at the club, which is how they’d all wound up at Bondage and Breakfast. Whitcomb had gone to the club as a prospective member and had seen the notice.
When the transporter brought Colin back, he was in a wheelchair, his arm set in a cast and held in place with a sling. His eyes were glazed with pain or drugs, she wasn’t sure which.
“He insists on being released,” the doctor said, frowning. “Does he have someone to stay with? He shouldn’t be alone with this concussion, even though it’s mild.”
Stubborn man. “He can stay with me.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Colin said petulantly. “I can take care of myself. I always have. And don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
The babysitter comment stung, but she cut him some slack since he wasn’t quite himself. She forced her own feelings and worries away. “Well, too bad, because you’re getting one. Or you’re staying here.”
The doctor laughed. “I can see he’s in good hands.” He handed her the list of instructions and symptoms to look for, then left, promising to have someone come by to discharge him.
“You don’t need to—”
“Shut up, Colin. You’ll stay with me at my place, since it’s closer to everything.”
“I don’t want to—”
She blew out a sigh. “I said shut up, and I mean it. You’re coming with me, and that’s that. Don’t make me pull out the restraints Master Gabriel gave me. I’ll use them, I swear it.”
He shut up.