“How long did you have to endure the terms of this contract?”
“While there was no end date on the contract, I had to endure this treatment for a little more than a year, until I was able to escape from my father’s house.”
“Tell us a little about what that year involved.”
“As I said, Lyle Gibson enforced my father’s contract,” she added. Lyle certainly was no innocent bystander in what had been done to her during that time. “He made the arrangements for my body to be used by the men Father told him he wanted to make business deals with. Mr. Gibson then videotaped those sessions for Father to watch later.”
“Please tell the court if there were any consequences for not following through with the requests made by your father and his clients over the course of that year?”
“Mr. Gibson would remind me every time I was to meet with clients what my father would do if I messed up and lost them both money. The threat of being sold as a sex slave was always foremost among their threats.”
“What are some of the other tactics used to gain your acquiescence?”
“I would be locked in my room, although that was actually a reprieve for me. Still, at those times, my father would withhold food from me.”
“Did your father follow through on any other specific threats?”
“Yes. With the help of Mr. Gibson, he would beat me if I didn’t perform to his expectations. Those beatings escalated in severity throughout that year.”
“Do any of these beatings stand out in your memory?”
“All of them do, but the worst came the night my now-husband rescued me from the two men from Tokyo.”
“Mrs. Orlando, please tell the court what happened nine years ago, on September 29, in the penthouse of your father’s hotel in La Jolla.”
“I overheard my father that morning instructing Lyle to allow the clients to go further than any had done before. I was being punished for something. I don’t remember what now.” She had no recollection other than that threat and not knowing what it would mean. She hadn’t revealed to the DA that he’d branded her to prepare her for these sick bastards, either. While that brand no longer had any power over her, she needed to tell the court about it so they could understand Gentry’s depravity.
Her heart beat harder. She reached for a bottle of water and twisted off the cap. After downing it in just a few swallows, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe it still held a little more power than she wanted to admit. “I should back up a couple of weeks. In preparation for my being used by these two potential business associates, they…” She glanced over at the jury box. Every face was riveted on her testimony. In the gallery, the room was packed. There were even a few people standing, all waiting to hear every sordid detail.
The DA prompted quietly, “What did they do to you, Savannah?”
“My father branded me.”
A collective gasp tore through the room, and someone whispered loudly, “My God!” Many on the jury turned to Gentry as if to read his face and try and tell whether she was being truthful. She couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to think about that any longer.
“Where did he brand you?”
She swallowed hard, her face growing wet with perspiration and perhaps some tears. “On my labia.” The words came out in a near whisper. “I later learned the brand had partly been done to please these two clients from Tokyo. They must have been extremely important to my father’s business. I do remember them taking photographs of the brand.”
Ropes. Quirt. Electricity.
“Can you describe the brand?”
“Interlocking letters, my father’s initials, GG.”
Good girl. Damián’s good girl.
“What did those clients do to you that night?”
“I was there to be acted upon. They tied me to the bed, completely immobilized. Against my will,” she added, facing Gentry, venom erupting from within her for all he’d done to her. Yet his breathing had become faster. He licked his lips, and she nearly threw up to think that he seemed to be getting turned on to hear the details. Was it because she’d deprived him of watching the video of that particular session more than once or twice because she’d stolen the hard drive? What a twisted piece-of-shit bastard.
“What did Gentry’s clients do to you with his permission?”
“They used a quirt as a warm-up and then later what I learned was called a violet wand.”
“Please describe the quirt and violet wand for those unfamiliar with them.” the DA inquired.
She wasn’t here to testify as a BDSM expert and wondered if her knowledge of such things would taint her reputation with the jury, but they didn’t know she lived a lifestyle that used such equipment in much more pleasant ways. She did want the jury to understand the terms in order to better picture what had happened to her.
“The quirt is like a riding crop, only with a smaller handle and with two falls or lashes at the tip. The violet wand is an electrical device used to stimulate nerve endings on various parts of the skin or as conducted through metal.” And in the hands of my Dom, it’s delicious. “The smaller the tip, the more painful it becomes. My father and Lyle used a particularly small metal tip on the violet wand to brand me.”
Savannah’s chest tightened as she remembered more of the conversation she’d overheard that morning Damián had rescued her. The floodgates seemed to have opened up since her hypnosis session.
“Earlier that day, Father told Lyle to let these two men do anything they wished short of vaginal penetration. This was a new development. In the past, no penetration whatsoever had been permitted.”
“How did you interpret this change?”
“I assumed it meant I would have to do oral, but I wasn’t sure what other penetration Gentry was allowing.” Would they have raped her anally if Damián hadn’t come in to save her?
Oh, Damián, I wish you were here with me now.
But suddenly, she realized she was doing better than she’d expected to. You’re the strongest woman I know. She hadn’t believed his words before but now saw she was going to get through this and be even stronger for having faced Gentry once and for all.
“What made you trust Damián Orlando enough to leave the hotel with him the next morning?”
She touched her collar and smiled. “He ran off the clients, stood up to Mr. Gibson, and stayed with me overnight to protect me at a time when I was at my most vulnerable. Unlike all the men in my past—he spent time with me without demanding or taking anything from me.”
“What happened next?”
“We spent the day together. He took me to his favorite beach, which also happened to be the one where my mother took me on our last day together. But that night, Damián unknowingly brought me back to my father’s home thinking I’d be safe there.”
“Did you tell Mr. Orlando what had been going on in your home since you were eight?”
She glanced down at her hands and saw two of her fingers were bleeding. “No.” The words barely made it out of her constricting throat.
“Why not?”
“Shame. Fear.” She met the DA’s gaze again. “Fear not only for myself, but for what they might do to Damián, who was an employee at my father’s hotel.”
“What happened after you went inside the house that night?”
“Both my father and Lyle were waiting and furious that I had failed to serve my father’s clients the night before in the penthouse. They took me to Father’s office and took turns holding me down and beating me. When one grew too exhausted to continue, they switched places.” Both men enjoyed her struggles and exerting their dominance over her.
“I was tortured that night as well.” She refused to let her sadistic father get off hearing her explicitly describe the acts, though.
Gentry shoved his legal pad at his attorney, pointing to something he’d written, but Abbot made no objection.
“Please tell the court in what ways the defendant tortured you that night.�
��
Saying she’d been tortured wasn’t enough? Thank God Damián wasn’t in the room to hear these things.
Savannah drew a deep breath, forcing her mind to remain in the present rather than relive these memories. “They knew how I felt about the violet wand after they’d used it to brand me a few weeks earlier. Just the sound of it terrified me. That night, they took turns holding it next to my ears and making it sizzle and crackle to heighten my fears and elicit more screams during this particular beating. Unlike past ones, this time they not only inflicted extreme pain and bruising, but broke the skin on my back, buttocks, and legs. They inflicted so many gashes that they needed to wait for me to heal before hooking me up with clients again. But I ran away before they could send me back to the penthouse.” At least she hadn’t had to be with clients again for the duration of her time under his rule.
“After that night, were you ever again forced to serve your father’s clients?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’d been beaten so badly that I couldn’t walk for weeks. The lacerations and severe bruising were visible six to eight weeks later. Perhaps they didn’t want to have a client alert authorities to abuse.” As if these clients had any ounce of human decency in them. In the end, it was a blessing.
“Objection. Speculation.
“Sustained.”
“What kept you from seeing the defendant’s clients after you healed?”
“I pretended to be more debilitated than I was for a month or so after I’d healed. Then I was able to find the strength to escape on Christmas Eve that year.” All because of Damián’s precious gift to her—Mari.
“How were you able to endure all these years of torture and abuse, Mrs. Orlando?”
She sobered, pausing a moment to gather her words. “I’m not sure. I almost didn’t survive it. Before meeting those last clients, I had made the decision to take my own life as soon as I returned to the house.” She’d had nothing to lose or to live for then.
“What stopped you from committing suicide?”
“Partly, meeting Damián Orlando and his kindness to me, but it also took me a little while to sort out what my future could hold if I was to escape. During those initial weeks after the beating, I’d been barely able to get out of bed, much less follow through on a suicide plan.” She chose not to mention her pregnancy, not wanting those listening to cheapen what she and Damián had shared that day.
“Then memories of my day with Damián seeped back into my consciousness.” Savannah smiled and glanced at her wedding band, thinking of the man who’d become her rock. “I’d never met anyone like him, a man who showed respect for me and my body.”
Returning her gaze to the DA, she added, “It had been so long since I’d seen even a glimpse of humanity. Having seen that decent people existed in the world, I chose life and ran away from my father’s house, taking refuge at a church in Solana Beach. I didn’t return until I was kidnapped this past March.”
The DA let the words sink in a moment. “No further questions, Your Honor.” The DA took her seat.
“Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?”
When Abbott made no move to stand and go to the podium, Gentry began whispering frantically at him. He stabbed the legal pad in front of him where she’d seen Gentry scribbling notes during her testimony the few times she’d looked his way.
“No questions, Your Honor.”
Gentry’s face grew a mottled red as he stared in her direction. She didn’t break eye contact with him, standing up to him without cowering, until the judge said, “The witness is excused.”
She took a deep, cleansing breath, stood, and started back to her seat. It was over. At last.
Gentry continued to stare her down as she returned to the gallery, a last-ditch attempt to make her believe he still had power over her. But those days were gone. He meant nothing to her. As soon as she could get out of the courtroom, she’d drive to San Bernardino and put today’s ordeal behind her. She also couldn’t wait to tell Damián and Adam how she’d done. Adam wasn’t just her husband’s surrogate dad but also the only man who’d ever been a real father to her.
Gentry would have no control over her body or mind ever again.
She’d faced down the monster who had made her cower in fear so many nights—and days. And she’d won.
She wasn’t certain if the final words the jury heard from her would be enough to sway their opinions, or if some would discount her testimony altogether because of the way Gentry had tarnished her image with his lies. But with an oddly relieved heart, Savannah returned to her seat in the gallery.
Alone. If Damián had been here, she might have collapsed against him in tears of relief and joy. Instead, she held her head up and stared down the man she’d once called her father.
She’d handled herself fairly well throughout the trial, only losing her shit—well, her lunch—once during the trial. How would the jurors read her responses? Too much emotion? Not enough? Ice princess? Wounded princess?
She sagged against the back of the chair, suddenly spent. She needed a break but didn’t want to miss any of the proceedings.
As if the judge had heard her silent plea, he adjourned for fifteen minutes. Savannah was out of the courtroom in a flash. After taking care of her primary need, she walked over to the sink to wash her hands. Then she wet a paper towel with cold water, dabbing it on her face to cool down.
Staring at herself in the mirror, she was surprised to see that the eyes staring back at her weren’t those of a victim but of a victor. She’d stared down the evil that had fathered her and won.
Now her thoughts turned to where Adam and Damián were. She hadn’t been able to think much about what they were going through today but hoped they were being treated with the respect American veterans and heroes deserved.
They’d understand that she’d needed to keep her focus on what was happening in this courtroom. As soon as possible, she’d head to San Bernardino.
Back in the courtroom moments later, the judge asked, “Do the People wish to call any other rebuttal witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, but he isn’t available this morning. I wonder if we might adjourn until after lunch. I will make every effort to have him transported here by then.”
Who was she talking about? When the DA had told her this would be the end of her going up on the stand, Savannah had assumed that also meant the end of testimony and rebuttals. Apparently not.
“Who is the witness?” the judge asked.
“Lyle Gibson.”
Her heart jumped into her throat. Again? There was plenty more he could testify about, but much of it would incriminate him, too. However, he’d already incriminated himself earlier in the trial by describing his part in the night Maman and John were murdered. That he’d been in her father’s life that far back had surprised Savannah, who didn’t remember him before the year he’d been her handler. He had to know any number of other secrets he could tell. What were the chances he’d be honest?
If the DA was calling him, did that mean he’d agreed to corroborate some of the things Savannah had refuted on Gentry’s account? Only time would tell.
But first, she had some things to take care of during the lunch break to expedite getting Damián and Adam out of jail as early as possible, so she hurried out the moment court went into recess.
Chapter Thirty-One
After the court adjourned for the day five hours later, pride and self-confidence swelled in Savannah’s chest as she descended the courthouse steps and made her way to the rental vehicle. She’d proven to herself today that she could stare down George Gentry and eviscerate him—alone—without letting him make her cower in fear. She’d never want to go through that again, but knowing she could if need be was empowering. Gentry thought he’d destroyed her safety net by having Damián and Adam arrested and removed from the court today. But he would fail due to Damián’s and her preparation for the trial.
> The look on Gentry’s face when she refuted his fictional version of what had happened on her eighteenth birthday, as well as the other lies in his testimony, was priceless. If steam could have poured from his eyes and ears, it would have. Savannah smiled. A great weight had been lifted off her. She felt like Mulan after a decisive battle.
You can never hurt me again.
Even now, her mind reeled from what Lyle had revealed in his rebuttal this afternoon. She couldn’t wait to tell Damián, but her focus had shifted to getting Damián and Adam out of jail.
During the lunch break, she’d called an attorney to make them an appointment for tomorrow. At the advice of the office’s paralegal, she’d transferred twenty-five thousand dollars from savings to her checking account to cover their expected bonds. Savannah wanted them out of there—tonight. She’d also grabbed a quick bite knowing Damián wouldn’t be happy with her if she skipped a meal.
Finally making her way north, using the hands-free Bluetooth in the SUV, she’d called the attorney’s office once more to check on things. Damián and Adam still hadn’t been booked, due to a large number of arrests today. The paralegal on the phone assured her she could post bond after hours, just as soon as they were assigned booking numbers. But she wouldn’t be able to see them until they were released.
Today had been one of the longest days of her life. Yes, she’d endured far worse in the past, but that was before Damián had become such an important part of her life. Tonight, she needed Damián’s arms wrapped around her while lying in their bed at Camp Pendleton. If ever she expected the return of her nightmares, it would be on this night. The shadowy memories that had been lurking at the edges of her memory these past months—and for years before that—had taken shape and been unleashed full force.
Not to mention that the trial wasn’t over yet. But they were so close.
Once again, she turned her thoughts to what Damián and Adam had faced today. Damián hadn’t shared a lot about his juvenile detention incarceration with her, but today had to have brought up some bad memories for him.
Somebody’s Perfect Page 29