by Jane Henry
* * *
It took all of thirty seconds to get Blake and Mantle in the back room, as Matteo paced and swore, scouring every camera feed, and Slay filled Alice in on what was going down.
"I don't know how to work these things!" Matteo growled. "We need to fucking rewind them! How do you rewind them?"
Alice told her story to Blake and Mantle, and before she was done Blake was already zoning in on the camera right outside the employees' room.
"It's illegal to have a camera in a private area," Blake explained. "Expectation of privacy and all that. Could get sued. But maybe we can at least see how they got out."
He rewound it and they all watched as Deb entered the changing room, and shortly afterward Hillary opened the door to the changing room as well, her phone falling out of her bag. Then they saw Alice stoop and pick up the phone. Alice opened the door and a moment later came out with a puzzled expression on her face.
"I'm telling you, they vanished," she said. Matteo jumped as the phone in his pocket rang.
He didn't recognize the number. Dread crept over him, and he knew he had to answer.
"Hello?"
"Why, hello Master Matteo," came a low, calculated voice on the other end.
"Who is this?" Matteo demanded, and all eyes in the room went to him.
"Oh, you know who this is," came the low drawl. "We had a chance meeting at Black Box last year, didn't we?"
Matteo fisted his hand so hard it hurt. "Where is she?" he hissed.
"Far away from you," came the voice. "Maybe you shouldn't have left her alone. But you see, I'm not a cruel man. I thought you'd like to hear her while she joins me in a little threesome."
"You son of a—"
"Matteo!" came Hillary's scream on the other end of the line. "The closet!" There was a loud thump and a wail and the phone went dead.
"Son of a bitch!" Matteo swore. "He's fucking got her. She yelled closet. What the fucking hell?"
"How much do you know about Deb?" Mantle was asking Blake, but Matteo was already out the door with Slay and Alice on his heels.
"Matteo!" Blake shouted.
"Checking the damn employee room," he responded and he was on his way.
They reached the employees' room and Matteo yanked the door open, but it was vacant. It was a small room, a break room of sorts with a dorm-sized refrigerator, table, and several small stalls for employees to change for a scene or to serve. He kicked open each stall and even hoisted himself up to where a small curtain covered a tiny window, but the only window in the room was far too small for anyone to fit through.
"What the hell," he murmured, staring at the walls and shaking his head. There had to be a way they escaped, or else they were still in the room. He tore through the cabinets again, but they were empty.
"She said the closet," Matteo muttered, and he yanked open the closet next to the vanity, though it made no sense.
"Is there a vent in here?" Alice asked, peeking her head in. "Or some kind of a window? If we just—ooohh!" She gasped as she moved the garment bags aside and pointed a trembling finger at a narrow, hidden staircase.
Matteo swore, pushed past her, and they all instinctively moved as quickly and as soundlessly as possible.
* * *
"Private rooms," Matteo whispered, as soon as they came to the top of the stairs. "These are the private rooms Blake rents out. You access them from the main club with a key and passcode, but he hasn't let them since we started the operation." Matteo leaned into Alice.
"Go down to Blake and Mantle," he handed her his ear piece and showed her how to use it. "You tell them what we found, and tell Blake I said I want security at the entrance of the private rooms." She nodded. "Go!" he hissed, as he and Slay moved wordlessly down the hallway. They could hear the faintest sound of voices in the room ahead.
"You little bitch," said a female voice. "Think you can get him to come and rescue you now?" Her voice trailed off and Matteo had to listen hard. Hillary's voice was stronger.
"You don't know Matteo," she said. "He'll find me." Her voice ended in a strangled gasp, and Matteo felt fury pumping through every inch of his body.
A deep, cruel male chuckle responded and there was a sickening sound of metal clicking into place and a low scream. God, what were they doing to her? He'd kill them. He'd fucking kill them. He and Slay crept along, and he was thankful he'd worked with Slay before, thankful they both had military training, the two of them wordlessly communicating in the face of danger and rescue, not knowing exactly what lay ahead of them.
"We're gonna record every minute of this and send it to your fucking dominant," came the voice.
Matteo stood on one side of the door and Slay the other. Slay gestured to the door knob and then lifted his shoulder, a demonstration of what he was about to do. Matteo nodded. Slay would try the door knob, prepared to knock the door down, giving Matteo room to charge, and hopefully taking Hillary's captors by surprise.
Matteo didn't fucking care if there were ten of them. He'd fucking kill them all before they realized he'd even come in the room.
It was a solid door, meant to give the occupants privacy, but if anyone who knew how to take a door down it was Slay. It'd been his specialty when they were deployed.
Matteo held up three fingers. "On three," he mouthed.
Three.
Two.
One.
Slay tried the knob, found it locked, and with a swift move, ran back and heaved himself at the door. He broke through it with a loud grunt, and Matteo was right behind him. The scene that met his eyes had him seeing red before he charged—Hillary tied by all fours to the bed, stripped, Deb a few feet away holding a phone, frozen in the midst of recording, and Marauder, a fistful of Hillary's hair in his hands, stripped to the waist. Matteo caught him with a right hook before Marauder had a chance to respond, and Slay had his massive arms wrapped around Deb who screamed and tried to get away but was helpless to move.
Matteo knew he could kill Marauder with his bare hands, right now, and never look back. He landed another vicious punch to Marauder's stomach, which left him doubling over, gasping, and before he could recover, Matteo hit his jaw. Marauder gave a scream of rage and lunged back at Matteo, but Matteo was too quick. He dodged the attack, and punched Marauder so hard he felt and heard a satisfying crunch and knew he'd broken ribs. As Marauder reeled from the blow, Matteo heaved him up and shoved him against the wall, one solid punch after another landing in rapid succession. He was dimly aware of the screams from Deb, and that others had entered the room from another entrance—Mantle, Blake, and Alice—but he could concentrate on nothing but putting a decided end to the terror and assault Marauder had inflicted.
Blow after blow fell and still, his rage blinded him.
Someone pulled him off, and he heard Slay's voice in his ear. "I'd be happy to see you kill him, man, but you don't want to go there today. You're gonna hate me now but thank me later."
And hard as Matteo tried to get away, writhing, wanting to finish the beating, he couldn't. Slay was too strong, holding him in a vise-like grip.
Matteo slowly came to his senses, realizing that Marauder lay bloody and unconscious on the floor, Deb was cuffed on her knees with Mantle over her, and Alice was undoing the restraints around Hillary's wrists.
Hillary.
Oh, God, she'd seen his vicious loss of self-control. He felt sick as he watched Alice cover her in a blanket. He had no recollection of going to her, but the next thing he knew Hillary was cradled in his arms, sniffling into his shoulder, one little hand flat against his chest, the other still protectively tucked up against her.
"I knew you'd come," she whispered. "I didn't know how but I knew you would."
He wanted to carry her straight home, back to his place, where he could wash away the ugliness of the evening, hold her close, and bring her peace. He knew it wasn't time yet for that, and that he'd be patient. But there was one thing he knew for sure.
He was never going
to let her go.
* * *
The debriefing took place in the back room with Blake, Mantle, and the rest of the crew. Marauder and Deb were taken away in handcuffs, with a laundry list of accusations and felonies that were bound to lock both of them away. Deb had confessed to being the one that had drugged the employees of The Club, slipping 'vitamins' to unsuspecting victims, and passing information on to Marauder. A subdued, brave Hillary met the questions of everyone there. When she was being questioned about whether or not Marauder had raped her, Matteo had held his breath.
"He tried," she said, as Matteo's hands clenched into fists and he focused on deep breathing through his nose while counting to ten in Italian, "but I kicked him so hard in the nuts he hit me instead, and then tied me up. But that was when Matteo came and saved me."
Kicked him in the nuts.
That's my girl, he thought. Takes shit from no one.
"She needs to go home now," he'd said, after calling Dom and Heidi and filling them in with every single detail. Dom was on the other end of the line, swearing and fuming. He'd done the job of driving away and giving Marauder the illusion that Matteo was gone, but had been told to stay away from The Club by Mantle. It was too risky. According to Heidi, he'd been pacing their living room ever since, and the two of them were relieved to get the call.
"You can bring her here tonight," Dom said. "We have a spare room."
Matteo took the phone into the hallway and shut the door so Hillary would not hear.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he said.
Silence on the other end of the phone. And then, "I'm just saying she may not want to be alone after all that, and she might want to be with her sister," Dom insisted.
Matteo rubbed a weary hand over his eyes and inhaled, calming himself. "She wants to be with me, Dom, and she will be."
Another pause, before Dom spoke again. "For tonight," he said.
"We'll talk about this later," Matteo said, hanging up the phone and shutting it off.
He did not care anymore what Dom thought, or what Dom said. Dom had been insistent that he not get into bed with Hillary, becauseDom knew Matteo hadn't been dependable or committed when it came to women.
That was then.
This was now.
Matteo went back into the room and linked a hand around Hillary's.
"Taking her home," he said, nabbing her bag and his coat from the corner of the room. Blake nodded.
"Day off tomorrow, Matt," he said, and Matteo nodded his thanks. Matteo watched as Alice threw her arms around Hillary impulsively, and Hillary hugged her back. He reached out as they pulled away and squeezed Alice's hand.
"Thank you," he said with meaning, and she nodded shyly. Slay stood watching all of them, arms across his massive chest, still looking as furious as ever at the shit that'd gone down.
"You did good, girl," he said to Alice in a husky voice and Alice's face flushed pink. She looked at the floor and bit her lip, but nodded meekly.
Slay reached for Hillary and gave her a chaste, brotherly hug under Matteo's watchful eye.
"Stay close to him, babe," Slay said low. "He's got you."
Hillary pulled away as Matteo took her hand.
"I know," she whispered, as he led her away from the others and with decided steps, not looking back, out of the doors of The Club.
He'd be happy if she never set foot in there again.
And after tonight… shit was going to change.
* * *
Hillary hadn't said much of anything on the ride home, and he let her remain quiet. He was not going to probe, or push, or make her talk. If she wanted to talk until three in the morning, or wake him up in the middle of the night to tell him about what had happened, or if she never wanted to talk about the fucking night again, he'd be fine with it. Whatever she wanted, he would allow it. This was about her now. He'd done enough fucking this whole thing up.
And now it was time to make things better.
So it surprised him when they got to his apartment—she didn't even question that's where they were going—and he brought her upstairs, that she spun around and put both hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed at him as she looked at him and he waited tersely. What the hell?
"I shouldn't have left," she said, and she swallowed hard. He suddenly realized she was trying to be brave, to say whatever it was she needed to say. "I saw you on the monitor with Slay, and I heard the whole thing. You saved me, Matteo. But you need to know that we're through."
He nodded thoughtfully. How he would proceed now would be crucial.
"You heard what between me and Slay?" he asked. "And did it occur to you that you got spanked once for eavesdropping and I might not take too kindly to you doing it a second time?"
She'd been trained well enough that panic flashed through her pretty eyes before she nodded and lifted her chin bravely.
"That might be true if I were your submissive," she murmured. "And… you know I will forever be grateful for you saving me tonight. But I'm not going to allow you to discipline me anymore. Because I'm not… obedient to you."
He leaned back against the couch and nodded.
"And why is that?" he asked, even though it was taking all his willpower to stay calm and not get pissed off at what was going down.
Her eyes grew sad, and he marveled at her ability to have this conversation after the ordeal she'd just been through. "Because you don't love me," she whispered. "Not the way I need to be loved. You love me like a sister. Like a friend. And it doesn't work, me submitting myself to you, opening myself up like that." She drew a shaky breath. "I cannot—no, will not submit to someone who doesn't want me as his lover. It's too painful. Too hard. And I won't do it. Yes, I've fallen in love with you. You know that. And I—"
He'd heard enough. Crossing the room in two enormous strides, he lifted her up, her legs hoisted around his waist, stopping her with a hard kiss that pushed her head back as she groaned. His hands cradling her bottom, he stalked to the bathroom and flicked the light on, sitting her down by the sink as he continued to kiss her. He pulled back just long enough so that he could reach his hands to her top and pull it off, unfastening her bra as fast as his fingers would allow, stripping her clothing off and whipping it against the wall. He turned on the tub and it filled quickly as he took a washcloth from a small shelf on the wall. He lifted her and placed her in the tub, making short work of removing his jeans and t-shirt, aware that it was the first time the two of them had ever been completely bare to one another. He stepped into the tub, sat, and pulled her down onto his lap, straddling him.
"You've said your piece," he murmured. "And now you'll be quiet while I say mine."
She looked at him hesitantly, expectantly, and he saw hope bloom before him as he dipped the cloth in the warm water, drizzled it with her body wash she kept there, and stroked it along her back.
"You need tonight washed off of you," he whispered. "Every memory and touch gone, replaced by mine." Her eyes watched him as he washed her, first her back and then her neck, and as he draped the warm cloth over her breasts, her head fell back and she sighed.
"I love how strong you are," he whispered, as the warm water trickled over her breasts and he bent down and flicked a tongue over one hardened nipple. She hissed as he continued. "You're brilliant, and talented, and you make me so proud." He teased her second nipple with one hand as he drew the washcloth down to her legs and caressed. "I love how fearless you are. The strength in you when you choose to submit to my authority. Your bravery when you place yourself over my knee. You've put up with my shit and I'm sorry. I love you, Hillary."
She cried softly as he tilted her head back and scooped warm water over her scalp, massaging her fragrant honey-almond shampoo into her soft hair, careful to make sure the soapy water didn't get in her eyes, as he tenderly cleaned her and rinsed the lather away. "I love how sexy you are, how your body rises to meet mine when you come, and how you trust me to take care of you. I love how selfless you are to e
veryone around you. I love your quirky sense of humor and the cute way you wrinkle your nose." He dipped a finger between her thighs and watched as she inhaled sharply.
"I love the unreserved way you let me touch you. The way your body melts into mine when I climb into bed at night. I love the feel of your sexy little ass pressed up against my crotch." She giggled, as he continued to tease her. "I love how you eat your pizza crust first, and how you never complain when I take a sip out of your beer before I give it to you. I love that you know how to cook enchiladas, and I never told you, but I've read your books, and they're fucking awesome."
Her eyes widened and she suddenly looked up at him, panicked.
"You did not," she whispered. He chuckled.
"How else am I supposed to fulfill your fantasies, babe?"
He rinsed every bit of lather from her body, carefully touching and teasing every bit of her as he did. Standing, he lifted a large towel from the shelf, stepped out of the tub, toweled off, and cinched it around his waist. He reached for another and indicated for her to stand up. She stood, and he lifted her out of the tub, knelt in front of her and dried her while her hands rested on his shoulders. He dropped the towel and anchored himself on her bottom, kneeling in front of her while he pulled her closer and tortured her with his tongue. She moaned and he grasped her bottom to stabilize her as her hands fisted in his hair. He grinned at her, and he liked knowing she was eager for him. He stood, draping the towel over her and hoisting her into his arms.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear, as he carried her to his bedroom.
"I love you, Matteo," she said, her voice shaky and whispery.
Tomorrow he would explain himself and they would talk about how things would go from here.
Tonight, he would claim her.
Nestling her onto the bed, he stood over her, and she giggled at his obvious arousal tented under the towel.