by Maren Smith
"The Island's gain is our loss," Dominick said sincerely.
Snorting, Cecil gave him a knowing look. "Ten minutes ago, you thought I was full of shit. Yesterday, admit it, you took one look at me and thought someone in personnel was a complete boob for hiring me."
Dominick took a breath, but a hot flush of shame stopped him. To protest would be to lie, because truthfully, he had judged Cecil—and judged him quite harshly—by everything, from his underrated name to his juvenile physique. But then, every guest who came here would do the same. It might not be fair, but it was a fact of life, and it wasn't one that should be sugarcoated now simply to save someone else's feelings.
"I know what I look like," Cecil said, half smiling and half snorting again. "I'm not six-foot-whatever with muscles on top of muscles." He waved a hand at Dominick. "But I have a skill, and it's one most of the Doms here don't. I can throw. I can teach them to throw. When the Island opens its doors for business, twice a week for two hours at a stretch, I'll be teaching guests how to throw. The rest of the time I'll be in my shop, making whips and helping anyone who wants to learn how to make them, too." He offered one last half-hearted shrug. "I like the temperature here. Not too hot, never gets too cold. I like the weather. Once in a while we might have to worry about hurricanes, but at least no one here treats me like I'm going to hurt their kids."
Again, Dominick felt a rush of hot shame. Taking his whip back, he patted Cecil on the shoulder. "Thank you, Master C."
Eyebrow arching, Cecil blinked at him. "For what?"
The much-needed trim back down to size.
Saying that, however, stuck in Dominick's craw. He held up his whip instead. "For the beautiful craftsmanship. And for showing me that there is at least one real Master on this island apart from myself." That, right there, was as sappy as he intended to let himself get. He took a giant step back out of the emotional situation, announcing to the room at large, "And for setting up classes. The sooner, the better. If they're smart, everyone in this room will sign up for lessons from this man." He swept the sea of stunned faces now staring at Cecil with a stern look. "The end of the week is coming, ladies and gentlemen. Nobody has any excuse now for not hitting their target, not when you've got Leatherman C on staff. And Cec, my man," Dominick pointed at him, "contact lenses. Contact lenses go a long way."
Cecil grinned. It was probably a trick of Dominick's imagination, but for a second there, he didn't look quite so scrawny.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sign hanging above the main gate named the town 'Fleetwater'. Both it and the gate looked very authentic, right down to the square nails used in every wall and floorboard he trod upon in his search for Maddy. She'd been wearing her camera the last time he saw her, catching little more than a glimpse of curvy hips and blushing cheeks through the second-story window of the conference room. That had been hours ago; she could be anywhere by now. And so, Dominick let his methodical nature get its exercise. Starting at the wharf, he searched the town, street by street, building by building. The longer it took, however, the more apparent it became just how ill-prepared Rita was to be in business.
Although not scheduled to open its doors for another month, there was so much left undone. Walking amongst fifty or so unfinished, unnamed and, in many cases, unfurnished buildings, it began to feel less like a town and more like he was touring a film set.
"The heavy construction work is being finished over on Pirate Cove," a female landscaper told him when he paused at her garden wall to ask. "As soon as they're done there, then Rita will move them back here. You'll be surprised how fast things come together once that deadline starts looming."
That wasn't quite how Dominick remembered it happening back when he'd been the one eyebrows deep in the struggle to get everything done on time. Other than vague impressions and feelings of resurrected frustration, however, he couldn't recall any specific catastrophes from that entire month before the Castle's grand opening. It was hard to imagine it looking like this, though.
Striving for optimism, he toured himself through the soldier's garrisons, the watch towers, and even patrolled the walkways high above the walls, which gave him an excellent view of the garden grounds, the jungles on the other side of the walls, and vast sections of the near empty streets all the way up to the governor's manor. He spotted a serving wench pushing a dolly stacked with boxes up the hill from one tavern to the next, but no pretty blonde fucktoy in a glittering blue dress.
"Pudgy girl?" a carpenter at the jail asked, wiping the sweat from his brow while he thought. "Yeah, I saw her… what, two hours ago? She was taking pictures of the torture chamber under the cells."
They'd seen her at the gift shops, too, the governor's house, and she'd stopped to hand nails to a man tacking down roof shingles in a daily marketplace that was already lined with empty stalls and booths for local fruit and fish vendors and which would, in actuality, be far more likely to hock souvenirs. Hers was a leisurely trail and Dominick followed it from one would-be colonist's house to the next, into shops for tradesmen not yet employed by the resort, and finally into the taverns. Most were just as closed as all the other buildings. Only one had been opened, providing the practice guests with a taste of what this place might be like when everything was operational.
And what a taste it was. The shouts and laughter drew Dominick up the cobblestone street from the moment he turned the corner. Raucous music blared through the open doorway. Men and woman in full costume—both soldiers and civilians, long skirts and petticoats, aprons and mobcaps, white tights and pantaloons, and long-tailed dress coats and feather plumbed caps took him straight back to that film set feeling again. It was an odd thrill, having a silk-stockinged gentleman tip his tricorn hat as they passed one another. Nor was he immune to the flirtatious smile of the lovely redhead washing underthings in the tavern's corner rain barrel. The bounty of her breasts nearly overwhelmed her corset's ability to contain them each time she bent over her work, arms pressed in to make their bounce that much more pronounced as she scrubbed. Dominick winked to let her know he'd noticed and hopped the two porch steps, his boots tromping across the floorboards as he headed inside.
Still no Maddy. He was running out of places to look.
"Welcome to the Cock 'n Comb," the wench behind the bar called out, pouring pints for two seemingly inebriated soldiers. She grinned when Dominick headed toward her. "What can I get you, luv?"
"Is that real alcohol?" He peered over the bar to check the contents of each wooden tankard.
"Coke," she confirmed, tipping her head to the older of the two soldiers. "Diet for his missus."
Both soldiers dropped their drunken act: the first laughed; the second, didn't.
"Sally," he growled, "I swear to God, you call me his missus one more time…"
"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist," she said, strutting back to thunk the tankards in front of them both. "Being sassy's in me job description."
"Spanking people is in mine," he replied, his tone all but daring her to keep arguing.
The warning took. Backing down, Sally propped her elbows on the bar across from Dominick and offered a healthy glimpse of her cleavage. "What can I get you, sugar?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"Ooh!" She leaned closer and propped her chin in her hand. Her eyes sparkled as she teased, "Not that I couldn't be anyone you wanted me to, but what does your particular someone look like?"
"This high," he said and held his hand up to his chest. "Shoulder-length blonde hair…"
"Chunky Monkey?" Sally asked, then laughed again. "The girl with the camera? You don't like her either, eh?"
Dominick stilled. "Chunky Monkey?"
"That's what the other lady kept calling her." Sally tsked, rolling her eyes. "She must've been a real pain on the voyage over. You're the second person to come in here complaining about her."
"Let me guess." Something in his expression must have told Sally he was not amused because her smile faded into t
he slightest glimmer of confusion. "Was the original complainer an attractive, stuck-up, rich bitch about this high?" Barely concealing his annoyance, Dominick adjusted his hand a few inches higher than he had for Maddy.
"Well… I don't know about the rich part, but she was quite pretty," Sally hedged, looking from him to the two quietly watching soldiers.
"What else did she say?"
"Only that the other lady was mean and she wanted to play a little prank on her."
"What kind of prank?"
His look must have darkened further because Sally slipped a step back, retreating from both him and the bar. Her fingers twisted in the excess folds of her apron. "Well, uh… sh-she wanted some of us to lure Chunky Mon—"
"Call her that again and I'll have your job within the hour," Dominick growled.
Sally started, her eyes growing wide.
"Did you do it?" Dominick demanded, more than a little amazed that he sounded this calm. "Did you help one guest harm another?"
"I-I… I…"
"Hold up, now." The older of the two soldiers held up a staying hand, protectively coming to stand between Sally and Dominick.
"Get Security and your boss on the phone right now," Dominick ordered, then turned on hapless Sally once more. "Where is she?"
"M-mermaid Grotto," she whispered, blinking fast as if to stave off tears.
Both soldiers reacted with appall.
"Jesus, Sally," the younger said.
"It wasn't my idea!" she cried back. "Lisa came up with it!"
"Came up with what?"
"There's a prisoner pillory down there," the older soldier supplied. "It's for the hardcores."
"Hardcores," Dominick echoed, his gut tightening first with anger and then very real flashes of icy concern.
"Pain sluts," the younger explained, frowning at Sally. "It's not supposed to be used except by experienced Masters, two of which have to be present at all times, along with a medic! A medic, Sally!"
"We weren't going to hurt her!" Sally protested, blinking harder and faster now, though not enough to keep back frightened tears. Her bottom lip wobbled as she chewed it. "We just wanted to scare her. Because she was so mean! If you knew half of what she's done to the others—"
Dominick slapped his hand flat on the bar, silencing Sally with a jump and squeak. She stared at him, eyes huge, with fat tears hovering at the edges of her lashes. "You just helped one customer bully another."
She shook her head. "B-b-but we don't have customers yet. This is just a practice run."
"For the purposes of this practice run," Dominick emphasized, "you just helped one customer bully another. This is supposed to be a safe place, somewhere people can explore their kinky side. Your job is to fulfill that desire, but also to watch out for their wellbeing! That means you report bullying behavior. You do not join in on it!"
"I'm so s-sor—"
Dominick hit the bar harder than before, making her jump all over again and sending the first of her tears spilling free. "Change your clothes. Clean out your locker. Everyone who helped you and Tessa lure—" Sally flinched at the way he said it, "Maddy to the Grotto, tell them to clean out their lockers, too. I want all of you sitting in the employee conference room by the time I get there. While you wait, start thinking real carefully about what you're going to say when I get there, because that just might be the difference between my firing your asses and sending you back to the mainland in police custody!" Shoving away from Sally, he faced the two soldiers. "Where is Mermaid's Grotto?"
"Right this way." The younger of the two soldiers jumped to take the lead as all three left the tavern. They hurried up the road, Dominick fighting hard not to outpace the other two, since he didn't know where he was going. They took him up the hill toward the back of town. At first he thought the governor's mansion might be their destination, but just as the last few buildings of town began to thin into sprawling gardens, they ducked into an alley marked 'Employees Only'. The alley ended on a wrought iron gate guarded by a sign that read 'No Admittance'. The gate was standing wide open.
"Why isn't this locked?" Dominick demanded.
"Usually it is."
The cobblestones ended on a narrow dirt road overlooking a huge expanse of Island jungle. Through the palm trees, he glimpsed blue ocean waves crested with white froth, rushing in past a cluster of reef-covered rocks that stood sentry at the mouth of a semi-secluded bay.
It was at least a mile away, with a lot of open jungle standing between it and Dominick.
"Is that it?" he asked, his anger at Tessa, Sally, the unknown girls who thought something so mean and stupid could ever be okay, at last giving way to a few fragile threads of concern. Was Maddy already down there? What had she been thinking, and why would she follow anyone out of the resort?
Maybe Tessa hadn't been with her when the deception started, his subconscious whispered back. And why wouldn't Maddy go with them? They were employees of the resort. The whole point of her being here was so they could show her what they had to offer. Who under such circumstances would refuse when an offer was made to show her something unique, something worth taking a picture of for the article she was trying to write for them? Even if Tessa had been there, what reason would Maddy have had not to go with them? No reason, his angry mind supplied. No reason at all.
When they set off down that path, within steps, he broke into a jog. If not for the worry beginning to nip in at his heels, he'd have enjoyed the exercise. How far ahead of him was she? Had they reached the beach yet? Were they all the way to the Grotto, and what kind of prank did Tessa have in mind? His boots pounded the dirt, the quickening cadence mixing with the pounding of innumerable what-ifs and the pulse of anger in his ears. He didn't mean to, but concern pushed him and before he knew it, he'd not just taken the lead, but he was well ahead of the two men. Had he known the island better, he'd have cut straight through the woods. And probably gotten lost, but if there was a chance of reaching Maddy just a little faster…
The whine of a motorized golf cart came speeding down the road behind him. Emil slowed as he passed Dominick, the two soldiers red-faced and panting on the rear bench. Dominick jumped into the front passenger seat without waiting for an invitation.
"Hang on," Emil said and floored it—a romping twelve miles an hour (if that), but it was faster than Dominick could run, particularly once he reached the beach.
"Hurry." Was his mind playing tricks on him or was that really screaming he could hear above the roll of the surf slapping against the rocks and washing up the beach? "Faster, damn it!"
"It won't do anyone any good if we roll," Emil replied, his tone even, though his expression remained tight and reserved.
Grabbing onto both seat and dash, Dominick ducked as they took a bend in the road too recklessly for the golf cart. They nearly left the road. Plants fronds slapped at him but he held on, ignoring the switch-like stinging that bit his arm and neck.
"Ow," muttered the younger of the two soldiers.
Emil glanced at him in the rearview mirror, but did not slow down. "Watch your heads."
Dominick could see the beach through the brush and trees now. As they sped their way to the next winding curve, he spotted a gaggle of three giggling tavern wenches and Tessa walking back up the hill. The giggling stopped when the women spotted Emil and the cart, all except Tessa, who smirked.
That smirk cut nearly every tether Dominick had on his anger. "Get your asses back to town!" he roared as they rolled by. Tessa waved, a one-fingered salute from each hand. He made a mental note to find out how much, if anything, her husband had invested in the Castle, but it didn't matter. She had one hell of a surprise coming the next time she tried to book their next visit. In fact, she'd be damned lucky if she didn't have one hell of a surprise coming when he got back to the Colony.
Two more winding curves and suddenly the road leveled out, becoming more sand than dirt. At last they broke through the trees, popping out onto the beach and into bright sunlight
once more. Losing traction in the sand, Emil slowed, but not by much. The beach grew narrower, punctuated by great jutting rocks that still stood strong against a lifetime of abuse by the relentless tide. Great cliffs abutted the sand, green twists of plant life clinging to any ledge wide enough to support their growth, the upper crown overgrown with the wind-swept roots of stubborn jungle trees. More than one beach-level cave cut the rocks and beckoned for exploration, but Emil didn't stop near any of them. He continued on, driving toward the farthest end of the beach, where a massive stone archway linked the island cliffs to an outcrop of reef rocks. A four-story building could have fit comfortably in the yawning maw of the cave beyond.
Rolling ocean waves swept into the shadows, following the narrow cut of earth inside. Only a thin stretch of rocky beach allowed for investigation, and only while the tide was low enough. The ground was simply too uneven to drive the cart inside, so Emil parked as close as he could get and the four men jumped out.
"How far back does this go?" Dominick asked, taking the flashlight Emil dug out from a box under his seat.
"Far enough," Emil replied.
Already the tide was coming back in. The crashing rhythm of the waves, rushing in to slap the rocks, was deafening, but even with that to contend with, this time they were close enough that there was no mistaking Maddy's scream.
"Wait!" Emil shouted, but Dominick charged ahead. Time and rain had cut sporadic holes in the high stone ceiling, allowing just enough trickles of sunlight as to make the flashlights unnecessary. He had to hop rocks, running along a high cropped ledge that rose above the churning water of deep-carved tidal pools. One wrong step and it would have meant broken bones at best and, at worst, a drowning death in the tidal vortex below. There wasn't even a safety rail.