Surprisingly, no alarms or shouts signaled his presence. Around the last corner of the hall, Monroe saw a sleeping guard posted at a double door. Monroe pulled back, inhaled and exhaled slowly several times before he struck. He had no chance to catch the body as it hit the door and then sunk to the floor. However, Monroe’s solid kick to the door’s handle happened a split second later and he was in the room as Uday rose from the bed. The gunshot was loud in the quiet house and then screams quickly followed from the woman in the same bed. Monroe was shoved back slightly by the bullet’s impact, but he didn’t feel any pain. Two knives struck Uday simultaneously. Monroe ran at the body and shoved the woman off the bed as he buried another knife deep in Uday’s chest.
The sharp pain to his leg turned his attention to the woman trying to kill him. He disarmed her and broke her neck in one flowing move. His hand went to the handle of a steak knife sticking from his leg and he pulled. Noises coming from inside the compound had him immediately racing from the room. He quickly grabbed the automatic rifle from the fallen guard as he rounded the next corner. Monroe tried doors as he ran. He entered the first unlocked door, which revealed an empty room. He stepped out far enough to open fire as soon as he heard footsteps round the corner of the hallway. He took out three additional men, but knew more were coming because he heard male voices yelling from the direction of Uday’s body. The door next to him opened and he turned, his finger on the trigger, but stopped. A woman’s petrified eyes met his. She stood frozen in the doorway. He shoved back on the door, sending her to the floor as he entered. Another woman squatted on a floor mat just as terrified as the one who went down. He brought his finger up to his lips. Both women remained quiet as he shut and locked the door behind him, casting them all into semi-darkness.
He spoke in their language. “Uday is dead and so is the woman who was in bed with him.” Gentle crying from the woman still crouched on the mat met his words. “I will kill every person here if needed. Do you understand me?”
He received one affirmative reply, but heard only the soft sobs of the other woman.
He grabbed the hair of the woman on the floor and slowly brought her to her knees.
“Do you have a small flashlight in the room?”
Her entire body trembled as she nodded.
“Show me and tell her to be quiet.”
The crying stopped immediately.
“Who are you?” Monroe asked.
Several moments passed before the woman he held responded.
“We are Uday’s wives.”
“Do you wish to live?”
“Yes.” Her body trembled more violently.
“Do you?” He asked the second woman.
Her reply came on a shaky sob, but this time she answered his question verbally.
“The flashlight now,” he commanded.
With the small glow of the flashlight, he searched one of the floor mats in the room for weapons before ordering both women to sit on it. He tore the blanket from the other mat into strips and made a pad and then bandaged his thigh, which now throbbed painfully. He folded another piece of blanket and stuffed it inside his shirt for the wound to his abdomen.
As the door was kicked in, he turned quickly and opened fire. The women began screaming, and Monroe grabbed them both and pushed them against the wall next to the now-open door. He knew Uday’s men wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.
They quieted at the same time he heard a vehicle start outside the house. No additional sounds could be heard inside the compound.
He spoke into the silent room, “My name is Monroe. Uday came after my family. He paid the price as will anyone who hurts what is mine. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” came from both of them.
“You will not leave this room for fifteen minutes.”
“Yes.”
Monroe walked out the front door with another fully loaded rifle he took off a guard he had killed earlier. Two knives remained in his possession, but he no longer needed to be silent. As far as he could tell, the remaining guards had left the compound.
So did Monroe.
The jungle again ate his presence as he began the journey to his rendezvous point. He traveled slowly due to his injuries. A fever started a few hours later, causing chills to rack his body. He passed out from exhaustion and pain twelve hours after that. He woke with bleary vision and throbbing in his leg and stomach. Finishing off the last of his water, Monroe continued his grueling quest to return home. He realized he had no hope of connecting with Labough, but two things kept Monroe heading north… the chance to see Angel one last time and kissing Zachary like he’d dreamed of doing for years.
Chapter Eighteen
Zachary
Nine days had passed since Monroe’s short appearance, and Zach was becoming worried. The first week was easy because he refused to accept that Monroe wouldn’t return to them. This evening, he met Stephens’ eyes and saw the same trepidation on the older man’s face.
Running with Angel each morning after a round of sex and spending time each evening in the playroom helped him fall into an exhausted sleep at night. But… the days were becoming unbearably long.
A little after one in the morning, his eyes instantly opened at a short chirp from his cell. One hand went to his gun while he read the message on the screen.
He’s here. I need your help. Come to the garage.
Stephens’ apartment was over the garage, but Zach wasn’t leaving Angel without being sure. He pulled on pants, walked into the hallway, and then went to his old room and dialed.
Stephens picked up immediately.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but he needs help and he’s not cooperating.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Zach practically ran from the house, his heart beating two-hundred beats per minute. He entered the garage and saw Stephens trying to hold Monroe up or possibly down. It was hard to tell.
Blood coated Monroe’s side, he was filthy, and as Zach drew closer, he smelled the general unwashed odor coming from the most fastidious person he knew.
“What the fuck, Nathanial?”
The two men turned and Zach caught his breath. Sunken, haunted eyes looked back at him. He reached Monroe as his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled sideways onto Stephens, the only thing keeping him from the hard concrete.
“He’s not in good shape, sir. Where should we take him?”
“We need to clean him first and assess his injuries, and then he’s going in the house to his own bed.”
“I believe he may need a hospital, sir.”
Zach looked into Monroe’s gaunt face. It had been only nine fucking days, but this was not the same man he saw a week and a half ago. “Let’s get him cleaned first and then we can determine what more he needs. I know you keep antibiotics on hand.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll help you carry him upstairs to my rooms.”
Zach leaned in and took Monroe’s large body into his arms. “No need. I’ve got him.”
They cut off his clothing, sponged his body, filled and emptied a large bowl of soapy water that quickly turned pinkish red several times, and finally had a look at Monroe’s injuries. He had a knife wound in his thigh, multiple bruises on his ribs and a bullet wound that appeared to have passed in and out of his lower side. Blood loss and infection would be the biggest battles. Monroe’s temperature was one hundred and three.
Stephens started an intravenous saline drip and then shot antibiotics into the line. It took them five minutes to get ibuprofen down his throat for his temperature. Monroe remained comatose through their ministrations.
“I’m wrapping him in a blanket and carrying him to his room.”
“But, sir…” Stephens tried to argue.
“It’s where he should be and I’m not keeping Angel from his side for another moment. I kept his secret for nine fucking days, but no more. Even if he dies, Angel is seeing him one last time.”
“I don’t believe he’ll die, sir. He’s too
tough for that.”
“Then carry the saline bag for me, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zach’s arms felt dead after the trip up to Stephens’ apartment, but he would get Monroe to their room even if it killed them both. He thankfully found renewed energy when he faced the stairs leading up to the room because he knew Angel was there.
She still slept, exhausted after their long day. He carried Monroe to the far side of the bed and lay him down. Stephens secured the IV bag on the tall poster of the bed.
“I will wake Marguerite and have her make broth for Master Monroe and food for the rest of us, sir,” Stephens whispered.
“Thank you. Please leave the door open and the hall light on for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zach walked around and sat on the side of the bed closest to Angel. He rolled her slightly so she faced away from Monroe. She uttered a slight moan in her sleep, but didn’t wake up. He leaned in and kissed her lips, nibbling and sucking for several moments before he finally got her attention. She tried to roll away, which made him smile. If she was fully awake she would always submit to his sexual call, no matter how tired she was.
“Emm, what time is it?” she asked sleepily.
He pulled back slightly, seeing her tired gaze in the soft light spilling from the hallway. “I think it’s nearly two.”
Her eyes opened fully. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes and no. I need you to forgive me for what I’ve kept from you over the past nine days, actually ten days…”
“Kept from me?”
“Yes. He asked me not to tell you and I didn’t.”
Her forehead creased and she shook her head slightly against the pillow. “Tell me what?”
“Here,” he joined her on the bed and gave her a brief hug. “I’m going to roll you over, but I need you to remain as still as possible.”
She had no idea what he was trying to convey and the only thing he could do was show her.
The outline of the man laying at her other side obviously startled her, because she gave a quick intake of air. Then her body began to shake.
“No, no, no. I’m dreaming. Please no.”
“Shh, I’ve got you. You’re not dreaming. He’s injured, but he found his way home.”
“Please, release my hands.”
Zach let her go. She came to her knees and he followed, staying behind her. She reached out to Monroe’s face and touched him with tentative, shaking fingers. Her other hand went to his neck.
“I’m going to turn on the light. Are you okay if I get off the bed?”
She didn’t answer.
“Angel, he’s injured. I need to make sure you don’t accidently hurt him if I leave the bed.”
Sobs worked their way out with the word, “Nn…no.”
Zach turned on the light and watched Angel cover her face as she sank carefully into Monroe’s side. He looked at the IV bag to ensure it continued to flow, and then crawled back on the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Gulping sobs shook her body.
He rubbed her side, offering comfort, but knowing she needed these tears. Zach was past being strong when it came to Monroe, and a trail of wet streaked down his face. Overwhelming relief brought all his emotions to the forefront.
Monroe seemed to sense Angel’s nearness because he shifted closer to her even when the movement obviously caused great pain. Angel’s hand went to his upper chest and she began offering murmured assurances that he was safe. Zach couldn’t understand some of her words because she spoke in the language of her childhood. Monroe’s facial features relaxed and he shifted into a deeper, healing sleep.
Time passed slowly as they both lay watching the man they loved. A small sound from the door caused him to look over his shoulder.
“Dios mío.”
Marguerite stood in the doorway with Stephens behind her.
“I’m sorry, sir. I could not keep her downstairs any longer.”
“Please come here and sit with him, Marguerite.”
She walked closer to the bed and then around the side. Stephens lifted a chair from the corner of the room and placed it by the bed. She took Monroe’s hand and held it in a careful grip, mindful of his IV.
“Will Señor be okay?”
Zach answered, “If we can keep his temperature down, he should be. We couldn’t find any broken bones, though he’s bruised from head to toe. He has a bullet wound in his side and a stab wound in his thigh. We’ll know more in the next twenty-four hours. If he worsens, he’s going to the hospital by way of an ambulance.”
Angel continued to cry and slight shudders periodically shook her body. Marguerite uttered, “Dios mío” every few minutes, but mostly the four of them stood vigil. Marguerite eventually went downstairs and then brought up a tray of finger sandwiches before taking her chair again. They changed out the bag of fluids, gave him more antibiotics, and waited.
The morning sun had just started peeking through the window coverings when Monroe opened his eyes. He looked around and then let out a long, shuddering breath. Angel began crying again and his free hand, uninhibited by the IV, reached out and pulled her close.
Marguerite stubbornly placed a quick kiss on his cheek, gave him an affectionate look, and then walked to the door, followed by Stephens.
“You will be better soon, el invalid,” she turned and said.
Monroe didn’t take his eyes from Angel as he gave a weary nod.
Chapter Nineteen
Angel
She held onto Master tightly. After repeated nightmares that ended in his death, she had trouble believing he was real. He usually disliked touch, but when she tried to take her hand away, he grumbled low in his chest and didn’t settle until her hand covered his heart again.
“I love you. Don’t leave me again,” she repeated the few times his eyes opened.
Mostly she watched him sleep.
The bed dipped and Sir moved in with his chest against her back. He kissed her shoulder and neck while threading his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, Angel.”
She didn’t take her eyes from Master. “This is truly real?” Even she could hear the doubt in her voice.
“This,” he pressed in closer and kissed her tear-streaked skin, “Is incredibly real.”
Angel feathered her hand across Master’s skin. It seemed slightly cooler than earlier, but she wasn’t letting go.
“How?” she asked without turning.
Sir’s breath was warm against the curve of her shoulder. “I don’t know the full story but he came to the house when the intruders broke in. He helped stop them and saved my life. It’s a knack he has when it comes to the two of us.”
Angel could hear the smile in his words before he grew serious again.
“His assignment wasn’t complete and he didn’t want you to grieve again if he didn’t return.”
She couldn’t form a coherent sentence because too many thoughts swirled through her head. To take away her chance to see Master a final time was unconscionable. She’d dreamed of one more kiss, a last goodbye, and to say she loved him just once more.
Sir stopped speaking, but continued to hold her, and he eventually fell into a light sleep. She was afraid to close her eyes and wake from this dream, so she thought about her commitment to Master.
He had found her after the death of her roommate, Ifrah. He gave her no chance to protest moving to his house. She was deep in the confines of depression, and with little trouble he drugged her and took her home. The first days were terrifying but her night terrors finally brought her to rely on Master. His calming breaths created a bond. She hid, shied away from all physical contact, and behaved like a scared rabbit. Master gave her space and showed endless patience.
He also gave her a bedroom with pictures of the man who had rescued her from human traffickers. Zachary, bound tightly in intricate weaves of beautiful creations, never looked enslaved. The photographs mesmerized her, opening her eyes to a different world
and culture. His sculpted muscles wrapped tightly around female models with intricate designs told a story. The art was shocking, but also intriguing. She envied the models in the photographs with him.
She caught glimpses of the models that came to the house for Master’s art. Their calm demeanor and obvious worship made her curious. She watched from a corner in the large studio, resting on a soft blanket, trying to go unnoticed. Soft classical music lulled her and she’d drift into the knots and intricate ties that only accented the beauty of the women he worked with.
Her first husband demanded the respect that these women gave to Master willingly. But, like the wives of her husband, they waited for a smile, word of praise, or endearment. For some reason that she couldn’t comprehend, Angel felt comfortable in this world.
The sensual aspect of his art was a bigger adjustment, but for the first time in months her body throbbed with sexual cravings. She knew Master watched her closely, and when he asked if she would like to have her hands bound, she shook her head, retreating further into the corner.
He walked over and crouched down so their eyes were level. “Marguerite was my first model. I would tie her arms in different patterns and then we would share milk and cookies. You may want to come closer when you watch so you can actually see the threads of the rope.” While he spoke, he lifted a piece of her hair and caressed it between his fingers.
The thought of the plump, middle-aged Marguerite being his first model made her smile. His lips curved up and he winked before walking back to his work in progress.
Over the next few days, she inched closer. The women gave her encouraging smiles with no shyness about their nudity. Master often removed his shirt and she fantasized about running her hands over the sculpted plains of his chest. She managed to fight her desire until she noticed Master’s pants balloon with an erection. She squirmed, the dampness of her panties making it hard for her to concentrate. He continued working the rope, but suddenly his intense gaze landed on her and an electrifying quiver went from her toes straight to her pussy. She inhaled when he looked away, realizing she’d been holding her breath. The stark look of longing on his face was a mirror of what he had to see on hers.
Caught By Two Doms (Club El Diablo (Angel's Doms Book 2)) Page 8