by Becky McGraw
Dex drew several more labored breaths, wheezes really, into his tight chest through his constricted airway and came to terms with the fact he was going to jail tonight.
In wet chaps and a thong.
There was no fucking way he was calling Logan to bail him out and compound his humiliation either, so he’d probably be behind bars for quite some time.
Another patrol car stopped beside the first, and before a minute passed, the wagons were circled and Dex was in the center. An officer shouted for him to roll down his window and stick his hands out, so that’s exactly what he did.
Three seconds later, he was flat on his stomach on the asphalt road, held there by a not-so-gentle knee at the center of his back and a hand on his neck. One arm was jerked up between his shoulder blades and he ground his teeth as a cuff was ratcheted tight around his wrist. The other wrist followed before he was roughly jerked up to his feet. The officer walked him to the front of the limo and forced him to lean over the hood.
“I’d ask if you had ID,” the officer said with a nasty snigger as he ran his hands up Dex’s legs, felt along his crotch and over his hips. “But as tight as those pants are, I’d say there’s no room for a wallet.”
“My wallet is in the fw--fwront seat in the bag wift my jeans,” Dex growled, his tongue feeling like it filled his entire mouth.
The man pulled him upright and he was blinded by the headlights. For some reason his eyes burned like hell, and that light felt like a knife piercing through his skull.
Grace walked around the front of the car with an officer and they stopped beside him. Without a word, the man shoved his beefy fingers between the Dex’s jaw and the mask. A ripping sound, which was in perfect harmony with the feeling of his skin being ripped off, made him howl as the officer peeled the mask off like a band-aid. Throbbing pain like he’d never experienced before almost forced him to his knees.
When the cop stepped away, Grace appeared in front of him, lifted his chin with her forefinger and gasped loudly. It had to be loud because he heard it over the bass drum of his heart in his ears.
“Oh my, God,” she shouted, her hand going up to cover her mouth. Dex’s eyes dropped to hers and her face went white.
His chest constricted more to where he couldn’t draw a decent breath. Grace stepped closer to run her fingers up his cheeks, trail them over his eyes which felt almost swollen shut, before he was blinded again by a flashlight. She tipped his chin down then tiptoed to look inside his mouth.
“We have to get him to the hospital now! He must have an allergy to latex and he could go into anaphylaxis and die if we don’t hurry!”
Latex? Dex’s heart stopped.
He was allergic to latex! He found that out at fifteen when he used his first condom, or tried it on, like any curious, horny teenager. His curiosity didn’t lead to sex though, it led him to the emergency room for a night he wouldn’t ever forget. It looked like he was about to have another one of those nights.
Why hadn’t he read that label on that mask?
Because it felt like fake leather or plastic. No fucking wonder his tongue felt so thick, his breathing was so labored. It wasn’t just adrenaline and nerves making him lightheaded.
Oh God he couldn’t breathe.
No, he couldn’t pass out. Dex fought against the pull of blissful unconsciousness, a place where his face wouldn’t feel like it had been dipped in acid. But black dots danced in front of his eyes in the headlights, his head swam and he felt his knees buckle.
God, please don’t let her call my family. I’ll never live this down.
CHAPTER SIX
Grace squirmed in the uncomfortable yellow plastic chair, which she’d pulled up to Brennan Lowell’s bedside. With every movement, she was reminded of the two brutal and prolonged spankings she’d endured from Master Tim yesterday, one in the limo and the worst once he got her into the hotel room.
She lifted her butt to pull the scrub pants away from her tender skin, then tried to settle on a spot on the side of her hip that wasn’t sore. The second one came because she’d been stupid enough to allow him to con her into handcuffs after the first one.
In her defense, she’d been pretty out of it by the time he carried her into the room, and he seemed in a better mood, or pretended to be, when he apologized then sweet talked her into signing the contract with promises not to lose his temper again. He also told her he would allow her to write in her hard limits after their practice session for the scene last night.
His practice involved two hours of ruthless beating, first with his hand and then with a broad paddle until she almost passed out. By the time he dragged her down to the munch, she was too incoherent to even know where she was, much less fight him. The sight of the four shackles on the St. Andrews cross in the middle of the room, and the whip and other implements on the table beside it, brought her back to reality fast when he ordered her to strip.
Even though she’d given herself a crash course on BDSM before she came here, nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it—the brutality. From what she’d read, though, what Master Tim did to her went way beyond what was normal for those who participate in that lifestyle. The man was just violent and evil, which did not bode well for her sister’s present condition, having been subjected to the man for over a month now.
The question was, how in the world had her sister gotten wrapped up in it? Did she enjoy that kind of physical torment? Or was she just that desperate to get an acting job at the studio operated by Master Tim that she didn’t care that it was a BDSM porn studio? Did Marcy care so little about herself, her safety or her daughter now, have so little self-esteem? Those were questions she would only get answers to when she found her errant sister.
One thing was for sure, Grace couldn’t go back to that resort.
Not even to find her sister.
Although in the heat of the moment, she’d insisted on staying with Tim last night, once her head cleared of all the adrenaline, endorphins and fear produced by his abuse, she knew she was in way over her head and was glad to be out of there. It had been stupid of her to think she could do this alone—or at all.
Even the police officer she’d explained her situation to last night told her she was out of her mind for going there.
You’re very fortunate to be out of there, Dr. Wentworth. The Silver Chains Resort is a dangerous place for you to snoop around. Since your sister is an adult, and probably signed one of his contracts, I’m afraid we can’t help you. Your best bet is to hire someone to help you find your sister.
Grace’s eyes fell on the handsome, but ravaged face of the man sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. The man she’d had a two year sexual relationship with in college, but obviously knew nothing about.
Her brain still couldn’t process what in the world he could’ve been doing there at that resort. Was Brennan Lowell into that lifestyle now and just happened to see her there? Or was he one of them?
She knew there wasn’t a casual way to accidentally wander into that resort on the outskirts of Vegas, so he had to be there intentionally. Sickness boiled in her stomach at the thought of him being involved in that kind of activity in any way.
During their relationship that wasn’t really a relationship, he’d never been rough with her, or asked her to be rough with him. They’d had hot and vigorous sex from time to time during their study sessions, exceptionally hot, but it never involved pain.
He couldn’t be one of them, because Master Tim is the boss there and he punched him in the face for you, stole you away from him.
His being at that resort just didn’t make sense, and his having a name other than Brennan Lowell on his driver’s license made even less sense.
Their family was a prominent one in Boston. His mother was well-liked and appreciated in charity circles, his father was a leader in one of the secret mason groups. Theirs was a well-respected family, more so than her own even, because of her mother’s personality. So why was he using an alias? Perhaps he was u
sing an alias so his family never found out about his nocturnal activities.
Grace sighed loudly, and Brennan stirred.
“Where the hell am I?” Brennan demanded in a hoarse rasp as he sat up straight in the bed to glare at her.
The cuffs on his wrists, which were attached to the bed rail, stopped him short and he frowned at them. He jerked the chains violently and his face paled, before his eyes flew to hers and his eyebrows crashed together in a fierce scowl.
“Unlock me, Grace—this is not fucking funny!”
Grace just raised an eyebrow and shook her head, waiting for him to remember. It took a minute, but she knew when the light went off because his fists balled and he groaned as he slammed his head back against the pillow.
“I’m under arrest?” he asked, with a deep shuddering sigh, as he slammed his eyes shut.
“After a kidnapping, an assault and stealing a limousine? Of course you’re under arrest,” she replied with a harsh laugh. “What in the hell were you thinking, Dexter Buchanan?” she asked, the name tasting bitter on her tongue.
She’d always thought his name, Brennan, was as sexy as the rest of him. This man was the smartest guy she’d ever met in her life. But right now she thought he was just about the dumbest too. She folded her arms over her chest.
“Don’t get wound up, Grace. That isn’t something I can talk about,” he replied with a groan.
The richness of his voice mixed with the groan and the sound rumbled through her perking up long dormant synapses. Grace disconnected them and focused on the present.
“Well, when the police asked if I knew you, I gave them your real name. I also called your parents,” she informed.
The flush quickly faded from his face, and he vaulted up in the bed again rattling the restraints. “Why in the hell would you do that?!?” he shouted.
Grace shrugged. “You were very ill and I didn’t know who else to call. They are your next of kin. I’m sure you’ll need someone to bail you out, too. Your mother is sending your brother to take care of that as soon as they arrest you. Fortunately, he’s at a local base for training, so I’m sure you won’t spend too long behind bars.”
Thank God one of the officers last night had an Epi-Pen, otherwise the call she made to his family might have been very different. She sucked in a sharp breath to fight the burn in her eyes. She was also thankful she was able to convince the police and the ER doctor to allow her to stay with him in his room until he woke up, so she could monitor him.
With another loud groan, Brennan plopped back on the bed. “No good deed goes unpunished.” He squeezed his eyes shut and his lips tightened. “Do you know what they did with my cell phone? It was in the bag with my jeans.”
Her eyes glided down his body to where the sheet started at his waist. Where in the world had all those delicious muscles come from? Brennan Lowell had always been good looking, but wiry. The only thing wiry about him now was the sexy scruff on his face. Her palms itched to feel those ripples on his stomach and that scruff, but she closed her eyes and dug her nails into her palms.
“I put the bag on the gurney when they wheeled you into the hospital, so I guess it’s in the closet, or the police may have it,” she replied with a shrug.
“Could you find it for me, please?” he asked, opening his eyes. “I need to call my parents and tell them I’m fine.”
Grace rose and walked toward the closet, opened the door but found nothing inside. “Not in here,” she said, turning back to find him staring at her ass.
“Check the beside table,” he suggested, averting his eyes.
Her eyebrow lifted as she walked to the side table, but she fanned her flushed face when she bent down to open the bottom drawer. That intense look on his face, even swollen and blistered, evidently still had that effect on her.
“Why in the world should I help you?” she asked as she opened the top drawer. “You kidnapped me and messed up everything last night. Now, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“No—I put myself at great risk to help you last night and that’s why I’m in this situation,” he replied. “What do you mean you don’t know what you’ll do? You’ll stay away from that damned resort and haul your pretty ass back to Boston where you belong!”
Grace ignored him and opened top drawer, but found only a yellow plastic urinal, a bed pan and a box of tissues, so she slammed it shut, then knelt to grab the handle on the lower drawer.
“What in the hell were you doing at that place, Grace?” he demanded, and she felt his eyes burning the side of her face. “That bastard could’ve hurt you badly.”
Grace knew he was right, but she wasn’t going to discuss it with him. Some things were just too embarrassing.
“Why did you change your name, Brennan?” she deflected, and he growled.
Brennan’s family knew hers, but he didn’t know her older sister well. Telling him she was here to save her from being a porn actress was humiliating, to say the least. That was family business, not something she wanted getting back to the Boston Socialite Express.
If her mother’s friends found out, she would be disgraced and would not be happy. Her parents had suffered enough embarrassment during Marcy’s teenage years. As many times as her mother said it, and Grace denied it, she could almost agree that her father’s early death from a heart attack was from the stress of dealing with her sister’s wild ways.
Dex watched Grace open the drawer, and flinched when she pulled out the black bag with the silver logo on the side. She yanked open the drawstring to rifle through the contents, and held the stiff, black chaps between her fingers to inspect them. She set them aside and extracted the equally stiff G-string and cast him a sly grin as she twirled it around her finger.
“Stop with the bullshit, Grace—find my phone!” he shouted, and her movements slowed.
“There’s a way to ask me to do something that will ensure I comply, and that’s not it,” she said calmly, as she pulled out his bright green t-shirt and held it up to study the graphic on the front. “Nice, and quite nerd-appropriate,” she teased, and Dex growled.
“You’ve obviously been around that damned Dom too long, Grace,” he grumbled, gritting his teeth. One minute was too long. Dex gathered his patience, tried to even his tone as frustration boiled inside of him. “Please hurry up!”
She quickly put aside his jeans to reach down to the bottom of the bag, and he sighed his relief when she finally held up his phone. After stuffing everything back inside the drawer, she stood and held it out to him.
He’d call his parents to call off the dog that was his brother, but his first call would be to Hawkins. Dex trusted the former Army Nightstalker spec ops pilot to help him without blasting his situation to everyone in the company. He was one of Dexter’s best friends next to Grayson and he knew Hawk could not only bail him out, he could fly him home, which is where he was headed as soon as he was released.
This fiasco was a lesson that he should’ve just minded his own damned business.
Dex reached for the phone, but the chains held him back and he growled. “I can’t hold it,” he said with an eye roll.” For a smart woman, Grace sure wasn’t acting it. Or was she just still fucking with him? He’d had about enough of that. “Grab my thumb and press it to the button then hit five on speed dial,” he demanded.
Grace grabbed his hand, pressed his thumb to the button and dialed but she didn’t give him the phone. Instead, when he grabbed for it, she stepped back to hold it to her ear while it rang. “Put the damned phone to my ear, Grace!” Dex grated, sitting up in the bed as much as he could to glare at her.
“Oh, hello there,” she said with a smug smile. His fists curled, making the cuffs dig deeper into his skin. “This is Dr. Grace Wentworth, who am I speaking to, please?”
The satisfied and determined look on her beautiful face told him she wasn’t going to give him the phone. She was going to tell Hawk whatever the hell she pleased, and there was nothing Dex could do to stop her.
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“Give me the phone, Grace!” he snarled, then yanked on the chains and growled his frustration. “Hawk, tell her to give me the damned phone—I need to talk to you!”
“Yes, I know this is Dex’s phone, Mr. Hawkins, but he’s a little tied up at the moment.” The purr in her tone, and her soft chuckle irritated him. “No, I’m not the one who tied him up, the Clark County Sheriff’s Office gets credit for that.”
Frustration built to epic proportions inside of Dex while he listened to her banter with Hawk as if she had all freaking day.
“I’d imagine you can find him at the Clark County lockup in a couple of hours, but be sure to bring plenty of bail money. This isn’t a drunk and disorderly or jaywalking charge.”
“No, it’s not and it’s all her damned fault! Just get here, Hawkins!” Dex shouted. She held the phone away from her ear and he heard Hawk’s laughter. The door of the hospital room flew back on its hinges and a big, bulky uniformed cop filled the doorway with his hand on the butt of his pistol.
“Oh, and Hawk?” Grace said, her smile fading as her eyes locked with his. “Be sure to ask for Dex Buchanan at the lockup because that’s his alias, if you didn’t know.” She disconnected the call without letting him talk to Hawk, and Dex groaned.
How in the hell was he going to talk his way out of this one?
Nobody at Deep Six knew his real name wasn’t Dex Buchanan…including Logan.
All he could hope for was that Hawk didn’t believe her, thought maybe she was a kooky hooker he’d picked up or something. That’s exactly what he planned on telling him. Without some quick thinking, and believable explanations, his whole life could implode.
Because he just couldn’t mind his own business.
“Who’s Logan?” Grace asked turning back toward him.
“My boss, why?” Dex asked, his teeth clenching.
“Hawk is calling him to get bail money before he heads over here. You’re fortunate to have such good friends,” Grace replied.
“He’s going to need every one of them too,” the officer grumbled, as he pinned Dex with a glare. “I’ll get the nurse to help you get dressed so we can take you downtown.”