by Dace Everan
Layle met his gaze and nodded. She bit her lower lip between her teeth and questioned her sanity for the hundredth time. She held up two fingers before he even left her side, a shiver of fear skittering through her.
Laird crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her. He gave a slight nod, letting her know he saw her fingers. He didn’t make a move. His Mekaila needed to know she was in control here. Not him.
Layle teared up as he stood there waiting patiently as she regathered her bearings. She let the tears slide down her cheeks, chains rattling as she reached to wipe the liquid trails from her face.
Laird reached out, cupping her face, her thumbs brushing them away. “Mekaila…I will never hurt you.”
Layle closed her eyes, giving a little nod. She knew that, she just couldn’t get past this fear.
“Look at me, Mekaila…Nothing happens tonight, but I do want you to face something…can you do that for me? Just face one fear for me?” If she could face this fear, perhaps the two of them could go further. Perhaps he could have her all to himself. Screw his rules of nothing under thirty. Mekaila was meant for him, and he knew it.
Layle looked into his dark eyes, deep and pleading. More tears rolled, and his thumbs gently brushed them away. She gave a thumbs-up.
Laird placed a soft kiss on her forehead and pecked the tip of her nose, and finally across her lips. “One step at a time, Mekaila, and remember, I am here for you.” Layle nodded. Laird stepped away from her, hopping from the bed and crossing the room to the table.
Layle watched as he opened a large, thick suitcase. Her breath caught at the sight of the whip and the ball gag, and her heart accelerated at the sight of the mask. A zipper over the mouth piece. She shuddered at the atrocity. She shook her head and had three fingers up. The chains rattling as she struggled.
Laird glanced over his shoulder. He placed the ball gag to the side and zipped the case back up. He crossed back to Layle. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. “Easy, Mekaila…slow down your breathing,” he coaxed.
Layle turned, wild eyes on him, and she shook her head. “I want down now!” she mumbled, her gaze darting back to the case. “You never said you wore those…those. Oh God, I should have stayed home!”
Laird cupped her face, making her look at him. “I’m here, Mekaila…Look at me, you see me?” Layle turned horror-filled eyes to him, her nostrils flaring. “That’s it, sweetheart, easy in and out. It’s me…I’m here, right here in front of you.” Layle calmed her breathing, and her body eased against him. Laird nodded. “I’m going to grab the gag…”
Layle shook her head. “No! I want down now.”
Chapter Nine
Laird considered her for a moment. He should have hidden the mask. She needed to know what he was about, though. She needed to know he wore them, that it was a part of who he was. He reached up and released her.
Layle stepped back away from him only to have him pull her into his arms. “You should have told me you wore those!” she sobbed, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Terror hammering her.
Laird hugged her close, lowering to his knees.
Laird laid soft kisses in her hair. “Mekaila…We all have our kinks.”
She reared her head up. The top of her head smacking his jaw. Anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t want to be called by that name! I don’t want a man wearing a mask! I want to see your face!” she sobbed, backing away from him, tangling in the blankets and falling to her ass. She sobbed, rolling over and struggling with the blankets to crawl away. How could he not understand how important it was that she see him! See the man bringing her the pleasure she so desperately wanted.
Laird grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. “Layle, stop it now!” he ordered.
She sobbed, legs kicking out at him. There was no way she would allow this to happen to her again! Not by someone she had so willingly shared herself with. She scuffled with him, trying to get a grip and flip him. Her fists flew, and she groaned at the impact against hard flesh. Her body bucked and thrashed against his.
Laird pinned her down with his weight, discovering his little one had gumption and a wallop behind those little fists. “Layle!”
Layle stopped and stared up at him. His lip bled, and his hair was a tousled mess. He lay between her legs, pinning her to the bed. How had they gotten to this position? “Layle…I’m trying to help.” He whispered the last part. “You will never be able to get past it if you don’t face it.”
Layle stared at him. Her heart raced and her belly cringed. She didn’t want to trust this man! She couldn’t, not when he knew what those masks did to her. How could she trust anyone who would so willingly put this hurt on her? She shook her head and finally turned her head away and stared blankly at the wall.
Laird pinched her chin and forced her to look at him. “Don’t you dare, Layle!” he ordered. His heart trembled in his chest. There was no way he was going to let her turn away, go to that place where she wouldn’t feel anything. “Layle, look at me!” he ordered. A blank stare took up vacancy in her now-dull green eyes. “Layle, I swear if you don’t look at me right now…” He growled and held himself from tearing away from her and walking away. That was the cowardly thing to do. He refused to do that! He would stay and face this. Help her through this. He refused to leave her alone. Not after having her and seeing the way she could be. She deserved to feel everything she desired. “Please, Layle…look at me,” he begged, releasing her chin.
Her head rolled to the side, and she stared at the wall blankly. Her body went completely limp beneath his.
Laird’s insides cringed. He had brought her to this state, made her relive things she was not ready to face. He lay down next to her, pulling her close.
He kissed her temple. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He tightened his grip. “I’m not going to let you go, Layle…Keeping you forever,” he uttered passionately.
Laird clasped her hand and stroked her soft palm with his big thumb. He would stay here until she came out of the hell he had unconsciously sent her to.
Layle lay on her back, her face inches from his. Two hours she had stared at that wall before she turned to him, recognising him. She blinked a few times, finally tearing her gaze from Laird and looking at the ceiling. What had she been thinking? Why would she put herself in the position of possible hurt again?
Tears welled in her eyes and her stomach knotted as the image of Laird’s mask floated through her thoughts. She knew he was a sadist but that! She swallowed the lump in her throat and hiccupped. Tears spilled down the sides of her face. She couldn’t have anything to do with him. Not with her fear of those masks! The tears flowed freely now as her heart broke into a million pieces. She couldn’t be with him and give him what he needed if she couldn’t accept his kink of wanting to wear the mask.
She reached out to him, her hand trembling and just barely touching his jaw. Her thumb caressing over his lower lip. She held the sob in from escaping her as she said a silent good-bye, slipping from the bed. Slipping away from Laird. She gathered her things and quickly slipped into her dress as silently as possible. Tears left warm paths down her cheeks as her heart broke that she wasn’t strong enough to face this fear. That she couldn’t bring herself to trust Laird the way he deserved. She took one last look at him lying on his side on the bed, his arm laying across the spot she had occupied. She bit her lower lip and turned, tears blinding her as she left Laird.
* * * *
Laird eased back on the comfy chair. A scantily clad beauty knelt next to him holding out a glass of scotch. “Thank you, Ella.” Normally he would praise her on her beauty or her stance, but tonight he wasn’t in any mood for niceties. Not after the way he had awoken to an empty bed and Layle gone. He tightened his grip around the glass and loosened it before he broke it in his hand. He had called the front desk immediately and found out she had left in the early hours of the morning requesting a cab home. He exhaled a long breath. At least she had been in t
he right mind to get a ride home and not walk.
Ella stood and made her way back to the main bar, leaving Laird to himself and his thoughts. Having had worked for Master Laird for years, she knew when to back away from him.
Lania strolled across the room, her sub Cal on his hands and knees crawling behind her.
Laird raised a sceptical eyebrow. Not often he saw Cal on the floor like that. Lania wasn’t normally this punishing. Lania chained Cal to the post that was strictly put there for bad pets. She crouched, spreading her legs, and probably offered her bad boy a view of her bare pussy. Laird watched as she cupped his cheek and how Cal laid his head in her palm. She whispered something to him, and a shot of hurt seemed to pass through the man’s eyes.
Lania settled in next to Laird. “Master Laird,” she greeted, her eyes glued to her sub as he knelt next to the post.
“Mistress Lania…was Cal being a bad boy?”
Lania snorted. “I’m trying to calm down. I thought it better to chain him to the post and sit and reflect before I took the whip to him,” she uttered.
Laird hummed in thought. “I’m listening if you want to share,” he assured her.
Lania glanced at him. “Maybe another time…maybe I’ll just call it a night.” She slumped and Laird was blown away. Not in all the years that she attended his club had he seen Mistress Lania slump in the club.
He glanced across the small space at Cal and saw pain in the man’s eyes. Cal had hurt his Mistress in some way. “We should have dinner tomorrow night, Lania…I’ll call up Jake and Vivian.”
Lania chewed her lower lip in thought. She should do it. It would be good to have a casual dinner with them. Shit, it had been months since she’d seen Jake and Vivian. Last she heard the two love birds were on some vacay yet again. A soft smile marred her bright red lips as fond memories of the two whirred through her mind. Jake, Laird’s best friend and Viv, the little brat of a sub who stole him from the club. When the hell had they gotten back in town? She gave a slight nod. “That would be good. I think Cal needs to think about his discretions for a few days,” she grumbled, rising and crossing back to him.
Laird watched as she released him, removed his collar, and whispered in his ear. Cal’s shoulders slumped, and he stared after her as she left the club. Cal had indeed been a very bad boy in the worst kind of way.
* * * *
Layle held still, her ears listening, and a darkness surrounded her. She tried to sniff the air, but the cloth bag over her head hindered her attempt. She growled in frustration. She was sure she had heard voices. Sell her? Purchase price? What sick fucking scenario had she fallen into now! She shivered as she felt a whoosh of air pass her, sending cold shivers over her. Someone was walking around her. She was sure of it. Dread filled her. She held still, trying to stop her bound hands from trembling. Trying to stop her sobs from escaping.
Tears rolled down her face. The last thing she remembered was leaving Laird’s hotel suite. She squeezed her eyes. She should never have snuck away from him. She should have stayed and faced him the next morning. She couldn’t though. She had needed to think, needed to get away from him and clear her mind. She had asked the man at the front desk to call her a cab and had been waiting out front fighting her tears and the want to return to Laird when she had felt the firm grip on her elbow and the voice hiss into her ear to stay calm. Then she had felt the barrel of the gun pressed to her back.
A shiver tore through her as she remembered the feel of that weapon. Of the firm grip. Of the asshole’s deep voice hiss into her ear. The stale beer smell emanating from his mouth. Once he’d had her in the alley, darkness and pain had shot through her head, and this was how she awoke. Dark all around her and cold hard floor beneath her, and she was sure her head had bled with how the sack over her head seemed glued to the one side of her head.
“You hit her hard. We should take the bag off and make sure you didn’t make her stupid. No one wants damaged goods,” grumbled a thick voice.
“She’s fine, tough cookie. Probably just broke skin and that’s all,” replied the oddly familiar voice. Layle searched her mind, trying to place the voice. She was sure she had heard it. “The man has to have money, they had been at some benefit.”
Layle clenched her teeth. The man from the elevator! Oh God, did Laird know she was taken? How long had she been out? Would he come look for her? Fear filled her at the thought of disappearing forever. Oh God the things these men could do to her.
“Boss is gonna be here in an hour. Go clean her up, dress her, and don’t you dare fucking touch her! That last girl was a fucking mess when you were done with her.”
Layle shivered in fear. He was going to undress her. Oh God. She was hefted up and she kicked out. “Get away from me!” she yelled, her legs kicking, her voice muffled by the cloth bag.
“I swear, you little bitch. If you don’t calm the fuck down you’ll have another welt on the other side of your head,” hissed the familiar voice.
“Let me go!” she screamed, shaking her head, her legs still kicking. Her heart accelerated, and she was sure she was starting to hyperventilate.
“Told you! Fucking firecracker.” The voice growled.
“Bill, grab her, take her, and get her cleaned up!” ordered the thick voice.
Layle screamed as she flew up, and her head banged against something hard, her stomach coming to rest on something. She kicked and screamed, realizing she was hefted over a shoulder. “Let me go!” she screamed, her screams coming to a halt as she hit the floor hard. She groaned, curling up in a ball. Bright light blinded her as the bag was ripped from her head along with, she was sure, chunks of hair. Her scalp stung and she tried to raise her hands. A tight grip took hold of her, and she cried out as her dress was ripped from her.
“We have something special for you, sweetheart. Pretty sure your little playboy will be on paying up for you lickity-split if he saw you dressed up real nice for him.”
Layle shook her head in confusion. This couldn’t be happening! No way in hell. They were going to try and sell her back to Laird? “He won’t buy me back,” she grumbled, her breath leaving her as she was hefted up and pushed forward. Her face smashing against cold tile as she stumbled.
“Oh he’ll buy you. I saw the way that man held onto you.”
Layle dared look up at her captor, her vision blurred from smashing against the tile. She blinked her eyes and focused on his neck. Dread filled her. Oh God, it was the asshole from the elevator. Her heart pounded double time. What had Laird said about the incidents? The tattoo? Oh God, she was going to die at the hands of this scumbag. Please let Laird come for her.
Chapter Ten
Laird paced in front of his desk, his hands behind his back and his eyes narrowed. “How much did they demand?” Jake asked.
Laird glanced at his good friend. He sat back in his chair, finger tapping the armrest in a casual way. “One million,” he replied, stopping and staring out the window. He wasn’t sure who the fuck had Layle, but it wouldn’t be long before they started hurting her. Already they had humiliated her. When he had received the envelope with the ransom demand and photos of her in some harem getup, her face bruised, he could have killed everyone around him.
Jake nodded his dark head. “And does good old Laird happen to have a million lying around?”
Laird looked at his friend and wanted to slap the grin off his face. “Not a time for your jokes, Jake,” he replied, rounding his desk and taking his seat. They had given him a drop-off point, but no pick up. So obviously he wasn’t dropping shit off, which meant Layle would be hurt more before he managed to get to her. “I need you to tail them for me, Jake. I understand you no longer do this kind of work, but I need to do the drop-off, and then you can follow them and let me know where they have her and I can go from there.”
Jake shook his head, chuckling. “No.” He straightened up. “You give me the briefcase. I’ll do the drop. You tail them and do whatever the fuck it is you’re going
to do.” He looked Laird in the eye. “Viv, Lania, and I will make an alibi for you. Perhaps you can hold a party that night at your country estate. We resemble each other enough that I can appear as either of us throughout the night. Maybe make it a masquerade thing?”
Laird nodded. He would leave those arrangements up to Lania and Viv, Jake’s wife. “That could be a busy night for you,” he replied casually.
Jake smirked. “Viv and I are always fashionably late, and no one ever knows where the hell you are during those functions. We just have to have Lania put bugs in ears that you’re in one dungeon or another.”
Laird relaxed back in his seat, thinking the scenario through. It could be done. Half the time he was busy in his office during those functions, keeping surveillance of what was going on in his home. “Sounds good,” he murmured.
* * * *
Laird held back as the asshole stopped and looked back. Scanned the area yet again before proceeding. He had the briefcase in hand. Had done four rounds of the block, and was now heading toward the industrial side of the city. He hung back far enough to stay out of sight but close enough not to lose him.
Bill turned the corner and ducked behind the garbage bin, catching his breath. He hugged the briefcase close and waited. He was sure someone was following him. Adrenaline ripped through him, and he clutched the bowie knife in his hand, waiting for the fucker to catch up. They always had someone follow him. Try to get their money and girl back. He grinned. His favorite part. He loved stabbing the bastard in the stomach, twisting his knife, and watching the shock and dread of being stabbed sear through his victim’s eyes Then the dismay that they would never save their girl and the fear and disgust and anger as he told them in detail how he would end her life. Oh, he couldn’t wait for this guy to be on his knees, eyes glazing over and hearing what was going to happen to his pretty little princess.