Maman's voice sounded funny, like it was being squeezed. "Take…your hands…off…me!"
Savi pushed open the door until she saw Father on top of Maman, sitting on her tummy. Maman's legs kicked the air, but with Father sitting on her, she couldn't kick him. Father's hands choked Maman's throat until her face turned red. Why was he hurting her?
Savannah ran across the room and rounded the bed to face Father. His eyes were scary as he focused on squeezing Maman's throat.
"Stop it, Father! She can't breathe!"
But he didn't stop. Maman's pale-pink fingernails that Savannah had polished in the cave this morning clawed at his hands and wrists as she tried to break his tight hold. Blood trickled from his hands, but he didn't let go. Savannah climbed onto the bed and pushed against her father's side, but he didn't notice her at all. She pounded on his arm with her fists. He broke his hold with one hand long enough to swat Savannah away like a pesky fly. She landed with a thump on the floor and looked up to watch Maman's legs stop moving; her hands falling to her sides. She lay very still.
Even so, Father didn't let go of her neck. Savannah stood up and looked at Maman's face. After what seemed like forever, Father let go and stood up. He staggered a bit as he got off Maman. Savannah climbed back onto the bed and rushed to Maman's side. She shook her shoulder.
"Wake up, Maman. I'm scared."
Maman's eyes were open. She wasn't asleep at all. Maman couldn't see her anymore.
"Go to your room, Savannah."
Father's voice was even colder than usual. She should be afraid of him, but for some reason she wasn't. Maman needed her help. Savannah needed to get Dr. Morris to come. She couldn't leave her like this.
"I said go to your room. I will take care of your mother. Then I'll come tuck you in."
Father never tucked her in. Maman always did that. She didn't want him to tuck her in.
She shook Maman's shoulders as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Maman, please wake up!" But she wouldn't wake up.
Strong arms grabbed Savannah's skinny arms.
"No! I want my maman!"
Father turned her to face him. His eyes were different. Scarier. He shook her until her teeth banged against each other.
"You're just like her, you dirty slut. I said go to your room. You will do as I say. No more being coddled by your mother. I'll take care of you later."
She knew Father didn't mean taking care of her the way Maman did. Afraid, she hurried out of the room and returned to the safety of her bedroom—but the room didn't feel safe anymore. Father was going to punish her. She didn't know what she'd done wrong, but it must have been something very bad to make Father so upset with her. He frightened her.
Grabbing the princess Barbie off the top of her pillow, Savannah crawled under the bed. She didn't want Father to find her. Clutching the doll to her chest, she tried to imagine herself in a fairy princess's castle with brave knights and a handsome prince to protect her.
Much later, she heard the door creak open. The light from the hallway shone behind his dress pants. Father's once-shiny black shoes now were caked with mud. He never got dirty. Savannah knew her father had come to punish her. Her body shook as she watched his legs walk to the closet. They looked like they were separated from his body. Then he turned and stood in the middle of the room.
"Where are you, Savannah? I don't have time for your games."
Savannah squeezed her eyes tight and tried to picture her castle, but all that she could see was the beach cave. Maman was waiting for her there.
She needed to run away.
Escape! Now!
Chapter Twenty
The riveted flogger slashed across Savi's back. Searing, white-hot pain radiated throughout her upper body, but paled in comparison to the pain slashing at her heart.
Maman was dead.
The lashes struck her upper thighs.
Maman was dead.
She experienced the trauma of Maman's murder as if it had just happened. For Savi, it had. How could she have forgotten something so horrific all these years? But she hadn't forgotten. Savi had never known. Savannah had repressed it.
Maman was dead.
Savi still hadn't reconciled the loss in her mind. She couldn't blame Savannah for needing to block something so horrific from her mind. The little girl's innocent mind couldn't handle the truth and had simply surrounded that knowledge with protective barriers that kept her from remembering. Savi didn't known how to process it any better, even as an adult.
How many other things, too horrible to accept, had Savannah blocked out?
Savi's head hung listlessly. Father wanted to hear her scream. She tried to escape from the pain as the leather flogger pounded against skin already torn from the whipping earlier, but each strike wrenched her away from her refuge in Damián's arms.
"Scream for me, Savannah."
She had no safeword with her Father. She'd never been safe around this monster.
The pain of the flogger was excruciating, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. She wished she could zone out, but didn't want to forget what he was doing to her. She wanted to remember everything. She wanted justice for Maman. Savi intended to prosecute him this time for everything he'd done to them.
"Damn you, Savannah. My arm's tired; I'm taking a break. We will continue this later, but I won't go as easy on you then."
She heard him walk out of the room and close the door.
Remembering the visualization technique her therapist had taught her, Savi found her focal point—the left leg of the ottoman she was tied to—and imagined she was with Damián. He would never inflict pain like this, just to hear her scream. He took care of her; gave her only what she needed to release the pent-up emotions.
Damián loved her, protected her—
Peace descended. The pain receded as she escaped into her mind.
Escaped from the pain.
From Father.
The salt air washed over her as they rode Damián's Harley up the Pacific Coast Highway.
Escape. Freedom.
“I’ll carry you.” He removed her helmet—well, his helmet, since he only had the one—and secured it in the compartment with her shoes.
She laughed. “I can walk in my bare feet once we get to the beach.”
His hands spanned her waist under the open jacket and he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing. She grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself, laughing. His muscles corded beneath his black T-shirt.
“I’ll carry you again when we get to the rocks, then.”
Damián couldn't carry her down those steps, over those rocks, anymore. He'd lost his foot serving in Iraq.
Damián handed her the towel, then lifted her into his arms. “Oh!” She screamed in surprise…
How on earth could he hold her weight now? His foot…
Guilt assailed her for making him carry her. “You can put me down. I can walk.”
“I’m carrying you.”
His tone didn’t invite disagreement, so she held on tight, hoping to ease some of her weight from his arms.
She stared at his profile. His nose had been broken at some point. Had he been an athlete in school, or had he been injured fighting? He had a closed-up hole for an ear piercing. No earring. A lock of hair fell over his forehead that she itched to brush back with her fingers. His devilish appearance did strange things to her libido—like ignite it. Strange, indeed.
Why do I feel at home in the arms of this stranger?
This man who simply made her feel. Period. She’d been numb for so long. How had he gotten past her fortress at all, much less in such a short time? A first for her with any man.
He'd broken through the numbness not once, but many times now since the first time at their beach cave.
"Oh, Damián."
He yanked her head back painfully, pulling her hair. Father yanked her from her sanctuary of Damián's arms. The beautiful scene disappeared.
"Don't you ev
er use that Spic's name around me again, Savannah." Father. "Now I'm going to make you scream for me, Savannah. It's been too long."
Savannah caught the glittering reflections of the overhead light winking off the tiny steel rivets imbedded in the fingers of the barbed flogger as he unfurled the wicked instrument before he stepped behind her once again.
At the first fall of those fingers, searing, burning pain clawed its way through her body again as Damián faded away, a sad expression on his face.
Damián, don't leave me here! I can't go through this without you!
* * *
The day's heat radiated off the sand beneath his belly and sweat poured down Damián's neck as he lifted the ski mask for some relief. Damián didn't care if he was identified, but if the others were forced to wear the masks, he should suffer with them.
He studied how they would gain access to the isolated cabin. Grant had scrambled the communication signals between the cabin and the security detail, and they'd managed to take down three of the four guards, hog-tying them and leaving them gagged in the back of the sweltering SUV. The perimeter had been much wider than expected, so they'd taken nearly an hour to low-crawl this far.
Still no sign of Savi. Knowing his girl was in danger just yards away made him constantly recheck his thinking to make sure he didn't blow the mission with his impatience.
It wasn't optimal to go in before nightfall, but the longer Savi was in the hands of that fucking bastard, the greater the risk she would be hurt. Savi had been through enough already. He didn't want her psyche marred any more than it already was by this clusterfuck.
Fucking asshole.
Once Savi was safe, Damián planned a special one-on-one session with the bastard who fathered her, before turning him over to the authorities. First, though, he had to get his girl out of there. No amount of screaming from the man would get Damián to back off either, not after what he'd done to Savi since the abduction two days ago, not to mention what he'd done to Savannah in the past.
Damián needed to hear him scream as he delivered pain on par with what he'd inflicted on his daughter. Memories of the mark burning into her most tender flesh cemented his plans. Thoughts of her having to endure the branding would forever be branded on his brain.
A hand on his shoulder brought his focus back to the present. "Breathe, son."
Damián turned to find Dad stretched out beside him. They'd separated in their approach to the cabin. When had he joined him? Damián needed to get his fucking head back on the mission.
Focus, man. You can't afford to let your emotions get the better of you. Savi needs you. Don't fuck this up.
Dad's gaze returned to the cabin. "Everyone's in place, waiting for your signal. Ready?"
"Hell, yeah."
Damián hit the press-to-talk button on the radio on his shoulder and gave Marc and Grant the code. After giving the agreed-upon signal, he and Dad low-crawled toward the back door. Marc would approach from the front, his rifle and sidearm with him. Marc was supposed to wait for the all-clear signal, unless something went wrong. As a Navy corpsman serving with a ground unit of Marines, Marc had been trained as a rifleman, but he hadn't kept up with practice since his medical discharge in 2005.
Damián and Dad were better shots. If a sharpshooter was needed, Damián would have the best chance of hitting the target, but he and Dad spent a morning once a month at a firing range, too. Target practice relaxed them both.
The infrared instruments hadn't shown any body heat in the front of the house, though, so he doubted Marc would have to fire on anyone. Most likely, their targets would be back here. There only seemed to be four or five rooms in the cabin to clear.
Grant monitored communications near the SUV, but had her rifle ready, too, in case anyone tried to escape. She guarded the most likely exit, unless the rich bastard had access to a helicopter or plane. Regardless, Grant would make certain the bastard didn't escape, even if something happened to Damián and the others here at the cabin. With luck, he and Dad could take the old man down before shots were fired.
He didn't want Savi endangered by a stray bullet.
Working in tandem with Dad at the back door of the cabin, they immobilized the guard who'd been more intent on his skin magazine than doing his job. Damián hoped Marc didn't encounter any resistance out front. By their intel, though, there were only four guards—pretty light security—in which case, this was the last one. He'd probably been guarding the perimeter of the cabin alone. Dad trussed him up and gave the signal to move in.
Savi's high-pitched scream ripped through his gut. Rage surfaced; this time, he found it impossible to ignore it. When Damián got his hands on the bastard, he would pay for everything he'd ever done to Savannah, including whatever he'd just done to make her scream.
Damián had everything he needed packed away in the SUV to right those wrongs.
The sound of a leather flogger against skin elicited another piercing scream, letting them know in which direction they'd find her. While Damián wanted to charge in, Dad's hand on his shoulder and a motion to take it slowly, stopped him between two closed doors on opposite sides of the hallway. The lash of the flogger and an exhausted moan from Savi told them which door to break down.
"He will never own your body the way I do, Savannah. Never."
Savi's strained voice made him ache. "I am Damián's. Always."
Before the man could strike another blow, Dad booted open the door and Damián charged in. The man he remembered from the entrance of the mansion—who he'd thought at one time was Savannah's sugar daddy—held the leather barbed flogger in the air high above his head. Damián aimed his sidearm at the man's hand and the cracking report rent the air as the flogger was blown out of his hand.
"What the fuck…?"
Damián stormed into the room and slammed against the man, shoving him away from Savi and against the wall.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Damián lifted the mask and waited for recognition to dawn. He wanted the bastard to have no doubt who he was dealing with—and why. A sidelong glance at Savi, tied and strapped to an ottoman, her ass and back raw and bleeding from the flogger, and probably a whip, as well, added more fuel to the fire raging inside him.
He turned his attention to the man he'd so easily overpowered. Damián kept his voice calm, knowing he needed to get Savi to safety before he could play with his prey. "You'll pay for every mark you've ever put on her body or mind, you fucking bag of shit."
Impotent rage made the man's face grow splotchy. "You'll never own her the way I do. I placed my brand on her."
Savi moaned. "No. Not yours…Damián's good girl."
Something inside him swelled with pride. Even in the white-hot haze of pain, she remembered. His good girl. Fucking right! Now they needed to get her out of here and to a hospital.
Dad squeezed Damián's shoulder and motioned for him to see to Savi. He probably didn't want Damián doing prison time for killing the motherfucking bastard. Dad repeated the gesture more forcefully and Damián took a step back. They'd keep conversation to a minimum.
Dad grabbed the bastard and threw him across the room into the wall where he slumped to a heap on the floor. With his identity hidden, Dad could get away with more than Damián might. Damián still planned to get his later and didn't care who knew his name.
The bastard sputtered as he stood again. "You're on my property." He stabbed his finger toward Savi. "She is my property. Leave or I'll report you to the police."
Dad pushed the man into the corner and knocked his feet out from under him. "Shut the fuck up. Now."
Well, so much for the plan of anonymity. Dad was as pissed as Damián.
Savi's father didn't defy Dad's order; he cowered in the corner like the rodent he was. No longer worried about having to defend Savi or Dad, Damián turned his attention to Savi, moaning in pain, hair soaked, eyes closed. He heard Dad radio Marc and Grant the all-clear code.
His full attention now on Savi,
Damián couldn't bear to look at how the bastard had left her skin raw and broken. He knelt in front of her and focused on her face instead. The throbbing in Damián's stump, rubbed sore from crawling across the desert, didn't begin to compare with what Savi was experiencing. At least he knew she was alive, although the welts and cuts on her backside would leave yet more scars on her body—and mind.
He brushed the hair from her forehead, dampened by sweat. "I'm here, bebé. You're safe. It's all over now."
"She's dead, isn't she?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her throat raw from her screams.
"No, querida, Marisol's fine. You protected her well."
She shook her head. "No. I remember. He killed her. Oh, God." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I watched him kill her. How could I shut it out all these years? I thought she'd left because she didn't want me." A sob tore from her throat.
Years? Who was she talking about? "Where are you, Savi? Who's dead?"
"Maman."
The god-damned bastard killed her mother? While his daughter watched?
I'll get justice for you, mi sueño.
Savi—Savannah—would have justice before Damián left this cabin.
With the opening of old wounds, would Savi be able to reclaim Savannah as her own? He might be able to help start the process by calling her that again, gauging her reaction.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Savannah."
A voice from behind him said, "She's a filthy whore, just like…"
The crunch of fist on bone silenced the man. Damián glanced over to see blood trickling from the corner of the bastard's mouth. Dad flexed his fist a few times to work out the sting, but Damián knew he was probably grinning behind his mask. The man had no tolerance for abusers, murderers, or pedophiles—and Savannah's father was all three. Damián gave Dad the thumbs-up sign.
Savannah moaned, drawing his attention back to her. She lifted her head and opened her pain-glazed eyes, struggling to focus on Damián. "Where's Mari?" When he didn't answer fast enough, her eyes opened wider, and she struggled against the bonds. "I need my baby! Take me to her!"
Nobody's Perfect Page 39