The Punishment: The Downing Family Book 3

by Wild, Cassie

  I wanted to go in there, study her form, search again for any sign of injury. Then I wanted to kiss her all over, kiss every spot my eyes had touched.

  But those words haunted me.

  Are you happy?

  The way she’d stared at me as she softly voiced the doubts I should have expected her to have.

  She was a good woman. Kind. Gentle.

  She volunteered at a kid’s center and taught dance to the underprivileged.

  Why hadn’t I thought about how the shit that was my life might affect her?

  I had no explanation, except for the simple truth that I hadn’t wanted to think about it.

  I could hear the water splashing in the bathroom, and I moved farther away until I ran out of room. Those few feet I’d managed to put between me and the bathroom door didn’t help lessen the sounds of the water raining down. That was all I needed to think about, Daria naked and warm, her flesh rosy from the heat of the water.

  I was into self-torment, I decided sometime later as I found myself closing my eyes and thinking about all the things taking place in the shower, the way she’d felt curled up in my lap.

  Want pulsed inside, an all-consuming ache.

  At the sound of the door opening, I remained where I was, standing rigidly while staring doggedly out into the busy Miami street ten floors below.

  “I’m done,” she said quietly.

  I nodded. In the window, I could make out her wavering reflection and saw that she’d pulled my white dress shirt back on.

  At least she was covered, but just thinking about my shirt pressing against her soft skin filled me with possessiveness.

  She was mine.

  She told me she loved me.

  The rest of it was just noise.

  I wasn’t about to lose her now that I’d just found her.

  I’d come to accept something in the minutes I’d been standing there, trying not to give in to the urge to join her in the shower.

  Daria wasn’t the only one who’d found herself in over her head on this.

  I was falling in love with her.

  It was a new thing for me, loving somebody other than my family.

  I wouldn’t be able to carry on as normal, because things weren’t normal now. Everything had changed between us. Everything.

  I turned and faced her, but she had already moved to the bed, smoothing the blanket back into place, then turning the sheet down.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?” I asked her softly.

  She lifted a shoulder in a tired shrug. Giving me a wan look, she said, “You were right about one thing. I need to rest. I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life.”

  She slid into the bed, lying on her side facing me.

  I lay down too and curled around her, staying on top of the covers, not quite trusting myself to be so close without something separating us. “I need to shower,” I said softly. “I also need to figure out what we’re going to do from here on out.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but a huge yawn cracked her mouth wide open.

  She gave me a sheepish smile.

  I reached up and traced the full curve of her lip. “You get some sleep, okay?”

  “You’re not going anywhere?” She watched me, eyes intent.

  “No. I’m not going anywhere.” To prove it, I rested an arm around her, tucking her next to me, the down comforter between us like a soft cloud.

  I’d hold her until she fell asleep.

  I had control enough for that, as long as she wasn’t touching me, as long as I didn’t have my hands on her bare skin.

  * * *

  I put in a call to Duardo.

  He picked up the phone almost immediately, and when he spoke, there was next to no emotion in his voice.

  “Hello, Brooks. Why am I not surprised to hear from you?”

  “Probably because you knew I wouldn’t let Daria go through with this shit. I paid that debt, Duardo.”

  He breathed out softly, and seconds passed before he finally spoke. “As I said, I’m not surprised to hear from you. I’ll leave word at the club. She’s staying across the street. She’s not working tonight, but from what my people have told me, she doesn’t go out except to buy groceries. Once you get there, I’ll—”

  “I already have Daria,” I told him, cutting him off.

  Surprise seemed to travel through the silence for several seconds. “I wasn’t aware you had been to the club,” Duardo said softly.

  “I went by there earlier. I’m surprised Marcos didn’t tell you.” Curiosity pricked at me, and I added, “But maybe he was distracted, with the party and everything else going on.”

  Duardo chuckled, but it sounded forced. “Marcos loves his parties.”

  “I guess he enjoys getting women from the clubs to work the party too.” I cleared my throat, forcing calm into my voice. “I’m curious…are they told they’ll be expected to fuck whoever shows interest, or do you all just set them up like you did with Daria?”

  The surprise gave way to tension. “Just what is it you want to tell me, Brooks?” The edge in Duardo’s voice was now sharp enough to cut. “Get it out. No reason to dance around the bush.”

  “Daria was at the party.” I stared out the window. “Was that your doing, or Marcos?”

  Duardo seemed surprised. “Marcos told you that he’d taken Daria to one of his parties?”

  “No.” I closed my hand into a tight fist. “He invited me to the party, and I found Daria there.” I let him process that, then continued, “If anything had happened to her, if one person had touched her after I made it clear she was under my protection…” I left him to finish the rest.

  “I’ll deal with Marcos,” Duardo said, voice going cold. “Is it safe to assume that Daria is…well?”

  I turned and looked through the connecting doorway into the other room where she lay sprawled on her belly, one arm flung out, the other curled into a fist tucked close to her head.

  “She wasn’t physically hurt,” I said softly. “That is the only reason I’m not going to kill Marcos.”

  I ended the call and put the phone back into my pocket.

  Then I settled in the chair in the small living area of the suite and stretched out my legs, closing my eyes.

  * * *

  Snatches of barely formed dreams passed through my mind, images of Daria in that costume, her hand gripping a pole as she danced. Marcos stood by watching, promising, “If you see anything you like, it’s on the house.”

  I tried to reach her, but she spun away and was gone like smoke.

  A noise penetrated the fragmented dream.

  I opened my eyes, confused and uncertain about where I was.

  I sat up and looked around just as the noise started up again. It was soft, almost pained.

  Daria. Moaning softly in her sleep.

  I pushed out of the seat and padded quietly to her side. She twisted fitfully on the bed, and as I sat down on the edge, the hand that had been curled into a fist opened. I put my hand in hers.

  Immediately, she closed her fingers around mine and rolled toward me as if she’d been seeking me in her dream.

  Reaching up, I stroked her cheek with my free hand.

  A soft rush of breath fell from her lips.

  “Wake up, Daria,” I said.

  She twisted, almost feverishly, on the mattress.

  Bending down lower, I pressed my lips to her ear. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  Nineteen

  Daria

  I could hear him in the shower.

  Curled on the bed, eyes locked on the door, I focused on the sound of him in there and tried not to think about anything else that had happened that day.

  I didn’t want to think about Marcos or the party or what I’d heard.

  I was content to just stretch out my body under the lush comforter and listen as I blanked my mind.

  But my eyes grew heavier.

  In the back of my mind, I heard
Marcos’ voice as he said, “I might have helped facilitate things.”

  Raymond’s laugh as he talked about his role.

  I covered my eyes with my hand, trying to block it all out. I didn’t want to think about what it meant.

  I’d known the nightmare was waiting for me.

  I lay on the bed, fighting the heavy call of sleep because I knew what would happen when I closed my eyes. But the stress of everything that had happened left me drained, and sleep came on hard and fast.

  I was back at the party.

  The room was too crowded, and instead of passing around drinks, I was being passed around, shoved from one man to another while in the background, Marcos laughed.

  I heard a soft sound of dismay and fought free of the people surrounding me. I had to follow that noise.

  The scene shifted on me as I left the room, and I found myself back at the club, walking down the hall to the breakroom.

  A door slammed open, and I turned to see.

  “No…”

  I didn’t know if I said it out loud or if I just thought it, but the word echoed through my head, over and over, as I stared at Brooks. Peaches stood in his arms, and he had his hand tangled in her hair, head pulled back to bare her throat.

  Brooks was kissing her.

  Peaches rubbed against him, and she wore the same schoolgirl outfit I’d worn, her lush breasts spilling out of the cups of the black bra. Brooks cupped her butt in his hands, and she giggled as he told her, “I like being in control.”

  “Then control me, Brooks,” she said, smiling coyly up at him.

  I thought I might be sick.

  It’s a dream, I told myself. It has to be.

  But that didn’t make it any easier to tear my eyes away from what I was seeing.

  A door shut, and I spun around. Again, the scene had melted away, and I was back in the hall where I’d heard Marcos talking about facilitating things. I wanted to grab the potted plant from behind me and hurl the painted terracotta base at him, but I couldn’t even convince myself to move.

  I stood there, frozen, as he left the room, Raymond following along.

  They both turned to look at me, and Marcos shook his head. “You need to be out there dancing and paying off your debt. If you don’t dance, I’ll hold you down while he rapes you.”

  He gestured off to the side, and I flinched when I realized he was pointing to Brooks.

  Brooks still had his tongue halfway down Peaches’ throat, but at the sound of Marcos’ voice, he lifted his head and looked at me. “I like being in control, Daria. You know that.”

  I shook my head and backed away.

  I slammed right into Marcos, and he caught my shoulders, fingers biting into my skin cruelly.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, breath hot on my ear. “We’re just getting started.”

  “Getting started with—”

  My question was cut short as he spun me around and pressed his mouth to mine, a brutal mockery of a kiss. He thrust his tongue inside, and when I tried to pull away, he twisted a hand in my hair and yanked painfully hard.

  The dream shifted around me as I reached up to shove him away. My hands came in contact with soft skin instead of lean muscle. I jerked back, staring at Peaches. Her makeup was smeared, eyeliner running in rivers down her cheeks. Her mouth was bleeding and swollen. There was a small split in her lower lip, and as I watched, she touched it with her tongue.

  “Why didn’t you help me, Daria?” she asked in a wounded, soft voice.

  Brooks came up behind her and slid his hands around her waist. He cupped one ample breast. It filled his hand to overflowing. The sight of him touching her caused a sharp pain in my chest.

  I wanted to grab her and yank her away.

  A drop of blood rolled down her lip.

  Brooks turned her around and pulled her up against him. We were at the party now, and it was loud, people laughing drunkenly and lying in drugged fugue states on the floor while their cohorts grabbed at the girls who’d been brought in to serve at the party.

  “You’re supposed to be working, Daria,” Marcos said into my ear. He yanked me back against him and grabbed me through my clothes. He ground himself against my butt. I tried to twist away, and he just held me tighter, laughing at me.

  Then it wasn’t his laugh.

  It was Brooks’ laugh.

  Terrified desperation gave me strength, and I tore away, stumbling a few steps before turning to look at him.

  He had a drop of blood on his mouth. Dazed, I reached up and probed at my swollen lip. My fingers found a small cut. It hurt, and as I continued to hold my trembling fingers against my mouth, Brooks approached me.

  “Dance for me, Daria,” he said, voice silken soft, but…dangerous.

  “Brooks…” I backed up, shaking my head.

  Off to the side, I saw Peaches struggling against Marcos. I glanced her way, and she gave me a panicked look. “You were supposed to help me!”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered as Brooks grabbed me.

  His hands roamed over me, touching everywhere Marcos had touched.

  “You danced for him, didn’t you?” he demanded, cupping my breast in his hand and squeezing so tight I cried out. He yanked my skirt up and cupped me in his hand. He touched me roughly, with little care that it hurt. “Did you let him touch you too? Touch you here?”

  “What? No,” I said, gasping in outrage.

  “But you danced for him. You came down here and danced for all these men. Who touched you, Daria? What did you let them do?”

  “I…nothing. I just danced!”

  “She danced too,” Brooks said, nodding at Peaches. Marcos had forced her to the ground, and I jolted at the sight of him rubbing against her.

  Was this really happening?

  “Daria!”

  I shook my head. “Don’t do this,” I said as he touched me.

  “Daria…wake up!”

  I jolted awake, sitting upright, a scream trapped in my throat.

  Brooks caught me in his arms.

  Still half trapped in the dream, I smacked at his hands and tried to get away.

  “Daria,” he said as I struggled for consciousness. “It was just a dream. Wake up. Come on, baby…”

  Heart racing, I grabbed the blanket and wrapped myself in it, chilled to the bone.

  He reached up, touching my hair. This time, I didn’t pull away. The dream fell around me in tatters, and I swayed forward, dropping my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” he said, curving an arm around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  A weak laugh escaped me. “I don’t know. The dream…” I shook my head, unable to continue.

  He let me sit in silence for a moment, then he eased me back to the pillow and cupped my cheek in his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I opened my mouth, not even certain I could speak. “I…it was Marcos. Peaches. You.” Without even thinking about it, I said, “I know you slept with her.”

  “We discussed that, didn’t we? It was…just sex.”

  “I know.” I managed a weak smile, although deep inside, I had to wonder if that was what I meant to Brooks—just sex.

  As if he could read exactly what was going on in my mind, he kissed the palm of my hand.

  “Since that night at the wedding, there hasn’t been anybody else, Daria.”

  It surprised me enough that I just stared at him.

  He pressed his thumb against my mouth, a light pressure that felt strangely erotic.

  “I only want you, Daria. You’re turning into a fever in my blood.” His eyes burned into mine. “You’re turning into everything. I…”

  His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he closed his eyes, a shudder going through him. When he looked back at me, the intensity in his eyes had only increased. “I think I’m falling in love with you, Daria.” I had no idea what he saw on my face, but whatever it was, it brought a faint grin cur
ling to his lips. “Don’t look so surprised.”

  I swallowed, then closed my eyes, burying my face against his neck.

  This was all so crazy. Too crazy. There was still all the unfinished business with Marcos, and I hadn’t told him anything about what I’d overheard. I was still determined to find a way to get the Castellanos, especially Marcos, to leave us alone…forever.

  I wasn’t sure exactly where the love I had for Brooks was headed. But in that moment, there was nothing more I wanted than to have him hold me in his arms as though the rest of the ugly world was a vanishing dream.

  Twenty

  Brooks

  Daria’s eyes were wide and soft, and just looking at her made my heart ache.

  The ache had been there ever since she’d nervously confessed that she loved me. I hadn’t really intended to tell her how I felt—I hadn’t even fully known how I felt—but now that the words were out there, this just seemed…right.

  She turned her face and pressed a kiss to my palm.

  The feel of her mouth moving against my skin lit a hot fire inside me. As she pulled back, I shoved my fingers into the long soft hair, pinning her within my arms.

  “Come here,” I whispered.

  She was already moving back to me, the blankets she’d clung to falling away. By the time I had her in my lap, the only thing that covered her was the dress shirt I’d given her hours earlier to cover the skimpy outfit.

  Memories of the night hit hard, like acid in my blood. Without thinking, I gave the front of the shirt a hard pull and tore it away from her skin. I never wanted anything associated with the past night touching her again, not even my own garment.

  She shrugged her shoulders as I pushed the shirt off and caught her waist, pulling her in closer to straddle my lap, pumping up to meet her wet heat.

  It was like the first time all over again. She felt amazing. Her taste was sweeter, her skin softer, her body hotter.