When Monroe was able to stand, Zach came in with another punch to his face. Monroe didn’t strike back, did not even try to avoid the blow.
A small piece of sanity was returning to Zach’s brain but he still wanted to cause damage. “You might want to change your mind.”
“I might.”
Monroe turned away from the next blow so that it landed solidly in his shoulder.
Zach’s fist drew back, then stopped. The grey cloud in his brain cleared completely at the sight of blood soaking through Monroe’s shirt in exactly the spot where his last punch landed. Monroe looked down at the stain, then up again at Zach.
“Don’t let a little blood stop you.” He took a step toward Zach and stumbled. “Fuck.”
Zach’s arms went out and caught Monroe before he fell.
“What the hell happened to you?” Zach demanded.
“I had some very nice stitches holding me together, but I’m afraid you’ve messed them up.”
The blood was quickly soaking into a large section of the shirt.
“Come on, this way.”
Zach led.
“The sub couch, really?”
“Just shut up and sit down. Take off the shirt while you’re at it.”
The low malted-whisky laugh was Zach’s answer. It had the same effect it always did and Zach closed his eyes for a moment and let his nerves settle.
He walked to the sink to gather supplies. The dungeon had everything needed for minor injuries, but when he looked back at the spreading red stain, Zach realized this was more than minor. He would start with pressure on the wound. It would hurt, thought Zach, with a twinge of short-lived satisfaction.
Monroe’s eyes were closed as he leaned back against the cushions. Zach hadn’t noticed the pallor in his friend’s face or the dark rings around his eyes. The man looked like shit.
Monroe’s voice was weary. “If you cover me with a sub blanket, our friendship is over.”
“If I had a sub blanket in my hands, I would use it to smother you.”
Monroe’s laugh vibrated up Zach’s spine.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Call Stephens,” said Monroe, “and tell him to bring supplies to stitch me up.”
Zach pressed down with the towel on the jagged tear that ran from under Monroe’s right pectoral muscle to the top of his shoulder blade.
“Christ,” Monroe hissed through his teeth. “I know you can be gentler!”
“I could.”
“Just make the call, damn it.”
Stephen arrived three minutes later, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place. He didn’t comment on the state of Monroe’s face or the twelve-inch gash when he took off the blood-soaked towel. He went to work removing the torn stitches, disinfecting the area and then pinching the skin together before very precisely replacing each stitch.
Monroe didn’t make a sound.
Zach walked over to the refrigerator, removed a bottle of orange juice, and waited.
“If you have no further needs Mr. Monroe,” Stephens said in his same crisp tone, “I would like to resume my night’s sleep.”
How the hell did Stephens do it? Zach had to turn away and hide his smile as Stephens left the room.
“He saved my life.”
“Stephens?”
“Yes, and I haven’t managed to get rid of him since.”
“I know the feeling. Drink this.”
“Yes, master.”
“Don’t start.”
“I found her for you.” Monroe still hadn’t opened his eyes.
Brave man, Zach thought bitterly. But all his anger had deflated.
“She loves you,” he said, unable to keep the misery out of his voice.
“She loves us both,” Monroe corrected him.
“And we both love her.”
Monroe’s dark eyes finally opened. “I’m glad.”
“Hell, I’m not! What the hell do we do?”
“I think that will be up to you,” Monroe said.
“It should be up to her!”
Monroe’s eyebrow lifted. “I’m sure you’ve figured out her biggest problems by now?”
“Guilt, shame, no pain limits. Hell, no limits.”
“Exactly,” Monroe said. “But she feels. With what she’s been through, that’s a miracle in itself.”
“Maybe she feels too much.”
“Maybe…She needs us both Zach.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment before Zach spoke in a low voice.
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Then — and I quote what you said to me before — ‘You don’t love her enough.’”
Zack could offer nothing but silence.
“Do you think you could help me stay upright long enough to get to the den and a bottle of Johnny Walker?”
“Now, I know you’re injured,” Zach snorted. “I thought you only kept that shit around for me.”
“I do, and I’m hoping you’ll join me.”
“What about Angel?”
“Get me to the den and then go get her for us. She can listen while we talk.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“I’m not talking about our relationship. I’m too fucked over at the moment.”
“Understood.” He reached down and helped Monroe stand. “Let’s go big boy.”
“Now you’ve gone too far.”
“Whatcha going to do about it?”
“Try to stay upright long enough to fall onto another couch.”
“That’ll work.”
***
Her room was dark but the light from Monroe’s bedside lamp was bright enough he could see inside. She lay on the bed, not moving. He didn’t think she was crying any longer. His weight sank into the mattress and his hand went to her head, smoothing away wispy strands of hair.
“We want you to come downstairs and sit with us.”
She rolled over and grabbed his hand. Her movements almost desperate, “I love you.”
“I know, and I love you. But I’m not sure this will work.”
She sat up and wrapped her hands around his neck, holding onto him the same way she’d held onto Monroe. Her lips met his. The kiss was everything she felt: love, passion, and heartache.
He broke away first. “Come on.”
He took her hand and led her downstairs to her master’s waiting arms.
This time she approached him slowly. His shirt remained off and there was a small amount of blood seeping through the bandage. The glare she cast Zach’s way was fierce.
His hands came up. “I didn’t do all of it.”
“No, love, he didn’t,” Monroe agreed.
She bent to go to her knees but his hand came down, patting the sofa. “Up here.”
She practically climbed into his lap. He positioned her so her head was leaning against his uninjured shoulder.
This time Zach didn’t feel anger; he felt intense, gut-wrenching loss.
Monroe’s eyes met his. “Please, Zach. Sit here with us.
Zach managed to sit at the opposite end of the couch, daring Monroe to say anything.
“Here, pet. Stretch out but keep your head in my lap.”
She made no complaint, showed nothing but complete trust that Monroe would make everything better. Zach wasn’t at all sure, though he remembered how it felt to think his friend could walk on water.
“What happened?” Zach asked.
“My knife slipped and his sword didn’t.”
“Sword?”
“Yes, a goddamn sword.”
Zach laughed and it felt good. Angel’s burning gaze turned on him and he grabbed her feet, moving his body so they ended up in his lap.
“Don’t make me spank you,” he told her.
The pique left her face and a small smile took its place. “Yes, sir.”
“How did you get out?”
“I left a gallon of my blood in the room, used a torn sheet to bind
myself as good as I could, and somehow made my way to the rendezvous point. Funny thing, because the trip was rather a blur.”
“That’s just your warped humor talking.”
“There is that.”
“Now what?”
“I’m done.”
“Done?”
“Discharged from a job I never had. They won’t be calling on me again.”
“What are you going to do with all your free time?”
Monroe’s hand smoothed down Angel’s arm and traveled over her breast. She was wearing one of her long nightgowns but he had no trouble finding her nipple. “Restore old cars, maybe take an extended vacation. Then, a little of this and a little of that.” He applied slight pressure to the nipple between his fingers.
Zach’s hold tightened on her feet but then loosened. Somehow he had to give this a chance.
“Do you mind getting us a drink?” Monroe’s voice was beyond weary.
Zach didn’t speak, just stood, and walked to the sideboard to pour them each a shot. Carrying the bottle, he sat it on the table closest to Monroe. Then he resumed his seat on the couch, bringing Angel’s feet back into his lap.
The burn felt good and the whisky helped sooth his nerves.
Monroe’s exhaustion was apparent in every part of his body.
Another glass was poured, and Zach noticed the shaking of Monroe’s hand around the bottle.
“Last one, Monroe. You need rest.”
“I do.” He sounded grumpy. “Pet, I think it would be best if you slept with Zach.”
Her hands clenched. “Please, master.”
Zach felt like an idiot, but he said it anyway.
“No, she needs to be with you tonight.”
Monroe ignored him, and instead lifted Angel’s chin.
“This isn’t a request. I need sleep, and with my injury, I’ve been uncomfortable. When it’s better, I’ll be taking care of the slight problem you’re having in obeying my commands.”
Zach’s hands clenched at the heartbreak he knew she was feeling, but if Monroe wanted to be a fool, then he’d damned well take advantage. He watched as Monroe placed a light kiss on her forehead before pushing her away.
Monroe rose from the couch but immediately stumbled. When Zach reached to help, Monroe gave him that famous stony stare and Zach backed away. He took Angel’s hand and turned his back on his friend.
He could tell she was angry but he ignored her mood in favor of sleep. There would be plenty of time to work on their problems tomorrow.
The stiff set of her shoulders didn’t keep him from pulling her into his chest. He closed his eyes and, a short time later, he felt her relax.
Chapter Thirty-one
The jerking of her body woke him a few hours later. She was speaking Arabic in her sleep, but, in any language, her terror was evident. Suddenly, she struck out, her arms and legs flying. Then the screams began.
Zach managed to turn on the light before struggling to contain her, but one of her hands went to her face and scratched a deep gouge down her cheek.
“It’s me, Angel! I’ve got you! Wake up!”
She seemed beyond the sound of his voice as she continued to thrash out of control. From the corner of his eye, he saw the door open to reveal Monroe.
“Here, tie her hands and secure them over her head. Then get her legs.”
Monroe handed over two skeins of rope, then levered his chest across hers, compressing the air from her lungs as she was secured. Her terrified screams didn’t let up even when Zach knew she was having difficulty breathing.
“Hold her tight, Zach.” Monroe covered her nose and mouth with his hand, cutting off her incoming supply of air.
She fought harder. Her eyes were crazed, and reminded Zach of nothing so much as a panicked, captured animal.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Zach demanded.
Monroe ignored him. He let his hand slip off her nose at the same time as he pinched her nostrils closed with his other hand. He grasped her jaw hard, covering her mouth with his. He forced air into her lungs, then covered her mouth again with his hand.
His lips went close to her ear.
“Love, it’s me,” he said, in a low but firm voice. “I’m going to breathe for you.”
He uncovered her mouth and Zach could see the strain of muscles on Monroe’s back when he pressed down on her chest again, allowing the previous air to leave her lungs. Then his mouth covered hers and her chest expanded once more.
He repeated the process several times. Her arms relaxed, but Zach wasn’t sure if it was a lack of oxygen or if she was coming back to them.
“It’s both,” Monroe said, never taking his eyes off of Angel as he answered the question Zach didn’t even realize he’d spoken aloud.
“Has it been this bad before?”
“Yes. When she first came here, but once she began sleeping in my bed, the dreams came less often, and less severe.”
“Did you even think about warning me?”
“Obviously, this didn’t happen while I was away.”
Monroe’s mouth covered hers again, breathing into her lungs. The crystal-blue eyes peering back at them went dreamy, but Zach could tell she was finally aware of them. Her eyes blinked, and tears began traveling down her face.
“Shhh, love,” Monroe whispered. “We’re here.”
Her head nodded slightly up and down. The hands holding her mouth and nose released, and Monroe’s head lowered. This time his mouth met hers in one of the most sensual kisses Zach had ever seen.
Zack began removing the ropes from her legs, and then moved up the bed to her hands while Monroe placed light kisses to her face and neck, his hands caressed her body, stroking her gently.
“Just breathe, love,” Monroe said, smiling down at her as he stroked her face. “I’m going to take you to my bed—”
But the stricken look on Angel’s face brought Monroe up short, and he glanced at Zach anxiously.
“Zach can come with us,” Monroe said. “My bed is big enough for all of us.”
Zach couldn’t help his scowl; he wasn’t sure what Monroe had in mind, but the idea of sharing a bed with him, even to comfort Angel, made him anxious. Then he saw the way her whole body relaxed at Monroe’s suggestion, and he pushed his own misgivings aside. She needed them both, and he would do anything for her right now.
“Can you carry her, Zach?”
Monroe stood and moved out of the way. Zach came around and picked her up, pulling her face against his chest, and carried her out of the room to Monroe’s bed.
Placing her gently on the sheets, Zach wondered what in the hell he was doing. He should just turn and go. But the sight and sound of her terror had shaken him badly, and he couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her.
Monroe walked into the bathroom and then came back with a damp hand towel.
“Close your eyes, love. I need to wash the scratch on your face.”
Zack watched, marveling that the hands that were lethal in a fight and amazing with rope, could be so incredibly gentle as they cared for the woman both men loved.
Zach didn’t want to be here. He had to get out of the room. He actually took a step toward the door but Monroe’s voice stopped him.
“Zach, don’t be an ass. I need sleep, and she needs the security of having us both here. With Angel between us, and being exhausted in the bargain, I think I can keep my hands to myself.”
Zach detected a slight sense of warning in Monroe’s words. Taking a deep breath, he turned around and crawled in beside Angel. Now he could get a better look at the puffy, ragged line running down her face. She did not open her eyes, only breathed softly and steadily.
Zach placed his hand on her stomach and ignored Monroe’s low grunt. He needed to touch her, and Monroe needed to back off.
“I never said I would keep my hands to myself.” Zach’s words lightened the thick tension in the room.
Monroe finished up and returned the rag to the bathroom. He c
rawled into the bed, pulling the sheet up and over them. His arm went under Angel’s head and he smoothed away the tangled hair from her face. “What was your dream about, love?”
“It was the same.” Her eyes remained closed, and her voice was soft and sleepy.
“Go to sleep. Zachery and I will keep you safe.”
Zach adjusted the pillow beneath his head, keeping his hand over her stomach. He wondered about the nightmare. He’d experienced a small part of the horror she’d lived, but he had no idea of the true extent of her suffering. Obviously, Monroe knew.
It took a while for his thoughts to stop racing and sleep to finally grab hold. His last thoughts were of Monroe’s mouth on Angel’s. If Zach removed the image of Angel’s terrified eyes when Monroe began breathing for her, it was one of the most erotic things Zach ever witnessed.
He fell asleep with a stiff cock.
Chapter Thirty-two
It was early and Angel lay curled up on her side, spooned into his body. The other side of the bed was empty. Zach disentangled himself and went to find Monroe.
It was time to talk.
When the usual places failed, he went into the den. Monroe sat in his large overstuffed chair drinking from a half-filled tumbler. He didn’t acknowledge Zach, just brought the glass to his slightly swollen lip, and took a deep drink, draining the glass.
“I know it’s five o’clock somewhere, but even for you, this is a little excessive.”
“I will agree with you.”
“Are you in pain?”
That laugh, the one that vibrated throughout Zach’s body, was his answer.
“Do you mind if I ask how much you’ve had?”
“Not enough.”
This was not the Monroe Zach knew. The man was birthed from an alien life form, maybe the combination of Mr. and Mrs. Spock.
Zach sat in the other chair and decided to keep quiet. He rested his head back against the plush material and let his eyelids fall shut. Through the years he’d realized being close to Monroe was an exercise in patience.
“She loves you,” Monroe said finally.
“You knew how I felt about her.”
“That’s why I kept tabs on her. Did she tell you about her friend?”
“You mean the one who killed herself? Yes, she told me.”
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