“God, Zachary, I need…” Sandie ended the plea on a gasp when he delved between her legs and thrust several fingers inside her already quivering vagina. “Yes! Please, don’t stop.”
Cries from the other two women reverberated around the room, either from pain or pleasure, it was difficult to differentiate between the two. Then Zachary replaced his fingers with the full length of his thick cock, filling her in one deep, womb-bumping surge. Between the throbbing fire enveloping her butt, the pressure against her aching nipples and his jackhammer pounding inside her, she couldn’t hold back. Grunts mingled with her keening cry as she splintered apart, the darkness behind her closed lids lighting up with fireworks of colorful pleasure she never tired of feeling.
An eerie sensation crept down Victoria’s spine as she inched her way down the darkened stairs. A week had passed, and she now knew her daughter was in grave danger from her husband. How could she have been so stupid? She’d been asking herself that for days, beating herself up over the jeopardy she’d inadvertently put Cassandra in by dwelling on her own selfish needs for far too long. Life wouldn’t be worth living if she were responsible for her child’s death, and she no longer doubted Jacques wanted her dead.
She’d only managed to sneak in to replace the battery on the listening device once since she’d hidden it, but what it recorded turned her blood cold. Listening to the man she’d lived with, slept with and bore a child with speak of killing her beautiful daughter in such a cold, controlled voice had sent her on a nauseous dash into the bathroom. At least no one had witnessed that frightening response and questioned her. Right now, she’d take every kernel of good luck she could get.
One dim light in the entry guided her path down the short hall to Jacques’ office. With a clammy hand, she turned the knob, exhaled in relief at finding it unlocked and prayed Jacques had uttered the names of the men he’d sent after Cassandra so she could finally leave this God-awful place. She didn’t know why her nerves were out of control with jitters. Everyone had gone for the day and her husband wouldn’t be back before early morning, at least she’d been counting on him sticking to his usual schedule when he left for another clandestine meeting. She should find the quietness soothing, but instead, she sidled across the moon-washed room with one eye searching out the pitch-black corners, as if seeking an intruder other than herself.
Lifting the small pot, she snatched the recorder, closed her hand in a fist, darted back toward the exit and smack dab against a tall, rock-hard body. A cry of pure terror wrenched from her throat, her attempt to step away thwarted by two steely arms caging her in. A big hand took hold of her tight-fisted grip on the recorder followed by a deep voice she recognized with a jolt of shock. “Best give that to me, Mrs. Deveau.”
Her alarmed gaze shot up and collided with the dark eyes of their chef. Dread curdled her abdomen as she whispered in a tremulous voice of disbelief, “Marchand?”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe, but we need to get out of here. Pack only what you need for a few days and let’s go.”
Victoria tripped behind him as he all but hauled her back upstairs, finding his way with unerring accuracy in the dark. “What’s going on? Why… Marchand, what are you doing?”
Holding up the minute tape recorder, he stated, “Saving your ass and hoping you’ve got something on here we can use to take down your husband. He’s on his way home, so I suggest you get moving. I’m leaving here, with you, in two minutes.”
It took hearing Jacques was on his way back to galvanize her into action. Pulling a small, over-night case out of the closet, she tossed in a few essentials as she asked over her shoulder, “How do I know…”
“I’m ABI, undercover, now get your ass in gear and let’s go.”
Alabama Bureau of Investigations? Good grief, would the revelations of what had been happening in her home right under her blind eyes never end?
Chapter 15
“Sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?” Zachary asked Sandie for about the tenth time since they’d awoken that morning. Rolling her eyes, she unclenched one hand from the tight grip of his buttock to deliver a sharp pinch.
“I took care of myself on the run for a month, I can handle being locked in your top-notch, security-safe penthouse for two hours.”
Reaching behind him, he removed her hand then swatted her thigh. “Don’t remind me. You should’ve snuck aboard my yacht long before you did. And, just because there’s now concrete proof of your stepfather’s actions against you, doesn’t mean you’re safe. They’re still working on his indictment. You were right, he has some powerful friends.”
Sandie still couldn’t believe her needy, dependent mother had come through for her, literally saving the day by having the guts to record Jacques. According to the undercover agent ensconced at the house as a chef, the recordings Victoria caught on tape of Jacques’ conversations were a gold mine of evidence. After hearing from Troy yesterday that the Alabama Bureau of Investigations had contacted him again, informing him of the changes in their case, they’d asked for her to return and add her testimony. With corroborating proof, it would no longer be hearsay against a man with influential connections.
Tightening her arms around Zachary’s broad shoulders, the only thing marring her excitement over being able to return home was wondering where it would leave them. A pang clutched her chest every time she thought of never seeing him again, never feeling his hard body possessing hers and or hear another ridiculous, asinine comment, like she should’ve stowed away on his boat sooner.
“If we’re still starting the drive back to Alabama later this morning, you better get going. I’ll shower and finish getting my things together while you go for your run.” His insistence on driving her back in his car and staying with her until Jacques was in custody warmed the coldness leaving had spread through her. At this point, she’d take whatever time he allotted her, and try not to think about the future or how she’d return to vanilla relationships after experiencing the heights Zachary’s alternative sexual practices could take her. “We still need to sell my car before we leave. You’re right, I won’t be able to get many more miles out of it. It was in poor condition when I traded for it.” Sandie had left her dilapidated vehicle at Hope’s shelter when she’d fled to Pensacola, hoping that by taking the bus she could eliminate another connection to her.
He stiffened a moment then kissed her with hard possessiveness before rolling off her. “Another thing that doesn’t bear thinking about. Leave the door locked. I won’t be gone long.” He sauntered across the bedroom and into the bathroom without a backward glance. But that was okay, Sandie decided, as she never tired of eyeing that taut backside. She waited until he came out, watched as he slipped on a pair of loose gym shorts, tee and running shoes then wiggled her fingers goodbye as he strode out of the bedroom with a wave.
Sliding out of bed, she winced at the slight soreness between her legs, but relished the lingering ache across her buttocks. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d enjoy a hard spanking or turning over sexual control to a man. The one burning question left unanswered was whether Zachary brought out these strange responses or if they stemmed from her perilous circumstances.
“That’s him, boss.”
Jacques Deveau watched the tall, sandy haired man trot across the street toward the park. “Are you sure, Clifford? I can’t afford any more screw ups.” The minute his contact at the bureau told him what his wife had done, Jacques knew he had to get out of town. He still couldn’t believe Victoria had had the guts to slip a recorder in his office, let alone testify against him. Of course, without the tape, she’d have nothing, he’d made sure of that over the years. He’d been diligent about keeping his side business a secret, but admitted he’d made a huge mistake in letting down his guard with what he said behind the closed doors of his office.
“We’re both sure,” Joe added from his seat behind the wheel of the van. “You lure her out here, and I’ll get us away, no problem
.”
“See that you’re both ready.”
Hopping out, he strode into the towering high-rise, fuming at the trouble that started with his stepdaughter. The girl had been a thorn in his side for the entire ten years of his marriage and he’d let his feelings for her mother keep him from ridding himself of her prickly presence. He may have just lost everything he had here in the states, including his freedom, but he’d be damned if he high-tailed it overseas to a nice, cozy island sanctuary that didn’t have extradition to the United States without making her pay for the trouble she’d caused. Losing Victoria would be the hardest part of leaving, and he intended to let Cassandra pay for that by giving Joe and Clifford a little time with her before he personally took her out.
With his private jet ready to whisk him out of the feds’ reach, time was of the essence. Planning ahead for the security he knew a place like this would be sure to have, he strolled up to the gleaming wood receptionist counter with a confident smile. “Good morning. I’d like to send a message up to your penthouse suite, if I may.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like me to call up…”
“Oh, I need to get going. I don’t have my niece’s phone number, I just want to leave her a message to get in touch with me while I’m in town. Do you have someone to run it up?” He handed over a sealed envelope with a note, he hoped, would send Cassandra running down to him.
“No problem.” Waving to a young man wearing a similar uniform, she called out, “Dennis, can you deliver this message to the penthouse suite? Thank you.”
Jacques waited until he saw the other man step into the elevator before nodding his thanks and returning to the front of the building. Standing to the side of the door, he held his breath, hoping this worked. If not, he’d be forced to leave without getting the retribution he deserved.
Sandie thanked the courier, closed the door and opened the small white envelope with a shaking hand. Her real name written on the front jumped out at her, causing her stomach to cramp with a coil of fear. The only people in Miami who knew her name was Cassandra were Zachary and his friends, and she had implicit trust in them. Pulling the note out, her legs turned to jelly and threatened to crumple under her as she read Jacques’ threat. He had Zachary? Would kill him if she didn’t meet him out front in three minutes? Her entire body turned to a block of ice as she read the description of what Zachary was wearing. Without thought, she dashed out of the apartment and down the hall to the elevator, her mind churning with memories, her throat clogged with desperate fear that rivaled what she’d felt fleeing a murder scene all those weeks ago.
Please, God, please, please, please, she chanted in her head over and over as she trembled in nauseous agony on the slow ride down. She didn’t care what happened to her, what Jacques had planned, her only concern, her only fear was for Zachary, the man who had taken her to unbelievable heights of ecstasy then come to her rescue after saying he would be glad to be rid of her. The man she just realized she was crazy in love with.