Chapter 22 #2
Bear chased after him.
With a slam of the door, the sadist disappeared outside. There was a yell of pain.
A woman shouted, “Ha, got you!”
Bear reached the back door as MacKensie and Hope walked through it. They dragged the sadist behind them. By the feet.
He appeared only half-conscious.
Ray stared at them, confused, as the two women got applause and whistles.
Simon asked, “Has someone called the police?”
Alex held up his phone. “They’re on the way. I also called the chief of investigations and explained this mess. She said she’ll be sure we get the right detectives.”
Thank goodness.
Seeing Ray, Hope charged across the room and dropped to her knees. “Ray, are you hurt? Are you okay? Did we get here in time?”
“What—what are you doing here? You and Mac are supposed to be at the condo.”
“Ha. As if we’d let you and the men take all the risk.” Hope leaned forward, half-pulling her out of Drake’s arms to hug her.
“Whoa, whoa, I can’t breathe.”
“Are you hurt?” Hope eased back and looked Ray over. “I cannot believe you came in here even knowing we got stuck in traffic, and you’d have no backup.”
Ray actually grinned. “I cannot believe you and MacKensie were out there in the dark, staking out the back door. Good job!” She high-fived Hope.
MacKensie kicked the tattooed sadist on her way past to get her own high-five and lean down for a hug. “It felt really good to hit one of them.”
Standing nearby, Alex nodded approval of his violent woman. Okay then.
Ray leaned against Drake again, heard the pleased rumble he made, then asked, “Is Marisol okay? At the hospital?”
“Yes and yes,” Simon said.
“I’m so glad.” Ray sagged in relief. Marisol was safe. I got her out before…anything. I didn’t escape before, but with this attack… It was almost as if she’d saved her younger self. “Was she conscious?”
“Confused and fighting off and on. It’s why I had to help Rona get her to the hospital rather than stay with Drake.” Simon went down on one knee to talk. “Rona stayed at the hospital with her. But she texted the girl will be all right but will be in the hospital overnight.”
“Rona was here?”
Simon’s mouth twitched in a smile. “She voiced the same sentiments as Hope and MacKensie about remaining behind. Perhaps slightly politer.”
Oh, I bet. Ray couldn’t believe she actually felt like laughing at this point. But she soooo wished to have seen the argument. Three stubborn submissives, three overprotective Doms.
And they all came here. To help.
Her eyes burned with tears. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all.”
“You’re welcome, lass. And you did very well.” Turning to Drake, Simon frowned. “Is your sleeve wet…or bloody?”
Ray pulled away and stared at his dark shirt. “Rambo shot at us. The bullet hit you?”
Holding out his arm, Drake fingered the rip in his shirt. “Pfft, merely a graze. The bleeding has almost stopped.” He pulled her back against him.
With a tsking sound, Simon pulled a tie from his pants pocket and bound it around Drake’s arm.
“Glad you’re all right, girl,” Bear murmured as he joined them. He jerked his chin toward the two she’d drugged. “What happened to them? Too much alcohol?”
“I found their date-rape drugs in a safe box and made them special drinks.” She eyed the others who were fighting the zip ties Alex and Simon had used. “It’s a shame there aren’t more vials to give the rest a good time too.”
“A woman after my own heart.” The corners of Drake’s eyes crinkled.
Simon and Bear laughed…and then sirens sounded.
The police procedures seemed to take forever, but finally there was a scene she’d never forget.
The seven dregs of humanity arrested. In handcuffs.
Hellboy and Bourne, the two she’d drugged, were awake and able to stagger out. Obviously the doses were calculated for smaller women.
Walking bow-legged—so gratifying—Conan had a broken nose, and his shaved head sported a swollen welt.
Rambo, now conscious, sported a purple swollen area on his head where Drake had kicked him.
The tattooed sadist couldn’t stand up straight. She was guessing broken ribs.
Savage also had an arm across his ribs as well as pulped lips.
Best of all, Mr. Impeccably Dressed Blaize was a scruffy, bloody mess and still not able to walk.
Most of the pond scum would need to be seen at a hospital. And then…then they’d go to jail.
In the future, when the nightmares returned, she’d present her memory with this picture.
Hours later, they returned to Drake’s condo and settled down with drinks and finger foods. Unfortunately, her jaw was so sore, it was hard to eat. Rona had made a sympathetic sound and made up a cloth-wrapped plastic bag of ice to help the swelling.
As she relaxed, she was discovering all sorts of sore spots. Her throat, the back of her head, her hands and knees from landing on the floor. Drake had seen her pull up her pant legs to poke at her knees and chuckled. “We’ll both be moving stiffly tomorrow.”
She could only imagine. His poor back from being hit by the chair. His knuckles were swollen too.
Although the rest of the group was enjoying beers and wine, Ray hadn’t wanted any alcohol, just pure water. Her mouth was dry from having repeated her story so many times for the police.
The whole night had been purely horrible, especially Drake getting shot. But now, she leaned against him, taking comfort from the feeling of his warm, hard body against hers, from his slow inhalations, even from his clean woodsy scent. It all wove around her in a feeling of security, of caring.
Drake was such a protector. Her heart was growing too full to contain all her feelings for him. He’d thrown himself in front of a gun to keep her safe.
From the way his arm tightened around her at intervals, he bore his own moments of remembering how close to death they’d been.
Blaize and Savage hadn’t ended their phones’ recordings, and she’d pointed them out to the police. Talk about damning themselves on film.
A minute before the police arrived, Alex had retrieved Ray’s phone from Blaize’s car—and it reminded her of Simon’s camstick. She’d put on her jacket and tucked it into her pocket. Their own record of what happened.
In the safety of Drake’s condo, the group watched the recording. She got approving comments of her acting ability. Cheers when Hellboy passed out.
When Rambo started shooting, she started to shiver…until Bear’s football commentator critique of Drake’s tackle reduced her to giggles.
Mac and Hope thoroughly enjoyed watching themselves drag in the sadist.
With a sigh, Peter shook his head at Hope. “Way to take ten years off my life.” He turned the video off and shook his head. “Their own words eliminate any doubt they’ve done this before.”
“From what they said, the idiots recorded their other assaults.” Drake smiled slightly. “The detective plans to get a search warrant and find those recordings. On the way here, I called in a favor with a judge to get the warrant expedited. She takes a hard line on sexual assault.”
“This would’ve been a mess if all we had was he said/she said.” Bear sprawled in an armchair, legs up on an ottoman. “They’d say they didn’t know anything about drugs. Would say you asked for it. Would drag you through the court system—especially since you drugged a couple of them.”
“And Marisol wouldn’t remember enough to be a valid witness,” Hope added in a grim voice.
“You did a great job tonight, Ray.” Rona shook her head. “You made it clear you were saying no and even got them mentioning previous assaults with drugs.”
“Without the recordings…” Drake’s arm around her tightened. “…there would be several ways they’d get this thrown out in court.”
“To be honest, if there wasn’t enough evidence, I was of the mind to do something to get them off the street,” Bear said. “My daughters will be in college in three years.”
“I know what you mean. I might have been able to monitor them to some extent, but it certainly wouldn’t have been twenty-four/seven.” Simon’s gaze was hard. “Killing them would eliminate the problem.”
Ray straightened. “Whoa, too far.”
Bear laughed. “My solution was less final. You know what we do to ram lambs if they’re not good enough to keep for breeding?”
“You mean neutering or…no, it’s called castrating?” Simon raised his eyebrows.
“Yep.” The sheep rancher glanced toward the street. “As it happens, I even had the right tool in the truck. Was a shame I didn’t get to use it.”
Ray felt her eyes widen. Talk about bloodthirsty males. Although tempting… “I guess it’s good we have plenty of documentation.”
She turned to Rona. “And Marisol?”
“The hospital’s keeping her overnight to make sure there are no complications. She’s still not tracking too well. But her mother is with her.”
“I didn’t think to ask you, Rona. Did you tell anyone where you found her?” Peter asked.
“No. I said I got lost on my way back from a restaurant, and she staggered out in front of me and collapsed.” Rona assumed an angelic expression. “Her shirt was half-ripped off, and she’s even younger than my children. Being a mom, I couldn’t drive away and leave her there.”
Ray smiled. In all reality, the caring, determined woman would do the same if she had seen a young woman in Marisol’s condition on the street. “You are awesome.”
Rona dimpled. “Back at you, Wonder Woman.”
“I love how you drugged two of them—and damn, you can fight,” MacKensie said.
Hope grinned. “My kickass buddy. You go, girl!”
Hitting the bastards—especially Blaize—had been seriously rewarding. And huh, I did kick some ass.
In fact, after this, facing off against other submissives should be a piece of cake.
The disaster was averted, the talking was done, and now Drake had his woman in his arms, all soft and sleepy.
“I missed you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over her hair.
“Me, too, you.” She pulled in a breath, snuggling closer.
Her bare skin was smooth and silky, with an intriguing woodsy-lemon scent. She’d obviously discovered his present in the bathroom—a basket from Pike Place Market with bath soap samples in different fragrances.
Because she loved matching a scent to her mood.
“What soap did you choose? Why this one?” Someday, perhaps, he’d be able to tell if she was sad or happy from her scent.
“It’s a hinoki-based soap. Um, Japanese cypress. It kind of made me feel like I was home.”
Of course, she would love a scent that reminded her of George and WoodSong. She’d been a lost teenager finding safety and acceptance for the first time.
He stroked her arm. “I hope someday you’ll find the same comfort with me.”
“I do.” Raising up enough to kiss him, she smiled. “And vice versa. Your childhood was worse than mine in a lot of ways.” She sighed and wrinkled her nose. “I’m still sorry about running away to the beach.”
“It is in the past. And next time we stumble over triggers, we’ll know to talk it out.”
She sighed. “When I help Marisol find a counselor, I think I’ll find one for me too. I know the criticism from Pa and Theodore and others makes me over-react sometimes. And I have trouble facing someone in confrontation stuff. I just kinda…run.”
“Understandable.” And something he’d have to be careful about. “It’s a reflex you’ll overcome now you are aware of it.”
“I guess. This time I’ll talk to the counselor about my childhood. And try to be open about the BDSM part of my assault back then.”
He hugged her, giving her a physical reward for her courage. “Tres bien. If you want me to join you for some sessions, I will.”
Her eyes popped open. “Really?”
“Oui. Bear in mind, ma chérie, since the counselor must have all the information she needs to help you, if you aren’t open about what happened, I will discipline you until you are.”
She froze, even her breathing stopping.
And he studied her, waiting for her to process his pushing her in this way. Usurping a bit of her independence for her own good. It was what some submissives refused and others craved.
“You’re such a Dom.” Her tone was cranky, even as she melted against him. And whispered, “Thank you.”