“Ugly hole,” Vance muttered. He pulled off his black jacket and ripped the sleeve from his white shirt. After shoving it against the bleeding shoulder wound and getting cursed again, he looked at Kim. “You able to keep pressure on this?”
She nodded, ignoring the pain in her head.
“Good enough.”
Galen appeared, leaning heavily on his cane. He had jackets under his arm and tossed one over Kim’s shoulders and another over Master R’s legs. “That might keep you from being dumped into the slammer.”
“Whoa!” A yell came from nearby. “Looks like this mother’s not going anywhere. His skull’s cracked like an eggshell.”
A younger deputy at the top of the stairs reversed course, his face green. I know the feeling, Kim thought. Along with the painful throbbing, her head kept replaying that shattering sound. She tried to swallow.
A firm grip on her knee got her attention. “Carino? Are you all right?”
She smiled down into Master R’s worried brown eyes. “I love you.”
With an FBI jacket over his shoulders, Sam worked his way back into the ballroom, shoving past a cop and the buyer he’d threatened earlier.
“Hey! Arrest him too. He was whipping a slave,” the asshole shouted.
The police officer frowned at Sam, then the jacket he wore. “Wait one minute, please.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket, flipped to a set of thumbnail photos. Sam saw his own face, Kim’s, and Raoul’s. The cop nodded politely at him and gave the slaver a push. “Let’s go, you.”
Sam shook his head. The two feebies had definitely tried to make sure their civilian undercover people were safe. Holding the blanket he’d found, he headed back to Linda. An FBI agent with a bolt cutter had just gotten her unchained from the long cable.
Sam scowled. That was inefficient at best. “You know,” he told the agent, “if you could locate the asshole called the Overseer or Dahmer, he’d probably have master keys.”
“You seen him?”
“Maybe the kitchen or upstairs. He’s not in the ballroom.”
The feebie motioned for a uniform. “Get a description from this man and find the Overseer guy. Try the kitchen first, then upstairs.”
Sam filled the cop in and turned to his woman. “Linda.” He kept his eyes on her.
She stiffened, her gaze on the floor. Embarrassed.
He stepped forward and wrapped her in the blanket.
The agent with the bolt cutters was working on the next woman’s chain. He looked up. “Hey, where’d the blanket come from?”
“There’s a stack in the closet by the front door.” Sam pulled the blanket more securely around Linda.
Streaks of red appeared on her cheeks. She stared stubbornly at the floor. Dammit.
“Look at me,” he growled.
Her eyes lifted. Pretty, pretty brown, then down again.
“They’re going to take you all to a ward in the hospital where the docs can check you out. The feebies will be doing interviews. I doubt they’ll let me in to see you.” His jaw hardened when she didn’t answer. Unease tightened his gut, flattened his voice. “Give me a way to contact you.”
Her chin jerked up, and she gave him a stunned look of revulsion. “No. Never.” She took a step back from him. “I never want to see you again.” Another step back. Her lush mouth had flattened in a tight line.
He saw her shiver and knew she feared reprisal for the rudeness, but her determination to keep him away had been enough to risk it. He could read her as clearly as if he’d been in her head.
The agent dealing with the next slave over frowned.
This wasn’t the time to push. He’d made a hell of a mistake with her, going with the scene dynamics, and not taking into account the rest of the world. “All right. My name is Sam. When… If you want to reach me, ask at the Shadowlands here in Tampa.” He hesitated. “Be well, Linda.”
She looked away.
They’d taken Master R from her, said they were airlifting him to a hospital. Kim had watched, still unable to stand, unable to do anything except shiver.
He was gone. She was alone. The memories of shattering, blood, and screaming kept surging forward in waves, twisting her stomach. If she could manage to get to her feet, maybe she could… Where would she go?
“Hey, what’re you doing here?” a cop asked brusquely and tried to yank her up. She yelped and grabbed her ribs. The Overseer had gotten in a good punch. He stopped pulling but didn’t let go. “You slaves are supposed to all be in the ballroom until-”
“They’re not slaves, now are they?” A cold, gravelly voice. Kim looked up as Master Sam walked over. “Last time I looked, slavery was outlawed in this country.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry, sir.” The cop released her and took a step away. “Um-” Sam moved in front of the officer and knelt. “Are you all right, Kim?”
“My master.” Her mind blanked on the name. “My…my Master R. I need to go there.”
Sam didn’t answer, just wrapped the blanket he held around her and over the black jacket she wore. When did she get a jacket? Her thoughts stuttered, started forward again. If her head would just stop
“That’s better.” His hand cupped her chin before she could dodge. After turning her face to each side, he examined the lump at the back of her head. Pain burst behind her eyeballs. He frowned at the blood on his fingers. “You’re banged up, girl.”
“My master. I need to go to-”
“Stop.” He made an exasperated sound. “Dan arranged for us to go to the hospital with the first bunch of women. We’ll get you seen by a doc, and you can see Raoul.”
She nodded, taking it in, although her mind seemed to be awfully slow.
Maybe he realized, since he didn’t move. “You’re not tracking too good, are you?”
He’d take her to Master R. “I’m fine.” The floor insisted on moving in waves, upsetting her balance.
“She’s okay. She’ll get processed with the rest. Galen wouldn’t make an exception in her case.” Sam wrapped an arm around her.
She tried to jerk away, and he waited, not releasing her. As she saw his pale blue eyes, she remembered. Master R’s friend. “Sorry, Sir.”
He simply smiled and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
Halfway down, she saw… She fought from Sam’s grip, bent, and picked up a black collar. And fell forward.
With a curse, Sam grabbed her and yanked her back upright. “What the hell are you doing, girl?”
She ran her fingers over the leather, the silver engraving. Her grip tightened when he tried to take it. “Mine.”
Instead of fighting her, he turned the collar in her hands so he could read the writing.
Chapter Sixteen
Raoul opened his eyes and frowned. Bed with shiny metal railings, white walls, Marcus sitting in a chair.
