Bound by the Past (23 page)

“She wouldn’t keep the sensitive information here. She’s too savvy,” Night said, slamming down a file, unable to hide his frustration.

“It’ll be in the south wing. Her private offices. But it’s heavily guarded. More secure than Fort Knox.” Carly was certain any damning evidence would be there.

“Are you allowed back there as part of your secretarial work?” Night asked.

She shook her head. “Hell no.”

“Fuck.” Jon rubbed his eyes wearily. “There’s no way we can get in there tonight. We need time to hatch a plan, to gain Cassandra’s trust.”

Carly understood the desolation in his tone. “That’s not going to happen quickly.”

“We need to get you back to your room, Carly. Now.” Night reached for her hand and she took it. Quietly, quickly, the three of them cautiously traversed the way she’d come until they reached her room. Once there, Night and Jon stepped inside the small space with her and shut the door behind them. She knew they wouldn’t stay long.

Reaching out, Night stepped into her embrace, engulfing her in a strong bear hug that warmed her despite the chill in her room and her soul. Terror and panic were taking over, though she fought to keep both at bay. It wouldn’t do for either man to see how frightened she was.

“It’s going to be okay, Carly,” Night murmured.

Shit. Could he tell she was falling apart? She needed to get her act together. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. She could do this. She
had
to do this.

“I know.” She pulled out of Night’s arms. “I need you to promise me something.”

Night looked at Jon. In any other circumstance, she didn’t doubt they’d give her the moon on a silver platter. But here? Now? There was no denying they were afraid of what she’d request.

“What is it?”

“Do what has to be done to buy us the time we need to save these women.”

He shook his head.

Jon wasn’t as calm or as quiet. “Fuck no. If it means hurting you, Carly—”

“Then do it.”

Neither man responded. From the set expressions on their faces, it was clear they’d never give her this oath. Somehow she had to convince them.

“Where do you guys see this going?”

She could tell they were both confused by her question.

“What?” Jon asked.

“Where do you see our relationship going?”

“It’s not a fling, Carly. I told you that. We want something more lasting.” Night’s tone made it clear he didn’t like that she was still questioning their future.

“And is trust a part of a lasting relationship?”

Jon didn’t respond immediately. He knew her better than Night and he was obviously sensing a trap even if he couldn’t see it. “I trust you, Carly.”

She reached out and took his hand in hers. “And I trust you, Jon. Both of you. Completely. You’ve been trained well, right?”

“In pain, yes.” Jon spoke through gritted teeth.

“And pleasure. I know that’s true because I’ve felt it. Felt the heat from your hand when you spanked my ass. The burn left from your fingers when you pinched my nipples. It hurts. But I love it.”

Night sank down heavily on the edge of her bed. “This will be different.”

She shook her head. “No. It’ll just be new. Something we haven’t done before. We’ll play our parts. You’ll use those deep, scary Dom voices and I’ll cry out in pain and beg you to stop. But it’ll all be an act.”

Jon tightened his grip on her hand. “You’ve never felt a whip against your skin.”

“No. But there’s trust between us. You know my responses, you can read them. I’ve seen that. You’ll know what my limits are. Meanwhile, we’ll all put on a good show. I’ll even have a safe word. Something innocuous that will tell you I can’t tolerate it. Um…what about
enough
? That’s easily used without drawing suspicion, but won’t slip out unbidden if I’m out of my head or something. If I use that in a sentence, you’ll know it’s too much for me.”

“Carly—” Jon started.

“I won’t use it unless it’s unbearable.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Please, Jon. Please.”

Jon was silent long enough to give Carly hope that she’d gotten through to him.

Night broke the quiet when he slammed his hand against her bed. “You aren’t seriously thinking of going through with this, Jon?”

Jon turned to him. “What choice do we have? You were the one determined to come in here. To save these women. To bring Cassandra to justice. Do we turn back now before we’ve even tried?”

“I was wrong. So fucking wrong. You can’t go back to what you were before. You’re not that man anymore, Jon.”

“Neither are you. So we go in there and do what we’ve always done best. We look out for each other. And Carly. I know you won’t let me lose myself in that darkness again, Night.”

Night stood. Carly took his hand with her free one, pulling the three of them close together. “I won’t let either of you disappear. I promise,” she whispered.

Night nodded, but didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. She read the determination in his gaze. He’d walk through hellfire before he let any danger come to Jon and Carly.

Her warriors.

None of them spoke again. Instead, they sealed the vow, each of them giving Carly one last sweet, beautiful kiss before they snuck out of the room and she was alone once again.

Carly had no more than closed her eyes when there was a knock on her door. She blinked rapidly, surprised to see the daylight peeking through the blinds. She’d tossed and turned so long after Night and Jon left that she suspected she hadn’t managed more than an hour’s sleep. A quick glance at the clock proved it was still very early. Not quite eight a.m.

“Yes?” she called out, wondering who could be outside the door.

“Ms. James. I require your assistance immediately.”

Carly’s blood ran cold at the sound of Cassandra’s voice. She fought to regulate her breathing. Shit. She was too tired for this.

“Coming.”

She struggled to force some semblance of alert calmness into her fuzzy head. Pulling a robe around her, she opened the door a few inches.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Thomas?”

“Come with me,” Cassandra said, stepping back as if she intended for Carly to move immediately.

“I’m not dressed. If you’ll give me a few minutes to—”

“You’re fine as you are.”

Carly started to protest, hoping to buy herself some time to wake more fully, to figure out a way to put the insane woman off. “But I’m barefoot. I’m really not comfortable—”

“I don’t care about your comfort.” Cassandra pushed the door opened fully, forcing Carly back a step. It was then she realized there were two armed guards behind Cassandra, both staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Come with us now.”

“Is everything okay?” Carly struggled to sound like a confused employee, fought to play her role without raising the woman’s suspicions.

“Everything is exactly as it should be.” Cassandra roughly grabbed Carly’s arm, tugging her out into the hall. Then she gave her a push on the back that propelled Carly forward.

Carly feigned indignant outrage. “I don’t appreciate being manhandled, Mrs. Thomas. I’ve never had a boss—”

“Silence!” Cassandra yelled.

Carly hastily closed her mouth. Cassandra must have decided it was time for Carly’s training. Silently, she prayed Night and Jon were still slated to do it. Carly couldn’t stomach the thought of any of the menacing guards touching her.

She studied her surroundings as they walked through corridors Carly hadn’t seen before. She was searching for any sign of Jon or Night, but the halls were empty, the sounds of their footsteps—Cassandra’s high heels and the guards’ heavy boots—echoing off the whitewashed walls.

At the end of one long hallway, one of the guards stepped in front of her to open a door that revealed a darkened stairwell that led down to…

The dungeon.

Carly tried to slow her pace, but Cassandra was wise to that trick and she kept shoving her forward. Twice, Carly nearly tripped on the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, another door was opened. Carly felt as if she’d been transported to Alcatraz. No maximum-security prison could have looked more desolate, more threatening.

Carly began to walk down the long corridor, aware of the soft sounds of crying coming from some of the rooms toward the end. She started toward the sounds, but Cassandra grabbed her hair, roughly shoving her into a room on the left. It was more frightening than the rooms Carly had imagined when Night and Jon described the training rooms of the cult. The years since the Commitment Church had fallen from grace—the cult members arrested and locked away, the place left deserted—had taken a toll on the actual building.

Carly’s eyes ran over all the furniture, trying not to visualize what they were used for. There were benches and tables, all adorned with chains and straps. A large cross rested against one wall, and Carly wasn’t sure, but she suspected the dark stains on the wood were blood. There was a cabinet hanging on one wall that was filled with whips, floggers, canes, paddles and crops.

Suddenly, she began to understand Jon’s and Night’s reluctance to return. The stories she’d read about BDSM usually took place in luxurious sex clubs and the descriptions were always sensual, sexy, arousing. This room looked like something out of a horror movie.

“Take off your clothes.”

Cassandra’s voice caused Carly to startle. “What?”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “You have thirty seconds to comply or my guard will take care of it.”

Carly’s hands trembled as she slowly slid the robe over her shoulders. She hesitated, the idea of standing naked in front of Cassandra and her two horrible guards causing the edges of her vision to go gray. Nausea crept to her throat.

Please God, don’t let me be sick.

Cassandra gestured to one of her guards. Carly hastily pulled her nightgown over her head. As much as she didn’t want to be naked, she wanted the guards touching her even less.

“Wonderful.” Cassandra moved her hand, indicating Carly should turn around. The woman was inspecting her as if she were an object she were considering purchasing.

Carly spun slowly, trying to dismiss the lightheadedness that was making it hard for her to move with any semblance of steadiness.

Cassandra stepped closer and it took all the strength Carly possessed not to move away. “Go lie on the table.”

Carly wanted to protest, to scream, to run, but none of that would change what was going to happen. One way or the other, she would end up on the table because that was what Cassandra wanted.

She shivered as she touched the cold metal, the trembling growing when the guards moved closer.

“Bind her,” Cassandra directed.

Bile rose as one man grasped her ankles, securing her spread eagle as the second lifted her hands above her head, strapping them so tightly, shards of pain traveled from her wrists to shoulders.

Both men made certain their hands lingered, taking liberties to touch her other places as well. Carly closed her eyes, certain she was about to be raped, but Cassandra called a halt to their unsavory explorations and demanded that they step away from the table.

Carly only had a moment to breathe easy at their departure before Cassandra approached. Suddenly she wasn’t sure which was the lesser of the two evils in the room.

Cassandra ran a single fingernail along the center of Carly’s body from neck to clit. The straps, though tight, weren’t enough to still the tremors taking over. Carly was shaking so badly, she wondered why the table wasn’t rattling.

Cassandra seemed to take great pleasure in her fear. So much so, Carly forced air to her lungs and willed her body to stop moving. Though it took some effort, she managed to clear her mind, refusing to acknowledge her surroundings or the woman. She found a way to go somewhere else, somewhere safe.

“Very good, my dear,” Cassandra said after several minutes. “You’re obviously stronger than I realized. That’s going to make today so much more enjoyable. Please, by all means, keep trying to disappear into that pretty head of yours. I assure you, I’ll find lots of painful ways to bring you right back.”

Cassandra snapped her fingers and held out her hand. One of the guards approached with some sort of cloth. As Jon’s mother shook it out, Carly realized it was a small burlap sack. For the first time since she’d entered the room, Carly resisted—though futilely—as Cassandra placed the bag over her head. There were very small holes in the sack that allowed a bit of light in and Carly could see shadows moving.

The bindings holding her to the table hadn’t made her feel as helpless as the loss of her vision. The panic she’d managed to beat back started to claw its way out again. Her heart thudded painfully and uncontrollable shaking racked her.

Again she felt Cassandra’s fingernail travel the same path along her body. This time when she reached Carly’s clit, she pinched the tiny nub painfully.

Carly cried out, then wished she’d held her silence as Cassandra laughed. The cruel woman enjoyed hearing her pain, watching her distress.

Once more, Carly’s pride took over. She fought against her fear, pushing it all deeper inside. Hell would freeze over before she gave Cassandra what she wanted.

“Light the torches. It’s time we set the stage.” Carly heard Cassandra’s heels clicking against the stone floor as she walked away. The room suddenly went dark, though Carly could make out the flickering orange of the torches through her burlap blindfold.

Carly jerked when Cassandra’s voice whispered, the woman’s face right next to her. She must have taken off her shoes.

“I’m going to leave you for a little while. When I return, you are forbidden to speak. Do you understand?”

Carly nodded. Her response was met with a painful pinch on her left nipple.

“Say ‘Yes Mistress’.”

Carly’s mouth was dry as a desert, her throat closed with absolute terror. Mercifully, she managed to say, “Yes Mistress.”

“I won’t be alone when I come back. I’m bringing a treat for you.”

Please let it be Jon and Night.