Escape From Paradise (30 page)

Marco chuckled, enjoying the fucking show, no doubt.

Colin released Angela to focus on the ministrations of Perla, and soon he was arching his back and blowing his load into the woman’s throat. He felt satiated and perverted as hell. Guilt kept him from looking at Angela as he tucked himself back into his shorts.

And then Marco spoke. “Angel, Perla. Aquí.”

In that moment the world seemed to slow and stop as Marco motioned Perla to his side, and Angela between his legs. Colin could feel Marco’s eyes on him as Angela’s sweet hands were pulling out the man’s stiff, sad excuse for a cock.

He wanted to vomit when her lips wrapped around the other man’s purpled head. Colin’s orgasm should have calmed him, but he wanted to break shit and wrap his bare hands around Marco’s neck. Then pound his stupid, smug fucking face. Colin must have appeared enraged because he saw Luis’s hand move to rest on his gun. The bodyguard was watching him closely.

“It is hard to share, Señor, is it not?” Marco said lazily, his hands rubbing Angela’s shoulders, while he eyed Colin with interest. “Try to remember it is for her benefit, to keep her in line and remind her of her place.”

Marco hissed and closed his eyes as Angela picked up the pace. Colin envisioned himself tearing Angela away and killing Marco a hundred different ways. Violent and bloody.

Just as his entire body was twitching to jump up and rip his fucking head off, Marco’s hips jutted upward and he let out a series of short moans. Angela finished him off and sat back on her heels. Marco put his puny shit away, then he got serious.

“Perla, take Angel below deck.”

Colin braced himself, senses alert. The girls hurried away with their heads down, and Luis moved closer. Marco’s eyes bore into Colin and he rubbed his palms together. The man appeared almost nervous now.

“Señor Douglas, you should be warned that Angel has been a difficult acquisition. She has never lost her sense of self the way a proper slave should. You see…” He cleared his throat, upping the dramatic effect. “Angel is from the U.S., and people are actively searching for her, even now.”

Marco raised an eyebrow and Colin forced his face to slacken in surprise as he said, “I can see how that would make things difficult.”

“Yes. Worst of all, she is still a willful American at heart. We keep her under tight supervision because I would not put it past her to try and escape or make herself known. I’m not sure I would entrust such a liability to a first time owner…especially if she can be tracked back to me.”

And there’s the fucking rub.

“That’s a valid concern,” Colin said, running his hand back and forth over his jaw in thought. “However, secrecy is of the upmost importance to me, Mr. Ruiz. The vast majority of my culture would come after me with pitchforks if they found out I was keeping a slave. I would need to have a room of my home outfitted for her safekeeping. I’m prepared to discipline her.”

“If anyone were to ever find out,” Marco said. “I don’t know you. We have never met.”

Colin gave the man a slow, understanding nod.

Was this really happening? Was Marco considering selling her? Fuck, maybe that’d been his plan all along when he found out she was Colin’s “muse.” Did he hope to rid himself of the burden of the American girl? After all he’d been through that week, he wanted to laugh.

“I will take our association to the grave, Mr. Ruiz.”

Marco nodded. “I believe that about you.”

“Name your price,” Colin said. “A muse like Angela will cause my business to boom…”

Marco tensed and his eyes went hard. Colin was slow to realize his mistake.

He’d called her Angela. Marco had never referred to her as anything but Angel.

From the corner of his eye he saw Luis going for his gun. Colin embraced the burst of adrenaline that came with the following moments of chaos. Colin launched himself from his seat toward the bodyguard, shoving him against the stern of the boat. He heard Marco shout, maybe calling for the captain. Momentarily distracted, Colin took a jab to the abdomen before head-butting the bodyguard, kneeing him in the gut, and hearing his gun clatter to their feet and slide across the deck.

Colin blocked Luis’s sloppy throws, relishing the sound of the man’s pained grunts each time his fists landed, quick and hard, pushing him toward the stern. From the corner of his eye he saw Marco reaching for the fallen gun at their feet. Colin kicked him in the jaw and watched the fucker fly back. It landed him a punch to the skull, but it was worth it.

Luis’s knuckle split, gaping, from his punch, and he howled. Stupid fuck. Never hit a man’s head with your bare knuckles. Colin ran at him, ramming his shoulder upward into Luis’s gut and lifting him off his feet. In a clean sweep, the bodyguard flew over the stern, grasping at the rail and yelling as he looked down at the wash of water caused by the giant propellers. Colin leaned over and snatched the second gun from the man’s waist, and then slammed the butt down on Luis’s fingers.

The man fell, his garbled holler swallowed up as the rush of water sucked him in with a series of sickening thuds.

Colin turned to take care of Marco and found himself too late. The other man had managed to get his hands on the gun, and he was scrambling backward, trying to point the thing at him.

Colin dove into the near hallway, hearing the bang and whir of a shot fired past him. From the ground, he took aim and fired, celebrating internally when he heard Marco yell, throwing his head back and grabbing his shattered knee with one hand.

“Drop the fucking gun or you’re dead,” Colin said.

The bloody bastard shot again, clipping Colin’s shoulder. Fuck, that stung, and now he was livid. He pumped two more rounds from his awkward angle, shooting Marco in the shoulder and arm.

Marco dropped the gun and fumbled to hold his shoulder and leg. Colin jumped to his feet and stood over the man, kicking the second gun away.

“Señor Ruiz?” called a male voice over a speaker.

Shite. The captain.

“Tell him you’re okay!” Colin whisper-hissed to Marco, the gun barrel at his temple. “In English.”

Through panting breaths, Marco called out, “I am fine.”

A sense of calming resolve seemed to have settled over the man as he stared up at Colin. “FBI?”

“I work alone.” Colin’s gun never wavered from Marco’s face.

“It’s not too late,” Marco said. “Whoever sent you…whoever paid you…they never have to know. They can think you died, and the girl can be yours.”

For the briefest moment Colin allowed himself to imagine it. Marco’s eyes were shining with the knowledge that he was calling forth another man’s demons.

Colin punched him in the jaw, throwing the man’s head to the side and causing him to go even more limp.

“Don’t you fucking look at me like that.”

Even with all Colin had been through, he’d never been much for murder—he’d injured many, but only killed when the only other option was to be killed himself. He hadn’t wished for a person’s death and suffering this badly since he’d hunted his family’s murderers and Graham’s kidnappers. His finger tightened on the trigger just as a shrill scream pierced the air.

Colin turned his head to see Perla at the top of the steps, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. Angela peeked around her side with gaping eyes.

“Master!” A choking sob tumbled from Perla as she took in the sight of Marco’s bloodied body and Colin’s gun. Her eyes darted around, probably searching for Luis, and when she didn’t find him she yelled in panic again. Colin looked back at the man at his feet.

“Tell her to shut her fucking mouth,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Silencio, Perla,” Marco commanded, his breaths coming short.

She continued to cry, she and Angela gripping one another by the arms.

Colin ignored them and spoke quietly. “I’m here to take back what was never yours to begin with. The girl is going to disappear. And so am I.”

Marco’s voice was a weak, but wicked rasp. “My people…will hunt you.”

Colin’s shoved the barrel against Marco’s forehead. “If any of your fucking goons come near her,
I
will be the one hunting
them
and slicing off their worthless balls while they sleep. Then I’ll burn your palace to the fucking ground. Your reign is over.”

“Don’t kill him!” Perla wailed. “Por favor!
No, no, no.
”

“Shh,” Angela pulled her close, staring at Colin in fearful confusion.

Ah, fuck. He had no time for crying women.

Marco chuckled at Colin’s hesitation to finish him off, or perhaps it was simply madness from blood loss since there was a nice pool of crimson around him. But his laughter turned into a choking sound as the man fought to breathe.

It was time to end this.

When Marco had told us to leave, I thought I’d tumble down the stairs, but Perla grasped my shaking hand. I was near tears by the time she pulled me into a bedroom and took my face.

“Will he let him buy me?” I whispered in Spanish. I couldn’t help the way a sound of hope rose in my voice.

“Listen to me,” Perla said, more serious than I’d ever heard her. “And listen well. It is good and acceptable for a slave to love their master, but you must know, Angel. Your master will
never
love you in the same way. Never. You heard what Master said. Señor Douglas will share you with other men, just as he did today. He will take other slaves and women in front of you, just as he did today. You must prepare your heart and mind for all of this. There will come a day when you are aging, and he replaces you with another. Do you understand?”

Her words hit me like a steamroller as I imagined it. Was that how Perla felt every day of her life?

“Do you love Master?” I whispered.

Her eyes flitted closed and her words were a breath of fervent emotion. “He is my first and only love. Everything I do is to please him. And each day he takes me to his bed I am thankful.”

My heart hurt. Could I be like Perla? A loving, loyal slave who took each day, moment by moment, knowing it could never last? Could I take her advice and not become bitter in the process? I didn’t know if I could. I wasn’t wired that way.

A banging sound like something hitting the side of the boat and yells came from above. Perla grabbed my arm and we watched each other, becoming still.

What the hell was going on up there?

Another yell, sounded like Luis. I sucked in a breath and felt my eyes widen with the rush of fear coursing through me. A feeling of danger punctuated the air.

Oh, my God…was this turning into a business deal gone bad? Were they going to kill Mr. Douglas? A panicked dread spread its fingers through me, and like a lovesick fool I made a move for the stairs. Perla’s fingers dug into my arm, holding me in a vise grip.

“You cannot interrupt!”

And then a gunshot rang out, making us both jump. More shots followed, and I heard Marco yell in anguish. Now it was Perla’s turn to gasp and run to the stairs. I took off after her, my heart banging in my throat.

What I saw at the top made the world seem to stop. Marco, shot and bleeding on the white deck, his blood a crimson shock to my eyes. Mr. Douglas standing over him with a gun pointed at his head. Luis nowhere in sight.

Holy fucking shit. He was really going to kill him.

I didn’t know how to feel. Mr. Douglas could be a psychopath for all I knew, though deep down I didn’t really believe that, but it was hard to know what feelings to trust. When Perla cried out, begging for Marco’s life, the indecisive look of regret in Mr. Douglas’s eyes made all of my distrust for him fall away.

And still, for some reason, the thought of watching Marco be killed sickened me. I thought about how angry he’d been at his son for raping me and kidnapping me. How he’d pampered me and only punished me when I broke serious rules. How he’d protected me in many ways, never forcing me to be his lover until today, and only as a way to “teach” Mr. Douglas.

“No.” It left me as a whimper.

Mr. Douglas swung his head toward me, a look of astonished surprise on his face. “After all he’s done, you don’t want to see him dead?”

“I…”
Do I?
“No.”
But he made you a slave.
“I don’t know!”

“No, no!” Perla begged. “Por favor, tell him no!” She fell into my arms and hid her face.

Marco would die. Even now his eyes were rolling back, and his hold against his wound was loosening. If left unattended he would bleed to death like an animal. I couldn’t help the pity I felt at seeing this man of power brought so low.

Mr. Douglas raised his arm and slammed the butt of the gun against the side of Marco’s head, knocking him out cold. Perla and I jumped, and she wailed.

Mr. Douglas grabbed Marco by the ankles, dragging him across the deck and down the stairs. Perla wouldn’t leave his side, so she ended up cuffed to a bed next to Marco, gagged.

Mr. Douglas turned to me and I shrunk back, shaking my head. I didn’t want to be handcuffed or tied up and locked away. He gave me a shake of his head and gripped my arm, pulling me out of the room.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little lassie. Come on.”