Caught By Two Doms (Club El Diablo (Angel's Doms Book 2)) (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Zach

He and Monroe had never given Angel the gift of friendship outside their unorthodox family of driver, housekeeper, and the two of them. He’d watched Angel’s hand reverently touch Willow’s stomach and then heard her laughter over the low thudding music. It made his heart ache for the loneliness she must sometimes feel. He’d brought her here tonight because she needed to get out and so did he. Her abhorrence of the club was unfortunate, but it was one of the few places he felt complete acceptance. He wanted to see if some of her fears would dissipate with familiarity and sceneing while clothed.

He left her on the carousel so he could speak privately with Damian about possibly finding a female sub to befriend Angel. Brandon’s wife played right into his hands. Damian clued him in to Willow sitting by Angel. They’d moved a little closer, but remained in the shadows watching.

“My sister is a brat, but she has a heart of gold.”

“Angel has her bratty moments, too, so I think this could work.”

Now, Brandon and Willow sat with him and Angel. Willow rested her head on her husband’s lap while Brandon rubbed her belly. Angel sat on the floor leaning into Zach’s legs. His fingers ran through her silky hair while he spoke with Brandon.

“Where’s the rope charmer this evening?” Brandon asked.

“He’s out of state working,” Zach smoothly answered back.

“That’s too bad. I’d love to see a demonstration. We were out of town the last time he performed, but it’s all anyone spoke about for months.”

Willow’s head jerked up and she looked at Angel. “You’re Monroe’s Shibari model?” she said with complete hero worship.

“Yes.” Angel’s voice dropped in obvious embarrassment.

Zach pulled her closer against his leg.

“I must see you work someday. Shibari gets my juices flowing.”

“You’re making her uncomfortable, babe.” Brandon’s voice held a touch of censure.

Angel smiled shyly at Willow.

“I will invite you to our home after the baby’s born if Sir and Master don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Zach said. “But I brought rope and, if Angel will agree, we can give a small demonstration here tonight.” He felt her body stiffen slightly. “I can work with you clothed,” he said and instantly felt her relax.

“Oh, a jealous Dom. How romantic. Please, Angel. I would love to watch.” Willow actually clapped her hands.

“He isn’t jealous… he knows I feel uncomfortable being unclothed in front of others.”

Willow gave Zachary an excited smile and then turned to Angel, hardly able to contain her excitement. “Please give us a demonstration.”

“I would be honored,” Angel said and looked up at Zach.

“The honor is mine, baby.” He winked at her. “Let’s find an empty station and we’ll show off a few basics.” He looked at Willow. “Of course, I bow to Monroe, the god of rope, but he trained me and I can tie a knot or two.”

Brandon smiled at his wife and then looked back at Zach. “The excitement might start her labor and then she’ll think you a god.”

Willow kissed her husband’s cheek. “I have three weeks to go, but if this works I’ll hire them for the next baby.”

“Let’s get past this one first.” He tugged a small chunk of Willow’s hair.

There was an available station in the back. Zach sat his bag down and whispered in Angel’s ear. “I had no intention of making you play tonight. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, Sir.” She trained her eyes on the floor.

He tipped her head up. “Now give me your answer.”

Her soft smile assured him. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. I’ll create a karada and then get a touch more intricate.” His eyes swept her body, assessing the material of her dress. “Do your stretches back there while I prepare.” He nodded to the back of the station.

“May I stand with you, Angel?” Willow asked; for the first time she looked tentative.

“Please, but you must sit.”

“You’re on, girlfriend.”

The words made Zach smile. This little firecracker was good for Angel, and hopefully when they returned the following week Angel wouldn’t dread the experience as much.

He gave her twenty minutes to prepare. During that time, more people walked over to observe. Monroe’s tutelage allowed Zach to work with many models, but no one compared to Angel.

He brought her to the front of the station and began by simply braiding her hair. Immediately, her eyes grew hooded and her gentle smile captivated their audience. He moved around to the front of her and took her hand, placing it against his heart. With his other hand he grasped her braid and slowly pulled her head back so she looked at him. He inhaled and exhaled slow and steady until their breathing was synchronized. Releasing her hair, he kissed her softly on the lips before stepping back.

Zach folded the rope in half and then found the center of the two strands, looping them around the back of her neck and then crossing at the indent of her collarbone. Even working a simple body harness he went into the zone or “call of the rope,” as Monroe explained it. He took extra time adjusting the material of Angel’s dress, keeping her modesty in mind as he worked. Even clothed, her breasts plumped out between the bindings as the erotic design took shape. He added a little extra excitement for their audience by making an intricate design with her arms behind her back. He couldn’t resist the small display of skin on her shoulder and moved in close, gripping the flesh between his teeth, feeling a thrill shoot straight to his cock when she gave a whimper of distress. “Shh.” He licked the indentations and then continued working.

When he finished, he turned her slowly so their audience could see all sides of her body. He wanted nothing more than to push her to her knees and unzip his pants, but not now. Finishing the demonstration, he barely noticed the voices drifting away as he slowly released Angel from her bonds.

“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Willow said with quiet reverence as she leaned against her husband.

Zach didn’t answer, just folded the rope and secured it in his bag. When the last strand fell and it was stowed away, he picked up Angel and carried her to a darkened alcove.

Siting with Angel in his lap, he gathered her close. “How do you feel?” He couldn’t help grinning at the look of bliss on her face.

She responded in a groggy voice, “Sleepy, but wonderful. I’ve missed the rope.”

“I think we both have. We’ll add it to our daily routine. I have some designs I’ve wanted to try without Monroe looking over my shoulder.”

Her gentle laugh was his answer. They didn’t stay the night in the suite, preferring to drive home and sleep in Monroe’s bed.

The first week of Monroe’s absence set the tone for the next and Angel’s trepidation over returning to the club lessened. Willow, with her bulging stomach, joined them again and had Angel laughing within a few minutes.

Then… their world crashed.

Chapter Eight

Monroe

Thoughts of Angel and Zachary encroached at odd times—a smell, the turn of a jaw, even the flow of a burqa. Monroe, the king of control, had trouble compartmentalizing their memories, but knew if he didn’t focus on his adversary it created incredible danger for those he loved.

One of Monroe’s first missions introduced him to Uday Hamid Hussein. Their paths crossed many times through the years. Monroe always knew the man needed to die. Uday, especially harsh on women, singlehandedly killed more innocents with torture, starvation, and beheading than most terrorist groups. A few weeks before, during a compound raid to capture Uday, foreign operatives uncovered documents detailing Monroe’s civilian life. The accurate files had pictures and maps of Monroe’s home residence. After the raid failed, the U.S. government notified him immediately. Monroe agreed to this assignment to draw the cold-blooded killer out where Monroe could finally end his worthless life.

Dressed in a black t-shirt with BDU vest and pants, Monroe had everything he needed in his multiple pockets while maintaining maximum mobility. He scaled a six-foot wall and made his way inside the secure grounds belonging to Fahid Ahmed Mohamed. Though rich, Fahid was a relatively minor player in the world of terrorism, but he had ties to Uday. Monroe wanted Uday and the government wanted information located on Fahid’s computer. It was a win-win.

Dark clouds cast an eerie moonlit glow over the still night. There was enough moonlight that Monroe could see without night-vision goggles, but it wasn’t a gift. If he could see, so could the guards. He made it to the inside perimeter and settled low, beside an outside electrical box. From his pocket, he pulled a small electronic device that detected frequencies between 25 and 45kHZ. Once he identified the alarm’s central control wires, he spliced the lines and attached another small box to circumvent the entire system. He could now move around freely as long as he remained out of sight of the cameras.

Unwrapping a twenty-foot length of rope from his waist, he tied it to a metal hook, which he removed from one of his many pockets. On his first swing, it caught on an iron balcony rung and he pulled himself hand-over-hand to the second floor. He gathered the rope and circled it back around his mid-section. Next, he removed a glass cutter from a vest pocket, circled the glass with the tip, suctioned the piece out, and unlocked the French door from the inside.

It was approximately 0330, and the house remained still and quiet as he made his way inside. Fahid’s office wasn’t hard to find. Monroe unscrewed the casing to the computer console and attached a high-speed heterostructure download device to the hard drive. It began wirelessly transmitting the contents, completely bypassing the need to turn the system on or acquire a login password. Once the process began, he systematically searched the office. Several items looked promising and, after carefully folding the documents, he placed them in his front vest pocket so his arm wouldn’t cause a crinkling noise when he moved. A small green light showed the download complete, so he reassembled the computer casing and stowed everything back where it came from.

He looked out the window and decided it wasn’t his best means of escape. Turning to the door, sudden blinding light caused his hand to raise and momentarily shield his eyes. Thousands of volts immediately incapacitated him to where he didn’t feel his body hit the floor. The Taser continued to discharge while they secured his arms behind his back. He couldn’t stop the heavy boot from connecting with the side of his head before everything went black.

***

Cold water pouring over his body woke him. His temple throbbed and his arms felt like lead weights pulled them from their sockets. Through half-closed eyes, he saw Fahid standing before him.

“My friend is awake. Very nice of you to visit me, Mr. Monroe. I have someone on his way here who also wishes to visit. I think you want to meet him, true?” Fahid’s English, straight from an Ivy League University, had only a touch of an accent.

Monroe’s naked body was secured tightly to a metal chair. He looked around, not seeing his clothing in the room. He imperceptibly pulled on the restraints to test their hold. Tingling at his wrists and ankles assured him he wouldn’t slip the ties. Two guards armed with automatic weapons stood at the door. Dried blood from previous captives splattered the walls and the odor of urine and feces permeated the still, warm air. The sudden blow to the side of his head wasn’t unexpected. Blood traveled down the back of his throat as he spit. Saliva and blood sprayed toward the man who punched him, but the real fun began after Uday arrived.

Monroe knew his slow death served a purpose for the cold-blooded killer. Accepting the inevitable was impossible, and Monroe held out through busted ribs, broken bones, and the loss of several teeth. Thoughts of never seeing Angel or Zachary again kept him fighting. He let his mind drift and follow swirls of rope as he wrapped them around the people he loved. Only in his subconscious did he hear Uday’s threats to kill his family if he didn’t cooperate. Uday wanted names of U.S. sympathizers. Monroe smiled on a gurgle of blood. He trusted Zachary to protect their family and adhere to Monroe’s letter.

Finally, through the pain, and sorrow for those he loved, he reached his decision while he consciously could. His handler didn’t know his exact location and no one was coming to his rescue. Monroe wasn’t afraid of torture or death, but he refused to give Uday the pleasure of severing his head or burning him alive.

His solution was World War II old-school, but effective. His tongue found the depression in his back tooth and dislodged the rubber bead surrounding a glass ampoule. He lifted his head, staring straight into Uday’s eyes. “Fuck you.” He bit down. A split second later, his body seized and he didn’t feel the next blow to his skull.

Angel and Zachary rested within the intricate weave of rope and kissed. Monroe watched them sway, loving their unique bond. A tug on his hand made him glance down. Zachary pulled him into the web and then his amazing lips found Monroe’s.

Peace at last.

The world went black.

Chapter Nine

Zachary

The house phone rang, surprising Zach while he and Angel ate lunch at the cozy table in Monroe’s monstrous kitchen. Zach leaned over and hit the speaker button.

“Mr. Zachary,” Stephens’ voice sounded unnaturally stiff. “There is a man at the front gate requesting to see you and Miss Angel regarding Master Monroe.”

Zachary’s gut twisted violently when he saw the terror in Angel’s eyes. Stephens was a highly trained retired member of the British Army Special Air Service. Whoever wanted to speak to them had credentials, which meant something had gone wrong on Monroe’s mission. Zach had reviewed safety procedures with everyone in the household. They all knew what to do, though they’d never prepared for this.

Standing, he took Angel’s trembling hand and squeezed. “I love you.”

She stared at him like he was her lifeline, as if he could make the man waiting out front disappear.

“Sir?” Stephens questioned.

“Please escort him to the house. We’ll meet him in the den.” Monroe’s den, where he read, played chess, and spent time on the computer answering correspondence. Where… the god of rope acted mortal.

Zach pressed the disconnect button, surprised his hand remained steady.

“No. Please, Sir, may I go to my room?” Panic resonated with each word Angel spoke.

He pulled her in close. “We don’t know that this is something bad.” But Zach did know. He felt it in every fiber of his being.

“Please?” Tears slid down her cheeks.

He pressed the button that went straight to Marguerite’s quarters. “Please come to the kitchen.”

“Si, Señor,” the steady voice came through the speaker.

Kissing the top of Angel’s head, he held on as long as he could.

Marguerite walked into the kitchen. “Quiero ser de servicio, Señor?”

“We have company. Please take Angel to her room and stay with her. Remember the safety plan,” Zach said, looking over the top of Angel’s head.

Marguerite’s sturdy arms came out and Zach separated himself from Angel. Kissing her on the forehead, he looked into her eyes and whispered once more, “I love you.”

“Come, S
eñorita
.” Marguerite’s arms replaced his and she walked her through the side kitchen door to go upstairs by way of the back entrance.

Zach stood still—drawing air into his lungs and gathering courage.

A few minutes later, he made his way to the den.

The man introduced himself as Edward Labough. He was about five foot ten, wore a dark tailored suit, and possessed cold, penetrating eyes similar to Monroe’s. Obviously CIA and it surprised Zach that he came alone. “I’m here on Nathanial’s behalf.”

“Cut the bullshit, please.”

Edward’s firm lips tilted down, but he no longer hesitated. “I’m sorry. Nathanial asked me to speak with you if something happened to him. It has, and I’ve brought items he wished given to you and Miss Philips.”

“He’s dead?” Zach had to hear the precise words.

“Yes, he’s dead.”

“Have you seen his body?” There had to be some hope.

“It was identified.”

“Is his body on U.S. soil?” Why the hell that made a difference, Zach didn’t know.

“No, I’m sorry. His body will never be brought home.”

Darkness clouded Zach’s vision, but he remained standing. “Then how the fuck can you be sure he’s dead?”

“I saw the pictures. It’s him.” No emotion sounded in the quiet voice. “This envelope has everything you need. What I’m doing today is highly unorthodox. Nathanial had no official sanctions to be overseas. I know what’s in the packet and because Nathanial trusted you, I’m doing the same.”

It pissed Zach off that this man used Monroe’s first name. He was Monroe, Sir, or Master. Zach only used Nathanial on rare occasions.

“I’ll leave you to look through the papers. It’s mostly self-explanatory, though he did provide everyone a separate personal letter.” Edward glanced out the window. “Information will be leaked to the press that he’s missing. Please do not speak to anyone about the disappearance. Eventually, his death will be disclosed, but this isn’t up to me.”

When no reply came from Zach, Edward nodded to the door. “I must be going.”

Zach’s unsteady hand pressed the button to ring Stephens. “Will you please see Mr. Labough out?”

“Yes, sir,” Stephens’ voice sounded from the speaker.

“Is there a way I can contact you?” Zach looked at the man and his voice sounded desperate even to his own ears.

“I’m sorry, no. You will hear nothing further from me or the government, though a death certificate will eventually be sent.” Edward turned away.

“You mean the government Monroe gave his life for… the one that won’t acknowledge him?” His voice elevated with anger.

Edward didn’t say another word, just walked through the door.

Zach didn’t realize his legs bent, but he found himself sitting in Monroe’s comfortable reading chair holding the large envelope in a death grip. He lowered his head and tried to steady his breathing without success. He needed Angel, but he dreaded giving her the news. It was so much easier to have a small kernel of hope and he didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Fuck,” he said out loud. This could not be happening. He looked at the plain manila packet.

His fingers worked the clips open and he slid out the separate envelopes inside—plain white with each of their names written in Monroe’s steady, precise script. He laid them aside. An official certificate came next and Zach read the names on what appeared to be a marriage license: Nathanial Jason Monroe, Angel Anne Philips. Dated more than two years ago and made absolutely no sense.

The trembling in his fingers increased as he opened his letter.

Zachary,

Edward Labough is a good man and agreed to deliver my letters in the event something happened to me. Please do not try and contact him again. You reading this means I am gone.

The marriage certificate is for Angel’s protection. I had it put into play long before you came back to us. She now has the protection of my name and wealth. I expect you to step up to the plate and marry her quickly. This you owe the three of us.

She knows nothing about the marriage document, but it is legally recorded and will stand up in any court of law. My final will also names her as beneficiary with Marguerite and Stephens cared for, too.

One of the things I have always admired about you is your ability to stand alone, but it is also your greatest weakness. You need that ring on your finger as much as Angel does. Protect her from herself and let her soothe your heart, as well.

There is so much more I wanted for the three of us. I have no doubt my last thoughts were of you and Angel. I love you, Zachary. I fell in love the first time I saw you; bloody, defiant, and staring death in the eye. It is a feeling I have never had before, and then, through you, Angel came into my life and gave me the greatest gift of all. Be brave again and guide Angel from the darkness.

Nathanial

Zach turned the single page over in his hand.

Blank.

This can’t be all, Monroe… don’t fucking do this to me.

Zach took a deep, steadying breath, trying to slow the many thoughts bouncing quickly through his brain. He understood the marriage license and had never doubted Monroe would care for Angel. Zach’s uncertainty came with the thought that Angel would no longer want to marry him. It was just another aspect of their lives that his selfish misgivings fucked up. The ache in his chest grew. Angel deserved more than he could give her. She deserved Monroe.

“Sir?”

Stephens’ voice startled him.

“May I be of assistance?”

Zach managed to shake his head. He could find no words.

Stephens walked away and for the first time Zach saw the man’s usually erect shoulders slumped in abject grief. Zach didn’t stop him, and a moment later he heard the sound of a door shutting.

He pulled in a ragged breath and walked to the stairs. Each step to Monroe’s room was slow torture. He stopped at the doorway. Marguerite sat on the bed holding Angel tightly in her arms. They both looked up. He tried to get the words out.

The truth dawned on the women.

“
Dios del mayo tiene misericordia,” Marguerite softly intoned while rocking Angel in her arms. May God have mercy…she said in English and then again in Spanish while tears flowed down her cheeks. Monroe was a son to her.

Angel’s head shook back and forth before she closed her eyes and lay still within the older woman’s embrace. Zach walked to the bed and took Angel’s cool hand in his, but she didn’t open her eyes. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of the delicate skin, breathing in her scent, needing her touch. She offered no resistance and showed no outward sign that she knew he was there.

It could have been minutes or hours that passed. Marguerite slowly extricated herself from Angel, looking to Zach with grief stricken eyes.

“I will cook, S
eñor
.” She slowly walked from the room, leaving Zach and Angel alone.

He bent over and then lifted Angel, scooting up the bed to rest his back against the headboard. He wrapped her tightly within his embrace. She didn’t make a sound, no sobs, and no tears. He placed his head against her hair, breathing slow and steady, and closed his eyes.