Cherise Sinclair - This is who I am

“Hell,” Nolan muttered, his expression darkening.

Sam headed for where he’d last seen her. No one in that spot. No Linda in sight. Hell with this. He hauled in a breath. “Linda! Answer me now!”

The room quieted, the command in his voice shutting everyone down. No answer. “Linda. Answer me!”

Sharp glass seemed to fill his gut. Where the hell was she? He started for the front entrance.

Z appeared at his side, carrying a heavy-duty flashlight. He handed Sam another. “Cullen said she’d pointed out four Doms, but they’re all in the room. Ben says no one came out, and he won’t let anyone leave.”

“Where the hell—”

“I’ve got the Masters searching.”

A shout came across the room. Marcus’s voice. “Restrooms empty.”

Raoul’s voice. “Theme rooms clear.”

“Not upstairs,” Dan yelled.

Cullen yelled, “Not danceside.”

“Not in the back,” Anne yelled.

“He got her out. Somehow.” Sam considered. “Your private exit to your yard is locked.”

“Yes. The only other way out would be—” Z turned toward the side of the room. The Capture Garden door stood slightly ajar.

“Hell. No power. No alarm.” Sam’s jaw clenched. The huge Gardens were designed for hide-and-seek games with hedges and hidden nooks. In the dark and rain, it could take hours to find her. If the spotter had her, she didn’t have hours.

Conn was in the truck, which Sam had parked right in front. “Start the search. I’m getting my dog.”

Linda couldn’t stop shivering. Her skin was drenched. Her hair hung in cold tangles on her shoulders. She couldn’t stand on her own, let alone run.

The slaver—Aaron, he’d said his name was—dropped her onto a bench in the gazebo.

Her hope of rescue was sinking. A tall cedar fence marked the back wall of the garden. “They’ll catch you. You should run while you can.”

“Gonna do you first.” He grinned. “Then I’ll cut your hair off for something to remember you by and toss your body over the fence.” He tried to yank off her bustier but couldn’t work the tiny wet hooks with his wet hands. When he pulled a hunting knife from the sheath at his hip, her breathing stopped.

God, please, no.

But he slipped it under the leather and sliced upward between her breasts. The bustier dropped open. “Much better.”

His hands were on her, squeezing roughly. She kicked at him frantically, knocking him back. He grunted in pain, but her bare feet hadn’t done enough damage.

Stepping forward, he slapped her legs aside, grabbed her throat. Then his head lifted. Running sounds. A dog baying. “Fuck, they’re out here already.”

She knew that dog. Conn was here. Exultation filled her. Scream . She pulled in a quick breath and—

He grabbed her hair, and his knife pricked her throat. “Scream and you’re just meat cooling in the rain.”

She choked back the sound, her hands clenching. Here. I’m here! Please…

“Too damn fast. Were they watching you, slut?” He slapped her cruelly, the pain sudden and startling, then yanked her to her feet. Before she could recover, the knife was back at her throat. He answered for himself. “I knew you were listening. But you’d already told Z, hadn’t you?”

He considered the fence, then shook his head as footsteps advanced directly toward them. “Too late. Bet they have someone guarding the parking lot by now.”

Hurry, Sam. Hurry.

Aaron stared down at her with cold eyes. “Guess it’s the hostage game. Don’t fuck up or I’ll slit your throat in front of them all.”

He would anyway. She knew it, saw her death in his gaze. He turned as Conn appeared, the dog brought to a sudden halt by the leash Sam held. Z and Nolan were directly behind him. Others followed.

Her hope of being freed was dying fast, but oh, she wouldn’t be left alone with this man. Gratitude for that mercy made her eyes water.

In the wet light from the nearby fountain, Sam’s pale gaze fastened on her. Fury made his gaze almost glow. “Let her go.”

“Don’t be stupid.” The spotter gave a short laugh. “Back off, way off, or I slit her throat and you watch her bleed out.”

“You aren’t that stupid.” Z’s mild voice belied the rigidity of his jaw. “Killing her won’t help you.”

“Be satisfying though.” The knife pricked her skin.

She felt blood trickle down her throat, hot against the chilled skin.

“I’m not going to jail. I heard about the Overseer—getting reamed like a cunt,” Aaron said. “Either I get away clean, or I take her with me before I die.”

Sam’s growl and Conn’s snarl sounded in the silence.

The guy laughed. “I never liked you, Davies, but you’ve got good taste in sluts. Now back off.” The knife pricked her harder.

She gritted her teeth. He wouldn’t get a noise from her. Wouldn’t get anything. Never, ever again. She met Sam’s gaze and spoke directly to him. “I’d rather die than let him take me. My choice. My body.” Know that I mean this, my love.

Sam’s face blanked of all expression.

“Shut that yap.” Aaron put his hand over her face—her nose and mouth. She couldn’t breathe. As she struggled, Aaron yelled at Z, “Back the fuck up. Now.”

Blackness danced in her head. But as the men retreated, almost disappearing in the darkness, Aaron removed his hand from her face.

Air . She heaved in a breath, another.

As Aaron dragged her beside him, she turned her head. Everything in her wanted one last look at her Sam. Just one.

At the edge of the clearing, Sam handed Conn’s leash to Anne. As the Mistress dragged the dog away, Sam stood alone.

Linda looked at him. I love you . Regret swept over her, colder than the dying wind. The rain had stopped, but water dripped from the trees and palms. What might they have had together? Why had she let Sam retreat from her? Now those few days had been wasted, precious jewels of time tossed away.

And her hope of more time with him was fading so, so quickly. Her lips tightened. If the slaver got her to the parking lot, then—but only then—she’d give up. She’d jam her neck on the knife herself. I’m sorry, my babies. Sam. I hope you’ll forgive me someday.

But never, never, never again would she be a slave.

SAM’S RAGE HAD disappeared, driven down to a hard ball in his gut, waiting to explode. As his mind frantically turned over plan after plan, his heart slowed, his blood turned to ice.

Linda walked on Aaron’s right, his right hand curled around her left upper arm, holding her in place. His left hand held the blade against the left side of her throat. The bastard was fully a head taller than Linda was.

There was no surefire plan. None. No time to get weapons, which Z undoubtedly had upstairs. Aaron had made it clear he was willing to die—and kill Linda first.

Sam wanted to wait. Surely there’d be a way to get her free that wouldn’t risk her life. She just had to hang in there.

“My body. My choice.” She’d spoken clearly. Bluntly. She’d rather die.

He saw only one slim chance to free her. He pulled in a breath against rigid lungs. If his actions killed her…he’d slaughter the bastard and follow. Damned if he wouldn’t.

Once back in the shadows, Sam slipped over to Z. He’d need space and darkness. But the approach to the mansion’s side door was lit with solar lamps. No way to shut them off.

However, the lighting for the front of the Shadowlands was electrical. Without power, there were no lights.

Z’s eyes were black in the dim lighting. “If he’s willing to die, there’s no good way to take him out before he kills her. We can try, but I doubt she’d survive. ”