His steel grip wrapped around her upper arm, and he jerked her to her feet. “And I expect from this point on, you call me master.”
Over my dead body. But she swallowed back the words before they slipped out. At this rate, that might be exactly what he had in mind.
He hauled her out of the car, and she fell forward, her knees and elbows landing hard on the pebbles. She clenched her teeth through the sting, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in pain.
He grabbed the chain between her cuffs and yanked. “Get up and walk.”
He led her from the humid night air into an air-conditioned space. Thick carpet silenced their footfalls as he shut a door behind him.
He guided her another few steps, then untied her blindfold. Brynn blinked as her eyes adjusted and was surprised to find herself in a brightly lit kitchen. A darkened flight of stairs stretched down through a door in front of her. Davis grasped the back of her neck. “Down the steps. Try to stay on your feet this time.”
She shot him a hateful glare and moved forward when he nudged her. Slowly, she descended the stairs, her heart sinking as the fluorescent light disappeared behind her and the contents of the basement came into view. No workout room or rec area for Davis Ackerman. Nope. Instead, a full-scale BDSM playground—his very own personal dungeon—spread out before her. A St. Andrew’s cross, benches, a wall full of hooks with various tools she couldn’t identify.
But the shock of that paled in comparison to the surprise that greeted her as she hit the bottom step.
They weren’t alone.
Roslyn Jamison gave her a disdainful look as she casually held a gun at her side. “Oh, hurray, the gang’s all here.”
Brynn stared at her, trying to connect the dots between the man behind her and the woman in front of her. But none of it lined up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
She pursed her lips. “You couldn’t leave things alone, could you? I should’ve known. You’ve been a complication since the day you were born.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” She waved the gun dismissively.
But Brynn couldn’t draw her eyes away from her—her presence too unbelievable to process. The petite woman looked like she was dressed for a political convention instead of a kidnapping. A navy blue, perfectly tailored pantsuit with matching low heels. 1950s-style white gloves. Even a bun with nary a hair out of place. The contrast with the BDSM equipment in the background was almost laughable.
But Brynn’s attention was diverted when a light sniffling sound came from her right. She whirled around to find Kelsey, tied to a chair, face swollen from crying and ball gag in her mouth. Brynn lurched in that direction. “Kels!”r: Roni Loren“Yeah, the guy’s in his own zip code. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he gets kicked out. He ordered a whole shitload of stuff from me a few weeks ago under a fake name, so I assume he’s setting up his own private playground.”
“Huh. Glad to know he’s running part of our city government.”
Jace became quiet again, apparently lost in his own thoughts, and Reid tapped his fingers on the armrest as he stared out the window into the night. Jace would slow when they passed gas stations and rest stops, but after another thirty minutes, they still hadn’t spotted a cab.
Reid shifted restlessly in his seat, something tugging at his brain. He’d gotten a weird vibe on the phone with Brynn. More than just her anger, something else. But he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what had bothered him. He played the conversation over again in his head. What had she said? I don’t have ruby slippers. Strange statement.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest, going over the words again and again, turning and rearranging them. Then, like numbers in a combination lock, they finally clicked into place—one word standing out among the others. All the breath left his lungs. “Fuck!”
Jace shot him a wary look. “What’s wrong?”
He pressed the heels of his hands to his brows, his head instantly starting to pound. “She used her old safe word and I didn’t catch it.”
“What?”
“On the phone. She used the word, trying to tell me something.” His frustration over not being able to find her now turned to cold fear. He looked at Jace. “What if she’s in trouble?”
He gave Reid a sidelong glance. “I think you’re getting paranoid and reading too much into things. She’s just pissed at you, man.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. She used the word specifically. She emphasized it. I was just too shocked over her leaving to catch it. And why would she leave so suddenly—give up on finding her sister so easily?”
Jace’s face reflected Reid’s worry. “But she was at The Ranch—it’s not like the dude who’s after her sister could just pop in. How could she get into any trouble?”
“God, I don’t know. Maybe someone called her, lured her out. Maybe this drug dealer guy has some contact inside The Ranch.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “She could be fucking anywhere. All I know is that she was in a car.”
“What do you want me to do? Turn around or keep going?”
Reid stared straight ahead, wracking his brain. Had she said anything else in the phone call that contained a clue? Had anyone at The Ranch seemed like they were paying particular attention to Brynn? A whisper of something danced at the edge of his awareness.