Vicious Carousel (2 page)

Two weeks earlier, when he’d taken her to the club and marched her around, she’d managed to get permission to use the bathroom. There Loren had slipped a small, pink sticky note to her under the bathroom stall door.

On it, her cell phone number, and Tilly’s.

“
Call
us. Day or night. We’ll come get you,” Loren had whispered before quickly leaving the bathroom.

Betsy had committed the numbers to memory before tucking the note inside the cup of her bra where the push-up pad went.

Right now, she sat cowered at one end of the couch, with her legs tucked under her because she was sitting on the chain, finally free of it. Today, she’d decided she was going to run, with only the clothes on her back, if necessary, and make her escape. She thought she’d have it done and be gone before he returned home, but it had taken her longer to finally work up the nerve to claw it off.

Today, she’d scraped her ankle bloody in the process, but she’d made it, freed herself from the damn chain.

Then, he’d surprised her, came home early, enraged that his manager at work was giving him hassles. She’d sat on the end of the chain, hiding what she’d done.

Unfortunately, she’d had to sit there while he’d pounded her with his fists, unable to defend herself as he took his frustrations out on her.

When he finally finished hitting her, he left her there while he headed for the shower. Then he’d emerged from the shower, took another swipe at her, and left for his other job.

She knew in her heart if she was still there when he got back, he’d do worse to her.

She stayed where she was, perched motionless on the couch, long after she’d flinched at the sound of the door slamming and the echoes of his car driving off had faded from her mind. She waited, waited.

Waited.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone off, and then snuck back to try to “catch” her doing something not allowed.

Finally, when over an hour had passed and her feet had gone numb from sitting like that, she slowly, painfully leaned forward, onto her hands and knees, and flopped onto her side.

Feeling began to flood into her feet and lower legs, painful pins and needles. She started flexing her feet, her toes, until she could finally sit up. The world spun and she had to lie down again. When she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, she forced herself back up into a sitting position and dared to put weight on her feet.

A new round of pain shot through her, sending adrenaline coursing through her veins as her heart pounded. Her head hurt, so, so bad.

But she’d done it. Despite the bloody furrows in the flesh of her right ankle, she stood, free of the chain.

Slowly shuffling, and with her head held at an angle to keep from tipping over, she trailed one hand along the wall for balance as she headed for the bedroom. The only thing Jack hadn’t taken from her was her purse.

Probably because there wasn’t anything of value in it. She had her driver’s license—not that she’d been allowed to drive in months—and her Social Security card.

Fortunately for her, she’d had fraud protection put on her accounts because of a skimmer getting her debit card number once at a gas station.

She pretended she didn’t know how to take it off, so Jack hadn’t been able to open any new credit cards in her name. She’d only had one credit card at the time she’d met him, and before she’d moved in with him, she’d used the refund on her apartment security deposit to pay it off.

Without telling him first, which she hadn’t thought she’d needed to at the time, and it had earned her a punishment caning.

At the time, he’d followed it with what had felt like a loving, cuddling session, with him reminding her that, as her Master and Owner, she had to run everything through him first.

She’d been in the wrong, or so he’d convinced her at the time.

Betsy found her rolling carry-on bag under the bed and managed to drag it out, using the bed to climb back to her feet. She grabbed underwear, shorts, jeans, a couple of shirts, and a pair of shoes. Even though she had the phone numbers memorized, she found the bra in her drawer and dug the small piece of paper out of the hiding spot, where she’d kept it hidden, just in case.

After pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she managed to get her feet into a pair of sneakers. Then she had to sit on the bed for a moment, because…dizzy.

And…

She didn’t know why she was so sleepy. It wasn’t even…

Carefully turning, she looked at the clock on the bedside table.

Holy shit.

Somehow, it was now nearly ten o’clock. She didn’t know if she’d passed out on the couch earlier or what. That meant Jack had actually been gone nearly six hours already.

But she had to get moving. If she didn’t, he would beat her mercilessly for getting out of the chain.

She grabbed her purse and the carryon bag and headed for the front door. After a moment of fumbling, where she was afraid maybe she wouldn’t be able to get it unlocked, she pulled it open and stared around, in shock that she was, finally, free.

Well, sort of.

She pulled the door shut behind her and locked it with the only key she had since Jack had controlled her life. Yes, she had a few things inside the apartment, some books and photo albums she wanted, but her life was more important.

Getting out wasn’t an option anymore. It was mandatory.

She pointed herself toward a convenience store a few blocks away. She didn’t dare knock on anyone’s door. Jack had threatened her that if she went for help, to be aware that he’d already bribed several of them that they would call him.

That was more than likely a lie, and she knew it, but she wouldn’t risk it. It felt like she didn’t know anything anymore. What was real, what was lies Jack had told her.

Nothing made sense anymore.

She had heard all the warnings when she got into the lifestyle. Had seen people do stupid stuff. She thought she was smarter.

She thought she knew better.

She thought she was special. Well, even Jack had told her how special she was, and he was able to smooth over every red flag she thought she spotted with such finesse that she didn’t know which way was up.

She thought he was going to take care of her.

She thought she’d found the love of her life after years of failed vanilla relationships.

As she trudged through the darkness, she hoped Tilly and Loren had their phones handy. Because if she couldn’t get through to them, she damn sure couldn’t go back to the apartment.

And she had nowhere else to go.

When she reached the convenience store, the poor clerk looked like he was going to shit himself. It took her several minutes of begging and pleading for him not to call the cops, and to let her use the phone to call her friends.

After she reached Tilly, she sat in the office and burst into tears at the guy’s kindness. He used the first-aid kit to tend to her wounds, and even made her an ice pack.

Now she realized how much trouble she was in. Seriously. She wobbled between feeling nauseated and dizzy and sleepy, plus the way her right eye was trying to swell closed, she knew it had to be bad.

She had deliberately avoided looking at herself in the mirror before she left the apartment, not wanting to see how bad it was, afraid the extent of her injuries would weaken her reserve to leave, make her scared of what worse things Jack might do to her if he caught her. It didn’t matter that logic told her the police would arrest him for this. It didn’t matter that she knew if she had to she could go to an emergency shelter.

The fear would still be there and slide a knife through what little reserve she’d mustered to leave in the first place.

The guy edged a garbage can closer to her. “You don’t look so good. Are you sure I can’t call 911 for you?”

“No,” she said. “My friends will be here soon. They’ll take care of me.”

She hoped.

“Who the hell did this to you?”

“Someone I never should have trusted in the first place.”

Kenny Yates and Nolan Becker had retreated to a corner of their friends’ kitchen. Around them, a private party of the Suncoast Society was in full swing. After the men’s rocky encounter earlier that morning with Kenny’s step-father, Kenny had counted on getting some bottom time tonight.

Nine years ago, when Kenny was twenty-five, Dennis had married Kenny’s mom, Michelle. Michelle had raised Kenny as a single mom, and as long as she got a pre-nup, Kenny told her he’d support her no matter who she married.

She did, and Kenny had done his best to conceal the fact that he was bi from Dennis. Especially while he was dating Nolan—and then moved in with him six years ago.

While Kenny’s mom knew the truth, the three of them had been careful not to let Teapublican Dennis in on it. In fact, Kenny’s mom thought the two men were gay, not bi.

This morning, while Kenny and Nolan were over helping remove a tree from Kenny’s mom’s backyard, Dennis had come home early and surprised them…

…and had witnessed Kenny kissing Nolan.

And fireworks of the bad kind had exploded.

Now Kenny wanted a beating and a fucking and a few minutes of subspace to escape from his brain for a while.

“I was thinking,” Nolan said as he glanced around, “that it’s starting to quiet down a little. You still in a mood to play tonight?”

While they were both Doms, they considered each other equals, which sort of made them both switches.

They could keep it straight, which was both ironic and all that mattered.

Tilly walked into the kitchen and dumped the remnants from a couple of plastic cups into the sink before tossing the cups. “You guys going to play?”

“We were just talking about that,” Nolan said.

Tilly smiled. “I know it sounds pervy, but I like watching you two play. I can tell you’re having fun. And, no offense, you’re both hot.”

Kenny laughed. “You’ve got two hot guys.”

“I know I do. And I enjoy watching them together, too. I’m a perv.” She shrugged. “What can I say?”

Leigh emerged from the hall leading to the master bedroom with Tilly’s purse in her hand. “Sweetie, I love you, but I’m not going into your purse.” She set it on the counter.

Tilly looked confused. “Um, why are you bringing this to me?”

Even Kenny jumped when the sound of evil, maniacal laughter rolled from the purse.

Leigh pointed at it. “
That
. Nearly scared the piddle out of me when I went to go to the bathroom.”

Tilly dug into her purse. “It’s my unknown caller ringtone.” She scowled, then answered it. “Hello?”

* * * *

Nolan already knew, deep in his gut, that whoever it was, it wasn’t good news. Especially when Tilly started frantically gesturing for something to write with as she attempted to soothe the caller on the other end of the line.

“Whoa, honey, calm down.”

The next few minutes of scrambling were a blur as Tilly got the info and a rescue party was assembled, mostly Doms, but also Gabe, who was an armed FDLE agent. Her husband, Bill, was an armed Charlotte County sheriff’s detective.

Which wasn’t as helpful, since they were in Sarasota County, but hey, they were armed law enforcement officers.

Betsy had been attacked by her boyfriend, and she’d finally found the nerve to escape the abusive, controlling asshole. Kenny and Nolan were no strangers to standing up for themselves or their friends. But as Nolan drove, over the speed limit and close on the heels of Landry and Cris in the vehicle ahead of them, and with a caravan of their friends following behind them, he wouldn’t deny that he hoped they weren’t in over their heads this time. Tony and Ross rode in their backseat.

“Sorry we won’t get to play,” Nolan softly said to Kenny.

“This is more important, dude,” he said. “Fucker. I hope we get a chance to take a swing at him ourselves.”

“There’s going to be a really long line for that,” Tony said, a hint of murder darkening his tone.

“And I suspect Tilly will occupy the first quarter of that line all on her own,” Ross added.

“That sounds about right,” Kenny agreed.

Tilly had been enraged that Landry and Cris forced her to stay behind at the house with everyone else, but the last thing they needed was Tilly getting arrested for assaulting Jack.

Besides, someone had to stay behind to bail them all out of jail.

Just in case.

* * * *

When Nolan pulled into the parking lot at the convenience store and they all piled out of their cars, Gabe had made it inside first, the young store clerk pointing toward the office when Gabe flashed her badge.

By the time Nolan and Kenny made it inside, there was already a wall of their friends between them and the office door, making it impossible for them to see.

But they could hear Betsy’s tortured sobs.

Once the group parted a few minutes later, and Nolan got his first good look at Betsy, he thought he was going to be sick. The icepack she held over her right eye didn’t completely hide the fact that it looked like it’d be swollen closed in a few hours. Over her left eye she bore an ugly laceration the clerk had apparently tried his best to treat with a first-aid kit, several bandages holding it closed. Ugly bruises covered her face and arms.

They all made way as Gabe, now shadowed by Bill, protectively kept her arm around Betsy’s shoulders and slowly escorted her outside. Bill carried a purse and carry-on bag Nolan suspected were Betsy’s.

Kenny stopped Bill outside. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re all going to go to her place. It’s just five minutes away. Jack’s not home, he went to work. We’ll get all her shit out of there and move it to Kel’s apartment by Venture. She doesn’t have a car anymore because the fucker made her sell it and give him the money.”

“She’ll be alone there at the apartment,” Kenny pointed out.

“We’ll take shifts—”

“She can stay with us,” Nolan interrupted. Kenny looked pleasantly surprised by that declaration, but nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, we’ve got a spare bedroom,” Kenny said. “Half the people at Venture know about Kel’s place, now that he’s partners with Derrick. That’s probably the first place Jack will look for her when he finds out she’s gone and once the cops contact him. She can’t stay there alone. Jack doesn’t know us except from the club. He won’t find her with us.”