Chapter Eight

 

It was a rare, brilliant, sunny Sunday, something that wasn’t encountered often in the northwest during autumn. He’d finished his rounds, but wasn’t quite ready to go back to the residence. And there was one reason why.

And it was the reason standing at the entrance to the parking area. Just as she was that first day he’d seen her. There they were again, haranguing her, both of them flanking her as if to box her in, preventing her from escape, keeping her from removing herself from their tirades, from their anger.

He wanted to kill both of them.

And yet, he watched from afar. She’d told him that she needed to handle this herself. And though he should have asked her, he didn’t pry as to why. Still, it was hard. He watched how she looked from one to the other, both of them this time dressed in quite formal black suits. He wondered why those two men seemed to always dress like undertakers. That was the first thing that popped into his mind.

Then one of them – the dark-haired man who’d snapped at them that first day — grabbed her arm. Eldon took a step toward her. He’d be damned if he let him lay a fucking finger on her.

“Don’t.”

Eldon spun around, startled at the sound of the voice behind him. It was Nathan. But rather than finding anger in the hulking driver, Eldon saw a wry, almost bittersweet smile upon the man’s face.

“Let her be. Just let her do this.”

“Why do they keep coming?” Eldon couldn’t help but blurt it out, even though he knew he sounded like a petulant child.

Nathan shrugged. “I don’t think anyone knows why but her and Heller. But I know she told you she needs to handle this herself.”

“What exactly is this?” Eldon turned back toward the trio. He was pleased to see her yank her arm out of the man’s grip, Tamara snarling something at him. The man’s face grew red, and he barked something in reply, but it was much too far away to make out the words.

“It’s been this way almost every week since she’s been here.”

“Every week,” Eldon said under his breath, disgusted. “And how many weeks is that?”

“At least a year.”

“Jesus Christ. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He couldn’t figure out why he was so agitated and he knew that it was tiptoeing right up to the edge of histrionics, of his emotional reaction looking manufactured or forced. It was something else one had to be wary of on a deep cover assignment. Overly emotional or demonstrative displays were remarkably transparent.

It was if criminals had a special ability to sniff out when someone was being what Lieutenant Bennett dubbed a “fake ass motherfucker.”

But right now, there was nothing fake about Eldon’s reaction. He wanted to take her away, he wanted to protect her. He wanted to make sure Tamara never had to see those two men ever again.

The gravel crunched behind him, and Nathan stopped next to him. “For a while, Heller used to watch them too. Though I think his reaction was quite a bit, ah, different than yours.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he got off on it. I’d bet fucking money that Heller actually enjoyed watching her being berated by those two pricks.” Nathan shook his head, looking down. “Takes all kinds, I guess.”

But the word echoed in Eldon’s mind.

Enjoyed.

Was Heller that sadistic? There was no doubt he was a sadist, that he enjoyed subjugating women. But would he really get off on this?

He wasn’t entirely convinced it was that simple. He wondered if there was something else about Heller that maybe Nathan had misunderstood. Eldon suspected it wasn’t just a question of the man getting off on it. He suspected that, in his own twisted, odd way, Heller felt protective of her too.

The question was why.

And that all came back to why she was there at the farm in the first place — which he still didn’t know. It was something else he had to ask her. He needed to learn this once and for all, because somehow he knew the answer held the key to maybe getting her out of this place, to blowing the lid off this whole fucking operation, whatever it was.

Is that what you’re still doing here? Trying to blow the lid off this thing? You could have done that months ago, and you know it.

Perhaps it was true. Or maybe it was just his fatalistic outlook on life, something that had grown deeper, more profound with every weekend he’d spent at this place. For even though it was lurid and arousing and twisted in a way he didn’t understand, it had darkened his viewpoint on life. It had deepened his sorrow and his hopelessness, and yes, even his nihilism.

But one thing — one sole reason — kept him going, like a beacon in the night, leading him to safety.

And maybe even redemption.

It was the woman standing between those two men, enduring their vitriol and abuse.

That one thing… was Tamara.

* * *

 

He sat on the couch in his room, nursing the last half glass of his Malbec, watching the waning light in the western sky. The room in the residence was unlike any he’d ever been in – except perhaps a house. Not only did it have a huge living room and several bedrooms, but it had a full appointed kitchen too. He could hear the sound of dishes clinking at that moment, Tamara cleaning up the remnants of their dinner.

She’d made him a savory Italian dish he wouldn’t even try to pronounce – but it was wonderful. He had so many questions, so much he still didn’t understand. He didn’t even know where to start. He didn’t even know her last name!

Some cop you are.

He leaned forward, craning his head around and looking toward the kitchen. “Tamara, put those down. Come in here.”

Part of him felt sheepish at issuing her such a terse order, but he knew she responded to it. He knew enough about her now to know it was what she expected. It was what she craved.

It was what she was.

The question is, Eldon, is that what you are?

Deep inside perhaps, he knew the answer to that. Or perhaps this place had just confused him to the point he could no longer tell up from down. Maybe he didn’t even know himself anymore.

Not for the first time, he wondered if it was the job. The assignment. Deep cover was known to do this to some cops. A few never came back from assignments. Not because they were dead – but because they decided being who they were on deep cover was the real them. It wasn’t a cop. It wasn’t a good guy. It wasn’t doing the right thing. It was giving in to who they really were.

And he knew if he were intellectually honest with himself, brutally truthful, he knew there was a possibility that was happening here too.

Tamara came in, wiping off her hands with a white cloth, the snug and much-too-short denim skirt revealing a dazzling amount of her trim, smooth thighs.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing with the stem of his wineglass. Though he indicated the couch across the room from him, he knew it was a futile gesture.

A tiny, subtle, mischievous smile quirking her lips, Tamara folded the cloth, laid it down on the coffee table behind her, then dropped to her knees before him. The skirt rode up scandalously high, and he was sure, just as on that first night, that if he but looked a little bit closer, he’d know if she was wearing underwear or not.

Jesus, you’re like a twelve-year-old boy. What the fuck is wrong with you, Eldon?

And then she was still, her hands folded in her lap. She’d chosen a quite tight black top that was long sleeved, part of each cuff wrapping around the web of her thumb. There were cutouts at the shoulders, revealing creamy flawless flesh, the neck quite high. Though the swells of her breasts were covered, their generous size was still obvious, and if anything, the outfit only accentuated her dramatic figure. It was a mouth-watering look, her blonde hair spread upon her shoulders, her sparkling eyes looking at him with a serenity, an acceptance, a peace that he couldn’t help but be envious of.

Yes, perhaps she was a prisoner. Maybe she was here against her will. But somehow, she’d made peace with it. Somehow, she’d accepted it.

Acceptance.

He didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Did you accept that life was hell? Did a man accept that he didn’t know who he was anymore? That he could no longer tell right from wrong? That he was starting to not care about right or wrong?

Perhaps that wasn’t even part of the equation for Tamara. She simply obeyed, did as she was told. There was a simplicity, an elegance to that sort of life, wasn’t there?

“You were watching us?” She murmured it, part statement, part question.

His gaze snapped to hers, and though he expected to see reproach — perhaps even anger — he saw neither. Instead he saw… curiosity.

“Why do you watch, sir?”

“Tell me why do you do it. This is the fifth weekend I’ve been here. And every time, they’ve come. Every time you stand there and listen to them in silence as they do… whatever they do. Who are they?”

She looked down, and he could tell she didn’t want to answer.

“I want to know, Tamara, please. I need to know. No bullshit. Who are they?”

With a glance out the window, the light catching in her eye, she looked at him once more, her chin firming. “The blond one, his name is Liam. Liam Seaton.”

“What about the other one though? The one who grabbed you.” Eldon wasn’t able to keep the harshness from his voice. Even now, he wanted to break the man’s fucking hand.

“Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper. “That one is… his name is Aaron DeWinter.”

“But who are they to you?”

The first name didn’t ring a bell, but the second one most definitely did. In their dossier of known Trust associates and members, Aaron DeWinter was quite near the top of the list. But he’d see what he could get Tamara to tell him first. That the man was a crook was less important than the fact DeWinter seemed to think he had some sort of claim on Tamara.

Eldon would be a liar if he said that knowledge didn’t make him angry — deeply angry. Tamara was not his.

Not anymore.

“They’re…” She pursed her lips a moment, then she looked him in the eye. “They used to be my owners.”

Eldon’s mouth dropped open, then he drew in a sharp breath. “Owners. As in, you were their property?”

“Not at first. But things evolved, I guess you could say.”

“You guess?” He sat forward, his elbows on his thighs. “I want to know, Tamara. No bullshit. You hearing me?”

She nodded slowly.

“Did they hurt you? Were you raped?”

The simmering rage within him at the prospect of these men victimizing her shocked him with its force, his muscles vibrating with it.

“It’s not that simple…”

Eldon looked down, shaking his head. “How many fucking times have I heard that around here?”

“Life hardly is ever that simple, sir.”

“Please don’t call me that. I’m Eldon. Just Eldon.”

That didn’t mean his cock wasn’t hardening at the mere sound of her sweet voice saying the word.

“Eldon.” A hint of a smile played at her lips. “You don’t think so then? If I may be so bold… I think you’re proof of that fact.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The first night I came to you. I… I thought for sure you would take me. Like others would have.”

“Like DeWinter and Seaton.”

“And I would have agreed to it.” Her eyes flashed. “Gladly.”

He tried to ignore it, his rock hard erection insisting he do anything but. “I’m not like them. Not at all.”

This time, she did smile. “I know that now.”

“I want you to answer my question — because I think you’re dodging it. Did they rape you?”

Her pause seemed an eternity, her gaze sliding away. In that long moment, he ached for her, even as his rage threatened to boil over at someone — anyone — hurting her.

“I was in a position where something like that — that question — didn’t really apply, sir. I was theirs, in every way. Their slave.”

“Try again. Are you really going to give me that? I want to know, Tamara. All of it. You can tell me.”

Keep your cool, asshole.

Her pretty little throat worked for a moment, then she took a deep breath. “At first, it was wonderful. It was something entirely new for me. I’d volunteered for a Term, and been auctioned like any other woman.” Her hand eased up and down her forearm. “I barely remember some of it, but I do remember the moment the collar was wrapped around my neck, his hands, his smell. It was DeWinter.”

The flush of jealousy Eldon felt at that revelation was one he knew put him in as much danger — perhaps more — than anything else he could possibly engage in. Jealousy — getting personal — clouded judgment.

And compromised judgment got cops killed.

Tamara continued. “He was so intense, at the beginning. It was like I was a source of energy, vitality for him. He couldn’t get enough of me, and he was very, very thorough in my training. His needs were… specific.”

“How?”

Her cheeks began to color as she answered. “He wanted me to be…a possession. His possession. He said he wanted my every conscious thought to be of him, and how I could better please him.”

“And was it?” He didn’t like the edge that had snuck into his voice.

She nodded. “I couldn’t help it. I’d been warned, of course. They told me how intense the emotion is when beginning a term, the arousal, how it can make you start to entertain things, ideas you might not otherwise consider. But I really did begin to believe he was my everything.”

“Did you love him?”

Tamara blinked several times at the question, her lips quirking into an O. “I…”

“Be honest with me.”

She looked down for a moment, then met his gaze. “Yes… yes, at the beginning. I did.”

Fuck.

“But then something changed. He became a different person almost, began demanding more. And then… it started.”

“The abuse.”

She didn’t need to confirm it. The pinched look in her face told him everything. He’d seen more than his share of battered and terrorized prostitutes to see the sad, familiar pattern. And while Tamara was definitely no hooker, he knew. Oh yes, he knew.

“I don’t think I even recognized it for what it was, not at first. He told me it was my evolution, my becoming what I really was. He enjoyed degrading me. He would whip me until my bottom… bled. Not often, but often enough for me to dread it. The idea, in fantasy, had always aroused me — though I’d never told him that.” She looked away. “I’m ashamed to admit that, but it’s the truth. The reality though… was something else. So much pain. It consumed me. Made me beg and plead. I agreed to anything he asked of me during those whippings. And afterward, he’d be so caring, so gentle, so loving. It made it almost… bearable.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Her eyes were tear bright when she looked at him once more. “Then he began making me fuck other men. With him, to start, but then he’d loan me out. I was his ‘party favor’ as he liked to call me. Thankfully, all the men were part of the Trust, and not one of them was anywhere near as brutal as Aaron. Except one.”

“Seaton. I fucking knew it.”

It wasn’t unusual for abusive men to gravitate toward other abusive men. Perhaps it was personality types that meshed? Or maybe it was the opportunity and possibility of expanding and deepening those patterns of abuse. Either way, he’d seen it before too.

“He liked to force me to make videos of us having sex, of him spanking me. He was the only one who did that, but it was always something he enjoyed.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

This time, Tamara blushed fiercely. “I don’t… want to answer that. Sir.”

He knew the question was incredibly unfair, even callous, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to get right down to it, to the raw core of this woman, to see who she really was. He suspected there was more to her than even she was telling him, but he had no real way of knowing.

But once he knew her, he’d have a chance at helping her.

Is that what this is, Eldon? Helping her? What if you and DeWinter aren’t so very different after all?

“Answer my question.” His cock was getting hard, but he didn’t know if it was because he was turning the figurative screws on her, or because he knew he was close now, to finally breaking through her defenses.

A truly vulnerable Tamara was a very appealing prospect indeed.

She wrung her hands in her lap as she nodded miserably. “I-I didn’t want to… like it. But I did. I still don’t understand why.”

“And it only encouraged him.”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice was tight, threatening to break. “It was that way every time, and Aaron… loved it. It wasn’t long before he only allowed me to be used by Liam. Eventually, I spent as much time with him as I did with my Mas — um, Aaron. Then they decided I would be his too.”

“Seaton’s. You became, what? His slave too?”

Her lip trembled ever so slightly as she slowly nodded. “They began to use me at the same time. They were rough, so rough, but…”

“You liked that too.”

“Yes.” The shame he saw in her eyes was both touching, and elicited an even more twisted arousal within him. “I didn’t know why — I still don’t, to this day. If they’d only just talked it out with me, helped me understand. Help all of us understand. Even then, I still wonder if it might have… worked. Somehow.”

Oh dear God.

Her voice dropped an octave, a surprising steeliness in it now. “But it was a weakness, my weakness. Another way to exploit me. And it only made things worse.”

“That’s not your fault. Any of it. They were supposed to protect you, not victimize you.”

“I know it. Now, I do. Then?” She shrugged. “When you’re down deep enough, even the darkest thoughts, the worst pain seems… normal. But, I need to finish this. You wanted all of it.”

It was Eldon’s turn to nod, his heart beginning to pound. His cock though was even harder than it had been before. What did that mean?

“Like things tend to do, it escalated. Got so much worse. I finally began to see it for what it was, that this wasn’t just a rough Master, a duty that I was required to perform as part of my Term. It had gone too far, even for me.” She shook her head, hugging herself. “My fantasies… they’d been so extreme before I’d volunteered. I saw the Term as a way to live them out, to see what I was capable of. The thought of making them a reality… it was so exciting, and scary. I was young, and stupid, and impulsive. But in the moment, you just can’t see that. Not about yourself.”

“Which is why what they did… it’s an even worse betrayal. Their job — a man’s job — is to recognize that. To protect you, sometimes even from yourself. And reel you in when you get out too far into deep water. But they…”

“Just fed me more line.” She took a shuddering breath, but continued. “One day, they told me they were going to make me into a toy, degrade me into something less than human. They told me they were going to pierce my clit, then brand my ass with their initials. That was even something from one of my fantasies, though I’d never confessed that to them. Maybe they thought it would excite me, but at that moment I was terrified. I knew it would finally be a point of no return if I were to let them do such things to me. So, I ran.”

“To Heller.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. The Trust… they’ve got members everywhere, in all walks of life. And a woman who fails to serve her Term… she’s marked, I guess. They make a big deal out of it. They would find me, and they’d bring me back. I knew it would be so much worse when they did too.” She looked at Eldon again. “Of course, I know now that I was wrong about that, that there are many members of the Trust who would never permit me to be returned, many that would never tolerate such… abuse. But I was so far down, my thoughts so completely warped by the way both of them had treated me, that I was like a caged, terrorized animal. Irrational. Running on instinct, mostly. I just had to run. So, I went to the one place I knew even the Trust had no control.”

She was trembling all over then, her eyes beginning to well. It broke his heart to see it.

“Come here, Tamara.” He needed to hold her, to show her not all men could be so evil. But his cock was still throbbing, hard as steel. It was a complete contradiction, one that made no sense whatsoever. How could he be so desperately aroused, despite the tale of her plight? Was he aroused because of the tale of her plight? Very little made sense anymore, but when he looked upon this beautiful, strong but broken, girl, that wasn’t so bad.

She made that not matter, if only for a little while.

A single tear broke and ran down her flushed cheek. But rather than wipe it away, she drew a shuddery breath, licking her red lips, and forcing a smile. “I hope you don’t think less of me, sir. I really… you wanted me to be honest.”

He reached out to her, and thankfully, she took his hand. Her hand was so soft, even delicate, the skin cool to the touch. As he held it tight, he drew her close, within the span of his knees. But rather than take her in his arms, he pressed her head down, until she laid her cheek upon his thigh. She let go a long, shuddering gasp as he stroked his fingers slowly through her silky hair.

“I could never think less of you, Tamara. Not ever. It’s okay now. You’re okay now.”

But the thoughts whirling in his mind as the beautiful woman hugged herself to him, her soft, wonderful breasts pillowing against his calves, told a very different story.

Tamara might very well be okay now, but the man stroking her hair… he was anything but.