Nobody's Perfect (52 page)

Damián and Dad were better shots. If a sharpshooter was needed, Damián would have the best chance of hitting the target, but he and Dad spent a morning once a month at a firing range, too. Target practice relaxed them both.

The infrared instruments hadn't shown any body heat in the front of the house, though, so he doubted Marc would have to fire on anyone. Most likely, their targets would be back here. There only seemed to be four or five rooms in the cabin to clear.

Grant monitored communications near the SUV, but had her rifle ready, too, in case anyone tried to escape. She guarded the most likely exit, unless the rich bastard had access to a helicopter or plane. Regardless, Grant would make certain the bastard didn't escape, even if something happened to Damián and the others here at the cabin. With luck, he and Dad could take the old man down before shots were fired.

He didn't want Savi endangered by a stray bullet.

Working in tandem with Dad at the back door of the cabin, they immobilized the guard who'd been more intent on his skin magazine than doing his job. Damián hoped Marc didn't encounter any resistance out front. By their intel, though, there were only four guards—pretty light security—in which case, this was the last one. He'd probably been guarding the perimeter of the cabin alone. Dad trussed him up and gave the signal to move in.

Savi's high-pitched scream ripped through his gut. Rage surfaced; this time, he found it impossible to ignore it. When Damián got his hands on the bastard, he would pay for everything he'd ever done to Savannah, including whatever he'd just done to make her scream.

Damián had everything he needed packed away in the SUV to right those wrongs.

The sound of a leather flogger against skin elicited another piercing scream, letting them know in which direction they'd find her. While Damián wanted to charge in, Dad's hand on his shoulder and a motion to take it slowly, stopped him between two closed doors on opposite sides of the hallway. The lash of the flogger and an exhausted moan from Savi told them which door to break down.

"He will never own your body the way I do, Savannah. Never."

Savi's strained voice made him ache. "I am Damián's. Always."

Before the man could strike another blow, Dad booted open the door and Damián charged in. The man he remembered from the entrance of the mansion—who he'd thought at one time was Savannah's sugar daddy—held the leather barbed flogger in the air high above his head. Damián aimed his sidearm at the man's hand and the cracking report rent the air as the flogger was blown out of his hand.

"What the fuck…?"

Damián stormed into the room and slammed against the man, shoving him away from Savi and against the wall.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Damián lifted the mask and waited for recognition to dawn. He wanted the bastard to have no doubt who he was dealing with—and why. A sidelong glance at Savi, tied and strapped to an ottoman, her ass and back raw and bleeding from the flogger, and probably a whip, as well, added more fuel to the fire raging inside him.

He turned his attention to the man he'd so easily overpowered. Damián kept his voice calm, knowing he needed to get Savi to safety before he could play with his prey. "You'll pay for every mark you've ever put on her body or mind, you fucking bag of shit."

Impotent rage made the man's face grow splotchy. "You'll never own her the way I do. I placed
my
brand on her."

Savi moaned. "No. Not yours…Damián's good girl."

Something inside him swelled with pride. Even in the white-hot haze of pain, she remembered. His good girl. Fucking right! Now they needed to get her out of here and to a hospital.

Dad squeezed Damián's shoulder and motioned for him to see to Savi. He probably didn't want Damián doing prison time for killing the motherfucking bastard. Dad repeated the gesture more forcefully and Damián took a step back. They'd keep conversation to a minimum.

Dad grabbed the bastard and threw him across the room into the wall where he slumped to a heap on the floor. With his identity hidden, Dad could get away with more than Damián might. Damián still planned to get his later and didn't care who knew his name.

The bastard sputtered as he stood again. "You're on
my
property." He stabbed his finger toward Savi. "
She
is my property. Leave or I'll report you to the police."

Dad pushed the man into the corner and knocked his feet out from under him. "Shut the fuck up. Now."

Well, so much for the plan of anonymity. Dad was as pissed as Damián.

Savi's father didn't defy Dad's order; he cowered in the corner like the rodent he was. No longer worried about having to defend Savi or Dad, Damián turned his attention to Savi, moaning in pain, hair soaked, eyes closed. He heard Dad radio Marc and Grant the all-clear code.

His full attention now on Savi, Damián couldn't bear to look at how the bastard had left her skin raw and broken. He knelt in front of her and focused on her face instead. The throbbing in Damián's stump, rubbed sore from crawling across the desert, didn't begin to compare with what Savi was experiencing. At least he knew she was alive, although the welts and cuts on her backside would leave yet more scars on her body—and mind.

He brushed the hair from her forehead, dampened by sweat. "I'm here,
bebé
. You're safe. It's all over now."

"She's dead, isn't she?" Her voice was barely a whisper, her throat raw from her screams.

"No,
querida
, Marisol's fine. You protected her well."

She shook her head. "No. I remember. He killed her. Oh, God." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I watched him kill her. How could I shut it out all these years? I thought she'd left because she didn't want me." A sob tore from her throat.

Years? Who was she talking about? "Where are you, Savi? Who's dead?"

"Maman."

The god-damned bastard killed her mother? While his daughter watched?

I'll get justice for you,
mi sueño.

Savi—Savannah—
would
have justice before Damián left this cabin.

With the opening of old wounds, would Savi be able to reclaim Savannah as her own? He might be able to help start the process by calling her that again, gauging her reaction.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that, Savannah."

A voice from behind him said, "She's a filthy whore, just like…"

The crunch of fist on bone silenced the man. Damián glanced over to see blood trickling from the corner of the bastard's mouth. Dad flexed his fist a few times to work out the sting, but Damián knew he was probably grinning behind his mask. The man had no tolerance for abusers, murderers, or pedophiles—and Savannah's father was all three. Damián gave Dad the thumbs-up sign.

Savannah moaned, drawing his attention back to her. She lifted her head and opened her pain-glazed eyes, struggling to focus on Damián. "Where's Mari?" When he didn't answer fast enough, her eyes opened wider, and she struggled against the bonds. "I need my baby! Take me to her!"

She must be rolling in and out of the past and present. He needed to ground her, bring her back, and keep her focused. "Breathe, Savita. Marisol is safe. They didn't get her. She's with Karla in Denver. They'll fly out here as soon as we give them the go-ahead."

Savannah slumped against the ottoman in relief and a new spate of tears trickled from her eyes. He reached out to unbuckle the strap around her waist. The welts the strap had made showed how hard his warrior woman had fought the restraint. Next he moved to her ankles, as Dad came over to release the ropes binding her wrists to the ottoman legs.

The discharge of a weapon sent Damián sprawling over Savannah's bleeding back to protect her just as Dad covered her head. Damián's calf burned like a motherfucker above the prosthesis. He'd probably irritated the stump with all this activity.

Savannah's father screamed. "Jesus Christ! I'm shot!"

Looking across the room at the bastard, Damián saw blood trickling from the bastard's thumb. A pansy-ass .22 lay on the floor beside him. Damián's attention turned to the doorway where he recognized Marc, still wearing his ski mask.

If Marc hadn't been there, there was no telling where the bastard's bullet might have landed. "Nice shot, man."

Marc shrugged. "Out of practice. I was aiming for his chest."

Again, they were off the plan with all the chatter, but Damián shook his head, glad Marc had their backs. At least he'd gotten the weapon out of the bastard's hand—and hadn't spoiled Damián plans for later. The worthless piece of shit needed to suffer longer than he would have if Marc had been a better marksman.

As Savi's father sat huddled in the corner blubbering about his superficial wound, Marc's attention turned to Savannah and he hurried across the room, opening his medical bag as he moved into action.

Dad gently touched Savannah on the head. "You're in good hands, hon. I'm going to take out the trash now."

"I'm bleeding!" The bastard's continued shouts made it clear he'd be a good candidate for what Damián had in mind for him later. "I'm the one who needs a doctor, not that dirty…"

Again, Damián heard Dad's fist make contact with the man's jaw. This time the shithead slumped over. As Dad hauled the piece of shit out the door, Damián returned his focus to Savannah's face. Her eyes were closed again. Under the circumstances, tuning out her pain might be the best thing.

"
Cara
, tell me the truth this time. Any allergies to pain meds?"

Damián wondered why he thought she'd lie, but Savannah shook her head. "No. None."

Marc filled a syringe and injected something into Savannah's hip. Damián wondered where a civilian had scored whatever narcotics he must have given her, but he was just grateful Doc could take away some of the pain his girl was experiencing.

Marc pulled out a bottle of water that carried a medical label and opened several packets of gauze. Apparently, he'd scored all kinds of supplies for this mission. Marc poured the water over the wounds on her back, ass, and thighs, causing Savannah to moan, then very gently dabbed away the excess blood and carefully cleaned the area with the gauze.

She hissed at the touch of the gauze against her wounds, her body growing stiff as she fought against the pain.

Damián stroked her cheek and crooned to her. "Shhh. It's over now. You're safe." A glance at her back told him a couple of the lacerations were deep enough to require stitches.

Fucking bastard would pay.

Marc applied some kind of cream to the superficial cuts. He bandaged the two deepest cuts. Savi moaned again at the contact against her raw skin.

"Sorry,
cara
. Almost done."

Savannah nodded and Damián stroked her hair. "That's my brave girl. Don't fight it anymore. Go to your safe place now."

A sob tore from her. "I tried not to scream, but I couldn't hold it back in the end."

"Aw,
bebé
. Your screams led me to you faster, just like in the hotel. You did everything perfectly. Just hang in there. Doc…
Marc
will have you fixed up in no time, and we'll get you out of here."

"I wouldn't say the things he wanted me to. I wouldn't let him control me again."

She'd fought so hard. Such a brave warrior.

"I'm so proud of you, Savannah."

More tears flowed from her closed eyes, but she didn't tell him to stop calling her Savannah this time. "You just let it out,
querida
."

"I tried, but I couldn't stay in the moment. I wanted to escape. I wanted to be with you instead."

With him? He didn't understand what that had to do with staying in the moment, but he needed for her to stay calm. "That's only for our special times together,
bebé
." He brushed her hair behind her ear and bent over to kiss her, feeling a pain in his lower leg. "Shhh. Rest, Savita. I'm here now."

Her body soon relaxed as the meds took affect. The sound of the SUV pulling up outside told him they would soon be able to transport her out of here to a trauma unit in Palm Springs.

Marc put some of the supplies back in the bag. "Damián, we're going to need to call for air transport. Savi's not going to be able to stand the SUV ride on those rugged back roads."

"Savannah. Her name is Savannah."

Marc nodded, patted Savannah on the leg, one of the few places she hadn't been cut to shreds, and radioed Grant to place the call. The sooner she got to a hospital, the better, even if the call brought the police out here. Her comfort and health came first.

He also wanted her checked from head to toe so they could document everything the bastard had done to her. At last, that piece of shit would get what had been coming to him since the first time he'd raped his daughter, but if Damián found out he or that
cabron
, Lyle, had raped her again, Damián would hunt them down again, cut off their dicks, and cram them down their fucking throats.

Focus on Savannah now.

He stroked her hair. For the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he offered up a silent prayer. Jesús,
help her pull through with minimal damage
. Savannah was a fighter, a survivor. The mental and emotional trauma would have to be dealt with later, once her body healed. He hoped she'd let him help her get through this, as well.

Rage surfaced with the beast as it woke and raised its head.

Not yet
.
But soon.
Damián would stay behind to finish this long-overdue mission. Then he'd go after Lyle.

Savannah struggled to get off the ottoman and Damián placed his hand on the back of her head. "No,
bebé
. Lie still. Do not move."

She gave up the fight and sank against the ottoman, letting her body go limp. He wasn't sure if she was still conscious or not.

Damián felt a tug on his pants and boot. "You stay still, too, son. We need to pack this wound." Damián looked down at his leg as Dad cut away the desert-digital pants, bloodied above his prosthesis.

"Fuck, son. I should have patted him down. Getting rusty at this shit in my old age."