Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 30

The Story Continues in

Saviours

Mastering the Virgin

Part Seventeen

Saviours

Saviours

Richard

“Go. Find Charlotte.”

White-faced, glossy-eyed and reluctant, she leaves. Images of black-masked men, gunfire and smoke headlined across my brain, the offices are under attack. I must deal with that, but I have sent my beloved Elizabeth to the safest place I know; the penthouse apartment under Charlotte’s care.

She’s proved her survival skills….

…. and her loyalty….

Elizabeth has only just been rescued by Charlotte from abduction by traffickers, and is still recovering emotionally from the experience. My gut clutching, panic wells up in me at the thought of her reaction to what is happening now….

She’s as safe as it’s possible to be….

Get a grip.

Do your job….

Think….

Act.

I take another look at the security monitors, then lean in closer at what I see….

Christ!

The building’s on fire….

Elizabeth….

And I sent her up….

Snatching at my mobile, I ring Elizabeth’s number…. It rings….

…. Then I realise I’m hearing the ringtone from the other side of the room: Elizabeth’s phone sits there, flashing at me.

Fuck!

Charlotte….

I stab at my contacts.

Christ, she’s not in there….

Of course, I’ve always contacted her through James to avoid any…. issues….

Her Dom.

The intercom….

I tap in the code for the penthouse suite but hear only the crackle of static….

Lines must be cut….

How far has the fire spread?

And I set off at a run….

Flush them out….

All the fucking women that have gone through his hands over the years….

…. Hundreds of them….

He could have taken any of them….

…. Had them doing whatever he wanted….

Bech snorts a laugh to himself, but there is no humour in it.

He’s in a position to insist….

So, what’s the fucking deal with this one?

Still, a little ‘interpretation’ of orders….

The bitch’ll not make it alive out of this….

…. And good riddance….

A tall man in casual slacks and shirt bursts from a side-door at ground-floor level, a cloth pressed over his mouth and nose, followed by a fire-crew hot on his tail.

Bech mutters under his breath in recognition, eyes slitting as he watches.

That’s Haswell….

The man takes the briefest of looks around him, then up. The smoke, black and menacing, is billowing from windows right up the height of the skyscraper now. Flames flicker out from some floors, licking up the side of the building. Anyone more than a few floors up has no chance of escape.

Haswell jerks a phone from his pocket, tapping in a number and after a short pause starts talking into it. After a moment, palm pressed over his other ear, he starts shouting into the phone.

Bech grabs a clipboard and his radio, gets out of the car and angles closer to the billionaire, a spot where a uniformed officer can loiter unnoticed.

*****