Vonna Harper - Scarlet Cavern (Ellora's Cave).rtf

Scarlet Cavern
Vonna Harper

Scarlet Cavern By Vonna Harper
When she spotted a video on the Internet of her best friend being sexually abused, model and businesswoman Shana Galliher contacted Recovery Inc. to help her rescue Lindsay from a place called Scarlet Cavern.

From the moment she spotted her operative Ranger, she saw a man as seductive and dangerous as a burning candle or a blazing structure. If she'd ever met a more nakedly sexual creature, she couldn't remember. Watch it, Shana, she told herself. You don't know him, and you sure as hell can't trust him.

What she couldn't possibly comprehend was Ranger's connection to Scarlet Cavern, and he wasn't about to tell her. Instead, he focused on introducing her to that dark, dangerous and seductive world in a way she'd never forget, and maybe never recover from.

At first Ranger is very hesitant to introduce Shana into the lifestyle maintained by the owners of Scarlet Cavern. Her determination to save her friend makes him realize she will find a way into the bowels of hell with or without him. Finally, knowing he has no choice, Ranger agrees—but on his conditions.

Shana must undergo training in the dark world of bondage and underground movies. She must learn to lean on Ranger, to become, in essence, his sex slave. What she doesn't anticipate is her growing attraction to Ranger and his growing need to have her in his life. The training is intense, sometimes painful, but extremely arousing.

And it is only the beginning.

SCARLET CAVERN

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, September 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 787

Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-971-1

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

SCARLET CAVERN © 2004 VONNA HARPER

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by Martha Punches.

Cover art by Syneca.

SCARLET CAVERN

Vonna Harper

Prologue

“Are you alone?” sixteen-year-old Shana Galliher asked the girl on the other end of the phone line.

“Yeah. He left for work, finally.”

Shana sat up, no longer half asleep. “What about your mom?”

“Who knows? She and what’s-his-face had a fight earlier. When she took off, she said she didn’t know when she’d be back.”

“And she left you with him?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

Lindsay, who was Shana’s best friend and dream-sharer, didn’t immediately answer. “Sure,” Lindsay said at length, her tone unconvincing. “Why shouldn’t I be? After all, we both know the drill. Besides, he said he’d buy me a new outfit.”

In exchange for molesting you. Shana glanced at the clock in her bedroom, a little after 11 p.m. on a school night, not that it mattered. “I’m coming over,” she said.

“No! I mean, I didn’t call because I wanted to cry on your shoulder. I just thought, well…”

You don’t cry, not anymore. “My folks are out of town,” Shana said. “I told you about Grandma’s surgery, didn’t I? They’re going to be gone at least until the weekend.”

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. I just—look, I don’t know why I’m bothering you, all right.”

“That’s what best friends do,” Shana explained. Slipping out of bed, she reached for the clothes she’d been wearing earlier, not bothering with underwear. “Look, neither of us is going to be able to sleep now, right?”

Lindsay didn’t answer, but her shaky sigh reached across the three miles separating them.

“Hang tight,” Shana said. “I’ll be right there.”

Not giving Lindsay time to try to talk her out of it, she hung up the phone. Fortunately, her parents had made good on their promise to buy her a car as long as she kept her grades up. Although it would never win any beauty contests and could barely keep up in a race with a bicycle, the car was reliable transportation and a lot safer than walking. The trip should be enough for her to plan what she needed to say to Lindsay, shouldn’t it? What she needed to do.

* * * * *

No, it wasn’t, Shana acknowledged as she pulled into the dirt driveway of the little rental Lindsay lived in with her mom and her mother’s latest boyfriend, a man who creeped her out whenever she was in the same room with him. He never looked her in the eye. Instead, his disgusting gaze said he wanted to get his hands on her C-cup breasts.

Lindsay was sitting on the dinky front porch in her faded nightgown, her feet on the top step, arms locked around her bent knees as if trying to hug herself. Thanks to the army of moths around the dim bulb, Shana couldn’t read Lindsay’s expression like she needed to.

What could she possibly say to the girl she considered her sister, a girl who shared her love of track and science, a girl who couldn’t remember her father and knew there’d never be the money for college?

“You want to blow this town?” Shana asked as she sat next to the shivering Lindsay. “We could pack our bathing suits and get on the next plane for Hawaii. Spend the next month on the beach getting tanned and staring at male surfers.”

“I don’t want anything to do with boys.”

For a moment, Shana let the words hang. She couldn’t imagine not being interested in boys. In truth, for the past year or so it had been darn hard to think of anything else, and if Jeff didn’t ask her to the prom…

Knock it off! This isn’t about Jeff or you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. She wanted to suggest they go inside, but she hated being in the tiny, crowded, dirty place and knew it was even worse for Lindsay.

“No.”

Because she’d expected that, she simply shrugged. “Was it the same as the last time?” she prodded. “He’d been drinking?”

“What does it matter!” Lindsay snapped. Then she sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“It’s me.” Lindsay leaned forward and covered her face with her hands. “I should know how to stop him. Fight. Something.”

“He’s huge and with that belly—”

“I’m faster than him. But when he comes after me, I get so scared.” She took a shaky breath. “I hate being scared and feeling dirty. Hate everything about…it.”

It was rape, and she and Lindsay knew that. “I, ah, was it like before when he, you know, put his thing in your mouth?”

“No,” Lindsay admitted with her face still in her hands. “The last time he couldn’t get it up, but this time he—you don’t want to hear this.”

No, I don’t. But I think you need to say it. “Lindsay, you can’t keep it bottled up inside you. So, so he got an erection. What-what did he do with it?”

“Put it in me.”

“What?” The moment the word was out of her mouth, she couldn’t believe she’d said something so stupid.

“Made me lie on the floor with my legs spread while he—it hurt.”

“Bad?”

“Not like the first time.”

Despite her revulsion, Shana struggled to comprehend what it had felt like. She was a virgin although Jeff and a couple of other guys had been trying to talk her out of the status for months now, and she was giving it serious consideration. She’d taken the health classes, gotten the talk from her mother, seen enough R-rated movies to know what sex was like.

But rape and sex weren’t the same thing; her mother had made it clear that no man had a right to force her to do something she didn’t want to. And what’s-his-face had been forcing Lindsay since shortly after he’d moved in right after Christmas. Sex was supposed to be great, right? Just thinking about having Jeff’s fingers and penis between her legs turned her cheeks hot, but if some fat drunk man was doing it, she’d barf.

“Talk to Mrs. Albers,” she said, referring to their track coach. “She meant it when she said she was there for anything. Or the police. They’d—”

“No!” Lindsay scrambled to her feet and started pacing. “No! And you can’t say anything either.”

“He’s breaking the law.”

“I don’t want anyone to know, to have to tell…”

“You told me.”

“You’re different.”

“You have to let someone know and who better than me? We tell each other everything, right? Lindsay, I can’t stand not doing anything.”

“I’ll get him to stop.” Lindsay sounded desperate. In the inadequate light, her face looked bloodless. “I will. The next time he comes near me, I’ll scream and kick him where it’ll do the most good.”

With everything in her, Shana wanted to believe Lindsay. But although her friend was the school’s fastest female sprinter and hadn’t gotten below an A in any science class, she had little self-confidence. Shana believed she knew why. With a father who didn’t seem to care whether she was alive, a mother who acted like it was Lindsay’s fault she’d been born, and four older siblings who’d cut and run the moment they turned eighteen, how was Lindsay supposed to feel worthwhile?

Sometimes—rarely—Shana wished she’d chosen someone who didn’t live from crisis to crisis as her best friend, but Lindsay needed her.

Lindsay knew things about her she’d never told anyone, like her dreams of becoming a model because Lindsay understood dreams and secrets and caring.

And that made them close, bonded.

“Come home with me,” she finally came up with. “You can leave your mother a note.”

“Your parents—”

“Are out of town. Besides, they love you.”

“They wouldn’t if they knew.” Lindsay stepped close. “You haven’t said anything, have you? You promised you wouldn’t.”

“No, I haven’t,” Shana admitted. Not for the first time, she hated herself for agreeing to silence when she should be raising heaven and earth getting Lindsay out of this nightmare. Some day, when she was older and in control, she’d become Lindsay’s savior.

Somehow.

It was a promise.

Chapter One

Fifteen years later

Shana stepped inside the nondescript door and reluctantly closed it behind her. The interior was too dark and quiet. Her every instinct screamed at her to return to the successful, in-control life she’d carved for herself, but of course she couldn’t.

Until she’d learned whether Lindsay was dead or alive, nothing else mattered.

When her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realized she was in a long, narrow hall. Recovery should have—what—certainly a more impressive looking office. She’d been led to believe the private organization had connections that put the FBI and Secret Service to shame, but she had her doubts. Shit, it had cost her a thousand dollars just to get enough information about Recovery to understand the organization dedicated itself to doing whatever it took to help people regain something or someone they’d lost. Their methods weren’t always legal but apparently they refused to do anything that would put anyone’s life at risk. If the head of security for a precious gems company had lied to her, she’d—what, sue the man while maybe Lindsay’s life lay in the balance?

Thoughts of what might have happened to the woman she still considered her sister sent Shana down the hall. In the years since she and Lindsay had shared everything, she’d turned her body into a finely honed tool and become the model she’d dreamed of back when Lindsay was living a nightmare. Most times she accepted her body as her meal ticket, but today she was grateful for her muscular legs, the product of endless hours in the gym and running track. If she didn’t like what she saw about Recovery, she’d turn tail and run.

Only she couldn’t.

Are you still alive, Lindsay? Please, you have to be!

The sign on the door at the end of the hall looked as if it had been nailed up by someone who’d never used a hammer before, but when she depressed the latch, she noted the door was steel. There were two deadbolts. As she stepped inside, she caught a humming sound. A bank of glowing monitors on a far wall explained a lot about the sound. Whoever was behind the San Diego branch of Recovery relied on high-tech.

At first glance, the room looked empty, but that was because it was so large that taking it all in took time. There were several cubicles, each with its own computer. Intense, casually dressed men and women hunched over the units.

A thin middle-aged woman stood and walked toward her, her gaze never leaving Shana. “You’re looking for Galen, right?” she said.

“I—yes, that’s the name I was given. But before I see him, could you tell me more about what happens here?”

“There isn’t much I can say because we’re dedicated to our clients’ privacy, but we do things people can’t on their own like—for example, we just helped a man set up a trust for the daughter he hadn’t seen since she was an infant. He couldn’t find her on his own. Now they’re starting to build a relationship.”

“It sounds wonderful.”

“Sometimes it is. Other times—there.” The woman pointed at a room to the left. “He’s expecting you.”

“Oh,” Shana managed. She didn’t know what she’d expected, maybe armed guards, maybe being frisked, something. Instead, no one seemed concerned that an outsider had walked into the middle of things. Then she realized everyone was watching her.

Could they feel her tension, her fear, the undeniable sexual excitement spawned by the unknown?

Turned on? Shit, Shana, are you insane?!

Pretending indifference, she thanked the woman. Like the first one, this door was substantial, nearly impenetrable. This new room was maybe a tenth the size of the outer one and consisted of a large cluttered desk with several well-worn easy chairs clustered around it. Behind the desk, nearly obscured by it, sat a man who couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall. Like the woman out front, he’d said goodbye to his forties, and like the woman, his gaze locked on her. She was used to drawing attention and most times took it for what it was worth which wasn’t much. But right now wasn’t about her. Only Lindsay mattered.

The man had almost no hair and from its straggly appearance, he couldn’t care less. His shirt looked as if he’d pulled it out of the dryer after it had sat there for days. His hands were large compared to the rest of him, and when he stood and came around the desk toward her, she wondered when he’d last bothered to eat.

“I’m Galen,” he said, holding out his hand. “And you’re Shana.”

“Yes.” He hadn’t invited her to sit down so she continued to stand. The room smelled of old wood and dust, yet his computer setup looked as if a person could run the space program from it.

“All right, Shana, I know you have a lot of questions about Recovery, but first I want to give you an idea of how efficient we are. If you don’t mind, I’d like to bring the operative you’ll be working with in now.”

The operative? Like a human being?

Before she could decide whether to make a point of the odd term, the door she’d just come through opened again, and a man filled the space. Hell, he did more than fill it, he commanded it.

His height? Well over six feet and as hard as a seasoned professional athlete. The black and silver Oakland Raiders logo T-shirt he wore seemed painted on muscle and bone. For a moment she couldn’t take her eyes off the pirate figure in the middle of his chest. Was the man encased in the shirt the embodiment of the pirate, savage and aggressive—taker of things or people he desired?

An icy fist gripped her heart, making it hard to breathe. At the same time, she felt rawly alive. With an effort, she continued her appraisal. He stood with his legs slightly spread, impressive chest muscles forcing his arms out a bit from his body. He needed a shave. Surely once he’d run a razor over his chin he’d look less dark, less shadowed. Surely. He also needed a haircut although the unkempt length added to the uncivilized male look. His eyes were coal-black, deep-set and large, penetrating.

Suddenly scared, Shana forced her attention off the big, dark, maybe deadly male.

“Shana,” Galen said. “This is Ranger.”

Ranger? Doesn’t he have a last name?

Shaking hands with Galen had been easy but no way in hell was she ready to let this-this animal-like creature touch her. She managed a nod at the still-silent man and sank into the nearest chair. She couldn’t begin to relax. “What do you mean, operative?” she asked. Damn, her voice held a husky note, the voice of a woman turned on.

Galen looked at Ranger, obviously waiting for him to answer her question. When Ranger only continued his predator-like perusal of her, Galen sighed. “The website you directed us to when you first contacted Recovery—the Scarlet Cavern—how much do you know about it?”

For an instant, all air seemed to leave the room. This is important, she thought. Maybe the most important thing you’ll do in your life. Life-changing.

“Not much,” she admitted in that sex-deepened tone. “Just what I saw from the public pages.”

“Which are practically useless.” Ranger spoke for the first time, his voice low and rough. “What’s there gets past the morality patrol. Only those who have been allowed access get the real picture.”

“And you have access?” she asked, cold again.

He nodded.

“In what context?” she demanded. When he only returned her stare, she switched her attention to Galen who struck her as being tenser than he’d been at the beginning. “All right, so all I have are the teasers to go by.” She suppressed a shudder. “But what I saw—the short movie clips of my best friend being beaten—naked, tied and gagged…” She took a deep breath. “How much worse can it get?”

“Enough,” Ranger muttered. He stepped all the way in the room and leaned against Galen’s desk. He’d positioned himself, maybe deliberately, so his cock was nearly at her eye level. Ignore that he seemed to be saying.

This isn’t going to work! I can’t—on the verge of blurting she’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t want to know any more than she did about the perverted world of Scarlet Cavern, a single image from the clips of Lindsay burst to the forefront. Despite the video’s jerky quality, she’d seen several whip blows strike Lindsay’s breasts. Someone had fastened metal clamps to Lindsay’s nipples and each blow had caused them to jerk. She’d had nightmares about the awful sound of strips of leather striking flesh and Lindsay’s moans under the leather gag. The worst had come when the camera panned up to Lindsay’s face. Her eyes had been huge and helpless. Alive.

...