Own Me, Daddy (Dangerous Daddy Book 2)

She could feel her body being jostled and dragged but was powerless to fight back. It was as if she were moving through sand. Everything seemed slow and muted. Phoebe felt a blast of cold air against her cheek. Mrs. Ludtz must have taken her outside. Once again she felt as if she were being dragged then some kind of chilled metal surface brushed her bare arm. Phoebe shivered. Her thin yoga pants and t-shirt were no match for the October wind whipping off the bay. There was a hand on her head, forcing her down, pushing her body into a bent position. Although she couldn’t open her eyes, she could feel a heavy musty canvas draping being tossed over her. Then everything seemed to move again. Phoebe could hear the crunch of gravel and the distant excited shouts of the midshipmen. Swallowing down a wave of nausea, Phoebe tried to force her lips to move, to scream for help. All that came was a weak groan as she was thrown about in what must have been a wheelbarrow.

“Hello there. Captain Dobson was looking for you,” said Mrs. Ludtz.

Phoebe struggled to maintain consciousness. Struggled to make out the conversation Mrs. Ludtz seemed to be having with a midshipman but whatever Mrs. Ludtz had stuck in her neck was taking full effect.

“Are you sure, Mrs. Ludtz? I’m supposed to be guarding the bonfire.”

“He seemed pretty insistent. I’ll stay here and keep watch till you return. I brought a wheelbarrow full of sand to top off all the buckets. You can help me when you return.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Ludtz. I’ll be right back.”

No! Don’t leave me with her! Phoebe’s mind raged and fought but the drug was too strong.

All sound became muted. She could no longer feel her body.

Everything went black.

The cold hard feel of the…something.

The smell of wood and…something else…something acrid and strong.

The raucous shouts and…and what?

Bright hazy spots of color.

Slowly Phoebe came awake. Desperately, she tried to hold on to whatever she could sense, some sort of anchor to bring her back to consciousness.

The cold hard feel of the ground.

The smell of pine needles and…what?

The raucous shouts and chanting

Bright spots of orange and red.

Languidly, everything was becoming clearer. Nothing was distinct though, as if she were experiencing it all underwater. Lying on her side, she tried to move her arms, to push herself up to a sitting position but it was no use. Her arms were secured behind her back. Willing her limbs to move, she tested her legs. They too were tied. Gradually her senses were awakening, coming out of their drugged fog.

She was lying in the grass.

It was the smell of wood and…gasoline.

Male voices were chanting…Burn the Mad Monk! Burn the Mad Monk!

Flames. Fire. Dancing fire surrounding her.

A primal surge of survival ripped through her body. Using her core, Phoebe forced her body into a sitting position. She was in an enclosed place. Large black poles formed a sort of teepee around her. There was no exit. Just one continuous circle of poles. Through the cracks in the poles she could see indistinct forms and torches.

Oh my fucking god! She was inside the bonfire.

A shower of sparks rained down on her bare feet as curls of smoke began to wisp and move between the wooden poles. Panicked, Phoebe shifted backwards. They must have lit the bonfire. Finally, finding her voice, she began to scream with every ounce of strength she possessed.

Burn the Mad Monk! Burn the Mad Monk!

As the flames began to spread from pole to pole, the chanting became louder. No one could hear her screams. Phoebe tried to kick at the wooden poles but it was no use. She knew from watching the men build the wooden teepee that would become the bonfire, that they had secured each pole with heavy wire to prevent the structure from collapsing. Why! Why hadn’t it occurred to Michael or her that Mrs. Ludtz would be attracted to the bonfire? It was perfect. It would allow her to succeed where she had failed with the first two victims.

It would allow her to burn her victim alive…to burn Phoebe alive…to fulfill the lore of the wendigo.

The confined space was now brightly lit as the flames traveled from pole to pole. She choked as thick smoke began to surround her. She gave out one last feeble scream before collapsing backward.

Her thoughts were of Michael and what could have been.

“Michael,” she cried out with her last breath.

“Did you hear something?” asked Michael as he watched the flames from the fire begin to creep up the poles, lighting the night sky.

“Can’t hear nothing over all this shouting,” groused the sheriff. “As I said, there’s no trace of her. She’s crazy but not so crazy as to have alluded all detection until now. Maybe the robe was to throw us off the scent. She could be halfway to California for all we know.”

Michael crossed his arms over his chest as he took in what the sheriff was trying to tell him. “No,’ he disagreed. “I think the only reason why she alluded detection is that no one thought to really look into the matter until Phoebe came along, otherwise we would have easily learned of the connection between Mrs. Ludtz and the first victim. I think the woman is no longer stable or thinking clearly. She’s here all right.”

They had searched the woods and surrounding area. There was no trace of her.

Once again, Michael was relieved to know Phoebe was safe and sound in his home…in his bathtub or perhaps his bed. He smiled at the thought of how her green eyes sparkled as her pretty cheeks tinged with pink when she’d been caught disobeying. Damn she was fun when she was mad! When this was all over, he was going to ask her to stay. He wasn’t sure how life with him at the academy could compete with all New York had to offer, but he was damn well going to try. In the short time he had known her he now couldn’t imagine life without her. She was so full of energy and fire. Challenging him at every turn. He loved how she stood up to him. Never intimidated by his rank or even his size.

After learning her true name, he had devoured every article she had ever written, admiring her all the more for her intelligence and commitment to a story. Although, those articles also had him clenching his fists in frustration and fear. It was obvious this was not the first time she had run headlong into danger for the sake of a story. The one about the mafia and the sanitation scandal came to mind as did the one about the sex trafficking ring. It was only a matter of time before she got herself in too deep. Well, as far as he was concerned, she had him to protect her now. Whether it was in New York or at the academy, he planned to be by her side. He just hoped she felt the same way.

Lost in his thoughts, he watched as the dark outline of the teepee made from wooden poles was engulfed in flame. Soon it would reach the stuffed dummy meant to be the mad monk effigy.

Again, he thought he heard a scream.

“You don’t hear that?” he asked the sheriff again.

A midshipman standing nearby responded, “Isn’t it great, Commander? We put a small speaker in the dummy so that it would sound like the mad monk was screaming!”

The sheriff shook his head. “Sounds damn creepy to me, but then I never understood this whole mad monk night business anyhow.”

Michael was only partially listening…there was just something about that scream.

“God damn it! Everyone stop. Silence!” roared Michael.

Every midshipman immediately stilled at his command.

There it was again but fainter…Phoebe.

“It’s not the speaker. Phoebe is trapped inside the bonfire,” shouted Michael as he lunged toward the burning wooden structure.

Strong hands pulled him back. Michael fought against the restraint.

“Commander! Stop! You can’t just pull on the poles, the whole thing could collapse on her,” advised Mark Dobson.

Michael stopped struggling. Jesus Christ! Phoebe! He needed to think, to strategize. Taking in the scene, he calmed his mind and focused. Surrounding the bonfire were buckets of sand and numerous fire extinguishers for safety. He also reasoned that it had to be Mrs. Ludtz who put Phoebe there, which means the woman had to have found an open space in the poles to push Phoebe through. If he could find that space, he could drag her out to safety. Praying to god she was still alive.

“You’re right, Captain. Organize the men. Grab the buckets and extinguishers and get the flames out. Sheriff, go left. I’ll go right. Search through the flames for any gaps in the poles,” shouted Michael.

Michael began to circle the large structure searching for a gap. Desperately listening for Phoebe’s cries. If she was still screaming it meant she was still alive and there was still hope. He could hear the shouts of alarm roll through the midshipmen like a wave. Everyone sprang into action.

He met up with the sheriff on the other side. “Anything?”

“No. We need these flames out,” responded the sheriff, his jaw tight with anxiety.

“My men are working on it. Keep looking.”

Michael kept up his search. Fear gnawed at his gut. The only frantic thought in his mind played over and over again.

I can’t lose her.

I can’t lose her.

I can’t lose her.

Finally, he saw his opening. A midshipman had tossed a bucket of sand at the base of the bonfire. Michael could see a small gap. He would barely be able to get his arm and shoulder in but it would have to be enough. With Phoebe’s petite frame, he was certain that was how she’d been forced inside the structure. Falling to his knees, he shouted for help as he braced his hands against the still smoldering poles. Ignoring the intense, searing pain from the heat, he pushed his arm through and swung it in an arch, searching for her.

Nothing.

He swung his arm around in an arc again.

Nothing.

She was in there. He was certain of it.

Shoving his shoulders against the two poles, he looked up to see the now compromised structure as it shifted and groaned.

“Get back! Get back!” he shouted to his men.

“But Professor Phoebe, Commander! We’re not leaving her to die!” exclaimed one of the midshipmen from her class as the others nodded resolutely.

Michael swung his arm again. This time he felt it. The soft fabric of her pants. Running his hand down her calf, he latched onto her ankle as if both their lives depended on it.

Because they did.

There was no life for him without her…of that he was now certain.

“Ready men? Pull on my legs!” shouted Michael.

He could feel strong hands grab his legs and yank hard. When his right arm cleared the structure with Phoebe’s slim leg, he reached his left arm in to grab her other ankle.

“Pull,” he shouted.

“Heave,” yelled Captain Dobson to the men.

Michael’s body slid along the now muddied ground. The sound of splintering wood rent the air. The structure swayed.

“Heave, men! Heave!”

Another pull and both Michael and Phoebe were free of the structure but not out of danger. Rising to his legs, he swept her inert form into his arms and ran, shouting for his men to follow.

They had barely cleared the space before there was the ghastly sound of wood splintering and cracking. One by one the poles began to fall like dominoes, till there was nothing but a still smoking heap of logs.

Michael fell to his knees with Phoebe still clasped in his arms. Breathing heavily, he could only hold her.

Never in his life had he been more afraid.

She was so still.

He didn’t want to look down into her face. Didn’t want to confirm what he feared…that he had been too late. That he had failed to protect his love.

“Commander,” said a gentle yet anxious voice.

Michael looked up into the determined eyes of one of his midshipmen. He had a first aid kit at his feet.

“Commander, you have to put her down. We have to check for signs of…signs of life.”

His men had taken off their robes to create a makeshift bed for Phoebe so she wouldn’t be on the cold ground. Michael laid her down gently. Black smudges of soot marred her nose and mouth, the rest of her face was deathly pale. Pinching her nose between his two fingers, he pressed his lips to her own and breathed. He could hear the distant sirens from the ambulance as it drove up onto the grassy quad.

He breathed again.

And again.

Nothing.

“God dammit, princess. You better not fucking die on me. I command you to open your eyes,” he shouted in frustration.

Her eyelids fluttered then opened. Her beautiful green eyes shimmered with tears.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to talk to me like that,” she whispered. Her voice hoarse and raw from the smoke inhalation.

Michael’s own eyes teared up. Cupping her face with his hand, he replied, “Finally, a command you obeyed!”

The rest of their conversation was drowned out by exuberant shouts of “Hooyah!”

The paramedics placed an oxygen mask over her face and strapped her to the gurney. All the while, his men looked on anxiously. It seemed he was not the only one Phoebe had charmed in her short time at the academy.

Looking over his shoulder, Michael saw the sheriff standing nearby. “You had better hope you find that woman before I do, Sheriff,” he warned.

The sheriff nodded. “Wouldn’t blame you one bit, Colonel. You head on to the hospital. We’ll find her. Don’t you worry about that.”

Michael gave the older man a nod before hopping into the ambulance beside Phoebe.