At first she thought he meant to lace her back into that suspension harness and string her up from the ceiling once more. Instead, it appeared he had other plans. “Hold please,” Lino said, handing the leash to a surprised looking Derek. Lino went to the back wall and threw some sort of switch or breaker, the sound a loud, jarring snap. A bright spotlight shone down from the darkness of the rafters, illuminating a spot on the earth floor just in front of where the harness hung suspended, menacing. “Mr. Kurt, please assist.” Lino and her husband slid a trestle of smooth lacquered wood across the floor until it stood directly under the light. The trestle reached to approximately waist height, its apex a broad top of dark leather. It resembled, disconcertingly, a saddle, the seat well worn by use. Breanna backed away, almost without thinking, the leash coming up taut in Derek’s hand. All three men looked at her, puzzlement in the eyes of Derek and her husband, steel in the gaze of the cruel Spaniard’s.
