by Lora Ann
He held her gaze wondering why the look of astonishment. Lexi entered the room and called out, “That’s it for tonight.”
He fought not to grin at how nonchalant that was, as if they’d been at rehearsal for a play and the director had called a wrap. Holy hell. Maybe role playing wasn’t all that different after all. His mind traveled to trying some of this with Shelby. He was brought back from his musings when a hand ran dangerously close to his erection.
“Down boy,” Lexi said with a sultry tone. “Otherwise, I may want to take care of that for you.”
He swallowed, searching for Keeley. “I belong to my mistress only.” He motioned toward her across the room.
Keeley finished up with a few pointers before turning at the sound of the conversation, locking eyes with Mitch. “That’s right. And I don’t share.”
“Pity. He’d be a lot of fun in a threesome.”
Oh, hell no! His brow furrowing in desperation. “I’m a one-woman kind of man. Kinky with only her.”
Keeley stepped in beside him and put a claiming hold on his arm. “No worries. Everything is by consent only.” She leveled her gaze on Lexi. “Doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy watching.”
What the fuck! Then he realized she just opened them up to an invitation. Damn she was good. “Never had an objection to that,” he confirmed.
“Good to know.” Lexi smiled as they left and walked down the hall. “We’ll see you tomorrow night.” It was more of an order than a request.
Keeley shook hands with her. “Will be our pleasure.”
In the car, Mitch spoke first, “Are we getting anywhere?”
“I think so. They need to see how far we’re willing to go. With the others working elsewhere, our best angle is to stay here and hope someone talks.”
“Right.” He nodded, glancing her way at a red light. “Any leads regarding Chase is our agenda.”
“Yes. Alex and Sofie are working with the slaves who are being used against their will.” Her eyes closed as the ghost from her past began to speak in her ear.
“You loved what I gave you, Keeley.”
“Nooooo.” Again she repeated with more force, “NO!”
“Kee, what’s wrong? I didn’t say anything to warrant that.”
She shook her head to clear it. “Sorry. My past decided to revisit me.” Her gaze now far off.
“Hey,” he reached over and rubbed her forearm, “we all have triggers. Even people who have never gone through a traumatic experience has them. Don’t be ashamed of them.”
“And if I told you this was a demon haunting me?”
“I’d say tell him to fuck off.”
She laughed. “You don’t think I’m crazy.”
“Hell no, girl. We all have them. The more shit you’ve lived through, the more they come out to play.”
Her head leaned back as she glanced his way. “Shelby is lucky to have you.”
Both hands on the wheel, he replied, “Tar’s the lucky one.”
“Mitch?”
“Yeah.”
“Please let me see him,” she begged.
Don’t look at her Rolston! Of course he did. Big mistake! “Stop that.”
“What?” she pleaded.
“That whole little girl thing you’ve got going on,” he sighed. “You know it’ll put him and us in danger. I want to, Keeley. But I just can’t. Someone needs to be the voice of reason here.”
She huffed, “Meaning I’m not logical.”
“No,” his exasperation coming through, “it means right now you’re thinking with your heart.”
“I want him back,” she whispered, “I want a chance at happily-ever-after.” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know you do. So trust me on this. Wait a little longer, okay?”
Her voice was barely audible, “I hope he knows how much I love him.”
“He does, Keeley. Somewhere in there…he knows.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Keeley,” he cried out.
Her trained eye told her he had an infection. But she needed to verify her suspicions. She took his temperature. Sometimes protocol was a real bitch. The obvious was staring her right in the face. Beads of sweat on his brow. Bandages were wet. Not good for the stitches he had in three places on his head. His agitation grew and he inadvertently knocked the thermometer out of her hand. Didn’t matter. The computer already read his temperature. “Shit!” Christy immediately placed the call for a doctor.
She worried her lip, praying he didn’t… “Damnit, Tar!” The seizure took over his body. She moved as much as she could, fast, hoping he didn’t catch anything. Too late. Blood went spraying as his IV was yanked out.
“What the hell?!” the doctor yelled as he raced in to assist her. “Christy, press the button for help.”
She noticed Tar choking. “He can’t breathe!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he roared as Tar’s hands fisted his white lapels. “You listen to me, soldier, cooperate here and let me do my job.”
Unsure if it was the doctor’s words getting through or some sort of divine intervention, but Tar released him enough that he could pull free. She felt the presence and searched frantically. Was the angel of death in the room?
His hand gently laid on her shoulder. “No,” he whispered.
Her gaze rose to Tar’s face. A battle-wise expression was knitted around his eyes. “Fight,” she spoke out loud.
“Who the hell are you talking to?” the doctor inquired while desperately searching for reinjuries on Tar’s head.
The room became a bustle of commotion. Antibiotics were ordered. Cleanup was started as Christy gasped, “Jesus.”
“No. I’m not,” the voice said in a stern tone.
Every eye was on her, speculation in several. They’d made it known she was getting too attached to her patient. Not the first time she’d done it, either. And yes, it came with a cost. A high price to pay. She had a knack for doing it with those who ended up passing away, earning her the nickname, Nurse Death. Though they never said it to her face, like she wouldn’t know if they never told her. Puh-leeze. Word traveled faster in a hospital than it did on the internet. Some just found her peculiar and their name for her was Nurse Out-of-her-Mind. She studied the manlike being across from her. “He’ll be okay?”
The doctor answered, “Not sure. I did find the source of the infection.”
She leaned in, ignoring the sniping comments floating around the room. Fuck them. “The original wound looks nasty.”
“Yes,” he agreed and turned. “Why the hell are you all standing around? Go get me—”
Christy was already handing the necessary items to pull the stitches and clean out the ugly laceration. Red and ooze met her eyes as he worked diligently on Tar’s head. The antibiotic arrived, and she went to administer it. In all the fray no one had bothered to put in another IV. “Brilliant group we work with,” she mumbled. Cleaning his arm and searching for another spot to put the needle. Instead of tapping in the same area at the bend of his arm, she went with the side of his wrist. A more painful area, if he were awake to tell her so, but one she could tap rather easily. She personally hated the back of the hand and avoided it until her choices were more limited.
“I need your help,” the doctor rumbled.
She still needed to put the tape over the point of entry but knew when a doctor was distressed, especially this one. “What is that?” she half-gasped, half-choked out.
“Someone put something in here,” he grit out while concentrating.
Tar’s head began to thrash from side to side. Christy secured him, careful of the sutures on his forehead. She watched, horror struck, as the doctor held up what was lodged inside his wound. “What in the world is that?” Her mouth hanging open like a gaping fish.
“Looks like,” he studied it closer, “a piece of…”
“Metal?”
“Wire stint,” he hissed. “This is no accident. And he’ll be damn lucky not to have MRSA.
”
“I’ll order the test,” she whispered. God, how did this happen?
A faint noise pulled her head around to see the manlike being standing over Tar. Not in a healing fashion, she realized, but as a shield. What was he protecting him from? Her eyes darted all over the room that had gone icy cold. Another presence was there and it carried a smell. Her nose wrinkled up at the stench.
The doctor fought his gag reflex as he held his head back. “Fuck, this infection reeks of rotten eggs!”
She dropped everything in her hands, barely able to speak what her mind was giving her. “Sulfur. Evil.”
His gaze locked on hers. “Christy, call the police.”
*****
She sat tied to the chair, nude. His steps purposeful and deliberate as he walked around her. She was aroused, not scared. Which brought him to the conclusion, what he’d used to punish Carla was not going to work on Lisa. The wheels turned with what he could do to her. The obvious dripping between her legs: She had a rape fantasy. Under other circumstances, he could use that. But not this. This took calculation. Manipulation. She must know he was in charge. Not her. Never her.
He snapped his fingers as his head whipped toward her, stopping dead center. “I’m not going to lay one finger on your nasty little cunt begging for it. What I am going to do…” pausing for dramatic effect “…is see if you stay wet when it’s your kid being harmed.”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!” she screamed.
“Ah, I called it. He’s your weakness. Tell you what I will do,” crouching down between her legs and studying how her cunt drew back, “I’ll let you choose what’s done to him.”
“Please, no,” she cried, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Now that was an offer he might consider, after. “You need to learn respect. He’ll be your whipping boy.”
“God, Clark, you can’t really mean it. He’s only five!”
“Up to you as to how deep those scars go, mentally. Physically. And emotionally,” he drew out each word.
He tapped her most sensitive spot. “You’re no longer horny. Hmm…wonder if your little fantasy would turn into a nightmare now.” He stood and walked out without another word.
The threat hung in the room like a foul odor, slinking up her nostrils and down her throat, until she vomited profusely. She came to her senses when she heard him roar in the next room. He’d underestimated the power of the all mighty vajayjay. But she knew he wouldn’t stop until he found a minion to do his dirty dealings, or worse, he did them himself. Her only hope was that the nurse back at the hospital had Cole in a drug stupor. Surely that was easier to recover from than abuse.
*****
Jim backed away from the phone like it could bite him at any moment. He stepped into the child’s room making sure he was resting comfortably. Grateful he didn’t have a reaction to it. It could cause hallucinations and nightmares. He needed an ally, pronto. A cursory walk around the sleeping boy gave him a face he’d seen Mrs. McNeil with. The surgeon had been spotted with her leaving another storage closet in the hospital. Her preferred area to have relations. He couldn’t help but wonder what that doctor was doing for her, but he was soon to find out. “Hang in there, little man, I’m going to make sure no one harms you. Despite my bad behavior, I don’t want anything awful to happen to you.” He patted Cole’s hand and it wasn’t lost on him that the child flinched. Poor kid was afraid of the only person who could protect him. “I know, kid, I’ve been a very mean nurse to you. But I promise I’ll find help.”
He’d become a stalker as he leaned against the wall where Dr. Get-Off-Between-Surgeries was currently banging his latest conquest. Would he even remember the rich lady with the young kid? But Jim didn’t know who else to turn to. Hopefully she’d done more than give this doctor a blow job. Part of him was jealous about that, another, wanted to hate her for whoring herself out. And why he cared what the rich lady did was beyond him. He shook his head, erasing the delusions of having her all to himself. The game changed when he received that phone call. An ominous voice demanded his compliance in torturing a child. Giving him meds to talk, yeah, unscrupulous, something he would lose his job over. Maybe he was a little rough in how he handled the kid, but in his job one dealt with some rather combative children. Regret filled him. The door swung open as a smiling surgeon zipped up his pants. That told Jim the good doctor was on rounds. “Excuse me,” he called out, “we need to talk.”
The dashing doctor turned and Jim read his name off his badge. “Dr. Barnes, I do believe you are in violation of the hospital staff’s conduct code.”
His hands came up with a, “Whoa, who the hell are you?”
“I’m a nurse in the psych wing. We seem to share a common interest.”
“Do tell.” The arrogance dripping from his tone.
“Let’s talk somewhere a little more private,” Jim suggested as they walked outside.
“Look, I need to get back to my rounds. Make this quick.”
“I’ll get right to the point. Lisa McNeil.”
“Who?” Dr. Barnes brows raised.
“Good God, man. How many women do you fuck in a week?” Jim’s exasperation coming through loud and clear.
“My personal life is none of your damn business.”
“I beg to differ,” Jim assured. “When you stuck your dick into that pretty rich lady, it most definitely made it my business.”
“She’s yours?”
“Well, let’s just say my dick knows her too.”
“Ahhhh, it was only once. I think. Describe her.” His puzzled gaze met Jim’s.
He shook his head. “Man, that thing of yours is going to fall off if you keep doing that.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am smart enough to wear a condom.” He scratched his head. “Wealthy you said. Really good looking.” His hands making an hourglass shape in the air. “Hips made for going hard and deep.”
Desire filled him, but he brought it under control. “Yes. Long, curly brown hair, blue eyes, pouty lips.” Oh fuck, that mouth!
“Yeah, yeah, now I remember. You’re fucking her?”
“Not exactly.” He didn’t wish to dwell on the fact this manwhore knew her in a way she wouldn’t permit him. Wonder what Dr. Barnes had that he didn’t?
“Time’s a ticking, dude. Spit it out.”
“Right. Did you know she has a child?”
He stood there studying the sky for a moment. Jim was convinced he was clueless, but then Dr. Barnes surprised him. “Cute little guy with black hair.”
Jim barely contained his excitement. The description telling him the guy liked kids. “Yes. He’s my patient. And he’s in trouble.”
“What?”
Jim proceeded to give the doctor a run down without implicating his role in helping Lisa drug her son. “So you see, they’re both in some kind of nasty predicament.”
Dr. Barnes’ hand ran through his hair. “Shit!” He sighed. “Okay, you’ve got my help.”
“I’m sure Lisa will greatly appreciate it.”
“She was a fuck, man. But kids, yeah, I’m not cool with anyone harming them. Let me put in a request to move the boy. From there we’ll figure this out. I will see justice served to any and all who have hurt that child in any way,” the doctor warned.
Jim swallowed back his guilt. “I hear you.” He watched the doctor go back inside, wondering if this was such a bright idea after all. Yet he couldn’t see another option. He only wanted Cole safe, though he knew lying to himself was useless, bedding Lisa actually took precedence. Helping her kid should give him the leverage he needed to make that a reality. And here he thought Dr. Barnes was only concerned about his dick. Seemed he suffered from the same condition.
Chapter Twenty
A tray of mimosas passed by and Alex grabbed them a glass. “I’m surprised it’s a brunch,” whispering low enough only his wife could hear.
“Makes it less conspicuous,” she said before taking a sip of the delic
ious drink.
“Yes, but it’s a bit disconcerting to see so many recognizable faces.”
She tugged his arm. “Stop studying them. You’ll give us away.”
“But I need these names and faces locked into my memory for when I bring down the hammer of justice,” he growled right in her ear.
Her arm wrapped tightly around him for a show of comradery. She needed him to know she wouldn’t leave his side. Partners in every sense of the word. “You and I are all in.”
“I know, Kjære,” he groaned. “But what kind of husband puts his wife in such danger?”
“No turning back. No doubts. Besides, you couldn’t have kept me away. Our family’s lives are on the line.”
“God, I love you.” The confession from the bottom of his soul.
“And I love you, too. Now, let’s make this look good. Pep up,” patting his muscular ass, “we have company in three…two…”
“So glad you could make it,” Zak announced in a boisterous pitch, drawing the attention he intended.
Alex stuck out his hand. “Thank you again for inviting us.”
“Always glad to be in the company of those who appreciate fine specimens.”
Sofie cringed inwardly. The word rubbing her fifty ways and none of them good. These were human beings, not lab rats. “A person should be admired for all their traits,” she pointed out.
“Yes, I agree,” Lexi affirmed, joining the conversation. “They are true works of art.
She fought not to correct her in objectifying these people. A soft chime rang, before her tongue got the best of her, and in came a sight that would haunt Sofie for a lifetime. Robed and chained together, like a chain gang in a prison yard doing manual labor against their will, they shuffled across a brightly lit stage. Twenty, scared young people. She didn’t think any of them were past the age of twenty-two. Most were females, but there were a few males as well. She gave a sidelong glance at Alex, seeing the horror there that matched hers, before she inquired, “Are they all at least eighteen?”