“Where the hell are we going?” I demanded.
“Away, safe.” His knuckles were white with strain as he gripped the steering wheel. He mumbled some things I couldn’t hear.
I finally got to ask the question that had been eating at me since this started. “Have you lost your fucking mind? What the hell is wrong with you?” I jumped at him but he braced a hand on my chest, just under my neck, and held me away far enough that none of my punches made contact with him. I tried to shift so I could kick at him but he squeezed just a little tighter.
“Don’t make me do this, Leah,” he warned, and something, something evil in his voice, made me not want to think about what “this” would be. I settled back into my seat. I couldn’t exactly do much damage to him when he was barreling across the desert at near seventy miles per hour. I couldn’t incapacitate him and control the truck at the same time.
We hit a paved road in short time but were halted by traffic. It seemed an SUV had a run in with a van and the resulting car-be-cue blocked the road. The fire that engulfed the cars threw black smoke billowing into the air. Emergency crews hadn’t arrived yet and the drivers from other cars were trying to help extinguish the flames.
Joaquín turned on the radio, maybe hoping for a traffic report but finding a recorded interview with Senator Palmer. He was threatening to file a motion to repeal the VRA.
Joaquín cursed violently and punched the dashboard. The radio exploded into dozens of tiny pieces of plastic at the impact. I could see the muscles in Joaquín’s jaw working as he ground his teeth together. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel and with a loud crack, it split in two. I knew the truck was old but … damn. Joaquín’s head snapped up, his face soaked with sweat, and surprise mixed with the anger already snarling his features.
I took my chance and bolted from the truck, heading into the desert instead of taking a chance that anyone would be able to overpower Joaquín, or slow me down enough for him to catch me.
I dove within the cover of the heavy sagebrush. What lay beyond was a mass of boulders, precariously set atop one another. I dodged between one to the next until I couldn’t hear any followers. I hit a small clearing and really turned up the speed. I needed to get as much distance between Joaquín and me as I possibly could. I ducked into a crevice between two enormous boulders and peered from behind my hiding place, sucking air into my burning lungs as quietly as I could. I had prickers from whatever cacti I’d scrambled through but I would have to worry about that later. I scanned the area but saw nothing except the dust I’d kicked up, dancing in the rays of sunlight. I strained my ears for any sign of being followed yet heard nothing but the wind blowing softly through the brush. I crept along, using each new boulder as cover, stumbling on the rocks, hitting them with enough force that I knew I’d have bruises. I kept moving until my injuries demanded attention. I sat heavily and started plucking prickers from my arms, hands and face. My jeans looked like pin cushions but the heavy denim had prevented most of the cactus needles from piercing my skin. My ankle was swollen and throbbed with pain. There was little I could do about it now.
Once I’d gotten myself as cleaned up as I was going to be, I started looking around for a weapon. This time I wanted to be prepared.
I stuffed some of the smaller, golf-ball sized rocks into my pockets. I could throw them, if nothing else. I kept moving, hoping that civilization wasn’t too far from where I was. I’d been walking for about a half an hour when I heard a stick crack several paces behind me. I whipped my head around toward the sound. Only silence greeted me, which set my nerves on edge even more. I dodged behind another boulder and nearly ran headfirst into an ocotillo cactus. It’s also known as a coachwhip because of its long vine-like branches covered with thorns, which gave me an idea good enough to have me ripping off my pants. Well, the bottoms of them anyway. I grabbed the frayed part of the legs of my jeans and pulled until I had two long strips of material, one from each leg, wincing as the sound seemed to echo off the surrounding boulders. I wrapped the denim around my hands and tied each in a knot as best I could. Next, I stepped down on part of the ocotillo, breaking off a thorn-covered vine. I used a rock to smooth the bottom as much as I could, then gingerly held that end in my denim-clad hands.
I took my newfound weapon and continued making my way through the desert. I kept my eyes on one particular mountain in the distance to keep myself from going in circles. I became increasing weary and realized it was necessary to find some type of cover for the night. Soon the mountains would turn to faded shadows and it would be impossible to gauge the direction I was moving.
I chose a collection of boulders that formed a semi-circle of protection but still gave me a view of the desert, not that I’d be able to see anything except the stars once the sun set completely. I sat on the edge of a smaller rock and wondered how the hell I’d gotten myself into this mess. Okay, so I sat there and cursed Joaquín for his sudden burst of insanity! Once I grew tired of spinning my wheels on that one and still not coming up with a reasonable explanation for my being kidnapped by my ex-fiancé, I started praying I’d get through the night without incident. Hopefully I’d find my way to a road, better yet, a town full of people, showers and a soft bed. I never was much of a camper. I didn’t get the whole sleeping on the ground and peeing in the woods thing. Hell, wasn’t that why we evolved? So we could sleep on cotton sheets and take a piss in privacy? Seemed reasonable to me.
My body seemed to let out a sigh of defeat. I’d been drugged, thrown in a car, and then run across the desert in an effort to escape. I was tired, just done. My eyelids defied my orders to remain open until a noise to my left snapped them open again. It’s amazing how your mind can interpret each tiny movement, sound or rustle as impending danger. I couldn’t afford to cower behind the rocks and pray that my imagination was just getting the better of me. The whole thing reminded me of a bad horror movie where the half-naked blonde walks toward the evil chain-saw wielding freak while the audience yells for her not to go. To turn around, run.
I forced myself to move, crouching behind a larger rock. I could see a shadow, slowly moving toward me.
I drew back my arms, clutching the ocotillo vine firmly in my hands and lashed out with all the strength I had left once the shadow was within striking distance.
I heard a resounding “thwack” then “Son of a bitch!”
I started running again, admittedly not with the same speed I’d had earlier. I stumbled over and over again, scraping and bruising myself as I went.
I didn’t get far.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Someone plowed into my side and sent me to the ground. Large hands clasped my wrists while the heavy weight of a man kept my legs from lashing out at him.
“Shit, Leah,” a voice groaned.
I froze, afraid to believe my own ears.
“Cougar?” I turned and looked up into his smile.
“Admit it,” he waggled his eyebrows, “you missed me didn’t ya?”
I stood and threw my arms around him. “Maybe a little.” I took a step back. “What took you so long?”
“Hardass,” he muttered with a wry grin.
“Where’s Ian?” I started scanning the area behind him, suddenly remembering that Joaquín would still be looking for me.
The smile fell from his face. “He and Falcon are taking care of Joaquín,” he said with a touch of menace.
“My Love?” I heard Ian breathe through my mind.
“Ian.” I felt some tension leave my body.
“You are well?”
“Yes, I’m with Cougar.”
“Stay with him. I must attend to some business now.”
“Don’t kill him, Ian.” I didn’t know why I gave a shit what they did with Joaquín but I’d examine that later. I pulled back to look at Cougar’s face. “Something is wrong with him.”
“I hope that will not be necessary, My Love.”
“Let’s not miss all the fun.�
� Cougar led the way back through the desert.
A shriek echoed nearby and I began running. My lungs were burning by the time I got back to within a few yards of the road. It was there that I saw both Ian and Falcon, legs braced, hands at their sides and ready for a fight. Joaquín stood between them with a feral look in his eyes.
“Ian!” I yelled and the sound echoed off the high canyon walls surrounding the road.
Joaquín turned that look on me and I felt hatred pouring off him in waves.
That was just enough of a distraction to allow Ian to attack. He dove into Joaquín, his head connecting with Joaquín’s stomach, and wrapped his arms around him, knocking him to the ground. Joaquín flipped Ian off him.
Dread flowed through me. Joaquín was no match for Ian. I wanted to throttle him myself, but I didn’t want him dead.
Joaquín backed away, then without warning, jumped at Ian in a move so fast it barely registered. He spun with his hand out and hit Ian so forcefully that blood sprayed from his jaw. Joaquín kicked his foot out backward. Ian grabbed his foot and used Joaquín’s own momentum to knock him to the ground.
Joaquín sprang to his feet and stormed after Ian who turned just before he was hit. Joaquín hit the rock wall behind Ian full force and fell to the ground.
Ian bent down, curled his fingers around Joaquín’s throat and lifted him off the ground. I watched as Joaquín’s face turned red, his mouth open as he struggled to pull some air into his lungs. Ian’s eyes were near black and narrowed, his jaw clenched, face taut. He looked absolutely lethal and for a moment I wasn’t sure he would let Joaquín live. With a slight nod toward Falcon, he loosened his hold enough for Joaquín to take a large gasping breath of air.
Falcon closed the distance between them, placed his hand upon Joaquín and said, “Sleep.”
Joaquín’s eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.
Ian chose that moment to let go of him and he fell to the ground with enough force to make his bones crack.
“Oops!” Cougar snickered sarcastically.
“Thank you, Ian.” I let my head fall, it’s weight suddenly too much for my shoulders to bear.
It was over.
The adrenaline drained from my body in one big rush. I felt myself begin to shake. I was suddenly cold but I didn’t think that was why I was shaking so badly. Something deep in my head recognized the first signs of shock. The shaking, the cold mixed with confusion. I was definitely in shock.
I said nothing while Cougar carried Joaquín’s limp body back to Joaquín’s truck that had been moved off the road and out of sight of passersby. He put him in the seat, casting worried looks from me to Ian.
I was silent while Ian led me to his car and settled me into the soft leather. He tucked a blanket around me, said a few words to Falcon at the side of the car, then climbed in and began to drive.
I stared out the window and watched the scenery speed, lost in my thoughts as my brain tried to make sense of what had happened to me, interrupted only when Ian asked if I was okay? Each time I muttered a weak “fine”.
Ian seemed to sense I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet and let me have my silence. With the loss of adrenaline, my body began to feel each pinprick the cacti had given me, every muscle ache that had lain dormant under the spell of sweet adrenaline. My ankle throbbed in time with my heartbeat, still racing faster than it should have. I was tired. No, more than tired, I was exhausted; yet I was afraid to sleep. Afraid this was just a dream and that I would awaken, tied to that bed, unable to break free. The only sound was the engine as it growled down the road and the soft whir of heat coming from the car vents. Ian must have turned it on for me. I hadn’t noticed.
I shifted in my seat, looking for a comfortable position and finally gave up when I realized that everything hurt and there was no comfortable position to be had. My eyelids felt like great weights pressed upon them, but I refused to close them.
I noted the passing of time only by the position of the moon as is crept across the sky, sitting like a lop-sided grin above us. Ian spoke very little, allowing me the time to come to terms with my capture. Reasons, scenarios and excuses spun around my mind like blind mice moving through a maze, searching for an escape that would never come. Sure, Joaquín and I had an on again, off again relationship, shattering my dreams for a normal life, home and family, even if “family” didn’t mean children. Getting caught in the crossfire of an errant bullet from a rival gang dispute had ensured that children wouldn’t be part of my future, just as being born with the ability to speak to the souls of the dead ensured I would never live a “normal” life. I’d accepted that.
Hadn’t I?
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was near dawn and I found myself in front of Dr. Jeremiah Lucas—you can call me “Luke”. He was Ian’s personal physician and had stitched me up once before after a nasty fight with a couple of demons. Luke looked nothing like you’d expect a doctor to. He was an older man, maybe Wilson’s age with long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck. He had a Van Dyke goatee and the look of a guy you’d cross the street to avoid passing on the sidewalk. Not exactly the appearance that invoked a “protect my life” persona, unless you were fighting monsters, which, of course, I usually was.
“At least there’s no need for stitches this time,” he commented while picking yet another thorn from me. “You look like a human pin cushion,” he tossed another pricker into the stainless steel dish beside him, “a very colorful one at that. The ankle will need to be wrapped, but I suspect you’ll want a shower first.”
I lifted my eyes to meet his for the first time since he’d come to Ian’s to tend my wounds and gave him the barest of smiles. I knew it didn’t reach my eyes but the thought of a shower filled my muddled mind with gratitude.
He put down his tweezers and took my chin in his hand. “Do you want to talk about it, Leah?” he asked gingerly.
I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to spill the details of my kidnapping just yet. I still needed to sort them out in my mind.
I’d trusted Joaquín. I knew he was pissed about the break-up but never in a million years would I think he’d do something like this. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. He was a Chief Detective for God’s sake. A cop! What the hell happened to him?
Luke gave Ian an elastic bandage for my ankle and antibiotic ointment for the multitude of pinpricks along my arms and legs with instructions to apply them after I’d showered. He’d offered me a sedative, which I refused flat. I’d been drugged enough already.
Luke took a blood sample and promised to call me as soon as he’d determined what I’d been drugged with. I mumbled a “thanks” and went upstairs, Ian at my side, to take a shower.
About halfway down the hall toward the room I was staying in, I smelled the wonderful aroma of food and coffee. I didn’t even realize I was hungry and was too tired to try and remember when I’d eaten last.
For once, food overrode the need for coffee and a shower. I shoved a pancake in my mouth, whole, and ate it so fast it had no taste. Once that settled into me I picked up the coffee and chugged half the mug, ignoring the burn. Ian sat with me, his hand on mine. Quiet reassurance. I didn’t know how much information he’d been able to grab out of my mind on the long drive back and I didn’t really care. I’d dropped my mental barriers the moment I sat down in his car. I was just too damn tired to bother with them. I felt Ian prodding around in there, gently, not pushing for too much and not speaking in my mind. He must have found enough in there to realize my need for time to sort it all out, because he didn’t question me.
“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” he asked after refilling my coffee cup.
“No, I’m too tired. Just a shower.” I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “The sun will be up soon. You’ll need to sleep.”
He nodded. No matter how much either of us wanted to stay awake, dawn would take Ian. As a vampire, he had no choice.
I got up and went
into the bathroom, stripped down and turned the shower on as hot as I could stand it. The water flowed over me, cascading down my body in luxurious comfort.
I began to shake again as the absurdity of it all settled into me. I sank down to the floor of the shower and allowed myself a good cry. I bit the side of my hand in a useless attempt to hide the sound of the sobs that wracked my body. I felt the cool breeze of the shower door opening.
“My Love?” Ian’s voice was etched with worry.
“I’m fine,” I gasped weakly.
“Would you prefer to be alone?” His was expressionless as he stood with his hand braced on the shower door wearing nothing more than a black robe tied loosely at his waist.
I shook my head and reached for him.
He removed the robe and a moment later, stepped in behind me and helped me to my feet. He put shampoo in his hands and gently kneaded lather into my hair, massaging my scalp as he went. He tilted my head back into the water and rinsed the suds. Then he grabbed the body wash and smoothed it over my shoulders and my back. I heard a whimper and realized it had come from me. Ian knelt behind me, washing my legs gently, easing the sting of cacti stickers. He stood, placed his hands at my waist and turned me so I was facing him. I reached up and took his mouth with mine in a tentative kiss, then let my arms trail around to his slick back.
He lathered my chest, stopping to tease each nipple and cup my breasts. My hands wandered to him, using the suds from my own body to smooth across him. When we were both covered in white foam, we stepped under the water as our lips met. I breathed in deep; the scent of lavender soap and Ian mingled to chase everything from my mind but him. I wanted that, needed the escape from thoughts I couldn’t quite put into logical order.
I devoured Ian. I needed his taste, his comfort, and the promise of safety. I needed to feel protected. For once in my damn life I wanted someone else to take the reins, even if just for a little while.
The Order of Chaos Page 18