The Getaway

by Hope Anika

  “I survived,” she replied simply, her fingers curling into the hard muscle of his forearms, but suddenly those arms unlocked and slid away, and Tony moved back, leaving only sudden, chilling cold in the space between them, and Isabel’s breath tightened, and panic whipped through her, because he was stepping away, and what she’d feared might happen—

  Rough hands cupped her shoulders and turned her around, and then he was hauling her against him, surrounding her with his strength and heat, his arms holding her so tightly, she could barely breath. A fine tremor shook him, and Isabel wrapped her arms around his waist and held on.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said again, and his forehead pressed hard into her neck. “You are fucking incredible.”

  Isabel froze. “No.”

  “Fuck yes, you are,” he growled and rubbed his chin against the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder joined, his bristle poking her through the t-shirt she wore. An arrow of sensation shot through her, straight to her core, and Isabel shivered. Such an innocuous touch. How could it—

  “Will you show them to me?” he asked, but before she could respond, he lifted her onto the counter, his strength unexpected, and he pushed between her thighs to stand so close, her breasts were suddenly pressed against the hard plane of his chest, his hips cradled in the vee of her thighs. It was a stunningly intimate position, one she hadn’t expected, one she wasn’t prepared for, but he only held her still with one hand splayed around her upper thigh, his fingers digging into her, the other wrapping her braid to tilt her head up, and there was no escaping the glinting hazel gaze that captured hers. “I want to see them.”

  Isabel stared up at him, her heartbeat deafening, her nipples turning to hard, aching points against his chest, a low, steady pulse bursting to life where he pressed against the juncture of her thighs. Her body jerked, suddenly awakened and aware and hungry. In an instant, she grew hot, damp, her focus shearing until there was only him, her, and need. Her hands slid up the plane of his chest, her fingers tracing the thick pad of muscle that shaped him.

  “No,” she whispered, struggling desperately for control, terrified of what he would do when he actually saw her. When he felt that rough, ugly tissue. “Not yet—I’m not—I can’t—”

  “Easy, honey,” he murmured and kissed her, a tender brush of his mouth over hers, swallowing her protest, startling her. “I told you: I can wait.” Another kiss, suckling her upper lip, and Isabel inhaled sharply. “Thank you for telling me.” Sharp teeth nibbled at her. “I know it was hard.”

  Tears massed in her throat, but Isabel swallowed them down. Stupid, wonderful man. If he walked away from her—

  “They’re horrible,” she heard herself say. “Hideous and repellent. You’ll see.” She shook her head. “And then…”

  The grip on her braid tightened. Tony pulled away and stared down at her. “And then what, Isabel?”

  She blinked up at him. “I can’t bear to look at them. How will you?”

  “Ah, baby.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. The hand on her thigh tightened, and his thumb began to stroke her there, sending glints of heat to the place where she was soft and wet and embarrassingly ready. “I fucking dream about you.” The hand that held her braid slid down to capture one of hers, and before she understood his intent, led it down to the hard line of his cock, where he wrapped her fingers firmly around him and held her there. “Feel how hard I am, Isabel. Like fucking steel. I’m starving for you. And if you think your scars are going to run me off, you need to think again, because when I see what you survived, what made you, I just get harder. I want every part of you, sugar. There’s nothing I don’t want to see, touch, taste. There’s nothing I’ll let you hide from me. So you need to understand this: I’ll take everything you want to give. And then I’ll push for more. I’ll always want more. Because I’ll never get enough of you. Not ever.”

  Isabel trembled in his hold, her heart too big in her chest, and her hand squeezed him, hard, and he shuddered against her, a small growl rumbling from him. “Are you sure?”

  “You squeeze me again, and I’m going to show you how sure,” he told her.

  Temptation seared her. Her nipples ached, and she wanted him inside her. That she’d never had sex, never shown anyone the scars that marked her, wasn’t enough deterrent, not with what he’d just said. Not with his open, uninhibited response to her touch. Not with the hunger that beat deep within her, a greedy, selfish thing she wanted to feed. But before she could succumb, he leaned down and took her mouth, his tongue pushing into her mouth to stroke against hers, carnal, aggressive, as hungry as she felt. And in spite of his warning, her hand tightened on him, and he groaned into her mouth. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and rose against him and rubbed her aching breasts against him. He felt so good. And she wondered how he would feel inside her, what it would be like to—

  “Goddamn it,” he swore softly, tearing his mouth from hers, his hand on her thigh tight, his fingers clenching into her. “No. Not in this shithole.” He shuddered again and, as if he couldn’t help himself, kissed her again, a deep, hungry plunder of her mouth that made her lips throb—along with the rest of her.

  “I don’t want to stop,” she protested and went to squeeze him again, but his hand tightened on hers, stilling the movement.

  “Not here, not now,” he insisted, more snarl than words. “No more playing. I don’t have enough control.”

  “You don’t need control,” she argued, and part of her wondered if she’d lost her mind.

  “Yeah, baby, I do.” He leaned down and rubbed his cheek against hers, the hand on her thigh trembling, and for a long moment they just stayed that way, fighting for breath, for calm. “I’m not going to take you like a sailor on leave, and that’s what I’m ready to do. I don’t want that. So please, hear me. When we do this, it will matter, and I want more for you than this place and this moment.”

  “I like this place and this moment,” she whispered, some unknown part of her aching, her body pulsing.

  “No,” he replied with soft finality. “When we happen, there will be no fear. We’re not there yet. But we will be.”

  It wasn’t fair, that he would understand what she was still piecing together for herself. That he would put her first. What had she done to deserve this man? Why had he crossed her path?

  Who did she thank?

  “Alright,” she murmured. When he lifted his head, she pressed a shy, hesitant kiss to his lips. “We’ll do it your way.”

  His hazel eyes gleamed. “I’ll remember you said that.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You should get some sleep, mijo. It is going to be a long night.”

  Alexander looked over at Ben, who was snoring loudly, his chest rattling. Daisy lay curled between them, her paw on Ben’s lap. Outside the ATV, the rain continued to beat down, and lightning flashed, illuminating the darkened forest and turning the tall pines into stark, moody silhouettes. Thunder rumbled around them, making the seat beneath Alexander vibrate.

  Sam was driving; Lucia sat beside him. In the darkened interior of the ATV, her face looked even more battered, the faint lights of the dash highlighting her bruised and swollen eye. It hurt Alexander to look at her, because the beating she’d taken was his fault.

  He’d started this wheel turning. If he’d just lied to her, hidden from her—

  “Mijo,” Lucia said again, and when Alexander looked up, he found her staring at him, half-turned in her seat, her golden eyes glinting in the darkness.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his heart beating hard. Stupid tears. In his throat again, pressing hard against his lungs. He didn’t understand why, or where they came from, or what had abruptly—horribly—made him feel. For so long, there’d been nothing…nothing but the rage. Hate. The need to protect Ben. But nothing like what he felt now: terror and hope and guilt. He hated it. He—

  “For what?” Lucia asked softly, turning more fully to look at him. She reached o
ut and smoothed his hair, and he let her. “You did nothing wrong.”

  Alexander shook his head. “He hurt you because of me.”

  “He hurt me because he enjoyed it,” she replied seriously. “You were just the excuse he used.”

  “It’s my fault,” Alexander insisted. “If we hadn’t left…”

  “What Ivan did is not your fault,” Lucia said. “Just like it is not Sam’s fault. Ivan was an evil man. He wanted to hurt me long before I put you in the Nova.”

  Alexander’s heart jerked, and Sam turned to look at her, but Lucia only shook her head. “I knew he would come. It was inevitable; the price to be paid. You must not blame yourself.”

  But he did, and nothing she could say would make any difference. “How did he find us?”

  This time Lucia looked at Sam, and they exchanged a glance that made Alexander stiffen. “What?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

  Lucia reached out and tried to smooth his hair again, but Alexander pushed her away.

  “No,” he said, panic suddenly lashing at him. “Tell me.”

  “You’re microchipped,” Sam said, his voice hard.

  “Microchipped?” Alexander echoed, confused.

  Lucia opened her mouth, but Sam said, “There is a microchip embedded somewhere in your skin that emits a signal that—when in satellite range—provides your exact location through GPS coordinates.”

  “Embedded?” Horror slapped Alexander like a brutal hand. “You mean…inside me?”

  “In the top layer of your dermis,” Sam said. “It was probably injected when you had a vaccination of some kind. Tiny, no bigger than a grain of rice. But without the right equipment, we have no idea where, so removing it isn’t an option.”

  “He…bugged me?” Alexander said, aware of his voice getting louder, of Ben stirring beside him, but the revulsion and dread filling him had sound, like a million buzzing, angry bees, and he couldn’t breathe and— “He made it so I can never, ever get away from him? He can find me anywhere? He can—”

  Suddenly the ATV jerked to a stop, and the door beside him was being wrenched open, and then Sam was there beside him, his hands wrapping Alexander’s shoulders. “Easy, bud. Just calm down. It’s okay. We’ll fix it. I promise.”

  “Fix it?” Alexander repeated, staring at Sam in horror, his stomach churning, his head spinning, and he felt sick with fear and rage and—

  “I promise,” Sam said again, holding Alexander’s gaze. “I’ll rig something up until we can get it out of both of you.”

  “Both of us?” Alexander tore his gaze from Sam and looked over at Ben, who was awake, watching silently, his eyes big and dark and scared.

  “Both of you,” Sam said. Rain rolled down his cheeks; his hands were warm and strong but gentle, and Alexander was seized by the foreign, irrational urge to hurl himself into Sam’s arms and beg him to never let go.

  “It will be okay,” Lucia whispered. Her hand cupped Alexander’s cheek, and he realized the tears had escaped, hot trails that slid all the way down to drip from his chin. “You must trust us, mijo.”

  He looked at Sam, who squeezed Alexander’s shoulders, and said, “It’s the only way.”

  He wanted to argue, but the rain was cold, drenching Sam and misting into the vehicle, and beside him, Ben was shivering. So Alexander nodded, and Sam let go and shut the door, climbing back into the front. Ben’s hand found his, trembling, too hot, and Alexander scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm around him. His heart beat so fiercely it hurt, and he wanted to throw up, and in that moment he knew what he’d told Sam wasn’t a lie.

  He was going to kill his father. No matter how long it took, no matter what he had to do.

  “Are you okay, Zander?” Ben asked, his voice shaking, and Daisy butted against them with a soft whine.

  “Yeah, Benny, I’m okay,” he lied, swiping at his tears, hugging his brother tight.

  Strong and brave, for Ben. No matter how sick he felt. How angry. Angry. A word that didn’t come close to describing the furious blaze burning inside him.

  Sam watched him in the mirror, and even in the darkness, Alexander knew Sam saw it. But for some reason, that didn’t bother him, because Sam would understand.

  “How will we stop it?” Alexander asked, panic continuing to swell within him. “The satellites are everywhere.”

  And he knew they were headed toward civilization; they’d told him that much when they’d left the cabin. Ben needs a doctor. We have to find one. And Alexander hadn’t argued, because Ben was far more important than he was. He wasn’t about to trade Ben’s life for his own freedom. No. Nothing could happen to Ben.

  Ben was going to make it.

  “I can build something that will jam the signal,” Sam said.

  “You can?” Lucia and Alexander asked simultaneously.

  “It’s not rocket science,” Sam told them with a snort.

  “It might as well be,” Lucia replied seriously. “I would never be able to do such a thing.”

  “Me either,” Alexander said, his anxiety easing a bit. Until he thought about the foreign object his father had implanted in him, which somehow seemed even worse than everything else he’d done, even though it wasn’t, not by a long shot.

  Ivan was an evil man.

  Takes one to know one, Alexander thought. And deep inside, the fury that lived within him simmered and seethed and hungered for blood. He recognized that it was a dangerous thing, that fury, as alive as he was. As real. And that scared him. Because someday it would get free. Someday he would set it free. And there was a line there somewhere, one that, once crossed, could never be returned from. Part of him worried about the fury and that line.

  But part of him didn’t care.

  “You will need supplies to do this?” Lucia asked, watching Sam.

  “Yes. We’ll have to find an electronics store.” Sam turned to look at her. “According to the map, we’ll exit the forest just outside of Blue Ridge. We’ll get a room, and I’ll take Ben to the emergency clinic. Then I’ll get what I need.”

  “No,” Ben said, startling Alexander.

  “Sí, sweet pea,” Lucia said sternly. “You must.”

  “Will I get a shot?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t wanna go.” Ben looked at Sam. “Will you hold my hand?”

  “You bet,” Sam said.

  Ben sighed and laid his head on Alexander’s shoulder. “Okay.”

  Which just told Alexander how bad Ben actually felt. Which scared him.

  “We won’t have a car,” Alexander pointed out, his chest heavy, his stomach continuing to churn.

  Sam looked at him in the mirror. “We will.”

  “How?”

  But before Sam could answer, Lucia turned to Alexander and said, “Do not worry, mijo. Sam always has a plan.”

  Sam smiled and nodded, but it wasn’t enough; Alexander wanted the impossible. Promises. Guarantees. But life didn’t work that way, especially not his life.

  “One step at a time,” Sam said, his gaze steady. “Can you do that?”

  Not that there was any choice. Alexander nodded.

  “Good. Then try and get some sleep.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Quack. Quack.

  Tony did his best to ignore the sound of his phone, because sprawled across his chest was the slight, cinnamon-scented weight of a woman he was quickly coming to consider his own. Isabel.

  Quack. Quack.

  He didn’t want to let her go, didn’t want to open his eyes and look into the face of the chaos that awaited them. No. He wanted another five minutes of Isabel curled trustingly against him in the cheap, sagging bed, the outside world shuttered by ugly plaid curtains, the only sound the wind and rain and deep, rumbling thunder. He wanted to roll her over, steal another kiss and inspect her scars so thoroughly, there were no doubts left in her.

  Quack. Quack.

  But it was not meant to be. Not today.

  Quack�
��

  “Shit.” He swiped a hand at the bedside table and grabbed his phone. Beside him, Isabel stirred and sat up. He checked the number. Peabody. “Malone.”

  “You seen the news?” Bob asked without preamble.

  Tony’s heart lurched. “No. Why?”

  “Take a look, and call me back.”

  Bob hung up, and Isabel blinked at him. They’d slept atop the gaudy, orange-flowered comforter, fully clothed, but somewhere along the line her braid had come loose, and that glinting, white-blond hair shimmered in the dim light, curling nearly to her waist. Tony reached out, captured a strand and ran it through his hand, unable to help himself.

  “Morning,” he murmured.

  Color touched her cheeks. “Who was that?”

  Her cool tone was belied by her sleep-warmed appearance and the crease on her cheek from the button of his shirt. Stubborn woman. But that was okay; he was more than up for the challenge.

  “Peabody,” Tony told her and grabbed the TV remote that also sat on the bedside table. He turned it on—a lumbering, old RCA—and Gordon Ramsey appeared, red-faced and appalled as he stared down at a chunk of over-cooked tuna. Tony flipped through the channels—Jesus Christ, how many were there—until he found NewsDay, where a slim brunette stood before a still shot of Donavon Cruz, her face somber, a red banner running beneath her that read Donavon Cruz Revealed. He hit the volume.

  “…the videos were delivered to over twenty news outlets world-wide, including NewsDay, and were simultaneously released on both You Tube and Me TV.” The brunette was unsmiling, her tone solemn. “They appear to show Las Vegas billionaire Donavon Cruz, CEO of Cruz Technologies, performing criminal sexual acts on several young minors, including his ten-year-old son, Alexander, who was reportedly kidnapped—along with his younger brother, Benjamin—four days ago by the boy’s nanny, Lucia Sanchez. Anonymous sources have confirmed that Ms. Sanchez went to several different city and state agencies—including the Las Vegas Chapter of Child Protective Services—and attempted to report Mr. Cruz’s abuse of his son before fleeing with the children. The FBI are currently searching for Ms. Sanchez and the Cruz children, and the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department has issued several search warrants for the Cruz properties, as well as an arrest warrant for Mr. Cruz, whose current whereabouts are unknown. The disclosure of the videos is being attributed to the hacker known only as Aequitas, whose stylized justice vector symbol accompanied delivery of the images—images our tech department have determined to be unedited. The news has sent Cruz Technologies stock plummeting, and many of Mr. Cruz’s high profile associates, including the current sitting Senators of Nevada and California, have released statements condemning Cruz’s actions and calling for an investigation by the Justice Department. Due to the licentious nature of the videos and their content—and out of respect for the children victimized in them—the NewsDay network will not be airing the videos. Please stay tuned with NewsDay as we continue our coverage of this breaking story.”