I Dream of Spiders

by Keating, Elle

  She is no longer with me. She is back there, in one of her visions. I give her a few seconds to see if she says anything else. But then she shakes her head violently and looks right at me. “Griffin?”

  “Clare, I’m here. What did you see?”

  She looks at the computer screen. She is pale, her fingers are shaking. “I saw a computer screen, one much larger than this one. It displayed what look like rooms…” She shakes her head. “No, that’s not right.” She swallows hard and looks me in the eye. “Cells. Cells with bars. And there were six of them.”

  Cells? What the fuck? Did she break out of jail? Prison?

  Chapter Nine

  ?

  “Boss shouldn’t have sold my playmate and sent her away so soon. The next shipment of girls isn’t arriving until next week.” I heard him pacing behind me. “You’re his special girl…so innocent.” A growl escaped him. “But don’t worry. We can still have fun together.”

  It may have only been a vision, a disgusting memory, but I could somehow feel the man’s breath on the back of my neck. I was standing in some shitty room, an unmade bed in the corner, beer cans scattered throughout when the monster behind me uttered those words. My eyes darted back and forth, taking in my surroundings and then landed on an enormous monitor. Six cells appeared on the computer screen. All of which were empty. I focused on one cell in particular. It was familiar to me. It was mine.

  “The cells were empty…because they had been sold.”

  “What? Who? Who was sold, Clare?” Griffin’s eyes plead with me to answer.

  “The women.”

  • • •

  Griffin

  I want to bombard her with questions. Demand that she sift through that muddled brain of hers and find the answers. Who are these traffickers? Where was she taken and held against her will? How did she get away? Are they looking for her? Could they track her here? My desire to know more, to want to find those bastards who stole and sold women and tear them apart with my bare hands must be written all over my face because she takes my hand and says, “I don’t know anything else. I didn’t see his face. I don’t know how I escaped or why I was taken.” She releases my hand and bows her head. “And I can’t say for certain that he didn’t…”

  I see red. The thought of anyone laying a finger on her, violating her, making her feel ashamed and dirty, makes me want to take to the woods and hunt down the fuckers who could do such a heinous thing. But that’s not what Clare needs right now. In the calmest voice I can muster I lift her chin with my fingers and say, “The night I found you, the night I took you to the hospital and ran those tests…Trent and I didn’t find any evidence of trauma, nothing that would suggest you were…harmed in that way.”

  She stands, forcing my hand away from her delicate skin. “He said I was his boss’s special girl…that I was…” She looks away and I see her pink cheeks darken.

  “That you were what?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

  She is keeping something from me. What is it? I won’t press her right now, but I know there is something in that vision she isn’t sharing. I focus on what she did disclose. And that is that she believes she belongs to some fucking boss.

  My blood boils at the thought.

  I want to tell her that she belongs to me, that she is my girl…mine. That’s what the caveman in me wants to declare. I rise to my feet and face her. “You belong to no one. Do you hear me? No one controls you. You escaped that place, those men. How? Because you’re strong and stubborn as hell.”

  She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. A small smile tugs at her lips. I want to kiss her, tell her that everything is going to be okay. I want to take back my words and tell her she does belong to someone. Me. Those words are on the tip of my tongue when I see her smile fade and worry wash over her beautiful face.

  “They could be looking for me, Griffin.” Her eyes widen. “I’m putting you in danger.” She takes two steps back and wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “They can’t find me here. I need to leave. It’s not safe. For you or me.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I say. No. Fucking. Way.

  “It’s not your decision. It’s mine.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I became a part of this the moment I snuck you into that hospital, asked Trent to examine you and to hold off on calling the authorities.”

  “Why are you doing all these things for me? Why help me? You don’t know me.”

  Because I’m a nice guy. I’m a medical professional, therefore it’s in my nature to help people. Because my parents raised me to help people in need. All good reasons. All true. But none apply in this case. I want to help her because I want…her. And I haven’t wanted anyone in a long time.

  But she’s right. I don’t know her. She may have a family, children, a husband. Loved ones she may suddenly remember and long to be with if the right memory is triggered. For my heart’s sake, it is safer to lie. “Because…you’re my responsibility,” I say, avoiding her gaze.

  “Because you almost hit me with your truck?”

  I summon all my strength and pray that she can’t see through my lie. “Yes.”

  She flinches at that lone word and I think I see hurt in her eyes. But then she stands up straight and raises her chin. “I understand now.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. She simply turns on her heel and disappears into the bedroom.

  I stand there in my living room feeling like a dick. I take two steps toward the bedroom and stop. I rake my fingers through my hair and battle with myself. Should I come clean, take a risk or do what is necessary to protect myself and her?

  “Shit,” I mumble under my breath. I take the cowardly way out and say to the open bedroom door, “I’m going to go chop wood. We’ll need it if the heater decides to quit in the middle of the storm that’s supposed to hit.”

  I am halfway to the front door when I hear her shout, “Fine, I’ll start dinner.” Her tone holds no emotion, no sass, nothing. She sounds defeated. I would rather her tell me to go screw myself.

  I go outside. The second I’m out of earshot from Clare, I dial Trent. I need to tell him about Clare’s vision, the one that suggests she is a victim of human trafficking. I may have seen some gruesome things in my life, but I can’t wrap my head around this, that this could happen here in Pennsylvania. My call ends up going to voicemail. I don’t have Trent’s work schedule memorized but he would have answered if he could. He’ll call back when he gets a chance.

  Feeling useless, I grab my ax and start chopping some wood. But no matter how many logs I stack I can’t stop thinking about Clare, how strong she was when she learned that she may have been kidnapped. Anyone else would have probably dropped to the ground, curled into the fetal position and shut down. But not Clare. After the initial shock passed, which was less than a minute, she told me she wanted to leave…to protect me.

  I don’t need protection. She does, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that she is safe. My thoughts are immediately hijacked with images of her being taken against her will, to be used for one thing and one thing only. I curse out loud and slam my ax into the stump.

  I am all set to seethe and pace for a while longer when I hear the faint sound of a boat’s motor. Chief Sullivan must be on his way back from checking on the elderly woman up north. I look over and see his boat grow smaller and smaller and I breathe a sigh of relief, which doesn’t make any sense. A policeman’s presence shouldn’t make me want to run into the house right now and hide Clare from the world.

  I need to get my head on straight. For my sake, for Clare’s. But images of her being abducted and abused come rushing in and I am tempted to retrieve the ax again and start chopping something. I somehow stop myself and peek in on her through the window. She is standing on her tiptoes and reaching for some plates in the cabinet above the dishwasher. My eyes go right to her tight ass. And then drift to her shapely hips. Hips that I want to gr
ip from behind and…

  Obsessing over a woman who doesn’t belong to me, who has just been through hell, is still going through hell because she is suffering from amnesia, is not at all healthy. I let a few more expletives fly and then throw my shirt back on before entering the cabin.

  “Are you hungry?” she asks, not looking at me.

  “You cooked the fish?”

  “The internet helped me. I hope it turned out alright.” Clare goes to the fridge and returns with a salad in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other.

  I set my phone on the counter, wash my hands and take a seat at the table. I am piling salad onto my plate when she comes to the table with my phone in her hand. “You received a text,” she says, handing me the phone.

  My head is so fucked up that I didn’t even hear a text coming through. I read the text and smile. Corinne isn’t letting up. She’s resorted to begging. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to take some time off from a job I haven’t even started yet, but I have to try. I set my phone down on the table. I look up and see Clare staring at me, her face pinched and looking pissed off. I don’t know why she looks fit to kill, but I decide to not address it. Things are already awkward between us. I scoop a few filets onto my plate and dig right in. The fish melts in my mouth.

  “This tastes great. Thank you,” I say between bites. Her pissed off gaze dissolves, and she flashes me a smile that goes straight to my groin. I almost choke on my filet. It’s while I am sipping the water she has poured me that I decide with absolute certainty that I must stay away from her. Because if I took her, if I claimed her like I want to and find out later when she regains her memory that she belongs to someone else, it would destroy me and shatter my already fragile heart into a million pieces.

  Chapter Ten

  ?

  The meal I prepared was actually tasty, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Griffin remained silent throughout dinner and then after as he helped me clean up. He disappeared into the bathroom shortly after. I escape to my room the second I hear the shower turn on. All I want to do is stew over the text Griffin received during dinner. The one I had no business reading. Apparently, Corinne, the same woman who called him while we were fishing off the dock, misses him and wants him to come visit her. There’s no doubt that he is with her. I saw him smile, the warmth in his eyes, as he read her text.

  Instead of letting my pity party rage out of control, I grab my phone and surf missing persons reports, but all I encounter are more dead ends. I place my phone on the nightstand and look down at my body. I know it belongs to me, but it still amazes me that I can’t remember. Like how I acquired the small scar on my knee. I stare at the bandage on my thigh and notice that it is peeling off. I go the bathroom for a fresh one and find the first aid kit beneath the sink. I sift through the different size bandages and then my hand stills. Tucked beneath a tube of Neosporin is a scalpel. My vision grows cloudy and the bathroom fades away…

  “Your pussy and ass may be off limits, but the boss didn’t say anything about that smart little mouth of yours.” His finger trailed from my cheek to my lower lip. I wanted to bite his finger clean off. He grabbed my arm and forced me into the hallway. I withdrew the scalpel from the waist band of my yoga pants and held it at my side. “We’re all alone now. So tonight will be our little secret, princess.” As he dragged me down the hall, I glanced to where we were connected. How I prayed that spider tattoo of his would come to life and bite its owner. He hustled me past my cell and I entered what looked like some frat boy’s dorm room with an unmade bed in the corner, open cans of beer scattered throughout the cramped space, a television mounted on the wall, and a computer set up on a desk. He took me by the shoulders and pushed me farther into the room.

  “Boss shouldn’t have sold my playmate and sent her away so soon. The next shipment of girls isn’t arriving until next week.” I heard him pacing behind me. “You’re his special girl…so innocent.” A growl escaped him. “But don’t worry. We can still have fun together.”

  My eyes darted back and forth, taking in my surroundings and then they landed on the enormous computer monitor. Six cells appeared on the screen. All of which were empty. I saw my cell and the one that belonged to that woman. I could still hear her screams, those sounds of despair.

  I used that memory, the image of that woman being raped and beaten as my fuel. I gripped the scalpel, turned, and slammed it into his neck. His hand went right to his throat and he gasped. I watched him yank out the knife, but all that did was allow the blood to spurt out like a fountain. Spider Tattoo’s eyes widened as he attempted to stop the flow. I tried to run but he grabbed me with his free hand and held me against him. Blood rained down, into my hair, my shirt, everywhere. A disgusting gurgle escaped him and I took that opportunity to knee him in the groin. The bastard released me, folded in half and fell to the floor. I quickly looked around the room. I went to the desk, tossing papers about, pulling out drawers, searching for a weapon, for a phone, keys to a vehicle. But there was nothing.

  Groaning and gasping from five feet away prompted me to give up the search. I kicked the monster in the head before I bolted out of the room. I found a set of stairs just down the hallway and took them without hesitation. When I reached the top, I encountered three deadbolts. I unlocked each one and forced the door open. It was dark but I knew I was inside some room, as my feet sank into the carpeted floor. Moonlight poured into the room through a window to my right, allowing me to see the second door. I went to it but it was locked. I found a wooden chair and flung it through the window. I crawled out, cutting myself on a piece of broken glass in the process.

  “Fuck!”

  • • •

  Griffin

  “Clare?”

  Her back is to me, her head bowed as she stands in my bathroom. I don’t know what made me come looking for her, but somehow I knew she was in trouble. “Clare?” I ask again. I step closer and she turns around wielding a scalpel in front of her. Her eyes look crazed, like she isn’t really here, but in some place in her head, some other reality. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me, with fear in her eyes. “It’s me, Clare. Griffin. Remember? I’m not going to hurt you. And you’re not going to hurt me.” I move closer. When I am within an arm’s length away, I act swiftly and secure her wrists in my hands, making her grip loosen around the knife. “Clare, you’re safe and you’re with me in my cabin. You just made me dinner a few hours ago and I chopped enough wood to last us the entire winter.” Her breathing is erratic and her eyes are searching mine when her hold on the scalpel gives out. I grab the scalpel and place it on the vanity.

  “Griffin?” she asks. I bring her hands to my face. Her eyes well with tears and I can tell she is coming back to me. “I…I did it.” Her face breaks and she starts to cry. I can’t take it anymore and I bring her to my chest and hold her. “I killed a man. I stabbed him, watched him bleed and struggle and I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse for doing it.” Her voice catches and I lift her into my arms and carry her into my bedroom. I place her in bed and slide in beside her. With her back pressed up against my bare chest, I hold her as she sobs. “I stabbed him with a scalpel and as he crumpled to the floor, while he was bleeding out, I fled.”

  “What did he look like?” I ask.

  “I…I don’t know why, but I couldn’t see his face. It was blurry, though everything else was clear.”

  She is protecting herself. It is her mind’s way of telling her that she isn’t ready to discover her kidnapper’s identity. I read about this. How victims of amnesia often withhold things from themselves as a defense mechanism. “You’re not ready to remember,” I say.

  “But I have to…there could be others.” She pauses. “There are others.”

  “Go to sleep.” I pull her closer and breathe in her coconut scented hair. For once my cock doesn’t leap to attention, most likely because I am so fucking worried about her.

  Silence ensues. After what feels like hours, her body starts to rela
x and I think she is drifting off to sleep when she asks, “Aren’t you afraid that I’m going to try to hurt you, like I did to that man?”

  Considering my past, I should be concerned that this woman has just realized that she has killed a man. But I’m not. “No.”

  “But how? I mean…why do you trust me?”

  “For the same reason you don’t lock yourself in your room when you go to sleep.”

  More silence.

  She takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Griffin, the guy with the spider tattoo, the guy who said I belonged to his boss…he said I was innocent.”

  I swallow hard. I know where this conversation is headed, or maybe I don’t. I am just about to release her and get the hell out of the room when she asks, “Is that why they took me? Because they think I’m innocent? That I haven’t…” It is neither the time nor place for my cock to stir, but it has a mind of its own. I shift uncomfortably behind her. Only a fucking asshole would get hard at a time like this. Clare is baring her soul right now, explaining how her captor wanted to defile her gorgeous body, and I am fighting back an erection. “Did they take me because they thought I was a virgin?”

  All the blood in my body rushes to my dick. She needs to stop talking, asking questions that I don’t know the answers to…questions that are getting me aroused as fuck. I am just about to tell her that she needs her rest when she rolls over and faces me. Her hand rests on my chest, a few inches from my scar, causing Miranda to flash before my eyes. But the image quickly vanishes as Clare’s eyes meet mine. “I want to try something, to see if it triggers a memory, to see if...” Her gaze drifts to my mouth. “May I kiss you?” she asks.

  I can’t formulate a response, and apparently she doesn’t need or want one. Slowly, she leans in and feathers her lips against mine. She tastes so sweet, so tempting. Her lips once again brush mine, but this time her tongue trails behind and I groan at the sensation. She deepens the kiss and I feel her tongue enter my mouth. What began as something chaste and G-rated morphs and I forget why I shouldn’t kiss her back, why trusting a woman again isn’t wise, and that at any moment she may remember that she has a boyfriend or husband who she loves. I flip her to her back and lie on top of her, distributing my weight so she won’t be crushed. Her hands grip my ass, squeezing me, forcing me against her. I could come like this, dry humping and kissing her as she sucks my tongue. She feels so good, too good. Only two flimsy pieces of cotton separate us. She whimpers into my mouth as I grind my dick into her. Her hand drifts from my ass cheek to the front of my lounge pants. She cups my balls and I freeze. Realizing what I have done, I spring out of bed. “I’m…I’m sorry,” I say, raking my fingers through my hair.