Jim hooked the chart on the end of the bed, took off his reading glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Quite frankly, they look like rope burns to me. Her wrists aren’t as bad as her neck, though. She’s got significant bruising and swelling, and chances are she’ll have some difficulty speaking once she fully wakes up.”
“Which will be?”
The doctor shrugged. “That’s hard to say. There are too many factors that can come into play with injuries like this.”
Perfect. A person either possessed the blessed trait of patience or they didn’t, and Tye had always prided himself on his. But this, Laine lying here hurt and unconscious, tested every bit of that patience.
“And just so you know,” Jim went on, “there’s no sign of her being sexually assaulted. She was fully clothed when the paramedics brought her in. Keep in mind, though, we haven’t been able to confirm that, not with her going in and out of consciousness the way she’s been.”
Damn if Jim hadn’t read his mind. But somehow knowing she likely hadn’t been violated in that way didn’t go very far in helping Tye feel all that much better about the situation.
He blew out a quiet “Yeah, thanks,” and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “All right,” he said a little louder, composing himself a bit more. “I’ll be right outside the room talking with Tom. I want to know the instant anything changes.”
“You got it, Tye.” Jim tucked his reading glasses in the front pocket of his lab coat before reaching out to squeeze Tye’s shoulder. “Try not to worry too much. You know she’s become one of our own. We’ll take good care of her.”
All Tye could do was nod as he and Jim headed out of the exam room together. A raw edginess ignited at the base of his spine when Jim rattled off a list of instructions to Laine’s nurse. Before Tye could quash it, the restlessness had burned a trail up his back to center between his shoulder blades. He hated the feeling, hated how the itch crept down into his arms to pool in his palms. He wiped away the sweat gathering there, watching in silence through the doorway as the nurse went in to check the IV bag, then adjusted the tubes carrying the oxygen, along with the mask covering her nose before leaving Laine alone and heading back to the nurse’s station.
Whoever did this to her was going to pay, and pay big. Tye would make damn sure of that. First things first, though—he had to find the fucker.
He tore his gaze away from Laine and spun on his deputy. In a lame attempt to extinguish the fire making a mad dash to his nerve endings, he folded his arms over his chest and once again asked the question that had eaten away at him for the last half-hour.
“What the hell happened?”
Tom cleared his throat. “A call came in to HQ from a cell phone around one forty-five with a report of an injured woman in the alley behind Pete’s Tavern. Chuck and I arrived less than five minutes later to find Pete squatting beside Ms. Morgan, holding her hand. He told us he stepped outside to dump a load of garbage about fifteen minutes after last call and spotted her next to the dumpster.”
“Anyone else hanging around?” Tye asked.
Tom shook his head. “Not that he—or we—saw. The paramedics arrived only a few minutes after we did, and Ms. Morgan spent most of that time going in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t tell us or the medics anything, so nobody knows what happened.”
“Chuck out there getting things started?”
“He is. He did an initial search of the area and talked with the last of the stragglers hanging out in the bar.”
“And?” Tye asked.
“I talked to him about ten minutes ago. He didn’t find anything. Not her purse, her car, nothing. Of the people he interviewed at the scene, not one of them saw anything, and Pete said she hadn’t been in the bar earlier.”
Tye dropped his hands and paced the width of the hallway. “Okay. Call Steve in from SBI. Tell him to get out there and scour that alley to see if he can find any trace evidence.” He stopped and threw Tom a hard glance. “He knows the drill, but I want you to go back out there assist him anyway. You and Chuck make sure he bags and tags even the tiniest speck. Nothing is to be considered irrelevant. I want the fucker who did this caught, and caught quick.”
Tom straightened, nodded with a quick, “Yes sir,” and headed out of the ER, leaving Tye alone to deal with his thoughts. He leaned against the door frame and stared at Laine’s motionless body. What in God’s name had she been up to? Those rope burns… Jesus. Scenario after scenario bombarded his mind with possibilities of how she got those, but only one captured the top spot. The whole thing was just too similar to what that guy lurking around Club Euphoria had done all those years ago.
Hoping to hell he was way off base, he silently moved to her bedside. He had to know, had to see if she had any other markings anywhere else on her body. Even as he gently pulled on the edge of her hospital robe to get a better look at her neck and upper chest, he couldn’t help but think how much of a dick he was for entertaining the idea that Laine would readily go to a sex club at all, not when she was lying here completely beat to hell.
He supposed it was the Dom in him taking over. He was a friend of the county sheriff where those beatings had taken place, and he and Sheriff Mckay had a private lifestyle in common. He’d been more than willing to help care for those women in the aftermath of what the lowlife’s lawyer had so wrongly labeled during his trial as consensual erotic bondage roping. There was definitely nothing consensual or erotic about what that guy had done to those women. He had blatantly attacked them and held them against their will for hours before hogtying and beating them to within an inch of their lives, only to toss them away after he’d had his fill.
Could he have been released from prison so soon? Or was this someone new, some sort of copycat? Even as Tye contemplated those two questions, a third and fourth raced through his mind. Was Laine into the bondage scene—a thought that, even though the situation was a grim one, had his mind and cock warring with each other—and if that was the case, was the nightmare from five years ago starting all over again? Was Laine a new victim?
If she was—or even if she wasn’t—the rope burns meant only one thing. She’d been tied up.
He didn’t see any other marks on the upper part of her body where ropes may have cut into her skin, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. His gut churned as he lifted the blanket off her legs to take a peek further down. There was nothing—until he got to her ankles.
Hell. They were just as red and raw as her wrists.
As rage welled inside his chest, he settled the blanket back around her legs and lifted his gaze to her face. She looked so damn peaceful, tranquil almost. But he knew that wouldn’t last. Once she woke up, turmoil would replace that beautiful calm expression. He hated for her to go through the roller coaster of emotions waiting for her and vowed right then to stand by her side through every bit of it. He’d hold himself in check and be there, no matter what she may say or do to convince him otherwise. Because deep down he had a raw, unshakeable knowledge that he and Ms. Laine Morgan were completely in sync. He could feel it to his bones, he could taste it on his tongue.
And through all the hell that was to come, he’d do his damnedest to show her that. If his hunch was right, if she had visited one of the few private clubs in the area…
Fuck, even if she hadn’t, it didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was finding the person who hurt her. That and helping her get through this. He’d damn well do anything and everything within his power to make that happen.
* * * * *
Laine tried to lick her lips. They felt thick—too thick. Dry and sore, too. When she lifted her hand to touch them with the expectation of finding cracked skin, her fingers hit some sort of plastic instead.
Odd, but she couldn’t seem to care. Lord, she was tired. So damn tired. Weak and achy too. She dropped her hand and rested it on her hipbone, curling her fingers around a soft blanket.
A b
lanket? She didn’t have a blanket with her. Especially one that felt like this.
Still, she didn’t care. She was warm, sleepy. Grabbing the blanket to pull it higher, she tilted her head the tiniest bit, ready to snuggle further into it, when a blinding pain pierced her left temple and throbbed a stabbing trail of ice picks across her forehead.
Holy crap.
Her breath caught and she bit back a moan. What in the world…
In an excruciating rush, panic replaced confusion.
The darkness. The cold. The ropes. Her screams.
No. No, no, no.
With her held breath aching in her chest, she forced her eyes open, but only managed to barely crack one. Even though the room around her glowed with a dim bluish hue, she had to squint against the searing stab the faint light caused. Steady beeps filled her ears along with muffled, raspy breaths she realized were her own.
Okay, so she wasn’t being held inside that old van anymore. Nor was she bound and gagged. She was… Safe? Or not. Or… Oh God, she didn’t know where she was.
In an attempt to ease the daggers shooting through her brain, she closed her eyes and let out a slow, even breath. But it didn’t work. Nor did it calm her out-of-control heart rate or put a halt to the gruesome images stampeding behind her eyelids. One after another they popped up, each one more frightening than the last.
Fight or flight grabbed her in a chokehold, and the choice was a no-brainer. She had to get the hell out of here.
But where was here, exactly?
Despite the incessant beeps, the rest of the room was quiet—almost too quiet. A weak groan escaped her lips when she tried to open her eyes again and sit up to get a better look around. Every square inch of her body ached and even the tiniest movement made her head pound even more. The aches and throbs she could deal with, if only her thoughts and vision would clear.
Movement from the corner of the room snagged her attention. There was somebody there, somebody watching her. But she couldn’t focus, couldn’t see. She couldn’t tell who the hell it was.
It was him. It had to be him. She thought she’d escaped. She had, hadn’t she? But he found her. Somehow he found her. She sucked in another breath, pushing herself back, back, away… God, she had to get away.
He moved then, creeping toward her. Stalking her. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t. A god-awful screech came out instead, one that made her throat burn as if she’d just swallowed a ball of fire.
She didn’t have enough time, she wasn’t going to make it. He kept coming, just like he had before. He was reaching out to her now with those hands. Those huge hands.
Damn her blurry vision. If she was going to die, she at least wanted to look into the eyes of the person who was going to kill her.
The thought was brave, yet fleeting. In the next second, self-preservation took over. “No!” she squeaked. “No, God no…” She curled into herself and covered her head with her arms the best she could, kicking out with her legs, trying to save herself, to keep him away.
“Easy, easy! Laine, stop.”
She couldn’t stop, she couldn’t let him hurt her again.
“Laine! It’s me. Stop.”
The man grabbed her legs and held them down by practically lying on top of her. He was strong, so strong, and she was far too weak. She didn’t stand a chance.
“Laine, for God’s sake, look at me.”
The voice—deep, familiar, and a little rough—ricocheted through her thoughts. She tried to kick one final time, but it did no good. He held her down too tightly.
“Come on now. Settle down. You’re safe. I’ve got you, and you’re safe.”
She stilled and listened to the voice once again. Burning breaths seesawed in and out of her lungs and she was sure her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She sucked back a clean breath, then another, before lowering her arms and peeking over her shoulder.
“Who…” she croaked. She squeezed her good eye shut for a moment to refocus, praying the spasms of pain racking her brain and body would ease at least a fraction, before she worked to open it again slowly. When she was finally able to clear her vision and focus long enough to get a good look at the man holding her down, she bit back a grateful cry instead of screaming like she had just moments ago.
Tye Carter.
How… Why was he here? How did he know where she was?
“Where am I?” she managed in a gravelly, breathy murmur.
“In the ER,” he said, easing off her legs and trying unsuccessfully to straighten the rumpled blanket before giving up and standing beside the bed.
Dear God. She tried to push herself up again. “The ER? How did I…” She could barely croak the words out. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I gotta get out of here—”
This time two hands came to her shoulders to roll her over and hold her down. “Oh no. Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I have to,” she said, renewing her struggle against him. Jesus, it hurt to speak, to move. To think.
“No.”
She stopped for a moment, whether to absorb the command his rugged, masculine voice created or because of the incessant ringing in her ears, she couldn’t be sure. “Tye…”
His name sounded odd rolling off her thick tongue, or maybe the awkwardness slammed into her from the many memories of how she’d been moaning the name in her dreams for months now. Either way, she couldn’t believe he was really here.
Sketchy breaths echoed in the plastic covering her nose and lips. She reached up with a shaky hand and yanked the mask down under her chin. “Why are you here?”
His dark eyes softened as he ran his hands through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed next to her thigh. The innocent touch—his leg sliding next to hers—whizzed past her pain and zinged her with an awkward fireball straight to her gut.
“Pete found you behind his bar.”
She ended up at Pete’s place? She’d been in that van a long time, she knew, by the time she’d come around. All she’d remembered was grabbing that screwdriver and stabbing her attacker with it after he’d pulled over to come at her again. She’d then flung the slider door open and blindly jumped out. She’d run, but she didn’t know for how long. God, she didn’t have a clue.
When she laid her head back on the pillow, weary from even that little bit of remembering, she bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t cry out from the pain. “Hells bells. I think a herd of buffalo is stampeding through my brain.”
“You’ve got a concussion.”
Her only reply was a weak moan.
He shifted to hitch his foot up on the chair next to the bed. “Tell me what happened.”
What? Oh hell. She didn’t even want to think about it, let alone confess to him where she’d gone tonight. All she wanted was to forget, for all of it to simply go away.
Yeah, fat chance of that happening.
Her good eye stung with the threat of looming tears as the tip of her nose warmed and tingled from what was sure to be a horrendous, slobbery breakdown. She’d do just about anything to not cry right now, especially in front of Tye. But even as she pulled back on the reins of her imminent crash, she could do nothing to stop her traitorous chin for speaking for her and trembling. Regardless, she unwaveringly met his stare, yet said nothing.
Tye lowered his chin to his chest and reached for her hand, concentrating as he stroked his thumb across her knuckles. The tenderness of this one simple gesture rocked her to the core, as did the disquiet in his eyes when he looked at her again. “Silence won’t work, Laine. I need you to tell me what happened. The longer we wait…” He paused. ”You know you can trust me. With whatever it is.”
She carefully cocked her head to study him further, and the sincerity in his gaze took her aback. Sweet heaven, now that she was here facing him… The mere thought of him finding out the truth of what happened tonight—let alone where she was when it all happened—she didn’t want that, didn’t want to deal with how
awful she’d feel if he started to look at her differently.
So she did what she did best. She tossed up her tough-woman persona and locked all those insecurities away in the corner of her mind. If she ignored all the bad, then her troubles would disappear, right? The twisted idea worked for her, but only for a moment.
“I trust you.”
His thick, black eyebrows drew together over the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Since the day she met him, she’d loved his eyes. The dark chocolate shade and the long, lush eyelashes surrounding them. A girl could get lost in eyes like that. And she ought to know, she’d done it often enough herself.
But still she kept quiet.
“Damn it, Laine. I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”
The fierceness of his statement snapped her back to reality. “I know. But…” Even though her heart was screaming that she’d love nothing more than to watch him rip apart the man who did this to her, she wasn’t sure how to start. Where to begin.
“But?” The tenacity lacing that one word pierced her deep. “I’m not going to let this drop. One way or another I’ll get my answers, so you might as well cut the chase and tell me now. What happened? Who hurt you? Who the hell did this to you?”
A knot formed in her chest and her heart ached more than the rest of her body at the concern on his face. Out of everyone she’d ever met in her life, she knew Tye Carter was the type of man she could count on. He was dependable. Understanding. Powerful, yet quiet. And every bit of that spoke to her in ways she’d never experienced before.
But this situation was different. This wasn’t about Laine Morgan, Public Defender. This was about Laine Morgan, the woman. This was about her secrets, her hidden desires. And about how, after lowering her defenses for the first time in her life to try something new, she’d nearly been killed.
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