Yum.
Nathan stepped back as I flung my legs over the side of the mattress and sat up. My ribs protested and I wasn’t looking forward to moving around or seeing the black and blue marks all over my body once I was naked.
They were only ugly reminders of what I just went through.
Bruises fade. It’s the internal damage you need to watch out for. The inner thought caused me to stumble a little as I stood.
But I didn’t fall. Nathan was there to steady me. His hands caught me around the hips, supporting me, as his pine scent whirled around us. I probably smelled like dirty butt, but he smelled delicious. So unfair.
“You doing okay?” Nathan murmured close to my ear before straightening up to look at me. He kept his hands at my waist.
I nodded.
“Come on,” he said gently. “I’ll help ya.” The southern drawl to his voice washed over me. It was like balm to an open wound. Like music notes to a song.
Yeah, okay, I could have made it to the bathroom all by myself. Still, I leaned into him just a little bit more.
You would have too.
He was so much bigger than me, something I hadn’t paid much attention to when we were on the mountain. My body had always been aware of him, but not like this. It was as if the more I was around him the more hyperaware my nerves became.
When we reached the bathroom door, he used one arm to push it open and hold it there while I walked ahead. I glanced back at my mother, and she was no longer talking to my father. She stood there watching us, smiling, while holding the phone pressed to her ear.
Yet another reason I had to go home. She was going to be relentless on insisting that Nathan and I were soul mates or some such crap like that. I was the writer, but my mother had always been a dreamer.
“Lace,” Nathan said, staring at the panties my mother displayed on top of the sink. I swear if I hadn’t known any better I would have thought she did it on purpose.
I felt my face blush as I took in the light-peach lace panties with the lavender bow at the front. I wasn’t about to grab them and hide them. Like I told my mother, I wasn’t twelve.
I tried to think of what one of the kickass heroines in my novels would do. Hell, they would probably tuck the tiny fabric into his jeans pocket and tell him to keep them.
I wasn’t that bold.
And I wasn’t about to go commando.
Talk about uncomfortable.
“Looking at a lady’s panties is impolite,” I told him, taking in the shower stall with the safety bars all around.
“I never claimed to have any manners.”
Well, if that didn’t send heat pooling into my nether regions and make me think of all the naughty things a man like him could come up with… I blushed again.
He chuckled. “Turn around.”
“What?” I asked dumbly.
“Turn around so I can untie your gown.”
“Uhhh…”
“Relax, I might not have any manners, but I sure as hell have respect.” He reached around me and felt for the tie between my shoulder blades. He found it and tugged the string as he spoke. “Figured it might be uncomfortable to reach around this far up.”
Oh, well, yeah. “Thanks,” I said, feeling a little bit of air brush over my back.
“You’re set on going home, huh?” he asked after he pulled away.
I nodded. I wasn’t going to change my mind. I didn’t want anyone else in danger because some crazed asshole was after me. And I wanted to be home, in my own bed, in my own house with my own coffee creamer.
“Can I call you, Honor?” His voice brushed over me like a caress.
“I gave you my number,”
“Give me permission to use it.”
“I thought you didn’t have any manners,” I countered, smiling.
He stroked a finger along my jawline. My entire body turned to Jell-O. “I want to hear you say it.”
I didn’t hear my voice when I spoke. I couldn’t hear anything over the thudding of my heart. “You can call me, Nathan.”
He gently hooked his hand around the back of my head and stepped closer. His lips pressed against my forehead and stayed there for long, blissful seconds. Too soon, he released me and I had to steady myself by gripping the counter.
“If you need me, call.”
I nodded.
“I mean it. I’ll always come if you need me.”
“What if you’re in the middle of hot steamy sex?” I burst out. Then I gasped. What the hell was I thinking?
Oh, wait. I wasn’t. My damn hormones had taken over.
A slow smile spread across his face. “You won’t need the phone, then, sweetheart, because you’ll be the one beneath me.”
I stared at him dumbly, unable to reply. After one long, heated look, he turned and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
The second he was gone, I collapsed against the sink in a flurry of heat and desire.
22
Nathan
I hated the quiet. It was too loud.
Meaning it made it way to convenient for the memories, for the ghosts, to come out and play.
It was going to be quiet when I got home tonight.
I decided not to go home right away. I called Patton while I was still at the hospital and he came to pick me up. I knew he would ask me questions, but I needed a ride and help with my Wrangler. I was waiting outside when he pulled up in his black Dodge Ram. On the back window was a giant Marine Corps decal sporting the eagle, globe, and anchor that made up the emblem of the Corps.
I glanced at the sky as I climbed into the truck. It was gloomy and gray, the clouds were heavy with rain, and I hoped that it held off for a while. The wind was brisk and chilly. It got cold here, and it got cold fast. I wasn’t used to this type of chill so early in the fall. I was a true southern boy, and where I came from, we didn’t even turn off our air-conditioning until it was almost November.
My fleece was still with Honor and my thermal had gone right in the trash. Blood didn’t wash out very well. And even if it had, I would never wear that shirt again. I could never wear something that Honor had bled all over; just being reminded of it would make me angry.
“Thanks for the ride,” I told Patton as I shut the door against the autumn wind.
“Sure thing, man. What’s going on?”
“You got anything going on in the next couple hours?” I asked, not yet answering his question.
“Nope.”
“No lady waiting for you at your place?”
He grinned. “You know me.” He flashed a smile as he pulled into traffic. “No strings attached.”
Patton liked women. But he hated commitment.
I understood that. Hell, I was that way too. Being in the Corps was hard on a relationship. The saying I heard many times was “if the Marines wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one in boot camp.” In other words, the job came first. A lot of families suffered for that. A lot of failed marriages. A lot of infidelity. It was hard to hold a family together when you were never home.
Marines worked long hours. Hard hours. We trained. We deployed. The job followed us home… There was no “off” time for a Marine. Our jobs didn’t end at five o’clock, and the wives—the other half of the relationship—were oftentimes left handling everything on their own.
Was it fair? Nope.
Did we get paid enough? Excuse me while I laugh.
It seemed easier just to stay single. Some days it was hard enough worrying about myself without adding someone else to the list.
But all that was before Honor.
Now I understood why some men married, why some men got out early, and why some men actually wanted to go home and not work late.
“My Jeep’s sitting up on the mountain with two busted tires. I need to swing by the house, get an extra spare, and then go out there and change them so I can drive it home.”
Patton nodded. “No problem.”
That was
the good thing about being a Marine. Even miles and miles away from home, I still had family that would be there when I needed something.
“So,” Patton began, sliding me a glance. “You gonna tell me why your Jeep’s jacked up, why you look like hell, and why you called me about Lex last night?”
“It all started with a girl,” I said.
Patton grinned. “Hell yeah, all the best trouble starts with a girl.”
I laughed. “Actually, it started with a text…”
It took the entire drive to my house and to the Wrangler for me to tell him everything. Then while we changed the tires, he asked me about a million questions. I answered them all, rattling off the information almost on autopilot as my thoughts drifted to Honor. By now she would be home. Alone.
Unless of course her mother—that woman was a piece of work—managed to strong-arm her to come home with her. I doubted that though… Honor didn’t seem like the type to be strong armed into doing anything.
“Reed,” Patton said from above.
I glanced up. He was standing there looking at me with a weird expression on his face. “What?”
“Dude, you got it bad.”
“Got what?” I said as I finished tightening the last of the lug nuts.
“She must be hot,” he said with a smirk.
I didn’t really like him talking about her. At all. “She’s not one of your one-night stands,” I said, giving the nuts one last tightening.
He chuckled. “She gonna be one of yours?”
I dropped the lug wrench on the ground and stood. “Since some sicko that we played poker with tried to jam his cock down her throat, I would say trying to get in her pants would be a little shitty. Even for me,” I spat.
Patton swore. “He in jail?”
“Stupid cops can’t find him.”
“We need to do a little recon on our own?”
“It’s definitely an option.”
“I’m up for it. Hell, half the guys in the unit would be all over this. We’d get him in less than twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
We gathered up the tools and threw the ruined tires in the bed of Patton’s truck as thunder began to rumble overhead. It reminded me of just last night, how I was running through this very wood, trying to get Honor the hell out of there.
It also reminded me of gunfire.
“Hey,” Patton said as I dug my keys out of pocket.
“Yeah?”
“You know I didn’t mean nothing earlier. I was just kidding. I might have a lot of one-night stands, but I respect women. I would never—”
“Yeah, man. I know.” I clapped him on the back. “I’m just pissed off.”
“You got a right to be.”
“Thanks for giving me a hand. Beer’s on me next time.”
Patton nodded. “You know you saved her life, right?”
After that we parted ways.
As I drove home, I wondered if saving her life made up for the one I wasn’t able to save.
23
Honor
I liked the quiet. But today it was too silent.
Usually, the characters that lived in my head, the unseen worlds where I seemed to exist kept me occupied the entire day.
Today, those characters were inaudible. The worlds were hushed. It was almost as if they stayed away because they knew I wouldn’t be able to deal with them and reality. I needed a break from reality. I wanted the voices back.
I smiled to myself as I wandered down the hallway and into my bedroom. I should call the doctor and ask him where the voices went. In my room, I drifted over to one of the windows that overlooked the trail. Burnished orange leaves fell from the trees and floated down onto the gravel walkway.
I felt the familiar tug I always did to go out there and walk, to breathe in deeply of the crisp air. I turned away from the sight. It might be beautiful, it might be peaceful out there… but sometimes looks were deceiving. The last time I was out there I was taken. Violated. Hurt.
I padded across the light-colored carpet and tugged open the white closet doors on the other side of the room. My clothes hung neatly and sat in folded stacks. I selected my favorite pair of black leggings and an oversized gray shirt with dolman sleeves. My father always said this shirt made me look like I had wings.
If I had wings today, I might fly away.
Even though I showered at the hospital, I took off the jeans and sweater my mother brought me and tossed them across the foot of my queen-sized bed. It was still neatly made from yesterday. The white comforter remained tucked tidily around the mattress and the earth-colored pillows were strategically placed the way I liked them.
I went into the bathroom, wincing at the coldness of the tile floor against my bare feet. I thought about showering again, I wanted to, but I didn’t want the hassle of trying to keep my stitches dry. Instead, I used a fluffy white cloth to wash my face (one handed) at the sink and then I applied a really yummy smelling, rich lotion to my poor battered skin.
It was the first time I really looked at myself since being kidnapped. Yeah, there was a mirror in the bathroom at the hospital, but I avoided it. I wasn’t ready to see. But being home made me feel a little stronger.
The swelling around my eye wasn’t as bad as I knew it was before. My vision was a lot less impaired now. It was still puffy and sore looking. The bruise was a deep purple shade that no makeup was going to cover. It circled around my entire eye, making me look like a raccoon. My lower lip was partially swelled as well. It was also bruised, but it was small and already yellowing. There were various scrapes across my cheeks, likely from all the times I fell and hit my face against the ground.
At least I didn’t look incredibly pale… All the injuries were too colorful for that.
My midsection looked the worst. The entire side of my ribs was black and blue. It also appeared lumpy and it made me recoil. From what the doctor said, it would be a while for them to heal. I was going to be stiff and sore, breathing was going to be a pain, and I was just going to have to live with it.
I would rather live with broken ribs than be dead.
The scrapes across my knuckles were only partially visible because gauze was wrapped around the stitches. I knew I could take off the wrapping, but I wasn’t ready for that yet. I’d rather keep the stitches covered. The skin on the back of my other hand was itchy and a little tingly.
I soaked the tape in a little bit of warm water and then peeled it off. It hurt, but the relief of having that crappy medical tape off me was worth it. My skin was angry and red where it had been and there was a red rash covering the area. In the center was a bruise, and I wondered if the nurse had been careful at all when she jammed the IV into my hand.
My hair was in a simple braid and I let it loose, shaking the waves around my shoulders. I liked the way it felt when the ends of my hair brushed over my bare shoulders. After I brushed my teeth, I pulled on the leggings and shirt and added a pair of slippers that looked like boots.
I put on a pot of coffee and waited in the kitchen for it to drip enough for me to fill a mug, and I added some of my favorite cinnamon-flavored creamer. The first sip was heaven. It was like a warm blanket for my insides. Just holding the warmth of the mug between my chilled fingers was comforting.
I let out a contented sigh and then carried my mug out into the living room where I settled with a blanket on the couch.
I picked up my Kindle and turned it on, calling up the newest book I was reading by Jennifer Armentrout, and then sat it in my lap. Vivid images of Lex scattered my concentration and took away whatever peace I’d managed to find.
Maybe I shouldn’t have let my mother go home after all. Maybe I should have asked her to stay. Maybe I should have given in and went home with her.
I could call her. She would come. Or my father would.
Instead, I clicked on the TV and found some old romantic comedy that always seemed to be playing. I knew I should pull up my soci
al media. I likely had hundreds of notifications, messages, and emails to go through.
But what was I supposed to say?
Sorry I haven’t been around. I almost died. I was kidnapped and the man who did it is still out there.
No computer for me today. I wasn’t ready to deal with anything. I drank my coffee and stared at the TV for a long time, but I didn’t really pay attention.
I wondered about Mary. About what the police told her family when I gave them the locket. I wondered if they changed her case from missing person to search and recovery. I knew she was dead. I hated it. I knew that she likely suffered horribly before she died. I hated that too.
Where was the justice for Mary? For any of his victims?
Was there a punishment worthy of such a heinous crime?
Death seemed too easy. Sitting in jail didn’t seem like enough either. I asked myself what a fitting penance was for a man who tortured women.
A little while later, I forced myself to eat some toast and I drank more coffee. My eyes kept going to my laptop, but I never turned it on. My dad called to make sure I was okay, and my mother got on the line to see if I changed my mind about coming home.
I told her I was already home.
Then I promised I would come over the next day to visit.
At eight o’clock, I crawled into bed, leaving on the bathroom light. I was exhausted, but it took a while to fall asleep.
I was running on the trail, the sun filtering through the trees and the sound of water rushing through the river at my side. I wasn’t running because I wanted to, though. I was scared. My heart beat frantically and fear seized my body. As I ran, I looked over my shoulder, so afraid that he’d caught up. He was there, but I was still just out of his reach. I told myself to go faster, to get the hell away, but I felt like my feet were encased in concrete.
“The cat always catches the mouse,” the voice behind me taunted.
I tripped and stumbled, fell hard onto my hands and knees. He laughed and pounced on me. I fell down, lying on my belly as he covered his body with mine.
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