Freed (Bad Boy Hitman Romance)

by Terry Towers

  “They’ll make you feel better. Just take them.”

  It was either suffer or trust him and take the pills. I popped the pills into my mouth and accepted an open bottle of water, drinking down over half of the bottle before passing it back. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not long. An hour or two.” He took the top off the ointment and squeezed some onto his hand. “I won’t be much longer and we’ll be done.” He sat back down next to me and smoothed the ointment on my open wound, making me jump as it began to sting. “It’ll soothe the cuts. Just give it a minute or two.”

  God, I was tired. So tired. Too tired even to fight with him. Neither of us spoke as he finished apply the ointment and then dressed the wounds. I’m not sure what he’d given me; it was making me groggy, but at the same time any type of filter that I would have applied on my mouth seemed to dissolve.

  “Are you happy now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I turned my head to look at him. “I was really beginning to think I might end up being happy again, even if it was here with you.”

  His jaw clenched and for a brief second I thought I might have seen regret in his gaze, but as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. “You thought wrong.” Without another word he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone.

  ****~

  The days came and went in a blur, neither one of us saying anything other than what was necessary. It actually felt like he was avoiding me, which was fine by me. I wouldn’t have known what to say or how to act towards him anyhow. He’d brought a television and Blueray player into the bedroom but I rarely used it. Whatever he was giving me was keeping me pretty groggy and all I seemed to want to do was sleep.

  On night four it felt like the haze was lifting and I was getting too restless to stay in the room any longer. He wasn’t chaining me to the bed and to my knowledge wasn’t locking the door. Although it wasn’t like I’d have been able to get up and run miles for help or have the strength to kill him anyhow, so it was a safe bet.

  Stepping up to the full length mirror in the bedroom and turning slightly to the side, I gently pulled part of the bandage away from my lower back. The wounds were healing nicely, leaving scars along my back, Tanner had been diligent and gentle when ensuring my wounds were properly dressed.

  After going to his closet and grabbing a black button-down shirt from inside, I went to the closed door. I turned the knob and it opened. The low sound of a television on greeted me. Leaving the room, I made my way down the hallway to the living room. Entering the living room, I paused, seeing Tanner sitting on the sofa, his back to me, watching…a chick flick? Sweet Home Alabama, to be exact.

  “Why are you up?”

  I frowned. The man had some wicked good hearing!

  “I’ve been sleeping for days now. Was getting restless.”

  “Well, come on over and have a seat. You shouldn’t be walking around too much.”

  He looked over the back of the sofa to stare at me. He’d been drinking; I could see the haziness in his eyes. I hesitated. I’d never seen an almost-drunk Tanner before, I wasn’t sure if it was safe to approach.

  Tanner sighed. “I won’t hurt you, Emily. Come. Sit.”

  With hesitation I walked over to the sofa and tentatively sat on the edge on the opposite end to him. “I thought you didn’t like chick flicks,” I asked, watching him drain the glass of whiskey and then refill it, not bothering to mix it with anything, just pouring it straight.

  “I don’t.”

  Crinkling my nose up at him, I gave him a peculiar look. “Then why are you watching it?”

  “I’m not really watching it.” He gave me a forced smile then went back to staring at the television screen. “How is your back feeling?”

  “Better.” And that was the truth.

  Okay, this is…weird. I knew angry Tanner, lustful Tanner, smug Tanner. This subdued, almost depressing Tanner was…odd.

  “Then why?”

  “Huh?” He looked back at me as if he’d forgotten I was even sitting there.

  “Then why are you watching it? Why have it on?”

  Grabbing the glass of whiskey, he took a drink, swallowing down a third of the contents. He sat staring at the television screen for a minute and then turned to me. “I’ve never been in a relationship, Emily.”

  “Ummm.” Was I supposed to comment on that?

  “Not a single relationship. Never been in love. Never really been loved.” He motioned towards the television screen. “Not like that, anyhow. I sometimes wonder what it’s like, to love. I’ve never really had a craving for that type of affection.”

  “I don’t think that really exists.”

  He turned his attention back to the television and watched for another minute before looking back at me. “Maybe not.” He brow creased, staring at me more intently. “Then why do you want it?”

  “I…” I shrugged. “Because I do.”

  Taking a deep breath in, he slowly released it and nodded. “The slaves. It’s not love. They start off fearing and hating me and it turns into something else; It’s not love, it’s not even admiration. It’s something entirely different. And I hate it. I love the process, but hate what the process turns them into.” His brow creased, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “But I don’t really enjoy it anymore. Doesn’t give me that rush it used to. Nothing seems right anymore. I’m so fucking confused and I don’t like feeling this way. ”

  The question of “Why do it?” was on the tip of my tongue, but we’d had that conversation before and I remember the answer. Because I can.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You wanted to get to know me, didn’t you? We’re spending the rest of our lives together. Thought you should know.”

  Weirder and weirder.

  “I’ve told you numerous times I’m not a good guy. You shouldn’t have fallen for me. I don’t understand why you did. My life revolves around pain and self-gratification. I’m not someone any woman should fall for, especially someone like you.”

  Okay, my mouth dropped open at that comment. I didn’t. I mean, I was growing to like him, but falling for him was really reaching. “Tanner, I… I’m…”

  He cocked a brow up at me, a smirk beginning to form on his lips. “I thought we promised never to lie to each other.”

  Oh God. I raked a hand into my hair and looked around nervously, anywhere but at him. Only a sick, twisted person would have begun to care for him. He’d abducted me, forced himself onto me, sold a woman, threatened my family, bound me and let strange men stare at my naked body. Heck, he’d even shot a man! What kind of insane person could love someone like that? Was I that far gone? Was I so hard up for affection that that was what I’d accept? Or worse yet, was this just another twisted game of his; have me admit I’d had feelings to slap me in the face with them? I looked at the coffee table and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. No, it wasn’t a game. He was seriously messed up and I just happened to be the person he had to talk to about it.

  “Even if, after all the horrible things you’ve done, by some miracle I’d grown some sort of affection for you, well, you ruined that.”

  “Yeah. I shouldn’t have whipped you while angry.”

  “Excuse me?” As sick as it sounded, the whipping wasn’t what was really bothering me. Physically, I hurt. But that wasn’t anything compared to the shot he’d taken to my pride and… Dammit. Maybe he was right.

  “I don’t do things while emotional. I let you get to me and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m better than that.”

  I wanted to hit him, cuff him upside the head or something. Slowly I gave my head a shake in disbelief. “You really don’t get it, do you? You claim to be so smart, but you just don’t get it.”

  With a sigh, Tanner sank back into the sofa and downed the remainder of whiskey in the glass. Placing the glass back on the coffee table, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. So I waited, my attention
shifting to the television.

  “My mother used to believe that I could be fixed.”

  Huh? I looked back over at Tanner to see him staring at me.

  “Some scientists believe that while it’s harder to do in people who are hardwired like me, that it’s still possible to feel the emotions all normal people feel. That we can turn the empathy switch on and off like a light switch. It’s a relatively new and disputed theory. My mother was of that school of thought; I assume that’s why I’d been her guinea pig.”

  That piqued my interest. Was it possible I hadn’t imagined what we’d shared, that perhaps for the one night he’d let me in? “So, can you?”

  His face contorted into a look of disgust. “And make myself weak? Why would I want to?”

  I motioned to the television. “So you can have that. Have something meaningful.”

  “For someone that lives my life, weakness will get you killed, love.”

  Catching his gaze, I couldn’t help but reach over to him and take his hand. The gesture of affection might release the beast inside him, but I was willing to take the chance. “But you’re not living that life anymore. You just said yourself, now that you have me, there’s no need not to feel.”

  He didn’t answer, simply stared at me with a peculiar look on his face that I couldn’t quite place, but I could see him thinking, working through my words in his drunken state. Maybe in the morning he’d be able to work through it more clearly, but then again maybe in the morning he wouldn’t remember a word said between us. A little smile formed on my lips. But I would. I wouldn’t push it. I’d let him mull it over. Turning my attention to the television, I pretended to watch the movie, not missing the fact that he kept his hand in mine, our fingers laced.

  Chapter 21

  Tanner

  Take God Into Your Life and Let Him Guide You

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the sign outside Emily’s father’s church. Let God into my life? What a fucking crock of shit. At least Emily wasn’t harping on the church bullshit to me anymore; that in itself was a miracle. Praise the Lord, hallelujah!

  The church before me was a large stone building. I honestly hadn’t expected it to be massive. I guess I’d been expecting a small little church that would hold maybe a few hundred. The way Emily spoke it seemed like her father was opposed to things on a grand, elaborate scale. Maybe that just applied to his wife and children. I huffed. Hypocrite.

  Curiosity getting the best of me, I proceeded up the stone front steps and quietly slipped in. The main doors led into a foyer with a sign guiding me to the back of the building. The hallway was lined with stained glass windows, sending a kaleidoscope of colours spilling onto the floor. I’ll admit, it was awe-inspiring. The door to the chapel was ajar and, as assumed, the chapel was also massive. It could fit nearly one thousand people and virtually all of the pews were filled.

  As I silently entered and lingered towards the back for a moment, I eyed the man on stage, a microphone in his hand, preaching to his parishioners. The parishioners all sat silent, eyes fixated onto him, except for the pastor’s cues for them to say “amen.” Emily’s father was a large man, nearly as tall and broad as me, but not quite. He had the same dark hair and eyes as Emily, eyes which seemed to see everything and everyone in the church.

  I glanced around the church for a seat and noticed a pew in the back row with a lone female sitting on it, playing with her mobile phone. My eyes narrowed as I realized who it was; Emily’s little sister. This was too perfect to be true., PRAISE JESUS, must be a miracle. I attempted to keep a grim expression on my face as I silently made my way down the pew and took a seat roughly a foot away from her.

  I watched her out of the corner of my eyes. She was texting someone, not hearing a word of what her father was saying. It appeared she didn’t give a shit either. Shifting my focus back to her father, I watched him, not really paying attention to the words but taking note of every movement and expression. Something about her father wasn’t sitting right with me. His daughter was missing and it was as if he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was putting on a good show for the people, that was for sure. Too good of a show. He paraded back and forth across the stage as if he were a fucking rock star and his audience was eating it up. I could tell after ten minutes that he was cocky and arrogant; he was the kind of man who didn’t expect to be questioned, but obeyed.

  I hated him.

  Another benefit about being the way that I am is that I have an uncanny ability to read people and sense people who are like me. It might be hard for a normal person to grasp, but it’s as if we can sense our own; the mask we keep on to the general public drops and we see the darkness inside the other person. I knew without a doubt that the almighty Pastor William had a few skeletons in his closet, and was itching to uncover them. Having hundreds of people worshiping him might be enough to sate him, but I didn’t think so.

  Confident in my little discovery, I directed my attention towards sweet little sister. Her picture in Emily’s purse hadn’t done her justice. She was a stunning young woman. But she didn’t have Emily’s purity pouring from her.

  “Hey there,” I whispered, leaning in to her as if we were two conspirators.

  “Huh?” She looked up at me, her nose crinkling up in the same fashion that Emily’s did. Her eyes lowered to the screen of her phone and she shut it off, stuffing it into her purse and looked back up at me, her eyes doing a blatant sweep of me. I hadn’t missed the fact that she was sexting to some guy named Kelvin. I guessed she was the stereotypical preacher’s rebel daughter.

  “I said, hey.” I flashed her a smile that I normally reserved for women I was looking to pick up, though I had no interest in taking little jailbait home. I had my hands full with her older sister, who was still as fucking bitter as hell. Not that I blamed her, but I had a plan to fix all that as soon as I got home.

  “You don’t look like someone who attends my dad’s sermons.”

  “I’m not.”

  She rolled her eyes at me, starting to pull her phone back out of her purse, losing interest in me already. “Another reporter?”

  “Nope.”

  She stuffed her phone back into her purse and gave me another look, catching her lower lip between her teeth, her interest returning, and she slid close to me, our knees touching. “Man of mystery, huh?”

  I shrugged, faking interest. “Something like that.”

  “I see.”

  “But I did hear about your sister.”

  “Oh.” I saw a look of disgust crossing her features. It was a flash, but I noticed it. Her face suddenly turned remorseful, tears filling her eyes.

  Hmmm, interesting. “You must miss her.”

  She sniffed, leaning her head against my shoulder, swiping at her tears with the backs of her hands and looking up at me through tear-filled lashes. “I do, I really do.”

  She’s good. This bitch should win an academy award. What the fuck kind of family did Emily come from? Emily had said her sister was weak, but had a wild streak running through her – that was why she used to take the lashings on her sister’s behalf – but in my opinion that wasn’t the case at all. Her sister was letting her take the lashes. She was saving her own ass and letting big sis take the fall, and I was betting she didn’t feel the least bit sorry about it either.

  “Have you heard any news?”

  She shook her head and pulled a tissue from her purse. “Nothing. It’s horrible. What kind of person does that?”

  “An evil, twisted person.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  I diverted my attention to the front of the church, watching her father work the crowd as if he were a god. I bet the fucker actually thought that on some fucked-up level he was. Nice little setup, though, I had to admit. Damn, I was dying to know that man’s skeletons.

  Pastor William wrapped up his Sunday sermon and little sister next to me immediately sat up straight and slid a foot away from me on the pew, retaking the person
a of obedient pastor’s daughter. A woman I assumed to be Mary, Emily’s mother, stepped up and took her side by her husband. I watched as a stream of people went to him, speaking briefly and stepping aside while the next took their turn. My attention shifted to Emily’s mother. She was pretty, with long auburn hair tied up into a loose bun on top of her head. As she greeted people I saw genuine pain in her eyes and expression; she was alive, but not living. I’d stolen something from her and she was hurting in a way Pastor William and little sister wasn’t – like a person who was capable of grief.

  Spotting me with his daughter, Pastor William excused himself from the people crowding them and approached us. There was a friendly smile on his face, but it didn’t carry through to his eyes; his eyes carried suspicion as he sized me up as if I were the snake in his garden.

  We stood as he approached and extended his hand to me, his smile growing more sincere, but I knew different. “Hello, I’m Pastor William. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Your first visit with us?”

  I returned his smile, with an accompanying nod. “It’s a pleasure to meet you; this is a beautiful church.” Taking his hand, I gave it a shake.

  “Thank you. Our family just took over here a few months ago. And you are?”

  I didn’t even hesitate. “Lance Winters.” If the man before me was what I thought he was, I had no intention of letting him know my real name. If he were to go looking for Lance Winters then he’d have just about as good luck as Flynn has had.

  “I see. Unfortunately, our move here hasn’t been the kindest to us. My oldest daughter has been missing for over a month now.”

  Placing a look of dismay on my face, I nodded. “I’m so… I’m at a loss to be honest, if there’s anything I can do. I’d heard and felt compelled to come here and offer myself in any way possible.”

  The other man stared at me for another moment. “Just keep her in mind.” He reached into his inner jacket pocket and produced a wallet-sized picture of Emily. “This is Emily. If you have any information on her whereabouts, you’ll let me know.” He watched me closely as I scanned the photo.