White Trash Beautiful

by Nichole Severn

  Luke had gone in blind.

  A wretched smell engulfed him, the stink of rotting meat and blood mixing into a horrifying union. Nearly vomiting from the smell alone, he covered his nose and mouth with one arm, his gun in the other hand, and moved deeper into the darkness. Across the great expanse of the warehouse, almost one hundred feet away, a light shone dimly. Through the hunks of hanging pork and beef, he could barely make it out, just like when he’d gone into the junkyard. Only this time, Luke had come prepared.

  The smell seemed to be coming from there. A sliver of fear crept along the back of his neck, raising the small hairs there, and shot down into his chest. His heartbeat picked up. Even from more than fifty feet away with the room dimly lit, he could see the red liquid slithering across the concrete floor.

  “Oh, God, no.” Luke ran as fast as he could toward the room, drawn to it. “Trey!” He rounded the corner, his stomach heaving from the smell and the sight of the lump of flesh on the metal table in the center of the room. It didn’t look human to him, folds of pink flesh filleted, curving around the confines of the aluminum table. Blood coated the floor while pieces of dark hair clogged the drain in the middle of the room.

  Bile rose in his throat.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” a voice said from behind.

  Luke turned, but not in time to catch the wrench smashing into his head.

  ****

  He couldn’t move his arms or legs. Luke fought against the restraints before opening his eyes, but he wasn’t strong enough. Grogginess ruled his mind and body. The light above made it hard for him to focus and his head ached. “Trey,” he whispered, opening his eyes completely.

  “You coming here makes my job so much easier,” Stark said from above. “Thank you for that, Officer Johnson.” A pair of latex gloves snapped against his skin as he put them on.

  “Where is she?”

  “Ms. Aston?” Stark laughed. “Well, you saw what was left of her on that table back there. An experiment, mind you. I’ve been saving the best for you.”

  His entire body felt heavier than he ever remembered it being. The hole that had been healing over the last few days ripped in every direction, rage, sorrow and loss bursting from the center of his chest. Luke had thought he’d been prepared for the worst, but realizing he’d never see Trey again, touch her, comfort her, settle down with her, it became too much. A scream ripped itself from his throat, mirroring the agony in the one he’d heard before entering the warehouse. “I...fucking kill you, you son of a bitch!” Tears slid down his face as a sob built in his chest. He fought against the restraints once again, praying the cuffs would loosen so he could wrap his hands around the psychopath’s throat. Energy drained from his body in one exhale. “I kill you,” he said breathlessly. “I kill you.”

  Pulling back, syringe in hand, Stark gave him a closed-lipped smile as he closed his eyes. The expression on his face told Luke he’d given the killer exactly what he wanted, making the situation that much worse. Pleasure. Content. These were the emotions bombarding Luke as he stared back at the man he would kill.

  Whatever Stark had injected him with, it was working. Limb by limb his body relaxed further into the table. Hardly able to move, Luke thought only of escaping the cuffs strapping him to the table. A set of handcuff keys remained in his uniform pocket, but the ability to get to them hung in doubt.

  Stark moved around the table, seeming to disappear from the room completely.

  Nothing gave him a hint as to where the psychopath might have gone or if he would return, but it didn’t matter. He needed to escape. He needed to get to Trey, no matter how many pieces he would bring her back in.

  The sound of squeaky wheels echoed around the barren room, but Luke couldn’t turn his head to see what Stark had wheeled in. The feeling in the pit of his stomach told him he’d be forced to look at Trey’s remains, to watch the son of a bitch desecrate her further. Unable to close his eyes, Luke justified that it was the frigid North Dakota air that pulled tears from the corners.

  “There,” Stark said, his tone light and playful. “One big, happy family.”

  He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His ears and vision worked perfectly, but he fought against the cuffs in vain. Coming within inches of him, Stark grasped his head, turning it ever so slightly as Luke registered what lay on the table beside him.

  Trey.

  Elation unlike he’d ever experienced before sang throughout his entire body. Had he been able to smile, Luke imagined he’d never stop after seeing her alive.

  She didn’t respond, didn’t seem to be able to.

  “I tend to enjoy psychological torture rather than the physical. So here we are. I’ve injected her with a neurotoxin to keep her from screaming.” Stark moved in front of Luke’s vision, blocking Trey from his view. “I do love the sound, but now she’s completely paralyzed. Don’t know why I didn’t think of using it before she tried to kill me. I won’t make the same mistake with you.”

  Luke stared into Trey’s bright, green eyes as metal objects hit the table beside him. He didn’t know what they were, couldn’t see where Stark had gone, but it didn’t matter. Trey hadn’t been the hunk of meat he’d seen in that first room. She’d been left whole. He’d found her and he would die staring into her eyes.

  Positioning himself between the two tables, one hand on each, Stark leaned down to level his face with Luke’s. “With her father out of the way, Trey has graciously accepted his debt. However, for missing this last month’s payment, I must punish her.” He straightened, then fondled what looked to be a scalpel on the edge of Trey’s table. “However, it seems torturing her doesn’t bring about the result I’m looking for. But then you walked in, so ready to save the day.” Stark smiled again, his fingertips brushing over the sharp blade. A droplet of blood seeped from the pad of his thumb, but Stark didn’t pay it any mind. “So, Officer Johnson, you have become my new muse.”

  A single tear slipped from the corner of Trey’s eye and Luke wished he could wipe it away. He forced all of his focus into fighting against the restraints, but again, nothing happened. The realization that she would watch him die hit him hard in the chest. She didn’t deserve this. None of it had been her fault. A small groan left his lips in exertion. He’d come to save her, not only from Stark, but from herself, and he would fail.

  “Shall we begin?”

  No answer he could give would convince Stark to change his mind, but sounds in the main warehouse distracted the maniac.

  “Did you bring along a friend, Officer?”

  Footsteps echoed in Luke’s ears. Stark had left.

  A perfect chance to get Trey out of here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trey couldn’t close her eyes. Whatever Stark had given her made it impossible. She didn’t want to watch as Stark tortured Luke for a debt she’d incurred. None of this had been his fault. Her vision had gone blurry, she imagined from tears, but couldn’t be sure. His head had been turned toward hers, and like Shakespeare’s Juliet she would be forced to watch her love die.

  Blood dripped onto the table from the cut around his eye, a slow, steady purgatory in her mind. Minutes had passed since Stark’s departure, but only her fingertips had broken the spell over her body. She’d slowly been coming back under her own control. She would get them out of here. One way or another.

  She moaned in frustration. Trey couldn’t hear anything out in the warehouse to signify if Stark would be back or if someone had come after Luke. She prayed the latter was what had caught the psychopath’s attention. She fought to turn her head and had slowly made progress when a form backed into the room.

  Trey froze, a small piece of hope swelling in her chest.

  Tucker.

  She moaned again, trying to get his attention.

  He turned, his eyes wide. “Holy shit!” he hissed, but covered his mouth with his hand. Tucker rushed to Luke’s side and Trey relaxed. Yes, Tucker needed to get Luke out first. The deputy’s hands w
orked over the cuffs, but his eyes narrowed. He looked up at her in panic. “Where’s the key?”

  “In my hand,” Stark announced.

  Trey’s entire body tensed as she watched Tucker miss the bucket that swung at him from behind by millimeters and wondered what Luke must be thinking. He couldn’t see a damn thing. She wiggled her fingers freely as Tucker ran behind her, Stark following closely behind.

  “Well, can I have it please?” Tucker asked sarcastically. A shit-eating grin crossed his features. Always one to joke around, Luke’s partner pulled his gun, his face sobering instantly. It wasn’t the service piece she usually saw him with, which meant he’d come of his own volition and not as one of Parkvista’s finest.

  Gratefulness flooded through her, but Trey focused all of her energy on bending her arm. The cuff slid with her as she moved. Tucker could keep Stark busy, but she had to get Luke out.

  The movement didn’t seem to attract any attention apart from Luke’s frozen gaze and she did it again with the opposite arm. Her legs were next, followed by her head. The drug had almost completely worn off and the pain associated with it took her breath away. Broken ribs, bruises, these were things she’d gotten used to, but looking down at her stomach, Trey nearly threw up. Sliced into ribbons, some hanging by mere centimeters of skin, her skin resembled a Picasso. Dizzy from the sight, and possibly the blood loss, Trey rested her head back against the cold table.

  Realizing she would die in this warehouse, in front of Luke, Trey closed her eyes. She wasn’t getting out of here. Tucker would take Luke first and she would bleed out in the process.

  From the sound of it, Stark and Tucker circled around to her table, a mere shuffling of feet, putting Stark directly behind her, but she didn’t care. Nothing could save her now. Her injuries were too great.

  A soft moan filled her ears, more mewling than anything else, but Trey refused to open her eyes. She couldn’t handle the blank expression on Luke’s face, couldn’t let him see her giving up on life. The moan sounded again and her eyes prickled with tears. Seconds passed slowly. Breathing. Ragged, hurried. Comprehension came in slow waves like those on a beach, small currents of understanding. Her breathing. A sob built in her chest, Luke’s moan begging her to look at him.

  She opened her eyes, tilting her head to the right. Her gaze leveled with his for one last time. Her entire future lay within his brown eyes. Happiness. Safety. Love.

  “You have a choice to make, officer.” The scalpel beside her vanished for only a moment, but reappeared at Trey’s throat. “The prostitute or your partner.” The blade pressed harder against the flesh of her neck and she felt droplets of her own blood slide down her neck. “You only have one shot, which means you only have time to save one of them. Which will it be?”

  Tucker lowered his weapon slowly.

  “If I kill you, then you can’t kill either of them. Isn’t that how it goes?” Tucker asked.

  “Are you sure you’re fast enough?”

  Ignoring the pain biting at her throat, the ache in her chest and the sorrow coating her tongue, Trey met Luke’s eyes, forcing as much love and apology into them as she could. She wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, in his apartment, in his bed. She never should have left Parkvista, never should have run from him. Now, she would die without the chance to tell him the truth. She loved him. She always had. She wanted to be loved by him, settle down with him and whatever else came along. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, protected, loved. Saved.

  Without warning, Tucker fired.

  ****

  The wailing sirens didn’t come with a sense of dread or the urge to run in the opposite direction. They told Trey she’d survived, but what kept her from sinking into oblivion was the hand resting on her forearm.

  Its warmth radiated throughout her entire body, encouraging the cuts to mend and the bruises to fade. She stared at it, memorizing each flake of skin, the color and scars on the back, enamored with the fact that Luke had insisted on riding with her in the ambulance. Refusing treatment of his own, he’d stayed with her from the moment Tucker had pried her off the metal table.

  Paramedics reached over her, shoving a needle in her arm and an oxygen mask over her face. None of it distracted her, however. Her eyes were glued to the chocolate-brown gaze staring right back at her.

  “She’s steady,” one of the paramedics said. “You can talk to her, but you might not get any coherent responses. She’s cut up pretty bad.”

  Luke leaned closer, his left hand clasping hers as his right brushed her jawline. Trey closed her eyes, committing the feel of his skin against hers to memory.

  “How are you feeling?”

  The look he gave her made her want to die. She’d been an idiot to turn her back on him. She chuckled at her own pathetic tendencies, the oxygen mask fogging up, but the action sent a sharp pain through her chest. She inhaled slowly and opened her eyes. The coffee-colored eyes she thought she’d never see again stared back at her, ungrudging, judgeless. “Like ground hamburger.” The words came out muffled from the mask.

  “I thought I’d lost you.” Luke brought her hand to his lips, keeping it there as the ambulance made a wide turn.

  Into the hospital, she assumed. The memory of his disgust toward her had burned itself at the back of her eyes. Trey tried to give him a smile, tried to push away the thought, but the split in her lip suddenly reminded her that she had, in fact, been thrown back into reality. “You did.”

  Seeming to know exactly what she’d thought of, Luke’s face softened with sorrow. “Please forgive me.”

  Her heart lurched toward him. There were so many possibilities to answer the question running rampant in her head. For which part? Trey turned toward the paramedic at her right as the ambulance stopped for a distraction. She couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. Not yet. “Will my bags be waiting in my room?” she joked. Before she received her answer, however, medical personnel pulled her gurney from the transport. Her hand slipped from Luke’s, the tingling sensation produced from his touch still lingering.

  The blue sky above disappeared as they rolled her into the hospital. All too soon, her chest grew tight. Fear slithered beneath her skin. What if Stark wasn’t the only person sent for her? What if they were waiting in her room? Trey searched for the only thing that would bury the memories of her kidnapping, her eyes darting from person to person around her. “Don’t leave,” she whispered, tears prickling at her eyes. “Please don’t leave.” The hysteria had finally made an appearance, drowning her in her own self-loathing. Sobs racked her body, tears spilling from her eyes.

  Then it stopped.

  The tingling sensation returned when Luke wrapped his hand in hers. Warm. Safe. Loved. “I’m here, Trey.”

  “Stay with me.”

  Another needle went into her arm as the gurney pushed open a set of double doors. She didn’t understand what the doctors said, where they were taking her or how long she’d be able to keep herself awake, but it didn’t matter.

  She’d been saved.

  ****

  Even after a month, Trey still couldn’t move as well as she wanted. The stitches in her torso had been removed earlier in the day, patches of blood seeping through her t-shirt. She made her way up the stairs slowly, her left hand gripping the railing and a batch of a dozen roses in her right.

  When she made it to the top of the stairs, she stopped to catch her breath, coming to her senses too late, and nearly turned around. Everybody in their right mind knew men didn’t want flowers.

  The door opened.

  Luke stepped out, dressed in full uniform, and froze at the sight of her. “Trey?”

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  Time seemed to slow as the awkwardness grew thicker.

  He hadn’t talked to her since they’d been rescued from the warehouse and Trey felt she knew exactly why: she’d nearly gotten him killed. Again.

  “I see you’re back at work.” She nodded to the uniform car
essing every muscle of his exquisite body. “The captain must be hard up for bodies with the McCleary’s still out there.”

  Luke only nodded, his eyes avoiding hers.

  A sour taste coated the back of her throat. Rejection. Heartache. This is what it tastes like. “I just wanted to bring these by for you.” She offered him the red roses, blushing from embarrassment. “It’s all Claire had at the shop.”

  He took them, but not without a look of confusion written all over his face. “You bought me flowers?”

  “To thank you,” she blurted. “For coming after me. Tucker told me he found out the Caminos hadn’t actually sent Stark out here for me, that he’d gone rogue?”

  Luke didn’t answer.

  She nodded slowly to herself, unable to decipher the expression on his face, but forcing herself to accept the situation. Luke had moved on. Already. “So thanks again.” Trey turned her back on him, presumably for the last time, and started down the stairs, her heart sinking into her stomach. Pain erupted in the center of her chest, but not from her injuries. He’d wanted forgiveness from her, but he wouldn’t return it. The thought made Trey stop on the second to last stair and turn to face him. She tried to keep the pain off her face, but most assuredly failed. “I didn’t want you involved in my life because I didn’t want to see you get hurt.” Her voice cracked on the last word, revealing the emotion stuck in her throat. “Not because I didn’t want you.”

  He hadn’t moved from the top of the stairs, his gaze completely focused on hers.

  “That’s all I came to say.” Trey resumed her escape slowly, each step taking her further from what she wanted. He’s letting you go, she told herself and tried to hold back the tears that would surely fall. She’d hold onto them until she at least got around the corner. Before she hit the bottom step, however, she’d failed. She exhaled fast and hard, tears falling of their own accord.

  “Trey,” he called, his tone huskier than before. “Come here.”