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Beyond Ransom (The Ransom Series)

Page 8

by A. T. Douglas


  Leo’s only been gone a few minutes, but it feels like hours. I may have had the opportunity to get some of this feistiness out of my system in the shower, but I still feel drawn to him.

  He’s getting water for me. In my rush to be done with the shower and get dressed, I didn’t think to take advantage of the gallons of liquid pouring over my body that I could have been drinking from.

  I barely hear Leo’s footsteps outside the door in his approach. The way that he walks, almost as if on his toes so that his feet barely make a sound when they touch the floor, is so distinguishable to me now. It’s the perfect complement to the way he carries himself: smooth, strong, and confident.

  My pulse quickens again as Leo appears from behind the door. I was attracted to guys in high school, and even dated some of them, at least as much as my dad would let me, but I’ve never felt this pull toward another human being as much as I feel it with Leo. I don’t bother trying to truly analyze it or understand it. I don’t know what he represents to me yet, but I’d like to find out.

  Leo slips inside the door and closes it behind him. I readjust on the cot as he sits down and hands me the water bottle. An appreciative smile smoothes out my face. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He grins and watches me as I down half the bottle before taking a break to get some air.

  “What did you mean before?” I ask, knowing he won’t want to talk about it but unable to control my curiosity. “When you said you weren’t protected, what was that about?”

  The smile quickly fades from Leo’s face. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t think you want to hear about that.”

  “More like you don’t want to talk about it,” I retort. By the slight smirk that’s worked its way into his features, I know he knows I’m right.

  “You really want to know?”

  I nod my head at the same time that I’m trying to drink from the bottle, ready to finish it off.

  Leo sighs heavily. “Mark’s more than just my boss.”

  I drop the bottle from my lips and my eyes widen. “Don’t tell me he’s your–”

  “No, he’s not my father,” Leo interjects.

  “Thank God,” I breathe out. “I can’t imagine someone like you being created by that monster.”

  Leo gives me an uneasy look. “That’s the thing. In a way, he did make me who I am.” Leo’s eyes drift toward the closed door. “He sort of unofficially adopted me when my parents died. I was only eight. My dad was high-ranking on Mark’s crew. People came for us–Mark’s enemies–and they killed my parents in our home. They almost got me, too, but Mark intervened. He saved my life.”

  I stare at Leo, my lips parted in disbelief, but internally all the pieces are coming together for what happened next. I’ve felt the scars on Leo’s chest. I’ve seen what Mark’s capable of in his physical and mental abuse.

  “Mark essentially raised me,” Leo continues. “He taught me everything I know. He helped me get through school. He even took care of me financially. He was great at giving me everything, but he was just as good at taking it all away.”

  Setting the empty water bottle down at my feet, I take Leo’s arm between my hands and inspect it in the fluorescent lighting from above. I trace my fingers over the tattoos on his smooth skin until I reach a jagged line almost two inches long.

  “This is how he took it away from you,” I say, running my fingers lightly back and forth over the scar. I move them along his arm just under the sleeve of his T-shirt to find another raised area, circular and smooth. “Is this a gunshot wound?”

  Leo’s hand quickly grabs mine. He pulls it into his lap as if I’ve just found one of his secrets that I shouldn’t have. “It is, but not from Mark. That’s from the bullet that hit me the night my parents were killed. Only a few inches to the side and it could have killed me.”

  I want Leo to keep talking. It’s soothing, almost comforting to hear him speak, especially in the quiet voice he’s using to avoid any possibility of garnering attention from the rest of the building.

  “Tell me about these.” I use my free hand to run a finger over the beautiful artwork etched on his skin.

  I study the patterns and images that cover him from his wrists all the way up his arms. When I actually take the time to look at the designs up close, I realize they aren’t the skulls, crosses, and serpents that are the more typical tattoos. These markings seem to be deliberately chosen and uniquely designed. They seem almost piecemeal, as if he’s been slowly adding to them over time with no thought given to how they all relate to each other.

  I find a perfectly round black outline of a circle just past his inner wrist with only a small notch missing from it on the right side, making it look like an almost fully enclosed letter C. The simple marking intrigues me as I trace it with my forefinger.

  “This one looks unfinished,” I say jokingly. “What does it mean?”

  Leo turns to look at me, still holding my hand in his lap. “It’s a reminder of where I am and what I’m going to do.”

  I give him a confused look.

  “I’m in this endless circle,” he explains. “I had no idea what my dad really did for a living when I was younger. He was my hero, but it turns out he was a criminal, and ultimately being in this business destroyed him and his family. Now here I am, right where my dad was in the thick of Mark’s crew, but I won’t let this cycle continue. I won’t start a family and get them involved in this life. I’d rather die alone than let anyone else from my family line be destroyed by this business.”

  My gaze falls down to Leo’s arm again, my fingers tracing the large design that takes up the majority of the top of his forearm: a large tree, its trunk and lower branches thriving and vibrant with life that fades into desolate, ragged, empty branches at the top.

  “Can’t you get away? Why can’t you leave?”

  “I owe Mark everything,” he says defensively. “Despite what he’s done to me over the years, I still owe him my life, and I need to make up for so much more.” He pauses uncomfortably. “I will work for him until he lets me go… if he ever lets me go.”

  I squeeze Leo’s hand lightly and lean my head on his shoulder. He’s too damn loyal for his own good. “So you want to save me instead. That’s what this is about.”

  “I owe it to you,” he says, his voice unsteady and strained. “What your father did, putting Mark in prison… that changed the course of my life. The moment he was in prison the beatings and belittling and abuse all stopped. He was locked up, and for the first time in over ten years I was out of his reach. I had nowhere else to go, and I owed Mark for the good he did for me and for other things, so I helped continue his business while he was on the inside. By the time he got out, he was impressed with what I had accomplished and how I had grown up in his absence. He finally showed me respect.”

  “And you’re his right-hand man now.” The reality of what I’m saying hits me square in the chest, and I suddenly feel a little light-headed. I’m inexplicably and utterly attracted to my enemy’s most trusted man and adopted son.

  Leo’s hand grasps mine even tighter as he turns to look at me, pulling me out of my temporary stupor to look at his pained eyes. “Don’t you see what this means? The event that turned my life around ultimately landed you where you are now. Your father putting Mark in prison was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, but the trade-off is it led to this, to Mark needing to exact revenge on your father for the six years he lost. This is why I need to help you in any way I can. This is why I need to care about you, because I owe it to you and your father for what his actions ultimately did for me.”

  “I understand,” I say with a nod, though my mind is still wrapping itself around all of this. Our lives were both significantly changed the day my dad finally put Mark in prison. Leo got his life back that day, and it ultimately led to my life being taken away.

  Leo sighs next to me. “I’ve accepted where I’m at and what I have to do for Mark on a daily basis,
but I didn’t sign up for torturing women.” Leo breaks the connection of our hands and leans away from me. “Mark, me, all these guys… we’re not good people. We’ve done some really awful things in the name of the business, but I’ve never condoned something like this: taking someone’s kid, beating her, torturing her with mind games.” He shakes away the thought. “You have your whole life ahead of you, and Mark’s going to ruin it. He’s going to destroy everything you have for the sake of revenge.”

  A heavy silence fills the space between us. In the absence of conversation, my fingers travel to Leo’s upper arm, discovering another tattoo. It’s a beautiful depiction of a sun, but its center and rays are colored completely black, giving it an almost menacing look.

  As I encircle his arm with my hand, squeezing slightly to gauge the strength of the prominent muscles underneath his skin, a different sort of conversation develops between us. When I look up from my hand around his arm, I become very aware that my face is within inches of Leo’s, our lips with the potential to meet with the smallest movement. There is an almost palpable sexual tension between us, and it’s escalating.

  “You may think I’m losing everything,” I say, looking directly in his eyes, “but I’ve at least gained something. A couple things, actually.”

  “Don’t even say it, Morgan. This thing between us, this is nothing. It can’t be anything.”

  “It can be everything. You don’t have to run from this.”

  But he’s already running from me. He’s up from the cot and three feet away before I even finish speaking.

  “I’m not bringing you down with me. I’m not tainting you.” He’s already made it to the door.

  “Maybe I want to be tainted. Maybe I want something different. I want to feel alive.” I can’t help biting my lip a little before I say my next words. “Maybe I want you.”

  “I will not ruin you.”

  He shoots out the door. It locks with a definitive click.

  “Don’t run, Leo. You have to stop!” I call out after him, but I hear nothing.

  I’m left with nothing.

  13

  Sunshine

  I don’t remember how I got here, and I’m not sure where here is yet. My last conscious thought was lying down on the cot after Leo left, giving in to my mind’s need to sleep to escape reality and enter my dreams, even if it meant revisiting nightmares.

  I wonder if I’m in one right now.

  My head wobbles back and forth groggily, but I feel something wonderful and warm over my entire body. Sunshine. The beautiful rays of heat stream down on my skin, and I wish I could open my pores to absorb every bit of them. It’s hot under the blazing sun. I can feel a layer of sweat having already formed on my skin, but it feels amazing in the slight breeze that blows across me. For a moment I wonder if this is actually a dream, but my eyes open to confirm the nightmare I should have expected.

  After a few moments of blurry vision and blindness from the extreme light, my eyesight settles and comes back into focus. I can clearly make out Mark and Leo standing before an endless sea of desert in front of me. I’m absolutely horrified, not because of the hopelessness of the desert around me or the fact that my wrists and ankles are secured tightly to a chair, but because I’m sitting here in nothing but my bra and underwear.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, my voice raspy.

  Mark saunters his way closer to me. “You’ll find out, dear. Did you like this little surprise of waking up in the sunshine? I thought it would be more fun to drug you up before bringing you out here. I wanted to let you enjoy waking up to the sun on your beautiful body.”

  Despite the heat of the sun beaming down on me, my body shivers at Mark’s comment and the subsequent scan he performs of my overly exposed body. My thoughts are still fuzzy but now racing with mental images of what he could have possibly done to me while I was unconscious.

  “Do you know why you’re out here, Morgan?”

  There’s a subtle hint of anger in Mark’s voice. I can’t deny the dread and panic seated deep within me at the thought of this latest show of his power. I’m not ready to play this mind game, but I’m not sure this is a good time to test his patience, either, so I try to respond appropriately. “No. Why am I here?”

  It’s then that I notice the empty water bottle discarded in the dirt at Mark’s feet, taunting me, telling on me, whispering my secrets to the man above it.

  Shit.

  “Do you know what happens to people who mess with my crew and disobey me?” Mark approaches me slowly, stalking me, a predator narrowing in on its prey. “Do you think you’re on vacation? That this is some kind of hotel with amenities and room service and such?”

  Self-preservation instincts kick in, but I have nowhere to go. There’s absolutely nothing I can do other than answer all of his questions at once. “No.”

  Mark crushes the water bottle, its crinkling sound pitiful under his weighted and purposeful steps to close the distance between us. His hand finds my tender shoulder, yanking at me to demand my full attention to look into his furious eyes. “You won’t ever take advantage of one of my men again, agreed?”

  The fuzziness is gone. This wakes me the hell up, my brain kicking into high gear, transcending me over the confusion and muddled thoughts to look directly at Leo. It’s a stupid move to show my concern, but I can’t exactly think straight right now. Mark’s still expecting an answer, so I nod slightly.

  Leo looks fine. He’s keeping an even face, but I can see the worry in his eyes. He doesn’t like where this is going any more than I do.

  “Good. In that case,” Mark says, turning to Leo, “will you do the honors?”

  He’s hesitant to move before stepping to the side to grab something from nearby: a large bucket of water. I have no idea what to make of it until a towel is pulled tightly over my face and I’m tipped back in the chair. It’s then that I realize what they’re going to do.

  Oh my God.

  What feels like oceans’ worth of cold water is slowly and steadily poured on the towel over my mouth and nose, relentlessly blocking my air passages from breathing. My gag reflex immediately kicks in, and I feel like I’m drowning, like all the oxygen in the world is replaced with water and I have nothing left to breathe. The amount of time it goes on for seems like an eternity to my body in its depravation of oxygen.

  When the water stops and the towel is finally removed, I choke and gasp for air, desperate for anything to get oxygen into my burning lungs. Tears mix with the remnants of the water that still trickles down the sides of my face into my soaked hair.

  The chair is lifted back up to its normal position, and Mark is immediately beside my ear. “How did you enjoy your extra water, dear? I’m sure you were still thirsty, even after last night.”

  I sense a double meaning to Mark’s words but am having trouble finding the brain power to process it in my current state. I can’t speak, and I don’t want to. My vision is turning red, but I can still make out Leo’s concerned face only steps away from me. Just seeing him standing there gives me a small amount of strength and comfort. I feel a slight hardening in my resolve. He will help get me through this.

  I regroup, relaxing my chest, finding somewhat normal breathing again, though my lungs still burn.

  “Did you learn your lesson?” Mark says while circling me.

  “Yes,” I manage to choke out, but my voice is weak. Mark grabs my ear and pulls, viciously yanking at the sensitive skin and cartilage. “Yes!” I yell more clearly, and Mark finally releases me.

  “That will be all, then,” Mark says to me. “Enjoy the sunshine while you can. You may never feel it again.”

  He nods toward Leo, indicating for him to follow, but Leo doesn’t move. My heart races for him. He’s not supposed to show any emotion toward me in front of Mark.

  “We shouldn’t let her see the area. We need to cover her face,” Leo suggests. He removes his T-shirt, the skin of his chest and abs glistening in the bright sunshine, a
nd walks over to me. With a barely noticeable nod, he throws the shirt over my head and ties it tightly at my neck.

  “Good thinking, son.”

  I cringe at Mark’s use of the word “son” when referring to Leo. Mark may have helped raise Leo, but he is so far from being a father or any kind of real family to him.

  I barely hear them walk away in the quiet crunching of their footsteps in the dirt. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified that I’m being left alone out here.

  It’s so quiet. Other than the occasional sound of the wind around me, I hear nothing. I already know it’s pointless, but I struggle to try to release my wrists and ankles anyway, almost tipping the chair over in the process. The thought occurs to me to let the chair tip, but I decide against it.

  It’s not until at least an hour passes that I realize why Leo insisted on putting his shirt over my head, and I’m so grateful for its presence. The sunshine that felt so warm and comforting before is starting to work against me. I can feel the dangerous rays burning my skin with each passing minute that I remain out here exposed to them.

  I struggle against the restraints at my wrists and ankles again, my efforts becoming desperate in the panic taking over my body, but I still can’t break free. I’m only increasing the heat and exhaustion in my body the more I fight them, and eventually I give up.

  14

  Comfort

  I sit there in the blistering heat and sunshine for hours, sweat beading down my face under Leo’s shirt while my almost completely exposed body is scorched by the sun. Dehydration drains me of all energy. The life seems to be baked right out of me.

  I can barely think straight by the time the vicious sun starts to set, its rays not as powerful as they were in the hours before. It takes all the willpower I have left and the comfort of Leo’s scent on his shirt over my head to keep me going.

  Footsteps approach from behind me, quick steps. I don’t care if they belong to Leo or Mark or Quinn or whoever so long as they get me the hell out of this oven and back inside.

 

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