Cut Too Deep

by Marissa Farrar

  Jenna sobbed.

  All she could hope was that someone had seen what had happened.

  She tried to see if the man’s chest was rising, or if she could feel any breath, but there wasn’t any.

  Was a dead body touching her right now?

  Garrett climbed back into the driver’s seat, got the SUV started again, and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t go far. He did a couple of maneuvers then stopped the vehicle again and climbed out. Jenna heard a couple of footsteps and then the back door opened. Garrett reached in and pulled her out, the strange man’s body falling completely to the floor, wedging between the front seats and the back.

  Jenna landed on her knees, scraping them raw. Garrett’s hand remained tight around her upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. She blinked in the bright sunlight and recognized that they were parked in Ryker’s driveway, behind Ryker’s truck. Garrett must have been attempting to park across the street when the guy had asked him to move the car.

  Garrett slammed the back door shut with his foot, shutting off the sight of the other man’s body. “I had been hoping not to park in front of the house so as not to cause suspicion, but you kind of fucked that up for me.”

  What did he expect her to say? Sorry?

  Besides, she couldn’t say anything with the filthy rag still stuffed in her mouth. Frantic, her eyes searched the properties opposite Ryker’s house, desperate for any sign of someone outside of their houses—mowing the lawn, taking out the trash, or collecting their mail. But the street was deserted. Her gaze flicked to the windows, hoping to spot a drape moving, or blind slats being separated as a nosy neighbor spied on them, but everything remained still.

  Garrett yanked her back up and wrapped an arm around her waist and half-dragged, half-carried her toward the house. Abandoned on the doorstep was the length of wood she assumed Garrett had claimed he’d hit Ryker with.

  Was she about to see Ryker’s body? She braced herself as best she could, but was preparing for her heart to shatter into so many pieces, she knew she’d never put it back together again.

  He kicked open the front door and pulled her inside before shutting it behind them again. He dropped her, and she fell to the floor, her cheek and knees slamming against the rug.

  Immediately she lifted her head, her heart thumping and nausea threatening to overwhelm her. She peered up the hallway, her eyes wide and gritty as she searched for any sign of Ryker’s body. Garrett said he’d hit Ryker just as he’d stepped out of the house, and then had dragged his body into the entrance hall, so wouldn’t he be here? Or had Garrett taken the time to stash the body somewhere and had failed to mention it during his recounting of the story?

  But from the way Garrett stood looking around, with one hand on top of his head and a frown on his face, she thought perhaps he didn’t know either.

  A surge of joy bubbled up inside her. Could it be true? Was Ryker still alive, and not only alive, but well enough to move from the hallway? At that moment, she didn’t care about her own safety. She hoped Ryker had managed to get the hell away from here and would stay away until Garrett had finished with her. She didn’t want there to be any chance of him being killed.

  Her happiness at Ryker being alive filled her, and to her surprise, laughter swelled inside her and burst from her throat. The sound was muffled and choked by the dirty rag, but it didn’t stop her laughing. Not only was Ryker alive, but he’d left Garrett confused and annoyed, and in that moment nothing could beat it.

  Garrett glared down at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

  But she couldn’t stop the laughter. It consumed her, held her in its grip until her whole body shook and tears spilled down her face.

  “What is it?” he demanded. “What the fuck do you think you’re laughing at?”

  But she couldn’t answer him even if she wanted to; she still had a cloth stuffed in her mouth. For some reason, that made her laugh even harder, and she clamped her thighs together, suddenly frightened she’d wet herself.

  “Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed, and leaned down to yank the cloth from her mouth. The material had glued to her tongue and the inside of her mouth, and it felt like he’d take a layer of skin off as he’d pulled out the rag, leaving her oral cavity red raw. The pain couldn’t dampen the relief she felt at not only knowing Ryker was alive, but having the rag removed as well. Finally, she could breathe through her mouth again, and she didn’t have that dirty thing pressed against her tongue.

  “There. Now tell me what the hell you’re laughing at.”

  She sniffed and blinked back the tears of laughter and pain. “I knew you wouldn’t have killed Ryker. I bet you didn’t even touch him.”

  “I told you I did!”

  “Yeah? Then where is he?”

  He gestured to the floor not far from where she knelt. “He was right here.”

  She smirked. “I don’t believe you.”

  Garrett glared down at her, his body tensed, and she braced herself for another slap or punch, or maybe even a kick this time, but nothing came. His line of gaze had shifted away from her and onto the floor about a foot from her head.

  “There!” He bent to the spot he’d been looking at, and reached out to touch his fingers to the rug. He lifted them back up and she saw they were stained with red. Her stomach dropped. So Garrett had hit Ryker, and hurt him too. “I told you I’d hit the fucker. Maybe he wasn’t dead, but he’s sure hurt bad enough. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

  Garrett reached down and grabbed her by the upper arm again, dragging her along as he followed the trail of blood which led down the hallway. Her shoulder and arm screamed in pain, but she ignored it, more concerned with where Ryker might be.

  He reached the living room door, lifted his foot and delivered a swift kick to the wood. The door slammed open with a bang, hitting the wall behind. “Yoo-hoo,” Garrett called in a fake female voice. “Where are you, honey? I’ve got someone here to see you.”

  He let go of her arm in the doorway. She’d been pulled into the lounge enough to see that Ryker wasn’t lying in the middle of the room, or anywhere visible for that matter. Her gaze scoured the floor, trying to spot any more dark patches, droplets of blood that would lead a trail directly to wherever Ryker was hiding. But she couldn’t see anything in here. Either that meant he wasn’t bleeding badly enough to continue to leave traces—which she doubted considering the amount of blood in the hall—or else he hadn’t come this way.

  Garrett stalked around, checking behind the couch and easy chair, behind the drapes, and even behind the television, as if Ryker could have somehow secreted himself behind the flat screen.

  “Where are you, you son of a bitch?” he hissed beneath his breath.

  He walked out, pausing only long enough to grab Jenna again and drag her along with him. She bumped against the doorframe, pain shooting through her hip. Her t-shirt rode up, causing friction burns against her stomach. He dragged her into the kitchen, but again, Ryker was nowhere to be seen.

  Worry bubbled up inside her. Where was he? Had he gotten out of here and gone for help? If so, why weren’t the cops here? Surely Ryker would figure out who had hit him, and would know that Garrett would be searching for her? A horrible thought settled upon her. What if Ryker had gone to the garage looking for her? He would have found Sam’s body and probably called the police to the garage. They could all be there now, assuming Garrett had already grabbed her and taken her far away from Arlington, when in fact they were right here, back at the house.

  She tried not to let the thought settle like a black dog on her back. If Ryker was well away from the house, it meant he was safe, and that’s what mattered.

  She lay on the cold floor while Garrett paced around the kitchen. He spotted something and pointed.

  “There!”

  Jenna followed the line of his finger. Her heart sank. Another couple of droplets of blood were smeared across the tiled floor. Ryker might not be in the kitchen, but he�
�d definitely passed through this way.

  Garrett grabbed her again and continued to drag her through the house. He pulled her through the smear of Ryker’s blood, so she knew his blood was now on her clothing. The thought made her want to cry. Garrett checked the downstairs bathroom first, making sure that room, too, was empty. Jenna scoured the small space, but caught no sign of blood on the floor or in the basin.

  Finally, he hauled her into the laundry room, entering first to pull her along behind him.

  He stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  There, propped up against the far wall, was Ryker. Blood was smeared down his face, thick in his already dark hairline. His skin looked pale, and his eyelids flickered as if he was barely conscious, but had sensed someone was in the room with him.

  “There you are, you fucker,” Garrett said. “Now I get to finish the job I started.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “No! Wait!”

  Garrett gave an exasperated sigh at her panicked cry, and glanced down at her with his eyebrows lifted. “What is it?”

  Her mind whirred, desperately trying to think of something that would stop him killing Ryker. Her mind took her to a dark place. “You said you wanted to take me on his bed, with his body propped in the corner. Isn’t it even better now you know he’s alive? You want to hurt us, right? What could possibly be more painful than making him watch?”

  Her stomach churned, nauseated at the idea, but she’d suggested the first thing that had come to mind that would stop Garrett killing Ryker there and then.

  Garrett stared down at her, and a slow smile spread across his face. He pointed his finger at her. “You know what, Jenna? I always knew you weren’t that different from me, really. I always had a feeling you had something dark about you.”

  His words made her shiver, but a spark of hope made her think he might have bought her plan. Time. That was all she was playing for now. Just more time.

  “Of course,” he continued with a sickening smile. “I could just throw a bucket of cold water over him right here, and have you on the floor.”

  She shrugged and did her best to appear nonchalant. “You could, but it doesn’t quite make the same statement.” Her eyes narrowed and she forced a small smile to her face. “You know, he fucked me so many times in that bed, and God, he was good. We made that headboard bang in a way I don’t think you’re even capable of, Garrett.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “From what I remember, you were always over way too quickly. Ryker can stay hard for hours.”

  He glared at her. “Shut the fuck up, Jenna!”

  “Well, what’s it going to be?” she pushed. “A quickie on the hard floor, or actually taking your time about things for once and moving us up to the bedroom?”

  She didn’t know where all her bravado had come from. She was terrified, knowing her words might earn her a punch or a kick, but she was far more frightened of Garrett suddenly turning around and caving Ryker’s head in. She tried to study Garrett’s face for any change in his expression at her words, but he remained tense and glaring at her.

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do, you fat bitch,” he spat.

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I only made a suggestion, that’s all. This floor is cold and I don’t want to be lying on it any longer than I have to be.”

  He leaned down to her, putting his face in hers. She could make out the dark globs of crusted blood in his nostrils from where she’d head-butted him, and beneath his eyes were already turning a dark blue-purple. Though the dried blood turned her stomach, she took some satisfaction that she’d at least managed to hurt him.

  “Lying on a cold floor is going to be the least of your worries.”

  She glanced away and stayed quiet, letting him make his own decision. She prayed he’d make the right one. Getting them both upstairs would take time, hopefully long enough for Ryker to regain consciousness and save them both.

  Garrett straightened and sighed again, his mouth twisted in indecision. Finally, he spoke. “Right. I’m going to check upstairs and find out where the bedroom is. I don’t want you pulling any tricks on me. You wait for me here, and don’t try anything!”

  “My arms and legs are bound together. What the hell am I going to try?”

  He gave her a slight shake of his head before turning around and leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Jenna waited long enough to hear his footsteps thumping up the stairs, and then she got moving. She wriggled across the floor like a caterpillar toward Ryker. The movement was hard, and quickly left her panting from the effort. Her heart tripped its beat, her pulse thumping. Her face still pounded from where Garrett had hit her, but she did her best to ignore any discomfort. She focused only on getting to Ryker.

  She edged closer to where Ryker sat, his feet stuck out in front of him, his shoulders slouched, his chin on his chest. The amount of blood in his hairline worried her, but his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. She kept her ears strained for the sound of feet approaching, and then used the wall Ryker was propped up against as support to push herself up to sitting.

  “Ryker,” she said, low and urgent. “Ryker, baby, it’s Jenna. You have to wake up.”

  His eyelids fluttered, and she used her shoulder to shove his. His head rocked and then fell forward again, and she felt sick at the sight of more blood dribbling from his hairline and down into his eyes. But his eyes opened and he lifted a hand to dazedly wipe the blood away.

  Her heart soared, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “Oh, God, Ryker, it’s me. Can you hear me? He’s going to be back any minute.”

  He turned his head in her direction, his brow furrowed. Though he looked at her, he didn’t quite make eye contact.

  He’s concussed, she thought. Badly, too.

  “Jenna,” he managed, his voice a croak. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

  She shook her head. “Hey, there’s no time for that now. He’s here. Can you walk?”

  He shook his head and winced. “I don’t know. I’m real dizzy.”

  “Listen to me. Pretend you haven’t woken up yet, okay? Don’t let him know. He’s going to take us upstairs, but don’t do anything until you know we have some kind of advantage, and we can take him out. It’s our only chance.”

  “Why is he taking us upstairs?”

  She heard footsteps thumping down the hallway.

  “Shh. He’s coming back. Just keep your eyes shut!”

  With that, she threw herself away from him, trying to land in the same position she’d been in when Garrett had left the room. She jarred her shoulder, pain making her bite her lip to stop herself from crying out. Quickly, she glanced back over at Ryker. His eyes had slipped shut again.

  Was he pretending, or had he fallen unconscious again?

  The laundry room door cracked open again, making Jenna jump. Garrett’s figure appeared in the doorway, and she felt herself shrivel with revulsion. What would she do if he actually did rape her? She’d never be the same person again, assuming she lived through the ordeal.

  No, don’t think about it, she ordered herself. Focus on figuring out a way to get out of this mess.

  Garrett crossed the room to stand above Ryker. He stuck out his foot and shoved Ryker in the leg. Jenna held her breath in anticipation, but Ryker didn’t respond.

  Garrett leaned down and grabbed Ryker by the top of the arm, intending, Jenna assumed, to lift him in the same fireman’s lift he’d used to carry her out of the garage, but as he tried to straighten, he grunted and swore.

  “Fuck!”

  Jenna repressed a smile. Garrett was tall and wiry, but he was nowhere near strong enough to carry someone with Ryker’s muscular physique.

  He turned to her. “You’re going to have to help me.”

  She glanced down at her bound hands and feet. “Seriously?”

  His eyes narrowed again and then he turned and walked from the room. Jenna glanced an
xiously at Ryker, trying to tell if he was conscious or not. She didn’t know what Garrett was doing, and didn’t dare say anything in case this was a trick, and he was listening in. But she heard him moving about in the kitchen, and then his heavy footfalls passed along the hallway, moving from one end of the house to the other.

  What the hell was he doing?

  She glanced back at Ryker, and opened her mouth to hiss his name, but the door opened again and she clamped her mouth shut. Garrett stood holding a knife he must have taken from the kitchen, the silver, shiny blade at least six inches long.

  She froze. Oh shit.

  He crouched down to her, the knife pointed toward her. Jenna’s heart rate stepped up a notch, her breathing increasing to match it. She shook her head. “Don’t do it. I’ll behave, I promise.”

  “Yes, you will. I’ve just locked both the front door and back, and I have the keys on me, so no one is getting in or out of this place, got it?”

  And he reached down and slid the blade between her wrists and cut open the tape that had been binding them. Jenna let out a gasp of relief, and rubbed at her sore wrists, wriggling her fingers to get the feeling back into them. Garrett repeated the process with her feet and she was finally able to circle her stiff ankles.

  He pointed the knife at her. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll stick this straight between your ribs, got it?”

  She nodded obediently.

  “Good.” He jerked his chin over at Ryker. “You’ve got to help me move him.”

  Realization set in. Garrett wasn’t freeing her out of the goodness of his heart, he just needed help moving Ryker.

  Jenna got to her feet, testing her balance and making sure everything still worked as it should. Her head ached, and her muscles were sore from being in the same position for so long, but otherwise she was unharmed. She wished she could say the same for Ryker.

  “Come on then,” Garrett said. “Time’s a-ticking.”

  They crouched, one each side of his body, and slung one of Ryker’s arm over each of their shoulders.