Not Quite Broken: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  “I don’t suppose there’s a motel or something around here?”

  “Nope. I got a cot in the back, though. You’re welcome to it.”

  Tori had withheld a shiver, imagining what kind of shape the cot was in. She didn’t mind roughing it, but she had her limits. “I think I’ll just curl up in my Jeep, if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself. Might want to put something cold on that bump, though. I got some sodas in the fridge.”

  “Soda sounds good, thanks.”

  He had waved his arm toward the door connecting the office to the bay in an “after you” gesture. She’d just passed through the doorway when a strong arm wrapped around her torso and she felt a sharp pinch in her neck.

  She had cried out and tried to struggle, but he’d held her tight. Numbness had spread quickly, affecting her arms and legs and her ability to move. Then everything had gone black...

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brian felt emotionally drained when he left his parents’ house, but a lot lighter, too. There were plenty of tears from his mom and sisters; even his father misted up at one point. No waterworks from Shane, but his brother-in-law had nodded in approval and quietly told Brian that he had a whole clan watching his six, he just hadn’t known it.

  He hoped things with Tori would go as well. He had a box of apple turnovers on the seat beside him, and a quick stop at the florist netted a small, potted flowering plant that reminded him of some of the wildflowers they’d seen on one of their hikes. Hopefully, it would remind her of some happy memories, too, and make her more receptive to the genuine apology he had planned.

  It seemed like a good plan. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to find out if it would have worked because Tori wasn’t home.

  Had she gone away like she’d said? Or was she just out for the afternoon, enjoying the beautiful weather? It hurt to think of her out there somewhere, experiencing something new without him there to enjoy it with her. She took such pleasure in the simplest of things. Her eyes lit up at the sight of two squirrels chasing each other in the forest. A flower growing between rocks. A beautiful sunset. She was fascinated by obscure legends and local trivia. In her own quiet way, she’d brought color back into his stark black and white world. He wanted more of that.

  He pulled out his phone and typed a text to her: Can we talk?

  His thumb hovered over the send button before he added, Please.

  He waited in his Jeep for several minutes for a reply, but none came. It had been a longshot. If Tori was out exploring, it might be a while before she answered. If she answered. And if she didn’t, well, he’d just have to keep trying and hope it wasn’t too late.

  In the meantime, he went back to the Pub, hoping to kill some time. He typically worked Sunday afternoons anyway; the Callaghans tended to gather together there and appreciated his help covering the bar while they did their family thing upstairs. This weekend was an exception; they’d be having their “clan time” at Maggie’s on Monday instead, giving him a rare Sunday afternoon off. It was a shame he couldn’t make better use of it, but without Tori around, there wasn’t much he wanted to do.

  “What are you doing here?” Ian said by way of greeting when he walked in.

  “Good to see you too.”

  “Nothing better to do?”

  “Not really. I went over to see Tori, but she’s not there.”

  “So... you decided to get your head out of your ass and take my advice, huh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Ian grinned. “I’m just fucking with you. Shane and Lacie came by earlier.”

  “News travels fast.”

  “Hey, you’re family, man. No secrets among brothers. Now the real challenge begins: wooing your woman.”

  Brian wasn’t used to sharing information, especially not personal things, so he was uncomfortable about Shane providing a recap and Ian’s impending and unsolicited advice. Then he realized Ian was right. He was being treated like a brother, not like a guy who just happened to work at the bar and was tolerated only because he was Shane’s brother-in-law. He couldn’t take offense to that, though it would take some getting used to.

  “I suppose you’ve got more sage advice to impart.”

  “Damn straight,” Ian grinned, “but it all boils down to one thing.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “You have to convince her that you are the only one for her, by any means necessary. That her life is shit without you in it front and center.”

  “God help us. Ian’s giving his ‘her life is shit without you’ speech again,” Jake moaned, appearing from the private area, followed closely by Sean and Kieran.

  “He’s taking credit for that?” Sean scoffed. “That’s mine.”

  “No,” Kieran disagreed, “Your speech was ‘your life is shit without her’, not ‘her life is shit without you’.”

  “Same difference.”

  “Not even close. Aw, fuck. Jake, turn that up.”

  The easy, teasing banter faded as they all turned to the television and the special report interrupting the ball game.

  “Local fishermen made the grisly discovery this morning,” the reporter said somberly. “The body of Sherri Lynn Thomas, the Birch Falls woman reported missing several weeks ago, was found along the banks of the river shortly after dawn. Sources say it’s difficult to pinpoint an exact time or cause of death, but all indications are that she is the fourth victim of the Lonely Hearts serial killer that has been terrorizing local communities and flummoxing authorities. It is also unlikely that this latest victim will aid police in the investigation because the body shows signs of being in the water for some time...”

  “Jesus,” Sean cursed. “We have to do something about this. You know that, right?”

  “Already on it,” Jake said quietly. Brian was surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. This was their home, and the Callaghans weren’t the type of men to sit idly by when this sort of thing was happening right in their backyard. “Nicki’s been using her contacts in the PRPD to feed her inside info. But this guy, he’s slick.”

  Ian nodded. “He’s very selective about his victims.”

  “Got a type, then, does he?”

  “Sort of. He targets twenty- and thirty-somethings, usually brunettes. But he doesn’t seem to be as concerned with physical appearance as he is with lifestyle.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, he only picks women who won’t be easily missed. Those who live alone, no close family or friends, and keep mostly to themselves.”

  A chill ran the length of Brian’s spine. “Like Tori...” he muttered aloud.

  Several pairs of blue eyes turned his way. “Tori Donovan?” Kieran asked, frowning. “I thought you two were seeing each other.”

  Clearly Kieran had arrived late to the party and hadn’t received Shane’s update. “We were, but then things got complicated.”

  “Complicated.” Kieran’s frown deepened.

  “Yeah, I fucked up. The point is, she’s not answering my texts, and when I stopped by her place earlier, she wasn’t there.”

  “Maybe she’s just ignoring you.”

  God, he hoped so, but he worried it was something more than that. “Ian, did you ever run that plate I sent you?”

  “What plate?” Jake wanted to know. Brian explained about the guy who’d suspiciously planted himself next to Tori’s Jeep.

  “Yeah, nothing came up,” Ian said. “Slipped the info to the local police, too. They know of him. Say he’s a little strange but essentially harmless.”

  Essentially harmless, but still creepy enough for Tori’s self-preservation instincts to kick in. Brian reminded himself that Tori was cautious and aware, as well as self-reliant, intelligent, and athletic. She wouldn’t be easy prey. Remembering that should have made him feel better and eased some his worry. It didn’t.

  Ian looked at Brian. “Didn’t Tori say something about going up to the Pennsylvania G
rand Canyon the other night?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if she did.”

  “Easy enough to find out.”

  “How?”

  “I can run her credit cards, scan her phone usage, see what pops up.”

  “Isn’t that a violation of privacy?”

  Ian shrugged. “Privacy is an illusion. The more important question is, what’s your gut telling you?”

  Brian’s gut was telling him that something was wrong. The feeling had been growing steadily all day. Best case scenario, Tori was pissed and blowing him off but safe. Worst case... well, he didn’t want to think about the worst case.

  “Do it,” Brian said.

  “I will. In the meantime, here.” Ian slid a small business card over to him. Brian picked it up and looked at the single word: Sanctuary.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tori searched the room, looking for anything she might have missed. She found an empty bucket beneath the far side of the bed that she hadn’t seen earlier.

  “Oh, hell, no,” she said on an exhale when she realized what it was probably there for, right about the same time she recognized the pressure in her lower abdomen. Tori held out for as long as she could, but eventually the call of nature became too strong and it was either wet her pants or use the bucket.

  She used the bucket.

  Hours passed by slowly. Tori sat on the bed, nibbling crackers and sipping water, trying to regain her strength and make sense of things. She didn’t like the answers she kept coming up with. She couldn’t think of a single good reason a man would drug her and keep her in a locked room.

  Occasionally she’d get up and walk around the small space to get her blood flowing and prevent stiffness in her joints and muscles. Each time she did, she felt a little stronger, a little steadier. If an opportunity to escape presented itself, she wanted to be ready.

  The night wore on and eventually the darkness outside lessened. Light was streaming through the high window when she heard a key in the lock. She got to her feet, far more alert than she had been the last time he’d visited.

  He looked at her, then the empty tray. “Good,” he said simply.

  “Good?!” she echoed in disbelief. “Since when is drugging someone and locking them up a good thing?”

  His lips thinned, but he didn’t answer her question.

  “Why?” she persisted. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Bathroom’s this way. You’ll feel better after you wash up.”

  “Feel better? Are you kidding? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He crossed the room in two long strides and glared down at her menacingly. It was an effort not to shrink away, but she stood tall and squared her shoulders.

  “You will do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it.”

  “Or what?” she challenged.

  His hand shot out so fast, she barely saw it coming. One minute she was on her feet, the next she was on the floor with a fiery pain encompassing the entire left side of her face.

  “Or you won’t like the consequences.”

  She looked up just in time to see the door closing behind him. “Hey! Come back here! What the ever-loving hell!”

  She pulled herself to standing and lunged for the door, but it was too late. It was locked, and he was gone. Again. She continued to yell and pound until her voice was hoarse and her fist was sore. Was this a punishment for questioning him? Did he think she could be cowed with a heavy hand and a time-out?

  If so, then he had underestimated her. She’d experienced far worse at the hands of others with less self-control than he appeared to have, and was intimately familiar with irrational behavior and drastic mood swings that could be triggered by far less provoking words or actions than she’d used.

  That was the real reason she had become so adept at reading people, of being able to sense what was brewing beneath a deceptively calm surface.

  Apparently, those particular skills were rusty. The last couple years of dealing with normal, functioning, mentally-competent people had made her complacent. She hadn’t sensed a single red flag with “Joe”, nor had she seen the powerful backhand coming before it was too late. She should have, though.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Hours passed. The water and crackers were long gone. The room grew brighter, then dimmer again before he returned. He seemed just as calm, just as collected as he had earlier. This time, however, she noted the dilation and constriction of his pupils. The slight flaring of his nostrils. The casual but alert stance as he stopped just inside the door.

  “Are you ready to listen?” he asked.

  She was ready to do some damage and get the hell out of there, that was what she was ready to do, but she had to be smart. She’d used her time alone wisely, recalling the lessons she’d learned over the years.

  “Flight is better than fight, especially if your opponent is bigger and stronger than you.”

  He was definitely bigger and stronger, but he was also doing a pretty good job of blocking the only exit. If she could disable him temporarily, she might be able to get by and then run like hell.

  “Power comes from the hips.”

  Tori stood slowly, keeping her head slightly bowed as she shuffled forward, trying to look as meek as possible.

  “Knee strikes are rarely effective. Use your shins.”

  When she was close enough, she suddenly leaned back, distributing her weight into a power stance. She brought her other leg forward in a swift and brutal upward thrust, right between his legs. His eyes went wide right before she made contact and he tried to pivot sideways, but he couldn’t completely avoid impact. He exhaled heavily, his torso moving forward as he crumpled in on himself.

  “Control the head, the body will follow.”

  She wrapped her arms around his head and twisted sharply, using his forward momentum and her body weight against him to make enough room for her to get past. He went down on one knee; she juked around him. She was almost through the door when he reached out and clasped a hand around her ankle. Tori stumbled, grabbing at the doorframe to pull herself out of his grasp, but his grip was like iron. Her body moved, but her ankle did not. A sharp, stabbing ache was followed by a fresh wave of pain. Tori howled and went down.

  “That wasn’t very smart.”

  It wasn’t her captor’s voice that had spoken, but that of one much younger. Tori looked up into the face of a boy, maybe seven or eight years old, and gasped. Half of his face was smooth and perfect; the other half was grossly disfigured. The boy stared at her with his one good eye, a clear, guileless blue, as if she was some sort of curiosity.

  “I told you not to come down here,” Joe wheezed sternly from behind her.

  “I wanted to see her.”

  “Go back upstairs.”

  “She’s hurt.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Go on now.”

  The boy frowned but did as he was told. He turned and shuffled away, dragging one leg in a lame, loping gait. Tori saw a possible chance of help going with him.

  “Wait! Help me! Call the police! Dial 9-1-1!”

  Joe yanked her back into the room, causing another nauseating wave of pain. Tori couldn’t help it. Bile rose up in her throat and she vomited the meager contents of her stomach.

  The next thing she knew, she was being tossed over Joe’s shoulder and carried into another room, where he dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor of a shower stall. She screeched as ice cold water hit her body, then curled in on herself to make a smaller target.

  “Why are you doing this?” she cried.

  He tossed a bar of soap at her and adjusted the water so it was warmer. “Wash.”

  When she continued to glare at him, he added darkly, “Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

  Tori bit back the ‘fuck you’ poised on her lips. He was angry, but still in control. She wasn’t anxious for that to change. Keeping herself alive and avoiding further injury took precedence over her pride.


  “I’ll – I’ll do it,” she said through clenched, chattering teeth.

  He grunted and stepped back, shoving the shower curtain closed as he did. He appeared to limp slightly, which she took some satisfaction in.

  “You’ve got five minutes. I’ll be right outside, so don’t try anything else stupid.”

  At the sound of a door closing, Tori peeked out and saw he’d left her alone in the bathroom. Her overnight bag was in the corner, just as he’d said. She reached out and grabbed for it, pawing through the contents, but her phone wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t. Why would he go through the trouble of abducting her and locking her up only to provide a means of calling for help?

  Her undergarments were still there, but her jeans, shorts, and tees had been replaced with a simple cotton dress. What the hell?

  “Three minutes.”

  Tori had no doubt he’d make good on his threat. She scrambled to comply, peeling herself out of her wet, vomit-splattered clothes and running the bar of soap over her skin and face. She tried – and failed – to ignore the pain in her ankle. Working quickly, she managed to wash off the worst of it, then turned off the water and grabbed the towel from the rack.

  “One minute.”

  “Please! I’m trying! I need another minute!”

  She dried herself off the best she could and pulled on clean underwear and a bra, not an easy thing to do with her skin still wet and being unable to put any weight on her leg. With no better option, she gritted her teeth and pulled the formless dress over her head.

  “Time’s up.”

  The door opened just as she pushed one arm through a sleeve and tugged the hem over her hips. One arm remained inside the dress, but at least she was covered. He looked her over as she finished. She noticed he’d changed his shirt as well.

  “Now brush your teeth, and your hair.”

  She complied, acutely aware of his broad shoulders filling the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. Brute force wasn’t an option. Escape wasn’t looking good, either. She looked around for anything she might fashion into a weapon and came up empty. If there was a mirror, perhaps she could have broken it and used the shards, but the utilitarian bathroom was just as sparse as the room she’d woken up in. Maybe MacGyver could have made something out of a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, and a shower curtain on the fly, but she was at a loss.