by Trina Lane
Javier’s cheek exploded and the muscles in his neck strained with the force of Vincent’s punch.
“Clearly, I have a lot more work ahead of me to make you see the error of your ways. Let’s start with a taste of air deprivation.”
Javier fell to the floor when Vincent released his chains. Thrashing around, he tried to avoid the hood over his head, but blackness descended with force. Random debris spiked into his flesh as he was dragged across the floor and lifted up onto a hard table. Dizziness swamped him from the steep angle downward. His manacles were secured to the table, as were his feet. Vincent’s soft whistle echoed in his ears through the sound of Javier’s screams. A weight settled on his face then water cascaded up his nose. He tried to hold his breath, but eventually his body overrode the determination of his brain. He tried to time the phase of the water to suck in a gulp of air. But it wasn’t the salvation he hoped. Instead it felt as if a giant wet paw clamped down on his face. Panic invaded as he could no longer tell if he was breathing in or out. Nausea swelled and his ears rang.
“No!” Javier screamed as he jerked up.
Lights flashed and his door was thrown open. Javier threw himself off the side of the bed.
“Oh, fuck!” Brandon shouted.
He curled into a little ball and dragged in as much air as possible.
“Javier, stop. You’re okay. You’re going to hyperventilate. Take a slow breath in and let it out. That’s it. Good. He’s gone. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
His brain finally registered that he did have enough air to survive, it was Brandon’s voice in his ears not Vincent’s, and he was in the bedroom of their rental, not a torture chamber that would have made Torquemada proud.
He’d dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.
“I killed him,” he whispered.
“Yes, you did.”
Javier looked up at Brandon. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Shut up. Was this the first nightmare you’ve had?”
He nodded.
“Probably because it’s the first time you’ve had a night where someone hasn’t come in to measure you, poke you, change your IV bag and whatever else they did to disturb your sleep.”
“I guess it’s to be expected. Keith suggested it wouldn’t be a bad idea to see some kind of trauma counselor, but I don’t really want to sit down with a stranger and relive the last months over and over again.”
“You know I’m here for you, but the only thing I know about survivor mentality is from TV and movies. So unless you want my professional skills gained through the University of The Deer Hunter, then contacting somebody who actually knows what the hell they’re doing might not be a bad idea.”
A lightness replaced the inky-dark terror that had pervaded his senses when he awoke. Brandon always found some way to get him out of his head.
“I’ll see how things are when we get home. I promise I’ll get help if I start getting ideas about the appeal of Russian roulette.”
Brandon gripped Javier’s shoulder and stared him in the eyes. “You’d better.”
“I’m good. I promise.”
“Okay. Let’s get some sleep. You, uh…you want me to leave a light on or something?”
It probably wouldn’t make any difference. Javier figured either he would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling all night or find himself immersed in another horror drawn forth by his subconscious. But what the hell
“Sure, thanks.”
Brandon helped him back up onto the bed. His knee throbbed, but he didn’t think he’d undone the surgeon’s repair work by throwing himself onto the floor. The glowing numbers of the clock had indicated that enough time had passed that he could take another pain pill, but he didn’t want to risk that the opioid had been the trigger for his dream.
“See you in the morning.” Brandon left the room.
“Good night.”
Chapter Four
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Alde.”
Javier nodded to Detective Kirner as he made his way on his crutches over to the table. Three weeks after his release from the hospital and he’d finally gotten pretty proficient with the things. He lowered himself into the chair on the opposite side of the table from the detective.
“My client is only too happy to get this ordeal behind him and move on with his life.”
Javier almost smirked at the tone of his attorney Wilhelm Logan’s voice. The man had been invaluable over the last several weeks, running interference with the police while Javier was in the hospital and in the days immediately after. He’d really been in no place to make any kind of legal decisions that were going to affect the rest of his life.
“Where’s Detective Berberidis?” he asked.
“He’ll be joining us in a minute, along with the prosecuting attorney. You look like you’re moving around better than the last time we spoke.”
“I’m getting there. Ribs are just about better and I start physical therapy next week for the knee.”
He was really hoping he would be able to do that back in Dallas. Unless, of course, he was going to jail—then he really hoped to be able to get the therapy at all and not end up with a permanent impairment.
“I remember having to do shoulder rehab after a torn rotator cuff a couple of years ago. Some days I would have sworn a baby had more strength than me.”
Javier nodded. “My patients always hated the internal rotation exercises the worst after RCT injuries.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting that you’re a physical therapist.”
“Mmhm. Or I was.”
“You will be again.”
“Will I? Because based on the information my attorney and I have been provided during the course of your investigation, my future is very uncertain.”
The door to the interrogation room opened and Berberidis stepped in, along with another man. Both made eye contact with Javier, but neither said anything. Berberidis’ face was his usual mask of constipation. The other man carried a file folder. It seemed thinner than Javier would have thought, assuming it had the investigation information.
“Mr. Alde, I’m Peter Masters, the DA of Lubbock County. I’m here to inform you, after reviewing the evidence collected and taking into consideration the circumstances, the State of Texas has decided not to prosecute you for the murder of Luca Pesano, AKA Vincent Finch.”
Javier’s chest expanded with the first free breath he’d taken since entering the room. It was over. The knowledge that he’d be living with having taken a life had only just taken root in his soul, but at least he didn’t have to face being confined to another cell.
“I’m glad to hear you made the right decision, Pete. While my client certainly regrets the death of another man, he clearly had no other option in order to secure his freedom and safety. Mr. Alde will never say the words, but he is, in fact, a hero.”
Berberidis grunted, Kirner frowned and Masters appeared to be holding back an eye roll. The door opened and a woman in a black suit entered. Javier had never seen her before, but she carried herself with authority. If he were a paranoid type of person, he’d say she screamed Fed.
“My name is Special Agent Sana Yang with the FBI.”
Well, shit.
“Mr. Alde, you’ve stated that during your captivity, Pesano talked about eradicating the members of the BDSM community one by one. Did he at any time indicate that he’d already been successful in his quest?”
“Why?”
“Just answer the question,” Berberidis said.
Wilhelm placed his hand on Javier’s arm. “This is a new line of questioning, and I need clarification of your intent. How do Mr. Pesano’s possible prior activities affect my client or his newly secured freedom?”
“I have no interest in Mr. Alde’s person. The state has chosen not to prosecute and no act he performed defers to the federal level. I am, however, interested in what he knows,” Agent Yang stated.
“Is that on record?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“You can ask. I won’t guarantee you an answer.”
“Well, you’re FBI. So that means crimes would have to cross multiple states. I’m from Dallas, so do you know of others like me or are you looking for patterns based on rumors?”
“There are no others like you, Mr. Alde.”
“Well, then, not to sound cold-hearted, but why do you care at this point? It’s not like you can prosecute him.”
Agent Yang opened her folder and set a photo down on the table. Then set down five others that were similar but from different angles. The scar from Javier’s brand started to burn all over again. He swore the smell of searing flesh hung in the air.
“I don’t need to see the photos. All I have to do is look in the mirror to see what that monster did to me.”
Agent Yang slid one of the photos closer to him. “This is you. The others were found on bodies that had been dumped.”
“I’m going to be sick.” Javier pushed back his chair, Detective Kirner ran over with a trashcan and Javier’s stomach quickly evacuated his lunch. When he was able to stop the spasms, every muscle in his body hurt and he felt every single scar that resided on his flesh.
“We know of five other victims. What I’m trying to learn from you is if there are any we don’t know about. You’re right. We can’t prosecute him, but maybe I can find another son or daughter whose family deserves to know what happened to them. Since you’re the only person to survive Pesano’s attentions, I was hoping you might be able to provide some kind of information that can tell us if this is over or I need to keep searching.”
He took a sip of the water that Detective Kirner held out for him. The water in the cup splashed with the tremors in his hand when he moved to set the cup on the table.
“If you knew who he was this whole time, why didn’t you stop him? If you knew what he’d done, why wasn’t he already behind bars? Why was he able to get to me?” His voice rose till the scream echoed off the concrete walls of the interrogation room.
“Because we failed!” Agent Yang shouted back. “Because I failed. I’ve been working this case for the past three years. But even using the best profilers in the FBI, we had nothing on the identity of the man who did this. Now that we have a name, I want insight into the way his brain worked. I want to know what wire got jogged lose that triggered his homicidal desires, but specifically made him target persons of alternative lifestyles.”
He wanted to know those answers too.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help. It took everything I had just to survive.”
“On the contrary. Before your escape all we had were bodies, but no suspects. There was no physical evidence to link an individual to the crimes and none of the victims’ family or friends had any idea who they might have been playing with. All we had was a pattern. At least now I can go back to those people and say ‘I’m sorry I can’t bring back your loved one, but I can tell you nobody else will suffer the way they did.’ Not by this man.”
“Just try, Javier,” Kirner said.
He searched his memory bank. For so much of his time with Vincent—he just couldn’t think of him as Luca—he’d been so focused on surviving and maintaining his mental shields that he’d let much of what the man said go in one ear and out of the other. However, he’d been so desperate to understand Vincent’s motives that some things had definitely solidified themselves in his mind.
“He talked about walking through the Presidio and visiting Ellis Island. He mentioned hiking in the Rockies, but I don’t know where.”
“How come you never mentioned this during our investigation?” Berberidis asked.
“You never asked. Besides, how was I supposed to understand what he was blabbing about was relevant? For all I knew, he was talking about his fucking favorite vacation spots. Besides, I would have told you had you cared about anything more than—”
“Do you believe he targeted you because you’re a Dom?” Agent Yang interrupted.
He took a deep breath and let it out. He really disliked Berberidis, and clearly the feeling was mutual. At least after today he wouldn’t have to talk to him again.
“No, I don’t think he would have cared if I was a Dominant or submissive.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well it was more in his language. It was never ‘you Doms need to pay.’ It was always ‘all you perverts’.
“I’m inclined to agree. Of these five people, three were submissives and two were Dominants, according to their club members.”
“So you really don’t know anything else?”
Agent Yang shook her head. “Now that we have an identity and an outcome, the Bureau isn’t interested in pursuing any other investigation. Federal resources and all. I came here on my own dime. But I’m not ready to let Mr. Pesano go. If I have questions in the future, can I contact you?”
He guessed this was a lesson that reality was not like some movie where the entire plot was wrapped up with a pretty little bow, and the villains laid out their entire manifesto in a monologue with dramatic lighting. It sucked.
“I guess.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Alde. I wish you the best of luck,” Agent Yang said.
“Thank you.”
Wilhelm stood, as did Detective Kirner.
“Are we done?” Wilhelm asked.
“Yes. You are officially free to go, Mr. Alde,” Kirner responded.
He stood and grabbed his crutches. Berberidis didn’t say anything or acknowledge Javier in any way. He followed Yang, Kirner and his attorney out of the room and looked around for Brandon. His friend had been the best over the last several weeks, but Javier knew he was eager to get home to Tyler, even if Brandon wouldn’t admit it. Javier found him in a row of chairs, eyes glued to his phone.
“Hey,” he said.
Brandon looked up and smiled. “Well, you’re not in cuffs.”
“Would be a little hard with the whole crutches thing.”
“They could get you a wheelchair.”
Kirner scoffed. “Please, this is Lubbock. We don’t have the budget for actual wheelchairs. We’d probably just stick him in a desk chair, duct tape him to the seat and shove him across the room.”
“Sweet! I love a good desk chair race. He’s gimpy, so I bet we could take him.”
“Wouldn’t I get a head start for the disadvantage?”
“No.”
Kirner smiled. “Harsh.”
Javier shook his head. “You have no idea. So, I can really go home?”
Kirner nodded. “Look, I know Pesano royally fucked up your life, so if you need any help getting back on your feet, let me know. I have a few contacts in Dallas who might be able to help.”
“Thanks. We contacted the health and human services people. They have a program to provide short-term emergency financial assistance for disabled indigents to pay for stuff like rent, utilities, transportation and food. I never really thought of myself as disabled or indigent, but I guess I am.”
Brandon put his hand on Javier’s shoulder. “Only for now. You know you’re welcome to stay with Tyler and me.”
“I do. But Graham doesn’t offer the same options for rehab facilities. Besides, as much as I appreciate everything the two of you have done for me, I need to get control of my life again on my terms.”
“Well then, let’s hit the road.”
* * * *
Despite him being a completely different person, it seemed Dallas and its population had continued their existence without an extra thought. Javier sat outside his former place of work, the Uber driver’s words white noise in his ears. He blinked a few times to get the world back into focus. “Thank you. My session will probably last an hour or so. Can I request you to come back and get me?”
“Sure. But there’s no guarantees I’ll be available.”
“I understand.” He maneuvered his way out of the car and stared at t
he glass door. The June sunshine reflecting off the glass blinded him for a moment, but muscle memory was a powerful driver. He pushed the button to automatically open the doors and swung his way inside. It was slightly awkward entering as a patient instead of an employee, but the therapists here were his best chance to get back in fighting form.
“Oh my God, Javier!”
He nearly fell over as he lost his balance on the crutches, because he was startled by the high-pitched exclamation. Clearly Sarah, the therapist who’d taken over his position, hadn’t informed the other employees that he was coming in today for his first session.
Thanks so fucking much.
“Hi, Bethany.” He smiled as the woman came around the side of the desk and stopped right in front of him. He could see that she wanted to give him a hug, but refrained before taking him in her arms.
“Where have you been? I saw your name on the schedule and I nearly passed out. What happened?”
“It’s complicated, but now that I’m ready to get my feet under me again, I knew I could only come to one place for my rehab. I’m just happy that Sarah agreed to take me on as a patient.”
“Well of course you had to come here! But, umm, you’re not seeing Sarah.”
“I’m not? But she said…”
Bethany rung her hands together for a second. “Now that Sarah’s the chief, she only sees patients three days a week. And, well, she’s not a Medicaid provider.”
He sighed. “I understand.”
“But hey, you’re seeing Malaki Taupo and he’s fantastic.”
“New guy, I guess?”
“Yes. When Sarah got your job, we hired Malaki to replace her as a full-timer.” Bethany leaned in and whispered, “He’s really amazing, and total eye candy too.”
Javier found himself releasing the tension that had built up. In his fight to survive, he’d forgotten Bethany’s ability to make him smile every day. The two of them had always been partners in crime around the office.
“Oh, sweetie, come here.”
He didn’t even realize tears had formed in his eyes till Bethany swiped them from his cheeks. He found himself wrapped in her arms.