“They might hear us,” she says, so softly I barely hear us.
“Turn the light out.”
Her eyes flash with fear.
“It’ll be okay. Trust me,” I say, reaching out and offering my hand. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
She hesitates, staring at my hand, then she reaches forward cautiously and takes it. I curl my fingers around hers gently, and she flinches. Poor, poor girl. I pull her towards the gate, slowly, and we move out of the camp and into the darkness. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and I can see the exit. I know it’s close.
But then Hayley changes her mind.
Another moment that defines our paths.
She lets go of my hand and cries, “I can’t do this. I’ll be punished. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Hayley,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. “Please, I know you’re scared, but—”
“No,” she shrieks. “HELP!”
God dammit.
“Hayley, I won’t hurt you,” I say, reaching for her hand again.
“Don’t touch me,” she cries. “No. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”
“It’s okay. Please believe I won’t hurt you.”
“Who’s out there?” a voice calls.
I look in the direction of the tent lit with lights, and see five men stomping out of the entrance. Then I look to the gate. I have seconds. Hayley is backing away. I need to get out of here.
“I’ll come back for you, Hayley. Please know that you’re better off out of this place, but I won’t force you. I do promise to help you, though.”
“She’s running away,” she screams.
My heart breaks for her, because I know deep down in her soul, she wants to come with me but whatever she’s seen happen to those who disobey in this place terrifies her far more than taking the risk to leave.
I turn and run.
I charge towards the gate, my heart pounding, my body on full alert. I know it’ll be locked. I reach it and rattle it a few times to see if I can make a gap big enough to squeeze through, but I can’t. Voices yell behind me and the sounds of feet pounding can be heard. Lights flash in my direction. There is only one way out.
I have to climb.
I throw myself onto the fence and start moving upwards. A hand curls around my ankle and for a second, I lose my balance, and I’m sure I’m going to fall. I kick out, screaming in frustration as I’m jerked downwards. No. I have to get out of here. I kick again, this time hitting something. An oomph can be heard and then a thud on the ground.
Please don’t let that have been Hayley.
I climb faster and the voices behind me get closer. I reach the top of the fence and hesitate for a split second at the barbed wire. This is going to do some damage. I glance behind me and see three men approaching the base of the fence. “Get the keys, hurry, hurry!” the tallest of the men yells to the others.
No keys.
A few minutes, if I’m lucky.
I take a deep breath, reach up, curl my fingers around the barbed wire to pinch it together, and then I throw myself over. Pain rips through my body as my clothes catch on and the tiny pieces of wire slice into my skin. I cry out and grit my teeth, pushing above and beyond, knowing if I fail now, the consequences on the other side for me are far worse than the pain I’m experiencing in this moment.
I make it over the barbed wire and I taste blood on my lips, from my face or my body, I don’t know. I don’t care. I lower myself down but slip and fall halfway, losing my footing. I land with a thud on the ground, and pain ricochets through my wrist. A strangled scream gets caught in my throat. Oh god. It hurts. I force myself to my feet and try not to glance down at what I’ll already guess is a broken wrist.
Vomit rises up from my stomach as I stumble forward, the voices behind me so close they sound as if they’re right next to me.
I need to run. I want to die.
My entire body burns from the slices the fence created, but my wrist is igniting a pain I’ve never experienced in my life before.
I take two steps and slam into a hard form.
A scream rips from my throat as I try to jump backwards.
“Don’t run.”
That voice.
So familiar.
I try to focus, but I can’t see anything in the dark.
A shoulder meets my stomach and I’m launched into the air.
“No, please,” I croak. It’s pathetic even to my ears.
“It’s Tank. Shut your mouth.”
Tank.
Tank?
I shut my mouth. Mostly because if I open it again, the screams and agonized sobs I’m holding back will surely break free. And I can’t allow that to happen.
Not yet, anyway.
~*~*~*~
Tank runs.
I don’t know how, considering it’s pitch-black out, but he seems to know where he’s going. Flashlights behind us slowly fade off into the distance as we move into the thick trees. He carries me as if I weigh no more than a bag of flour. The pain is so intense right now that I know I couldn’t have run far before passing out. It’s taking everything to keep myself conscious.
Car lights come into view a few hundred feet ahead, and Tank runs directly towards them. When he reaches the truck, its engine running, the door flings open and Sheldon gets out. “Holy fuck. I heard commotion but I didn’t realize you got her out.”
“I didn’t.” He grunts, putting me on the back seat. “She got out herself.”
“Bad ass,” Sheldon says, but his face quickly turns concerned. “She’s bleeding.”
“She scaled a barbed wire fence, fell halfway down the other side, and broke her wrist.”
I whimper as I stare down at the swollen, angry mess of my wrist.
“Fuck. I’ll call Heath.”
“We need to get the fuck out of here, now,” Tank says. “Do it in the car.”
They both get into the truck and Tank speeds off. I let my body fall down onto the back seat, my mind spinning, pain engulfing my entire body until I can hardly breathe through it.
“We’ve got her.”
I think Sheldon says that. I’m not sure.
“She’s a mess. One our way back.”
Heath?
“Yeah bro, not good. Broken wrist, cuts, fuck knows what else. Be there soon.”
My eyes flutter closed and I cry out in pain, clearly louder than I thought because Sheldon turns in his seat, the phone pressed to his ear. “She’s fine, Heath. Chill. We’re coming.”
“Sheldon?” I croak.
He hangs up the phone and reaches over, taking my good hand. “Yeah?”
“It hurts.”
“I know. It won’t soon. Hang on.”
We go over a bump and just the tap of my wrist against the chair has a scream ripping from my throat.
“Easy, dude,” Sheldon barks.
“Sorry,” Tank mutters.
“Did Tank just say sorry?” I slur as my mind begins to black out from the pain.
“He did. Take it in—it’ll never happen again.”
“I think he likes me,” I murmur, letting my eyes close.
Tank snorts.
Sheldon leans in and whispers, “I think he does, too.”
I pass out with a smile on my face.
At least, I think I do.
CHAPTER 24
“Hey.”
My eyes flutter open and for a second, there’s no pain in my body. Then, when I shift, it comes roaring back like an angry storm. I open my mouth and a broken scream comes out.
“Shit, get her out of the truck.”
Someone takes hold of me, hauling me up into their arms and pulling me out of the truck. My hand. It hurts so badly. I want it to go away.
“I’m going to make it feel better, baby.”
Heath.
Heath!
“It hurts,” I sob.
“I know it does.”
Light blasts my eyes as I’m carried inside and placed on the
sofa. I try to focus but can only make out four figures hovering around me, talking so quickly I can’t hear what they’re saying.
“It’s a job for Jacob. Call him,” Heath orders, raising a pair of scissors.
My eyes get big and I try to move as far back on the couch as possible. “What are you doing?” I shriek.
“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, lowering them. “I’m just getting your clothes off without having to disrupt your wrist. You’re bleeding. I need to see where and stop it.”
Bleeding.
Stop it.
“Okay,” I croak.
“Okay, sit still for me. The pain will go away soon, I promise.”
I wince as he pulls my shirt from my body. It’s begun to stick to the blood and each piece he cuts off makes each wound throb a little more. Eventually I’m down to my bra and panties.
“Get me some water and rags,” Heath orders. “Now.”
“Jesus, she did a good job,” Johnny grumbles. “Fuck.”
“Scaled the fence like a damned warrior,” Tank grunts. “You should have seen her.”
“That’s because she is a warrior,” Heath says, his voice low and thick. He swipes a piece of hair from my forehead, stuck from sweat. “Aren’t you, Lucy girl?” My bottom lip trembles, and he cups my face. “You’re okay, you hear me?”
“Josh is your brother.”
The room falls silent.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice tight.
“And he hurt you.”
Pain flashes in Heath’s eyes. “Yeah.”
“He tried to kill you.”
“He’ll pay for that,” Johnny growls. “He’ll pay for every second of pain he brought upon us.”
I look to him. “Did he hurt you, too?”
“Not directly, but in hurting Heath, he fucking messed with me.”
I smile weakly. He smiles back.
“Here,” Sheldon says, placing a bowl down. “Saltwater.”
“Might hurt,” Heath says, lifting a soft white rag and wringing it out. “Sorry.”
I close my eyes as he places it down onto a gash on my leg. A hiss escapes my lips, but I don’t cry out. That pain is nothing in comparison to the throbbing ache in my wrist.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, doing it again.
I keep my eyes closed and let him clean the blood from my skin. A while later, another voice enters the equation. “What have you boys done this time?”
I open my eyes to see an extremely attractive man staring down at me. He’s got long, brown hair, and hazel eyes. He looks gentle—not nearly as scary as the rest of them. He’s got kind eyes, ones that make me trust him without even knowing his name.
“Jacob,” Heath says, standing and extending a hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“What did she do? Walk into a lion’s den?” Jacob says, staring down at me.
“Scaled a barbed-wire fence.”
His brows shoot up. “I won’t even ask.”
“Good idea,” Heath mumbles. “This is Lucy, my girlfriend.”
His girlfriend. My heart swells with happiness.
Jacob looks to him. “You have a girlfriend?”
“Shut your mouth, man.”
Jacob grins, then kneels down in front of me. “Hi Lucy, I’m Jacob. I’m a doctor, so don’t freak out that these dodgy fuckers have some nut job working on you.”
“Good to know,” I croak.
“Let’s have a look at your wrist first, yeah?”
I nod cradling my wrist.
He lifts it carefully into his hands, and I wince in pain. It takes everything in my power not to jerk back because I just want him to put it down.
“Sorry to say, Heath, but this is without a doubt broken. Without an X-ray machine, I can’t set it. You’re going to need to take her to a hospital.”
“That’s a big risk.” Heath grunts, running a hand through his hair. “They don’t know we’re here. At least, I think they don’t, but those main roads will be being watched. I’m already creating a dangerous situation now they know I’m alive.”
“I’ll take her,” Jacob offers. “Nobody knows my car.”
“I can’t leave her alone,” Heath growls.
“Hey,” I whisper, reaching over and taking Heath’s wrist. “I’m a big girl; I’ll be okay.”
“That’s beside the point,” he grumbles, holding my eyes.
“I’m going to be okay.”
He sighs. “All right, take her in, but keep me updated.”
“You know she’s in good hands, man,” Jacob says. “Come on. Help me get her to the car.”
Heath reaches down and scoops me into his arms. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
I reach up with my good hand and cup his face. “I’m going to be fine.”
“Blake, give her your phone.”
Blake doesn’t hesitate. He hands me his phone.
“Call me if you need.”
I nod, and he places me in Jacob’s truck. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “I’m going to end this, I promise.”
I stretch forward when he goes to pull back and kiss his lips again. “Don’t get hurt while I’m gone.”
“I fucking hate that you’re going seconds after I got you back.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’m sorry they got hold of you.”
“Hey,” I whisper. “Don’t do that. We’ll talk when I return.”
“Okay, baby.”
“Okay, handsome.”
He takes one step behind him and closes the door, tapping the truck roof.
I close my eyes and let the pain bring darkness again.
~*~*~*~
“How’re you feeling this morning?” Heath asks, tucking me carefully into his arms.
“Is it still morning?” I croak.
“Yeah, but you slept an entire day and night away.”
“I did?” I gasp, shifting into a more relaxed position.
“Good painkillers.” He grins, pressing a kiss to my nose.
I vaguely recall the hospital trip. I got there, they set my arm which hurt like hell, cleaned up my gashes which thankfully, didn’t need stitches, and let me leave with some good medication. I fell asleep on the way here and this is the first time I’ve woken since then. I didn’t realize I’d slept so long. I shift uncomfortably, and my arm is letting off a dull ache, but it’s the gashes on my body that make it difficult to find a good positon. There seems to be one pressed down on no matter which way I want to lie.
“You’re in pain.”
I glance at Heath after shifting a few times. “Not so much,” I croak. “It’s just hard to get comfortable when there’s a gash on every part of my body.”
His eyes flash with regret, and he looks away. “You need a shower and some food. Come on, I’ll help you up.”
He slides out of the bed and I want to reach out to get his warm chest back, but I don’t. I push myself into a sitting position and stare down at my sore body. There are little red lines all over me, some deep and covered in bandages, others just light grazes. My wrist is heavily bandaged and slung against my chest. I’m a hot mess.
“I’ll have to help bathe you. You can’t get that arm wet.”
I smirk weakly. “You seem really distressed about that.”
He grins. “I am.”
He helps me up and we walk into the bathroom, where he runs the bath. I watch as he fills it with nice-smelling soaps. When it’s done, he slowly removes my bra and panties, his eyes growing lustier with every passing moment.
“How can you get turned on when I look like I’ve taken on a lion?”
He leans in, running his tongue over my neck. “Because you’re the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen, injured or not.”
He scoops me into his arms and gently places me in the warm water. It stings, and I hiss through my teeth, closing my eyes for a few seconds while I wait for the pain to subside.
When it does, I glance at him again.
He lifts a washcloth and gently runs it over my body. “Are you this nice to all your girlfriends?”
He pauses and his eyes flash to mine. “I don’t do girlfriends.”
I snort.
His face remains serious.
Oh.
“Wait, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“In high school, yeah.”
“I feel like I need to exit this bath and question you right now.”
His mouth tips up into a smile. “I’m not a creep; I just haven’t had time for relationships.”
“But . . . I mean . . . not even for a few weeks?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I fuck, maybe more than once. If that classes as a relationship, then sure.”
“You’re a dirty, dirty dog,” I tease.
He puts the washcloth between my legs, and I gasp.
“That I may be, but I do it well,” he murmurs, dragging it up my sex.
“Are you going to get me off with a cloth? Because that would be very weird,” I whisper, rotating my hips.
“It would appear you don’t want to stop me, considering you’re grinding against my hand.”
I look at him through my lashes. He lets the cloth go and replaces it with his fingers, sliding them up and down my sex, teasing and taunting.
“You could get in,” I offer breathily.
“You’re injured.”
“You have your hands between my legs,” I point out.
“It isn’t risking further injury,” he breathes, pinching my clit between his fingers. Pleasure quickly takes over some of the pain that has taken root in my sore body.
“It is because I want you in here, and I might try and fight for it.”
“You won’t win. Now lie still and let me work.”
I open my mouth to further argue but his finger slides into my sex. I gasp and my head drops back. I keep one arm slung out of the bath and hold on to the side with the other, thrusting my hips upwards so he can slide deeper. He slips another finger in, and I groan as I stretch and pull around him. Somehow he uses his thumb to keep stimulating my clit, and it feels amazing.
“I’ve never really been fingered,” I gasp, feeling sensations building in my core.