30
Ryker
“Arms around my neck, sweetheart. Can you hold on long enough for me to wash your hair?”
“I…think so. I’m so tired, Ry.”
Stepping under the spray, I help her tip her head back, then start to massage shampoo into her hair. “I know. We’ll sleep in a few minutes. Tell me what hurts.”
“Everything,” she murmurs against my chest. “How long did…he have me?”
“Thirty-three hours.” I could tell her the minutes. Tell her how I kept checking my watch. Pacing. How West threatened to tie me up next to Semyon if I didn’t stop hovering over his shoulder.
“I kept hoping…you’d come for me.”
The sudden tightness in my chest steals my breath. If she’d shot me, I’d be in less pain. “I’m so sorry, baby. I…”
“S’okay. I know…Kolya had too many men.”
As the blood and dirt wash down the drain, Wren falls silent, and I don’t know if she’ll ever truly come back to me. Not after what that bastard put her through. Thirty-three hours. Thirty-three hours. Even if she spent much of it high, her body shows the horrors he visited upon her, and I’d bet my life he didn’t hurt her until the drugs wore off.
I keep my touch light as I skim my hands over her mound, her hip, her ass. She doesn’t react—to anything—and I whisper her name. “Wren?”
“Uh huh.”
Thank God she’s still with me. “Let’s get you into bed, okay?”
“Uh huh.”
Maneuvering a limp woman into a sweatshirt and fleece pants isn’t easy. Not with her injuries. But I bandage her arm and ankle, and then sit her up against my chest and press one of her daily anxiety pills to her lips. “Open, baby.”
“No. No drugs.” Her whimper holds so much fear, but she needs this. Needs to feel…normal again.
“It’s just your anxiety medication, Wren. The one you take every night. Trust me. You need this.”
She’s too out of it to protest more, and after a sip of water, I lay her down, and she’s asleep almost immediately.
I won’t leave her side, despite the curses and sounds of scuffling coming from the main room. Semyon’s understandably worried about his sister, but Wren was always my priority. And as far as we know, Elena wasn’t in mortal danger tonight. Wren was.
I watch Wren until I can’t stay awake any longer. Then I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her damp curls. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll never fail you again.”
“Ry?” Her weak voice permeates my dreams, and I’m instantly awake.
“What is it? What do you need?”
“I don’t feel well. I think…I’m going to be sick.”
I scoop her up in my arms and carry her into the bathroom. She retches, but nothing comes up. “I don’t…know what’s…wrong.”
“When was the last time you ate?” I brush her hair back from her face, and I see the answer before she says a word. “Fuck, baby. I’ll get you something. What do you want?”
“Don’t leave me.” Wren clutches my arms, and the fear in her voice shatters something inside me.
“I won’t. West and Inara are here. You want McDonald’s? I’ll send one of them.”
She collapses against me, winding her arms around my waist. “I want to forget.”
“I know. But let’s start with some food, okay?” Everything she’s feeling…I understand. I had the same thoughts when I escaped Hell. She’ll never forget. Not really. And a rational Wren wouldn’t want to. This Wren…she’s terrified. In pain. And too raw to understand what she’s feeling.
I carry her back to our makeshift bed and text West.
McDonald’s. Big Macs and Fries. Cokes. She hasn’t eaten in more than 36 hours. Please.
A few seconds later, I hear the front door open and shut. “Talk to me, Wren.”
“It won’t change anything.” She tries to turn over, but something hurts, and she hisses out a breath. “Shit.”
“Shit? No Cracker Jacks? Fudgsicles? Shoot the Moon?” I ghost my knuckle along her cheek, just below one of the darker bruises. “I was working on my own variations for you. Like…’go to Hollywood’ or ‘shut the fudge shop.’”
One corner of her mouth twitches in what might be a hint of a smile. “I…don’t mind if you swear…like a normal person.”
“Oh, I’ll always swear, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about that. You spend as long as I did in the army, you can’t help it.” I ease her against me, mindful of her various bruises. “But before I enlisted, I was a kindergarten teacher.”
“What?” For the first time since she escaped, her voice holds an emotion other than fear. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?” I duck my head and press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll never lie to you, Wren. I taught little rug rats for three years before 9/11. Loved every single minute of it.”
“Why didn’t you go back?” Her words slur a bit, but she relaxes into my embrace and trails her fingers over one of the thicker scars on my chest.
Now that I have her back in my arms, I refuse to hide behind the walls I’ve built and reinforced for years. She’s too important. She’s mine, and I want to be hers. But there’s a fuck ton of shit she needs to know about me first. Still, I don’t know how to admit my truth.
“When I went home…for the first time after Hell…no one recognized me.” All of a sudden, I’m back in Quincy, knocking on my aunt’s door. “Mom and Pop were gone already. So was my brother. But my Aunt Lindsay was still alive. Her son—my cousin—has two little girls. Well, they’re teenagers now. Nicole was seven. She answered the door. Then…screamed and ran for her grandma.”
Wren’s fingers tangle with mine, and I try not to grip her hand too hard. Her knuckles are bruised and raw.
“Brittany—she was two years older—told me I was a monster. And my aunt…she asked me to leave because I was scaring the kids.”
“Oh God. Ryker. She’s your family.”
“Not anymore. I walked away, got in the car, and drove straight to the airport. Caught the next flight to Seattle.” I bend my arm under my head and stare up at the ceiling. “Figured if my own family couldn’t stand to look at me, a classroom full of kids wouldn’t want to either.”
A knock at the door makes Wren jump.
“Food,” Inara calls. “Can I come in?”
I want to say no—I’m only wearing a pair of basketball shorts, and Inara’s never seen the worst of my scars. But as I glance around, I realize all my clean clothes are in the living room. And Wren needs to eat. “Yeah.”
My wounded little bird curls against me when the door opens, regarding Inara with a wary, nervous gaze. But the scent of french fries and greasy burgers makes her stomach growl.
“Wren?” Kneeling next to us, Inara holds out her hand. I don’t expect Wren to move…not as weak and scared as she’s been, but she pushes herself up to her knees with some effort and hugs Inara.
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
Inara gently pats Wren’s back and whispers something in her ear before the two women part. “You have Big Macs, Chicken McNuggets, fries, Cokes, and three kids meals in there.”
“Holy shit. You do realize Wren’s all of a hundred pounds soaking wet, don’t you?” I peer into the bag and suddenly realize how hungry I am.
“I do. And you haven’t eaten since she was taken either, asshole.” With a jab to my shoulder and a quick glance at my scarred chest, Inara pushes to her feet. “Besides, what better way to throw any potential tail off my scent than to order three kids meals.”
“She has a point,” Wren says as she pulls out a hamburger and peels off the wrapper.
Inara pauses at the threshold and turns back to us. “We’re monitoring the cameras. So far, there’s no indication they know where we are. You’re safe, Wren. And we’ll make sure you stay that way. West is working on a new plan to save Elena right now, and as soon as you’re okay to travel,
we’ll get her and get the fuck out of Russia.”
After Inara closes the door, Wren turns to me, a bit of ketchup smearing the corner of her mouth. “West is here? He’s…the other member of your team, right?”
“The damn fool postponed his own fucking wedding.” I tear into a Big Mac, pausing only to swipe the little red smear from Wren’s cheek. Not eating for twenty-four hours was stupid. If my reaction time had been any slower, I could have gotten her killed. “I didn’t ask him to come.”
One hamburger gone and another half-eaten, Wren stops and reaches for my hand. All I see every time I look at her is the bruises. The pain behind her eyes. But she links our fingers and holds on tight. “They’re your family, Ry. They’ve always been your family. You just didn’t see it.”
“They work for me,” I say after a swig of Coke.
“Bullpucky.” She tries a smile, and though it’s lopsided and doesn’t light up her eyes like it did before she was taken, I think something’s settled inside her. “They care about you. And you care about them. Why is that so hard for you to admit?”
Because I hurt everyone I care about.
“Ry?” Wren sets the half-eaten carton of fries back in the bag and scoots closer to me, a grimace of pain twisting her lips until she blows out a breath. “I…I care about you.”
I should tell her. Everything. Say those three words I’ve never said to anyone. But…if I do, I’ll fail her. Like I failed Dax. And West. And Inara. Like I failed my brother. And most of all, like I failed myself.
The light in her eyes fades, and she picks up her soda and takes a long drink. “I’m going to sleep a while now. You won’t leave?”
“No, baby. I won’t leave.” As she slides under the sleeping bag, I want to run as far and as fast as I can. But a promise is a promise, and despite my fear, I love this woman. And I’ll try as hard as I can to never let her down.
Wren
Ryker groans quietly and drapes his arm around me. I wish I could sleep, but I’m about to crawl out of my skin. Every time I close my eyes, I hear Koyla threatening me. Or feel the needle piercing my vein. I can’t settle.
After what I now know was more than twenty-four hours chained to a sink in a tiny bathroom, I feel like the walls are closing in on me. But…at the same time, everything’s just…too much. Every sensation is magnified a thousand times. I can’t get comfortable. Falling off the balcony bruised my tailbone, jammed my shoulder, and twisted my knee. I don’t even know if I can walk. Ryker carried me to this little oasis he created. Three sleeping bags, candles all around the room—thankfully unlit as I don’t know if I’d be able to handle them right now—a bottle of water and food within reach, and him.
Every time I came back to my senses after the drugs, I half-expected him to be there. Rescuing me. Protecting me. I know why he couldn’t. Too many guns. Too many men. But the disappointment…it’s one of the only feelings I can remember besides fear. And…the relief, every time Kolya depressed that plunger. A moment of complete and utter terror, and then…nothing.
I wish I could feel nothing again.
Unable to lie still another second, I try to slide out from under Ryker’s arm, and beads click together. Oh my God. He found my bracelet. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me as I ease the band off his wrist and onto mine, praying he won’t wake up. He’ll want to talk, and I…just can’t.
Across the room, a single window is covered with a thick blanket. Ryker’s doing. Privacy. Making sure no one knows this house is occupied—or how many people are here. I need to see out. Need to see something besides four walls crushing me.
Not trusting my legs, I use my hands to scoot myself across the floor on my less-bruised hip. My eyes burn at how broken I feel—how broken I am—but I won’t let myself cry any more. I can’t. After I pull out the tacks holding the bottom of the blanket in place, I peel back a corner and stare out at the deserted street.
Without lamplight, I can see the stars, and I run my fingers over the beads around my wrist. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Z used to do the same thing. He said it calmed him when he wanted to use.
Z…I’m so sorry. I never understood you. Not truly. Not until now.
If I had…would things be different? Would I be back in Boston with him? Safe? Cocooned in my own little bubble with Pixel on my lap watching Firefly for the fiftieth time?
My lower lip wobbles as I try to shove my emotions back down where they can’t hurt me. If I’d known what Z was going through, would I have met Ryker? He’s the one good spot in my life. The one thing I know I need. Want.
Staring at his face, relaxed in sleep like it never is when he’s awake, I wish I’d listened to him. I never should have gone after Semyon. Maybe then…we’d still have a chance. Because now…I don’t even know if I have a chance. Or if I want one.
31
Ryker
The chill at my side wakes me from a deep sleep, and I sit up, looking around wildly until I see her curled by the window, a flap of the blanket pulled back so she can stare into the street.
“Get away from the window,” I snap and claw my way out of the sleeping bag. I’m at her side in three steps, pulling her into my arms. “What the hell were you doing?”
In the dim light from the single bulb, her eyes shine, wide and terrified, the pale green almost gray. “It’s…too much,” she whispers.
“What’s too much?” I smooth a hand over her hair, and she leans into my touch one moment, then tries to scoot away the next. “Talk to me, Wren.”
“Everything. All of it.” Her breath catches in her throat as she extricates herself from my arms and leans back against the wall. Fingering her bracelet—the one suddenly no longer around my wrist—she counts silently, fighting against her anxiety and panic. I scramble for her pill case, find a Xanax, and press it into her palm.
“Take this, sweetheart. Then come back to bed and tell me what’s wrong.”
Instead of swallowing the pill, she holds it up to the light, turning it over and over between her fingers. “It’s worse now. Knowing there’s an alternative.”
She’s speaking in half sentences and generalizations, and I can’t put the pieces together. But I feel like I’m losing her. “What’s worse? What alternative? Baby, you have to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. You’re scaring me.”
Her entire body shudders as she forces a breath, and the pill falls to the floor. Scooping it up, I try to hand it back to her, but she shakes her head gingerly. “Z had anxiety and panic attacks his whole life. Mine…didn’t get bad until college. I thought…I thought I had them under control.” Gesturing to the pill in my hand, she offers me a weak smile. “Even though Xanax never took all the pain away, never left me feeling…totally calm. But Zion…he found the secret.”
Wren stares up at me, uncertainty welling in her eyes. “What do I do now that I know the secret too? I can’t forget it.” Her voice lowers, fading away to almost nothing. “I was terrified. Kolya locked me to a pipe in his bathroom. And he made me watch. He had his men hold me down while he cooked the heroin and told me how I’d do anything once he had me hooked. I’d tell him anything he wanted to know.”
“You’re—” She holds up her hand and shakes her head before I can tell her she’s okay, that she only had a taste, and she’s strong enough to know drugs aren’t the answer.
Swallowing hard, she presses her lips together, and I spot the tremble. The struggle for control. I can’t move. Every piece of me aches to hold her, but whatever this is…she has to get through it.
“I’ve never been so scared. Until he drugged me. And then…I felt nothing. No fear. No pain. It was like…I was at peace for the first time in my entire life. Nothing mattered. Nothing. And every time he came for me…he’d let the effects wear off just enough so I’d be afraid. And he’d beat me and threaten and taunt, until I’d start to shake or cry or cower, and then he’d dose me, and it felt…so good. Like all my problems went away.”
“B
ut it wasn’t real, sweetheart.”
A tear balances along her lower lid. “I know. But you don’t understand… When I escaped…he was late, I think. I felt…more clear-headed. And I realized the chain he used was so thin, I could probably break it. So I did. But before I got out of his bedroom, he came in with another dose, and a threat. He was going to rape me. Make me his. And I was going to feel everything because he wasn’t going to give me the drug until he was done.”
Rage sparks across my skin, the heat of it setting me ablaze as I ball my hands into fists and try not to scare Wren any more than she already is. I want to destroy Kolya. Piece by piece, and I want to make sure he’s conscious for every fucking second.
Wren stifles a sob. “I fought him off, kicked him in the balls a couple of times.” A little snort, almost a laugh, mixes with her next sniffle. “And then I saw the needle. And, Ry…I thought about it. Did I want to use it on him and try to escape? Or use it on myself so I wouldn’t care when he raped me?”
Somewhere under my anger, understanding dawns. Why she’s so scared. Why she can’t fully trust that I’ll protect her.
“It’s so much worse now,” she says softly. “Knowing I could make all my fear and pain go away, if I were willing to pay the price.”
For a few seconds, I don’t move. Wren runs her fingers over her bracelet, and I let her finish her ritual before I offer her my hand. “Can I hold you, Wren? I…need you to know about Hell.”
Wren
I don’t know if I can settle against him, but he needs me. It’s in the timber of his voice, the sadness in his eyes, the arch of his brow. So I nod, and he helps me shift onto my side, the sleeping bags cocooning us. He’s chilled, and for as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been warm.
“Intel is everything in war. We had this new guy working the radios. And he screwed up. Forgot to encrypt the signal. So the enemy knew exactly where my team was going to be. But they didn’t know why we were there.”
On His Six Page 18
