by Tl Reeve
She didn’t have the words to explain what happened next or why she did it. They’d had mind-blowing sex after all and she should have been replete and happy, instead she screamed again. “Langley! Langley!” She clawed at Scotty, trying desperately to get away from him.
Then Thomas was there. His big body wrapped around her while he removed her from Scotty’s embrace. He cuddled her to his body as he put distance between her and Scotty. She hadn’t realized she’d been trembling or crying, until he rubbed her back. Scotty’s gaze snapped to hers as he sat there trying to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with confusion and fear and then anger.
“Why don’t you grab a shower?” Thomas said to Scotty. “I’ve got her.”
Her best friend sat on the edge of the bed bent forward as he ran his fingers through his hair several times before doing as Thomas said. She cried harder then. Scotty had done nothing wrong. She panicked. It was all her fault. The first time she felt such a strong connection with not one, but two men, and she fucked it all up by screaming her safe word.
“Stop it,” Thomas said. “You did nothing wrong. I saw it in your eyes, and I’d been so fucking turned on watching you and Scotty, I didn’t have the wherewithal to stop myself.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “I came with the both of you. It was amazing.”
She felt the wet stickiness on her arms and against her hip. She also felt the warmth of Scotty’s seed at the apex of her thighs. “Oh, God, what have I done? I’ve ruined everything. He’s going to hate me.” She sobbed into Thomas’ chest. “I’ve hurt him, and he’s going to hate me now.”
“Shhh...” Thomas continued to rub her back. “No. He’s not mad at you. He’s mad at himself for not paying attention. All three of us got carried away. I should be the one apologizing. I took things too far, especially after everything you told us tonight.”
She shook her head. “No. It’s me. I let myself get caught up. I let the fear in. I hurt all of us.” She sniffled as she continued to cry.
“You’re allowed. What happened here... Fuck, baby girl. It was bound to happen. This got intense way too fast.” He hugged her tight. “You did the right thing. You got overwhelmed. Hell, I got overwhelmed. Can you forgive me?”
She glanced up at him. “There’s nothing to forgive you for. I should be the one apologizing to you and Scotty.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Amelia,” he murmured. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better,” she whispered. “You’re good at this.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” When Scotty came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he looked like shit and the bubble of guilt built within her. “I should go to him.”
Thomas nodded.
She stood and joined Scotty on the other bed. “Will you hold me now?”
His gaze snapped to hers. After what I did?
She snorted. “I did worse.”
He shook his head. I knew. I understood what you said earlier, and I kept pushing. I felt you tapping on my shoulder. You were trying to get my attention and I couldn’t get enough of you.
“I lost it, too. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him. “So sorry.”
Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong. He sighed. Are you going to be a cling-on now?
She laughed softly and bobbed her fist up and down. “Yes. Hold me tonight? I need you.”
Scotty looked at Thomas. Okay.
AJ glanced over her shoulder. “You, too. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“I’d be honored,” Thomas said. “We should be getting some sleep as it is. We have one more day to prep, and we still have gear to pick up at the base before we head out.”
Ah, mission talk. She sank into the normalcy of the conversation and soon she was cuddled—her the non-cuddler—between both men. Her body was heavy as was her mind. She was exhausted from the inside out. Her eyes fluttered shut as she laid her head on the pillow, falling into the deepest sleep she’d had in years.
Chapter 3
Somewhere in Mexico...
Bright sunlight pierced Scotty’s closed eyes and he groaned. What happened? He tried to roll away from the light, but he could barely move. His body was heavy as if it’d been weighed down by something. Where am I? The last thing he remembered was walking out of the hotel to get a smoke, and then... Nothing.
Fuck.
His head pounded and his mouth felt caked with glue and dirt. Think, Scotty, think. What happened? He replayed events from the night before in his head. He had sex with AJ then she rejected him—not before she came so hard on his dick, he lost the ability to think clearly. He showered and... The jackhammering throb in his brain intensified. Not good. Not good. If he didn’t figure out what happened, he couldn’t call for help. Hell, he might not need it. If he went for a smoke, there was no telling what he did. He could have gone to a bar, got shit-faced and went home with a harem of lucky ladies.
No...
He didn’t feel like he’d screwed every woman who got in his way. This... This was different. He felt lethargic. Heavy. His limbs were exhausted. His brain foggy. His stomach pitched and churned, however not like when he drank in excess, which was hardly ever. Scotty opened his eyes and the sunlight seared his retinas. He groaned, snapping them shut.
Nope. Not happening.
Had he been drugged?
Shit.
The mission they were preparing for had risks. Were they found out? His heart tripped a beat. AJ. If he’d been taken, where was she? What happened to Thomas? None of it made sense. With an extreme headache crushing his skull, he couldn’t think clearly. He also didn’t remember what happened to him once he stepped out of the hotel room into the early morning air.
Damn it, what have I done? He tried to stretch out his body, but the tension there, from being in a fetal position, hurt like a son of a bitch. Ever since he could remember, it’d been his favorite position to sleep in, however now, it was as if he’d been stuck in that position for way longer than he should have. Matter of fact, he felt as though he’d slept like the dead, and it didn’t make sense. He sustained himself on four hours of sleep and six energy drinks a day.
AJ swore up and down one day he’d have a massive heart attack from all the caffeine in the drinks, but he’d been doing it since, well, forever. It kept him alert and aware of his surroundings. Growing up in foster care, he didn’t have all the gadgets other kids who were deaf or hard of hearing had. No alarm clocks vibrated to let him know it was time to get up. No lights flashed when he had an incoming call or a visitor at his door. Heck, he didn’t even have a service animal to help alert him.
So, it stood to reason he had issues.
He hadn’t been born this way. He’d been born into a hearing world, at least from what he remembered. Then at five his step-father beat him until he couldn’t stand, which should have caused his mother to leave the abusive fuck, but she stayed. Blamed Scotty for the asshole’s outbursts of rage. They didn’t take Scotty to the hospital, though. He laid in bed for more than a week afraid he’d never be able to move again. Eventually, he got out of bed, and swore he’d never do anything to bring about his step-father’s wrath again.
His promise didn’t last long. His arm hadn’t worked properly after the first beating. It was black and blue and hurt to move. So, when he broke a small glass while trying to get a drink of water, his step-father went on a rampage once more. He didn’t remember much, he supposed it was for the best, because when he woke up, he’d been in the hospital with a guard on his door. His hurt arm had a heavy, white cast on it, as did his right leg. His head had been wrapped and his left eye was covered by the bandage too. According to his records, the one’s he’d hacked once he’d gotten older, he’d had a double concussion. Both hemispheres of his brain had been affected. He’d had a broken left arm in two spots, the original from the first attack, and the second from when he dropped the glass of water. His eye, due to severity of the concussions,
had optic nerve atrophy, hence why he wore glasses now.
Shit, my glasses. He tapped the area where he laid and came up empty. He frowned. Fuck, now I know it’s bad.
Without AJ there, wherever he was, he’d have go back to relying on himself—something he hadn’t done in almost ten years. Again, he tried to sit up. The world spun around him and his stomach pitched. He was going to puke. He cracked his eyes open and found a bucket a split second before he hurled the contents of his stomach into the rusted, disgusting pail. He heaved again, the force of it caused all of the muscles of his stomach to cramp and he moaned. He fell to the floor and curled into a ball.
Shit, this sucks.
He hadn’t felt this bad since the day he woke up in the hospital and couldn’t hear anything. In his case, the small hairs in the ear along with the auditory bones and membranes were damaged beyond repair, causing an insufficient blood flow to the cochlear nerve. Not even putting hearing aids in his ears would fix the issue for him. Without something for the sound to vibrate against in his ears and conduct it, the small enhancers would be wasted on him.
He lived the vast majority of his life as if he’d been underwater. He knew when people were talking, but the sound was so warped and dim, it didn’t make a difference, he couldn’t make it out. As he scooted away from the putrid smell of his throw up, he tried to gather himself. He couldn’t lay there much longer and if he was honest with himself, he felt marginally better after vomiting.
Okay, no more fucking around. I have to figure out where the hell I am and how I got here. He forced his eyes open and grit his teeth as the jackhammering in his head intensified. If he wasn’t drunk, he’d been drugged. Which meant he wasn’t anywhere near the hotel. Shit. His thoughts returned to AJ and Thomas. He’d only meant to step outside for a smoke to clear his head, instead he was there, wherever there was, since everything had been fuzzy.
He placed his hand on the warm concrete of the room and frowned as he sat up. It’d been freezing cold in Virginia. In fact, they were supposed to be getting snow by the weekend, which he’d been relieved to be leaving for Mexico, because he hated the cold weather. The icy air always hurt his body, especially the limbs that had been broken. It left him stiff and cranky, something he’d worked hard to not take out on anyone. It’d been one of the reasons he worked out all the time. He thought, if he did, it would calm the aches and pains. It did, once he got warmed up, but by the end of the day he was eating Ibuprofen like it was candy during the winter.
A quick tap came to his shoulder, making him jerk in shock. Unable to see or hear the person, he held up his hands. Whoever was there, inched closer to him and held out their arm. The fuzzy blob had something black in their hand appeared in front of Scotty and a sense of relief rushed through him. My glasses. He snatched at them then pushed away again, afraid once he put them on, he’d get the shit beat out of him.
Scotty put the glasses on in haste and glanced around the room. It was a shanty shit-hole. He could see the sun poking out from between slats covering the windows. The walls were dingy, covered in God only knew what, as were the floors. Across from him stood a rack with collars and chains attached to it. Below it a drain. He’d seen shit like that before. Being part of the CIA gave him an up-close glimpse into the world of torture, spying, and espionage, even if he was only a data analyzer/hacker.
He peered over at the person who’d handed him his glasses and he’d been shocked. A woman in a small ergonomic wheelchair smiled at him. She wore a pink cardigan sweater, white pants and pink tennis shoes. Her hair had been pulled back from her face with it half up and rest was done in loose curls. She also looked familiar.
The woman started speaking, but Scotty cut her off. Deaf. He signed. Not willing to give away he understood everything she said.
Sorry. She smiled.
Scotty blinked. No problem. You sign?
She nodded. I’m Hannah.
Scotty. He pushed his glasses up onto his nose. Where am I?
Near Juarez, Mexico.
His stomach sank and he thought he’d puke again. He held up his finger as he tried to control the riot building in his stomach. Mexico? He’d been transported all the way to some dingy shanty in the middle of the Mexican desert and he didn’t remember a minute of it.
You the welcoming committee?
She nodded and glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. Can’t say much. Understand?
He inclined his chin. We’re not alone?
She tapped her index finger and middle finger against her thumb. No.
Okay. He flicked his fingers in a quick motion. What next?
Introductions. She frowned.
He didn’t like the worry etched into her features as she glanced over her shoulder again. He knew this woman. Her name confirmed it. She was Hannah Jacob, Murray’s sister. Scotty had no doubts about it. He inched closer to her. Take me to them.
She blanched. Not like this.
He frowned. Why?
They will beat you.
He snorted. Pain is a familiar foe.
Her gaze fell to where her hands rested in her lap. Be serious.
I am. Pain had been a constant companion since the day he woke up in the hospital bed, broken and battered. It followed him to each foster house he’d been transferred to since none of his family wanted the burden of having him around.
Meek, not strong.
Scotty scrunched up his face. Meek? He turned the word over in his head then jerked. Submissive? He spelled the word out to be sure he was understanding the woman correctly then signed it.
She gave a curt nod.
Fuck that.
Please, she beseeched him.
He didn’t have a submissive bone in his body, not since that day long ago. He wouldn’t allow another person to hold dominion over him. It’d been why he finally spoke up to Thomas about his wants and needs. Of course, he’d done so when AJ hadn’t been near. It had been nice being able to talk to him without someone having to interpret everything he said. It all culminated the night before...er...whenever it was when he finally explained his intentions to AJ. However, it would have been nice had Thomas not put him on the spot.
How long have I been here?
Three days, she signed.
He slashed his hands through air in anger. Three days?
You fought.
He deflated. He’d fought back? He couldn’t even remember how he got there, or when, yet he’d been cognizant enough to try to get away? Guess it’s why I feel like shit?
She bobbed her fist up and down. They increased the dose. Medication. She glanced over her shoulder at the same time Scotty felt the vibrations of the door. Submissive, remember.
The idea of prostrating himself for those bastards on the other side of the door rubbed him the wrong way, he hated it. Yet, he did it anyway, pressing his forehead to the floor as the men entered the room. He needed to see their faces. Needed them ingrained on his memory, so when the time came, he’d kill them first.
They would regret kidnapping him.
The toe of a black boot filled his peripheral vision seconds before it reared back and was lodged in his ribs. Scotty lurched to the side as the air rushed from him. He glanced up a split second before the man stomped on him and kicked him again. An all too familiar pain settled over him. He welcomed the darkness accompanying it. Just as he started to drift into the void, the man who’d attacked him, snatched him up off the floor, causing the room to tilt and swim. Had he not puked his guts up already, he would’ve upchucked the contents of his stomach onto the guy. The idea did give Scotty a small thrill of satisfaction until the man shook him.
The man’s lips moved too quickly and with the snarl there, Scotty couldn’t read them even if he wanted to. Instead, he studied the asshole’s face. He had a scar over his right eye which had been blinded due to whatever caused the injury. On his neck was a set of prayer hands with a rosery wrapped around it. Above the hands was a smaller tattoo, an Azteca symbol, he
believed, with three roman numerals. The man’s hair had been pulled back into a severe ponytail then braided. He had a good thirty pounds on Scotty as well.
Scotty dropped his gaze. In the condition he was, there’d been no way for Scotty to fight back. So, in the meantime, he’d have to go with the flow. Later he’d take his chances. The guy dropped him to the ground and Scotty fell in a heap, rattling all of his bones and his brain. He swore the squishy matter ping-ponged off the walls of his skull.
Hannah was there in an instant. She held up her hands, waving them at the man. She spoke as fast as the man had before turning her attention to Scotty. She placed her hand on his shoulder while rubbing the center of her chest.
Sorry? What the hell is she sorry for? He nodded and glanced up at the guy again who curled his lip in disgust.
He didn’t know, she signed. He thought you ignored him.
A harsh coughing fit wracked Scotty’s body and he spit out blood. He cut his gaze toward the man as he signed, I see.
They’re not allowed to damage the goods. She tipped Scotty’s face up and frowned. He will pay.
The man flung his hands up and started away.
Can you walk?
Walk? He couldn’t even breathe. Sure.
Scotty wrapped his arm around his middle as he ambled out of the room. Each step expelled more energy than he had. It was as if he tried to walk through quicksand. Add in the dry desert heat... His heart pounded, and his skin became a sweaty, clammy mess. Walk out, she said. Pfft. I got my lungs shoved into my throat and my stomach shoved into my spine. He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight as he stepped out of the building.
Across from him stood three men, each wearing a three-piece suit. They each had severe looks on their faces, as though they’d eaten a sour grape or lemon slice. The man to the right of the man Scotty presumed was the leader, cut his eyes in the direction of the man who’d kicked the shit out of Scotty. The lead man, wearing an expensive black fitted suit, inclined his chin at the man who stared a hole in the asshole assaulter.
