by Jenna Jacob
“Get back,” Ross barked as he and Darren stormed toward me.
After shoving the stack of envelopes in Burk’s hand, the big drummer planted one foot on the floor, then reared back and lifted his leg. Slamming his heavy boot against the barrier, he sent splinters of wood sailing through the air and a thunderous reverberation rattling me to the bone.
I dashed into the room and immediately froze in my tracks. Light from the hallway coupled with the dim lamp from a bedside table illuminated a woman, naked and tied to the bed. Like the girl in the photo, she’d been beaten badly.
Her dark eyes were wild and filled with terror as she forcefully thrashed and yanked at the rough, blood-stained rope attached to her ankles and wrists. And her horrified screams were muffled by the strip of duct tape covering her mouth.
My stomach tilted and sank to my toes as I gaped at the multitude of angry, bloody cuts and burns—both old and new—and the plethora of mottled bruises covering her ivory flesh.
“Son of a…” Ozzy whispered behind me.
As I inched in closer, she tossed her head from side to side, tugging so hard on the ropes that new blood started seeping down her arms.
“Easy, easy,” I said softly, raising my hands in surrender. Tears spilled from her chocolate-brown eyes—eyes that seemed hauntingly familiar. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
She stilled. For a second, I thought I’d finally pierced her layers of panic, but when shudders of fear began quaking her body as she bounced wild stares at me and the others, I knew I’d failed.
She whimpered and eyed each of the guys as they moved in closer. Glancing up at them, I muttered a curse. No wonder she didn’t believe me. We were all wearing our damn ski masks. The poor thing probably thought we were there to kill her.
Ripping the mask off my face, I sent her a pleading stare. “Honest, angel. We’re not here to hurt you.”
The instant the words left my lips, she inhaled a gasp so sharp her blood-caked nostrils narrowed. Her eyes grew even wider as a mournful whine rolled around the back of her throat. Yeah, she’d recognized me, but I didn’t care. All I could think about now was saving the frightened, abused girl.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ross snarled. “She can ID you now… ID all of us.”
As she slowly shook her head, the shock and disbelief shimmering in her dark eyes sent a wave of déjà vu spilling through me. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t stop myself from easing onto the mattress beside her. There was some kind of ancient connection I couldn’t quite wrap my head around taking place between us, making my heart race and break at the same time. And when she didn’t try to scoot away or tug at the ropes again, I knew I’d finally pierced her shield of panic.
“I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt.” Cringing, I pinched the edge of the duct tape and ripped it off quickly, like a bandage.
She yelped then pressed her swollen, cracked lips together before dragging in a ragged breath. Then she looked up at me and softly whispered, “Thanks, Syd.”
The sound of her voice sent recognition slamming through me like a roundhouse kick to the balls.
Caris.
Though her face was bruised and battered, there was no doubt now that it was her.
My heart sputtered and slammed against my ribs as shock exploded through every cell in my body. I knew my eyes and ears were not deceiving me, but my brain was stuck in a continual loop of What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“Don’t just sit there, cut me loose,” she begged. Bewilderment was still sailing through me as Caris narrowed her eyes. “Oh, hell. You’re here to rape and kill me, aren’t you?”
The fear in her voice yanked me from my stunned stupor. “What? Fuck no!”
“Then cut me loose,” she screeched. “So help me god, if you leave me tied to this fucking bed and run out on me again, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
Caris had every right to threaten me, to question my loyalty, and lash me with her venomous wrath. The fact that we’d been a couple of lost kids didn’t exonerate me from what I’d done. Struggling to breathe past the onslaught of guilt pressing in all around me, I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Again? You know this chick?” Ozzy gaped.
“Yeah.”
“Who is she?” Burk asked.
“An old friend,” I bit out as I retrieved a pocketknife from my jeans, flipped it open, and started sawing the rough twine.
“Put your blade away, Boy Scout,” Ross drawled as he tugged an end of the rope. “The cocksucker tied her in quick-release knots.”
Like magic, the rope dissolved from around her wrist. He reached over the bed and made quick work of the other, while Burk freed her ankles. The bloody, torn flesh at her wrists and ankles sent a surge of white-hot rage rolling through my system. I wanted to rip Zattman’s heart from his chest and shove it down his demented throat.
As Caris lifted her arms and started to cover her breasts—scored in wicked bite marks and burns—I gently raised the dirty, blood-stained sheet over her thin body.
“What are you doing here? Besides robbing the place, which makes no sense. Syd Wilson is one of the richest rock stars of all time.” Her bloody lip curled up in a nasty sneer. “What’s going on, Syd? Trying to recapture your youth, or do old habits never die?”
I was surprised and a bit flattered that Caris had kept tabs on me all these years. But what thrilled me to the core was hearing the same snarky sass roll off her lips like it had when we were sixteen.
“We’re here to retrieve something that doesn’t belong to the cockbag who lives here,” I replied. “What are you doing here, angel?”
“Don’t call me that.” She bristled. “I’m not here by choice, as you can plainly see.”
“I know that. I mean…what happened? How did you—”
“Look, I hate to break up your little reunion, but we need to go,” Burk insisted.
“Right. It’s time to leave.” I nodded.
Accusation flared in her eyes as Caris clenched her jaw. “Of course it’s time for you to leave. That’s what you do best, isn’t it?”
I’d long suspected she still hated me, but having it confirmed stung. Truth be told, I hated myself for leaving her. It was the worst mistake and biggest regret of my life.
“You’re coming with us, Caris.”
“I don’t think so, Syd. Look, I appreciate you guys busting down the door and untying me. But as soon as I find my clothes and my purse, I’m out of here.” She lifted her chin defiantly.
“You’re coming with—”
“We don’t have time for a bullshit power play,” Ross barked, pinning me with a glare. “Grab the girl and let’s go.”
After yanking my ski mask over my face, I lifted Caris—filthy sheet and all—off the bed and cradled her thin body against my chest. I ignored her yelp of surprise, her hiss of pain, and her insistent demands to find her purse. What I couldn’t ignore were the host of ancient emotions warring inside—like how she hated my guts but still fit so perfectly against me. Or how the heat of her body still sent arousal coiling up my spine.
As I strode through the mangled doorway and into the hall, the others followed, pelting me with questions I didn’t have the courage or caution to answer. My focus was split between dismissing the perfection of holding Caris again and worrying about getting her far away from Zattman’s house of horror. As I stepped in the foyer, headlights penetrated the tall windows in the formal dining room and slowly panned the walls.
My gut seized.
Adrenaline spiked.
“Zattman’s back,” I bellowed. “Haul ass.”
“Put me down so I can run,” Caris screeched. “That monster’s planning to kill me.”
Gripping her tighter, I shook my head. “I won’t let him hurt you again. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” Her sarcastic scoff felt like a slap to the face. “Not in this lifetime. Or rather, never again. Put me down. Now!”
“N
o. I’m not losing you a second time. I’m getting you out of here.”
A low growl rumbled from deep in her chest as hateful curses spilled off her lips.
Caris was still a feisty, fiery force to be reckoned with. Not that it was going to do me a bit of good. Caris didn’t give second chances to anyone, especially me. She’d trusted me and I’d royally fucked up.
Like a herd of charging elephants, we thundered through the kitchen and out into the inky night. I didn’t look back to see if the last man out closed the door or not. I didn’t care. My brain was fixed on keeping Caris safe and getting to the SUV parked two blocks away.
Crouched behind the perfectly trimmed hedgerow on the side of Zattman’s property, we silently watched him exit his car and enter the house. As soon as he stepped inside and shut the door, we sprinted down the sidewalk, like the hounds of hell were nipping at our heels. Caris sank her nails into my shoulders and held on tight as our boots pounded the pavement.
Half a block from the SUV, sirens started wailing in the distance.
“Faster, fuckers,” Ross tersely growled.
He was only a few feet from the vehicle when he pointed the fob and unlocked the doors. I was huffing and puffing like a porn star, but the physically fit drummer—who worked out every day and wasn’t even winded—climbed in behind the wheel.
The sirens were growing louder as Ozzy dove into the front passenger seat. I was only a couple yards from the SUV as Darren and Burk filed into the back. Veering toward the driver’s side, I cupped Caris’s head, bent down, and slid in next to Darren.
“Go. Go,” Burk ordered, pivoting in his seat to stare out the back window.
“Lose your masks,” Ross instructed, tugging his off and tossing it in Ozzy’s lap.
The rest of us followed suit as the big drummer eased from the curb.
“Why are you driving so slow?” Darren’s voice dripped with urgency.
“You want me to punch on the gas? Smoke the fucking tires? How about I just start honking the horn so the cops will know we’re leaving the scene of the crime.”
The sarcastic reply had no more left Ross’s lips than blue and red strobes lit up the night behind us. Caris tensed and turned a frightened gaze over my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I watched Burk shove the envelopes and some of the cash we’d lifted from Zattman’s safe under his seat.
“Fuck,” Darren barked as the air spiked with fear. “We’re busted.”
“Easy, guys. They’re still blocks away,” Ozzy stated calmly, keeping his gaze glued out the back window. “Ross, get us off this street and out of the subdivision as fast as you safely can.”
As the big drummer grunted, a shiver quaked Caris’s body.
Stroking her back softly, I leaned in close to her ear. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you to safety soon.”
Ross weaved through numerous side streets, putting much-needed distance between us and the cops. But it was several more miles before Caris started to relax. I was more worried about her injuries than the cops. Reaching up, I started to peel back the sheet so I could inspect her wounds. She bristled and tried to cover her wrists, but I shook my head and worked to keep my expression in check as I studied the new blood oozing over several dried layers caking her skin. Caris had fought those fucking ropes, trying to avoid horrors my mind couldn’t comprehend. The thought of her struggling to escape his torture filled me with potent bloodlust. Tamping down my rage, I focused on what I could do to help her.
“Show me your ankles,” I murmured.
“They’re fine. I’ll take care of them later.” She nervously licked her lips, then leaned up toward Ross. “Can you please drop me off at a house in Beverly Hills?”
The drummer darted a quizzical stare at me in the rearview mirror. I answered with a barely perceptible shake of my head. She needed medical attention.
“You live in LA now?” I asked before Ross could respond.
“No. A friend and I are just visiting.”
A male friend, no doubt.
An irrational rush of jealousy flooded my veins while a million questions I had no right to ask crowded my brain. I didn’t have the right to interrogate her, but no way in hell was I going to drop Caris off and drive away without asking a few questions.
“How did you get tangled up with Zattman?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Carl Zattman…the guy who did this to you.”
“Carl? He told me his name was Anthony.”
“It’s not.”
“Did you hire him to represent you?” Ozzy asked.
“She’s not a musician,” I imparted.
Caris scoffed. “Not hardly. I met him at a bar two nights ago.”
“And you, what, just went home with him?” I asked incredulously.
“No, not that it’s any of your business.” Caris scowled. “I didn’t go willingly. Carl or Anthony or whatever that sick prick’s name is put something in my drink.”
That revelation shocked me. Caris had always possessed an infallible intuition. Be it people or situations, she knew when someone or something wasn’t right.
“So…you can’t read people anymore?”
“No, I can read them just fine. Well, most of the time. You and that sick freak have been the only two exceptions, so far.”
Her singling me out along with the likes of Zattman made me bristle.
“I got plenty of weird vibes off the people in the crowded bar, but nothing from him. There wasn’t even an inkling that he was going to drug and haul me out of the club before my friend Monica made it back from the dance floor.”
Monica? The revelation her friend was female filled me with dangerous happiness.
“Did he…”
“Rape me?”
I nodded.
“No. But it was only a matter of time.” The haunted look in Caris’s eyes shredded my soul. “His brand of foreplay was punching, biting, burning, and cutting me. He told me as soon as he was finished warming me up that he was going to fuck me. But I wasn’t supposed to worry. He promised to make it real good for me and make sure the end came with a big bang.”
Revulsion and rage swirled like a hurricane. I didn’t know whether I wanted to punch out the window or tell Ross to turn around so I could go back and kill the son of a bitch.
“We need to get you to a hospital, or to the police,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“How do you suggest we do that without implicating ourselves on that little B and E we just committed?” Darren scoffed.
“I don’t know,” I roared. “But she needs medical attention, and we have to find a way to get that cocksucking motherfucker locked up.”
“Stop!” Caris spat. “Drop me off at the condo. I’ll handle the rest.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Make up a story. Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name. You won’t be the one going to jail.”
I had the distinct feeling there was some hidden meaning in her sassy comment, but for the life of me, I couldn’t decipher what she was trying to imply.
“Does that go for the rest of us or just Syd?” Burk asked.
“All of you. Your fans would kill me if I caused Licks of Leather to be arrested.”
I didn’t give two shits about going to jail. I only cared about taking care of Caris.
Yeah, like the way you took care of her before? scoffed a little voice in my head.
“Can you please just take me to Beverly Hills?”
“Sure, kitten. What’s the address?” Ross asked.
Caris frowned. “I-I don’t remember. I had the address on my phone, but that freak took it, along with my purse and my clothes.” He stole a fuck-ton more than that, angel. “If you can get me to Wilshire and Doheny, I’ll be able to direct you from there.”
“No problem,” Ross replied without even glancing my way.
Asshole. Clearly, he was ready to be rid of Caris. I, on the other hand, was light-years away from letting her sl
ip through my fingers. There was so much I wanted to say…years’ worth of questions to ask. But spilling our secrets and rehashing the past in front of the guys wasn’t an option.
Still, I could feel the time left on our unplanned reunion tick, tick, ticking away. Somehow, I had to buy more time, preferably hours, or days.
My band brothers might understand my juvenile delinquent past, but I was afraid that once I peeled off my mask, they’d never look at me as Syd Wilson—happy-go-lucky funny man. They’d only see me as Sydney Joseph Wilston—the fraud.
While Ross maneuvered through the heavy traffic, I studied Caris’s profile. The scar on her cheek where a foster brother had slapped her with a belt was now a tiny silver sliver. So was the scar above her right eyebrow where her foster father struck her with a beer can. I wondered if all the other wounds she’d carried as a young girl had healed as well or if they were still festering beneath the surface meshing with the lesions Zattman had inflicted.
I prayed the stunning woman poised on my lap, the one who still carried fragments of the girl I’d always loved, was happy now and living the life she’d always dreamed of. But my sixth sense warned we were both wearing masks.
Dragging my gaze over her long dark hair, now tangled and matted, was another gut-wrenching reminder of the brutality she’d endured. The notion of dropping her off, unprotected, sent anxiety spiking and panic squeezing my heart.
I can’t leave her again. Not like this.
Brushing the hair off her neck, I leaned in close to her ear and fought the urge to press my lips to her warm flesh. “Stay with me tonight, Caris. I’ve got a suite at the Beverly Wilshire. I’ll get you some clothes, then take you to the hospital, where—”
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Monica probably thinks I’m dead. We were supposed to fly back home yesterday—”
“Where is home now?”
“Same place it’s always been. Diamond City.”
“You never left Arkansas?”
“No. Unlike you, I didn’t get the chance to leave.” With a singeing glare, she mulishly pressed her lips in a thin line.
