Castle Investigations Box Set

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Lucas felt like an ass. He had taunted Scarlett for the last couple of hours, desensitizing her to the harsh world she knew nothing about. As he called her names and acted as if he would touch her inappropriately, he hated himself. Hated that he sounded like that bastard.

  He could hear him outside the door. Yelling at her. Calling her filthy names. Whore. Slut. Lucas stood outside Laura's front door. He needed to get her out, but wasn't sure how to do that without making the situation worse. Since Maryanne had left, Laura now took the full brunt of her father's drunken tirades.

  He heard her crying. Hated that he wasn't a full-grown man, so he could just take her away from all of this. She stayed at his place most of the time, to escape. To hide.

  "Please don't, daddy! Please!" He heard a smack, and her cry of pain shot through him like a bullet.

  He tried the door—locked. He could hear her sobbing, crying for help. He pounded on the door. "Leonard! Let me in. Leave her alone!" he shouted, doing his best to draw his attention.

  Heart-wrenching sobs echoed off the walls. He kept beating on the door, kept trying. He stepped back and ran towards it, trying with all his might to break it down. He was a skinny kid, though, and hadn't grown into his body quite yet.

  Over and over he hit the door, his arm numb from the impact. He could hear her screaming, hear her pleading. Tears fell from his eyes. Sobs wracked his body. He was helpless to save her. Powerless to do anything but wait till it was over.

  His pounding turned into knocking, hoping that at some point Leonard would get mad and open the damn door. A few short minutes later, the door opened, and Lucas fell inside. Leonard was standing there, his pants unzipped, a drunken stupor on his face.

  "She's all yours now, boy," he snorted, and, hitting his shoulder against Lucas's, he walked out the door.

  On the couch, Laura lay curled up on her side, facing the cushions. Her pants were around her ankles. The sobs sent shudders through her body. He wanted to kill that bastard, and he would, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  "Lucas! Lucas!" Scarlett's voice broke through the memory. Her face wore an expression of compassion and concern. Her hands were on his face, holding his head steady as she tried to get his attention.

  "Where'd you go?"

  "The past," he said and stood up to pace the floor again.

  "What happened to her?" He stopped and turned towards her. He didn't want to taint her view of him, didn't want to disappoint her. But he was falling hard, and if she was going to run away, he needed to know that now. He took her hand and led her back to his bedroom. He motioned for her to sit on his bed, and she complied.

  "Laura was my best friend, my girlfriend in later years. We grew up together, lived on the same hall. Your diner—that was our place. We hung out there nearly every day to escape. To keep her away from him." Lucas paused, taking a deep breath, steeling his nerves.

  "Her dad was a drunk, but mostly he just cussed her out and pushed her around. He never really hit her or anything—at first." He stopped pacing and faced the window. He ran his hands through his hair.

  "That was, until her sister Maryanne moved out. When she left, Laura gained his full attention. We didn't realize what Maryanne had endured until that day." He walked over to the bed and sat, dropping his head into his hands. The guilt was overwhelming as he remembered his helplessness.

  "I heard him. I was walking back from the store and had stopped to get Laura to take her to my place. He was drunk. I could hear him calling her names, and then she started screaming. He raped her. His own daughter. I wasn't strong enough to break down the door, but I tried. Believe me, I tried. When it was over, he opened the door and let me in, a smug smile on his face as if to say, I had her first." He raised his head and found Scarlett's gaze, tears running down her face. He didn't want her pity, didn't want her to feel sorry for him. He didn't deserve it. Angry at himself for being so weak, so cowardly, he sprang up from the bed and paced again.

  "I'm so sorry," Scarlett started.

  "She was never the same. After that, the light was gone from her eyes. My mom let her stay at our house. She slept in my room every night, but I couldn't touch her. A couple of months later, I ran into some trouble with my friends. The same guys that work with me now, except Ethan. We made a plea bargain to avoid jail time, and our sponsor saw to it that we were set up with successful military careers."

  He paused. Ashamed that he had fared so well, when Laura had depended on him, and he had failed her.

  "I came back after basic training. My mom worked three jobs to make ends meet. I came home to bring some money back. I thought Laura would still be there, but she wasn't. She'd moved in with Damon. I ran through the streets to Damon's apartment. When I got there, he let me in, a smile on his face that told me he'd had her. She was on his couch, needle tracks up and down her arms. Heroin."

  Scarlett's gasp nearly broke him. He faced her—faced the accusation he knew he deserved.

  "He got her hooked on drugs, and then when she couldn't pay, he pimped her out to pay for her stash. I tried to get her to leave with me, to come home. But she wouldn't. Said she didn't deserve to be happy. I had to leave her. She gave me no other choice. A month later, during my call home to my mom, she told me that Laura had overdosed on heroin. They think she killed herself."

  Scarlett jumped off the bed and rushed towards him. He was sure she was going to reject him. Sure she would hate him for his failure.

  She took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes, the tears there intensifying the green color and making them sparkle like rain on a blade of grass. "You are not to blame. Do you hear me? There was nothing you could do. You were a child, Lucas. A teenager. No one blames you."

  He tried to jerk away from her touch, but she held on tight. "Listen to me. You're a good man. And you're helping people now—you're making a difference. How many have you rescued?"

  He dropped his gaze. "I'm not sure."

  "Sure you are," she countered.

  "Sixty-five with Castle. Many more with the Air Force."

  She pulled his face down to hers, their lips a breath apart. "Stop blaming yourself. Don't you see? She loved you. She wouldn’t want you to carry the blame. It wasn't your fault."

  She kissed him then, slowly and tentatively. He let her set the pace, following her lead. She deepened the kiss, her arms grabbing at his shoulders, and pressed herself closer to him. His need for her became almost unbearable, and he dove in, taking her mouth in a desperate kiss. She met him stroke for stroke. His hands went to her shirt, and he slipped it over her head, revealing a camisole underneath. He wanted to feel more of her skin. He took his own shirt off and pushed her towards the bed.

  Following her, he climbed up her body like a predator stalking his prey. She smiled, and he captured her lips again, knowing he could kiss her like this forever. He'd never tire of her.

  The thought made him pause. Forever?

  He cherished her, wanted her. But he wasn't going to take her like this, while her sister was missing.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing. We need to get some sleep." He couldn’t miss the look of hurt that crossed her face.

  "Oh." He could see the confusion there—the rejection—but he wasn't ready to reveal his thoughts, his feelings for her. It wasn't the right time. And he wasn't sure he could do this again—care for someone. What would happen if he lost her?

  He rolled to the other side of the bed, pulling her on top of him. "Get some rest. We've got a long night ahead of us." He kissed the top of her head as he felt her relax. She might not understand, but at least she wasn't running from him. Maybe he would find redemption after all.

  Scarlett woke a couple of hours later to Lucas kissing her face. He placed a kiss on each of her cheeks first, then her forehead, and he brushed kisses on her eyelids, her nose, and finally her mouth. She parted her lips, inviting him in, the need for him pooling in her belly. Just as the kiss became frenzied, however, Lucas
pulled away, once again raining chaste kisses on her face.

  "Did I do something wrong?" she asked. She knew she wasn't very experienced, but she’d thought she had kissing down, at least.

  "No. I just don't want to start something we can't finish. And when I have you, I want all of you. Mind, body, and soul." His gaze was intense, searching her eyes for something, but she wasn't sure what.

  She met his stare and then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. "Ok." She smiled as the worry left his eyes. He was worried she didn't want him. Worried she would reject him. She reached out her hand as he pulled her up off the bed. Lifting herself up on her toes, she circled her arms around his neck, pressing her head to his chest. "I'm not going anywhere, Lucas. And when this is all over, we're going to talk about whatever this is between us. But for now, let's go get my sister." She lifted her eyes to his and saw the same determination in them that she felt. He nodded, squeezing her a little more tightly to his chest.

  "Let's go, then. Isabel should have something for you to wear."

  "Something for me to wear?"

  "Gotta dress the part, right?" His eyes were teasing as he ushered them down the hallway and knocked on Isabel's door. She opened it, revealing a large room, much bigger than Lucas's, with a flat screen TV gracing one wall and a hot pink velvet tufted sofa placed in front, resting on a zebra striped rug. The walls were a light pink, almost white. A white antique chandelier hung from the ceiling, and a gray upholstered headboard, with rhinestones in each buttonhole, rounded out the girly décor. Scarlett's jaw dropped as she took in the room's opulence. "This is—gorgeous!" she exclaimed, feeling like a little girl.

  "It is, isn't it? The guys have spoiled me rotten. None of us grew up with anything, so when we built this place, the guys gave me the best room. They all live like bachelors, so they knew I'd want a space of my own. They made all my childhood dreams come true with this bedroom." She looked down, almost like she was embarrassed.

  "It's beautiful," Scarlett reassured her.

  "I know it's silly, but I love this room. Wait till you see the bathroom." Isabel ran towards two French-style doors and opened them wide. Scarlett followed behind her, taking in the large Jacuzzi tub, the stand-alone shower big enough for four people, and the double vanity with raised sinks.

  "Oh my gosh! I'd never leave here if this were mine!"

  "I didn't come out for days when I first moved in. Sully thought something was wrong with me." Isabel tossed her hair over her shoulders as she giggled.

  "Come on, let's get you dressed."

  Isabel shooed Lucas out the door, saying she'd let him know when she was done. Scarlett followed her over to a large mirror propped against the wall. An upholstered bench sat in front of it, with a huge walk-in closet next to it. Isabel disappeared inside the closet and came back moments later with a scrap of fabric.

  A scrap. That's all it was. "How does one even wear something like this?" Scarlett asked, suddenly worried about her role in this operation.

  "It covers the essentials, I promise. But it will make you look the part. I'll give you a wedge heel in case you need to run in them. Stilettos would only slow you down. Now step into the closet and put this on. Let me know if you need help." Isabel thrust the scrap into Scarlett's hands, pushing her inside, and closed the closet door behind her.

  Scarlett cringed but pulled off her clothes. She stepped into the dress, the skirt rising up to her hips. She pulled two more scraps of fabric out, realizing it must be a halter top, and tied it behind her neck.

  Her bra had to go, so she took it off and tossed it on the pile with her other clothes. She spread the fabric over each breast, realizing that it left a path from her throat to her navel. She had bathing suits less revealing than this dress.

  She stepped out of the closet, and Isabel turned around. She clapped her hands in front of her face, hopping up and down. "Oh my gosh, Lucas is going to have a fit!"

  "I heard that!" came a voice from the other side of the door. "Let me in."

  "Hold your horses. I'm not done with her yet."

  Scarlett stepped in front of the mirror, and the desire to cover herself was overwhelming. The skirt stopped right underneath her butt, and, sure enough, there was a stripe of skin right down her middle. Her breasts were accentuated by the slinky fabric, and she could see her nipples poking through. Well, she just hoped she wasn't cold while she was wearing this thing.

  Isabel went into the closet and came out with a pair of black wedge heels. They weren't very tall, but they accentuated her legs, making her look much taller than her five-foot, four-inch frame.

  "Now for the hair. Unfortunately, this is where it will get tacky," Isabel said.

  "And this isn't tacky?"

  "No, that is hot! Now, have a seat in the bathroom." Isabel pulled out a stool from under one of the vanities, and Scarlett sank onto it, realizing as she did so that the skirt rose up dangerously high.

  "How am I going to sit in this thing without flashing everyone?" Scarlett asked.

  "Just keep your legs together," Isabel said and winked. Scarlett's face turned pink as she gazed at her face in the mirror.

  Isabel pulled her hair up, teasing it into a high ponytail. She then smoothed it out, creating height at the crown. She wrapped a strand around the band and teased some more so that it looked like a waterfall sprouting out of her head. Scarlett caught Isabel's eye and raised her brows. "Really?"

  "Yep. It screams cheap, doesn't it?"

  Scarlett sighed, resigning herself to her role. She'd do anything to save her sister.

  Lucas paced outside Isabel's door. Just as he was about to knock again, she flung it open, standing in his way.

  "Where is she?" he asked, not sure why he was so anxious to see her. It felt like she was lowering herself, becoming a part of this world that he wanted to protect her from. Isabel stepped aside, revealing Scarlett wearing two strips of black silk over her breasts and what looked like black bandages wrapped around her hips, barely covering her ass. Her legs looked a mile long, and her hair—well, it looked ridiculous. He admitted Isabel had done a good job. Too good a job.

  "I said make her look believable, not look like a tramp," he said gruffly. Scarlett's face fell, and he realized he'd hurt her feelings. He was sure she felt vulnerable and unsure of herself, and he'd just sealed that in her mind.

  Isabel's harsh stare made him feel hot around the collar. He walked in and took Scarlett's hands. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

  "I'm sorry. You don't look like a tramp, it's just—there's so much skin. And I know what those men will be thinking when they look at you. It's going to make me want to bash their heads in." A tentative smile graced her lips, and he leaned in and pressed a kiss to them.

  "You look stunning. Sexy. And I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you," he whispered in her ear so that only she could hear.

  "If you're good, maybe I'll wear this for you when this is all over."

  He grinned down at her, his eyebrows lifting. He pulled back, still holding her hands as he let his gaze roam over her body. "Cold?" he asked. She jerked her hands from his and covered her breasts. He threw his head back with laughter, putting his arm around her and moving her towards the door. "I'll get you a coat," he said.

  "Not funny." She slapped him on the shoulder and pretended to pout, but he could see the smile breaking through.

  Chapter 10

  The sound of a padlock being removed, and the crate door opening, roused Em from her fitful rest. Her head still felt heavy from the drugs they'd given her earlier, and her neck was sore from the tattoo man's hands around her throat.

  Someone grabbed her ankle, dragging her out of the crate. As her legs extended, intense pain wracked her body. It was much worse than the pins and needles that happened when her legs had been in one position for too long. She cried out in pain as the man forced her to her feet. Her knees buckled, and she fell, busting her lip on his knee as she went down.

  Rough han
ds grabbed her under her arms and pulled her to her feet, holding her up and making the blood rush painfully to her feet. Over the tattoo man's shoulder, she could see Damon standing inside the door, watching with a sick smile on his face. She wanted to fight, but the pain was so intense that she couldn't do anything but cry.

  As he laid her on the bed, she used her body to roll away from him, scooting and pushing as best she could. She knew it was hopeless—knew they'd catch her. Two sets of hands grabbed her and held her down.

  She shook her head violently back and forth. This wasn't happening to her. It couldn't be happening to her. She longed to wake up and have all of this be a bad dream. A callused finger traced a line down the side of her face, where her tears were flowing freely.

  "Shh. It's ok. I'll give you something to make that pain go away," Damon crooned in her ear as if she were a baby, and he a doting father. The creepiness of the moment wasn't lost on her. She felt the tight rubber band pinch her skin.

  "Wait, no. Please don't." She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but she was too weak. "Please. Please don't do this."

  Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

  A needle pricked her arm, and a burning sensation moved up her arm. She cried out, trying to pull her arm away from the needle. Trying to keep whatever he'd put in her veins from reaching the rest of her body.

  He released the band, and in seconds, her body was flooded with warmth. She felt cozy, like she was sitting in front of a fire drinking hot cocoa at Christmas time. The pain in her legs, lip, and body faded away. She opened her eyes to the faces of her mom and dad.

  "Mom? Dad?" They laughed and walked away. She knew she should probably be sad that they were leaving, but she just couldn't feel anything but euphoria.

  * * * *

  Scarlett pulled the coat more tightly around herself as the chopper's blades womp-womped on the roof of the warehouse. Lucas pulled her more tightly to his body as they ducked, being careful of the propellers above, and helped her into the helicopter. Buckling her in, he placed headphones over her ears as she slid in next to Gabriel and Ethan, who were already there. Up front, Sullivan sat riding shotgun. All of them were dressed in black from head to toe. Weapons were draped across their bodies, and the weight of what they were doing—the danger they would be in—settled around Scarlett's shoulders like a heavy blanket.