by Amy Deason
“The bathroom!” Kirill shouted from behind him.
Racing across the room, Nikolas tried the handle but it was locked too. His first instinct was to shoot his way through the door but he didn’t know where Cadence was on the other side of it and he didn’t want to hit her. With a tight grip on his gun, he raised his foot and kicked at the door. The wood didn’t stand a chance and it split, breaking away easily, allowing him to step inside the bathroom.
His heart lurched to a stop.
Cadence was huddled in the corner with her knees drawn up to her chest, completely immobile. She didn’t even react to the door nearly being torn from its hinges. Blood was splattered on her face and arms. The tiny blue pajamas she wore were dotted with fresh crimson as well.
A man lay on the floor near her feet. His eyes were wide and staring but he wasn’t seeing anything anymore. A thin piece of pink plastic was jutting out from the side of his neck.
“Jesus,” Kirill whispered behind him.
His sentiments exactly. Holstering the gun, Nikolas took a step toward Cadence. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer to her.
She never acknowledged him in the least. Instead her eyes were riveted to the man on the floor.
“Cadence, are you all right?” Nikolas kept his voice soft and steady but inside, his heart had started again and was racing, sending adrenaline through every nerve in his body. Dear Lord, he’d almost been too late. Maybe he still had been.
Cadence turned to look at him, her wide blue and haunted eyes sliding over him. The horror in her face destroyed him. He dropped down to one knee beside her but she turned away, looking at the dead man again.
“Are you hurt?” The thought of anyone hurting her, made his blood run ignite. Anger ran through him, combating the fear in a vicious circle that made him feel off balance. He almost wished the guy on the floor wasn’t dead because he would gladly kill him right now. But Cadence had already done it. And now she wasn’t moving or speaking.
Still crouched, Nikolas turned back to Kirill. “Get him out of here, would you? And take care of the guy on the deck.”
“I’m on it,” Kirill grunted. Stepping in the room, he cast a glance Cadence’s way. The inquisitiveness was back but this time he was wise enough not to say anything. He scooped the dead man up like he weighed no more than a sack of flour and left the room.
Nikolas heard the bedroom door shut as Kirill went out. A lot of good it would do. He’d ruined the door when he had shot through it but it didn’t matter. Nothing had mattered but getting to Cadence. He could have the doors fixed and the bathroom spotless with one phone call once they reached the island. But right now, he had to do something about Cadence.
She continued to stare at the place where the man had fallen, her face pale and lifeless.
Standing, he reached for a towel and threw it on the floor, covering the blood so she wouldn’t have to see it. He bent down, grabbing her arms, and pulled her to her feet. He was expecting a fight but she didn’t resist at all. Not a good sign.
Nikolas touched her cheek and turned her so she was looking at him. Her eyes were wide and staring but she wasn’t seeing him. He doubted she was seeing much more than the image of the dead man burned into her brain.
“Cadence, listen to me,” Nikolas said. “You did what you had to. It’s not your fault.” He wanted to shake her, make her understand but it would only hurt her. And she’d been hurt enough. “Did you hear me? It’s not your fault.”
No response.
“Okay don’t say anything but you’re covered in blood. You need to get out of these clothes. Can you do it yourself, or do you need me to help you?” He shot her a cocky smile, hoping she would snap out of it but she only continued to sit there, not moving, not making a sound.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. Things were definitely not working out the way he wanted them to. The dead were piling up quickly and he was no closer to getting his hands on the formula. And now he had a traumatized girl to deal with too. Charlie was not going to be happy. But he’d deal with her later.
First things first. He had to get Cadence out of these bloody clothes. The thought should have made him happy but it didn’t. Of course he wanted to see her naked, he was a man after all. But not like this. Not while she was so out of it, he couldn’t see the fire leap into those baby blues every time he made a pass at her.
Lifting his hand, he touched the soft, flat skin of her stomach with his fingertips, watching her eyes carefully. They remained glassy and staring straight ahead. Nothing, not even a tremor.
Damn.
Grasping the lacy edge of her shirt, he carefully eased her arms out of it. Pulling it over her head, he tossed the bloody rag into the sink.
His eyes slid over her slowly, taking in the soft curve of her breasts before resting on the rose-colored nipples.
Wow.
His fingers itched to touch them, to put them in his mouth. Maybe he would. That would surely wake her up.
Gritting his teeth against the urge, he gripped the elastic edge of her baby-doll shorts and slid them down past her thighs, over her knees, leaving them puddled at her feet. His eyes ran up the length of her legs, settling on the tiny, pink strip of material she still wore. The thong didn’t cover anything and to make matters worse, he could see right through it. Jerking his eyes away, he hooked his fingers underneath the straps and tugged at them, letting them follow the path her shorts had just taken.
Her blue eyes stared past him as if he wasn’t even in the same room with her. Unable to resist anymore, he gave up the fight and let his gaze slide over her body slowly, greedily taking in each and every curve. He wanted to run his fingers over the creamy, golden flesh completely unbroken by tan lines. He longed to taste it beneath his tongue. She was absolutely beautiful and he wanted her. Really wanted her.
When’s the last time I really wanted someone? Not for a job but just for myself?
He couldn’t remember. Jenika, maybe. But it had never been this strong, this sharp.
Leaning in slowly, he watched her as he closed the distance between them and firmly pressed his lips to hers. When she didn’t move, he prodded her lips open and caressed her tongue with his, hoping for a response. Nothing. It was like kissing a store mannequin. There was no life in the kiss, no heat. He wrapped his hand around her breast, the fullness filling his palm, and squeezed, gently at first then harder. She should have made a sound. A whimper, a cry, something. But there was nothing.
He pulled away, feeling absolutely disgusted with himself. All of this time, he’d been wishing she would keep quiet and do what he told her to. Well he had gotten what he wanted. But damn it, if he wasn’t wishing she would open her mouth and scream at him or push him away. Or something. Anything was better than this semblance of a human being.
It’s okay. She’s just in shock. She’ll snap out of it. You just have to give her some time. It’s not like she goes around stabbing people all of the time.
Yeah of course. She wasn’t like him. She’d never killed anyone before and it had to be traumatizing. His first time sure as hell had been.
Reaching over, he turned on the sink faucet, adjusting the water to the right temperature and grabbed a wash cloth from the shelf. With his eyes still focused on the naked woman in front of him, he ran the rag under the hot water, soaking it. He squeezed out the excess water and began to wipe at the red splatters on her skin. She didn’t even flinch.
Running it gently over her skin, he washed every trace of blood from her face, her arms, even her legs. The whole time she simply stood there, lifeless, allowing him to touch her.
He cursed himself as he washed her. Damn it, he should have never left her in the room alone. But how in the hell was he supposed to know one of the assholes would wander down here? Stupid. That’s what he was. Just plain
stupid. He should have been more prepared. He usually was.
Remorse was trying to hit him hard and though he fought against it, he was losing the battle. He was supposed to be protecting her. But look what had happened. Some top of the line operative he was. He couldn’t even protect a girl on a boat out in the middle of a lake . . .
With the blood gone from her skin, he dried her off briskly before encasing her in a thick bath towel. Leading her into the stateroom, he sat her down on the bed and stepped back. “Get dressed,” he ordered.
She wasn’t even looking at him. Suppressing a sigh, he turned and re-entered the bathroom. Grabbing a fresh towel from the rack, he dropped to his knees and began to wipe up the blood.
Since this was the only cabin on the boat, he couldn’t very well move her to another room but he sure as hell didn’t need her coming in here and seeing this mess again. She’d already seen more than enough to last her a life time. It would be amazing if she wasn’t scarred for life.
Tossing the crimson-stained towel into the hamper, he washed his hands and returned to the bedroom. Cadence was still sitting just as he’d left her, her hands laying lightly in her lap, her eyes staring at nothing.
Holy hell . . .
Okay, she was traumatized. She hadn’t been given a choice. The asshole had been going to hurt her, maybe even worse and she’d done what she had to. Why wasn’t she understanding that?
He wasn’t trying to belittle her feelings. Killing someone was no easy matter. He, of all people, should know. After all, he’d been trained to take lives. And it never got easier no matter how many times he did it. Every time he killed, it took a piece of his soul. It was a wonder he even had one left. So he knew what she was going through. The emptiness, the shock of ending a person’s life, of seeing them die right before your eyes. It was one of the most horrible things in the world.
But she’d had no choice. If she hadn’t killed him, there was no telling what might have happened to her down here. And the worst part is he wouldn’t have even known until it was too late. And the thought stole the breath from his lungs. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer.
Thank God she’d fought back.
Opening his eyes, he turned to the dresser and pulled open the drawers, pawing through the skimpy underwear and clothing.
What the hell?
Was everything in here from Sluts R Us? She’d be better off in the towel than wearing anything out of this dresser.
But of course, what else would anyone think when he’d made the arrangements for the boat. They were used to his typical style of work.
Tired of searching, Nikolas grabbed a lacy thong and an extra-large sleep shirt from the drawer and brought them to the bed. He removed the towel and slipped the panties and shirt over her body. She never moved or made a sound, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. It was pissing him off.
“Say something,” he yelled. “Just one fucking thing!”
Instead of answering, she closed her eyes, shutting him out completely.
“Son of a bitch!” he roared and spun around, kicking the can of soda lying on the floor. The can and what was left in it went flying, hitting the wall. “You killed a man. So fucking what? He deserved it.”
Nikolas dropped down to his knees in front of her and put his hands on her thighs. “Don’t you get it? If you hadn’t killed him, he would have probably raped you. Maybe even killed you. Is that what you want?”
She was silent as ever.
“Shit, maybe you do, considering how empty you feel now that you’ve taken a life. God knows I did the first time I killed someone. But damn it, Cadence, he was going to hurt you and you protected yourself. There is nothing wrong with that.”
He wanted to say something more, something to unfreeze her but there was no point. He could yell and scream at her until he was blue in the face but she would come out of it when she chose. Whenever the hell that was.
Rising, he pulled back the blanket.
“Lay down, Cadence,” he ordered.
With her eyes still closed, she obediently crawled underneath the comforter and rested her head on the fluffy pillow.
Figures, she would listen now.
Nikolas drew the blanket up to her shoulders and looked down at her.
Her face was pale, making the circles under her eyes even darker, like twin smudges of ash. The girl had been through a lot in the last three days and it was beginning to take a toll on her. Even without this last incident, he was betting she would have snapped before long. A normal person could only take so much shit before they lost it although she’d lasted longer than he’d expected.
She is one strong girl . . .
He grimaced against the admiration trying to set in and turned away, intending to leave the room.
He paused at the doorway, casting one last look at the living, breathing doll in the bed. The sigh came from somewhere deep inside him and escaped before he knew it. It was a sigh of frustration, of relief, of God knew what.
Switching off the light, he left the room, shutting the destroyed door behind him.
~ ~ ~
Cadence lay in the dark room with her eyes shut but she didn’t go to sleep. How could she? She’d just killed a man. Jammed a fingernail file straight into his neck, for God’s sake. Behind her closed eyelids she saw the groping hands, the leering smile, the blood.
She’d never killed anything other than a few insects and a snake or two but this was different. She had taken a man’s life. A man who might have had friends, family, maybe a wife and kids. Who knows? How in the world was someone going to explain to them what had happened to him? She could only imagine the pain and anguish they would feel when they got the news.
She didn’t want to think about it. About any of it. But she couldn’t stop. Every detail over the last few days whirled through her head over and over like a silent movie. But the film was stuck on fast-forward, moving so quickly she couldn’t focus on any one of them for more than a few seconds. She was mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted. She had been going too long on too little sleep. But how did you shut your mind off? How did you stop the thoughts from beating themselves against your brain? There was no answer and she was so tired, she wanted to cry. But she couldn’t. Her tear ducts were damned up with a wall of misery.
Perhaps it was better this way. Better to remain isolated, remote. Empty and hollow inside. Completely numb like she wasn’t even there. Her body moved and she was breathing but she didn’t feel anything. And as long as she didn’t think about the man or what she’d done, she would be okay. She could remain in this safe bubble where nothing could hurt her. Where emotions didn’t exist.
The longer she could remain quiet, the more control she had over herself. But if she opened her mouth, she would start screaming. And if she started screaming, she might never stop. It was why she had allowed Nikolas to remove her clothes, to touch her. To bathe her. It should have been embarrassing and uncomfortable but it seemed almost like a dream, like it wasn’t real. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was still asleep and when she woke up, everything would be back to normal. She’d be at home with her dad and life would be good again.
Refusing to face the reality of the last few days, instead she let her mind drift to happier memories. Like the Christmas when she was eight.
Slipping into sleep, she embraced the memory, reliving it. She’d woken her parents up early, not to open presents but to watch the falling snow. It very rarely snowed in Texas but by some miracle, it did that year. Standing at the window between her mom and dad, the three of them watched those big, fat flakes falling from the sky. No one said a word. It was one of the most beautiful and peaceful things she had ever seen.
She had been lost in the moment. Everything around her had disappeared as she watched the white flakes swirling through
the air, dancing on the breeze like some elaborate ballet. She wished to be one of those snowflakes. To be twirling silently to music only she could hear. She continued to stand at the window long after her parents had turned away, listening to the notes playing in her head as the snowflakes danced.
But this time the memory changed. A dark figure was moving in the distance. She couldn’t make out more than a shifting shape. Suddenly she didn’t want to see what it was. She only wanted to be lost in the falling snow. But she had no control and the shape continued to move closer and closer until it stood right in front of her.
Spiky red hair, a leering mouth, and blood pouring from his neck. He raised his hand and pointed a filthy finger at her, blaming her for taking his life.
Oh God! What have I done?
Her eyes popped open as she took huge gulps of air into her lungs. She was no longer eight years old and she was not back home in Texas with her mom and dad. She was in Russia on a boat and she was a murderer. Her stomach lunged and she felt the berries and nuts trying to come up. Leaping from the bed, she ran to the bathroom, hoping she didn’t puke on the floor.
Slinging the door open, Cadence stopped cold. All thoughts of vomiting left her as she stared at the floor. It was spotless, she knew it was. Her eyes told her it was. But she still saw him lying there, dirty and lifeless. His muddy-brown eyes were glazed over and his mouth hung open in a permanent look of surprise. But it was his neck drawing her attention.
Oh God, his neck . . . The pink handle of the fingernail file jutted from the wound, smeared with blood. The dark-red fluid running down, pooling beneath his cold, dead body.
She opened her mouth and screamed.
Chapter 15
Everything had been taken care of. The dead man, his snoring buddy, the phone call to Charlie. With his bare feet propped up on the dash in the wheelhouse, Nikolas tried to relax. This had been a hell of a day and he needed some sleep. It wasn’t likely he would be getting it though. At least not until he got rid of Cadence. But it wouldn’t hurt to try. He had just closed his eyes when he heard the scream. It was a long, wailing scream. A tortured sound.
