Tortured Skye: A Hawke Family Novel (The Hawke Family Book 2)

by Gwyn McNamee

  Her eyes flutter open and she smiles. “Gabe’s coming?”

  “Yes, he’ll be here soon. Can you get up and walk downstairs with me?”

  A giggle rocks her body, and she shakes her head side to side. “Nuh uh. Not going downstairs. I don’t want to see that jerk. Is he still here?”

  Mike had been out on the front lawn when I first started looking for Star, but that was almost twenty minutes ago; he could be anywhere by now. “No, he left. Let’s get you downstairs.”

  I slide my arm under her and try to help her stand, but she immediately lunges for the toilet and heaves. My own stomach turns, and I swallow the bile back. Her hair hangs down around her face so I lean over her and pull it back, holding it behind her head and rubbing her back gently, just like she’s done for me a hundred times.

  Talk about an ironic swap of circumstances. It feels like I’m in my own version of Trading Places in which Star takes on the role of the irresponsible, irrational, drunk twin, and I the role of the careful, trustworthy, reliable twin.

  Fucking eh.

  Star heaves again, and I pat her back. When she finally stops, I hand her the cup of water and let her wash her mouth out. I’ve been there way too many times and know how nasty it is.

  She falls back onto her butt on the tile and drops her head into her hands with a groan. I sit next to her and wrap my arm around her.

  “Skye?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why did I drink so much?”

  I laugh even though it really isn’t funny. “Because men are fucking assholes.”

  Christy has disappeared. Not surprising. She probably bolted the minute the heaving started.

  Star moves her head over against my shoulder and peers up at me with glassy and unfocused eyes. A smile cracks the corner of her mouth. “Gabe’s not an asshole.” The sing-song way she says it and the giggle that follows make me smile despite the fear churning in my gut that she may reveal something about the way I feel to him in her drunken state.

  “No, no he’s not.” He’s fiercely loyal, strong, compassionate, honest—everything anyone could ever want in a man. And I can’t have him.

  Christy appears in the doorway, her cheeks flushed, and a stupid grin on her face. She steps into the bathroom, and Gabe fills the door behind her. “Look who I found outside.” With a giggle, she turns toward him and places her hand on his exposed forearm.

  Back the hell off, bitch. I peed on him, he’s mine!

  He brushes her hand away without taking his eyes off me and Star. “Thanks for showing me where they were. Have a nice evening.”

  Her face falls at his dismissal, and she huffs and shoves past him, back into the hallway. His luscious lips fall into a deep frown, and he steps closer before squatting down in front of us.

  The soft green of his eyes darkens. He reaches out and brushes hair back from Star’s face.

  “Jesus, Skye…how much did she drink?”

  “Enough.” I can’t bear the disappointment and condemnation in his eyes. He doesn’t even have to say the words. I should have protected her. I never should have let her get this far gone. This is all my fault.

  His eyes hold mine for another moment. My chest tightens under his stare. The brotherly affection I see there makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.

  When will he ever stop seeing me as a child who needs rescuing?

  PRESENT DAY

  How the fuck did this happen?

  I went from being worried about how Savage would react to finding out about me and Skye, to trying to locate her fucking kidnapper.

  I should have known he was a threat. When she told me about how he’s been acting, I should have had a conversation with him and made things very clear. Even if I couldn’t be with Skye, he needed to know she was off limits. She’s only in this situation because I was too stupid to recognize the threat and protect her.

  If anything happens to her, Savage will never forgive me. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

  Damnit.

  This storm is making things a thousand times more difficult.

  Washed out roads and downed trees and powerlines impede my progress at every fucking turn. A drive to Tammany Parish should only take half an hour, but after getting across the Twin Span Bridge, I have to take a dozen detours before I finally reach the area where Lucas’ property is located.

  Just outside Slidell, it abuts Bayou Bonfouca and the Big Branch Marsh Wildlife Preserve. Wind buffets my Hummer, shaking it as I slowly proceed down flooded streets. The driving rain makes it impossible to see street signs or anything beyond a few yards from the road.

  Come on.

  Where the fuck is it?

  I pass a gravel drive on the south side of the main road for the third time. There’s nothing marking it, but there are no other signs of civilization within a half a mile in either direction.

  This has to be it. There’s nothing else out here.

  I run through the plan I’ve already gone over a hundred times during the drive.

  Get onto the property.

  Recon the building.

  Get the fuck in.

  Get Skye the fuck out.

  Right now, I’m acting on instinct and training. I’ve never been more thankful for the U.S. Army than at this moment.

  I ditch my Hummer near the road and dump my wallet and keys into the glove compartment so I’m totally unencumbered and there’s nothing to announce my presence. Then, I proceed on foot into the thick brush and trees leading into the property.

  She has to be okay. There are too many things I need to tell her, things I need to explain.

  Skye’s eyes filled with tears are at the forefront of my mind. I did that to her. I was selfish and let her believe there was a chance for us, then I smashed her to pieces again.

  She needs to know how sorry I am for everything; it can’t end like this. I can’t let her think I don’t love her.

  Damnit, Gabe, you really fucked this up.

  My boots stick in the thick mud and the trees do little to shield me from the pelting rain or thrashing winds. I should be freezing, but the adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream keeps me warm.

  Branches slice at my bare arms and water runs into my eyes as I fight my way through the muck.

  Jesus.

  How far back does this property go? I must have hiked at least a mile and seen no signs of any human activity except the barely-visible drive running parallel to my path. Although, with the wind and thunder, I wouldn’t be able to hear much anyway, and the flashes of lightning are my only guiding light. I can’t risk using a flashlight and alerting him to my presence.

  Deep puddles swallow me up to my thighs in places and suck me down like quicksand. With the bayou and wetlands so close to the property, it could very well be under feet of water before the storm is done.

  Why the hell would he come out here?

  The million and one creepy, perverted things he could be doing to Skye out in the middle of nowhere with no one to hear her screams pushes me forward through the sludge.

  I’m starting to wonder if there is really anyone out here.

  If they aren’t here, I don’t know how I’ll ever find her.

  That thought makes my stomach knot, and I pause for a moment against a tree to gather my shit together. I have to stop thinking like that and concentrate on completing my mission.

  I turn my head and a soft glow appears through the trees in front of me. I approach slowly, creeping along the wet, muddy ground the last several yards until I’m at the edge of the tree-line.

  The cabin sits in a small clearing, surrounded by overgrown bushes and low hanging Cypress trees. The mud-covered brown Jeep parked in front of the cabin matches the description Storm gave me the day he picked her up from her mom’s house. A hazy light is visible through sheer curtains covering one of the two windows.

  There only appears to be one door, at least on this side of the building.

  One way in, and one way out. />
  Movement in the window draws my attention away from my re-con of the surroundings. There’s definitely someone inside.

  Skye’s tear-filled eyes flash before me again. I shake my head.

  Get your shit together, Anderson.

  I can’t concentrate on what I need to do if I have her obscuring my clarity of mind.

  He’s going down, one way or another.

  No way he can fuck with my girl and expect to walk away from this.

  The curtain in the front window parts and the motherfucker’s face appears, pressed against the dirty glass. I recognize him from the photo on the front of his file at the hospital.

  He scans out the window, then up, then back toward the woods just as another crack of lightning rips across the sky, illuminating his face.

  And me.

  It might as well have been a spotlight falling on me, announcing my presence.

  Our eyes meet momentarily, and his widen before the curtain drops, and he retreats into the cabin. No doubt to locate a weapon of some sort.

  There goes the element of surprise.

  Acting now is the only option.

  I move from behind the tree.

  A blinding white light flashes and a boom louder than any IED I’ve ever heard explodes in my ears before the world goes black.

  PRESENT DAY

  Clarity returns slowly, and with it, searing pain and fuming anger.

  Where the hell am I?

  The throbbing in my head is only eclipsed by the agony from my left shoulder. I try to lift my right hand over to check it but something restricts my movement. Cold air surrounds me, and I can’t stop my body from shaking violently.

  What the fuck is going on?

  My arms are stuck behind my back. I tug again and white hot pain radiates through my left arm.

  “Fuck!”

  Shuffling noises come from my left, and I turn my head toward them.

  I open my eyes, or at least attempt to, but warm, thick blood flows down into them and obscures my vision. All I get is flashes of light and movement and extreme dizziness as everything I can see swirls around me like I’m trapped inside a tornado.

  “You’re awake. Good. That will make this much more enjoyable.”

  The voice isn’t familiar.

  I’m wet. I’m cold. I’m bleeding.

  And I’m pretty sure my shoulder is dislocated.

  The sound of rain pounding on a roof and wind howling and rattling the windows registers.

  There was a storm…I was driving in it…where was I going?

  Brief flashes of washed-out streets and flooded roads come to me.

  Then in a split second, my brain finally comes back online and everything clicks into place.

  Skye.

  Lucas.

  The cabin.

  I made it through the woods. I found the cabin. I saw him.

  What I don’t remember is how the fuck I got inside.

  “That lightning sure saved me a lot of effort. If it hadn’t struck next to you and knocked you out, I would have had to fight you. Something tells me I probably would have lost that battle. You are one big dude. It was hard enough dragging you in here.”

  Fucking lightning.

  Even Mother Nature seems to have it out for me. Maybe it’s karma for the way I treated Skye. I guess I probably deserve it.

  I twist my right hand around and reach my fingers up to feel my wrists. My arms are pulled between two slats in the back of the chair and some sort of rope binds my hands together behind me.

  Something cracks me on the side of the head and it snaps back. I breathe deeply and absorb the pain. The room spins when I try to open my eyes. I don’t know what he hit me with, but it certainly wasn’t his fist. The familiar metallic tang of blood fills my mouth.

  “Now, do you want to tell me who you are and why you’re here, or do you need some more motivation?”

  My only motivation is Skye and getting her out of here safely. I listen to his heavy, ragged breathing and search the room for any sounds to indicate where in the cabin he’s keeping her.

  He slams something down and grasps my hair, jerking my face up toward him.

  “Open your fucking eyes and answer me.”

  Although it kills me to give in to his demand, I need to see what I’m dealing with. This time, enough of the blood has dripped away from my eye that I can actually see him, although he’s fuzzy, and I can’t get my eyes to focus.

  His snarling face is mere inches from mine and there’s just enough crazy in his eyes to renew my fear for Skye’s safety. But giving him my name won’t benefit me, or her, in any real way.

  After a few moments, he grins, one of those creepy smiles you always see in photos of serial killers before they were caught.

  “No answer? Well, maybe you thought I was going to be an easy target—all alone out here during a storm. But with the damage the lightning may have done and that dislocated shoulder, not to mention the probable concussion, and the fact that you’re probably borderline hypothermic in those wet clothes, I doubt you’ll make it much longer before you go into shock without proper medical treatment. So, you’re going to need to rethink your plans.”

  No shit.

  He’s not wrong about my predicament. There’s definitely something wrong with my shoulder, and I’ve had enough concussions in my life to recognize that the agonizing headache, memory loss, blurry vision, and a spinning room aren’t a good sign. I’ve also been in these wet clothes for hours, and I’m shivering so hard, my teeth are chattering. Who the fuck knows what being struck by the lightning did to me either.

  He yanks on my hair again but the pain rippling across my scalp barely registers in comparison to my arm.

  “I said, who the fuck are you, and why are you here?”

  My eyes lock with his, and I grin. He has no fucking idea who he’s messing with.

  I clear my throat like I’m about to speak, then spit blood directly in his face.

  Red looks good on him. I can’t wait to see him covered in it.

  FALL 2004

  Gabe glances at me in the rearview mirror for the tenth time since we got Star in the car. She’s already fast asleep with her head in my lap. I run my fingers through her hair and rub her back.

  My stomach hasn’t settled, but it’s no longer from the boozy twin connection. Now, the discomfort is from knowing Gabe wants to say something and anticipating it.

  We stop at a red light, and his eyes find mine in the mirror again.

  Jesus.

  “What? Stop looking at me like that. If you have something to say, just say it.”

  His lips press into a thin line. “We’ll talk when I get you home.”

  Home?

  “No! You can’t take us home. Mom and Savage will fucking kill me for letting her get this wasted. Can’t we crash at your place?”

  He groans and shakes his head. “No, Skye, absolutely not. No way.”

  “But why? You know what will happen if I bring her home drunk. It won’t matter that there’s a good reason or that I kept an eye on her. They will just see it as another reason I can’t be trusted. Mom will probably take my car away.”

  His eyes narrow, and he curses under his breath. The light turns green and two blocks pass in silence. I’m convinced he’s going to say no. Why wouldn’t he? It’s not his job to help me deceive Mom and Savage.

  “You are damn lucky I’m here and a sucker for a woman in distress.”

  Did he just call me a woman?

  Holy shit.

  “Does that mean we can crash with you?”

  Please say yes, please say yes.

  He growls and grabs his cell phone from the cup holder. I don’t get an answer to my question; he just makes a call. “Hey, yeah, I know it’s late. No, everything is fine. I just wanted to let you know the girls are with me and are going to stay at my place tonight. No. I met them out for pizza, and we’re right by my place. No. They left Dana’s house earlier. Right. Yeah. Ok
ay, see you in the morning.”

  I’m surprised his phone doesn’t break with the force he uses to throw it back in the cup holder. “There, now I’ve lied to my best friend for you. I hope you’re happy.”

  I don’t know that happy is the right word. I would prefer if Star wasn’t passed-out drunk. I would prefer if I were spending the night at his place because he asked me to, not because I guilted him into it. I would prefer to sleep with him instead of on the couch or the floor where I know I’ll end up. I would prefer it if he would stop seeing me as a little girl and realize I am a woman now.

  Hell, I’m old enough to be married and already have kids in some countries.

  I would love to say a hundred different things to him. But only two words come out. “Thank you.”

  That won’t be the end of the conversation. Not by a long shot. I know he’s just biding his time until we can get to his apartment and get Star settled in. Then, he’ll unleash on me.

  The remainder of the ride to his building is in silence, only the sounds of Star’s rhythmic breathing filling the car. When we pull into his parking space, he exits and opens my door.

  “I’ll carry her in.”

  I slide out from under her, making sure to gently lower her head to the seat. Gabe hands me his keys with a scowl before he leans in and scoops her up easily. Dejected is probably the proper word for how I feel following behind him. And maybe a little jealous of the fact Star is wrapped up in his arms right now.

  We pause at his door so I can unlock it and then he leads me inside.

  Gabe’s place looks exactly the same as the last time I was here several months ago. The sparsely furnished living room is devoid of any clutter. He isn’t here enough for the place to look or feel lived-in. This is only the second time he’s been home since he enlisted last summer, so he’s lived here all of three weeks in the last year. I don’t even know why he bothered to get an apartment, he knows he could have stayed at our house when he’s here, but he insisted he needed his own space, despite Mom’s protests.

  Without a word to me, he disappears down the hallway toward the bedrooms. I drop down onto the couch and tip my head back.