Then the dreams would morph into something inherently darker. It wasn’t Shane’s voice whispering to her anymore, it was someone else’s. Shane’s gentle lover’s touch became harder, rougher, almost punishing. She would try to scream, but no sound came out. Her arms and legs were useless; no matter how much she struggled she could not move, held down by an impossibly heavy weight draped over her, battering her already-broken body over and over again as she fought for breath until she was suffocating beneath him.
Just when she thought she couldn’t bear any more, the pain would lift, the heavy weight would ease, and she could breathe again. Then the darkness would return – the blessed, lovely darkness – and shush quietly in her ear, stroke her hair, tell her that everything would be alright. She was safe, she was loved, and all she had to do was let go...
Eventually she’d swim up through the darkness into the light again, and her world was recognizable once more.
In her brief periods of lucidity, Craig was kind, caring, and attentive. He massaged her arms and legs. Made her tea and soup. Read to her when she couldn’t focus on the words herself. Carried her out to the porch for fresh air and to watch the sunset each evening.
But the darkness was always there, lurking just out of sight, hiding in the shadows, waiting for her to succumb and start the vicious cycle once again. It was exhausting.
Craig was taking good care of her, but all she really wanted was to go home. Craig would hear nothing of it. She was safer here, he insisted, away from all the ‘negative influences’. It was clear by now that Craig was quite well aware of the fact that Corinne didn’t like him hanging around Lacie so much, and had alluded to that fact more than once. And they both knew what he thought about Shane’s influence. She’d learned not to mention Shane’s name; it only agitated Craig and made things more difficult.
No, her best option was to bide her time and try to get better. The only way she would be leaving this place was by her own power or on a stretcher. Unfortunately, with each passing day the stretcher was looking like the likelier of the two. Something inside Craig had snapped, and she needed to get him some help. He refused to listen to reason, and actually believed that he was protecting her by keeping her here.
“Craig?” she called out feebly, wondering what was taking so long. He was probably making her tea. He often did after a meal, saying that it would help settle her stomach and relax her. It did. But right now, the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep again. She still had chills from her last series of dark dreams. Unable to recall them clearly – as if her mind was shielding her, knowing it was beyond her ability to cope - she dreaded the idea of falling prey to them again.
A cold shiver ran up and down her spine, punctuating that last thought. She couldn’t dwell on those. It was best to focus on the here and now. If she could manage to stay awake and absorb a little more “reality”, she’d be better equipped to fight her unseen demons.
Taking deep, cleansing breaths – her ribs were feeling much improved – Lacie attempted to shed the residual fear of her dreams and concentrate on her body. Her head still ached, but it was a dull, manageable throb. Ribs, better. Hand, wrist, ankle – sore if flexed – but otherwise manageable. It was too bad her limbs weren’t listening to her. It seemed to take several minutes of concentration before she could get them to move the way she wanted them to.
With much effort, Lacie struggled to sit up. A wave of lightheadedness conspired with her protesting and underused muscles, but she clenched her teeth and breathed through it. There, she thought proudly. That wasn’t so bad.
Once she had silently celebrated her small triumph, gravity and her new position provided her with her next challenge: the increasingly urgent need to use the bathroom.
She called out again. Ah, hell, she thought when Craig still didn’t answer. She could do this. It wasn’t that big of a room. Surely she was capable of making it those few steps to the bathroom by herself. Craig had been helping her whenever she needed to get from point A to point B, but as long as she took it slow, kept one hand on something, it was totally do-able.
Feeling encouraged by the fact that she’d eaten twice today and managed to hold everything down (even if it was only a couple of spoonfuls of broth), she forced her legs over the sides of the bed, giving herself a moment to let the blood flow back into her feet. She winced a little at the pain in her ankle, but was glad for it. It felt like she had been numb for so long, and any little sensation – even the pins and needles firing up and down her calves, was welcome.
Her brief sense of accomplishment shattered quickly a few moments later when she attempted to stand. Apparently sitting up and standing up were vastly different. The room spun all around her; her stomach lurched sickeningly as she felt herself falling.
“Jesus Christ!” Craig shouted, lunging forward to catch her before she crumpled to the floor. “What the hell were you thinking?!”
“I just wanted to go to the bathroom,” she whined, encaged by Craig’s strong arms as he pulled her to him. Temporary panic overwhelmed her, dark shadows lurching up from her subconscious at the close contact. Suddenly she was thrown back into her nightmares, only this time she could move. She writhed and scratched with everything she had, struggling against the evil binding her.
The bindings tightened and squeezed even harder, encompassing her arms and her chest; then another heavy weight wrapped around her legs, subduing them, too, until she could do little more than gasp for breath.
“Fucking hell, Lacie, it’s me! It’s Craig!” he repeated over and over again until her screams died down into choking sobs. Entirely spent, her body went limp in his arms, nothing but dead weight against him.
“Craig?” she sniffled, her voice hoarse and thick.
“Oh, thank God,” he mumbled. “Yes, baby, yes. It’s me. Sssshh, baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, rocking her back and forth. “Jesus, Lacie, what the fuck was that all about?”
He loosened his grip just a little, shifting her into a cradle hold. “A nightmare, I think,” she finally answered.
“Must have been pretty bad,” he said quietly.
“It was ... awful.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight, but nothing could dispel the overwhelming sense of horror that had gripped her.
“Well, it’s all over now, sweetheart. I’ve got you, baby. Everything is going to be alright.”
The words, spoken quietly against her ear, were so familiar. As was the scent. The feel of those muscular arms. The solidity of the chest. No... No... No... It wasn’t possible... Those were just dreams, bad dreams brought on by fever and pain meds. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be. This was Craig. The man she’d known her entire life.
She stilled in his arms as the cold, hard truth tried to force its way into her conscious mind. Were the nightmares her subconscious trying to warn her? Or was it already too late?
“Baby, what is it?” he asked, a frown forming across his brow.
“Bathroom,” she rasped past the terror constricting her throat. “I still have to...”
“Ah, right,” he said, relaxing his grip.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. The words repeated themselves over and over again in her mind. Lacie tried to swallow down the worst of the fear. Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to get her out of here. She tried to take a few deep breaths, wincing when her ribs protested the expansion.
“Easy, baby,” he crooned again. “Slow breaths now, easy. That’s my girl.” Craig’s arms were like steel bands around her, but his embrace was as gentle as she’d ever felt it. On some level, he really did care for her. He wouldn’t hurt her, not intentionally.
She gave herself a mental shake. He couldn’t have done any of those horrible things. They were just nightmares, that’s all. Hallucinations from her fever, the meds, and her overactive imagination.
Weren’t they?
&nbs
p; Lacie looked into the eyes that had been watching out for her as long as she could remember. The boy who had teased her beyond mercy, but beat up every single boy that had ever made her cry, from the playground bully in first grade to the prom date that dumped her the day after he’d gotten her drunk and took her virginity. It was always there, but her mind would never allow her to see it.
She swallowed the scream that wanted to erupt from her throat and forced herself to speak. “Will you help me to the bathroom please?”
Craig’s face broke into a worried grin. “Of course, Lacie. Always. Anything.”
He carried her to the bathroom, getting her situated while catering to her modesty. He offered to stay, but she convinced him that she was awake and capable of managing on her own for this small but necessary task. With a doubtful look he agreed to remain outside the door, just in case.
At least he was affording her some privacy. Lacie said a silent prayer of thanks for that. It was impossible to look into his eyes and believe he was capable of any of those things.
But he’s not the Craig you know anymore, whispered a tiny voice in the back of her mind. The Craig she knew might openly (and loudly) disagree with her choices, but he wouldn’t whisk her away and keep her from her family and friends.
She only just managed to grab the trash can before the soup made a quick and sudden reappearance.
* * *
Craig waited outside the door. What the hell had happened? One minute Lacie appeared to be dozing peacefully after finally managing to eat a little something, the next she was biting and scratching at him like she was fighting for her very life. It was scary as hell.
Things were going to have to change. He was going to have to start weaning her off the pills, no doubt about it. She simply wasn’t strong enough to handle them. He was getting fluids into her, but without solid food, she had to have dropped at least five pounds in the past week, and he didn’t want her skinny. He loved her soft, feminine curves. He was looking forward to having her awake and actively participating in their lovemaking.
It wouldn’t be long now; she was definitely coming around, just as he knew she would. These last few days she had been noticeably more compliant. Today she had actually eaten something and had even asked him outright to help her! That was definite progress.
That latest episode was worrisome, however. The way she had looked at him! For several moments, it had been as though she was terrified of him. But she had no reason to feel that way. He loved her. He would do anything for her. Surely she had to realize that by now.
He heard her retching and cursed, bursting through the door without bothering to knock. He cursed again as he held her hair and stroked her back. His poor Lacie. He hated seeing her suffer.
When nothing remained but dry heaves, Craig took off his shirt, socks, and shoes but left his jeans on. He stripped her, then carried her into the shower. He kept it all very quick and efficient; this was no time for play. He expected an argument, but when none was forthcoming, he counted that as yet another positive sign. He refused to consider that she had simply become too ill to protest.
Craig dried her carefully, dressed her in clean fresh clothes, then scooped her up and carried her back to bed. After changing out of his own wet jeans, he joined her, brushing out her hair.
By the time he was finished, she still hadn’t said a word, nor had she resisted him in any way. He might have been dressing a rag doll. “There,” he said, sitting beside her. “I bet that’s better, huh?”
Lacie didn’t answer. She just continued to stare at her hands resting in her lap.
“Lacie, baby?” He tucked her hair behind her ear. The pallor of her skin was alarming. “How do you feel?”
* * *
“Lousy,” she mumbled. “Dizzy. Weak.” Confused. Afraid.
“Worse than before?” he asked, frowning.
Worse? Yeah, it was worse. Infinitely. She nodded, avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look into those brown eyes and see the truth. She couldn’t face it. She couldn’t. Because that would mean everyone had been right, and she had been wrong.
And she had allowed this to happen.
“Do you still want to go outside? I know how you like the rain. I’ll make you some tea, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Craig kissed the top of her head and left her alone.
Lacie laid her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes. The tea. Is that how he was drugging her? It certainly couldn’t be what she was eating. Her stomach cramped, reminding her of just how true that was.
What was she going to do? She needed to remain lucid, find a way to get help. What would he do if she refused the tea? Would he just put the drugs in something else? What if she asked him to stop the pain meds again? Would he?
The waves of nausea hit her again as she tried to wrap her mind around it all. Shame, disbelief, confusion, hurt, betrayal – they all warred for most powerful emotion at the same time.
It was simply beyond her comprehension. How could the man she’d known her entire life – her self-appointed big brother, her protector – the same man who had been taking care of her with nothing but tenderness during her waking hours – do something like this?
Her mind grasped desperately for another explanation. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe they really weren’t warnings, but nothing more than bad dreams, made to seem real because of the drugs on her battered system. That could happen, couldn’t it? After all, there were other side effects, weren’t there? Nausea, vomiting, blurred vision, slurred speech, dizziness, cramps. She didn’t know what day it was or how long they had been there. How could she trust anything her mind concocted?
The bottom line was that she really couldn’t be sure of anything. Could she vilify him based on nightmarish images recorded in a dream state when every waking moment he had been sweet, kind, and caring? No, she couldn’t, she decided, not without proof. Craig might be misguided, but his intentions were still good. The sick feeling in her stomach eased a little. Where was her faith?
But she wasn’t a complete fool, either. As much as she did not want to accept the possibility, she had to face the fact that she didn’t know. It was now more imperative than ever that she keep her wits about her until she could get out of here on her own, or at least find his cell phone. There had to be some way to communicate with the outside world.
Which brought up another problem. Assuming she could find a way to contact Corinne or Shane, what would she tell them? She had no idea where Craig had taken them. From the little bit she had seen of the surrounding area, it was very remote; their hadn’t been any sign of other people – no cabins, no roads, no steeples in the distance or tendrils of wood smoke curling up into the sky.
What had Craig told her? Something about an uncle’s cabin? It wasn’t much, but maybe it would be enough for them to go on. Craig never talked much about his family, but Lacie knew his home situation hadn’t been very good. It was one of the reasons why he was always hanging around their house when they were kids.
She was kept from musing further when Craig reappeared. “Ready, baby?”
Feeling a bit braver, and a whole lot more determined, Lacie looked up into his face, saw the genuine concern etched there. She did her best to give him a weak smile. It was enough. He beamed back at her, and Lacie knew that she had just bought herself a little more time.
One way or another, she was going to find out the truth.
Chapter Nineteen
Kane spread the detailed map out on the large wooden table top while Rebecca made a fresh pot of coffee and their infant daughter napped quietly in the back room.
“He’s here,” he said, his deep voice rolling like thunder as he pointed to what was clearly a cabin in the photo-quality satellite map. “The place is owned by a Roger Crawford.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?” Kieran asked.
“Roger Crawford is one of the missing men from Davidson’s unit,” Shane said, shifting his weight. It was the onl
y indication of his impatience. He pinned his eyes on Kane hopefully. “You’ve seen her?”
Kane straightened slowly and regarded his younger brother. Shane was big, but Kane dwarfed him. “Yes.”
Shane shifted his weight back to his left leg. “And?”
Rebecca appeared between them, her hand resting lightly on Kane’s lower back. His eyes softened just a little; it was her way of calming him. Kane exhaled. He would not reveal everything he had seen during his earlier recon; the last thing he needed was Shane going totally batshit and rushing in fueled purely by blind rage, which was exactly what was going to happen if Kane told him what he had seen. Lacie didn’t seem capable of moving around on her own. The few times he’d observed her out of bed yesterday, Davidson had been carrying her. Exactly why, Kane couldn’t say; either Lacie was very sick or she was being drugged. Shane wouldn’t take either possibility well.
It would have been his preference to say nothing now and spare him the grief. There would be enough time for the truth of it once they had Lacie safely in their hands. However, Rebecca’s gentle touch reminded him that it was Shane’s croie they were talking about here, and therefore, one of their own.
Shane needed something to hold on to. But what could Kane tell him that wouldn’t rip out his heart? Even Kane had to stop himself from rushing down into the cabin and retrieving her himself when he had seen how visibly weak she was. As much as he’d wanted to, he knew that it was better to wait until his brothers arrived. Davidson was an unknown, and he was staying very close to Lacie. In her current state, she wouldn’t be able to help at all. Since she didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger, the safest option was to sit tight. Given the guy’s mental instability, it was highly likely that Davidson might decide that if he couldn’t have her, then no one would.
“She was on the porch last night, watching the sunset,” he finally said, choosing his words carefully. “Davidson doesn’t leave her side for a minute.”
Beyond Affection: Callaghan Brothers, Book 6 Page 17
