Only Obsession (Rogue Security Book 3)

by Marissa Garner

  Who the hell had kidnapped her and why?

  Chapter 2

  Luke parked the patrol car at the emergency room entrance to North County Hospital. The glass doors swooshed open, and two nurses hurried outside with a wheelchair and blanket.

  Feeling oddly protective of Ms. Bradley’s privacy, he took the blanket from them before he walked to the back door of the vehicle and opened it. He stopped abruptly and frowned. She had tied his shirt around her head like a scarf. Biting his tongue, he didn’t comment on how weird it looked because he figured it was more to hide her identity than for warmth.

  She held out his cell phone and accepted the blanket. “Thanks.”

  He stared at his shoes while she wrapped the blanket around her waist like a long skirt.

  “I’m not…injured. I don’t need a wheelchair,” she announced.

  Why was this woman putting on a show of strength when it was obvious she was about to collapse? “They’re just trying to help, Ms. Bradley.”

  “I suspect it has more to do with liability.”

  He chuckled. “Cynical much?”

  “You have no idea. And please drop the ‘Ms. Bradley’ routine. I’m Elle. And you are…?”

  “Deputy Helpful, apparently.” He offered her a lopsided grin.

  She huffed. “Real name…on the record.”

  “Okay, for the record, I’m Deputy Johnson.”

  “Seriously? You’ve seen me naked, but you won’t tell me your first name.”

  Damn, did she have to remind him? He’d done his best to erase the nude image of her from his memory. She was a victim, and memories of her slender waist, full breasts, slim hips, and long, long legs—not to mention the tiny patch of curly hair at their apex—had no right to be etched in his brain. But they were. “Well, hell. You’ve got a point. I’m Luke Johnson.”

  “Better.” She eyed the wheelchair with disdain and lifted her chin. “I don’t want that. Out of my way, please.” Drawing a deep breath, she hung onto the doorframe and stood up. After pausing a second, she raised her right foot, but before she could take a step, her left leg buckled.

  Instantly, Luke snagged her arms and hauled her up against him, saving her from a face-plant on the asphalt.

  “I must’ve been running on adrenaline earlier. Being flat on my back for a month has taken all the strength out of my legs,” she said, embarrassment blooming in her cheeks.

  Luke cringed at the gut-wrenching, sexual implications of her statement and felt even guiltier about remembering her tempting body. To ease his conscience, he swung Elle up into his arms, stomped past the nurses, and marched through the automatic doors into the emergency room waiting area.

  Elle gaped at him with an expression he couldn’t quite interpret, but he was probably better off not knowing what emotions lay behind it.

  “You said you didn’t want the wheelchair. You didn’t say anything about being carried,” he said innocently.

  He held her until the nurses reached them and directed him through the double doors and into one of the curtained examining rooms where he set her gently on a gurney.

  She grabbed his arm as he turned away. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  The panic in her eyes caught him by surprise. Her earlier bravado had disappeared, the vulnerable victim beneath now clearly visible.

  “Not a chance. You’ve got my shirt and jacket. I just need to step out and call my boss while they take care of you. He’ll contact the FBI once I tell him who you are.”

  Elle laughed bitterly. “Tell him not to bother. I’m sure Mother has already given the head of the FBI Washington field office an earful even if it is the middle of the night.”

  “Maybe so, but we still gotta call. Since they’re already investigating your kidnapping, this is their case.” Disappointment crept into his thoughts, and strangely, the same emotion seemed to be reflected in her glistening eyes.

  “Sure. I understand.” She turned away.

  Luke hesitated. What was going on with this woman? Why didn’t she want the Sheriff’s Department notifying the FBI? Why had she resisted calling her parents? People reacted to trauma in wildly different ways, but wouldn’t a kidnap victim be eager to talk to her loved ones and to get the highest level of law enforcement involved in solving her case? Something definitely didn’t smell right about this situation.

  He analyzed Elle a moment longer before pushing aside the curtain and strolling back to the waiting area. The room was practically deserted, which was good since he didn’t relish the idea of standing outside in the November chill to call his boss. Especially since he was still shirtless. He found a spot where no one could overhear his conversation and slumped into a chair.

  God, he hated hospitals. The smells. The sounds. The sadness.

  The memories.

  Grimacing, he swiveled in his seat to face the windows as he dialed.

  “What’s happening?” his boss asked immediately.

  “The vic’s name is Elle Bradley, the Elle Bradley. Remember the BOLO from the FBI about a month ago?”

  “You’re sure it’s her, not a wannabe?”

  “Yes, definitely her. I just delivered Ms. Bradley to North County Hospital to be examined. Haven’t interviewed her yet, sir, so I don’t have much info. She said the kidnapper was a man. Doesn’t know his name, and obviously didn’t recognize him.”

  “Rules out the closest-male theory,” Lieutenant Colin Tanner said.

  “And eliminates relatives, friends, and work colleagues. With her being a reporter, she probably has a good memory for names, so he’s not likely even an acquaintance or confidential informant.”

  “Although we don’t always know the names of our CIs.”

  “True, but I think she would’ve recognized his voice even if they’d never met face-to-face. I’ll get you a physical description as soon as she provides one.”

  “Right. Any details on the abduction?”

  Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet. Have they found anything at the crime scene?”

  “A ton of tire tracks and smashed brush. It might’ve been one of those long-haul trucks with a tiny sleeping compartment attached to the cab, you know, where he could’ve kept her stashed out of sight. But I think the measurements taken of the tracks and damage are too small for a semi.”

  Luke frowned. Elle’s burns and bruises indicated she’d been physically restrained. Had she been imprisoned inside some pervert trucker’s cab? Good Lord, what had the woman endured? He shook his head, not wanting to think about the awful possibilities. “Any sign of the bullets, sir?”

  “No. We’ll have to wait for daylight.”

  “Understood. Wish I had more info for you.”

  “Me, too, but I still have to call the FBI. How long are you going to be tied up at the hospital?”

  You’re not leaving, are you? Elle’s words played in his brain. “I want to do a thorough interview. Don’t want the FBI to think we don’t take their cases seriously. May take a while, sir.”

  “All right. I’ll juggle personnel for a couple hours to cover for you but don’t take too long. Just get some good stuff so we can shine for the big boys.” Tanner snorted and hung up.

  “Deputy?” a woman’s voice called.

  He jumped to his feet and nodded at the approaching doctor.

  “We have a problem,” she said after they had exchanged introductions.

  He tensed. “Was Ms. Bradley…hurt?”

  “That’s the problem. I can’t tell,” Dr. Nelson explained, sitting down and letting her head drop back against the window.

  Luke remained standing. “Why not?”

  “She won’t let me complete a rape kit.”

  He gulped. “Why?”

  The doctor shook her head. “Ms. Bradley…Elle…says she wasn’t raped.”

  He exhaled a huge sigh of relief. “Hey, that’s great.”

  “Only if it’s true.” She cocked her head to look up at him. “Patients lie about sexual
assault for many reasons, humiliation and embarrassment among the most common. Some reasons are harder to understand.”

  He frowned. “You lost me, Doc.”

  “Have you ever heard of Stockholm syndrome?”

  “Sure. It’s when—” Shit. No way. He glared at the doctor as though it was her fault, not just her theory. “Are you saying Elle doesn’t want the rape exam because the sex was…consensual?”

  “I’m reaching no such conclusion, Deputy,” Dr. Nelson said coolly. “I’m merely stating a possibility.”

  Suspicion began to simmer deep inside. “Didn’t you see the friction burns and bruises?”

  “You know I did. But they don’t tell me anything definitive. I’ve seen worse on women who enjoy BDSM. Look, Elle says there was no sex, period.” She raised her eyebrows. “Which is hard to believe when a woman has been abducted and held captive for a month. If true, though, you have to wonder why the guy kidnapped her in the first place. But that’s your mystery to solve, not mine.”

  * * *

  Closing her eyes after the nurses finally left, Elle collapsed against the pillows of the hospital bed. Since her transfer to a private room, they had been busy attaching medical equipment, checking her vitals, and generally fussing over her. Even though she’d had a full exam—except for the rape kit—and an IV providing much needed rehydration in the ER, the doctor had ordered overnight monitoring.

  Because she was already severely fatigued from the past month of sleepless nights, the ER process had drained the last of her energy. No longer powered by adrenaline, her body felt limp and leaden. But she couldn’t let her guard down. He was still out there. And he could try to get her again.

  As if to prove her vulnerability, the door opened without warning. She jerked upright and gasped.

  The deputy noticed her surprise and stopped in his tracks. Angling his head, he studied her. “Just me. Were you expecting someone else?”

  The hint of suspicion in his tone puzzled her. “If you’re referring to my kidnapper, I only want to see him in a courtroom.”

  “Well, first we have to catch him. That’s why I need some information from you.”

  Her investigative reporter mode kicked in. “Of course. And I expect to be kept in the loop on everything relating to this case. Deal?”

  “Not my deal to make. Your kidnapping is the FBI’s case. I’m just questioning you while your memory is still fresh as a favor to them. I’m sure someone from the San Diego FBI office will be here by morning,” he said.

  “Unfortunately.”

  Her statement earned another odd look from him, but he didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze swept the room and settled on his jacket and shirt, which were neatly folded and lying on a chair. As he spread his arms to slip on his shirt, his muscles flexed beneath the hair sprinkled across his broad chest.

  Daaamn, the guy was a hunk. Why hadn’t she noticed earlier? Obviously, her traumatized state of mind had blinded her to his good looks. But now, she admired his six-pack abs, firm pecs, spectacular biceps, and wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and hips. Startling blue eyes were encircled with long lashes many women would die for. His blond hair and deep tan gave him a sexy, surfer-boy appearance, intensified by dual dimples. A golden, feathery fringe curled over the edges of his ears, and one wayward strand hung temptingly on his forehead, daring anyone to brush it back into place.

  After buttoning his shirt, his hands automatically went to his belt. Apparently realizing what dropping his pants to tuck in his shirt would expose, he stopped and looked up sheepishly. But when he caught her watching him, he grinned, a twinkle in his baby blues saying he knew she had been checking him out. Annoying heat rushed into her cheeks.

  Leaving his shirttail hanging loose, he removed a pad of paper and a pencil from the inside pocket of his jacket and dropped onto a chair. “You up for this?” he asked, concern instead of humor in his eyes now.

  She drew a deep, fortifying breath to push aside the exhaustion. “Yeah. Let’s get to work.”

  “All right. First, we need a physical description.”

  “He’s about your height.”

  “Okay. Build?”

  “Chubby.”

  “So, six-two and overweight.” He made a note. “Race?”

  “Hard to tell.”

  He glanced up, confusion on his face.

  Elle sighed. “I should explain. The bastard kept me blindfolded and gagged most of the time. When he removed the blindfold, he always wore a ski mask, long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and gloves. The only skin I saw was an occasional glimpse at the space between the mask and the collar of his shirt or between the gloves and shirt cuffs.”

  “He might’ve been hiding identifying marks like tats, scars, or birthmarks.”

  “That’s what I think. From those brief glimpses, though, I’d guess he’s Caucasian, Hispanic, or Asian.”

  “Hair?”

  “His eyebrows were dark brown and his eyes almost black.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Yeah, riiight. How many dark-haired, dark-eyed men live in the US?”

  “Don’t get frustrated. You’ve just eliminated millions of African-American men. That’s a good start. What about his voice?”

  While Elle thought, a nurse came in and began checking the equipment.

  “The guy barely talked, mostly used hand signals, but when he did, his voice was deep.”

  “Accent?”

  “None that I detected.”

  “Lisp? Stutter? Anything unusual?”

  Shaking her head, Elle glanced at the nurse and almost came off the bed when she saw her injecting something into the IV. “What are you doing?” she cried.

  The nurse jumped. “I-I just administered the sedative Dr. Nelson prescribed to help you sleep.”

  Elle’s eyes widened, and her heart rate kicked up a notch. “I don’t want a sedative. I can’t sleep. Don’t you understand? He might get me.”

  “Sorry, hon. I assumed the doctor had discussed it with you. You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep,” the nurse said in a calm voice before hurrying out of the room and closing the door.

  Strong, warm hands grasped Elle’s shoulders from behind. “It’s okay. You’re safe, and you need to sleep.”

  She shrugged out of Luke’s grip. “I’m not safe as long as he’s…out there.”

  He took her hands in his and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “But you’re not going to be here, and the FBI won’t be taking over until morning, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And you’re not authorized to provide protective custody, or whatever it’s called, in the meantime, right?”

  The deputy’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t know why I was kidnapped. Do you?”

  He shook his head.

  “Does the FBI?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t you get it?” She shuddered. “For a month, I lived every minute with the fear that the crazy bastard would rape or kill me. But he didn’t. When I wasn’t gagged, I begged him to tell me why he was holding me. What did he want? What would it take for him to let me go? Money? Publicity for a cause? Fifteen minutes of fame? He never gave me the slightest hint. Until I know why he did it and we catch him, I can never feel safe.”

  Chapter 3

  Unable to fight off the effect of the sedative any longer, Elle fell asleep mid-sentence twenty minutes later. Disappointed the interview had been cut short but grateful for the opportunity to study her undetected, Luke scrutinized the strong woman who’d been terrorized but was determined to get her life back. Finally, the tension had eased, relaxing her features, leaving her even more beautiful.

  When his cell phone vibrated in his pocket, he reluctantly retrieved it, already knowing who was calling. He slipped silently out of the room as he put the phone to his ear.

  “What’d
you learn?” his boss asked.

  Luke repeated the physical description of the kidnapper, what there was of one anyway. Lieutenant Tanner was unimpressed.

  “She also gave me some information about how he’d kept her hidden while they traveled. It explains the tire tracks and brush damage. Apparently, the guy drove a white pickup pulling a large fifth-wheel RV. He kept Ms. Bradley tied to the bed, usually gagged and blindfolded.”

  “Did she get the plate?”

  “No, sir. She tried when she was allowed to get up to use the john or shower but couldn’t see it from where she was in the RV.”

  “How about the make and model of the pickup?”

  “Color was the only detail she could identify.”

  Tanner groaned. “Well hell, at least she gave us something. Learn anything else?”

  “Despite her best efforts to question the asshole, the kidnapper never revealed his motive or goal. She asked me if the FBI knew. I said I didn’t know. What did they tell you tonight?”

  “They don’t know jack shit. There never was a ransom demand, which was what everyone was expecting with Daddy Moneybags. Next on the suspect list were some of her crazies—and she has plenty of lovers and haters. The trail went cold damn fast, and they got nothing. It wasn’t for the lack of trying either. Her fiancé’s father had immediately made the point that Ms. Bradley had likely been transported out of DC; and therefore, the FBI should be involved. He put a lot of pressure on them from the get-go.”

  Luke sighed. The lack of progress on Elle’s case was disappointing, and she’d feel the same way once she was brought up to date. “When will the feds take over?”

  “They already have. You’re done, Johnson. Head on back.”

  “But no agents have shown up yet, sir, and Ms. Bradley has…uh…requested protective custody.”

  “She’ll need to call the Bureau.”

  “I’m willing to stay until an agent arrives.”