by Fox, Logan
He felt dirty too.
We defiled her, a voice snickered inside his head. We tore out her virtue and smeared it over our—
“Why?” was all he could wrangle from his stiff throat.
She jerked, but didn’t look back at him.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Then she did look at him. Brows almost touching, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. Gone was bright and sunny Cora.
You stole her innocence.
“Does it matter?” If she was trying to sound flippant, she failed dismally. Her voice shook, and her eyes were brimming when she faced away from him.
“Course it fucking matters.” He swiped a hand through his hair, hating the way the hot water was misting up around her. Coils of vapor caressing her. Touching her like he wanted to touch her.
“It only hurt a little.” The lie made her voice tight and unsteady.
“Jesu—” he broke off and stormed back to the campsite. He couldn’t keep watching her bare naked back, how her spine ridged under her skin.
They had to get out of here. Back to reality. The fresh air was making him nauseas. The—
His hands were still coated with her virginal blood. He padded over to the closest rock pool, shielded from Cora by the lone boulder, and washed his hands. The pool was murky with blood and cum when he was done. It disgusted him, but not as much as he disgusted himself.
Cora came around the bolder, naked as the day she was born. He looked away, pressing his eyes closed in the hope it would rid him of the afterimage of her body.
It didn’t.
Her footsteps stopped. “Finn?”
He swallowed hard. Pushed a mental warning her way. Don’t come closer.
But she did. And, honestly, he should fucking know by now that they weren’t telepathic.
Her voice trembled. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” he bellowed, standing and spinning to her so fast she took two hurried steps back from him and crossed her arms across her breasts.
And then he saw the marks on her. Big, bright—
beautiful
—bruises where he’d grabbed her. Her hips. Her wrists. Her neck. Her bottom lip was slightly swollen. His was too, but that wasn’t the point. She’d scratched him like a wild cat, but it didn’t fucking matter.
You liked it when she fought back. Liked to make her think she could win.
And then he wanted to throw up, because no one who looked like Cora Swan could have been consenting to anything. Her eyes swam with unshed tears. Then she was backing up and collapsing in on herself as she hunted in the sleeping bag for her clothes.
Because he was still staring at her naked flesh like he had some kind of fucking right to.
You do. She’s yours now. Take her again, take her now—
He looked away. Pressed his eyes closed with his fingers. Tried to urge air into his lungs. Fuck this — he was taking her to Javier. He couldn’t spend more time with her. Not after this.
He laughed, but it was a sick and twisted sound. “I can’t protect you anymore,” Finn said.
The words burned like acid, but they were out and said; he couldn’t take them back.
27
Ms. Swan
Cora stared at the back of Finn’s head, absently tugging her t-shirt over her breasts. Her bra was too wet to wear, but she’d put on her underwear; going commando in jeans would chafe too much. Her mind reeled at what Finn had said, but she managed to work enough spit into her mouth to free her tongue.
“What?”
Not the strongest argument, but it was a start at least. Her ears buzzed as she stepped closer to Finn. His eyes caught light from somewhere, cold and blue as melting ice.
He snarled at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
And, just like that, his anger snuffed out. His shoulders relaxed, and he took an almost casual step closer to her.
She straightened, hope flickering pathetically inside her. “I should have told you. I didn’t think it would matter. I thought—”
He seized her chin in a hand. Squeezed her hard enough to make her cry out. She grabbed his wrist, trying to pull him free, failing.
“You’re hurting me,” she hissed through her teeth.
“It’s what I do,” he rumbled. “Look at yourself!” Yelling now.
He shook her and then released her as if she’d scorched him.
Her mind felt like spaghetti left in a pot overnight. Tangled. Congealed. Slimy. She looked down, blinked, stared at the bruises on her body.
“It’s what I do.” Finn shook his hand like he was trying to flick away her touch.
She grabbed up her jacket and hurriedly slid into it, covering the bruises on her wrists. Zipping it up so her blood-stained t-shirt wasn’t visible anymore. “You weren’t—”
“You wanted me to fuck you, so I fucked you.” The word lashed like a whip.
She flinched, and his face twitched like he hadn’t expected her reaction.
Then he turned to marble again. “Now I’m taking you to Javier like I was supposed to in the first place.”
“You said it wasn’t safe.”
“Like you’re any safer with me, Ms. Swan,” Finn shot back with a twist to his lips.
Furious heat piled into her. “What, I’m not Cora anymore? You only call me that when you—” she swallowed, trying to will her tongue to make the word, but she couldn’t “—when you’re screwing me?”
His lips lifted in a grimace. He reached for her, but she evaded him with a twist of her shoulders. She’d slipped her Taurus into her jacket pocket before their hike yesterday — she ripped it out and aimed it at Finn’s chest.
He stopped walking, face freezing with a faded sneer on it.
“You’ll take me where I want to go,” she said in a measured voice.
“And where do you want to go, princess? Huh? Where?” Finn lifted his hands like he was trying to soothe a trapped animal. Which she was. Nothing but a trapped animal. Her lips twisted. A sudden pressure behind her eyes made her blink furiously. She forced her arms straight so they would stop making the sight of the Taurus tremble. “Paris.” As soon as the word left her mouth, she wanted it back.
Finn’s lips curled into a smile.
It was the first time she’d seen him smile, and it wasn’t pleasant. He gave her a lazy, condescending scan with those piercing eyes of his. She felt naked in front of those eyes. Like a child of six again. Saliva flooded her mouth, and she swallowed hard to keep the bile rushing up her throat at bay.
“Paris? Do you realize you have to get on an airplane for that?”
His words hurt more than anything — anything — she’d ever felt. She lowered her gun, every last shred of energy rushing out of her. Like that man’s blood had drained from him when Finn had slit his throat out there in the canyon.
“You need papers for that. Passport. Social security number.” His words came out hard and fast. “Know where to get those?”
Of course she didn’t. You would have had to live a life like Finn’s to know, not a life like hers.
He growled and surged forward. She dodged him again. He slipped on some loose sand and landed on his ass with a grunt. Cora made a run for the fissure at the back of the cave, jamming her Taurus behind her belt.
“Cora!”
She risked a glance over her shoulder as Finn scrambled to his feet. Those blue eyes were wide. On any other person, she would have called it panic. With him, with Finn, it was determination. She was halfway through the fissure before Finn found her ankle and jerked her back.
Her wild kick landed a blow to his nose. Not hard enough to bring blood — as a quick look behind her showed — but enough that he flinched away from her.
Enough that she could pull free.
And then she was out the other side of the fissure and running through the overgrown trail with branches and leaves snapping at her like a dog’s teeth.
She had enough c
larity of mind to pull out the folded, crudely drawn map the store owner had given Finn. When she got to the first post, she only had to pause for a second before taking off at a mad dash. Working her way back toward the highway.
As she ran, she kept expecting to hear Finn crashing through the underbrush like a dinosaur behind her. Big arms swiping from side to side as he batted trees away from his face.
But all she could hear was her own frantic panting. All she could see was a green and brown blur as branches reached for her. And all she could feel was the furious staccato of her heart as it slammed against her rib cage, urging her to go faster.
Faster.
Faster.
W
She had to stop more than once to catch her breath. Each time, she’d strain to hear if someone was following her. If Finn was behind her, then he was too far for her to hear. Maybe he’d gotten lost in the woods. He didn’t have a map; she’d taken it.
Cora swallowed down the guilt and carried on down the slope. She couldn’t run anymore, so she walked as quickly as her legs could go.
When she reached the highway, thighs thrumming from the exertion, there were three cars parked in the cul-de-sac. Two were empty, and the third stood with its doors open, a handful of teenagers moving around it as they unpacked their gear.
One of the guys gave Cora a big wave when he saw her. She hurried past, circling widely around them in case they wanted to talk. Her returning smile was faint and unsteady.
“Dude, you okay?”
The question came as no surprise. She obviously looked like shit; mussed up hair, dirty clothes, a swollen lip. She didn’t look back. Didn’t answer. Just kept walking as fast as her legs would allow.
Away from those inquisitive eyes staring after her, while thoughts of Finn and last night and the look in his eyes after she’d said it didn’t matter she hadn’t told him she was a virgin…
Her feet slowed.
Maybe she should go back. She’d been angry, Finn had been pissed off. If she turned back and had an adult conversation with him, not a shouting match, maybe she could get him to see reason. That she’d given him her virginity — he hadn’t stolen anything. Was that why he’d been so angry this morning? Thinking he was a thief when instead she was a benefactor?
She came to a stop.
If she did this…if she kept walking…then there would be no turning back.
She glanced around. The kids were clustered in a group, backpacks on their shoulders, one of the girls with a hiking stick, studying a map.
No sign of Finn.
Maybe he hadn’t even come after her. Maybe that’s how little he cared. Maybe he’d gotten what he wanted, and screw the rest.
As she stared over her shoulder, a car came up the road heralded by a crunch of tires.
W
Finn stared at the crack in the cave wall. It barred his way as effectively as if the wall had been smooth, unbroken rock.
His pulse raced.
Sweat dampened his skin.
His fingertips tingled with pinpricks of electricity.
But none of it mattered. Feeling this way; it didn’t matter. He had to go after Cora. Despite how angry he was with her, how pissed off she was with him — he had to find her. He’d been lying to himself. Of course he could protect her. He just couldn’t allow himself to get close to her. But protect her he would. Protect her, he had to.
Finn grabbed his jacket. He glanced at the sleeping bag where it lay crumpled on the cave floor, but there was no point in fetching it.
Taking a huge breath, he dropped onto his belly and slithered through the narrow gap.
28
The Gift
The car drove past as she was turning to face it. A young family in a sedan. A little girl had her head stuck out the back window and gave Cora a blank stare when they passed. She kept walking. Kept her shoulders so tight they would bunch whenever she glanced over her shoulder. The road behind her stayed empty, but Finn could have been tracking her through the trees. She could feel eyes on her, a constant sensation the past few days. She wasn’t used to it, but it was becoming easier to ignore.
Pressing her palms against her eyes, she tried to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The urge to turn around and head back, to find Finn, kept growing stronger. Cowardice — born of zero time out in the world without a bodyguard. If she couldn’t walk down a road by herself in broad daylight, where could she ever go where she’d feel safe?
At another thrumming of tires, she took her hands away and looked up. A car wound its way up the road, slowing briefly before speeding up and driving past her.
Her chest grew tight. But she forced herself to breathe long and hard until the feeling went away.
Another car came up the road. A dark sedan.
She blinked and forced a tight smile onto her face. She could walk down to that little diner. The waitress could loan her a phone. She could see if she could call Bailey, maybe.
But no…Papá had smashed Bailey’s phone to bits before ordering Finn to put a bullet in him.
The sedan — a Toyota, she saw now that it was closer — slowed. Drove past her. Slowed even more.
Stopped.
Cold fingers squeezed Cora’s heart. She spun around, almost tripping over her feet as her legs twisted around each other.
She already knew the man who would climb out of the car would be wearing a faded red baseball cap. And it didn’t seem to matter she was already running when the car door slammed shut behind her because he caught up to her a second later. Before she could even get her Taurus out from behind her belt.
W
Teeth gritted, Finn tried not to feel where the jagged rocks snagged his clothing. He tried for a slow and steady pace — one elbow in the front of the other — dragging himself over the ground where loose stones dug into his stomach.
His heart was in his throat when he finally made his way out. Relief swarmed over him, incapacitating him for a few seconds as he scrambled to his feet and away from that hellishly narrow channel. He crouched, face in his hands, and willed away the tightness in his throat.
But the feeling didn’t pass. If anything, it multiplied. It found friends and brought them along for the party. His head spun, and he had to press his fingertips into the earth to stay rooted to the present. A shaking hand slid a peppermint between his lips, but his mouth was too dry to make it dissolve. It turned to dust when he ground it between his teeth, then stuck to his tongue.
She’s ours now. We want her back. Bring her back.
For once, he didn’t cut off the voice. Didn’t try and argue with it. He checked the magazine in his Five-seveN, made sure it was still loaded. Grabbed the grip and smoothed his thumb over it until it felt like it was giving way. Rubbed it until his breathing slowed and grew long. Until the prickling in his fingertips faded.
When he stood, the branches were no longer grasping at him. The trees no longer loomed and the bird calls filling the air were no longer as shrill.
His heart took longer to slow. But he ignored how fretfully it pounded inside his chest as he jogged down the mountain path toward the highway.
He had to find Cora.
29
Pond Scum
A hand — big and cold and rough — clapped over Cora’s mouth. She tried screaming through it, but that solid flesh muffled it to a whimper. The man’s other hand encircled her bicep. No, not his hand. Something cool and strong and slightly elastic. A rope? It looped around her neck. Tightened. Constricted her airways.
He smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap coffee.
Her first instinct was to grab the man’s wrist and try tugging his hand away so she could scream or breathe or both, but then Bailey’s self-defense lessons kicked in. Cora’s elbow took the man in his stomach. He made an angry noise — not anything like the groan of pain she’d expected — and then tugged her backward.
Her arm was going numb. She couldn’t breathe. The hose cut off her blood and air, making
her veins pop out and thrum angrily beneath her skin.
He was dragging her toward the car. When she tried biting him, he cupped his hands so she couldn’t reach him with her teeth.
She struggled, trying to lift her foot back so she could slam the heel of her boot onto his feet. But he shuffled back so quickly that she kept striking the dusty ground instead. She fumbled behind her, searching for his eyes, but he was tall enough to keep his head away from her.
He hadn’t said a word. He didn’t even seem out of breath. And the face she’d seen from under the cap didn’t belong on a lazy hired hand. He moved with the efficiency of someone who’d had to do this exact routine plenty of times before. He was a professional, but a professional what? Kidnapper? Murderer? Jack of all trades?
The only sound was the drag and scrape of their shoes against the sandy road. And, as they drew closer, the purr of his car’s engine.
He hadn’t even turned off the ignition.
He paused. She stiffened, preparing herself for another blow to his stomach. He grabbed hold of her chin and wrenched up her face. His eyes were the color of pond scum. His mouth twisted into a fond smile as something pricked into the crook of her arm. She dragged her face free and stared at the needle jutting from her flesh. A droplet of blood welled up when he tugged the syringe free.
A warm wave, like a primordial ocean heated by magma, engulfed her. Her head was helium — hot and light and floating away like a balloon.
Her knee slammed into something, but there was no pain. And then those strong, cold hands were dragging her up, over, in.
Her head bounced against heavy duty carpeting. But she felt nothing except the warm, tacky cotton wool blanket around her. Invisible, but so soft. So warm.
Her mind went blank.
What grip she’d had on the man’s sleeve slipped away. Darkness bled into the world. Was it night already? Where’d the rest of the day gone? Something tugged on her jeans, hard enough to chafe her. Which was strange, because she could remember putting on her underwear. Damp, and it had been itching her on the way down the mountain, but better than nothing.
