Begging for Bad Boys

by Willow Winters

  She sunk down in a corner, still in handcuffs, and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, she was awakened by the sound of heavy boots in the house. The door opened, and three strange men came in.

  She opened her eyes part of the way, but the men remained tall, dark blobs. She could hear the talking, tell that they were talking to her or about her, but she couldn’t distinguish their words. Vaguely she felt the handcuffs being removed from her wrists. She felt something wet under her eyes and realized that she was crying.

  She tried to look at the men, to tell which one was Ted. She’d been with him for four years, surely that meant something?

  When the men started to touch her, pulling at her clothes, the panic she was feeling exploded.

  “No!” she screamed. “No! No!”

  She lashed out, kicking and screaming, viciously defending herself. One of the men got close enough for her to sink her teeth into his arm. The man cried out, cuffing her, but then the figures retreated.

  One man remained, grabbing her by the hair. She cried out, but he started to drag her out of the room. He forced her out of the house, into the backyard. He walked her right up to a series of mesh wire dog cages, most of them full of snarling, barking pit bulls.

  The man leaned in. She saw his face up close. It was Ted, and he was enraged. He renewed his grip on her hair.

  “Ow! Ted, why are you doing this to me?” she sobbed.

  “You think you can live in my house, on my dime, and not take care of my friends? I don’t think so, Kat. I didn’t rescue you from that shithole just to let you slack. Tonight, you’ll see how my bitches get treated. We’ll see how you behave toward my friends tomorrow.”

  She moaned in response, but he released her, shoving her forward into one of the empty cages. The last thing she saw was the cage door closing in her face. She sunk down, closing her eyes, wondering if she would ever wake up again.

  Chapter 3

  Kat opened her eyes, shaking and sweating, smelling her own fear. She wasn’t sure where she was, but at least she was warm. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the snow, mounds and mounds of icy cold whiteness.

  She sat up in a bed, with clean grey sheets and a heavy navy comforter. The bed didn’t seem familiar, nor did the room itself.

  It was well into the morning, the sun peeking in the windows with that peculiar, cold light that winter sun had. She was in a strange bed, wearing unfamiliar clothes. She checked herself out, saw that she was wearing grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt that were far too large. They were clean, though.

  She looked around the room, seeing navy walls, the simple double bed, and linen curtains. Apart from a small bookshelf and a bedside table, there was nothing else in the room.

  Where was she? She didn’t know, but she knew she needed to run, needed to keep going so she could get as far from Ted as possible.

  Her hands trembled as she stretched them in front of her face. Her hands were bruised and covered in scratches from prying back the mesh fencing of the dog cage.

  She vaguely remembered a man, tall with a handsome face and dark hair. Not that handsomeness meant anything; after all, she’d thought Ted attractive plenty of times, right before he did something monstrous.

  She pushed aside the bedclothes, cursing herself for still being weak. Whatever drug Ted had given her was still in her system. She put her feet to ground, groaning as she discovered more scratches there. She stood up slowly, moving at a hobble.

  Good enough to get her far away from Ted. She cringed as she thought of how she’d come to trust Ted, and how he’d given her to his friends. She knew he was bored with her, he’d told her so. But she never expected…

  Swallowing, she looked around for some kind of footwear. Anything would do, as long as she could keep moving. After a minute, she had no luck finding shoes, so she went to the windows.

  She pulled back the curtains, cursing silently. They were flush with the wall, with no way to open them.

  A knock came at the door, making Kat jump.

  “Everything okay in there?”

  A man’s voice, deep and smooth. She didn’t know what to say, but she wasn’t getting out of here through the windows. There was only one way out, and that involved going past the man.

  The doorknob turned, and the door opened a little. He revealed himself, frowning quizzically. He had dark hair, parted on the left, and blue eyes. He was tall and clean-shaven, with classically handsome good looks. To top it all off, she could see that he was built, beneath his bulky grey sweater.

  “Hey,” he said, spotting her and opening the door a little wider. “I’m Sam. Remember me? You’re safe here, okay? I’m not sure what you were running from, but this is a safe place.”

  She laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere dark inside her. Her lips were dry and cracked, and she was thirsty, but there was no point in worrying about that now.

  “No place is safe,” she croaked, shaking her head. “I have to go.”

  She moved toward the doorway, and he stepped back to allow her to pass. She hadn’t quite expected him to simply allow her to leave, but she walked through the doorway into a cozy scene.

  The living room and kitchen were both open concept, one bleeding into the other seamlessly. The living room couch and armchair were done in dark leather, the floor carpeted with a cream-colored shag rug. A fire crackled in the fireplace, filling the room with its warmth. The walls were made of dark, rich wood that furthered the cozy feel of the rooms.

  What little she could see of the kitchen was nice, with glittering stainless steel appliances and light blue cabinets with white counters and an oak floor. There was something cooking in a Dutch oven on the stove that smelled incredible, maybe a soup. Kat’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten enough in far too long. She ignored it, spent a second taking the rooms in, then looked to the front door to the left.

  The door was made of cedar and double paned glass, same as the windows in the bedroom. She moved toward the door, looking for a coat and some shoes.

  “Hey,” he said again, sounding worried. He rushed after her, putting his hand on her arm. “Hey, you don’t want to go out right now—”

  “Let go of me!” she cried, shaking him off. “You don’t understand. I have to go!”

  “It’s snowing,” he said, keeping calm.

  “I don’t care, I have to go,” she snapped, flinging the door open. As soon as she did, an icy blast of air hit her, making her cringe back. “Jesus!” In the cozy warmth of the cabin, she’d forgotten just how cold it had been outside.

  “Yeah, it just started snowing about an hour ago,” he said patiently. “Now will you please close the door?”

  She turned and looked at him. His expression was open, concerned, and puzzled. She looked down, realized he wore jeans and no shoes, his feet bare. There was something about him being barefoot that whispered to her to trust him.

  He held his hands up, a display of surrender. He’d shoved both sleeves of his sweater up to the elbows, showing that he had nothing to hide, so his forearms were bare, too. She didn’t miss the fact that they were thick and muscular, like the rest of him.

  “Look,” he said in a level tone, “you can go out there, if you really want to. I’ll give you some shoes and a coat and gloves, even. But you won’t last the night,” he said, aggrieved. “If you don’t leave, though… I have some breakfast warming in the oven.”

  She eyed him, swallowing again. She looked off to her right, at the ground and trees that were quickly accumulating snow. Her entire body was screaming at her to run, fast and far. And it was right here… she could run now, with nothing to stop her. Another gust of wind slapped her in the face, taunting.

  But he was right, she would freeze. She should at least take the coat and meal that he offered. Her stomach growled again.

  He seemed to sense her indecisiveness. He moved toward the kitchen, taking some of the pressure off of her. He disappeared into the kitch
en, and she edged back inside. She felt tears stinging her eyes as she closed the door partially.

  God, it feels so good in here, she thought. She knew that she was weak, that she should go while she had the chance, but she closed the door the rest of the way behind herself.

  She drifted a few steps toward the kitchen, lured by the smell of eggs and bacon. He reappeared with two big slices of quiche, steaming on a plate.

  “Come on, sit down,” he said, motioning to the couch.

  Kat looked him in the eye for a long moment, then walked over to sit on the couch. She pulled a warm blanket, attractively draped over the couch’s edge, around her. She sagged for a moment, still thinking about leaving, but the food he held was too promising to ignore. He came over and gave her the plate, plus a fork to eat with, and a napkin.

  She stared at the fork in her hands. Ted didn’t let her use real silverware like this. He said that she’d find a way to use it against him. Instead he only gave her plastic spoons to eat with. It had been over four years since she'd held a real fork. Not to mention a napkin. All these little things he’d done, she thought to herself, just to break her spirit.

  She looked at Sam, then ignored the fork and shoved the whole slice of quiche into her mouth. He didn’t say anything about her lack of manners, just backed off and let her eat. The quiche was heavenly, a mix of creamy egg, spinach, cheese, some kind of meat, and a flaky, buttery crust that crumbled onto her tongue.

  Kat held back a moan as she chewed. She was on a strict diet at Ted’s house, only twelve hundred calories a day. He told her he didn’t want her fat, but she thought he kept her hungry to keep her from fighting back. All her meals were leftovers of Ted’s, mostly the vegetables, with an occasional scrap of meat or bones. None of them were anywhere near as decadent as this, and none of them were hot, either. It was heavenly. She could practically feel the calories shooting into her bloodstream.

  “Kat,” he said as she was finishing the second slice. “I promise you, I don’t want to hurt you. I only want to help. I can tell someone’s hurt you, but I would never do anything like that. I’m a doctor.”

  He sounded so sincere. Her eyes filled with tears as she swallowed another bite of the quiche. Maybe he meant what he said, and he did actually want to help. The problem was that Kat didn’t know what she needed, other than to run. She felt her legs tense up again.

  Sam noticed that. He looked at her closely. “What you’re feeling is a flight reflex, I think. When people get into traumatic situations, their body releases a lot of chemicals that makes them want to run, and it doesn’t even matter if it makes sense or not to run, like if, for example, -” his mouth quirked upward in a playful smile, “you’re staring out at the snow in your bare feet.”

  Kat’s mouth twitched just the slightest bit. “Maybe,” she said. She felt calmer, suddenly. Maybe because he told her that. It made her feel like he understood.

  “I want to help you. Just promise me you won’t fly away just yet. Not until it’s safe, okay?”

  She didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky as to end up on Sam’s land, but she knew that she was safe for the time being.

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. It came out as a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless.

  He nodded back, then gestured to the kitchen.

  “You still hungry?” he asked.

  She nodded, looking closely at his eyes for the first time. They were kind, and also a striking shade of blue.

  “Come on in here. I have a nice soup I just made up that’s on the stove, and some bread, and....” his voice trailed off as he walked into the kitchen.

  Shoulders hunched, she carried her plate into the kitchen.

  Chapter 4

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck, watching Kat sleep.

  After Kat had eaten her way through most of the food in Sam’s kitchen, she’d become exhausted again. She had wandered over to the couch and started to fall asleep when Sam suggested she go back to her guest room. Sam told her that her body was still trying to recover from the stress of trauma and being in the cold. She needed the best rest she could get. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to get her back to his bed, where she’d immediately fallen into a deep sleep, nestled under a layer of warm quilts.

  Kat had been very clear that she did not want him to call the authorities. Sam felt uneasy about that part. He had been in the military a long time. His instinct was to report upward to proper channels. But he’d promised Kat he wouldn’t alert anyone just yet. She’d been through enough. He just hoped that by not calling it in, he wasn’t putting her in more danger.

  Sam was an observant man. He’d been careful, when cleaning her wounds, to keep his face neutral, but he’d seen the bruises and cuts all over her body. He’d also seen the old wounds, healed to scars now. He’d seen how thin she was, each delicate rib visible, her clavicles standing out stark against her shoulders. Someone had been brutalizing Kat for a long time. The bad men, as she called them, were downright evil.

  She’d flinched as he’d touched her, over and over again, keeping her head down and her eyes almost blank. That stung Sam for some reason he couldn’t quite name. Sam was accustomed to patients being afraid of doctors, but it bothered him that the woman who he’d just rescued was terrified of him.

  It more than bothered him. It made him furious. He wanted to track down the men who’d hurt her and match every scar they’d put on Kat’s body. He knew why he felt that way. Didn’t make it any less powerful, though. Well, if somebody was gonna come after this poor woman, they’d have to get through him first, he decided.

  Just like that, Sam pledged himself to her protection. He didn’t necessarily think of it like that, but he recognized the shift in himself. It was just his way. Sam believed in protecting the vulnerable, the innocent, and the needy. Sam had no illusions, being in medicine, about some of the predators that existed in the world.

  Sam walked to the guest bedroom, where Kat was sleeping. He stood in the doorway and listened to the steady sound of her breathing. It reassured him.

  He’d done his best to take care of her, but he had no way of seeing if she was injured internally. No X-ray machine, no diagnostic tests or labs to run them, no IV lines, saline drips, or bags of lifesaving plasma out here. Just his intuition and training. Sam was a good doctor - well, he had been, he corrected himself - but he was far better when he had all of his tools around him.

  For a few panicked moments while they were riding back to the cabin, he’d wondered what to do if she was gravely injured. Losing a patient in a hospital setting was different, way different. Out here, there’d be nobody else to help him if she went into shock, if internal bleeding occurred, if she succumbed to hypothermia. Sam had forced himself to shake off his fears at the time, but still - he worried. Every sleepy exhalation he heard her make now seemed to remove a bit of the weight of that worry from his shoulders.

  Past the bruises and lacerations, Sam was able to see that Kat was beautiful. Her blonde hair was dirty and matted, but the lustre of it was still visible. She had high cheekbones and elegant, arched brows that framed her striking green eyes perfectly. He’d never seen eyes quite her color, like jewels, or very vivid moss. She was thin, too, but Sam could see the beauty of her still.

  He firmly pushed down a small twinge of desire. What the hell is wrong with me? I just rescued this woman!

  Well, maybe that was it. Sam had always been the kind of guy who found and cared for damaged people. It was part of why he’d gone into medicine. His family used to joke that if there was a stray cat, dog, or person within miles, they’d find Sam, or he’d find them. In this case, it was literally true. He hadn’t been one full day in the area before he’d run across someone in the middle of a freezing snowstorm!

  Then too, since his fiancée’s death, he’d felt so lonely and without purpose. He hated that he felt this way, but he was a little grateful for the distraction Kat was bringing into his own shitty life. He’d been hoping that coming
out to the cabin would jerk him out of his depression. Well, mission accomplished.

  For the tenth time, Sam wondered if he should call the police. And also for the tenth time, he dismissed the idea. Kat had begged him not to. He’d agreed, moved by the genuine terror in her beautiful green eyes. He couldn’t break her trust like that. Sam shut the door to the bedroom quietly and walked back into the living room. He’d made a decision.

  Maybe he couldn’t call the authorities, but he could call Hakim.

  Hakim was an old buddy he’d met in the service. Hakim had grown up rat ass poor, but he was the kind of guy life just couldn’t keep down. He’d initially enrolled in the Army to pay his college tuition. There, Hakim had immediately attracted the attention of his superiors, who’d plucked him out of basic training and put him into the Rangers. He’d excelled, displaying a sharp mind as well as a sort of jovial acceptance that let him take the worst of people with the best.

  Sam had met him when Hakim had needed treatment for a concussion and three broken fingers. Sam had discreetly avoided asking how Hakim had gotten those injuries. That was, Hakim told him later, the first reason he really liked Sam.

  Despite their differences in background, the two men had bonded quickly. And Hakim was a good friend to have in your corner. He was brilliant, loyal, and he had a carefully cultivated network of inside connections.

  Hakim picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “It’s Sam.”

  “My man! How are you? It’s been a while!”

  Sam ignored the concern in his friend’s voice. He hadn’t talked to Hakim much since his fiancée had died. Hadn’t talked much to anyone, really. Sam pushed the thought away.

  “I, uh… got a bit of a situation here.” He described the day’s events.

  Hakim didn’t hesitate. “You got guns there?”

  Sam looked down at the revolver in his hip holster. He’d hidden it under his sweater when talking to Kat. Now he felt the solid, reassuring weight of it.