RETURN TO ME

by Christy Reece

  “What happens to the girls?”

  Mitch blinked, obviously surprised at such an off-the-wall question. “I don’t know. … They get shipped out somewhere. Most likely to Thailand this time.”

  “This time?”

  “Yeah, this’ll be the third group we’ve gathered.” He grinned like a kid who’d just aced his math test. “We’ve brought in some of the most prime teen ass this country has to offer.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. LCR was hell and away behind on this. He’d actually thought this was Bennett’s first attempt at this type of abduction. How had he missed so many other young girls disappearing in a similar fashion? Noah and his people had their work cut out for them. Not only would they rescue these girls, but would do their damnedest to find the others.

  “Where’d the other ones go?”

  “Huh?” Mitch paused in picking his teeth. “Oh, uh. Hell, I don’t know … Mexico and Brazil, I think.”

  “That’s a really cool idea, but aren’t you afraid that after a while the cops are going to catch on. Taking that many girls, using the ruse that you’re a high school jock is—”

  “Naw, this was the first time we used the school jock thing. Last time we just prowled a couple of websites that kids like to go to. Only got five that way, though. Bastards decided to start asking for more information before they’d let us chat.” He said the last part as if insulted he hadn’t been trusted.

  Nodding as if this was another inventive and brilliant idea, Noah leaned back into his chair and allowed his brother to gloat. Listening to Mitch was much easier when he knew that every ounce of information he gained would be used against him very soon.

  “The first time was just kind of an experiment. We went to teen hangouts. Malls … shit like that. Ended up with three girls and even a few boys.” He grinned at that. “We’re an equal opportunity organization.”

  “Teen boys?” That was a new bit of information.

  “Yeah. You’d be amazed what some perverts will pay for a fresh piece of young male ass.”

  Mitch calling someone else a pervert was pretty damn scary. Few people were more perverted than his brother.

  “Stalking the malls got damn dangerous, though. Never know where cameras might be. This way … nobody knows.”

  “You got some major balls, bro.”

  Mitch flashed another slimy grin at his brother’s obvious admiration. “Yeah. Boss is going to shit when he sees how many I got him. Man’s going to be mighty pleased with me.”

  Noah forced another admiring glance.

  “And we’d be doing another truckload if it wasn’t for that idiot ‘do good’ group that’s after us now.”

  “Who’s that?” Already knowing and relishing the disgust on his brother’s face.

  “Called Last Chance Rescue. Ever heard of them?”

  “Don’t think so. What’d they do?”

  “Caused a shitload of problems. Last year, they shut down four of the boss’s businesses.”

  “And they’re after him again?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I wanted to get something from that bitch I gave you. She’s involved with them.”

  “How do you know that? Thought you said she wouldn’t tell you anything.”

  “She didn’t. But my men heard her call out ‘Noah’ right before they grabbed her.”

  “So?”

  “Noah McCall’s the head of the group. He’s somehow tracked us down. Now we’re going to have to come up with another plan.”

  “Got any ideas?”

  “Not yet. When I get the merchandise to Mr. Bennett, we’ll sit down and have a planning session.”

  Just like any successful business would. Hell, the freaks probably had a five-year plan and a vision statement, too.

  Noah leaned forward with all the eagerness of a lowlife sleazeball. “So, how can I get in on this? Sounds like you already have almost all the girls you’re going to get.”

  “Yeah, but I need another man. One of mine got a real bad headache a few hours ago.” Mitch’s small, mean smile indicated the headache wasn’t one the man would ever recover from.

  “Okay, I’ll stick around. Then what?”

  “We take the shipment to Bennett. I’ll introduce you. You got an impressive record. I’m bettin’ he’ll give you a job.”

  Noah stood. He was pretty sure he’d gotten all he could out of Mitch for the time being. Now he just wanted to go back to Samara and reassure himself she was truly all right.

  He gathered the small amount of food he’d collected for her. “Thanks for the meal, man, but I gotta go feed my new little playmate. She’s going to need the strength.”

  Noah walked out the door on Mitch’s guffaw. Not for the first time, Noah wished for a way to withdraw the tainted blood from his body. Having Mitch and his father’s genes and blood inside him sickened him to the point of nausea. He’d come to terms years ago with the knowledge that no matter what he did, his DNA was contaminated. No matter what he did. How many he saved. He could never change that.

  For the next two days, Samara drifted in and out of consciousness. Exhaustion and trauma had taken a toll. Only able to keep her eyes open for a few minutes at a time, every time they did open, Noah was beside her. She took comfort in the sight. Funny that his brother, identical in looks, could send chills of revulsion down her spine and the only chills Noah gave her were of delight.

  Her mind skittered away from thinking about what had happened. Noah was full of questions. She could see them in his eyes. He didn’t want to push her into talking. At some point she’d have to tell him. For right now she just wanted to rest and not think about it.

  She hoped for the best for the girls who’d escaped. Noah hadn’t mentioned them again. He went out several times during the day and night, but always returned quickly. Each time he left, he gave her his gun, his instructions simple but explicit. “Shoot to kill.” Then he would give her that searching, concerned look that warmed her and sent alarm through her at the same time.

  She knew he was worried about her, for her. At some point, she would come out of this lassitude and talk, but not yet. She closed her eyes and drifted away. It wasn’t time.

  A gentle hand caressing her hair brought her eyes open. She blinked sleepily and smiled.

  “You feel up to talking?”

  Her eyes flittered away from the intense stare as her heart rate zoomed. No, she wasn’t ready. Wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. Postponing it as long as she could, she grimaced down at the T-shirt and shorts Noah had given her, which she’d been wearing for two days. “What I’d really like is a bath and some fresh clothes.”

  He stared silently for a few seconds and then nodded. “I’ll go run the water for you. I’ve scrubbed the tub several times … so it should be clean enough.”

  She watched him walk away and sighed. Admittedly, a small reprieve, but perhaps getting cleaned up and refreshed would make her feel more ready.

  Noah returned and scooped her into his arms, startling her. “I can walk.”

  “You’re still weak and your feet are too sore.” Carrying her into the bathroom, he sat her on the closed lid of the toilet. “Do you need help bathing?”

  He’d seen her nude, when they made love and whenever he put the salve on her injuries. Samara knew she had nothing to hide, but right now she didn’t want his help. Perhaps it was a control issue. For now, she just wanted solitude.

  “I’ll be fine.” When he looked doubtful, she added, “You can stay by the door and if I need you, I’ll call out. Okay?”

  Though he nodded and closed the door behind him, she could tell he wasn’t convinced. That, more than anything, gave her determination. She’d needed his tender care the last couple of days, but it was time to recover and regroup. Time for strength, and at some point soon, time for action.

  Ignoring the dismal surroundings of the decrepit facilities, Samara stripped. She avoided looking at her body as she eased into soothing water. Beside the tub, Noah had set
out a towel, along with soap, shampoo, conditioner, and a razor. She leaned back into the tub, closed her eyes, and allowed the hot water to seep into her bones. Cleansing, healing, soothing.

  Noah paced back and forth in front of the door. She’d been in there for half an hour. He’d called out several times to make sure she was okay. The last time she’d reassured him, there had been a definite snap in her voice. Hearing her irritation pleased him beyond measure.

  The last two days, she’d drifted in and out of consciousness. When she woke, he’d done his best to ply her with liquids and food. Her appetite had been almost nonexistent, but with a bit of coercion he’d gotten some nourishment in her. That she’d let him get away with bullying her was just another indication of how weak and vulnerable she’d been.

  He hoped that was about to change. She’d need to be strong to face what lay ahead. He wanted to know what happened, what she’d been through. Part of him felt selfish and evil for making her relive it, another part told him she needed to tell it. Cathartic release a part of the healing process. This wasn’t an optimum time for counseling, nor was it the right setting, but he had another reason for needing to know. If she’d heard or seen something, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that information might be vital.

  The truck would most likely arrive within the next couple of days. Which was why he needed Samara to talk and needed to assess her condition. What he planned wouldn’t be pretty, but it was necessary.

  Samara needed to be long gone before the other girls arrived. She’d already been through too much. Putting her through further trauma went against everything within him. Getting her away from these bastards was his first priority.

  The bathroom door opened and Samara emerged. The bruises on her face stood out green and blue against creamy, pale skin. The welts on her body were healing and had turned to ugly, narrow bruises. The medicated cream he applied two to three times a day had fought any infection from all the numerous cuts and scrapes she’d sustained, including her feet. Every time he looked at her, rage engulfed him. He had a good idea of how she’d gotten all her injuries, but he still wanted to hear it from her. And he still didn’t know if she’d been raped.

  “Feel better?”

  Lips, still chapped and bruised from abuse, tilted in a reassuring smile. His chest ached. Damned if she should be trying to make him feel better.

  “Much better … thanks.” Wearing the clean T-shirt he’d loaned her, she wobbled to the bed. Despite the knowledge that she was struggling to gain control, his arms reached out automatically to carry her. He checked himself before she saw his mistake. He had to give her space. Time, unfortunately, was no longer something he could give her.

  “Mara, we need to talk about what happened.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  Moving carefully, not wanting to have her feel threatened in any way, he approached the bed and sat down. Her body, warm, slight, and delectably made, tempted him. He snarled at the unwanted desire. The time for that had come and gone and would be no more. Hell, after what she’d been through, he didn’t know if she’d ever be able to have a sexual relationship with a man again. Though everything within him rebelled at another man touching her, more than anything he wanted Samara to have a normal life. To be safe and happy. The thought that this experience might prohibit that filled him with gut-wrenching guilt.

  He should never have involved her in this operation. But he had. Now he had to figure out a way to help her deal with it.

  “Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Get the anger, pain, and humiliation out in the open.”

  Shuddering violently, she shifted away from him. Noah stilled her with his hand on her arm. “I need to know. … You may have inadvertently picked up some information.”

  “I didn’t hear anything. I was too scared. It’s all a blur. … I barely remember …”

  “You remember more than you think you do.”

  Wounded eyes, filled with tears, tortured and seared him. “I can’t, Noah. … I just can’t. You don’t understand what’s it’s like … how it feels to be so helpless and vulnerable. All those vile, hideous things they said to me. Not knowing if they were going to rape me. Wanting them to stop, but knowing if they stopped one thing, something even more horrible might take its place.”

  Easing her into his arms, he pulled her head to his chest. “I promise you, no one will ever hurt you again. I’m sorry this happened and I’d give my life for it never to have happened. But the fact is, it did. Now, we need to deal with it and go on.”

  She jerked away, glaring in accusation. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who was violated … treated like garbage. Pinched, slapped, stripped, beaten, and …” She looked away. “There’s no way you could understand what it’s like to be so vulnerable, helpless … so incredibly powerless.”

  Noah pulled her into his arms again and rocked her. “It will get better. … I promise.”

  “Rationally, I know it will. It has to. I’ve counseled women who have been physically and sexually abused. I know what I’m supposed to do … what I’m supposed to feel. Knowing and doing …” A slow shake of her head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “I know but—”

  “But nothing, Noah. You can’t know until you’ve been through it yourself.”

  Stiff and still, he barely breathed. Then, with a long sigh, ragged with understanding, he spoke in a cool monotone. “I was sixteen years old when Mitch raped a girl from my school.” His shoulder lifted in a small shrug. “I had a crush on her and she’d paid attention to me. Mitch never could stand me having something he didn’t have. Always wanted what he thought I had or wanted.”

  As if unable to sit still, Noah stood and turned toward the window. He blew out a snorting laugh. “Back then, I was Michael Stoddard. And believe it or not, considered the bad twin, with the dangerous reputation. Mitch was known as the good one. When Rebecca told her parents, her parents called the sheriff. … I was the one they came for.

  “Rebecca’s parents refused to let her testify. She knew it was Mitch, though he’d done his best to make her believe it was me—even wore my clothes. No one believed her. Said she was too traumatized to know the truth. The sheriff was convinced they had their rapist.

  “I was sentenced to two years. My lawyer thought it was a damn good deal.” Another pause and then, “My first night, I remember sitting in my cell. … I’d always pretended to be tough, while all the time, I was just a scared kid. But I knew it could no longer be an act. I had to be tough for real. My mental pep talk lasted all of five minutes … then the cell door opened.”

  Samara forced herself to stay seated, barely breathing.

  “Two of the inmates decided to give me a demonstration of what my victim had gone through. First they beat the hell out of me. The whole time I was thinking that someone would come and save me … never happened. When they got tired of that, they slapped tape over my mouth and took turns.”

  Dead silence followed his tragic statement. Samara hadn’t thought she could hurt any more than she already did. … She was wrong.

  When he turned back toward her, fierce determination blazed in his eyes. “That’s why I know you can overcome it, Mara. It won’t be anything you’ll ever forget, but it will be something that will dim … eventually.”

  “What happened after that?”

  A shrug. “They left. I cleaned myself up and the rest of the night, I made plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  His mouth lifted with a hint of wry humor. “You name it, I planned it. From killing everyone who’d had anything to do with what happened to me, to getting out and killing my brother and father.”

  He stayed silent for so long, she was afraid he wouldn’t share any more. Finally, his voice rumbled across the room. “Of course, I didn’t do any of those things, but I did become the tough guy I needed to be to survive. When there’s a new kid on the block and he’s already been broken in, they come at you lik
e vultures, thinking they can get an easy piece. I showed them I’d never be that easy again.”

  Her heart bled for him, because no matter how much he denied it, the hurt inside him still lingered. What would he have been like if he hadn’t been forced to be who he was? Was that young man still inside him? The sensitive, unworldly, and kind person he probably was before he’d suffered such a trauma?

  “After that, it got easier. Most everybody stayed away from me. I probably would have gotten out in a year or so. … I didn’t know until I got out that Rebecca finally convinced her family it wasn’t me. They worked like hell to prove it’d been Mitchell. Nobody wanted to believe them. My dad had too much clout with the sheriff and the judge, who also happened to be his best drinking buddies.”

  “Your father wanted you in prison?”

  “Mitch was his favorite.” He paused. “They had a lot in common.”

  By that she figured he meant his father had done pretty much the same things Mitchell had done. “What about your mother?”

  “She left home when I was a kid. Couldn’t take the abuse anymore.”

  “You said you probably would have stayed in prison a year. What happened?”

  A genuine grin kicked up his mouth and despite their topic of conversation, her heart lightened.

  “New kid came in. Same thugs decided to break him in. I broke it up. Got more time tacked on for beating the shit out of them. The extra time was worth it.”

  “What happened to those men? Were they ever punished for what they did?”

  He shook his head. “Not by the law, no. One of them was found dead in his cell one morning. Somebody had gutted him in his sleep. The other one died from a burst appendix a few months before I was released.”

  Samara blew out a ragged sigh. She’d never been happy to hear about anyone’s death, but she couldn’t help but be glad the bastards who had hurt Noah were in hell, where they belonged.

  “How long were you there?”