Bend, Don't Break

by Skye Callahan

  “You think it was dumb luck that it turned up the same day as the shooting?” I asked.

  “Let’s find out.”

  We met the techs downstairs where they were discussing the cell phone with Captain Richards.

  “Are they trying to bomb us now?” I asked.

  “No, it’s just a standard camera phone that you can pick up at any store. It’s never been used except to take one picture.”

  I had to school my features when I picked it up to see a picture of a group of women in a bridal store. “That’s Rose and her sister.”

  Dragging my hands through my hair, I marched around the room. I couldn’t stand looking at it. “Any way to tell when it was taken?”

  “According to the timestamp,” the tech said, “yesterday afternoon.”

  Trent intercepted me. “You just talked to her, so you know she’s fine.”

  That didn’t matter. It didn’t take long for everything to begin falling apart. Within seconds, I went from a quiet day stopping by her house to feed the cat and ended up getting shot at.

  I took the phone from the tech, scowling at the image on the screen, and started dialing my own phone.

  I dropped into a chair, relieved when Rose answered on the first ring.

  “Everything okay?”

  I was probably going to give the poor girl a heart attack before the end of the day. “Where are you right now?”

  “Um,” I could tell the question threw her off guard. “My parents’ house, we’re having dinner.”

  “Who all is we?”

  “You’re not going to flip out again, are you?”

  “No, Rose, just answer.” I was already flipping out and Peter was the least of my worries.

  “My parents, Chey, Laney, and Peter.”

  The other phone vibrated—I’d almost forgotten I was holding it, but when I looked down, I saw a new image had automatically opened. A blue house. The area was dimly lit, taken outdoors—my eyes went to the window.

  The photo perfectly matched the current evening light.

  I lowered my head, praying that I was wrong. “Describe your parent’s house.”

  “Um, light blue, cape cod. What the hell is going on James?”

  “Make sure everything is locked.” I handed Trent the phone with the image, and he stepped away to make his own call. “Keep everyone away from the windows, and don’t let anyone in or out.”

  “James?” Her voice was desperate, but I didn’t know what else to give her. She was two hours away, and whatever these bastards had planned she was long out of my reach.

  They’d been waiting for this.

  Trent tapped my shoulder, then pointed to his phone. “I’m talking to a detective there, he and an unmarked squad car are on their way over there.”

  I assumed he’d already had their address and contacts in their area from when Rose was missing.

  “We’re in Dad’s office,” Rose whispered. “There aren’t any windows and the house is locked up. What’s going on?”

  I heard a baby fussing in the background. “You’re being watched.”

  “Does this have anything to do with what happened to you earlier?”

  From the vagueness of her statement, I assumed that meant she hadn’t told her family about the shooting. I wouldn’t want to find out what they’d think of me if they knew all the details. “Probably.”

  “Won’t do me any good to say I want to come home, will it?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. Fifteen minutes ago I was convinced she was safer with her family, but now I wasn’t convinced of anything.

  Trent got the call when the police arrived. It took only five minutes, but even that wasn’t fast enough in my opinion, but nothing would be.

  “Trent has a contact down there,” I explained to Rose, “Detective Stephens, he should be walking up to your front door now, so go answer it.”

  “Okay.”

  I heard movement through the phone, then some kind of debate.

  “Stay here,” Rose said. “It’s a cop. I’m going to let him in. It’ll be fine.”

  The fear was nearly completely gone from her voice—whether it was just for show for me or her family. I took a deep breath. “Rose.”

  “Yeah, I’m heading to the door.”

  “I love you, Sugar.”

  I heard her breath across the microphone. “I love you, too, even though I’d rather tell you that in person.”

  “Hi,” her voice was faint, and then I heard a male voice, but couldn’t quite make out the words. I rubbed my hand through my hair. Their conversation was faded and near impossible to keep up with.

  After a few tense minutes, she came back on and I put her on speaker phone so Trent and Captain Richards could hear. “They’re clearing the area, but haven’t found anything suspicious. You’re sure he’s watching?”

  “Sent a picture of your parents’ house. Looks like it was taken in the evening, right about this time, but we can’t be certain. He also had a picture of you and your sister in a bridal shop.” I didn’t want to alarm her, but she needed all of the facts to keep herself safe.

  “We’ve been there the last two days. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t want my family in danger, too.”

  “They’re putting a protective detail on the house,” Trent said.

  “So, I’m just supposed to sit here and wait—what about everyone else?”

  It was me they wanted, and if they could use her, they could use her family. “Stay together. We’ll get you more information as soon as we can.”

  “For now,” Trent said, “get ahold of Stephens if you need anything.”

  He gave her the direct number to call, and I said my reluctant goodbye before hanging up the phone.

  “You’re going to a safe house,” Captain Richards said.

  I began to argue, but recalled it within the same instant. I wasn’t living alone, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to Evan’s house with someone gunning for me. I should have started apartment hunting when the thought had first crossed my mind—but then my request to the universe for more hours in a day had yet to be granted.

  But I had a feeling I was about to have far more hours with nothing to do.

  “Evan and Katie have been thinking about taking a trip to see his parents,” Trent said. “I’m going to see that they get on a plane and get out of here for a few days.”

  I nodded and watched my grasp on the situation slip impossibly away. We’d been worried about the wrong enemy coming back to bite me in the ass. I couldn’t believe that Kirk had gotten so powerful or made this many ties. He’d only been out months.

  Maybe we’d discounted my enemies too quickly. And I hoped the dread—the overwhelming fear that they might be joining forces—was unsubstantiated. The Retreat had been hard to bring down on its own, but whatever was going on now was running with the same level of efficiency.

  If they controlled every lead and every piece of information we’d received, we’d spend years digging before we figured out what might lead us in the right direction.

  “They know Rose is my weakness.... Waited until she was out of town and out of reach. But... why?”

  “You,” Trent said. “If this is the real Kirk, he’s putting you out of commission, just like you did him.”

  Richards picked up his phone. “I’ll make the calls to get you set up in the safe house, James. Don’t make me order you to stay there until we get this worked out.”

  “Just find me the bastard. I’ve had enough of this shit.”

  Chapter 17

  Release the Dark

  Trent promised I’d be in the safe house a few days max, but faster than I imagined, that turned into weeks. Evan and Katie were home and back to business as usual, and although the authorities were keeping an eye on Rose and her family, they couldn’t stay on lockdown forever.

  And neither could I.

  I sat on the living room floor, going over the copies of everything that Trent b
rought over most evenings. The quiet was the only reason I hadn’t begun demanding to leave the safe house. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as intimidating as I feared—especially since I plenty to keep me busy.

  A board creaked on the front porch and I reached for the gun I’d stored under the couch.

  “It’s me,” Trent called.

  I relaxed, returning my attention to the files as the lock unfastened and the door opened. But, as he entered, I noticed a second set of footsteps.

  Trent rounded the corner, leaned against the back of the chair and smirked. “Don’t shoot me.”

  I scowled. What the hell was he up to?

  Rose stepped through the doorway. “Apparently I can be a pain in the ass.”

  “That’s an understatement.” I jumped to my feet and lifted her with a crushing hug.

  “I have a meeting to get back to, but I figured you could use some company. And maybe she’ll keep you in line,” he winked and headed right back out.

  “Couldn’t handle it anymore,” Rose said. “Maybe it’s all over, and he just wanted to fuck with you.”

  “We can hope, but either way, no one is trusting anything until we get to the bottom of it. And considering it has been weeks since I’ve seen anything outside of this house, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s possible.”

  She hooked her arms around my neck—the first time she’d been able to do it since being shot. “Trouble is almost healed,” she said with a wink. “But that’s about the limits of my skill right now. Sometimes rehab is worse than the initial shot.”

  “You’ll get there. You did survive me for a month.”

  “Mmmh, yes. I guess you’d like to get back to your work,” she said waving to my makeshift workstation on the coffee table and floor.

  “I could think of better things to do.” Hands on her ass, I lifted her up to kiss me.

  She slid back down to the floor, a smile plastered on her face. “Anything I can do to help?”

  I glided my hand up the back of her shirt to rest on her bare back.

  “Rules,” she whispered, but it didn’t bring me back down.

  Captain Richards had made arrangements for Dr. Combs to come to me once a week to continue our sessions, but I still hadn’t admitted to her all the things I’d told Rose. The dreams were still relentless, but it was becoming easier to disconnect with them.

  Pushing her back toward the couch, my lips crashed against hers. Needy and hungry for her taste, her touch, even her voice. I wanted her, and for a moment, I wanted to forget everything that kept getting in our way.

  After two steps, Rose stood her ground, slipping from my grasp. “Nice to see you, too. Maybe we should talk first.”

  I caught her again and spun her against my chest so her back was to me and her ear was near my mouth. “Really want me to stop?”

  “Are you doing this for a distraction?”

  I released her and dropped my hands to my sides. Distraction? Fuck yes, I wanted a distraction. But that wasn’t all I wanted. “Fine. I want to think about my girlfriend more than this stupid case and my current situation.”

  I reached to grab her arm, but she ducked away again.

  Her mouth twitched, and she took another step backward. She was intentionally goading me.

  Springing toward her, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down onto the couch. I landed on my back, holding her tight to my chest. My mouth sealed around hers igniting a searing pulse through my veins. My body wanted free from the rules. Free from everything to concentrate on only one thing.

  But she flipped to the floor again and scampered away. “We shouldn’t, James.” She put out her hand but had a smile on her face the whole time.

  I chased after her again, slamming her into a wall—it vibrated so hard a picture frame fell off. I froze as soon as it happened, but she reached back up to kiss me.

  Too much. I straightened and pulled back. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Giving you something else to think about.”

  “Not throwing you through a wall—that’s a brilliant alternative.”

  She pursed her lips and fisted my shirt deterring me from retreating any further. “Well, if you get close to that point, I’ll let you know.”

  I wanted to push, and she wanted to be pushed.

  And that gave me an idea. Kissing her to keep her attention, I held her there and reached over to my suit jacket that was thrown over a nearby table. I felt heavy metal against my fingers, and for a moment I second guessed my intention.

  I couldn’t go my entire life second guessing everything.

  Her eyes opened as I tightened the cold cuff around one wrist.

  “Still game?”

  She looked down at the cuffs, then up at me. “I really hope you have the key.”

  “You’ll find out.” I twisted her cuffed hand behind her back. Kissing her neck and pulling her shirt down to trail my lips along her collarbone. “No sex,” I muttered.

  I could indulge in my fantasies, or I could let go of my rules, but I wasn’t willing to do both yet.

  “No being rash this time?”

  “I wasn't rash last time.” Not entirely. I needed control, not rash, impulsive lust, if we were going to test this out. I hadn’t wanted to justify my dark fantasies. Leaving it as some foreign part of me was easier to accept. Chiefly because I associated it with the Retreat—not with my real life, but it kept slowly creeping back. It pained me to admit that Rose was right.

  She tilted her head and smiled. “Do your worst.”

  “You don’t want to tell me that, Sugar,” my voice growled as I spoke, moving toward her again. “You’re just fine with me acting out my fantasies without sex?”

  She rubbed her lips together. “Delayed gratification, I guess.”

  “Any limits?”

  Her eyebrows wiggled. “We’ll figure it out when we get to it.”

  I put my hand to her throat. All the times in life I’d been told to face my fears—I didn’t think anyone would have anticipated my applying that to strangling my girlfriend.

  Her eyes locked on me, slightly distant, but still aware of every motion.

  I hooked my finger through the empty ring of the handcuff and led her toward the kitchen. No plan in mind, I’d just have to see what I could come up with.

  I started to pull up her shirt, but she brushed away my hands.

  “You first.”

  I groaned and pressed her backward over the table. “My fantasy. Take your shirt off.”

  She jutted out her lower lip for a second, before slowly pulling up her shirt and dropping it on the floor.

  We were about to see how far my control could go.

  “Don’t I even get some eye candy?” she asked, tugging at my shirt again.

  “No,” I flipped her legs onto the table and twisted her around to lay across it long ways. “You might not be seeing much of anything.”

  I fastened the other end of the cuff to the leg of the table. “Can you lift your other arm over your head?”

  “Not even close,” she slid it up the table until it was nearly straight out. “That’s about the limit for my shoulder.”

  “Don’t move,” I kissed her bare stomach before I stepped away. There had to be a few things around the house we could use for fun. I grabbed a length of clothes line and clothespins from the laundry room, and a couple of ties from the suitcase I had never unpacked.

  I used one tie on her right arm—leaving her plenty of room to keep it comfortable and not strain the healing muscle. Then, I slid off her shoes and jean shorts.

  “You’re quiet,” I said.

  “I’m enjoying watching you.” Her voice was already light, yet rough.

  My first big surprise—she really did enjoy it.

  I took the scissors from the knife rack and cut the clothesline into smaller sections so I could secure her ankles. I was sure to leave enough room that the harsh line wouldn’t cut into skin, but I didn’t imagine she’d be flaili
ng around too much anyway.

  Then, my second tie. I held it up, loosely hanging over my finger. “I’m going to cover your eyes.”

  “That’s no fun,” she pouted, testing each of her restrained appendages before she nodded. She never took her gaze from my face, but her neck and arms strained.

  I made a loop with the tie, then slid it over her head and tightened it. Without being able to see me, she wouldn’t know what to expect, and I could have some fun watching her reactions and seeing how far she’d let me go without stopping me.

  I rubbed my fingers down her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps that tightened her skin up to her breasts, pulling her nipples into tight points. I pinched one and she arched, a moan beginning deep in her chest and sticking in her throat.

  Rolling her breasts beneath my palms, I squeezed again. Switching between soft caresses and harsh pinches at a random pace until she squirmed and gasped for air.

  I moved down the table and smacked the inside of her leg, gently at first, but I increased the power behind each swing.

  She fisted her hands and curled her toes.

  Then, I picked up the clothespins, stretching them so the springs would be a bit looser. I snapped the first one over her left nipple, and she squealed, sucking in her lower lip and biting it. Her body remained tense, probably preparing for the second pinch, so I stepped back and waited.

  I searched through a few kitchen drawers and found a basting brush. Starting just below her bellybutton, I drew the silicone bristles gently up her stomach, across her collarbone, and then I trailed it around her other taut nipple.

  She shuddered, then relaxed—just what I was waiting for. I snapped the second clothespin onto her nipple.

  “Son of a—” Biting back the words, she arched off the table. Air hissed as she forced slow breaths through her clenched teeth.

  I opened another drawer, searching for something else and grabbed a butter knife—blindfolded, she’d have no idea what the cold surface was. I dragged it down her sides, across her neck, and between her legs. Each whispered gasp spurring me onward.

  I pressed the heel of my palm to her sex. I was slipping dangerously close to breaking my rule, especially as I heard her moan and watched her muscles twitch for more. My cock jumped in reaction to her movements.