by Peak, Renna
But I was prepared for this. I could handle it. I had handled it—days of it, if not weeks. I could barely remember it now, but I did remember it. It wasn’t like you could ever forget something like that. But I had been trained to tolerate it. To block it out—to not give in no matter what it was they asked me or who in my life they threatened to hurt if I didn’t.
But of all the tortures I had been trained to endure, waterboarding was the worst of them. The caning had sucked, too, and I was still surprised that it hadn’t left marks on my back. Maybe that had been on purpose—I’d had to sleep with women as part of my job, and it would be difficult to explain caning scars. What could you tell someone to explain something like that?
But the water—it had always been my Achilles’ heel. Hell, it would have been just as effective for them to threaten to drop me in a lake. They didn’t need to tip me upside down into a bucket to get the same effect. And if they had known who I was, they would know that. Hell, even Jen knew that…
And that was when it hit me. Jen.
It all suddenly made sense. Why they hadn’t asked me anything. Why the asshole suit had just clicked the gun against my head over and over without saying anything else. Why no one had asked me anything.
They weren’t torturing me. Well, they obviously were torturing me. But they were only doing it by proxy. They didn’t care about what I had to say at all.
There was only one explanation for this—they had Jen. They were making her watch. The only person on earth who would give a shit about me being tortured was Jen. And I knew someone had to be forcing her to watch this bullshit through one of those mirrored windows.
And then I felt her. It was only then that I was one hundred percent sure that she wasn’t dead. And not only that, that she was under the same roof—behind one of the mirrors. I couldn’t see her—not with my eyes. But at that moment, I definitely could feel her. Behind the nearest window.
And I stared at it, absolutely sure she couldn’t hear me. But I knew she could see me—I knew she would know that I was aware of her presence. I had been an idiot—I should have known the second that I woke up in that room what was going on. I had just been waiting for the good cop-bad cop routine to start. I had been waiting for them to ask me something—to demand some sort of information from me.
I didn’t know how to telegraph to her that I was fine. I was scared shitless—mostly because of the fucking water—but I knew I was going to be fine. But there was no way she could know that. I had promised to tell her everything, but how I could I have told her about this? How could I have told her that I was a highly trained … hell, I didn’t even know what I was. Operative might have been the right term. I was a highly trained, skilled operative. I did what had to be done, nothing more and nothing less. Being in love with Jen didn’t fit in with that line of work, but none of that mattered now.
The only thing that mattered at that moment was that they were making her watch. They were making her believe that they were going to kill me if she didn’t tell them what they wanted to hear. But she didn’t know anything—she didn’t have any information that they could have wanted. She wouldn’t be able to help them further their cause, whatever it was. And even if she did know something—even if there was some piece of information that only Jen knew, I knew I could get myself through this. I would do it for her. Just knowing at that moment that she was alive was enough to get me through anything.
I found the ability to breathe again, knowing I had to tell her not to talk to them. “Don’t tell them anything, Jen.” I wasn’t sure she could hear me through the double-sided windows, even though I shouted it as loudly as I could. “Don’t say a word.”
They shoved something in my mouth then, just like I knew they would. It wasn’t only to shut me up though I was sure that was a bonus for them. No, they put that cloth in my mouth so I couldn’t breathe—so I would feel like I was drowning when they put my head in the water. Not that I wouldn’t actually be drowning—I knew I could die from this. Shit like that happened all the time, especially if the guys who were carrying out the torture didn’t know what the hell they were doing. I just had to hope that they did. It made my stomach turn wishing that—that these guys were so skilled in the art of torture that they wouldn’t fuck it up on me and actually kill me.
As they blindfolded me and I felt myself tipping backward, I did everything I could to send her a message telepathically. Not that I believed that I really could, but it gave me something to hold onto. I just didn’t want her to be afraid for me. I wanted her to know that I could handle it, no matter how much I might have been terrified of feeling that water cover my head.
But before I felt the first splash of water—before I could even feel wet at all—I heard it. It made my blindfold damp with tears before a drop of water from the pool below me had even had a chance to touch me. It was the same sound I’d heard during the nightmare I’d had before waking up in this room.
I heard Jen scream.
4
“He can’t hear you. And the only way you can help him is to tell us what you know.”
I clamped my hand over my mouth, stifling the scream that had somehow escaped it despite my best efforts to remain silent.
My stomach was as hard as stone, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what seemed like a horrible spy movie unfolding on the other side of the window in front of me. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t bear not to. They hadn’t even said anything to him—they hadn’t told him what was going on.
I couldn’t hear through the glass. And they kept telling me that he couldn’t hear me either. But the way he looked at me before they put that blindfold on him—before they tipped his head into the water the first time. He had to have seen me. It felt like he had stared right into my soul. And I couldn’t make out what he was shouting, but I definitely saw him yelling something. He absolutely said my name. He knew I was here. I’m not sure how he knew—not exactly, but I could see that he knew.
And I had no clue what these guys in their gray suits wanted. They had shown me pictures. Demanded to know who the people in the photos were—and they had held a gun to Brandon’s head while they were talking to me. Interrogating me. But I didn’t know any of them. I had never seen any of them before in my life.
It had to be mistaken identity—them thinking I knew something I didn’t. My life seemed so … small. I couldn’t even think of ten people I knew well enough to identify in a photograph, let alone these people that they were telling me I did know. And they didn’t believe me. But they weren’t torturing me—not my body, anyway. But they were definitely fucking with my head. Making me watch Brandon take the abuse that I was sure they would have been more than happy to inflict upon me if I hadn’t demanded special treatment from them when I had arrived there. I knew it would be me on that board, being tipped into the water over and over if I hadn’t used my station in life to get out of the torture I definitely deserved more than Brandon.
Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know who my father is?
Christ, I hadn’t pulled that shit since junior high. I had been so eager to run from it before today—to stay as far away from that life as I could. But it had seemed like a good idea when I had said those things, however many hours ago it had been now. When I used my father’s influence to get them to leave me alone.
And they had backed right off, as though I had said something almost magical. The magic words that had caused Brandon to be pulled into the room and be beaten to a near-unconscious state. My haughty comeback to them had made this happen—if I had just kept my mouth shut he wouldn’t having his head dropped into the water I knew he was terrified of even looking at.
I dropped my hand from my mouth, shaking my head but unable to move my gaze from the scene before me. “I swear I don’t know those people.” My eyes filled with tears as I watched Brandon’s hands clench as he was about to be tipped into the water again, his knuckles as white as snow. “If I knew, I would tell you. I
promise you.”
The one I had come to think of as Good Cop touched my shoulder. “If you help us, we can tell them to stop in there. We need you to tell us, Jenna.”
I shook my head, unable to tear my gaze away from the horrors going on in the room on the other side of the window.
It should be me in there. They should be torturing me.
I didn’t really believe that either Brandon or I deserved to be tortured. But the men in the room on this side of the window seemed sure that I knew something I didn’t.
“Think back, Jenna. When you first got to Waterville.” Good Cop touched my shoulder again. “It wasn’t that long ago.”
“I didn’t know anyone there. I’m telling you the truth.”
The voice of the other man was gruff, almost unfeeling. “Keep going.” I could hear Bad Cop behind me, talking into the microphone again—telling the people who were with Brandon to continue their torture of him.
It was so much worse than going through it myself—that was why they were doing this. Making me watch Brandon nearly die with every tip of that stupid board. I cringed, a cold chill running through my body as his head hit the water again. They held him under for what seemed like an eternity before finally allowing him the shortest breath through his nose. I couldn’t even imagine how horrible it was for him.
“I swear—“
The gruff voice spoke before I could even finish my sentence. “Again.” Bad Cop interrupted me and the board tipped down again before Brandon had even had a second to get a breath.
“Stop. Just … please.” I tried to spin in my chair to look at Bad Cop, but Good Cop had hold of the back, forcing me to watch. “Let me see the pictures again.”
Good Cop nodded, touching my forearm before allowing the chair to turn so that I didn’t have to see what they were doing to Brandon. He scooted his chair closer to mine, straddling it before pushing the photos on the table closer to me. “Take your time.”
I’m sure my eyes were even more pleading than my voice. “Give Brandon a minute, then.”
Good Cop nodded, motioning at Bad Cop.
Bad Cop nodded in return. He spoke into the microphone, his gaze averting mine. “Hold.”
Tears welled behind my eyelids, a sudden lightness settling in my chest. Just knowing he wasn’t going to be tipped into that water again for a minute was more of a relief than I had ever felt.
I searched the photos again, but none of the subjects was even vaguely familiar to me. Except one. Maybe. And I wasn’t beyond lying at that point—if only to spare Brandon from being tortured for even a moment longer.
My throat was thick with guilt—not only because I wasn’t positive I actually did recognize the man in that photo, but also because I had seen what these men were capable of doing. It should have been an easy choice. It should have been easy for me to send a man I didn’t know to face an uncertain future. It would have meant I didn’t have to continue to watch Brandon be tortured. And even though it should have been easy, for some reason, it was anything but. I just wanted them to stop this ridiculous line of questioning. I didn’t know anything and it wasn’t fair that Brandon was the one being punished for my lack of knowledge.
My chin dipped to my chest and I slumped into my chair. I pointed at the man I thought might have been familiar. “Him. I think he worked at the tavern. I’m just not sure.”
Good Cop nodded. “Okay. But we need to know if he met with your father. Or any of his operatives. Dates and times would be beneficial, too, particularly for your boyfriend in there.”
Shit. How in the hell was I supposed to know that? I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m just not sure.”
Bad Cop had spoken before I had even glanced up from the photo of the man. “Again.”
I had to force myself not to let any tears fall. I still wasn’t sure how I had even come to be here at all. Daniel didn’t want to come into the city with me—too many cameras. It had all happened so fast—the driver of the car had pulled up to the curb. Before I even had a chance to get out of the car, four men had a bag over Brandon’s head, pushing him into a different car. I was pulled out of the cab, pushed into another car and then we were here.
But these weren’t the same kinds of dumbasses that had taken me to see Daniel. These weren’t the same kind of bumbling fools that always seemed to be around whenever Ryan or Daniel were trying to pull something. Those kinds of guys were only trying to get their greedy needs met with something they thought they could get from Brandon.
This seemed much more official with almost military-like precision. It had to be a government operation, which was why I had pulled the daddy card in the first place. If they were some part of the government, whether it was military or some intelligence agency, telling them Senator Davis was my father should have been enough to have me and Brandon released.
But they already seemed to know exactly who I was. And telling them who my father was had only made it worse—it was getting Brandon water boarded.
“I think … I’m not sure. I think he might have met with Cade. But…” I couldn’t be sure of anything I was saying, but it seemed like the best chance Brandon had for getting out of that room and off the narrow board he was strapped to.
Bad Cop didn’t even hesitate. “Again. Hold him under for awhile this time.”
I flinched at the words, tears filling my eyes again as I imagined what was going on behind me. They couldn’t really have wanted me to lie—could they? Why would they want useless information? None of this made any sense—and what they were doing to Brandon made the least sense of all.
I glared across at Bad Cop. “Why are you doing this? Why Brandon?”
Good Cop smiled, touching my forearm again. “We’ll get to the man you’re calling Brandon in a bit. Right now—“
I interrupted him by pulling my arm away from his hand, yanking it free of the grip I hadn’t realized he had on my forearm. I knew this game—the good cop-bad cop thing, but I didn’t know anything about the photos they seemed to care so much about. And it was beginning to piss me off that they had pulled me into this situation at all. “Look, I told you, I’m not sure—“
Bad Cop interrupted this time. “And we don’t believe you. We obviously have reason to believe you’re lying to us, Jenna.” He pushed the button on his headset again. “Again—keep him under until he’s close this time.”
My heart banged and I felt my chest heave at the words. They were going to kill him—they must not have needed anything from him, as hard as it was for me to believe. I could have never imagined that there would ever be a time that I would have information more useful than Brandon. That I would have some secret that was so valuable … except that I knew I didn’t. And there was no way to convince them. No way to make them understand that I was just a naive dolt who should have just married one of the men my father thought would make a good political match. I could have spent my life going to charity events, shopping for new gowns that would get me on the best-dressed lists in the tabloids. Any of that would have been better than this. I would have even married that dick from Iowa if I had known it would have saved Brandon from the horrors he was facing in that room. Alone. I would have done anything to have been able to save him.
But nooo. I had to go and get myself in another heap of trouble of my own doing—not that I had any idea how I had managed to get myself caught up in whatever this was.
Bad Cop interrupted my momentary pity party. “Why don’t you turn around and watch? His legs will start to twitch any second now—“
Good Cop spun me around in my chair to face the window again as Bad Cop spoke. My scream was the only thing that interrupted him as I caught sight of what looked like a very lifeless Brandon.
I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t live another second knowing it was my fault this was happening to him.
5
“You have to stop doing that.” Bad Cop stood, clapping a hand over my mouth to stop my sobbing screams. “It’s rea
lly annoying.”
My chest heaved under my uncontrollable sobbing as I waited to see any sign of life from the man I loved. It had seemed like an eternity before I saw the barest twitch—only the slightest movement of one of Brandon’s feet. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I twisted my head away from the hand covering my mouth.
“Just stop. Please. Stop doing that to him.”
Good Cop’s hand rested on my shoulder. “You have the power to stop this anytime, Jenna. We need some solid, reliable information about James here…” He cleared his throat, almost as if he was covering a mistake. “The man you identified in the photo.”
James. The name didn’t even ring a bell. I was sure I hadn’t ever known a James in Waterville. And even if I had, I didn’t know anything about what he would be doing with my father.
I shook my head. “My father never knew I was in Waterville. He was searching for me.” I motioned with my head, nodding at the window into the room where Brandon was being held. “Brandon was searching for me. He was doing it for my father.” I nodded again to myself. That was what I had been told—it was what made sense. If my father had known where I was all along, it wouldn’t have made sense that he hadn’t told Brandon. Marian had helped me hide there. Marian and Cade and Krystal had helped me—they weren’t helping my father. He couldn’t have known. Because if my father had known where I was, then Brandon would have known…
“Let’s talk about Brandon, then.” Good Cop cocked his head toward the window. “Him.”
“Okay. Just stop doing that to him. Please…” Just thinking about what they were doing to him made me wish it had been me on that board. I would have done anything to trade spots with Brandon at that moment, and I was sure I would fall apart myself if I had to see his body go limp even once more.
