“How did you survive this?”
He’d pondered the question many times. What kept him from slitting his own throat? And the answer was surprising.
“The only thing that kept me sane, the only gentle contact I had, was a stray cat. It was thin enough to slip in through a hole in the door. I used to trap mice for him, and I eventually got to the point where he let me pet him a while.”
“What was his name?”
“Cat.” He’d never presumed to name the creature. “And when I left that hellhole, I took him with me.”
“When you turned eighteen?”
“No, I was younger. The last man who owned me was kinder than the rest. At the very least, he treated me like a person, not an object.”
“He still hurt you.”
Ten nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, he still molested me, but I’d already been through so much. I was malnourished, lonely. And he taught me to read and write, and how to play the piano. He also helped me get my GED, and the paperwork I needed to make somethin’ of myself.”
Ten had trouble reconciling it. On the one hand, Frank had been fatherly, affectionate. And then at night, Frank had touched him, used his own raging adolescent hormones against Ten, until he didn’t know what to think.
He’d been furious with himself for feeling even an ounce of pleasure against his will, but he hadn’t been able to stop it. In some ways, Paul’s cruelty was much easier to face. At the very least there was a purity to it—no blurred lines, no culpability on Ten’s part. They had two distinct roles—abuser and victim.
With Frank, it had been one big gray area. If Frank had never touched Ten, he would’ve considered the man his father, his protector. And that hurt Ten more than anything Paul had done to him.
“You had to get false documents?”
“I couldn’t find the real ones.” In this day and age, a paper trail was necessary.
“So Tennessee isn’t your real name?”
“No, I don’t know what my real one is. Over the years, they called me different names, but Tennessee Ross is the name I chose for myself.”
Once he’d finished playing soldier boy, Ten wanted his own identity, one that he’d constructed for himself, free of anyone else’s influence.
“Ten, can I see you?” She gestured to his shades.
Ten wasn’t sure about revealing more of himself. He’d been wearing them for years, and it was second nature now. They offered him protection, a way to shield himself from others. Taking the glasses off made him feel even more naked then disrobing.
“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to push. You can leave them on if you want.”
“No, I should probably show you.” He gingerly pulled them off and laid the sunglasses on top of his pile of clothing.
She said nothing, but her oh-so-expressive face went slack.
He knew exactly what she was seeing. Channels had been carved into the skin around his eyes.
“What happened?”
“The man who held me captive earlier, Paul, kept me in the basement, and these marks are from him.”
Tears spilled from her eyes, and he captured one on the pad of his finger. Ten couldn’t believe she was crying for him. Then again, Aggie didn’t know all the terrible things he’d done, the people he’d killed. He probably didn’t deserve her sympathy or her tears.
“Why did he do that to you?”
Ten had trouble understanding it when he was a child, but since he’d killed other men in the military, he’d gotten a taste for it. Murder, torture, power—they were all drugs, and he was an addict, and so was Paul. Hurting others beat back the demons screaming inside him. If he pushed all of the anger and anguish onto someone else, Ten didn’t have to feel it anymore.
“Paul was a sadist, and he loved to hurt people, especially me. It made him feel better.”
“What a sick bastard. Why did he focus on the eyes?”
“No clue, but I think it was a game with him. Paul always threatened to cut the eyeballs out of my sockets, and he traced lines there.”
The brutal prick loved to hear him scream and holler, begging not to be blinded. He’d wanted Ten to feel like nothing, maybe it was Paul’s way of obliterating him, another thing he could rip away from Ten.
Ten shuddered at the memory of his own cries, the sheer terror he felt.
“And that’s why you wear shades?”
“Yes, and it gives me an air of mystery.” Ten snatched the glasses up once more and pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “Don’t you think?” He made a joke, trying to hide the fear and humiliation.
“I suppose.” Aggie seemed weary and he was exhausted, too.
“So now you know who I really am, the son of a whore, playactin’ at bein’ a gentleman.” Ten loved to put on airs, and he’d convinced himself if he acted the part, he might become one.
She shook her head. “That’s not what I see.”
“No?”
“You are a gentleman.”
He scarcely dared to believe her. All of his life, he’d been trying to better himself, rise above his upbringing, but he’d failed. Ten had become a murderer, a criminal, and liar, but at least he was nobody’s punching bag anymore.
“You really think so?”
“I know so.”
And then she rested her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. Her belief in him buoyed his spirits. Maybe he could be more, do more, with her at his side.
She kissed his shoulder, and he shivered.
Aggie scooted closer, and Ten knew he wanted Aggie to see him, all of him.
She seemed expectant, waiting for something to happen.
Aggie licked her lips, and he tracked the movement—her little pink tongue, swiping over her luscious, full lower lip.
Ten could almost taste her, like ripe fruit. Before he knew what was happening, he swayed closer, his forehead resting against hers, and his mouth inches from her own. Their breath mingled, lips parted, and he felt like he was drowning.
Aggie brushed his mouth with her own, and he groaned, yearning for more. His fingers seemed to have minds of their own, because they sought the softness of her cheeks, settled into her thick hair. And then he was cupping her head, and his lips were on hers, light as a feather at first, and then his tongue darted out to taste her, slip into her mouth.
She sighed, moaning a bit, and he was drunk on the sound.
Ten wrapped his arms around her, reeling her in, so he could kiss her again, and again. Aggie didn’t resist, merely opened for him, letting Ten lead the way. They were deep, mind-altering kisses that made his cock stiffen and his breath come fast.
When they both pulled away to gasp for air, she opened her mouth to speak and then shook her head.
“Say whatever you were going to, it’s okay.” He’d already opened up to her, and Ten saw no reason to guard his secrets now.
“So have you, um, had sex before? On your own terms, I mean, with someone you actually wanted to sleep with?”
He nodded. “I saw a professional.”
“You mean a workin’ girl?”
“Yes, I visited a prostitute when I was in the military. I wanted to see…” Ten trailed off. “I’d never had sex, I was molested, which is a big difference, and I had to see what it was like, and how I responded.”
After his eighteenth birthday, when he’d been released, Ten had been bewildered by the outside world. Suddenly, he could make his own choices, do whatever he pleased.
The freedom had gone straight to his head—both of them.
Because he’d only been with men, against his will, he’d been curious about his own sexuality, wondering if he was gay. Sometimes, when his abusers touched him, he’d felt things, a physical response, even if he didn’t want their attentions. Later he’d learned the body sometimes reacted on its own, regardless of what a person wanted.
“How did it happen?”
“I went to this chicken ranch outside of Vegas, and I dropped a lot of mone
y on her.” He’d wanted a situation where he called the shots, where he had some control.
“You didn’t have to go all the way to Sin City to find a prostitute.”
“No, but I wanted a legal one who wasn’t being abused by her pimp. I just couldn’t bring myself to—”
“Victimize someone else?”
“Yes.” It was one thing to kill someone, but he couldn’t abide defiling an innocent person. No one deserved to be treated like a piece of meat.
“I understand. And what was the verdict?”
“It was interesting.”
Deborah was an older woman, in her late thirties with long red hair and large breasts. He’d enjoyed his time in her bed, even if it had been empty. She’d been patient with him, teaching him the proverbial ropes, but he’d still felt awkward and clumsy in her arms.
He’d gone back to visit her a handful of times until he’d answered some questions for himself, but he’d never had the inclination to pursue a woman. While he’d taken care of his own needs, Ten couldn’t stand the thought of making himself vulnerable to another human being again. Not until Aggie.
Her brows raised.
“I enjoyed parts of it.” Touching her had been pleasurable, and he’d liked reaching his own orgasm, although he’d made himself come plenty of times.
“But not everything?”
“No, something was missin’.” Ten couldn’t quite put his finger on what had gone wrong.
“Maybe because you didn’t feel anythin’ for her?”
“Could be.” He lifted a shoulder. “I care about you.”
She smiled. “And I care about you, too.”
Ten’s chest swelled and all of a sudden he was a bit giddy, dazed.
“Will you stay in here with me tonight? We’ll just lie beside one another, no funny business.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And what if I want funny business?”
She blinked. “Do you?”
“No, I was just curious.”
“Come on, let’s lie down together.”
Giggling, she rolled over, her back to his front, and Ten found himself wrapped around her like a blanket. She leaned into him, and he buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair.
Ten drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.
Interlude
Sixteen years ago…
“The man should be horsewhipped.”
Elijah sat on a cold steel examination table swinging his legs. His new owner, Frank, had collected him this evening from the hellish basement and they’d driven for hours and hours until they reached a medical clinic.
He didn’t disagree with Frank but didn’t say so.
It was the middle of the night, so no one was around.
The fluorescent lights overhead flickered and buzzed. The steel table beneath his legs was cold and covered by a scratchy paper sheet. He clucked his tongue as he worked on the wounds, disinfecting and bandaging the ones that hadn’t healed.
This man seemed kinder than the last. Maybe being with Frank wouldn’t be so bad. Although, he didn’t like the way his hands lingered on his skin, or the intense look he wore sometimes.
Frank had actually insisted Elijah call him by his first name. Along the way, he’d bought Elijah two fast food burgers, which he’d scarfed down in a matter of minutes.
They’d gone south, and with each passing mile, it became warmer and sunnier. The light had been almost blinding, and Elijah had closed his eyes, soaking in the sun. At first, they’d rolled down the windows and then he’d put on the air conditioning.
Later on, he’d stopped at a roadside stand and bought a bag of fresh oranges, and they’d tasted delicious. Elijah couldn’t remember having fresh fruit before, and he could’ve eaten the entire bag by himself.
“I’m sorry he hurt you. I’ve always known Paul had certain preferences, but I had no idea he’d go this far. I promise, he’ll never lay a hand on you again.”
Elijah sniffed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken kindly to him. His eyes burned and he closed them, afraid Frank would see.
Frank had even let him bring Cat along. He’d stopped at a pet store and bought a cardboard carrier to put him in. Even though Cat had yowled in protest for the first hour before tiring himself out, Frank hadn’t complained or gotten angry with Elijah.
Elijah had been tense and worried, whispering to Cat, trying to shush him. He’d been afraid he’d do something awful to the animal. Elijah always made sure Paul never found Cat in the room with him. He knew firsthand how cruel the man could be.
“Are you a doctor?”
“Yes, a pediatrician. I make a livin’ takin’ care of boys like you.”
Elijah enjoyed the man’s thick Southern drawl. Hmm, maybe I’ll start talking that way.
“And I’m gonna fix you up, Elijah, don’t you worry. You’re underweight for your age and height, but I can already see you have a healthy appetite. Once you put on a few pounds and spend some time outdoors, you’ll be fine.”
Since Elijah didn’t know how to respond, he stayed silent. Frank would let him go outside? Elijah scarcely dared to hope.
“I want us to be more than friends. Consider me family.” He snapped his fingers. “Yes, think of me as your guardian.” And yet Frank was more than clinical, or fatherly—squeezing, touching him.
Just once, he’d like to be left alone, but things were looking up.
He had a full belly, his furry best friend was with him, and Frank hadn’t threatened or hurt him today. Elijah relaxed, the tension dissipating. In a few moments, he had trouble keeping his eyes open, and he swayed.
“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”
Elijah stifled a yawn. “Yes.”
“Once you get dressed, we’ll head back to my place. I’ve got a room ready for you.”
“I have a bedroom?”
“Yes, and it’s just ready and waitin’ for you. You’ve got your own television, too.”
“Wow. I won’t be sleeping in the basement?” Elijah had to check to be sure he hadn’t misheard. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Of course not.” He took Elijah by the shoulders and turned him around. “It’s important you listen to me. If anyone asks, I’m your guardian, understand? I’ve contacted an, er, friend of mine and he’ll create the proper paperwork.”
“Okay.”
“Good boy. And while you’re with me, we’ll see about continuin’ your studies. You’ve been to school before, right?”
“Sort of. The man before the last one…”
“Michael?”
The men who’d held him had a loose connection of sorts, though Elijah didn’t know where they’d met or how they got together. He had the feeling he wasn’t the first boy they’d passed around, and Elijah certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Elijah nodded. “Yes, he homeschooled me, taught me how to read and write.”
Michael hadn’t been awful. He had a lot of rules, and doled out punishment, but nothing like Frank’s torture sessions.
“Excellent, then I’ll work on a solution. I’m not sure about the logistics of sendin’ you to school, but maybe we can work out a compromise? If you’re diligent enough on your lessons, you can work toward your GED. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please.”
He’d like to go to school even more, but getting his GED was something at least. It was better than staring at pictures of Tennessee and daydreaming.
I might have a future after all.
Chapter Twelve
What the fuck am I doing?
Ten rested his palms against the tile and rolled his shoulders, trying to drive the tightness in his muscles away. He bowed his head, letting the hot water sluice over him. A few minutes ago, he’d hopped in the shower, leaving Aggie in the other room.
Last night he hadn't gotten much sleep. He wasn't used to sharing his bed with another person, but it hadn't disturbed him. No, he�
��d enjoyed himself, appreciated the contact with Aggie.
Somehow, when he held her, Ten felt a bit less shattered.
So he’d stayed awake as much as he could, watching as she sighed in her sleep, rolling over to get closer to him. He'd held on to Aggie throughout the night, clutching her.
Ten was afraid, and he hated to admit it.
For years, he hadn’t felt much of anything. What if he lost her? What if he needed her and she was no longer there?
Her life was in jeopardy and in a split second she could be gone.
Losing her would be devastating, and he didn't know what to do about it. Ten was at a loss for how to deal with the onslaught of emotion. He was used to being even keel, aloof.
Part of him missed his objectivity, the disconnectedness he’d cultivated for so long.
He’d begun to ponder what would happen after they confronted Santiago, assuming they were still alive and all. Would she drift away again? Would he be reduced to peering into her windows at night?
Last night, he’d bared his soul to her, and the experience was a mixture of terrifying and liberating. She hadn’t shunned him, or looked at him as though he were damaged, even though he was.
Maybe because she had her own scars to bear. They were both wounded and muddling through the best they could. In her own way, Aggie kept people at arm’s length too.
His mixed emotions hadn’t been the only thing keeping him awake.
Ten had been aroused off and on for hours. His cock had swelled from the proximity to her. Even now, it lay against his stomach, the head wine-dark and hungry. For the most part, he ignored the needs of his body, sublimated them into a rage, but this one refused to be denied.
So how the fuck do I ask for more?
Ten didn’t have a clue. He was more comfortable shooting people than talking to them.
Ten took his cock in hand and pumped a couple of times, gritting his teeth at the rush of pleasure. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Aggie in his bed, only this time she was laying down, waiting for him, wanting him.
He grasped the shower handle and turned it all the way to the right, cold water shot out of the faucet, and he grimaced at the sudden change in temperature. The icy blast slid over his skin, putting out the fire. His body cooled down along with the chilly water.
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