Broken - Anniversary Edition (Broken Trilogy Book 4)

by J. L. Drake

  He chews on the inside of his cheek.

  I catch Logan watching me. He smiles and seems impressed. I’m impressed, and I’m having fun.

  “Next Friday, ten p.m., I’m taking you down.” Mark points a finger at me as he scoops the chips into a bin. “I will figure you out.” He laughs and stands.

  I feel myself smiling and really enjoying the company of these guys. I think I may be making friends. The idea thrills yet terrifies me. Can I really be easing back into a normal-feeling life so soon?

  “Good night, guys.” I wave, and they head off to their bedrooms. Logan walks me to my room and does a quick check for me. I know he is trying to make me feel safer.

  “How long until this storm passes?” I glance out the window.

  “Forecast says this is a big one. Will you be all right here, or should I get Abigail?”

  I turn, shaking my head. “No, I’ll be all right.” I watch him light my fireplace. “Logan, thanks for tonight. You didn’t have to involve me.”

  He drops the matchstick into the flames and moves to stand in front of me.

  “It was fun, and I’m glad you joined us.” He waits for a clap of thunder to pass. “Try to get some sleep. Remember, Abigail is just across the hall, and I’m two doors down, on your right.”

  I nod.

  “Safest place you can be is in this house.” His eyebrows pinch together like he’s thinking as his eyes burn into mine.

  I’m very aware of my stomach fluttering.

  He moves slowly—making his actions known. “Can I see something?”

  I nod, feeling very comfortable with this man.

  He brushes my hair away from my face and runs his hot fingers along my temple, stopping at my cheek.

  I fight to not close my eyes and bask in the warm feeling that’s spreading throughout my body. I let out a small puff of air that I hadn’t realized I was holding in.

  His eyes close. He looks like he wants to say something but stops himself. “Good night.” He drops his hand and heads for the door but pauses. “Oh, and, Savannah?”

  I turn to look at him, still feeling the touch of his hand on my face.

  “Please call me Cole.”

  Wait! What…your name is Cole…Cole Logan?

  Chapter Five

  Savannah

  I toss and turn all night, now having a face to go with the name I’ve heard so much about. I find myself dreaming about Cole “popping three” into a sweaty man’s forehead. How can such a nice, caring man be a stone-cold killer? I know it’s their job to take down bad guys, but the way the guys talk about him, it’s as though he doesn’t have a soul. Like Cole and Logan are two completely different people. I should have known Logan was his last name—that’s how they address everyone here. Abigail does speak fondly of him, and she seems to have a heart of gold. I rub my face roughly.

  Why am I so bothered by this? Why do I care about him, anyway? All I am is a broken victim worth less than a frigging down payment for a house! It’s not like I can even figure out myself anymore. Finally, I give up, kicking off the covers and staring at the ceiling, and wait until morning.

  I avoid Lo—Cole for the next four days, mainly staying locked in my room. I’m fine with not being around people. Some days I crave it, other times I don’t. I love my balcony, and I find that if I sit directly in the right corner near the wall, no one can tell I’m out there. I ask Abigail if she could have Dr. Roberts come to my room for our Monday session. I don’t offer an explanation, and she doesn’t ask. I can tell she is concerned about me hibernating, but I assure her I just need some time alone to “process.” It was, after all, what I had been doing for the past seven months. At least this time it was by choice.

  I rub my thumb around my middle finger methodically while a flashback flickers in front of me. Then, suddenly, I am there, reliving it moment by moment.

  “Where are you right now, Savannah?”

  I hear the doc’s words, but they aren’t totally registering.

  “Where you are? Is it safe?”

  Safe? I think then slowly shake my head.

  “Tell me what you’re seeing.”

  “I’m at the place where they took me. I’m so scared. My knee really hurts. It keeps throbbing, and it feels warm and sticky, so I know I’m bleeding.” I pause, trembling. “There’s an American man here speaking to the others in English.” I swallow a growing lump. “Someone throws me to the ground. My knees hit the floor hard—it feels like brick or stone. My hands are tied behind me, and when I fall forward, I hit my face. I keep sucking the cloth bag they put over my head into my mouth when I try to breathe. They yank me back up to my knees, and I can see their shadows moving around in front of me. They keep yelling at each other.”

  “Okay, you’re doing really well, Savannah. Can you make out what they’re saying?”

  “T-the American is shouting something about proof—needing confirmation.” My breathing picks up, and my voice is shaky. “‘Es ella!’ one man shouts. I know what it means. He’s saying ‘It’s her!’ The American man doesn’t seem to believe him, then the cloth is pulled off my face.” I can tell I’m crying, but I can’t stop this flashback…can’t help the terror that’s ripping through me. “It’s dark. I can make out small lights, but my vision is blurry. Someone flashes a bright light in my face. They grab my chin to hold me still.”

  “Can you see The American?”

  “I-I’m so scared, my heart’s beating out of my chest. I can barely suck in a breath. The light shifts to the side for a moment, and I see him.”

  “The American?”

  “Y-yes,” I choke out. “His face is covered by shadow, but I can feel his eyes glaring down at me. He steps forward and makes the other man let go of my chin. He’s standing in front of me. My face is just above his belt. He smells like something familiar, but I can’t figure out what it is. He’s asking me if I’m Savannah Miller. I look up at him, and I see his cheeks rise—he’s smiling at me. I’m begging for him to help me, but he just laughs, and I see at the last minute, he makes a fist. I thought he was going to punch me, but he ends up slapping me across my cheek instead. I fall with no way to protect my face and hit my head on the bricks. His boots flicker in the dim light. They’re so distinctive.”

  “What’s distinctive about them?”

  My head shakes back and forth, and I break out in a sob. “They leave me on the ground while they continue talking, like I don’t exist. I’m crying and pleading for them to let me go, but they ignore me.” I’m full-out sobbing now and hiccupping as I speak. “Who are these people, why have they taken me? Why?”

  “Savannah.” Dr. Roberts reaches out for me as I heave forward. “Come back to me. You’re safe.”

  I look up at his friendly face.

  “You’re safe, Savannah. You’re not there anymore.” He glances over my shoulder and shakes his head at something, but I’m too upset to care.

  “Then why does it feel like I am?” I cry. “Every time I close my eyes or let my mind wander, I go back to my personal hell. Those men took so much from me. How do you come back from that? I hate them!” I curl myself into my protective ball. “How can anyone treat a human the way they treated me? I was nothing more than a scrap of human waste to them.”

  “You’re not a scrap of anything, Savannah. You are a strong woman. You survived for those seven months, and you didn’t let them beat you down.”

  “I didn’t want to live, though, Doc—I wanted to die,” I admit, gripping my chair and sucking in deep breaths. “I just had nothing to do it with, so I decided to starve myself. It was the only thing I—” I point to my chest, “the only thing I could control.” I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, trying to calm down. “Tell me, Doc, what does it mean when a person is willing to give up and die? Even now, after a miracle happened and I was saved, I still can’t eat. When I do eat, I feel guilty, like I’m betraying myself,” I hiss at him.

  He takes off his glasses, cleaning the lenses. “Wh
at do you think that means?”

  I roll my eyes. “A question with a question. Classic, Doc.”

  He leans back and crosses his legs. “I’d say you hit the lowest point a person can go, so you made a promise to yourself that you intended to keep. Then you got rescued—something you never thought could happen—and when you left that room, perhaps you left a piece of yourself behind.” He thinks for a moment. “Savannah, you’ve only been free for three weeks. Give yourself a chance to heal, a chance for your brain to catch up with what has happened. In time, things will go back to normal. Maybe not exactly the same as it was, but a new normal that will feel right.”

  I nod through a hiccup.

  “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard when I came to work for Shadows. I have helped people see that, yes, they’ve been through something I’ll never understand, but I can still help them find their way back home.” He leans forward. “Funny thing is, sometimes going home is going backward for them. Some find starting a new life somewhere else is their ticket to freedom.” He raises one hand to rub his jaw. “Let this place protect you and also heal you. You’re lucky. Not everyone gets to have this privilege. Just keep telling yourself that you’re free, you have a voice, and you have choices.”

  “All right,” I whisper. His words make the ache dull momentarily.

  “Now,” he stands, picking up his bag, “our session ran a little bit long today.” I glance at his watch. We have been talking for two and a half hours. “Have you taken the horses out for a ride yet? If not, you should. There’s plenty of countryside to see. Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Cole

  Cole checks his watch for the fifth time in sixty seconds, waiting impatiently for Dr. Roberts to finish this session with Savannah. He doesn’t have time to waste; he needs to know what the good Doc got out of her this morning. Mark Lopez, his best friend and one of his most trusted men, had overheard their conversion from the patio. He said she sounded really upset and thought maybe the doc had made a small breakthrough. Cole wanted to check on her himself and make sure she was okay.

  He hasn’t seen Savannah since that night in her room when he had wanted to tell her how he felt. As usual, his pride got in the way, and he couldn’t. He knew better than to cross a line with a “guest,” of course. It was totally unprofessional and not like him at all. He knew she was avoiding him, although Abigail assured him that she just needed some alone time. Kidnap victims tended to take one step forward and two steps back, so he was letting her be, but when Mark came to him, there was nothing he could think of other than making sure she was all right.

  He marched right down the hallway and burst into the room. In hindsight, he was glad they were out on the balcony. He felt like a Neanderthal with his lack of courtesy. When Cole moved toward the open doors and heard her sobbing, the doctor caught his eye and shook his head for him not to interrupt. Once he saw she was all right to some degree, he nodded, leaving the room.

  What is with this woman? Getting him to drop everything and go find her right in the middle of a conference call? Living with two generations of Special Forces men lends itself to a certain kind of lifestyle. It’s a structured, no bullshit, do-your-job-and-do-it-well way of life. He had girlfriends before, but never had much time for them with the family business. A few women never liked the fact he couldn’t share much, and how he’d disappear for days at a time. He didn’t find he cared enough to let them in. It was easier to hold them at arm’s length, especially after the last woman. Yeech!

  But with Savannah, it’s different. From the moment his eyes met hers, he couldn’t shake the protective feeling he had about her. He leans his forehead against the wall with a groan. His father said this could happen one day, but he never believed it. He just wasn’t the relationship type; he was married to his job. Christ, get a grip, man!

  He pushes off the wall—he will not let this ridiculous feeling cloud his judgment. She’s just another pretty face who needs help. He lets out a steady, long breath. Stop thinking about her! It’s just that this damn woman is keeping him up at night. He needs to separate himself from her, and it needs to start now.

  Suddenly, her bedroom door opens. He takes a step forward, ready to pounce on the good doctor, when instead she comes out, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

  “Oh, hi.” Her wide, watery eyes look up at him.

  Shit. “Are you all right?” What was that you were just saying? He groans internally.

  She nods, forcing a smile. Is she nervous? She’s acting nervous.

  “Yes—mm, I just need some fresh air.”

  Holy shit, she’s nervous; all the signs are there. He holds up his hand to stop her, but Dr. Roberts comes out, scanning his notes. She slides around him and hurries down the hall. Slippery little woman. He shakes his head. She is probably rattled from her session.

  “Oh, Cole.” Dr. Roberts holds up his recorder. “We should talk.”

  “So, no real description of The American, just that he was there and confirmed she was who they said she was.” Cole clicks the audio recorder off, plugging it into the USB cord. He hits a key, uploading the session onto his computer.

  “Only that he had flashy boots,” the doctor adds. “Honestly, in my professional opinion, she doesn’t know anything. You’d have to be one hell of an actress to pull this off.”

  Cole agrees with the doctor. Not that he thinks Savannah is anything but innocent—it just feels good to have someone confirm it. “Wow.” He shakes his head. “This is the third case with this son of a bitch. I wonder what his connection is.”

  Dr. Roberts rubs his face in thought. “I don’t know, but it’s still beyond me that they kept her alive all this time. Why not make the exchange? Granted, fifty grand is peanuts, but they’ve had seven months to up it to a million. It cost them money to keep her fed, not that she ate much.”

  Cole’s stomach turns, remembering what she said about making a promise to herself.

  “I don’t get it. It’s like they kept her on ice. What were they waiting for? I think there’s a lot more to this case than what we’re seeing.” Cole taps his pen on the arm of the chair. “I think you’re right. We’ll keep her father in the dark. I don’t trust it won’t go public. There are leaks everywhere. Too many eyes on him.”

  “Yeah, the man sure loves the media,” Dr. Roberts mutters.

  “Overall, what are your thoughts on Savannah adjusting here?” Cole has to ask. He needs to know what is making her nervous. Was it today’s session or something else?

  “I’d say she’s doing well. Just the fact that she started talking after fourteen days was impressive. She’s an interesting woman. She picks up on a lot more than you’d think. Watch her when you’re in a group. She studies people’s behavior, then once she feels she understands them, she’ll engage. I suspect her trust in people was tested a lot while she was held captive, perhaps even before.” He reaches for his bag. “I feel after some time she’ll come around, but don’t be taken by her feisty behavior. It could be a front. She uses it as a shield to keep people who make her uncomfortable at arm’s length. Though if you read her file, she is a bit of a spitfire at times.” He stands, fixing his tie. “One thing her physician and I agree on is she was not raped. She shows no signs of any sexual assault.”

  Cole sinks further into his chair. Thank fuck!

  “That being said, it sure opens up another whole box of questions.”

  “Yeah, it sure does.” Cole leans forward and shakes his hand. “Okay, Roberts, see you tomorrow.”

  Cole rises, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window. He tucks his hands into his pockets and watches the clouds float across the mountains. He can’t wrap his head around it—no sexual abuse, no million-dollar ransom. They keep her alive for over seven months, and despite her psychological state, she’s relatively all right. It just doesn’t add up. He needs to start laying out the pieces to this growing puzzle. They’re not going to let Savannah get away that e
asily.

  I decide to head to the lake in search of a canoe instead of a horseback ride. I don’t know how to ride a horse, and I don’t feel like learning. I’ve had way too emotional a day to tumble ass up in a bush somewhere.

  I step carefully into the fiberglass boat, balance with my hands on the sides, and gingerly push off from the dock. The paddle glides through the water, sending me away from the house. It’s not that I don’t want to be here—I do—I just need to get away for a bit to clear my head. I feel emotionally raw from today’s session, and I have some things I’d like to mull over and then tuck away so I can make my peace.

  The lake is large, and before I know it, the house looks tiny, although I know it is far from it. I was bored the other day and counted sixteen bedrooms, two kitchens—and it has eight barbecues. I would have continued my exploring, but I ran into Keith, who is also known as Beta Seven, getting ready to head out for his shift. He showed me some of his gear and told me the weather in Montana is nothing compared to the heat and sandstorms they’ve seen in Afghanistan. I wanted to ask about his time there, but the look on his face encouraged me not to.

  I tuck the paddle away and lean back, bringing myself to the bottom of the canoe with my feet propped up on the seat. I stare at the clouds, relishing the fact that I can. I drift for a long time. I tune in to every sound. I feel the armor around my chest slowly loosen, and today’s stress starts to melt away. I close my eyes. Yes, this is just what I need—me and nature.

  My eyes flutter open as a new sound finds me. It is almost like something is bobbing repeatedly to the surface. I can hear air bubbles. I pull myself up to a sitting position and take in my surroundings. Six pairs of eyes are staring at me through black goggles, mouths covered with oxygen masks, and six massive rifles resting on top of the water. Holy shit! I open my mouth and let go with one earth-shattering scream, making it bounce off the mountains. One person makes a move toward me, and I jump to my feet. The boat rocks, sending me into the water. The cold water is a shock to my system. It’s freezing. My breath is sucked from my lungs in a giant whoosh and doesn’t want to come back. I feel someone wrap their hands around my waist and pull me to the surface. I bat at their arms, kicking with all the strength I have. I scream and clock the nearest with an elbow, causing him to release me. I swim forward and lunge for the overturned boat when I hear my name being yelled.