There are only two doors left when she screams.
It's a sound torn right from the darkest terrors of my dreams.
I'm gonna kill a motherfucker.
Another agonized cry rends the air before being cut off. My heart constricts. God, please don’t let me be too late. No one causes my girl to make that sound and lives to talk about it. I don’t give a shit what the cost is, whoever is hurting her is a dead man.
The door splinters but doesn't give way under the force of my first kick, so I follow it with another, knocking it loose from its hinges. I toss it out of my way. The sight that greets me makes my blood boil in my veins. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. Only raise my gun to take him out for having the audacity to strip my girl naked and lay his hands on her.
Her amber eyes lock on mine for a fleeting moment. They are swollen and bruised on her battered face.
Her voice rasps out a thready whisper as she tells me she knew I would come for her just before she slumps in the grasp of the big man clutching her bare form against his chest. He scowls at me, muttering to himself and whispering in her ear. He must see my intentions on my face, because he smiles at me snatching up a knife from the table beside him.
“You can’t have her,” he snarls, then, pressing his face into her hair, he mumbles, “We will be together soon, Claire,” as he slashes across her chest with an awkward motion.
Blood pours down her body. I can smell smell it in the air, but I can’t freak out like I want to. Not yet, even though inside I’m screaming in denial of what I just witnessed.
Stepping toward them, his crazy eyes meet mine. With a slow breath I steady my hand. If I can’t give her anything else I will give her vengeance. I pull the trigger and watch with satisfaction as red blossoms across his chest and pull it again. He holds Faye close to his side even as he sinks to the ground with her. The knife drops from his hand.
I advance, kicking it away, and he looks at me before smoothing her hair off of her face.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, “just like her mama.” They are the last words he says.
He collapses to his side and I shove him out of my way, lifting the delicate weight of my beautiful girl into my arms. She is still breathing. I can see the soft throb of her pulse when her head lolls back over my arm.
Her skin is translucent, the cinnamon sprinkles of her freckles standing out starkly against her cheeks. Her mouth is bleeding and there are already deep bruises forming on her arms and shoulders. It's the knife cut that worries me the most—she is losing a lot of blood.
“Need a doc,” I shout into my mic as I struggle to remove my gear. I yank my t-shirt off over my head and press the cotton against the wound. It’s long but doesn’t look as deep as I first feared.
“Already on his way to you,” Blakes calm voice reassures me, and I belatedly remember the GPS trackers that allow him to always know our locations. He would have called for medical support when he heard the shots fired.
“Tell him to hurry his ass up.”
Faye still hasn't moved other than her shallow breathing, and for the first time today I allow myself to actually feel the fear coursing through me. Fear for her, fear for what my life would be like in a world without her. She has been my purpose for so long, I can't imagine living without her.
I know it sounds crazy, but she is my life.
John slides to his knees beside me, pushing my hands away and pulling back the bunched up fabric I’m pressing against her ribs. He doesn’t seem to notice her nakedness as he pulls back her eyelids and shines a light in her eyes.
“She's gonna be okay, Trav.” He looks at me for a moment. “I think she passed out from fear and shock more than anything else.”
His words hearten me enough that I am able to push my fluctuating emotions aside while I help him put a pressure dressing on the knife wound. It isn't deep, but is several inches long across her ribs. It's nothing that stitches won't fix, but she will have a scar that will remind us of this day for the rest of our lives.
John packs away his medical kit while I gather her tattered clothes and dress her limp body the best I can. Mike stands back, delivering a sitrep to Blake that I only half listen to. Blake reports back.
Xavier has Ana. He killed two men getting to her.
Mike, John and the others locked down six more, plus the two Xavier and I hogtied and locked in a bathroom.
There has been no sign of Dominic anywhere. Blake hasn't been able to find any evidence of him in Vegas at all today.
He's in hiding.
“Travis?” Faye's voice is barely a breath of sound, her throat bruised and swollen from being choked. I can see the imprint of his fingers already purpling her skin.
“I'm here, Sweetpea,” I say, lifting her into my arms and cradling her against my exposed chest. “Don't try to talk right now, okay?” I hardly recognize my own voice, rough with emotion and unshed tears.
She blinks languidly at me. She is clearly confused and trying to reorient herself. A corner of her battered lips lifts and she mouths the words “I love you” before wilting against me. Her tears trickle down my chest.
I hardly notice my own tears falling as I bury my face in her hair. “I love you too baby. So much. I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Faye
Low murmuring voices float in the darkness around me as consciousness slowly starts to return. My body is heavy. I’m so very, very tired but I can’t remember what I’ve been doing that wore me out so much.
I have no idea how long I have been out, but the darkness feels good. I don’t want to wake up. I'm safe, or at least I feel like I am. Maybe this is what it feels like to die.
That seems like such an odd thought. Why in the world am I thinking about being dead?
Of course I’m not dead. There is no way that I would hurt all over if I was dead. This whole train of thought is ridiculous. Needing to take stock of why I’m feeling so confused and out of sorts, I focus on what I can hear. I’m not ready to open my eyes yet. I'm in a vehicle. I think. There seems to be a rumble of tires on pavement. I’m warm and I’m not sitting in the seat. That’s weird, right? I know that it is, but I’m comfortable… kind of.
As I become more aware of my surroundings I start to feel the throbbing pain. So much of it. Everywhere. My face hurts, my throat too, but my ribs… that is where it is the worst. It’s like thinking about it makes my mind finally acknowledge that something is wrong. Searing pain rips through me and forces a moan past my lips as I try to open my eyes. They are swollen. My lids only lift enough to see that I am in a car and I’m not alone. I stir restlessly and try to sit up but firm hands hold me in place.
Silence falls around me and I can see just enough that I know that everyone is staring at me. It's a little awkward. I don't recognize any of these men.
Like a wave, the last two days come flooding back, and I scramble toward the door, ignoring my protesting body. I have to get away!
“It's okay, Pea. I've got you,” a voice whispers in my ear. Travis. I go limp against him. Oh, thank God! I knew he would come.
I know I’m missing something. A lot of somethings. The last thing I can remember is the smiling man. Travis busting down the door. Me telling Travis that I knew he would find me. I wanted him to know that I never gave up on him before I died. I was so sure I was going to. At least now my waking thoughts make sense.
I can’t recall anything after that.
Wetting my lips with my tongue I taste blood. I know it’s mine. I want to tell him that I love him. I need him to know. Now. I almost lost the chance to make sure that he knows how I feel. Have felt forever.
“Shh baby. Don't try to talk,” he murmurs against my cheek, his hand smoothing my tangled hair back from my face. “It’s not good for your throat.” He strokes me there with a gentle fingertip, but even that butterfly touch hurts. I feel bruised everywhere.
I nod my understanding and snuggle agai
nst his broad chest, nestling my face into the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. He smells of warm fresh sweat and the faint hint of freshly washed cotton.
I need to taste him. I whimper, more a gentle exhale, and let the very tip of my tongue slip out to touch his skin. I just can’t help myself. His salty flavor bursts across my taste buds and I start to cry. I’m alive. He’s alive. I didn’t think I would ever get this chance again. Small noises come from deep in my chest and he pulls me closer, petting my hair and whispering reassuring words into my ear as I begin to purge all the fear from the last two days. Every sob sears my throat like swallowing shattered glass, but I still can’t stop them.
After what feels like forever, but is probably only several minutes, the vehicle slows to a stop. I stifle my weeping becoming more aware of my surroundings. There are two men packed in the back seat with Travis and I. We are in a parking garage. Another one. I shudder and Travis hugs me tighter to him. I’m never parking underground again.
“Where is Ana?” I ask, pushing myself away from him. I have to force the words past my bruised and swollen airway.
Travis smiles gently into my eyes and time stops for a long heartbeat. I try to smile back, but my lips don’t seem to want to cooperate. It kind of feels like when you go to the dentist and your face is numb. Except it hurts. But still, his face is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and it makes me want to smile.
“With her husband,” he says, looking to one of the men, who nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Is she okay? Happy?” I croak.
“I didn't get a chance to talk to her. Or to Xavier. He brought her home while we were patching you up.”
I nod again, knowing that no more words will come from my tortured throat right now. My eyes meet his and plead for more information.
“Let's go inside and see how she's doing,” he says, opening the door and stepping out into a parking garage. Unlike the last one I was in, this one is clean, and several very nice cars are parked nearby, including an SUV identical to the one Blake had followed me in back in Spokane.
I loop my arms around Travis’ neck holding tight, but he barely jostles me as he lifts me out of the vehicle and strides toward an elevator. My lip pulls where it is split as I try to smile at him again. I’m so relieved and overjoyed to be here. I’m happy to be going to check on Ana too. The last few days have made us closer than I ever imagined we would be.
The elevator is the most luxurious I have ever seen; with a padded bench and plush carpet. Quiet music drifts through hidden speakers. It takes us straight to the penthouse of the massive building. Travis holds me close the entire time. When the elevator doors slide soundlessly open I squirm a little in his arms, silently asking to be put down. He hugs me tighter with a small shake of his head.
“Hold still, Pea. Just let me hold you for a little longer.”
How can I say no to that? Sighing, I relax in his embrace as he strides from the elevator to the door of the penthouse. Setting me down he presses a code into the electronic screen outside the door, unlocking it, then ushers me inside.
Turning to face him, I place my palms against the hard slabs of muscle under the thin cotton of his shirt and lift my face for a kiss. With a tortured moan he gives me what I want, his lips and tongue moving with the utmost care against mine.
It’s in that moment that I realize how fortunate I am to be here with him. The smiling man truly could have killed me. Grateful tears fill my eyes this time, and I fling my good arm around Travis, scraping my fingers into his hair and using it to tug him even closer to me.
I sink my teeth carefully into the softness of his bottom lip and suck it between mine and rub it with my tongue. Maybe it’s just a belated rush of adrenaline after so narrowly escaping death, but I don’t care. I don’t even care about my swollen mouth. I want more of him. His soft growl of pleasure urges me on, and I'm lost in the sensual slide of our mouths and tongues.
The sound of someone clearing their throat startles me. I jump away from Travis, gasping, my hand pressed against my racing heart. Male laughter erupts behind me and I whirl around to find Blake leaning against the wall in the living room.
“Hey, Faye.” Blake grins at me. I wave my hand at him like a dork. I’m a little embarrassed but still happy to see him.
“You okay?” I mouth at him, and he nods.
“Yeah. I ran the tech from here. Almost had a heart attack when I saw you out on that ledge.” He hesitates before continuing. “I really almost had one when that guy caught you on the roof.”
I feel the blood drain out of my face at the reminder of what happened and Travis pulls me against his side.
“Let's go check on Ana, and then I'm taking you to our room so you can get some rest,” he tells me, leaning close and touching his lips lightly to a tender spot on my jaw. I take his hand, weaving our fingers together, and follow him down the hall.
Quiet voices reach my ears as we approach the open door of an office. Travis reaches over my head and knocks once before ushering me inside with a hand against the small of my back. Ana is standing in front of the massive window, silhouetted in the bright sunshine. Her back is to us, head tipped down toward the bulky shoulders of a man kneeling on the floor in front of her, his large hands curved around her hips. Her fingers are combing through his dark chocolate colored hair. I can hear the soothing rumble of his voice but can’t make out the words as he presses kisses to her round belly.
Glancing up at Travis with a lopsided smile, I motion that we should go. He nods his accord and we slip out as quietly as we entered.
They never even knew we were there.
Travis
My plan was to take Faye to one of the guest rooms that we have been occupying so that she could clean up and get some rest. She still hasn’t gotten a look at the damage done to her face and I’m afraid that when she sees it she is finally going to breakdown. If John hadn’t been able to stitch the knife cut and do enough of an exam to deem her well enough to not need the emergency room, I have no doubt that we would be in the hospital. I’m always thankful for his medical expertise, but even more so today, knowing that it has spared Faye the poking and prodding that would occur at a hospital.
It's probably for the best that Ana and Xavier were occupied. I know Faye really wouldn't want Ana to see her like this. Bruises are already darkening her fair skin, and the left side of her face is swollen, her eye almost completely closed. I’m opening the door to the guest room when Blake strides down the hall, holding out an electronic keycard.
“Down one floor. Honeymoon suite,” he tells me.
I give him a small salute in acknowledgment and we head back the way we had just come. When I push the elevator button, she looks curiously up at me. “Honeymoon suite?”
I just grin and shrug. I didn't make the arrangements; Blake did.
I will have to remember to thank him later.
I keep my eyes on her during the brief elevator ride. Even as battered as she is, she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes on. Every other woman pales in comparison.
If I could kill the bastard who did this to her again, I would. Without hesitation.
I'd take my time, too.
Thinking about him brings to mind the big man's dying words about Faye's mother. I don’t want to, but I’m going to have to talk to her about it. I won’t be able to get to the bottom of it otherwise. His words were way too personal for a plain old mob hit. There was obviously something between Claire and the man who took Faye and Ana.
But not today. For the rest of today I'm going to baby her and do everything in my power to make her feel better. I know the only thing that will help me recover from the terror that flooded me when I thought she was about to die will be to have her naked in my arms while she comes. That will have to wait, though. I’m not an animal who can’t control his urges.
The suite is the perfect place for Faye to recover for a few days before I take her home. There
is a living room and small dining room with large windows and a sunny balcony with a café table and two chairs. I can already picture her sitting out there in the sunshine, sipping coffee, dressed only in one of my shirts. Leaving her standing in a ray of warm light, I wander further into the suite.
A short hall leads to a wide doorway that opens into the luxurious bedroom. A king-sized bed dominates the room, and there is an en suite bathroom with a huge sunken tub.
“Ohhh. A bath…” The words rasp out of her. She doesn’t have to say anything else. I go to the tub and turn the water on, and dump a small tube of bath salts into the steaming water. When I turn around Faye is standing in front of the mirror, staring at the damage to her face and neck.
“Don't look right now, baby,” I tell her, turning her to face me instead of her damaged reflection. The sight of tears streaming down her face make my insides twist. I want her to never have cause to suffer like this again. I press a kiss to her forehead. It’s one of the few unbruised areas on her face.
“Let's get you in the tub before it fills up all the way.” I gesture toward her ribs. “You have stitches that shouldn’t get soaked for a couple days.”
I give her space to take off her tattered clothes. Her movements are stiff and uncoordinated. The last time they were removed was against her wishes. I would offer to help, but I know that she needs to uncover herself in front of me willingly so that she knows that she has control.
As the ruined garments drop to the floor I gather them up and discard them in the trash without a word. Her bag was already brought to the bedroom. If she needs anything she didn’t pack, I’m confident that we can get it from the shops on the main floor of the hotel. Right now I just want to get her clean and into bed. She needs to rest, and I just need to feel her in my arms.
For the moment, I am content as I hold her hand, helping her step into the tub. Just being close to her soothes me. She lowers herself down slowly, sighing as her legs sink into the water. I try to stop my reaction, but the soft sound goes straight to my groin, and I curse myself for wanting her like this when I know she is hurting.
Finding Faye: Page 20
