Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  I don’t like it.

  A thread of paranoia crawls up my back, like I’m being watched, and I look at the guy in front of me wondering if he’s been around Rayne. He’s massive, and looks more like a prison guard than a caretaker, more than big enough to scare someone who has already had the shit beaten out of her.

  Walking down the hall, there’s a right turn, then a split where I see a nurses’ station and a recreation room with a TV blaring and a collection of people sitting around. The place feels tense as I follow my guide until he stops at one of the few closed doors.

  “You’re Tyler, right?”

  Blackman’s on the ID badge they gave me, so for him to know my first name raises my brow. “Yeah.”

  “She calls for you,” he says softly, trying not to be overheard.

  “How do you know?” My head drops down, my eyes narrowing into slits.

  “I have night shift for the most part. I work a lot of doubles.” He puts his hand on the knob and pushes it open. “Listen, be prepared. They’ve been busy.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rayne Mathews

  I’m heavy, numb, yet I feel every thread in the crappy sheets surrounding me. I can’t sleep, but I’m not really awake. I’m trapped inside my head and it feels like I really am going crazy.

  So, when the door opens and I see Nick, I don’t know whether to be angry, scared, or relieved. He’s less of a monster than the rest, but I still hate him and close my eyes to avoid watching him.

  “They’ve drugged her to keep her mouth shut.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  I know him. Tyler. It takes forever before I feel him come into the room and I keep my eyes closed because I can’t be disappointed.

  “Rayne.” His voice is a soothing brush of cool silk, then the thin mattress dips. He’s here, and saltwater burns behind my lids.

  My eyes open when his calloused fingers trace soft lines on my face, and I’m greeted by the most beautiful hazel eyes I’ll ever see. The little slivers of green seem to glow, and it feels like I’m finally alive again, even if my body isn’t cooperating. His face is covered in light stubble, but it does nothing to soften the sharp edges of his face, so beautifully carved, it just adds to his looks.

  He stares at me for a moment before throwing a glare over his shoulder. “What the fuck did you guys do?”

  He’s so angry for me, but all I can focus on is the feel of his hands stroking my face; first wiping away my tears, then pulling my hair out from under me, his cast catching in my hair. My body relaxes as he kisses me, and I stop fighting.

  “It’s gonna be okay, baby,” he says softly. Brushing his lips across my cheek, he slides the roughness of his stubble along my face until his mouth is by my ear, electrifying my skin. “If I have to blow this fucking place up. I swear.” His whispered promise is for me alone.

  Big hands run down my arms, pulling me into his body, sheltering me. I want so badly to curl around him instead of being a rag doll. I don’t want to be helpless. I want to cling to him and never let go. To kiss him—really kiss him.

  But even like this, I’m so glad he’s here. That he knows I need his arms, his smell, his heartbeat. I focus on what he feels like.

  Home.

  I remember why he’s been everything to me since we first kissed. I don’t notice when the rocking soothes me into relaxation. I don’t notice when his voice guides me into the dark. I don’t realize when he allows me to sleep in the shelter of his arms in the walls of my prison.

  Chapter Ten

  Tyler Blackman

  My muscles are shaking like I’m in an ice bath, I’m so happy to have her in my arms, but my blood’s pounding.

  The tech who brought me here leans against the wall and turns away while Rayne cries silently until she falls asleep. Her tears continuing to fall even in her sleep. It guts me. Each tear a failure etched on my heart.

  Keeping my voice low, I rock her and ask him what he is obviously wanting to tell me. “Why’s she like this?”

  “She started talking,” he says slowly, his dark eyes meeting mine.

  “And?” My jaw clenches.

  His dark lips press together, head tilting back. “She was pissed. At them.”

  “So am I.”

  His shrug is subtle. “She shouldn’t be considered acute anymore. She was cooperating. She was eating. She wasn’t violent. They had no grounds to do anything to her, but she threatened Frenwhit or something to that affect. Or at least that’s what the other techs said on break,” he says, a look of disgust on his face.

  “She didn’t threaten anyone.” I know she didn’t.

  He grimaces. “They can interpret anything however they want. They can call anything she says a threat and keep her. So, if they say she’s a threat…”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “How is this supposed to stop it?”

  He shrugs again. What he doesn’t say is written on his face.

  Oh fuck me. Oh fuck no…This isn’t happening.

  “Is Frenwhit here?”

  “He left twenty minutes ago. She’s supposed to be fed and medicated again.”

  “What is she being given?”

  He shakes his head, straightening from the wall. “I don’t know.”

  “What is it?” I want to yell at him, but keep my voice low.

  “I really don’t know.” He grits his teeth. “I don’t administer it. I’m a tech. I don’t do meds or the bathing.”

  Oh fuck me, they’re bathing her!

  “You people are fucking stripping her down and bathing her against her will?” It chokes me.

  The big man shakes his head and raises his hands. “I haven’t touched her and I wouldn’t, but yeah, they have. Those were the orders.”

  “She was raped.”

  “I’m sorry.” His look of disgust is genuine, but it’s not good enough.

  “No, but this whole fucking hospital will be.”

  His eyes flare with understanding as he assesses me. “That’s what she said and why she’s like that.”

  Looking at Rayne, her body finally relaxing as she slips further into sleep, I promise her I’m not letting this happen. After what we’ve already been through, if they think I’m some little boy to be outmaneuvered, they’ll find out I’m anything but. Looking back up at him, I narrow my eyes. “It’s a promise.”

  • • • •

  I stayed until she woke up. I hated letting her see me leave, but I couldn’t leave when she was asleep. That would have been easy on me and horrible to her. In the end, I only left because they made me. I don’t know if they think they can keep her quiet forever or if they think over thirty days, she’ll just forget what they did.

  I’m not giving them that long.

  When I get past the second set of double doors, Neil’s sitting on a small plastic chair, back straight, fingers flying on his phone. As soon as he looks up, he taps the screen twice and puts it away. No words are spoken as he shadows me, stride for stride, as I take off down the hall, ripping my phone out of my jeans.

  My call to Arnowsky as I walk is volatile. He’s pissed they’re trying to cover their mess, and I’m ready to rip my own skin off if I can’t do something. His assurances that he’ll fix it just adds him to my list of shit people, because for all his talk, she isn’t out.

  My security detail wraps around me slowly as we go down through the layers of the hospital, and it feels ridiculous. I only have them to protect her and yet they’re with me, not her.

  “How is she?” The first words Neil’s speaks after he hears the whole call seem like such a simple question, but they’re not.

  Does he want to know about the flare of pain in her eyes that stripped bare as I was forced to leave? How I kissed her goodbye and swore on my life I’ll keep her safe? How I swore I’d come back for her? About her tears? About the barest hint of her faith that let me not crash to my knees?

  “We have to get her out. She can’t stay there.”
I choke on the last bit.

  He gives me a slight nod, and I know he gets it. He and his teams are minimal in movement, speech, and when they want, they can minimize their presence to the point of invisibility. When they don’t, they can feel like the threat they are. Which is good because I may need them soon.

  “How bad, Tyler?” Neil’s eyes stay forward, but his jaw tics slightly.

  “If we don’t get her out soon, they’ll make her crazy,” I say, looking out the window as we speed down the road, knowing I’ll give Arnowsky a chance to change things, but not forever.

  He answers with a grunt, keeping his eyes on the road. The rest of the ride is silent until we get back to the complex, where we drive past a couple paps into the secured parking garage. The team’s quiet in the elevator, and when I walk into the apartment, it’s exactly as I left it. Quiet and empty.

  Grabbing a cup of stale coffee, I sit at the table, feeling heavy at a cellular level. I’m too tired for the messages on my phone, because I don’t care unless it’s Arnowsky telling me we have a hearing to stop this shit.

  Flexing my hand, the twinge of pain is a brief reminder of all the things that have been shoved off to the side. Like my injured hand, which was such a big deal to everyone when it shattered. It’s still healing. It hurts, but not enough to matter.

  I’m supposed to be in rehab, but I’ve missed it more than a few times. I’m not supposed to be using it. I definitely shouldn’t have been fighting with cops, but I’m not sorry. I shouldn’t be holding my girl with my injured hand, but she needs me. Which means…fuck it.

  Heaving myself up when a knock echoes through the room, I walk to the door, unbolt it and swing it open, only to have Corey walk in.

  He came by yesterday and said he’d be back, and when he brushes by me, his eyes are bloodshot and he looks ready to crash. “I saw her,” he says, tossing his phone and keys on the table.

  “Who?”

  “Emily.”

  “I want to fucking strangle your mother.”

  He flips the chair around and drapes himself over the back. “Me first,” he snarls. Both hands grip his forehead. “I know she’s up to something. That bitch always has an angle.” His hands close in a prayer over his mouth then release. “I can’t figure out what she gets out of this, but she’s been trying to make money off Rayne since you guys hit the news. How this gets her any extra money, I don’t know, but I’m gonna figure it out.”

  Corey’s the male version of Rayne. Blond, blue-eyed, perfect face, clear complexion, and seeing him is a gut-wrenching reminder she isn’t here. When he looks at me and shakes his head, I see her.

  “Weren’t you supposed to check on your family?” Corey’s a father and a husband, but right now, he’s a brother trying to do the right thing by everyone.

  “I did. Then I went looking for her.”

  Falling back into my chair, I gross myself out with another swig of nasty coffee.

  Sniffing, he wrinkles his nose. “Go take a shower.”

  I wave him off. “Later, man. What did you find out about your mom?”

  “Tyler, you look like shit.” The air thickens as we face off, which is just stupid. I don’t want to fight with him. “I get it.” He sighs, brushing a hand through his own dirty hair. “But you can’t fall apart and take care of her. Take a fucking shower, you stink. Shave. Eat something. And get your shit together.”

  He’s right. I haven’t showered or shaved. My teeth are gross and I’m due at campus, but I can’t bring myself to give a shit. Nothing matters until she comes home. “I don’t—”

  “I know you don’t. But she needs you in one piece when she gets out, now go take a fucking shower. I’m gonna stay the night, and after you get back from class, I’ll tell you everything. Tomorrow, I’ll get back to my own life for a while, but you need to be ready to take care of my sister.”

  He’s practically standing over me with the chair between his legs. His blue eyes are Rayne’s and I can’t tell him no. I drop the mug on the table. “They’re bathing her while she’s drugged.”

  I hear him cuss under his breath. He knows what that means. As I hit the doorway, he says the one thing that can make me move. “Then she needs you strong enough to fight.”

  • • • •

  It took two days for Arnowsky to call with news. We’ll have two hearings. One about them drugging the hell out of her and the other to get her out. Those bastards won’t hear both issues at the same time because it’s two different courts, but thank God the hearing to stop them from drugging her is in two days.

  We’re going to make sure they stop touching her too. Since the attack, she doesn’t let anyone touch her, especially if she’s wet. It sends her over the edge, even if it’s me. Showering used to be one of our favorite things to do and she can’t handle it anymore.

  I found out all of this in the last few hours and in the middle of it, Mom came to support me, but she doesn’t make it any better. When she walked through the door, it just reminded me of the dozens of voice mails Dad’s left me.

  He’s aware of what’s going on with Rayne. Or at least, he thinks he is. He sees news reports and I’m sure he has his little researchers doing their damnedest to dig into everything, but that’s all he’s got. At this point, I don’t see the point of talking to him. He knows I’m not playing ball regarding the divorce, and I’m certainly not talking to him about Rayne.

  Not that he hears that. In his mind not siding with him means I’m taking her side, so all I get are his endless complaints and threats. Hence, voice mail.

  I can’t listen to him bitch about his failed plans to keep the business. Their prenup is clear. Granddad made sure it was ironclad. Specifically, the loan he gave Dad to create Blackman Construction. It was supposed to be paid back, but Dad didn’t pay it back or make sure the money was earning at the interest rate set in the terms, and the loan has been due for the last ten years. That initial investment from Granddad wasn’t made because he liked my dad, but because he wanted my mom happy, and Granddad made sure it was recoverable if anything went wrong. Now that Mom says the marriage is over, Granddad is calling it in.

  Life’s a bitch when you’re a dick.

  It was poor planning on Dad’s part, because he owes a fuck-ton of money and can’t repay it without giving her most of the company, something he doesn’t want to do.

  Of course, Mom doesn’t want Blackman Construction. She wants concessions, and helping her maneuver it all, is the CEO next door you read about in that scary book. Granddad knows how to work every system there is, and he’s running her divorce exactly like he runs hostile takeovers. Dad should be scared.

  To say thank you, Mom’s been playing the perfect daughter for a couple months, which shows on her face. Her carefree, agelessness is gone. My granola-making, Zen-seeking, yoga-instructing mother has vanished. Her clothes scream blue-blood perfection, a prime specimen of business royalty. It’s the role she had to play her entire childhood, the one she hates. It’s painful for her to be proper and perfect, and it’s something she ran from as soon as she could.

  Granddad’s a bastard to let her do it.

  Don’t get me wrong, he loves her. I’m certain he’d help her no matter what, but she thinks playing her part at parties greases the wheels of his largesse. She hasn’t figured out he doesn’t care. That he never cared. Those expectations were from a woman who died a long time ago. But he lets her make herself miserable. I don’t know why he doesn’t just tell her to stop. But he lets her do it, while he pours money into Mom and me; it’s up to us how we accept it.

  “You’ve looked better,” I say as I hug her tight.

  Giving me a bored look, she drops Chinese on the coffee table. Mom doesn’t see the boiling rage she would have a day ago. I’ve buried it under a fresh shave, clean clothes, and the tidy apartment Corey left behind.

  “You too, but you’ve looked worse,” she says.

  “I can’t look like death tomorrow,” I grunt.


  “No, honey, you can’t.”

  I’m impressed with her flop onto the couch, which is diametrically opposed to the uptight suit she has on. “Arnowsky called. He’s worried you aren’t attending classes. He checked with your coach. You aren’t going to meetings. You aren’t returning Coach Mills’ calls. Honey, you have to show the court you’re fully capable of taking care of a ‘patient.’” The term obviously makes her as sick as it makes me.

  “Do you really think I give a shit about that stuff?”

  “No.” Her lips thin. “No more than I care about society parties, but you’ll fucking go, Tyler.” She practically barks the last part at me.

  Damn it.

  “Tyler!”

  “You’re right.”

  Mom’s eyes drill into me, trying to see if I’m lying. Throwing chopsticks at me, she digs into a box.

  “Prove it.” Splitting her set apart she points them at me before digging in. “Eat.”

  I’m not hungry. I haven’t been for days. But I do it. If Rayne has to eat, then I will. If she’s being forced to shower, then I will. If she’s being forced to rest, then I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rayne Mathews

  He swore. He swore he’d come, and I believe.

  He always comes for me.

  They put their hands on me again I wanted so badly to scream. But they made sure I can’t do that anymore. They can’t handle it when I get lost and I always do. I can’t handle it when they touch me. They tell me I’ll understand the point soon, but I keep my mind on his promise. He won’t leave me here. He won’t do that to me.

  When I was dead the last time he came. When I was broken and drowning, he came.

  It’s all I’m breathing for right now, and I cling to it at night when I lie in hell. Because I don’t sleep. I relive my nightmares. Even under the fog, the nightmares claw at the seams in my mind, scratching at the fragile welds holding it together.