by Maya Banks
avoiding the TV—her only other encounter with it being when she’d seen the news footage of the horrible massacre of every single member of the cult—she’d been determined to stop spending so much time in the bedroom or the kitchen and actually see what television was all about.
Although her kitchen visits had been among the high points of her enforced confinement. Not only did the guys spoil her ridiculously, taking turns preparing her their self-proclaimed specialty to the delight of her taste buds, but they also took turns teaching her to cook simple dishes. They were exceedingly patient and never seemed to get irritated when she pelted them with dozens of questions.
For the most part, she seemed to amuse them with her childlike enthusiasm. Even the men who hadn’t drawn the short straw for cooking lessons that day usually gathered in the kitchen to watch, indulgent smiles on their faces when she beamed after a successful attempt.
Yet even Isaac, who never strayed far from her side, had abandoned the living room after being treated to her constant channel changing. But how could she decide on one before knowing what there was to see on every channel? What if she settled on one program and something more interesting and educational was just a few clicks away?
Admittedly the concept of television still confused her, especially the sheer number of channels and programs. What happened if two programs you really enjoyed came on at the same time? But she had found a practical use for it.
What she had discovered was that television was a good source of knowledge and information about the modern world. Some of the programs were fascinating, while others were downright horrifying. One night the guys had tried to get her to watch something they’d referred to as reality TV and explained how it differed from other television shows. Only a few minutes into something that was reportedly happening in real life and wasn’t a fictitious program meant for the entertainment of others, Jenna had fled the living room, so appalled that she hadn’t ventured near the television for the next three days.
But now she was in command of the remote. There was a certain sense of satisfaction in being able to push the button to change the channel as many times as she wanted. Now she understood why the guys fought over who got to control the remote for the night.
She snuggled deeper into her nest of pillows, sighing at how nice it was to do anything she wanted or nothing at all. Never had she enjoyed the freedoms most everyone else took for granted. For the first few years at the compound, she’d considered her life normal and it hadn’t bothered her. It wasn’t until she was around the age of nine or ten that a voice in the back of her mind started quietly nagging her. She began to really look around and more closely observe the other members of what they’d always referred to as a religious organization.
She hadn’t known any better. It was what she’d been taught she belonged to. But when she started paying closer attention to the goings on, she realized how differently she was treated than the others.
While she couldn’t say any woman in the cult was ever treated well, she could certainly state with assurance that the other women had been treated far better than her.
Jenna frowned, focusing back on the television, where she’d momentarily stopped on a channel while her thoughts had drifted. Angry for allowing herself to drift back to her life as a prisoner, she shoved aside the painful, humiliating memories and chastised herself for dwelling on events best left in the past.
She was about to change the channel again when she paused, recognizing the news show as the one that had aired the footage of the mass killing of the cult members. News changed from day to day. It would be interesting to tune in each day so she could follow current events. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel quite so lost in the world she’d been so afraid of.
But when the lead-in for the next story began, Jenna went rigid with shock, her eyes glued to the screen. Frantically she turned up the volume, wanting to hear every single word because surely she’d misheard the reporter.
“Tonight, a mother’s plea for information leading to the whereabouts of the daughter taken from her twenty years ago. We go live to the press conference, where Suzanne Wilder is speaking out after hearing the tragic story of the murders of what appears to be all the members of a mysterious cult that was located in a rural area north of Houston and apparently was there for the last twenty-five years.”
A visibly distraught woman appeared on the television surrounded by several reporters, all holding microphones to catch her every word. Jenna shot up from the couch and stood directly in front of the monitor, not believing what she was hearing or seeing.
Jenna’s mouth widened. She attempted to call out to Isaac, but no words would come from her tightly closed throat. She was inhaling rapidly through her nose and it felt as though the room was spinning around her, except the television remained fixed. She wanted to close her eyes and look away. Wanted to cover her ears so she couldn’t hear. But she couldn’t do either of those things. She was so numb that she felt paralyzed, a mixture of fear and hope roiling in her stomach, making her feel even sicker than she already did from the motion of the walls spinning.
The woman held a handkerchief delicately to her nose, which was red and swollen as if she’d been crying. She stared into the cameras, her expression desperate and pleading.
“My name is Suzanne Wilder and twenty years ago, my daughter, Jenna Wilder, was violently taken from me. Her father tried desperately to save our daughter, but the kidnappers shot and killed him before running to a black van with Jenna in one of the kidnappers’ arms. She was screaming and crying for me as they shut the door and drove away with my only child,” the woman said, her voice breaking as a sob welled, and she pushed her fist into her mouth in a visible battle to control her emotions.
“I’ve searched for my daughter for the last twenty years, never giving up hope of her being returned to me. Despite the many investigators I hired and the investigation I launched myself, I never knew where the cult had established their compound, where they lived or were located,” she said, stumbling over the words as though she wasn’t sure what to call the place where Jenna had been a prisoner for nearly her entire life.
“It wasn’t until I saw the news story last week that reported the mass killing of what was reported to be the entire cult at a compound north of Houston that I realized this is where my daughter had been held, where she’d been raised. I wondered if she even remembers me or knows who I am,” she said tearfully.
“Two of the men identified and pictured on television I instantly recognized as the men who’d murdered my husband and kidnapped my precious daughter.”
She bowed her head for a long moment, seemingly too emotional to continue.
Jenna stared in stunned silence, simply unable to comprehend what she was witnessing. A warm tear rolled down the side of her face, but she didn’t lift her hand to wipe it away. Her breathing became even more rapid. It didn’t make sense. What was she afraid of? The truth?
“I viewed each and every one of the bodies, hoping to find answers, something that would tell me if my Jenna was still alive or what might have happened to her. She wasn’t among the dead, but I found a photo of her. It was my daughter! There is absolutely no doubt. I’m pleading with anyone who has information about her whereabouts or any information leading to the discovery of Jenna Wilder to please come forward. And Jenna, if you’re out there, I have never given up hope of one day being reunited with you.”
Jenna continued to stare blankly at the screen as suddenly her mind shifted to a long-ago event. The birthday cake and the four candles. Her father’s proud, smiling face, filled with so much love. She reached farther back, closing her eyes as she strained to bring the memory into focus. A woman holding a gift-wrapped box, a strange smile on her face as she watched Jenna’s father toss her into the air while she squealed with laughter.
“Mama?” Jenna said, her voice higher pitched, sounding more like the child twisting circles in Jenna’s mind.
Her chest
felt as though it was on fire and the rapid inhalations had halted for some reason. Why wasn’t she breathing? The room blurred, moving in and out of focus as the press conference droned on and on, the only sound registering in Jenna’s ears a loud, persistent buzzing.
TWENTY-THREE
“SHOULD we go rescue the remote before the batteries die and she beats the shit out of it because she doesn’t know it takes batteries to operate?” Shadow asked Isaac in amusement.
Isaac chuckled. “I’ve been up in her grill twenty-four seven since . . . well, hell, basically since I pulled her out of my SUV she’d stolen and decided I was keeping her. I couldn’t imagine any situation where I didn’t want to be as close to her as possible, but she’s like a kid with a new, obnoxiously loud, annoying toy who plays it over and over and over again.”
Shadow cracked up while Knight and Dex, who’d entered the kitchen just as Shadow suggested mounting a rescue mission to retrieve the remote, both snickered. Then Dex stopped and turned one ear in the direction of the living room, standing silent for a moment.
“I dunno, it might be safe to go back in. The channel hasn’t changed in the last minute or so—it’s the same newscast I heard on my way to the kitchen,” Dex said in a hopeful voice.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Shadow grumbled as he ambled toward the door leading into the living room.
He came to an abrupt halt, his body language putting Isaac on immediate alert. He was about to demand what the fuck Shadow was looking at when Shadow said, without turning around, “Isaac, you need to get in here fast.”
The edge in Shadow’s voice made Isaac’s stomach plummet and he shoved by Dex and Knight, breaking into a run. He shoved Shadow so he’d move to the side, and then Isaac saw what Shadow meant.
Jenna stood as rigid and as ghastly white as a statue just a few feet in front of the television as it droned on. He could see even from where he stood that she was hyperventilating. As he started toward her, he heard a high-pitched, childish voice—Jenna, only not Jenna—and the only word that echoed softly through the room was, “Mama?”
Oh fuck. A dull roar began in Isaac’s ears just as he noticed that she’d stopped hyperventilating. In fact she was so still that it didn’t appear she was breathing at all. She wobbled precariously like a drunk in heels and he lunged for her, shouting for the others to help.
He caught her just as her legs gave out and she slid toward the floor. He gathered her in his arms, fear gripping him by the throat. What the hell had traumatized her to this degree?
He carried her to the couch, sitting her up and holding her when she began to list forward as though she was about to pitch right off the couch onto her face. He grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him, and he shook her lightly, just enough to gain her attention.
“Breathe, god damn it! Breathe, Jenna!”
Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment she stared at him in blank confusion as if she didn’t even recognize him.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.
Shadow pushed in on one side, pressing a cold rag to the back of her neck while Knight slipped his fingers around her slender wrist to check her pulse rate. Dex was focused on her near nonexistent respiration rate while Isaac tried again to get her to snap out of it.
“Mama?” she asked again in a trembling voice.
“Oh honey,” Isaac said, his heart breaking for her.
He did not have a good feeling about what had prompted her panic attack. Not a good feeling at all. He turned to Zeke, who’d rushed into the living room when he’d heard the shouting, and quickly snapped an order.
“Rewind the current program at least thirty minutes and pause it. Whatever Jenna saw on it fucked with her in a big way.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Brent asked quietly as he stepped up beside Zeke, while Eric and Capshaw crowded in behind them.
“I need to know what the fuck she saw on the news that caused her to completely lose it and go into nuclear meltdown mode,” Isaac bit out to no one in particular. “But do not play it back until I have her out of the room.”
He refocused his attention on Jenna, who was now emitting sounds reminiscent of a fish gasping for air out of water. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes wide, her face completely devoid of any color or life. She had the look of someone who’d just lost everything that ever mattered the most, everything good, leaving her with nothing. The soulless eyes staring back at him were his complete undoing. He had to get her back from whatever hell she was in. He refused to let her stay there a moment longer. She was exhibiting signs of shock and that, combined with all the other factors in play, scared the holy fuck out of him.
He grasped her cold hands in his and rubbed them to infuse warmth into her fingers, all the while speaking to her in a calm, soothing voice about nothing in particular. After a moment, he ditched the nonsensical shit and leaned in so their noses were mere inches apart.
“Baby, come back to me,” he pleaded, framing her face with his hands, pushing back the strands of hair from her cheeks to behind her ears. “I’m here. I’m with you. Whatever it is that’s frightening you, you aren’t alone. I need you to take some nice, deep, even breaths. In through your nose, out from your mouth. Like this.”
He made certain he had her attention and then he demonstrated, inhaling and exhaling, taking his time, slowing his breathing down. Slowly she began to show signs of heightened awareness. She looked into his eyes and he knew the instant she’d come out of the worst of it because he saw recognition on her face, but it was the crushing relief that exploded in her eyes right before she threw herself into his arms and wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his neck that rattled him to the core.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he soothed, rocking her back and forth as she clung to him as though he was her only lifeline. “I’ll never let you go, honey. Just breathe for me and try to relax. Focus on the most wonderful thing you can think of. The most beautiful dream you ever dreamed. See only that and nothing else and let me take care of you. I’ll never let you fall. I’ll always be here to catch you.”
He knew he was babbling, but he was precariously close to succumbing to a panic attack of his own. When her breathing had regulated itself to a more even rhythm, she went limp against him, as though her strength had been completely sapped. He gently collected her into his arms and cradled her in his lap before rising from the couch, settling her more firmly against his chest.
He glanced Shadow’s way. “Get another one of the pills we gave her last time. As badly as I want to know what in the fuck happened and what she saw that made her withdraw so sharply from reality, she’s in no shape to relive it right now. She needs to rest and relax and when she wakes up, if she feels strong enough, we’ll get into it then.”
Shadow nodded and hurried to the kitchen while Isaac carried his precious bundle into the bedroom. He laid her down, pulling off her shoes, then her jeans and then the rest of her clothing, before rapidly getting one of his shirts that swallowed her much smaller frame and easing it over her head.
Though she was aware of her surroundings and was no longer lost in the hell she’d descended to briefly, she remained quiet, only her eyes moving as they followed his every movement. When Shadow entered with the medicine and a glass of water, she didn’t even protest. She allowed Shadow to slip it onto her tongue, and then Isaac quickly held up the glass of water so she could swallow it down before the bitter taste filled her mouth.
She sank back onto the pillow, tears filling her eyes as she stared blankly at the ceiling, avoiding the gazes of both Isaac and Shadow. Shadow sent a look filled with deep concern Isaac’s way. Isaac stared bleakly back at him, having no idea what to do or say. He couldn’t fix an unknown problem, couldn’t fight an unknown enemy combatant.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Shadow murmured, his gaze flickering back to Jenna, the look of worry growing deeper on his face. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Thanks,” I
saac said hoarsely.
Jenna was already succumbing to the effects of the sedative. Her eyelids grew heavy and she blinked several times as if trying to fight going to sleep. Her eyes closed and remained closed and Isaac thought she’d drifted off, but as he was about to turn to go back into the living room, she sluggishly opened her eyes and they tracked sideways until they found him.
A tear trickled down her cheek, her paleness even starker than it had been before.
“I was loved,” she whispered. “My father. He loved me.”
Isaac’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, honey? Did you remember something?”
But her eyelids had fluttered closed after her cryptic statement, and this time she gave a little sigh and didn’t reopen them. Soon her even breathing and the soft rise and fall of her chest registered the fact that she was sleeping peacefully.
Isaac sank down on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands for a long moment. What the hell had happened to her in there? Why the fuck had he left her alone? He hadn’t left her by herself until today. And she’d paid dearly for his negligence, because she’d been left alone to deal with whatever ghost from her past that was now haunting her.
TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN Isaac strode back into the living room, his entire demeanor demanded answers without him having to say a word. Brent looked up at him and Isaac didn’t like what he saw in the other man’s eyes.
“It’s certainly understandable why she was in complete shock and meltdown,” Brent said grimly. “She was flipping through the channels and enjoying new discoveries and was completely unsuspecting of the cement truck that got dropped right on top of her out of nowhere.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Isaac demanded.
“It would be a hell of a lot quicker and easier if you just watch it,” Brent said. “I’m not even sure I can explain the shit storm that’s currently brewing. The hell of it is, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. It could go either way.”
“Or it could be a fucking setup,” Zeke growled.
“God damn it, quit with the speculation and just play the fucking thing. While we sit here arguing, there’s a woman in the other room who has so much hurt and confusion in her eyes that it puts knots in my stomach just to see it, and I can’t do a damn thing until I know what the hell she saw that was so traumatic for her.”
“It’s not very long,” Brent muttered. “I think you’ll find it explains her reaction quite a lot.”
Even having seen Jenna’s complete breakdown and hearing the reactions from his men who’d watched it while he was taking care of her in the bedroom, he was utterly unprepared for the scene that unveiled on the television in front of him. Never would he have imagined this happening, and he had no idea what to think or how to feel about the woman’s claims.
His mind went back to Jenna’s childlike “Mama” as if she’d recognized the woman or had vague memories of her. Not much had been said about her mother in their brief conversation regarding her past. She’d had more concrete memories of her father, but she’d seemed to struggle when attempting to conjure up an image or a recollection of her mother.
Christ, no wonder she’d seemed so stunned, lost and bewildered. How she’d come to ever be in the cult was a question that had haunted her from the time she was old enough to question it. Had she been loved? Had her parents wanted her? Had she been taken from them or had they given her into the keeping of the cult, and were they even alive?
She’d had happy memories of her father, and now to find out that he’d been killed trying to prevent her abduction? It was little wonder she was so devastated, but even so, the knowledge that she had been loved seemed to give her a small measure of comfort. Her last words before she’d drifted to sleep were that she’d been loved.
He wanted to weep for her and at the same time he wanted answers for her. But where did the mother fit into the equation? His suspicious side considered the timing of her mother appearing on national television to plead for information regarding her daughter highly coincidental, given the fact that a powerful drug lord was desperate in his bid to own her like a prized possession.
But the mother’s appearance and subsequent plea could very well have to do with the cult making national headlines when the tragedy was reported on local and national networks alike. On the surface her story seemed plausible enough, but fuck! What was he supposed to do? Forbid Jenna from being reunited with her mother because the timing was suspicious, since it was his goddamn job to be suspicious of anyone trying to get close to his woman?
Hell, he didn’t even know Jenna’s feelings on the subject. She’d received a shock she hadn’t expected in a million years, and that had come on top of the other stressful events she’d endured in such short order. How much more could she take before she crumbled under the weight of the shit constantly being piled on her?
Frustration simmered and boiled in him, threatening to explode. He hated this feeling of helplessness. Of not knowing what to do to make everything better. To give her the kind of life she deserved, a family who loved her.
“This is heavy, man,” Shadow muttered. “What the fuck are you going to do?”
Isaac sighed and ran his hands over his face. “It depends on what Jenna chooses to do with the bombshell just dropped on her. It’s our job to make damn sure that everything checks out and she’s protected at all costs.
“Before we get Jenna’s hopes up or dashed, I think it would be a good idea if we did some discreet investigating on the mom and just see if she checks out. We can’t be too careful until Jaysus is taken down for good, and we can’t just waltz Jenna out in public for a reunion with her mother. It would end up being a fucking bloodbath.”
“We’ll get on it right away,” Shadow said. “You just worry about Jenna and finding out how she’s handling the news and figure out what she wants to do with it.”
Isaac nodded, a curl of panic snaking through his stomach. He didn’t like this one bit and especially the timing even if the timing was perfectly reasonable given the national attention the mass murder had been given.
He strode back into the bedroom, his chest tightening when he saw Jenna curled into the smallest ball possible. She huddled there on the bed, her eyes closed, but even in sleep, her thoughts were troubled and her dreams were haunted.
He slid into bed next to her with no hesitation and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest so he surrounded her with his strength and warmth. She relaxed some, as if recognizing him in her sleep, and she let out a little sigh before burrowing her face into his neck and then she went limp as sleep once more claimed her.
For how long he lay there simply holding her, he didn’t know, but he didn’t sleep, instead staying awake to stand guard over his precious angel. He wouldn’t close his eyes and succumb to sleep no matter how tired he was, because he couldn’t risk her waking and him not knowing it.
After what seemed an eternity, she began to stir against him. She let out a soft murmur against his neck, one that sounded like “daddy.” His heart broke for her. How much more loss could she endure when she’d already had everything in the world taken from her once?
