by Brandi Evans
"That was different. Their situations were different, and there were times I didn't think Genny would ever be able to trust me enough. But while what she went through was tough, it's nothing like what Katlyn went through—what she's likely going through right now."
Carter was right, and Maddox knew it. He'd never be able to be Kat's Dom, and he doubted he could ever not be a Dom. Like being a cop, being a Dom was who he was. But today, in a moment of anger, he'd willingly given up his badge for Kat. He could give up being a Dom, right?
But as another car drove by, blasting another country song, Maddox knew the answer. He wouldn't be able to give up being a Dom any more than he could give up being a cop, at least long term. No matter how much he loved Kat, he was a cop and a Dom, two parts of the same whole.
Chapter 2
Why hadn't he killed her yet?
Katlyn didn't know where Jeff had taken her this time or how long they'd been here. She only knew she was scared, so very scared. And cold, the kind that seeped into the bone marrow and made her fear she'd never be warm again. If she were lucky, the cold would finally finish her off, and her nightmare would be over.
The cold also made her numb, almost too numb to feel. She wished she could stop feeling. Jeff had chained her in this windowless room with only an old mattress to sit on and a bucket in the corner that served as a bathroom. He hadn't even given her a measly sheet to battle the cold—or clothes.
He fed her once a day, and she'd learned to eat whatever slop he brought her. If she fought him, he beat her; then again, if she didn't fight him, he still beat her, just not as severely.
Jeff had a fire in the main room. She could hear the crackle of the flame as it ate the logs, but its warmth didn't reach her. He hadn't come into her room today, which meant he probably wouldn't rape her today. He preferred to do that earlier in the morning, before he was so drunk that the only thing he could get up was his fists.
She curled tighter into the fetal position, desperate to battle the cold. The chain holding her in place rattled, and a harsh irony filled her. At one time, being tied to a bed had been a highly erotic experience, but that had been a long, long time ago, a forbidden thrill that stretched back to college, to a time before Jeff.
She struggled to find the memories in her mind and bring them to the surface. The act was a physical chore, but she hefted and tugged until she'd loosened the sweet memory. Finding good memories was something she kept trying to do, to remember the bright spots in her life. Remembering the good was the only way she could fight him; she'd pull the happy memories to the surface and escape into them, even if just for a little while.
She went back in time to a masquerade ball. The end of her sophomore year had come, and her impulsive, crazy-in-the-most-awesome-way best friend, Carrie, had suggested they go to a BDSM event she'd heard whispers of. Carrie had been curious about the lifestyle, while Katlyn simply hadn't wanted her friend to go alone. Once there, though, Katlyn had been more aroused than she'd ever been, and then, she'd met him, the man who'd become her first Dom. That night, with their identities concealed by masks, he'd showed her pleasures she'd never known she'd wanted.
Bang.
The sound of a slamming door, Jeff's angry roar, and the shatter of glass fracturing brought her speeding back to the present, and suddenly, the cold wasn't what had her shivering.
"Mother-fuckin' sons-a-bitches!" Another smash and the door of her prison flew open, crashing into the wall with enough force to unseat one of the hinges.
Katlyn scrambled away from Jeff on all fours like a crab. She couldn't escape. She could only go as far as the chain allowed, and that was never far enough.
Her gaze froze on the syringe in his hand. He was about to tranq her again, and he only did that when he moved her to a new location. And he only ever moved her for one reason: Maddox was close to finding her again.
He'd almost found her three times already, but somehow, Jeff always got word. She didn't know how or who was feeding him information, but he always knew. She'd worked that out after the last time he'd moved her. Jeff had muttered something about the "fucking cop" who wouldn't stop chasing them. That had been all he'd needed to say for her to know Maddox was still looking for her.
She eyed the syringe as Jeff lumbered toward her. He always aimed for her thigh when he injected her.
Always.
He always held the syringe in his fist, his thumb on the handle to depress the contents.
Always.
And he always, always bent down to inject her. Most of the time, he would lose his balance, too, the side effect of being drunk most of the time.
He was an asshole of habit with an improper injection technique, and he was undoubtedly drunk. This opening was precisely what she'd been waiting for. If she did this right, and with a little luck, she could make sure the needle ended up in his thigh this time.
Maddox slowed their rented Ford Explorer to a whopping fifteen miles per hour. The narrow, curvy two-lane highway outside Troy managed to make him feel claustrophobic and agoraphobic at the same time. On one side, there was a steep rock face, a vast ravine on the opposite. What he wouldn't give for a straight stretch and one inch of shoulder. And to make matters worse, they'd lost cell service about two-thousand miles back. Felt like two-thousand miles anyway.
Carter turned the map fifteen degrees to the right. "I have no fucking clue where we are. What good is a road map that doesn't show half the goddamn roads we've passed?"
Maddox couldn't fault his partner's logic. Lots of the "roads" they'd seen were nothing more than hunting trails, roads to the locals, sure, but not the map makers.
They could always turn around and ask for directions again, but the last instructions they'd received had gone a little something like: "Ya see, what you want to do is turn right past the second barn with the collapsed roof. Not the barns falling down, mind you, just the ones where the roof is actually collapsed but the barn itself is okay."
Considering the number of barns they'd passed, in various stages of disarray, those directions had proved about as useful as a broken condom.
"Surely, we've got to be close, though," said Carter.
Maddox agreed. Before GPS had crapped out and they'd resorted to a map and verbal directions, they'd been within thirty miles. "Note to self: the next time I decide to take a road trip into the middle of nowhere, requisition a sat phone."
"I second that, partner."
Maddox slowed as he neared yet another near-ninety-degree curve. "As soon as I find a place to pull over, we'll—"
An old red pickup, the kind he'd consider an antique if the owner had adequately maintained it, rounded the corner in both lanes. Maddox yanked the wheel to the right to avoid a collision. The SUV's tires thump, thump, thumped over rocks, tree roots, and god knew what else as he fought to keep from scraping along the rocky mountainside, but he only partly managed his objective. He still scraped the hell out of the passenger's side before he managed to ease back onto the road.
Maddox checked the rearview mirror in time to see the truck's driver overcorrect. The back wheels lost traction. Maddox slammed on the brakes but couldn't do anything but watch as the truck spun out. The rear end thrashed violently, and the vehicle smashed sideways into the trunk of a giant cedar. The massive tree was the only thing that stopped the vehicle from plummeting off the ravine's edge.
"Christ!" Maddox jumped from the SUV.
Carter was a few steps behind, his door sticking from the brush with the rock. Their feet echoed in a chorus as they pounded toward the truck. White steam poured from the engine, the sweet, tangy scent of coolant tainting the air.
"I got the driver," Carter called.
"Roger." Maddox veered to the passenger's side. The tree blocked the door, glass window spider-webbing. "Door's stuck, and I can't see inside."
"Maddox, get over here." Concern and anger weaved through Carter's soft tone.
Maddox rounded the front end of the truck. Carter hadn't
removed the driver; he stood statue-still, the driver's delicate hand cradled to his chest. His expression was reminiscent of someone checking on a loved one, not a stranger, and the possibility had Maddox's pulse skyrocketing.
Maddox wedged himself beside his partner and found himself looking at Kat. His knees threatened to give out, and he grabbed the truck to keep from kissing asphalt.
"Is she…" Maddox began but couldn't finish.
God, she was so still. Fresh blood covered dried blood and bruising on her face, and her blonde hair clung against her head in matted clumps.
"Pulse is strong," said Carter, "and she's breathing. I think she just—"
Kat groaned; her head wobbled. Her eyelids fluttered open, closed, opened again, and held, but she didn't appear to see anything. Her blue-green eyes were matte and dull.
"Katlyn, it's Detective Burkes. Can you hear me?"
She swiveled her head in Carter's direction. She didn't appear in full command of the movement, a living bobblehead.
Slowly, recognition brightened her eyes. "C-Carter?"
Carter smiled. "Yeah, it's me. We're here."
"We?" Her head swiveled again, and when her gaze locked with Maddox's, tears fell—both his and hers.
"Hey there, Kat." Maddox tapped his partner's shoulder, and the two swapped places.
"I'm gonna go get the vehicle," Carter said before jogging off.
Maddox never took his eyes off Kat. If he could, he'd live the rest of his life without ever taking his eyes off her again.
She flung her arms around him, her tears turning into loud sobs. "I knew you were coming for me. Jeff knew, too, that's why he was gonna move me again, but I got away, Maddox. I got away. I knew you were here. I knew you were coming for me, and I got away."
Her sobs swallowed her words. Closing his eyes, he held tight to her. She was so thin. He swore he could feel each of her ribs through her thick coat. One good squeeze and he feared he'd snap her in two. Still, having her in his arms felt fucking incredible. She was back. She'd escaped—
Escaped.
Fuck!
He needed to get his damn head on straight. If she'd escaped, then Harris could be nearby. He could attack, and Maddox would be damned if that bastard would ever get his pathetic hands on her again.
When tires rolled gently over asphalt behind him, he tried to pull back, but she gripped him tighter.
"Don't go," she murmured.
"We have to go, Kat, but don't worry. I'm taking you with me."
Keeping one arm around her, he unlatched her seatbelt. In the process, her oversized jacket fell open. Sweet Jesus, she was naked. Pushing aside all the possible reasons she'd been naked before she'd bolted—humiliation, control, torture, rape—he pulled the coat around her and swung her into his arms.
Carter had the backseat door open, and Maddox ducked inside. He'd planned to sit Kat beside him, but she burrowed into him.
"Don't let me go," she whispered. "Don't let me go."
"I'm not."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Okay." Placing her trust in him, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and her body went lax.
How long did it take to fucking examine someone?
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Maddox forced himself to remain in the folding chair he'd positioned in front of Kat's hospital room door. When the doctor had told Kat to let go of him for the examination, she'd had a panic attack. Her terror had stuck like barbs in his heart.
She hadn't wanted to let him go. He tried not to read too much into that. He was the cop she'd first connected with, the one who'd convinced her she deserved more than a life as Jeff Harris' punching bag; that was all. He'd gained her trust, and when it had mattered most, he'd let her down. Yet she'd clung to him as if there wasn't anywhere she'd felt safer than in his arms.
He wanted her back in his arms, too. He'd insisted on being present during the examination, but the doctor had put her foot down. Since Kat had been found naked, they planned to perform a rape kit. The idea knotted his stomach all over again, and he swallowed the bile crawling up his esophagus.
That fucker had beat her, and he'd raped her, likely repeatedly. They were possibilities Maddox had known and had told himself to prepare for, but when he'd held her in the backseat of the SUV, they'd become physical realities. And it had happened this time because he'd fucked up and shipped her off to Oregon instead of keeping her in Dallas and taking care of her personally.
Fuck!
He shot to his feet, unable to remain seated, guilt slicing anew through him. If he ever had Jeff Harris in his crosshairs, Maddox wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.
He was a cop. He'd worked cases like hers for years, and while they never entirely became routine, he'd learned to separate the trauma his charges had experienced from his own emotions. He'd had to. A person didn't last long in his line of work if they couldn't, but Kat short-circuited his ability to compartmentalize.
In his jacket pocket, his cell rang. He pulled the device free, checked the readout: Carter. As soon as they'd gotten Kat to the hospital, Carter had gone with the local police to track down the location where Harris had held Kat captive.
Maddox clicked on. "Tell me you found that fucker and took him into custody."
"Wish I could, partner."
Bracing a hand on the walls with its ugly textured wallpaper, Maddox bit back the billion curses ping-ponging around his head. He drew in a deep breath, drawing in the aroma of disinfectant and death.
"We were right about the location," Carter said. "Harris had her in the cabin we'd identified, and from the looks of it, he had her chained in this back room. It's…" Even over the miles, over the phone, the sound of Carter's slow inhalation and exhalation was audible. "There's a fucking bucket in the corner that he made her shit in. I'm glad you don't have to see this."
Maddox was, too.
"There's no vehicle outside, so either he had a second vehicle or fled on foot. The sheriff's rounding up a search party, but there's a lot of area to cover. A local search-and-rescue station is enroute with their tracking dog. Hopefully, the dog can sniff him out."
"Hopefully." But when had anything gone right about this case from the get-go?
The door behind him whispered open, and Doctor Simons—or was it Simmons—strolled through. Her dark hair sat in a messy knot on top of her head, giving the light blue scrubs a relaxed quality. Her skin was the color of coffee with a touch of creamer, and her brown eyes held a weariness that hadn't been there when she'd first walked into Kat's room.
"Carter, I gotta go," Maddox said quickly, dread unfurling like tendrils of smoke. "Call me if you get anything new."
Maddox didn't wait for his partner to respond. He cut the call, returned the device to his pocket, and hurried to the doctor. "How is she?" The question tumbled out as he braced for bad news.
"Resting." The doctor briefly turned back toward Kat's door. "Physically, she's in surprisingly good shape, which shocks the heck out of me. There's lots of bruising, one fractured rib, dehydration, and malnourishment, but overall, her vitals are solid. With time, fluids, and proper nutrition, she'll be right as rain." The doctor paused again, looked back at the door, and released a long sigh. "I didn't do much more than the required psychiatric rotation in med school, but I know PTSD when I see it. And I'm pretty sure PTSD is just the tip of the things she's going to have to deal with over the next weeks, months, and years."
Maddox nodded slowly, understanding and anger simmering a degree hotter. He'd seen his share of mental trauma over the years. Yes, sometimes abusive spouses killed, but more often, they used a combination of abuse and psychological mind games to "groom" their partners. Groomed partners were easier to control, and often, the abuser becomes attached to their groomed partners, which Maddox suspected was the case between Harris and Kat. If Harris had wanted her dead, he'd have done it when he'd tracked her down.
"Can I see her?" Maddox asked.
> "As I said, she's resting. She was… agitated, so we gave her something to help her sleep and something for the pain. I'd like to keep her overnight for observation as she hit her head in the crash, but it doesn't look serious. Still, she's going to have a long recovery in front of her."
Of that, he had no doubt, and he planned to stay by her side for every wobbly step.
"Do you plan to release her tomorrow?" he asked.
"If tonight goes well, then yes, but she'll need to follow up with a primary physician once she gets wherever she's going. And she'll need to see a therapist."
"She'll get both. I promise."
He already had a therapist in mind, one he'd worked with many times over the years, Dr. Caroline Fitzgerald. She was good with victims, especially female ones, and was his go-to victims' counselor. She was also one of the subs at Restrained Fantasies. If there were anyone he'd trust with Kat, it was Caroline.
After he and the doctor said their goodbyes, he slipped into Kat's room. A blue and green hospital gown covered her skeletal frame. An IV tube ran into her arm, a bag of saline re-hydrating her. They'd scrubbed the blood away, both the old and the new. As a result, the bruises stood out prominently on her otherwise creamy skin, a scattering of blacks, blues, and yellows on a blank canvas. She looked so pale and frail beneath the fluorescent lights.
He took her non-IV hand in his, pulled it to his heart, and took a long moment to breathe in the sight of her. He had her back. Part of him had never truly believed he would, but there she was, battered but not broken. And so beautiful that it nearly brought him to his knees.
His professional detachment cracked a little more. He couldn't help it. Someday soon, he'd figure out how to repair the damage, but that was tomorrow's problem. Today, he would revel in the relief of having her back.
He bent forward and pressed a single kiss to her forehead. "I've got you, Kat. I've got you, and I'm never letting you go again."
Chapter 3
