Indulgence (253 page)

His eyes were well-adjusted to the dark, and he was able to
make out something hanging from chains in the middle of the room. Shit. Graeme
was hanging from a bondage rack, immobile from head to foot, his legs and arms
pressed into a tight ball. He could see the darker areas of skin in the
moonlight that indicated blood or other type of injury.

“Graeme! Goddamn, Graeme. Hold on, we’re going to get you
down. Marcus, get over here. Turn on the light.”

“We’d give Ashford a target if he’s out there, Michael, you
know that. The light stays off,” Marcus said, exercising his right to veto.

Michael nodded, knew Marcus was right, but he needed to see
Graeme, needed to know how badly Graeme was injured.

“Hell, we need to get him to a hospital,” he said as he
finished unstrapping the bands. Graeme spilled moaning into his waiting arms.
“Grab a sheet, dampen some towels, let’s go. We’ll call it in from the car.”

“Michael,” Graeme moaned through cracked lips.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t try to talk. You’re going to be fine.
I’ve got you,” Michael said, finding the strength to carry the big man to the
Tahoe. Marcus was there ahead of him, opening the door, spreading sheets across
the seats to wrap the bruised and battered man.

Graeme grabbed Michael’s hand with surprising strength,
“Wait,” his voice croaked.

“Can’t wait, buddy, I need to get you safe,” Michael said,
and he brushed a shaking hand over Graeme’s brow.

“Wait!” Graeme said again. “He said he was going to bring
Lizzie back to watch. He knows where she is. Has a tracker in her arm. He’s
only a few minutes ahead of us. Go fast, Michael. I’ll be okay. Save Lizzie.”

“Fuck! Let’s go, Marcus. Call it all in.”

“No signal up here, Michael. Hang on,” Marcus said and let
the SUV fly.

Michael held Graeme through the screams when the blood
started flowing through his long-constricted veins. He’d thought the cuts and
the burns were bad, but the screams were worse. He met Marcus’ gaze in the
rearview mirror. It was something neither man would ever talk about.

When they reached the bottom of the mountain, the screams
had turned to quiet tears, and Michael stroked Grame’s head while he called Jo
for help.

“We’ve got him. Ashford is going after Liz. He knows her
location. Hurry, we’re only a couple of minutes behind him.”

“How bad is it?”

“Bad. Hurry, Jo.”

*****

He whistled as he drove; it made the time go faster. A quick
drive-through for dinner, and he could grab his wife and be back at the cabin
doing what he loved to do in less than two hours. If everything went according
to plan. He stood outside the hotel room and wanted to laugh at how easy
technology had made everything. As if they could hide his wife from him. They
had no right. He’d long ago had a tracer placed under her skin. Stupid cunt.
Tagged like a dog and didn’t even know it.

He would grab Elizabeth and head back to the cabin for a
long night of loving. Maybe they could work on Graeme together. Having someone
completely at your mercy was just so fucking enjoyable. Maybe she’d want to
join in, to help. They’d have to move by morning, but tonight they would kill
Graeme together.

He knocked and called through the door in a passable Middle
Eastern accent. “Miss? I have some flowers for you from a Michael Enwright. He
wanted them delivered right away, along with the message, “I’ll get him back
for you.” He waited a beat.

“Shall I leave them outside the door, or would you care for
me to bring them inside?”

Elizabeth’s voice was tight, he thought, as she told him to
set the flowers by the door. He did and walked away before circling quietly
back. He would give her one minute. Either she fell for it and opened the door
or he was going through anyway. He couldn’t afford to wait.

*****

Although she hadn’t recognized his voice, she knew it was
Barry. There was no way she’d open the door. Michael would never send flowers
in the middle of this mess. She pulled the gun onto her lap and released the
safety, just as he’d shown her. Once she had the gun ready, she called Jolynn’s
number.

“He’s here,” was all she said. She left the connection open
and set the phone on the table. Now she waited.

It didn’t take long.

The door splintered open, and Barry crashed into the room.
Liz stayed seated, the gun pointed at his belly.

“Put the gun down, Elizabeth. We both know you won’t shoot
me. I’ve got Graeme and if you want to see him, you need to come with me.”

Michael had wanted her to be safe. He’d told her that people
would be watching and if somehow the worst came to pass and Barry found her,
she needed to keep talking and use the gun if he came toward her. He promised
his operatives would be there in less than twenty seconds. All she wanted to
know was one thing, “How did you find me?” she asked, proud to notice her voice
was strong.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Elizabeth, you’ve been a bad
girl. I’ve had my eye on you all along. I know where you go, who you see. I
know everything about you. You’re never going to leave me because you’re mine.
If I can’t have you, no one can.”

He reached behind his back. She knew he was going for a gun.
Time slowed, and she was assaulted by memories of the last years of their
marriage. The mostly empty house, the tense reunions, then finally the
beatings.

She fired as soon as his hand came around from behind his
back holding the expected gun. She aimed just like Michael told her to, pointed
right at the center of him. A second shot followed so closely she wasn’t
actually sure which one had come first. She jerked, gasped with the shock that
rocked her body.

It didn’t hurt, she thought, as she looked down and saw the
blood.

“Gunshots,” Marcus shouted, throwing open the door to the
Tahoe.

“Fuck!” Michael said. “Go, Marcus. Watch for Jo, her team
should already be on site. I’m right behind you!”

Graeme was unconscious and shivering, his head cradled in
Michael’s lap. He’d gone into shock. Christ! He needed to get to Lizzie, but
Graeme needed help right now. He grabbed his phone, reported shots fired, and
asked for an ambulance and police backup on scene. He was relieved to discover
help was already dispatched and should arrive within minutes. He realized he
could already hear approaching sirens. He opened his door, slid out from under
Graeme, and began waving a towel to attract help directly to his vehicle.

Michael raced inside as soon as the ambulance crew relieved
him. He found Ashford dead in the doorway, eyes glassy orbs staring at the
other side of nothing. He pushed past the cops and his own operatives. What he
saw made his heart stop. Lizzie was on the bed, eyes closed, her chest covered
in blood. Jolynn was half lying beside her, a bloody towel held to her own hip.

“Where’s the fucking EMT?” Jolynn shouted over her shoulder.

“Liz!” he yelled, rushing forward.

Jolynn grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him to face her.

“She’s okay. Michael, she’s okay! It’s not her blood, it’s
Ashford’s. She’s got balls. She stood up to the prick and when he pulled his
gun, she blew him away. He’d already busted the door in when I got here, I was
too Goddamn slow. But she had him. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her again.
Carrie and I were on either side of the doorway. We both shot at the same time
she did. We didn’t have a good angle because we were behind him and couldn’t
fucking see her on the other side. She caught the blood spatter, but she’s okay.”

He clambered onto the bed next to Lizzie and frantically
pulled at her shirt, needing to see her unblemished skin for himself. “She’s
okay?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Jo said.

“Then what’s wrong with her and who’s the ambulance for?

“Near as I can figure, she wasn’t expecting the recoil of
the gun, and she was holding it close to her stomach. The kick hit her pretty
hard. When she looked down, she was covered in blood. With the shock of
shooting Ashford, it was all too much.”

“Then why do you need the med techs in here?”

Jo’s leg collapsed, and she tumbled fully onto the bed.
“Only a flesh wound,” she murmured just before she passed out.

*****

Michael paced across his living room, reached the bookshelf,
pivoted, and stalked back the way he’d come. He’d been at it for an hour, but
neither Liz nor Jo had the heart to tell him to sit.

“It’s been a month. Why the fuck won’t he talk to me?” he
asked no one in particular.

The women exchanged unhappy glances.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Jolynn said.

“You don’t need to go. I’ll stop.”

“No, you and Liz keep talking. Keep trying. I’ll call you
later,” Jo said as she strode out the door.

He watched her leave, admiring her healthy walk and pleased
there’d been no lasting effect from the gunshot. It had been a little deeper
than a flesh wound, but once it was cleaned and stitched she’d been on her way
to a full recovery. If only Graeme’s injuries had been so superficial.

Liz put her arms around his waist and hugged him. “He won’t
talk to anyone, Michael. It’s not just you. You know that.

“Your worrying isn’t doing either of you any good. We know
he’s healing from the physical injuries, but sometimes the emotional and mental
trauma take longer. He was tortured. He was seriously injured. It takes time to
recover from something like that. We were lucky the Secretary stepped in and
got him into the specialists with the VA. No one’s better for dealing with this
type of trauma.”

She’d said this all before. From the moment Graeme
disappeared behind the emergency room doors, she and Michael had been shut out.
With no legal standing , the hospital staff and administration refused to
divulge any medical information, other than when they’d upgraded his status
from critical to serious and again to stable.

He’d finally hacked into the hospital records and discovered
to his horror just how devastating the injuries had been. Ashford had nearly
crippled him. The lack of circulation had done a real number on Graeme’s body,
his left foot sustaining the worst injury. He’d come close to having it
amputated. There’d been shallow cuts on his back and legs, and a deeper cut
near his eye, which Michael suspected meant Ashford threatened to cut it out.

Burns marked his feet and calves, and the investigators
discovered Ashford had been working his way up Graeme’s body with the cattle
prod. The only blessing in the medical and police reports he’d managed to
acquire was there were no signs of sexual assault.

He buried his face against Liz’s neck and breathed in the
scent of her, pushing away the darkness that filled him at the thought of what
had been done to Graeme. Life was precious, and he wouldn’t ever forget that
again. He realized it was long past time for him to tell her how he felt.

He cupped her face in his hands and whispered, “I’m so glad
you’re here with me, Liz. I love you.”

Tears filled her eyes, and her smile waivered on her lips.
“I love you, too, Michael.”

*****

Jo had learned a bit about hospitals over the last several
weeks, especially about access. It wasn’t impossible to get past the nurse’s
station, even in a well-secured ward. But the person you wanted to see could
get help in a matter of minutes by pressing the call button. Especially in a
ward designed to treat emotional trauma suffered by those who had been tortured.
She didn’t want to risk getting kicked out before she’d said her piece.

She knew the physical therapy department was another matter
entirely. She pulled out the cane she’d needed for the first few days after her
injury and used it to walk her way into the cavernous room filled with its own
type of torture equipment. Physical therapy was all about moving beyond what
was comfortable, pushing into the pain and emerging as victor.

Her first goal was to locate the board with the schedule of
therapists and patients, but she quickly changed her mind when she spotted
Graeme on the other side of the room working a standard weightlifting machine
by himself.

She’d thought about how she should approach him and decided
calm and quiet with a dose of concern was best. She would act as if he was a
fellow survivor and pretend that he should be happy to see her.

Graeme caught sight of her halfway across the room and
watched as she came toward him. He didn’t want to talk to Jolynn; she reminded
him of what he’d lost. He wondered what was with the cane, then decided it was
only a prop. His was the real deal, and he didn’t know when— or if, he would
ever be rid of it.

He had nothing to say. It was why he’d refused all outside
contact. He wasn’t going to be an object of pity or taken into their lives
because of guilt. He’d read the newspaper reports once he’d been sufficiently
healed. Enwright Security had saved the day again, he thought bitterly.
Meanwhile, his house was gone, his job was gone, and he’d be collecting
disability for a very long time. He stared and waited for her to speak first.

“You selfish motherfucker!” She spit like an angry cat.

His head whipped back as if she’d struck him. She’d missed
the mark on calm and reassuring. If the look on her face as she approached was
any indication, she’d decided he’d had enough coddling since he’d been here.

“You’re sitting here feeling all sorry for yourself, feeling
all smug and self-righteous, aren’t you? You think no one understands what you
went through. That no one else understands what it feels like to lose it all.”

She leaned forward and poked him in the chest. “Elizabeth
was physically tortured by that monster for weeks, psychologically manipulated
even longer. She shot him and was covered in his blood. She had to take a leave
of absence and doesn’t know if her job will still be waiting. She lost her
house, and she lost the one person she should have been able to count on to
understand. She lost you!