Keep Me Safe (7 page)

But that wasn't his sole reason for being here, hundreds of miles from his family. Away from his sister who still so desperately needed his emotional support. Tori was still infinitely fragile, a shadow of her former self. Vibrant. Confident. Full of zest for life. That bastard had taken those qualities away from her and Caleb feared she'd never get them back. Caleb could kill him for that alone, never mind that
two
women had suffered at his hands.

As was the case in his search for Ramie, he wouldn't give up until his sister's kidnapper was found and brought to justice. Caleb would prefer to kill the bastard with his own hands. He'd feel no remorse whatsoever for doing so. But death was far too easy for him. Caleb wanted him to live in hell every day and for him to live a long life. Behind bars.

Caleb knelt once more in front of Ramie, who hadn't moved so much as an inch during the time he was in the bathroom. Gently, he began to wipe away the crusted, dried blood, and he cursed softly when she visibly winced.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

She shook her head in refusal. “It's okay. You didn't hurt me.”

He didn't argue over the lie. He'd seen pain flicker in her eyes a brief moment. He just made sure he was gentler with her when he removed the last of the blood.

When he was finished, he leaned back and cupped her chin, tilting her bruised chin to the light so he could further inspect the damage.

“It's not too bad,” he said. “If your jaw was broken there would be a lot more swelling. Still, you need to be careful and let me know if you continue to have pain so we can take you in for X-rays.”

Her cheeks flushed with color and she glanced away, embarrassment crowding her eyes.

“I can't afford to have X-rays,” she said in a low voice. “I have no medical insurance and I haven't worked since . . . ​since
him
. He took everything from me. My home, my job. Peace. I've not experienced a single day of well-being since I established an irrevocable link to him. He took . . . ​everything,” she whispered. “I was down to my last few dollars but I don't even have that now. I had to leave my purse, my identification, everything when I ran from the hotel. And now I have nothing. Without ID I don't exist. It's as though he's already gotten what he wants most. My death.”

Caleb's mood blackened. He was seized with murderous rage. Not only for what was being done to her now—stalked, hunted like an animal and taunted with her own death—but also for what had been done to her before.

“You will not
ever
have to worry about money—or health insurance—again.”

He was surprised he could even get the words out through his tightly clenched teeth or that his rage wasn't reflected in his statement.

She lifted startled eyes and then her cheeks turned a dull red. “I don't need your charity, Caleb. You don't owe me anything. I'll make it. I always have.”

His temper spiked before he could control it. “You are not some kind of goddamn charity case. Do you even realize the prices you could command for what you do? That victims' families would pay
any
amount to get back a lost loved one?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “I could never do that! What it would boil down to is
blackmail
. Hey, I'll find your kid, wife, mother, loved one but, oh, by the way, my abilities don't come cheap. Do you realize how . . . ​
mercenary
 . . . ​that would make me? I couldn't live with myself having money stained with violence and death. The mere idea is repulsive!”

“And so you suffer in silence. Alone. No one to comfort
you
while the victims are surrounded by family and loved ones. But who do you have, Ramie? Who picks up the pieces for you when you shatter and fall apart? I realize money isn't a cure-all but it can damn well make living a little easier, and anything is better than you having to scrape by, going without, and being constantly on the run from some deranged lunatic who wants to break you down, piece by piece until there's nothing left. No escape.”

She stared bleakly at him, telling him without words that he'd struck a chord within her, and he was kicking himself for being so blunt. His words had to hurt her. It brought back with startling clarity just how dire her situation was. And he saw something in her eyes that made him want to put his fist through the wall.

Defeat
.

Her giving up and accepting the hopelessness of her situation. Damn it, but that had not been his intention. He simply wanted to let her know that she was no longer alone. No longer without someone to turn to. Defeat was simply the absence of hope and she needed that more now than ever before. He wanted to provide her a safe harbor.

What was it she had said? She needed sanctuary. He'd make damn sure he provided her with
anything
she needed. And as far as her not accepting “charity”? She was just going to have to deal with it, because there was no way in hell he was leaving to chance any aspect of her protection, well-being and the financial support she needed so badly. Whether she liked it or not she was now fully under his care and protection and that meant in all areas. Not just her physical well-being.

And he wanted her to trust him. To believe that he would follow through with his promise, because once he made a commitment he
always
followed through. It would take her time to fully trust in his motives, to believe that he wouldn't betray her. He knew it wouldn't happen today. Or even the next day. But he was determined to slowly but surely win something so precious as her faith and trust in him.

He wanted to be someone she could depend on, perhaps the one person who hadn't failed her in her young life. He'd be damned if he became just another statistic in the list of people who'd let her down, draining her
capability
to put her faith in another living soul.

That was all going to change. Starting now.

He had his pilot on standby because he had no intention of keeping Ramie here and vulnerable to attack even a second after they decided on a course of action. But just because he was determined to take over didn't mean that he wouldn't keep her fully apprised of his plans. True, he had no intention of taking no for an answer, but he'd at least offer her the respect he owed her and not keep her in the dark.

Because she feared the unknown, and he knew she was still grappling with whether or not she could believe in his ability to protect her. She had no way of knowing that he intended to utilize every resource at his disposal—no matter the cost—in his effort to ensure her absolute safety.

“Do you have anything at all?” he asked carefully, mindful of her pride and her potential embarrassment over her circumstances.

And yet color still stained her cheeks and once more shame darkened her gray eyes to the color of a storm.

“No,” she whispered. “Everything I own was in that hotel room and I dropped my purse when I fled because I didn't want anything to interfere in my getting away.”

“Smart,” he said sincerely. “You did the right thing absolutely. Nothing is more important than your life.”

She blinked with obvious surprise over his statement and a string of obscenities burned his lips but he held them in check. She acted as though someone placing such importance on her life was an original concept.

Had the people she'd helped before expressed any gratitude? Did they, like him, have no idea what it cost her each time she delved into the twisted mind of a killer? How could the idea have been planted in her mind that her life wasn't worth anything?

“Since you have nothing to pack, it will make our departure much faster,” he said matter-of-factly.

Again she looked confused. “Where are we going?”

“Home, Ramie. I'm taking you home.”

Sadness and resignation pooled in her eyes. “I don't have a home.”

“You do now. I'm taking you to my home—
your
home now. I maintain very tight security since Tori was abducted. I thought I maintained high security measures before her kidnapping but it's obvious I utterly failed in that area. My firm employs the very best money can buy. They don't come cheap but they're worth every penny if they keep my family—and you—safe.”

She stared at him, a stunned look on her face. “When I called you to ask for help I didn't expect this, Caleb. I certainly don't expect you to move me into your home. I just thought you could offer some kind of peripheral protection.”

“And that's precisely what I intend to do,” he said calmly. “You staying in my home ensures your safety. It's the safest place for you to be. My house likely has more security than Fort Knox.”

He smiled at the end, hoping to lighten the mood and make some of the seemingly permanent sadness in her eyes ease with his exaggeration. Well, except that it was only a slight exaggeration because to a normal person his security measures
would
be deemed extreme and over-the-top, but he'd be damned if anyone accessed his home or were able to get to his family. Never again.

He was rewarded by a tiny smile and he was fascinated by the dimple that appeared in one cheek. He'd never seen her smile. Even the slight smile transformed her entire face. It brushed away some of the fatigue that seemed permanently etched in her features and she suddenly looked as young as he knew her to be.

But then what had given her cause to smile over the last year and a half? And even before then since she'd been immersing herself in evil since she was sixteen years old. Had she been as somber as a teenager as she was as an adult? It was damn hard to be lighthearted enough to smile when every second of every day she wondered if she would die at any time.

He added that to his growing list of things he vowed to do for Ramie. He wanted to make her smile again. To be able to laugh and take joy in living instead of merely surviving. Life was supposed to be filled with both highs and lows, but hers had been a study in lows with none of the highs to balance it out. Not many people could survive such an existence, but in his limited exposure to her, he'd learned that if nothing else, she was a survivor. Far tougher than she gave herself credit for. A normal person would have crumbled under the pressures she faced years ago. Or they would have simply given up and made it easy for a killer to find them, accepting the inevitability of their death. No matter what Ramie said or even thought, Caleb knew she simply wasn't capable of giving up.

But then her smile slipped and a troubled look took its place. “I can't stay with you forever. I can't hide forever. I won't live my life like that. Death would be preferable to waking up every morning and wondering if it's your last sunrise. It's no way to live.”

Sorrow soaked her every word. Her emotional pain was as evident as if she had a sign plastered to her chest advertising that fact. It made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her. Offer her some measure of comfort. But she seemed extremely wary of being touched and he didn't want to do anything that made her uncomfortable around him.

But he did want to know if she feared him. It would gut him if she were afraid
he
would hurt her in any way.

“Ramie, why are you afraid to let me touch you?” he asked gently.

He purposely kept his tone measured and more inquisitive rather than defensive or that he was angry she was afraid of him. God only knew she had sufficient reason to fear men. She'd lived in the minds of the worst the male sex had to offer.

She shrugged one small shoulder. “I don't like being touched by anyone. It's just my automatic response to shun contact with others. Because when someone touches me I see their worst secrets. I see and feel the evil in them. Never the
good
. Only the worst. If I could feel joy, love or even genuine happiness or just
something
positive then at least that would balance the scales and maybe I could deal more with the darkness that stains people's souls. But my gift is the worst sort of curse because I'm only capable of knowing the
evil
people try to hide.”

Caleb's brow furrowed and an uneasy sensation prickled his nape. “And when I touched you? What did you feel?”

He knew he sounded defensive now, despite his earlier determination that he not sound so, but knowing someone could read things no one else could possibly know about him unsettled him. He didn't want her having access to his thoughts. He was ruthless when it came to the protection of his family. He was ruthless when it came to business. Both traits could very well damn him in Ramie's eyes.

“I'm not a mind reader,” she said wearily, as if she had indeed read his thoughts despite her denial. “It's hard to explain. It's not that I pick out exact thought patterns. It's more of a tangible thing that I
feel
, not
know.
I see things. Events. Actions. But I don't actually read people's thoughts. I sense emotions—negative ones—not good ones. Maybe I could handle it better if I ever got to feel goodness in people. Maybe I wouldn't be so cynical about human nature and the capacity in us all to be bad or at the very least gray. If it makes you feel any better, or at least not judged by me, I didn't sense anything evil. Or bad. Just . . . ​determination. And that's not a bad quality. At least not in my estimation. But then my opinion of you should hardly matter. I'm no one to you and what I think shouldn't even give you pause.”

Caleb's lips tightened, because her opinion did matter to him. And maybe it shouldn't. But it had suddenly become all-important to him that she think him a good man, despite his thoughts. That she would eventually be able to trust him.

“Your gift isn't infallible then. I'm not a good man, Ramie. In fact I am
quite
capable of killing and of hurting someone without hesitation if I deem them a threat to someone I love.”