Skin Deep (Wounded Hero Series) (19 page)

Trace noticed that Xavier seemed nervous, he had been busying himself all day. Each time Trace asked about the visitor, Xavier became increasingly more agitated. So he left him alone and tended to Camille. She wasn’t having the seizures anymore. Xavier had instructed him to have her cleaned up and ready for their guest’s arrival. This wasn’t part of the plan, and if there was one thing Trace knew for sure. It was when you deviated from your original plan things got out of control quickly. This wasn’t his show, so he would do what he was told until it affected his plans. He knew that Xavier didn’t plan to leave him alive, he was a loose end. It would have been what Trace would have done if it were him. However, Trace considered himself smart enough to have a backup plan. He put that thought at the back of his mind, there was work to do. He went in to check on Camille. Her color still wasn’t good and she still couldn’t stand without help. All things considered she was still alive and that was saying a lot. Camille looked up when Trace came into the room. He walked over and looked at the tray of food sitting at the end of the bed. The sandwich was half eaten and the chips hadn’t been touched. The glass of milk however was all gone. Trace smiled a little at that. “I’m glad to see you ate a little more this time.” he said watching her closely. I’m still not hungry she said. “Okay, it’s time to get you ready for tonight.” he said keeping his voice casual. As if he was talking about getting her ready for a party or something. He moved toward her and she flinched. Camille, I’m not going to hurt you. I think I’ve proven that already.” Camille looked at him and wondered if anyone really knew Trace at all. It was obvious that he was a total stranger to them all. However he was right he hadn’t hurt her. “I would like to take another shower.” Trace smiled again. “Good that’s what I had in mind and there are clean clothes for you to change into. Come on I’ll help you with your bath.” Camille looked embarrassed. “I think I can manage that on my own.” she said not looking at Trace. She stood and took a shaky step and her knees gave way. Suddenly Trace was there to catch her. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. He sat her down on the counter and began to unbutton her shirt. Camille put her hand over his to stop him. “Trace I...I can do it please.” She looked up at him searching his face. She was trying to see what his intentions where. Trace seemed to read her mind. “Camille, I just want to help you, this isn’t about sex. If I wanted to rape you, I have had plenty of opportunities for that. I don’t want to leave you alone and then find you face down in that tub.” He let that sink in before he went any further. Camille sighed and moved her hand. She knew that what he was saying was true. When her life ended it wouldn’t be a random accident, it would be at the hands of the man who was paying him. He was right he could have done anything to her; she had been unconscious for hours at a time. Instead he had saved her from Mason raping her.

Camille turned her head and looked at the wall, as Trace began to unbutton her shirt again. He made quick work of it. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so when the cool air hit her breasts, she could feel her nipples harden. Trace didn’t seem to notice, he lifted her off the counter and sat her on her feet as he began to unfasten her pants and lower them. She heard him tell her to lift her foot. When she was naked before him he turned and started the water in the bathtub. Camille tried to cover her breasts with one hand and then she used the other hand to cover her core. When the tub was full he shut off the water and turned back to her. He moved in and lifted her again, sitting her down in the hot water. Camille closed her eyes and sighed when she felt the hot water hit her skin. It felt like heaven. She flinched when she felt a sponge moving up her arm. She turned her head and looked up at Trace. He met her gaze making sure not to look any place else. “Would you like to do this part yourself?”  he asked. Camille nodded her head. He handed her the sponge. He stood up never taking his eye’s from her face. “I will go lay out your clothes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Before she could respond he was gone.

As Camille was enjoying her bath, It reminded her of Dillon and the last time they were together. She missed him and deep down she knew he would find her. The thought of it gave her comfort, but would they survive this. It was that thought that seem to be her undoing. She began to cry, as the hot salty tears streamed down her face, she couldn’t seem to control the profound sense of sorrow that was washing over her, pulling her down into darkness. Her life was going to end in a few short hours, unless Dillon and Daniel could find her and somehow get them all out alive. Her confidence in her lover and brother and their team was without doubt. It was Trace’s unexpected involvement that made this whole situation more difficult. It was obvious that Trace wasn’t going to help her. What really made her blood run cold was the fact that Trace didn’t seem to care. He was unaffected by their relationship. He was perfectly capable of watching Xavier kill them all. 

When Trace entered the bathroom again, Camille was sitting up with her knees pulled up to her chest. She turned to met his neutral gaze. He gave nothing away. He walked over to a shelf in the corner and pulled a towel from it. Walking toward her holding the towel up. “Do you think you can stand on your own?” Before she could answer he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. Camille put her hands out and grabbed the sides of the claw footed bathtub and stood up. Trace wrapped the towel around her and lifted her out of the tub. He carried her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed. “I laid out what Xavier wants you to wear he said. Camille turned and saw the black dress lying on the bed. She turned and looked up at Trace, his face showed no emotion.

“How can you do this to me? You know what’s going to happen. Do you even care? Do you care what this is doing to Butch, he’s done nothing but take care of you. Sacrificing his life so you had what you needed. I can’t believe you don’t care Trace.” she said in a shaky voice. She tried to tap down the anger she was feeling.

Trace looked at
her; there was something in his eyes. That calm emotionless expression was slipping. “What would you have me say? That I regret how things have played out. Of course this isn’t the way I would have preferred things to happen. Sometimes you have to accept, that if you want your dreams to come true, you have to be able to handle the nasty things. Make no mistake, I won’t lose any sleep. The money will help my conscience, was that what you wanted to know?” Camille looked at Trace and what she saw was a monster. She turned away from him; she couldn’t look at him anymore. “I’ll leave you to get dressed; if you need help I’ll be right outside the door. The makeup is on the nightstand. You know Camille I learned early in life not to put much stock in feelings. I know what and who I am. I can thank that dirty slut of a mother of mine for what I am; I wish this could be different Camille, Because I really like you I guess as much as someone like me can.”  he said before he turned and left the room. A cold chill ran down her spine. They had all been blind to the monster he was.

Xavier was standing outside waiting on his client. It was mid afternoon and the sun was warm on his skin, the smell of earth and tree’s seemed to calm him. It was always quiet before the chaos. This wasn’t how he had planned things. He learned early that he had to adapt and adjust. He saw the head lights of the limo as it came down the road. The long dark limo came to a stop a few feet away from him. The driver got out and walked to the back door of the limo. Xavier watched as the driver opened the back door, the shiny black shoes of his client hit the ground. Xavier watched as Pierre Bordereau stepped out of the car. Dressed in his expensive, designer Italian suit. He whispered something to the driver in French. The driver got back behind the wheel and drove off. Bordereau walked over to Xavier. “Well my friend, I had no idea you liked to live so far out. The drive was simply atrocious.” he said with just a hint of his French accent. “I expect everything I requested has been taken care of.”   He was not asking but stating a fact. Xavier nodded and crossed his arms over his board chest. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about Bordereau?” The other man regarded Xavier with disdain. “No, I don’t suppose I will. Not until you decide to tell me what you have really been up to.”  Xavier could feel his anger rising up like bile threatening to erode way all this control. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Bordereau met Xavier’s gaze. “I think you and I are beyond lying to each other. You have done some very sensitive work for me and my friends. I suppose you know me better than anyone. Let’s not pretend; you have no idea what I’m talking about shall we.”  Xavier knew in that moment that Bordereau knew everything. He was going to have to tell the truth.

“Okay, since you already know what I’ve been up to, there is no need to pretend any longer. This is about my brother Nicholas and revenge. The job you wanted hasn’t been compromised in any way.” He didn’t need to say anything
else; he wasn’t going to say anything else.

Bordereau looked at Xavier as if he understood everything. “Come, let’s go inside. I feel too exposed out here.” Xavier followed Bordereau inside. His anger was still rising, he had come clean and Bordereau still hadn’t said anything. It would be so easy to walk up behind the other man and slit his throat. He knew that Bordereau gave the air of being alone. That was far from the truth, he never went anywhere without back up. Xavier guessed that the limo driver was the body guard and he had a small army with him. So killing him was not a good idea.

When they entered the house, Bordereau turned and looked around at the room they were in. His disapproval was palpable. “Could you have found a more unsuitable place for this?”  Xavier moved to stand in front of the other man. “It’s remote, for what you have in mind it’s perfect.” Bordereau nodded as he continued to scan the room.

“My son is dead, he hung himself. So you see we both want the same thing. Revenge. Ms. Elliott was the one female my son could not have. When she left he fell apart. I want to watch the life drain from her face, for my son.”  Xavier took in what he was hearing, never saying a word about what Bordereau had just revealed. “My associate is getting her ready as we speak. Just so we understand one another. I need her alive long enough to get her brother here. After that I don’t give a shit what you do with her. Are we clear on that?” Bordereau sighed. “I suppose I don’t have much choice but to agree with your plans.”

When Trace came back Camille was dressed and her face was made up. She was beautiful despite the black eye that he could still see through the makeup and the bruises around her throat. Trace thought to himself. As he looked at her following the flow of the black dress she was wearing. He smiled to himself; she had on flats he left out instead of the heels that went with the dress. Camille noticed that Trace had changed into a pair of black trousers, a black turtle neck sweater and his holster stretched over his wide back. He looked casual but he was armed to the teeth. She was sure the nine milometer wasn’t the only weapon on his person. “I think we’re ready to go.” He held out his hand. Camille was feeling stronger. If this was to be the end, she would walk on her own two feet. She held her head up and walked slowly past Trace’s outstretched hand. Trace smiled and followed her until she got out in the hallway and hesitated. “If you don’t mind I’ll lead the way.” Camille followed him without speaking. She was trying to conserve as much energy as possible. She was trying to figure out an escape plan.

Everyone was loaded into the large cargo van. No one had spoken since they left Dillon’s house. Each man knew what he was suppose to do. Butch was driving with Zane riding shotgun. Butch took comfort in knowing no matter what happened these men had his back. His mind had gone back to the day he brought Trace home. There had been tense moments getting use to having a ten year old around. However, thinking back on everything he couldn’t have done any better by the boy. Everyone pitched in and helped him raise Trace. Yes there were signs that things had been much worse than he thought. Thinking back on it now, he realized that Trace was a big flirt and girls and women alike seem to like him and he them. Now, it was becoming obvious that Trace never showed an interest in any of them, other than the occasional flirting. He never brought anyone home, male or female. “You’re thinking too hard. Give it a rest.” Butch looked over at Zane who was looking straight ahead, with his arms crossed over his board chest.

“It’s not
right; he never brought any girls home. I never caught him fooling around in his room with a girl or boy.” Butch shook his head as he continued to watch the road. “I think he was a lot more fucked up than I ever realized.  Zane turned to look at his friend. “You’re right I never saw him interested in anyone in particular. Whatever happened to him with that bitch; is not your fault. Whoever he has become because of the shit that was done to him. That’s not your fault; you did the best you could. We were all there to help, he could have come to any of us for help, and he didn’t.” Butch knew Zane was right, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he could have done more. “When did you first suspect that something wasn’t right with Trace?” Butch asked as he kept his eyes on the road.  Zane knew where this was going. He had kept what he suspected to himself, he didn’t have enough proof it was just a gut feeling. “The day of the shooting at the hospital. He seemed a little too jumpy. It wasn’t enough to go on.”  Zane looked over at his friend and saw the toll this was taking on him. They all shared so much together, but he and Butch shared much more. They knew each other well. “Butch, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”  Butch held up his hand to stop what was coming. “You were right not to say anything. I wouldn’t have believed you without proof anyway. So don’t apologize.”  Zane nodded his agreement and didn’t say anything else about it. He thought about what was going to happen when they caught up to Trace. He knew Butch would never be able to take the shot. The one thing he knew he could do for his friend was take that decision out of his hands.