The Pleasure Series: Complete Box Set (54 page)

“It's okay, Jenna. It's just me.” Rylan crouched in front of me, concern on his face. “What happened?”

I managed a weak smile and saw a flicker of relief on his face. “I'm alright.”

“What did Agent Matthews want?” He pulled a chair closer so that he could hold my hands.

“The FBI's taking over Christophe's case,” I said. “They want to cut a deal in exchange for his testimony and connections.”

“No.” Rylan shook his head emphatically. “They can't do that. Not after what he did...what he almost did.” He started to stand. “I'm calling the DA.”

“Sit.” I tugged on his hands. “Did you say something to the cops or the district attorney about the case?”

A faint flush stained his cheeks, answering my question without a word. Still, he answered, “I may have mentioned that I wouldn't be happy if Christophe didn't get as much time as he possibly could.” He met my eyes, a stubborn set to his jaw. “And they're going to hear it–”

“They came to ask me to sign off on it,” I interrupted. I smiled at him. “The Fort Collins DA wasn't going to let the FBI take the case if I didn't agree.”

“You didn't, though, right?” He edged forward in his seat until our knees were touching. “I mean, you told them to go to hell because there's no way that monster deserves a deal.”

“He doesn't,” I agreed. “But, Rylan, they think they can catch two major players, and who knows how many smaller ones.”

He raised a hand to gently brush over the cut on my cheek. “He hurt you.” His normally strong voice nearly cracked.

I nodded. “He did. But he can help stop people who are hurting a lot of other kids in a lot of worse ways.”

“You agreed to let them cut a deal with him,” Rylan said and sighed.

“You're upset.”

“No, love.” He leaned forward, cupping my face in his hands. “Not with you. Never with you.” His lips brushed across my mouth and he rested his forehead against mine. “I just hate that you have to sacrifice your justice so the FBI can do their job.”

“They don't have a choice, Rylan. It's the way things work. Besides, if it saves even one kid from having to go through what I went through, it's worth it.”

His eyes blazed as they met mine. “If he comes near you again though, I'll kill him myself.”

I put my hand on his cheek. “It'll be okay,” I reassured him. “Agent Matthews promised that we'll both have restraining orders against Christophe, and if he violates them, his deal's gone.”

“I don't give a damn about a piece of paper, Jenna.” Rylan's voice was rough. “I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If Christophe violates the order, he won't have to worry about prison.”

He pulled me towards him and I went eagerly. As he held me on his lap, I relaxed against his chest and let everything inside me melt away. Neither of us cared that we were at work. All that mattered was the comfort between us. I knew that what I'd done would hit me harder later on, after I had the time to process it. But at the moment, I was glad I made the choice I had. No matter how much I wanted Christophe to pay for what he'd done, I wanted to save others more. If this was a way I could help, then so be it.

Chapter 21

“Don't look away!” he snapped, grabbing my chin and forcing my face back towards the screen. “You were such a good girl.”

My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as he kept talking, kept asking all the questions he'd thought up over the years.

“Did you like taking the men one after the other, or was it better to get them two at a time?”

He asked it the same way he'd asked what my favorite color was.

“It hurt either way,” I answered. I'd told him I wouldn't lie.

He nodded. “Because they weren't your prince. If you're meant to be with someone, it always feels good.” His hand dropped to his crotch and he rubbed the erection growing there. “I wouldn't have let anyone else have you,” he said. His words took on a thoughtful tone. “I'm sure there are toys that'll let me do things without bringing in someone else.”

I kept my face blank and tried not to see or hear the video playing. I was pretty sure this was a new one since there was only one man, but that didn't make it any easier to watch. I didn't always remember every single encounter since there were times I'd been drugged, and others had been so tame that they'd faded behind the more brutal ones. This guy, I remembered though.

He liked to talk and watch. He always insisted on a mirror so we could both see what he was doing to me.

He wore a mask, like so many of the men in the videos did. His was a ski mask and the only thing he had on besides a condom.

I fixed my eyes on a spot above the tv to make it look like I was watching, but not seeing the images on the screen didn't help at all. The man narrated everything, telling me to look at my face when he entered me. He talked about my breasts, my skin, naming each part he touched and telling me what he liked, asking me what I wanted him to do. Of course, I didn't tell him to let me go. All that would've gotten me would've been a slap or a pinch. Plus my mom would've been pissed after.

He pulled on my hair, yanking my head up so I was watching when he shoved his fingers in my ass. I yelled but only because he wanted me to. I knew that what was coming next would hurt worse, and then I'd be screaming for real. The other thing he always did was finish in my ass.

“This one isn't one of my favorites,” Christophe confided. “He takes your princess gown off too soon. I think he should have left it on the whole time. You look so pretty in your gown.”

I jerked awake with a gasp. My heart was racing, my pajamas damp with sweat. I leaned forward, drawing my knees up to my chest as I concentrated on slowing my breathing. The light from the bathroom bathed my bedroom in dim light, not enough to keep me from sleeping, but enough that I could see. I'd been sleeping with it on since my first night back after the incident with Christophe.

I ran my hand through my hair and swore softly. It wasn't enough that I was forced to relieve the horrors of my childhood in my nightmares, but now he was there. Ever since I'd agreed to let the FBI deal with Christophe, I'd been having nightmares about what had happened. The movies he'd forced me to watch, the questions he'd asked. The dress he'd made me wear. His touch. Cutting my face. Sometimes the memories turned into the what-might-have-been and he raped me. Sometimes he killed Rylan in front of me and I woke up screaming.

Every night this week, I'd had a nightmare, woken, then fallen back asleep only to have a new one. I hadn't gotten more than an hour or two of actual sleep since Monday. Rylan was worried about me, I knew, but I didn't want to tell him what was going on. He hadn't liked that I'd given the FBI permission to deal, and I had no doubt that my nightmares would solidify in his mind that I hadn't made the right decision. Not that there was really anything I could do about it now, but I knew him. If I expressed the least bit of doubt, he'd be on the phone to the Fort Collins district attorney, using whatever influence he had to change things.

I loved him for wanting to protect me, but I knew this was something I had to deal with myself. In the back of my head, I could hear Lily telling me that wasn't true. Aside from Rylan, she'd been the only person I'd ever truly trusted. I'd trusted my therapist enough to talk about what had happened, but only because Lily had assured me that everything I'd said to the doctor would be confidential. It was a lot different trusting someone professionally than it was personally.

A stab of grief and loneliness went through me. I'd been only fifteen when Lily had died, but in those two years, she'd been more like a mother to me than my own ever had. She had been the one who'd rescued me even though there had been other cops present. The others had turned away in embarrassment and disgust when they'd seen me on my hands and knees in that basement. She'd taken off her jacket and wrapped it around me. She'd sat with me while the paramedics got me bundled up.

Things for me had gotten bad again after she'd been killed and only the thought of what she would've said if I'd committed suicide had kept me from doing it. Over time, the grief had faded, but there were occasions when it came back as sharp and painful as it had been right after the murder.

This was one of those times.

I'd never known what it was like to have a mother to ask for advice or comfort me, but I'd always imagined that it would've been something like how Lily had been. She'd hold me until I stopped shaking, then let me talk, never judging, never offering advice. And when I did finally ask her if I'd done the right thing, she would've told me that I had. That while taking care of myself was important, protecting others was even more important.

That was what Rylan couldn't understand. Not because he was so worried about himself. No, he understood protecting others at the expense of himself. He was just focused on protecting me. I appreciated it, but he wasn't looking at the big picture. He could sympathize, but he couldn't truly understand, not the way I did. He hated what had been done to me, and I knew that was one of the reasons he wanted to protect me. But I also knew that letting the FBI make a deal could prevent other kids from torture and rape, could save the ones who'd already been hurt and make the people who'd done it pay. Rylan wanted to help people, but to him, these were nameless, faceless victims. I was the one he saw and cared about. To me, these girls were
her
, the girl I had been before I'd become Jenna Lang. The girl who'd been broken and ruined. If this was the price I had to pay to save them, I’d do so without complaint.

The shaking stopped and I climbed out of bed. It was only a couple hours before my alarm was set to go off. No point in subjecting myself to more nightmares. I thought about showering and heading into the office early, but I knew Rylan would see me when I came in, and would want to know why I was there so early. We'd both been busy over the past week, getting caught up on everything that had gotten backed up over the holidays the times we'd talked, we'd avoided the Christophe situation. I didn't want to lie to him, but I knew that if I told him I was having nightmares, he'd want me to change my mind. It was better if we avoided the subject all the way around.

I couldn't hang around here though. It was hard enough being here when all I would do was eat dinner, shower and go to bed. I didn't think I could handle sitting out in the living room or even at the kitchen table, and relax, work or be even be normal.

I went to my dresser and quickly changed clothes, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. It was still dark out, but Fort Collins lit their sidewalks well, especially around the college. I wasn't going to go for a full workout or anything like that, but a run might do me some good, help me clear my head. If nothing else, it'd distract me for a bit.

I finished getting ready, stretched out so I wouldn't cramp up and then headed down, taking the stairs at a jog to warm up my muscles. The cold hair hit me as soon as I stepped outside and I gasped, making my lungs burn. I shivered, but kept jogging in place. A light snow was falling, but the sidewalks were still clear. That was good. The last thing I needed was to slip and hurt myself. I hated being sick or injured. It always made me feel helpless, vulnerable.

I shook my head and set off towards the campus. They usually had clear paths so the students could get to their classes more easily. I'd also run it enough that I knew the terrain. I settled into a steady rhythm and let muscle memory do the rest. I concentrated on my breathing, monitoring my pulse. The sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Most of the students wouldn't be coming back from break until the weekend, so the city was quieter than usual. Then there was the smell of the snow, crisp and clean. It didn't matter how dirty and slushy it got once it hit the ground. While it was coming down or even on its way, it smelled clean.

Maybe that was one of the reasons I'd always loved it. It covered everything. Even the muddiest and nastiest places could look pristine and beautiful after a good snowfall. It hadn't been like that back in Florida. There were plenty of parts of the state that were beautiful, but all I'd ever seen had been the run-down and the dirty. There hadn't been any snow there to cover it up. Only rain, and it had never washed anything clean, just made it worse.

I turned my thoughts away from the past and focused on the here and now. One foot in front of the other. No place to be. No rushing. It was all about the journey and I let that thought hold my mind as I ran across the campus, passing by Moby Arena. Over the small bridge and around the library. My feet moved over familiar paths as they took me back home again.

I'd timed things well. I had just enough time to shower, grab something semi-substantial to eat and reach the office as most people were arriving. We greeted each other with the usual morning nods. Now that the shock of my hair color change had worn off, people pretty much left me alone. Rumors were still going around about Christophe, but so far, the cops had managed to keep mine and Rylan’s names out of the media. There was talk, of course, but nothing substantial.

I had to admit, that was something positive about the FBI taking over. If they made a deal, the chances of anyone finding out details about what happened would be slim. That definitely had appeal. I didn't miss my co-workers giving me sideways looks.

Rylan was waiting for me in my office and my heart immediately skipped a beat. I wondered if I'd always feel like that when I saw him. The thought that I would scared me, but thinking that someday I wouldn't scared me even more.

“Morning.” He glanced out the doorway, then gave me a quick kiss.

I smiled. “Good morning.” I moved behind my desk, needing the space between us. It had been almost a full week since we'd had physical contact beyond a couple small touches and a kiss, and being near him tested my self-control.

“So.” He scratched his head, looking nervous. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out tomorrow.”

“Out?”

“Like on a date. A real date.” He grinned at me. “The kind of date where we actually put on clothes and go out in public.”