Mistake Me Not

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Cursing himself for the amateur mistakes didn’t help Lacie, who was out there alone. When he’d regained consciousness, he was in a room with bare floorboards, and nothing else. The cable ties around his wrists were attached to the cast iron radiator behind him.

He had no idea how long he’d been out. From the moment he’d opened his eyes, he’d tried to fathom his bearings. He’d been shocked back to reality by the sound of her terrified scream, which still shuddered up his spine. From that moment, he’d bloodied his wrists trying to liberate himself, only to discover that the cable ties were simply the first line of defense, a solid metal chain also held one wrist in place.

Ryder had counted eight of the lowlifes, but he had no way to gauge developments during his unconsciousness. The scum made no secret of what they wanted. Lacie would have no way of stopping them from taking it.

She screamed again and Ryder smacked his head back against the radiator. The stinging reminder of the b****y welt his captors had given him didn’t make him regret the deed; he deserved to be in pain. He would never be able to give Lacie back what the g**g would take from her. No one would.

A scuffle came, and a shout, then a moment of silence. His blood chilled. Could they have taken it too far? Had she fought too hard? Could her torment be over in the worst possible way? After another shout there was some background noise that he couldn’t identify.

Not being able to figure out what was happening frustrated him especially as the sound came closer and he didn’t know what to prepare for. As he strained to hear, his eyes were blinded when the door opened unexpectedly.

Ryder didn’t see anyone or anything, then she was thrown in, and the door slammed again. Her body remained motionless. She lay there on the floor, saying nothing, her face averted from him. Certain he could see the rise and fall of her chest, he convinced himself that she was okay, alive at least. But the longer she lay there silently, the more he worried he was imagining things.

“Lace,” he said. “Lacie, baby, look at me. Come on now, baby, come on.”

Her bent knees straightened at an excruciating pace then she flopped to her back, but he still couldn’t see her properly, not with the lack of light.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. It pained him to know what had caused that trauma to her throat: she’d been screaming for her life.

“Me?” he asked. “Yes, I’m fine. Come over here, please, baby.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe her. “Whatever they did to you, I swear I’ll make them pay each and every one of them.”

“Stop looking after me,” she murmured without moving a muscle.

“I failed when it counts, baby. I swear to you, baby—”He stopped when she dragged her torso up using only her core muscles.

“I was so scared that they’d hurt you,” she said. “I didn’t know where you were, or what they were doing, and I—”

“Lacie, stop it, please.” Her tee-shirt was no longer tied, and though her back was angled toward him, he saw her pick up the hem and wipe her mouth. “Look at me.”

When her hand fell away from her face, he knew she was considering his request. The room was empty except for them, she had to have heard him. This time was crucial. He couldn’t let her pull away from him. She needed to know she had an ally, even if he’d been useless to her when it mattered most.

Slowly, she turned, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. In his years of service, and his years since, he’d seen atrocities. But that beautiful face, the innocence of those eyes he’d witnessed for the first time yesterday, shocked him more than anything he’d seen in the past. Dark blood was swiped across her chin and a bruise already marred her cheek. He didn’t miss the swollen egg forming at her hairline either.

“My God,” he breathed. Again, she used the tee-shirt to wipe her mouth. When she lifted the material, she uncovered thick red lines on the delicate skin across her taut body. “What did they do to you?”

Her tangled hair shielded her face when she dropped her attention down. It lingered there increasing his apprehension. He didn’t want her feeling any shame or guilt. Setting his focus on begging her to look at him, he opened his mouth. But in that same second her hands hit the floor, she crawled toward him. She didn’t stop and came all the way to him until she sat in the vee of his thighs, and nestled her head under his chin, pressing her cheek to his chest.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, kissing her hair.

Her legs stretched flat on the floor under his bent knee while his other knee provided her back support. A yell grew within him. In this state he could offer her no support. Holding her was impossible because of the ridiculous restraints on his wrists. He’d kill them. He’d kill them all. Turning his mouth against her again, he rubbed his cheek to her forehead hoping she would look at him.

When his gaze fell, he saw that the snap was off her unzipped jeans. “I’ll kill them,” he growled.

“I want to go home.”

“I know, baby. I’ll keep you safe. I swear, I’ll never let you down again.”

“Bruce is here,” she whispered.

“He let them—”

“Not much he could do,” she said. “He came in with another man a few minutes ago. They were wearing suits, respectable like.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “The man he came in with went crazy at the other guys. He said they’d compromised things.”

“I don’t care about them. I care about you. Did they touch you? Did they…?”

“The blood isn’t mine,” she said. “I bit him.” She nestled closer. Wrapping her arms around him, she linked his detained hands with her free ones. “I warned him I would.”

“You bit him,” he said, feeling an odd burst of pride.

“I warned him,” she said. “One of the others tried to get at me first, but there was an argument, and… I spat at the one trying to get into my jeans, so he hit me. The other guy laughed but his friend… took off his belt and used it to…”

Understanding hit him when he married her statement with the long red welts he’d seen. “I’ll kill them all.”

“They’re going to kill us,” she said. “I made them so angry. I’m sorry I’ve made things worse and—”

“No,” he said, using his chin to try to bring her attention up. “Look at me.” Despite obvious reluctance, she eventually did, but seeing her injured face churned his rage to a primal wrath. “You fought. I am so proud of you, baby. You’re a fighter.”

“They’re going to hurt us,” she said.

Those glorious eyes, once filled with pure virtue, filled with tears she didn’t want to shed.

Her lower lip quivered. When the sob escaped, she tried to take her eyes away, but he couldn’t let her, she had to know that he was there with her. On impulse, he trapped her mouth under his. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to do after what she’d been through, but she welcomed him, pushing her body upward to get closer. She kissed him one way, then tilted her head the other to do it again.

Her hands ascended his back and went through his hair until she held his face in her palms. The force of her kiss pushed his head back against the metal behind him. She rose to her knees, urging herself closer, consuming him in desperation. Her body pressed to his as though she wanted to climb into his skin. If he could have delivered for her there and then, he would have.

A click came from the far side of the room. Both heard it simultaneously; she stopped kissing him. They breathed in time, their eyes holding the conversation their mouths couldn’t. A splinter of light sent her spinning around, seating herself against him, her back to his front. Her hands splayed on his thighs as though she meant to protect him. The woman was a wonder, he’d let her down and yet she was getting herself between him and trouble and he was the one with the training.

The streak of light widened; all took time to adjust to the disparate illumination.

Lacie gasped on identifying the new entrant. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she snapped.

She was on her feet that Ryder only then noticed were bare.

“Lacie, it is you.”

“Yes, it is me,” she said, striding toward the door as though the soft woman who’d come apart against him was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. “What kind of company are you keeping these days, Bruce?”

“Don’t shout,” Bruce said, creeping around the door with his hands outstretched toward her.

“Lace,” Ryder growled, unhappy that anyone was going to put their hands on her again.

Lacie apparently didn’t share his concern because she had no fear of this new guy.

“Who’s your friend?” Bruce asked.

“None of your business,” she said. “What are you doing? What did you get yourself mixed up in?”

“What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, ignoring her questions. “These guys are for real; you could get yourself hurt.”

“No s**t,” she said. “They’re your friends.”

“They are not my friends,” he said. “I left town for a reason… How is Sorch?”

“Typical,” Lacie tutted. “Do you think you can just erase the last three months?”

“Just tell me how she is,” Bruce implored.

Lacie tipped up her chin and thrust her hands to her hips. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do,” he said. “Please… is she here?”

Ryder processed the conversation and wanted to smack himself in the face. Lacie was here for Bruce but not for herself. Bruce was Sorcha’s ex… she’d lied to him.

“No,” Lacie said. “She’s not here. Give me your pocketknife.”

“What?” Bruce asked.

“The little Swiss thing you carry.”

“How do you know I—”

“You opened the wine with it on Sorcha’s birthday.”

“If those guys—”

“Look at me, Booth,” she said. “What do you think Sorcha’s going to say when she hears about my day?”

“You can’t tell her. You can’t tell her I’m here. They’ll hurt her.”

“What is going on?” she asked. Bruce fumbled with something from his pocket and Lacie snatched it away from him. Without pause, she brought it to the wrist restraints. “What are you doing here, Bruce? Who are these people?”

“I left for a reason,” Bruce said. “I left to keep Sorcha safe. They need me.”

“Money,” Ryder said. After Lacie slit the cable ties, despair flitted to her expression at the sight of the chain. Ryder took the knife from her and flicked out another attachment to use on the padlock. “You’re working for them.”

“What?” Lacie gasped, turning from her crouch to look at Bruce. “How could you—”

“We don’t care,” Ryder said, pulling Lacie to her feet at his side. Using the knife, he slit the edge of the blanket over the window to survey what he could of the street. At the same time, he linked his fingers between hers. “How many of them are still in there?”

Bruce answered. “The boss went to pick up a shipment, there are three guys in—”

“Fantastic,” Ryder said, closing the knife and putting it into his own pocket.

When he started for the exit, Lacie pulled him back. “We can’t go out there,” she said.

“I won’t let them hurt you.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “You can’t ask me to watch you get hurt again.”

“Trust me,” he said overjoyed that he could touch her again.

Lifting his hand to her cheek, she rubbed it against his palm only to freeze on noticing the state of his wrist.

“Oh my God,” she said, reaching for the wound, but he pulled it away from her.

“Later,” he said. “We’ll fawn over each other later. Right now, I’m getting you out of here.”

“If they know I was in here…” Bruce stuttered.

“Do you want me to beat you a little?” Ryder probed, silently begging the guy to agree.

“No one is hitting anyone,” she said. “Your boss wanted rid of me. He was pissed I was even here. Just tell them I slipped out.”

“He doesn’t know about your friend,” Bruce said.

“Good,” she said. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“We’re leaving,” Ryder said and tried again to pass Bruce.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Lacie said, planting her feet wide. “They can take whatever the hell they want from me. But I won’t see you hurt. You’re here because of me.”

No one had ever defied him so totally and completely like this. Certainly no woman. Ryder could read the determination in her eyes. She really would let all those guys out there do whatever they wanted to her just to keep him safe. But that was his job.

He touched her again, warmed by her sentiment, but time now was for action. They’d appreciate each other when he could lock the door behind them and keep her safe in his bed. Ducking down, he tossed her over his shoulder. She screeched and punched at his back. If he had to fight with one hand on her pert little butt, then he would. Without restraints, there was nothing keeping him from protecting her. He’d meant what he said, he wouldn’t let her down again. Never again.

“What’s going on?” someone shouted.

She instantly went limp. “Put me down, I’ll help you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Not a chance, Dusty,” he said and kissed her outer thigh.

Only one of the guys came at him. The other two were too surprised that he was bloodied, she was battered, yet they still had the confidence to fight with each other despite circumstances.

With one punch, he dispelled with the toad who came at him. One watched from the couch as the other rolled a reefer. Bruce was nowhere in sight. Ryder wasn’t waiting. He ripped open the unlocked front door and took them down the corridor to the truck, which shockingly was still there, and still unlocked.

He tossed her into the back then rounded to the driver’s seat. He didn’t wait. He dug the spare key out from under the seat and put the pedal to the floor. They were free again, only an hour or so had passed since they’d entered that place, but everything was different. Nothing in his life would ever be the same after his road trip with Lacie Hart. This woman was… his.

The journey home seemed shorter than their outward trek despite his careful driving. Keeping within the speed limit and being courteous to other drivers may be the last things his adrenaline riddled body wanted to do, but he had a head wound and a battered woman in the car. The last thing either of them needed was to be pulled over by a cop. He didn’t want to explain their injuries, he wasn’t even sure he could.

Lacie had stayed in the back, lying out on the seats for over an hour. When she did move, the very first thing she did was open his duffel bag. Her first port of call were the alcohol wipes, which she used to clean the gouge on the back of his head. He’d hissed away from her, but she gripped his shoulder hauling him back. To soothe him, she kissed the side of his neck until he relaxed then carried on treating him.

Only after she patched him up did she clean and dress her own wounds. She stripped out of the stained tee-shirt and gargled mouthwash, spitting out of the window. After that, she retrieved a clean marl-grey tee-shirt from his duffel and put it on. They weren’t twenty minutes from her place when she climbed between the seats to sit at his side again. Her body sagged, like she’d shed the tension of their experience. For comfort—his as much as hers—he dropped his hand to her thigh. Lacie took his sunglasses from the center console and slid them on.

Despite everything that had happened, things between them were easy. Being around Lacie was natural. None of his actions felt new, it was as if he was entitled to touch her like he did, like she almost expected it. He liked that she had helped herself into his bag, to his clothes, to his glasses.

Energy built and fizzled, but it didn’t bounce back like it had, it merged, bred between them and settled in the air, holding them together like an invisible chemical bond. They were glued, a part of each other. How it had happened, or why, didn’t matter. This was cosmic, meant to be, and he’d be the first to admit how crazy that sounded. If this had been a couple of days ago, he’d have laughed at anyone who suggested such a thing. But there he was, with her, and it was real.

He turned into her street, maneuvered into a space at her door, and turned off the engine. Neither said anything they just breathed together, taking stock.

“Quite an adventure,” she said eventually.

“Yeah,” he said. She unclicked her seatbelt. “Will I come in?”

“No,” she said, taking her purse from the footwell where it had remained since before they got to the second address. “I’m going to take a bath, and then I’ll have to phone Sorcha.”

“What are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

“Do you want me to come back later? I’ll bring food.”

“I’m not really—”

“It’s not about s*x,” he said, taking her hand from her lap. “We’ll take our time.”

“I know that with everything that has happened—”

“We have to talk,” he said, hyperaware of her misconception about his identity or rather his lie. He wanted her to trust him completely. After letting her down today, he had ground to gain. “There are things we have to talk about.”

“You’re talking about Sorcha,” she said, sliding his sunglasses from her face though she didn’t look at him. The darkening bruise under her eye made him want to swing a U-turn to head directly back to where they’d come from.

“I—”

“Yes, I wasn’t entirely honest. Bruce and I were never together, he was with Sorcha. When she and I spoke about it, she told me how badly you took the break-up. We didn’t want you to feel awkward, and we didn’t want to taint your view I suppose. I’m sorry,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I know it can’t be easy hearing about your lover’s former lover.”

“Lacie,” he said, keeping her hand though she tried to withdraw. “What happened to starting fresh?”

“Thank you,” she said. “For the last couple of days.”

“Don’t pull away from me. I want to see you again.”

“She’s my best friend, how can I—”

“Trust me, Lacie.”

“Thank you, Seth,” she said, using his hand to pull herself to him. She kissed his cheek and dropped his glasses in his lap. “Goodbye.”

Every time she used that name, the bile churned in his belly. The day had been tough for her. He let her go this time, watched her ascend her stairs, and get through the door. He’d let her have the bath, talk to her friend, and get a good night’s sleep. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot.