Cherry Adair - T-flac 03 (30 page)

"Come on, sweetheart, snap out of it."

He removed his hands reluctantly. There wasn't time for guilt or remorse. He had to find out what the hell was wrong with her. The first thought that came to mind was drugs. He checked her pupils. Almost normal.

Frantically he scanned the room. For brandy, whiskey, hell, anything to bring her out of it. He settled for the water and got up to pour some, then came back to the bed, setting the plastic glass on the table beside the lamp.

"Come back to me, damn it!" He barely recognized his own voice as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You're scaring the crap out of me, sweetheart. Come on now, wake up."

He shook her again, harder this time.

Her lashes fluttered. He held his breath.

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"That's it, come on now, jungle girl, you can do this." She blinked again, obviously disoriented. His smile felt ragged as she focused vaguely on his face.

"Ky—?" she asked on a dry, rasping breath, groping for him blindly as her eyes closed. Her fingers encountered his hand and she clasped it in a death grip against her face.

He held the glass to her lips with his other hand and after a moment she greedily gulped down the tepid water.

He felt every neuron in his body firing up again. "Tell me what he did to you." Her gaze went from vague to aware between one heartbeat and the next. Her eyelids slammed down like automatic garage doors.

"No way, lady. You can sleep later. Open your eyes. Now."

Delanie dragged her eyes open to look up at Kyle's face. The skin across his cheekbones appeared brutally stretched; his pale green eyes grimly hollow. She felt thick and stupid, and frowned because she couldn't figure out what was—

She gasped, then moaned, biting her lower lip as the pain bit into her with a vengeance. Burning. Brutal.

Unrelenting. It radiated up her leg in a sharp undulating rhythm in time with her furious heartbeat. Her vocal cords ached with the need to scream.

And scream and scream.

Silently he took her in his arms, pulling her around to lie against his chest as he sat propped against the headboard.

Strong arms tightened around her, her breath hitched. The hot ball in her chest burst open, and she wept, out of control, like a child increasingly frightened by its own sobs. There was no beginning to the excruciating pain, no end.

"Shhh." Kyle folded her against his chest, tucking her head into his shoulder, stroking her hair, rocking her in the safe harbor of his arms. "Shhh, sweetheart, shhh—"

Delanie squeezed her eyes even tighter… seeing Isabella.

Nausea rose in her throat.

She convulsively swallowed, struggling in Kyle's hold. He refused to let go, keeping her pressed against the steady pounding of his heart. Arms wrapped around his ribs, nails digging into solid flesh, she tried to make her breathing shallow. The terrified sobs came harder. He rubbed her back, whispering words of comfort. Terror poured from inside her in a tidal wave of such magnitude she knew she'd never be the same.

"Christ, sweetheart, tell me what I can do to help you?" Kyle's voice sounded raw; she felt his fingers against her scalp. Firm, trying to soothe.

Her grief and terror seemed endless, coming from a bottomless well, but the paroxysm of tears eventually eased to hiccupping tears and a runny nose.

She felt him stretch, then he held a piece of cloth under her nose. "Blow."

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Delanie took the fabric from him. Her hands shook as she blew her nose several times on what appeared to be a lace table runner. Sitting up carefully, she balled the material in her fist.

Kyle raised his hand to touch her. Involuntarily she flinched. His hand dropped, clenching on his own thigh before he reached for the glass on the table beside him. He handed it to her, and then wrapped her fingers firmly around it before he let go.

"What the hell did Montero do to you?" he demanded, soft and feral.

She drew in a shuddery, watery breath.
God
—Gulping the water, she handed the glass back. "It wasn't Ramon. It was…" Gall rose in the back of her throat threatening to choke her. She could feel the length of his legs, stretched out against her thigh as she half sat, half sprawled beside him on the wide bed.

"It was?" He pulled back the curtain of her hair, eyes scanning her red, swollen features.

"Isabella." She raised her face to look at him. "It was Isabella." Pale eyes gazed back at her steadily as his hand dropped from where he'd been touching her hair. His knuckles turned white, fisted against the bedspread.

A muscle jerked in his jaw. "Tell me."

"T-the soldiers brought me to I-Isabella. She made me watch h-home movies." Delanie shuddered. Kyle rested his head against the ornate headboard, his gaze never leaving her face. The pain in her leg made her grit her teeth as she switched to a slightly more comfortable position. Perspiration collected on her upper lip and she licked it off.

"Lauren was here. Here, in Isabella's house. I saw her on one of the videos—"

"Get to your
sister
later, Delanie. What the hell did that bitch do to
you
?"

"They t-tied me down. S-strapped me to a t-table and—Oh, God—she gave me a physical—to make sure I was c-clean and healthy f-for her customers—"

"Jesus."

"Then's—" Delanie swallowed convulsively. "Then she b-branded me."

The acrid smell of her own burning flesh seemed to fill her head. Horrified, terrified out of her mind, she'd lain there on that damn table, tied down like a broken butterfly pinned to a board, while Isabella had stirred a metal rod into a small brazier beside her.

The anticipation of worse to come had almost obliterated the painful indignity of the physical examination Isabella had subjected her to only moments before.

The long metal branding iron in Isabella's hand had seemed so slow, almost torpid. The devil-red tip had warmed her skin a split second before it bit. For several horrific seconds there hadn't been any pain. Just numbing anticipation. The sudden agony had exploded, wrenching a high-pitched scream from between her bloodless lips.

Ohgodohgodohgod.

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Overwhelmed by helplessness, powerless to stop the torture, Delanie remembered praying she
wouldn't
pass out, leaving herself open and completely vulnerable to Isabella.

"She
branded
you?" Kyle's lips went white. "Where?" His hands on her shoulder, while excruciatingly gentle, were implacable. "Show me
where
."

The pain encompassed her entire leg. She wasn't sure where. Was too scared to find out. "Somewhere on my right leg—No!" Delanie cried in alarm, as Kyle shot off the bed and started peeling the cotton dress up her legs. His hands felt cool on her knees.

She couldn't.

She just could not.

He gave her a steady look.

Delanie hesitated, then slowly, reluctantly, parted her knees, yanking the material down to cover what she could. She lay back against the warm spot he'd left on the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut. Every internal female organ contracted, as muscle and nerve resisted a second invasion.

His damp breath fanned her stomach. "Where? Where did she—"

The pain wasn't localized, and Delanie was afraid to ask Kyle if she'd been branded where she thought she had. "Is it—?"

He shook his head.

Her breath came out in a rush, tears filled her eyes again, and she bit her lip as, hands gentle, Kyle checked all the way down her leg until he came to her right ankle. He cradled her foot in a large warm hand as he inspected the burn.

"The head of a cobra. Right on the medial malleo—ankle joint," he told her, voice grim. "Right on the bone where the skin is thinnest. God
damn
that fucking bitch."

He looked to the far end of the room, his jaw working as if he could feel the sharp searing of muscle and nerve. "Give me a minute."

"We don't have any time to waste," she said urgently, sitting up, not without a considerable amount of agony. "I
have
to find Lauren now, don't you see? She might still be he—What are you doing?" She yelped in alarm as he gripped her shoulders with steely fingers.

Something wild and dangerous flared in his eyes. "I don't want to hear about your damn sister. Do you hear me, jungle girl? I-don't-want-to-hear-one-more-goddamned-word-about-your-
sister
, right now!"

Delanie looked up at him blankly. She had never in her life seen anyone so angry. For several taut seconds they stared at each other.

Kyle cursed. Dropping on the edge of the bed, he hauled her against him, pressing her tear-swollen face against his chest. His heart beat with an unsteady, heavy thud beneath her cheek. After a brief hesitation, she put her arms around his waist. It felt good to be held.

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In a voice so soft she had to strain to hear him, he whispered roughly against her hair, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so damn sorry."

She must have dozed, fading away with the feel of his arms securely around her. She roused to find Kyle beside her.

"What're you doing?" she asked, feeling drugged and sluggish. Her leg throbbed from toes to hip, but it seemed more distant now.

"They left some first-aid supplies. We can't leave this open, not in this environment. I'm sorry. This is going to hurt."

The room was dim. In the mirror across from the bed, she could see Kyle's back as he bent over her.

His body blocked hers from view.

"How bad?"

"The burn looks as bad as I'm sure it feels. Nothing a good plastic surgeon won't be able to eradicate when you get home." He paused. "Brace yourself, jungle girl, this is gonna hurt like hell."

"Worse… worse than hell." She bit the back of her hand as he carefully applied salve to the wound. The pain was so intensely agonizing that it wasn't localized. Yet.

She felt sick. "It feels
huge
. But it's only about the size of a dime, right?"

"Yeah.
Only
the size of a goddamned dime." A muscle in his jaw jerked, and he finished dressing the wound with his teeth clenched. "Okay?"

She nodded. He gave her an approving smile, which didn't reach his eyes. He barely had himself in check. "Good girl. Here." He took something out of his pocket and handed it to her. "See what you make of this."

"It's Lauren's earring." Her voice broke. "I gave it to her when she graduated high school. Kyle, where did you find it?"

"Over there on the floor."

"Isabella told me Lauren had been sold months ago."

Kyle cocked a brow. "I wouldn't believe anything that bitch says." He carefully bandaged her wound.

"Okay, that should do it."

"Do you think she's here? Oh Lord, Kyle, do you?"

"I'll check it out." He snapped off the light, plunging them into darkness.

"Leave the light on."

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He leaned forward, his chest brushing her breasts, and said very, very quietly against her face, "I turned it off so they can't watch us anymore."

Her gaze swept the room for a camera, a shiver running across her skin.

"The mirror, one-way glass." His voice was low, matter of fact. "Do
not
go to sleep. You understand, jungle girl?
Don't
fall asleep. There's nitrous oxide being fed into the room. Not enough to knock us out, but enough to keep us docile. I turned it down as much as I could."

Delanie tensed and felt his knuckle brush her cheek. "It's a more efficient way to keep us here than tying us up." She felt his fingers lightly touch the base of her throat. "Same goes for these damned dog collars."

Actually she hadn't given it any thought at all. In fact, she decided, lying there in the darkness beside him, thinking had already gotten her into enough trouble. His face felt scratchy with five o'clock shadow. He smelled sweaty. She liked it and inhaled deeply, immediately feeling the fuzzying effects of the gas on her brain. She struggled against it for a moment and then wondered, why bother?

The opulent room could have been the ritzy guest room on a French estate, she decided. The bed was comfortable, the darkness hid a multitude of fears and dangers, and thinking could wait. Her brain had overloaded hours ago. The darkness pressed in on her.

"Tell me the rest." He said, his voice grim.

She told him quickly, wanting to get it over with. She skimmed briefly over the "training" movies Isabella had forced her to watch. Where she'd seen Lauren. Where she'd seen herself and Kyle. She told him about Isabella's rich clients and how many girls Isabella had bragged about selling.

And she wished with all her heart that he'd left on the light, or that he'd wrap his arms around her. The darkness felt weighty, oppressive. She reached out, found his braid and ran her fingers carefully up and down the bumpy rope.

She imagined Isabella on the other side of that wall-sized mirror, avidly watching them. Delanie shivered, then realized that, at every point, Kyle had covered her body from view. She gave his braid a subtle tug.

He maneuvered her to the center of the bed, enfolding her in his arms as she finished.

"So Mama trains and sells sex slaves."

"Said it was very lucrative."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

"She put the drug in the wine she gave me and filmed us in your bedroom."

"I swept the room a dozen times a day. How the hell did I miss the cam—Never mind."

"And I thought she had the hots for
you
."

He exhaled sharply. "I would have traded places with you in a heartbeat."

They lay in the silence for several minutes. "You have to stay awake," he reminded her, but it didn't seem
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