Deadly Obsession (19 page)

“Our mystery man, perhaps?”

“It’s not much. But it’s something.” Sam met his heated expression.
“Your call, buddy.”

Gage joined Sam at the door. “I’ll trust your hunches any day. Is Trevor still using the other frequency?”

“As far as I know.
They switched so they could talk without worrying about the bastard hearing them, so I doubt they heard Brooklyn.”

“Good. Then they won’t alert him.” Gage motioned forward. “Let’s go.”

Sam nodded and headed down the corridor. They followed the twisting passage until the sound of Brooklyn’s voice wavered in the air again. She was pleading with Drake to loosen the handcuffs…to not touch her.

Gage
stopped,
his chest tight, unable to deny the truth. The creep was going to rape her, or worse, kill her, and he was going to hear every second of it. Forever live with the memory of the terror in her voice, the arrogant words the bastard said to her as he strangled the life from her.

His wife.

His life.

He snarled. He’d kill the man, slowly and painfully. Laugh when the guy begged for mercy knowing there was none to give. He was going to make this Drake pay, no matter what the cost. He growled and grabbed the doorknob.

“Easy,” said Sam, wrapping his fingers around Gage’s arm. “We’ve got to be close.
Just a few more minutes.”

“He’s killing her. She doesn’t have a few minutes!”

“I don’t think he’ll kill her. He seems pretty intent on taking her alive.”

“Yeah, so he can rape her!”

Sam winced at the pure hatred in his voice, but he didn’t care. There was no way to contain it, to pretend there was anything but revulsion for the vile creature violating his wife. He needed to get to her.
Now.

 
“He said there was only one more door.” Gage watched Sam nod his reply, the desperation Gage felt mirrored in his friend’s expression. There was no need to state the obvious. They both knew if they didn’t reach Brooklyn before Drake reached that door, they’d never find her.

“Let’s just clear this one first,” said Sam.

Sam grabbed the handle and pulled it open, as Gage popped through clutching his gun. He felt the blood rush from his head, his heart skip two beats and then kick start into overdrive as he watched a man at the far end of the corridor open a door and step through. The dull light from the lot blurred the man’s features, but his silhouette was sharp, as was the outline of the woman draped across his back. She hung without substance, her head swaying as the man turned to close the door. For a second their gazes locked, and while Gage couldn’t see the man’s face, he knew the bastard was smiling.

Gage growled and took off, running like a man possessed. He could hear Sam behind him, his footsteps in perfect sync with his. He reached the door several seconds behind the guy and barrelled through, rolling across the ground and into a squat. He swept the lot, finally spying the guy way off to his left, heading for a black Jeep.

“He’s pretty far,” shouted Sam. “But there’s no time to call in Trevor’s men.” He looked over at Gage. “Think you can make the shot?”

Gage snarled, as he aimed his gun. “Hell yes,” he said, slowly releasing his breath as his finger compressed the trigger.

* * * *

Sue opened the door, one arm cinched around her waist, a tight smile capturing her lips. She nodded at Brooklyn as Gage led her across the porch, her body barely hidden beneath his leather jacket.

 
“There’s stuff in the spare room,” said Sue, holding the door open. “You can shower and change while I get some tea.”

Brooklyn
watched Gage nod his thanks, his features too stiff to register any change. He’d been that way since she’d regained consciousness at the hospital, jerking back to life as Dr. Nick O’Brian hovered over her, his tender expression finally penetrating the terror. He’d backed away slightly, given her time to realise where she was and that the immediate threat was over. Sam had stood in one corner. Gage the other. Neither had spoken, but merely watched, their eyes dark and brooding, their lips pulled into tight lines, turned down slightly in the beginnings of a grimace. She’d only been able to hold Gage’s stare for a second before the intensity of his expression had chilled her blood and she’d dropped her gaze to the floor. But he’d watched her. They both had.
Listened to every answer, frowned at her single syllable responses.

Had Drake raped her?
No
.

Had he touched her?
Yes
.

For thirty minutes Nick had grilled her, his questions more specific until he was satisfied with the outcome. Then he’d checked her shoulder and head, forced a smile and stepped back, handing her a gown. She’d dropped it on the floor the moment it’d touched her hands and turned away, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. Anger had burned then when she’d realised no one had bothered to hide her near naked appearance. That she’d spent God knows how long in the room with nothing but panties and a bra covering her, the pants she’d worn obviously taken for evidence. She’d sneered when Sam had picked it up and held it out to her, her expression hardening until his face had paled. Then Gage had stepped forward, his jacket slung across his arm. He’d started to remove his shirt when she’d directed the anger towards him. He’d stopped with the waist pulled up to his chest and simply handed her his jacket instead. She’d taken it, wrapped it around her shoulders and walked to the door, swaying against the doorframe. Sam had lunged in her direction but had stopped before touching her, his indecision etched across his brow. He’d flashed Gage and Nick a desolate glance then simply moved back to the wall.

Now she sat in Sam’s living room, huddled in one of two single chairs, her knees tight to her chest, a mug of tea clutched in her hands. No one spoke. Four souls trapped in the same dark nightmare. She was wearing some of Sue’s clothes—a pair of grey sweats and a dark purple sweater. They were too large, but they beat naked any day of the week. She’d showered for twenty minutes, trying to erase the feel of filth from her skin, but nothing had helped. She couldn’t erase evil.

“Brooklyn?”

Sue’s voice wavered in the stillness, startling Brooklyn from her thoughts. She chanced a gaze at the woman. She was sitting beside Sam on the couch, her leg and arm touching his. She seemed restless, nervous of the sombre mood suffocating the small space.

“You haven’t had any of your tea. Can I get you something else?”

Brooklyn
tried to smile, knowing it was a pathetic attempt at best. “It’s not the tea. I’m fine.”

“Could I get you something to eat?”

“Maybe tomorrow.
I’m not very hungry right now.”

Sam grunted at her reply, shooting a heated glare at Gage. Brooklyn watched the men exchange the same stolid expression before Sam turned to her.

“You need to eat something. You’ve lost too much weight already.”

Brooklyn
snorted and stared into her mug. “I’m hardly starving to death. One more day won’t make a difference.”

Sam opened his mouth, but then closed it with a sigh. He looked back at Sue, who smiled warmly at him.

“Brooklyn.”

She stilled at the sound of Gage’s voice, so deep and hard, it weighed down the already heavy air hanging in the room. She clenched her jaw, drawing on any reserve strength she had left just to turn towards him, and hold his gaze. Oh God. Her heart flickered, stopping dead for several seconds before finding some obscure rhythm that left her gasping for air. His was angry, or so far beyond it she couldn’t really tell what he was feeling. His hands clenched the arms of the chair and his jaw twitched. She could tell his control was hanging by a thread as he watched her through narrowed eyes. She forced herself to swallow, fear tingling down her spine. She hadn’t cried since she’d woken, but she knew the tears were only a careless word away. She bit at her bottom lip, praying for divine intervention, as she matched her husband’s grim expression.

“Yes?”

Gage swallowed, pausing just long enough to make her shift in the seat slightly. “You need to eat.”

Four words—five if she included her name. That’s all he’d said to her. Pain churned in her chest.
God how she wanted him to hold her.
To wrap her in his arms, protect her with his heat, his male hardness. She was clinging to her sanity by her fingernails, and seeing him so removed only pushed her further over the edge. She looked away, not willing to let him see the pain in her eyes, or how her chin quivered to the beat of her heart. “I’m really not hungry.”

“Hungry or not,” he started.

She turned back, anger finally bubbling inside. “What good will eating
do
when I’ll only throw it up!” She uncurled her body, slammed the mug on the coffee table and stood up. “I said I’m not hungry, so stop staring at me like I’m some defiant child who doesn’t know any better!”

Gage rose to his feet, taking every advantage of his larger frame to intimidate her. “Oh, and I suppose today’s little episode was a great example of how good you are at making your own decisions!”

Brooklyn
ignored the stab of pain that nearly slammed her to the floor and met his accusations head-on. “It wasn’t me who screwed up today. I did my part. I signed books, smiled at the people, wiggled my ass to try and draw the bastard out. I followed everyone’s instructions to the tee!”

“Including the one where I told you to wait for me?”

Brooklyn
stopped,
her tongue too thick to work right. It didn’t matter that the bastard had all but dragged her through the door. It didn’t matter that she’d dislocated his shoulder in an effort to free herself. She’d followed, and that’s all Gage could see. She backed up, feeling a rush of vertigo wash over her. She grabbed the chair, willing the darkness to abate, as she waited for her legs to collapse. She heard Sam curse and felt someone grab her arm. She opened her eyes, blinking through the haziness. Gage was standing beside her, shouldering most of her weight against his chest. His face had paled and she could see the heavy lines creasing his brow.

She sucked in a shallow breath and pulled back, breaking his embrace. He moved to follow, but stopped when she glared at him.

“Don’t.” She backed up until her back brushed the wall. She was going to lose it. Cry, scream,
laugh
hysterically. Or maybe she’d just fade into a drug-like numbness where nothing mattered anymore. Either way, she needed to escape. She flashed a quick look at Sam. “Am I spending the night here?”

“Same room you changed in,” he
said,
his voice so raw it made her cringe.

She simply nodded and headed down the hall.

She wouldn’t let Gage see how much he’d hurt her.

She wouldn’t let him know how much she needed him.

She wouldn’t feel anything.

“God damn, Gage!
What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam stomped to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. “For God’s sake, I know you’re upset, but taking it out on Brooklyn isn’t the answer.”

Gage met Sam toe-to-toe. “I wasn’t taking anything out on her. I was merely stating a fact. We both know she only agreed to do the damn scam because she was pissed at me. So don’t act like I’m the heavy here. It’s about time she realised life isn’t all neat and tidy like in her books. Out here, there’s not always a happy ending.”

 
Sam snorted and shook his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking several quick breaths before locking his gaze on Gage again. “By the look on her face, I’m positive she got the message…
buddy
.” He turned to Sue. “I’ll be knocking back that case of Corona on the back deck if you need me.” He left.

Sue pursed her lips as she rose slowly from the couch. She gave Gage a half smile and followed after Sam. Gage cursed, fighting the need to throw Brooklyn’s mug across the room. Shit! Why did they argue every time? Why couldn’t he say what was really on his mind? He felt like screaming out his frustration, but huffed and kicked at the chair instead. He was angry.
But more with himself than Brooklyn.
In fact, he’d intended to tell her how proud he was of her. How well she’d done disengaging the bastard’s jamming device, fighting back when the opportunity arose. But instead, he’d yelled at her. Jesus, he might as well have screamed, ‘I told you so’, and been done with it.

He sank into the chair. All he’d wanted to do was hold her. But something inside him had snapped when he’d bent down over her limp body and scooped her off the pavement. Her pants had been torn and smudged with blood, and one breast had been freed from her bra. He’d touched her gently, drawing the fabric over her pale skin as Trevor’s unit had pulled up at the scene. He hadn’t even given the man time to speak before he’d brushed past him, carrying Brooklyn against his chest. He couldn’t look at Trevor, or his team, without seeing the images Brooklyn’s words had evoked as he’d listened to her plead for her life.

“Damn you, Drake. I swear you’ll pay.” It wasn’t enough he’d shot the bastard in the leg, dropping him to the ground in a crumpled heap. Or that they’d been close enough Drake had been forced to leave Brooklyn behind, limping over to his Jeep and skidding out of the lot, nearly colliding with a bus. Just the fact he’d escaped—again—was a failure in Gage’s books. One he couldn’t afford to make.