Escape From Paradise (33 page)

My parents. They were here and I was going to see them.

I looked up at Mr. Douglas, trying to get ahold of my breathing with a hand to my chest. He gave me a small smile.

“You’ll be alright.”

“No. I’m scared,” I admitted, my voice sounding small. “Maybe I shouldn’t…maybe we should wait. I—I need a shower.”

I caught Agent Abernathy shooting Mr. Douglas a look in the rear view mirror, like he was telling him to calm me, and the pressure made my heart beat even faster. Mr. Douglas took my hand, running his thumb back and forth over the top. I wanted to enjoy that touch, but I couldn’t when I knew he was only doing it because his partner silently told him to.

“Don’t leave me,” I said.

The other Agent’s quizzical eyes went to Mr. Douglas in the mirror again, but my savior’s attention was fully on me.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. The house we’re going to is my brother’s.”

I nodded, inhaling and exhaling with care.

We ended up on a winding road over gorgeous hills and into the dip of a valley. At a black gate, Agent Abernathy entered a code and the iron gate swung open. The house looked like a grand cottage. Too large to be quaint. Too small to be ritzy. Perfect, really.

As the headlights rounded the curve and landed on the house, the door flung open and two familiar bodies came sprinting out, running at the car before the Agent could come to a stop. My heart swelled gigantic in my chest. Agent Abernathy slammed on the brakes, muttering a curse and I felt a fresh set of tears forming in the back of my eyes. My hand fumbled for the door handle and I shoved it open, stumbling out and into my mother’s arms.

Our simultaneous cries rose up and filtered into the night air. I felt my father’s arms come around us and his face against mine, kissing my wet cheek countless times, and whispering, “
Thank you, Lord.
” Mom’s hand felt my back, my arms, and she pulled away enough to look at my face.

“I knew you were alive,” she whispered.

She hugged me again, so tightly it was as if our breaths depended on this closeness. She petted my hair and for a second I felt five-years-old-again.

“It’s all over now, baby.” I wanted to sink into her comfort, to take her every word as the gospel truth, but it wasn’t all over now—not in my head, anyway. Her unconditional devotion and affection was overwhelming. I didn’t deserve it. How could I have deceived this woman, who only ever wanted the best for me?

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Mama.” A fresh sob sounded from my chest. “I’m sorry I went to Cancun. I’m sorry for what I put you through.”

She stood straight and took my face in both hands, her voice quaking. “Don’t you do that, sweetheart. No matter how you ended up in Mexico, what happened there was not your fault. You hear me?”

My face fell to her soft shoulder again, and I let her hold me, soaking in her unconditional love and forgiveness. Dad’s hand smoothed down my hair and my back.

“We’re going to have a fresh start now, Angie girl,” he said. “We’ll work through this thing together.”

I nodded. My soul felt fuller than it had in ages, but it was a foreign feeling. I was scared to let myself enjoy it. Afraid it would be snatched away.

I heard Dad’s footsteps crunching away and looked up to see him walking toward Mr. Douglas, who stood at the head of the car with his arms crossed. Mom fit my hand into hers and held tight as we watched.

Mr. Douglas uncrossed his arms and took Dad’s outstretched hand. Hearing my daddy getting choked-up when he spoke almost made me lose it again.

“Thank you, sir. I can’t thank you enough.” Dad kept shaking his hand, thanking him, not letting go. Mr. Douglas looked embarrassed by Dad’s profuse gratitude.

“It was my honor, Mr. Birch.”

Dad then reached around and hugged Mr. Douglas’s tall frame, pressing his face to his chest and slapping his back. Mr. Douglas gave him an awkward pat and looked strangely shamefaced.

Mom was next to bombard the man who’d saved me. With a series of sniffles, she released me in order to embrace him. Mr. Douglas still looked uncomfortable, but he was a good sport. Dad was quick to take Mom’s place at my side, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. I kept my eyes down, a deluge of strange emotions toppling end over end. All of the love and affection was almost too much, like an overload of rich food to my system. I didn’t deserve it. I could hardly process being touched in a nonsexual way by people who wanted nothing from me except my love, which I’d tucked away so deep for so long.

I started to feel lightheaded and I tilted to the side, reaching out for the car.

“Whoa, there,” Dad said, righting me by the elbow as Mom gasped.

In a flash I felt Mr. Douglas at my other side, his arm around my waist. “She hasn’t eaten since this morning.”

“I’m not hungry.” I felt my eyes flitting closed and my body suddenly scooped up, floating.

“I’ll get her inside,” Mr. Douglas said.

My head was heavy on his shoulder and I let my eyes close as my body shut down and I passed out.

Colin barely slept that night. Twice he left Graham’s house to walk the sprawling land and look for signs of prying eyes. It felt good to have the weight of his gun back in his hand. He regretted bringing the Birch family to his brother’s home, even though nobody knew Colin and Graham were brothers except the authorities. Colin never came around, so he knew it would be safe, yet he didn’t feel at ease.

He never felt completely safe in his life before this, but it was different when innocents were in possible danger, as well. He couldn’t stop thinking about their reunion. He’d never seen such open, genuine love in his life. His own parents had loved him, but they hadn’t been overly affectionate verbally or physically. But what the Birches had…that’s how a family should be.

Angela had woken when he placed her in the guest bed, and she absolutely freaked the fuck out when Colin went to leave. It took her parents, Colin, and Abernathy to calm her and make her believe Colin would be just down the hall. Her parents had exchanged a worried look, but they didn’t seem to question Angela’s clinginess to Colin.

Abernathy, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow at him as they left the room, and whispered, “Got a bit deeper on the case than expected, eh, son? I wondered if it might.”

Colin blinked and looked away, but Abernathy stopped him in the hall with a hand to his shoulder.

“Whatever you had to do to get her out, it was right.”

Colin swallowed, clenched his jaw. He wasn’t certain he’d done right at all.

Abernathy gave his shoulder a solid pat. “You’re both safe, and time will heal. We’ll meet tomorrow to debrief. I expect every detail.” Again his eyebrow went up. He seemed to know Colin had done something at the villa he regretted.

Colin could only nod. He wasn’t looking forward to that debriefing.

The night was long, and Colin’s thoughts were tangled, prickly vines. Every negative emotion kept going back to Fernando Ruiz. Marco’s son. The original fucking bastard who sought out a young woman to hurt her, stealing two years of her life and any sense of normalcy hereafter. He had no doubt Fernando was a serial rapist. And with Daddy’s supply of money he could get away with it.

Colin didn’t think he’d be able to lay his head to rest again knowing that fucker was out there alive. Probably happy. Especially if an inheritance had been left to him. If Fernando returned to the villa to take his father’s place, he would become an untouchable. Colin couldn’t allow that. The very thought made his muscles tense. At two AM he texted Abernathy.

See what you can dig up on Fernando Ruiz in Asia before we meet.

There was no response, but Abernathy would be on it.

At three AM Graham’s stupid arse stumbled in, wasted.

“Holy fuck,” he said when he saw Colin standing there. “Thought you was a fuckin’ ghost, I did.”

Colin glared at his brother, too thin for his tall body, hair a mop of curls, lip ring and stretched earlobes. “Do I look fucking transparent?”

Graham steadied himself and tilted up his chin to peer through his hair. “Nae. S’pose not. More like a pissed off ring fighter or some shite. What you so mad about? Why’re you lot usin’ my place anyhow?” He stumbled past Colin to the bathroom and took a piss with the door wide open.

“I’ll explain everything in the morning when you’re sober. Just try to be polite to your guests. They’ll only be here a few days.”

Graham grunted and bumped backward into the wall.

Colin forced him to drink a tall glass of water and brush his teeth before crashing onto his bed. He allowed himself to peer down at his sleeping brother for one moment before sighing. It never got easier seeing the wreck of his younger brother’s life. For years he’d tried to get his brother to dig himself out of this bottomless pit, but Graham didn’t give a fuck about anything. Or so he made it seem. He didn’t want this kind of future for Angela. He hoped to God she would rise up through these ashes, not fall into them.

Colin left his brother to sleep. He wasn’t too worried about Graham bothering the Birches while they were here. His brother would sleep during the day and be gone during the night.

By the time everyone woke the next morning, Colin had buzzed his hair and shaved his face. He gave himself a good long stare in the mirror and swore he’d do the right thing by Angela, whatever that may be. It physically hurt in his gut to think about being without her, but he would never force himself on her or her family. He didn’t think he could ever fit into a unit like that, anyhow. Although it might be…nice.

He shook his head. He needed to erase that thought from his fucking mind.

At six AM a light knock at the front door caused Colin’s heart to pound. Who’d gotten through the security gate? The house was silent as he slipped from his room. He held his gun close and pulled back the edge of the curtain enough to see a tall brunette in business attire.

The head shrink. Fuck, he didn’t even have a shirt on. He’d forgotten Abernathy said he was sending someone.

Colin opened the door. The woman’s bland expression morphed into one of interest as she took in Colin’s face and bare chest, all the way down to the gun in his hand. She spoke in a pleasant Scottish accent.

“You must be Agent Douglas? I’m Agent Deena MacDonald, the psychologist.”

She stuck out a slender hand, her eyes perusing him once more. He shook her hand and asked, “Bit early, isn’t it?”

“Agent Abernathy and I agreed it would be best to speak with the girl first thing when she wakes.”

He nodded and let her in, his gaze scouting the grounds once before closing the door and locking it. He stuffed his gun into the waistband of his jeans.

“Everyone is still asleep,” he said.

“That’s fine. I can speak with you first.” She looked professional enough, but Colin could hear the hint of something in her voice—that flirtatious vibe some women gave off.

“Let me get a shirt on.”

Her near smile fell as he left her to put on the wrinkled shirt from the day before. He’d have to ask Abernathy to bring something for him to change into when they met later.

Agent MacDonald was sitting at Graham’s dining table—probably the only person to ever sit in that proper room—with her long legs crossed, skirt landing just above her knees, and a notebook in hand. She slid on a pair of wire rimmed glasses and watched him with that same interest as he sat across from her.

She was attractive, he admitted in a fleeting thought, and that’s where it ended for him. Because while this woman’s stealthy gaze roamed his body, all he could think about was Angela. Agent MacDonald’s bit of cleavage, and the shadow leading up her legs into her skirt didn’t quite have the appeal they might’ve over a week ago.

Fuck me
, he thought. Maybe he was the one who needed a head shrink.

“Agent Abernathy tells me the girl was held captive as a sexual slave for two years. Is that correct?”

“Angela,” Colin said. He cleared his throat, crossed his hands on the table in front of him. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“You may not have all the answers I’m seeking, but every bit helps. Do you know if they drugged her regularly?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of. I never saw her drugged.” He remembered what Graham had been like, and it was nothing like that at the villa. The other Agent took note.

“How about physical abuse? Was she beaten?”

Yes, by me.
Colin dropped his eyes and his knee began to bounce. “Uh.” Again he cleared his throat. He suddenly wasn’t in the fucking mood to talk about this. “Not regularly. There were mentions of previous punishments.”

“Mm.” Agent MacDonald watched him a bit too carefully for his liking. She tapped the pen on the paper until his steely gaze hit hers and she sucked in a small breath. She touched her fingers to her chest before continuing.

“How would you describe the overall conditions where she was held captive?”

“It was a fucking seaside mansion.” Her mouth quirked at his language, but he was certain she was a big girl, so he kept going. “She and all the slaves were kept very clean. I never saw the slave quarters, but I imagine they were pristine like the rest of the place. She wasn’t fed enough from what I saw, but—”