Haven 1: How to Save a Life (41 page)

Prescott’s hand came to rest on the cage beside his. “What if I like seeing you in it?” He whispered the words over Kevin’s ear.

Kevin swung around. Dylan and the others were moving toward the open door.

“Now,” Prescott said, “where are they? In my other room?”

“They don’t want to be here.” Kevin slid to the end of the cage so he could draw Prescott as far into the corner of the room as he could manage.

“I know what they want. Just like I know what you want.” Prescott followed him, then froze. “You’re distracting me.” The rustle of shuffling feet caught his attention.

Aaron had fallen, and Dylan was helping him up.

Kevin grabbed Prescott’s arm. “Don’t go.”

Prescott’s eyes widened. Not with anger. Admiration, maybe. That was more unnerving than anything. Kevin would rather have that creepy, obsessed look back.

Prescott watched him for a moment more, then said, “You’re going to be better than I imagined.” Despite his words, he seized Kevin by the throat with one hand. “You will get in that cage and wait for me while I go get them.”

“No, I’m not staying here. I’m not doing anything you tell me to.” Kevin clutched at Prescott’s arm, but the tugging was futile.

“You think they’ll find a way out? They will never leave me. Neither will you.” Prescott leaned in and brushed his lips against Kevin’s.

Kevin’s stomach rolled at the cold, invasive touch.

Prescott pulled back and swept the tip of his index finger along Kevin’s lips. “I’ve got such plans for you.”

Kevin couldn’t get put into that cage. Or worse. His parents would lose both their sons. He’d never told them the truth—about the night his brother died, about himself.

And Walter.

Those three words Kevin had whispered in the motel room couldn’t be the only time he’d get to tell him how he felt. Walter would never forgive himself if something happened to Kevin. Even if it had been Kevin’s idea to go with Prescott.

Stupidest idea of his life.

But he didn’t regret it. Not even as the fingers around his throat cut off more of the air to his lungs. Dylan and the others were gone. They’d gotten out of the room, and they knew the tunnels would lead them to the Haven, where they’d find help, where they’d be safe.

And where Kevin would be joining them soon. He wasn’t giving up. He kicked at Prescott’s shins and clawed at his forearm, digging his fingernails into the flesh.

Prescott tightened his grip more. “You want the pain, don’t you?”

More of Kevin’s airway closed off.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Kevin’s voice rasped as he spoke. “I need you to go to hell.”

* * * *

Walter raised his foot and gave another sharp blow beside the lock on the door. The steel rattled, and the wood frame cracked. Even if Prescott had used reinforced hardware, the old wood surrounding the door would be no match for repeated kicks.

Walter spun around and used a mule kick for more force. Another kick and more of the wood splintered. Then a chunk of the frame busted off. He got the door open and flew out of the room, gun in hand, phone held up to light the way. He was definitely in a tunnel. The space was a few inches taller than he and an arm’s width across. Packed dirt surrounded him with wooden beams running overhead.

He went with his instincts and moved in the direction leading away from the main part of the club’s building. He stopped when the tunnel broke off into three passages.

A muffled voice came from ahead. “Maybe we’re going the wrong way.” The echoed words bounced off the walls. No way to tell which of the three routes it had come from.

“Kevin?”

“Hello? Is someone there?”

That had come from the tunnel on his far right.

“Hang on. I’m coming.” Walter raced down the passage and around a curve. The beam of a flashlight came into view. Then four men, moving toward him, all in pants and shirtless. Two of the men flanked another, their arms wrapped around his waist and shoulders. The last man followed behind them. They were all out of breath.

Even with the cuts and bruises and the low light of the flashlight visible on their faces, Walter knew their names. He’d seen their pictures. Been inside their homes, talked to their families and friends.

The one in the middle—Aaron Benton—spoke. “Mr. Simon?”

Walter rushed toward them. “Are you okay?”

“We were kidnapped.”

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay now.” He tucked his phone away, kept the GLOCK in his hand, and relieved the other two men of Aaron’s weight. He helped him lean against the wall of the tunnel.

“There are two more back there.” Aaron swung his head in the direction they’d come. “Dylan and—”

“Kevin?”

“Yeah, I think his name was Kevin. He helped us get out of the cages.”

Cages? “Where were you?”

“Back that way. There’s a hole in the ceiling with a ladder. It goes up into a basement.”

Walter pointed in the direction he’d come. “You guys keep on moving. I’m going for Dylan and Kevin. How far is the hole from here?”

“Not far,” Aaron said.

“Where do I go once I climb the ladder?”

“Stay to the right. We were in a room a couple of doors down from there.”

Walter moved down the tunnel the way they’d come. They turned to watch him leave. He pointed behind them in the direction where he’d entered the tunnels and explained about the rope in the elevator shaft as he continued down the hall.

Aaron nodded, and Walter spun on his heel. Sprinting down the tunnel, he shouted back at them. “Get out of here and get help.”

* * * *

The fingers around Kevin’s neck loosened. Air rushed into his lungs.

This fucker was toying with him.

Prescott jerked him forward. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

What did he think he was doing?

“I’ll only give you exactly what you need.”

“I…need…” Kevin barely heard his own words as he choked them out.

Prescott’s hand around his throat tightened again. Kevin clawed at his arm. He kicked, connecting every other one with Prescott’s shins, and Prescott just smiled more.

Fucking asshole.

Then he made a gurgling, wheezing sound, and his eyes went wide. He let go of Kevin and stumbled sideways. As Prescott fell to the floor, he groped at his neck where the handle of a screwdriver jutted out the side.

Dylan stood over him. “Take that, motherfucker.”

Prescott tried to speak. All that came out were more wet, gurgling sounds.

Kevin raised a hand to his own throat and gasped for air. He continued like that until he could breathe and move at the same time. He lunged for Prescott’s pants pocket and fished out the keys. He opened the door to the nearest cage and stepped back so he could lift his foot to Prescott’s ass. He gave a good shove, and Dylan got in on the act. They rolled Prescott into the cage.

“Let’s get out of here.” Kevin secured the lock on the cage and headed for the door. Only Dylan wasn’t behind him.

He’d crouched down before Prescott, who was still clawing at the screwdriver, blood seeping down his neck, his eyes unfocused but watching Dylan.

“How do
you
like it, you sick fuck?”

“Come on.” Kevin yanked on Dylan’s arm. “Let’s go.” That seemed to snap him out of his rage.

They ran for the door and sprinted down the corridor toward the hole in the floor. Kevin climbed down the ladder into the dark tunnel below, then turned to help Dylan. With only the dim light from above, Kevin could barely see his own feet, let alone anything else.

It didn’t matter. They’d find their way.

Right as Dylan’s feet hit the ground, a shout rang out.

“Kevin!” Walter was running toward them, gun in one hand, his phone held up in the other, the display lighting the way. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Kevin looked at the gun. “I think it’s over.”

“What?”

“We stopped him.”

“I was coming…I was coming to save you.”

“Oh.” Kevin glanced up the ladder, then back to Walter. “Dylan and I sort of already did that.”

Walter laughed. He sounded wild, frantic as the air rushed out of him. He reached for Kevin and tugged him forward to his chest. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t think so. We locked him in one of his cages. We need to call the cops.”

Walter pulled back, his eyebrows raised.

Yeah, needing the cops was a huge thing for Kevin to admit.

He gave Walter a wry smile. “Time for them to take the credit. Now that we did their jobs for them.”

Walter laughed again. His hold eased up on Kevin. He asked Dylan, “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” Dylan let go of the ladder and staggered sideways. From shock or fear or maybe both.

“Here. Let me help you.” Walter handed Kevin the phone. He settled Dylan’s arm over his shoulders and got him moving.

Kevin stepped aside to let them walk ahead of him.

“No,” Walter said. “Stay in front of us.”

Before Kevin could move, an arm whipped around his chest and hauled him backward. Kevin dropped the phone.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The slurred words were whispered over his ear. “You think I wasn’t prepared for that? Spare key. In my shoe.”

Prescott gripped Kevin tighter and pointed the tip of a long, metal rod at his throat. The end had a sharp point.

The steel rod was like a crowbar. The kind Kevin had seen firefighters carrying. It had a weird name. Like Halogen or Halligan. And why did that matter right then? The only thing that mattered was the very sharp tip nudging his neck, right over his carotid artery.

“You’re mine.”

“No.” Walter stood less than ten feet from them, his body between Prescott and Dylan, his gun aimed at Prescott’s head over Kevin’s shoulder. The light from the phone on the ground lit Walter’s face from underneath and gave him an ominous, sinister presence. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the light. “He’s not yours. Let him go.”

“Never.” Prescott dragged Kevin backward with him behind the ladder, heading farther into the darkness of the tunnel.

Walter followed the movement, step for step, the gun firmly held out in front of him. The light from both the phone and the hole in the tunnel’s ceiling faded the farther they got from the ladder.

“The police are on their way,” Walter said, his gaze never leaving Prescott. “You’re not getting out of here with him.”

Prescott’s hands shook. He spoke to Walter again, his voice sounding beyond enraged. “You’re gonna pay for this.” He came to a stop, holding Kevin against his chest. “I’d rather see him dead than with the likes of you.” The tip of the metal rod dug into Kevin’s skin.

Before he felt any pain, a shot rang out.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“You didn’t hesitate.” Kevin rested the side of his head against the hall wall as Walter unlocked the door to his apartment.

The one-sided silence stretched on. Walter hadn’t spoken so much as one word since they’d left the police station.

“With the gun,” Kevin added. “You didn’t hesitate when it mattered.”

The confrontation with Prescott had been over in a flash. The barest scratch to Kevin’s neck and Walter had fired. A long gasp had followed from both Prescott and Kevin, and then Prescott had collapsed onto the tunnel floor beside him.

“You saved my life.”

Again Walter said nothing. He shoved open the apartment door and entered, leaving Kevin alone in the hall.

Kevin hadn’t expected Walter to be so despondent. Not now that they were safe, that he was no longer a suspect, that they’d located and stopped Prescott, that they’d saved all their lives.

Kevin followed Walter in, shutting the door behind him. He reached the kitchen doorway in time to catch Walter dumping his keys on the table. They scraped across the surface, then clattered to the floor. Next Walter removed his phone and tossed it on the table where the keys had started out. It bounced several times and also dropped to the floor. He’d be lucky if it worked. It had already been through a hell of a lot that day, more than most phones suffered through in their lifetimes.

Maybe the phone’s luck had run out.

Or maybe just Kevin’s luck had. Because Walter sure didn’t seem like he wanted him there in his apartment any longer.

Or maybe he did. Maybe Walter had much more he wanted to say. He met Kevin’s stare, frustration in his eyes. “I cannot believe you went willingly with that maniac.”

Not responding seemed like the best approach. Walter knew why Kevin had done it. He would’ve done the same thing if he’d been the one who hadn’t been handcuffed—the one Prescott had been after.

For a moment Kevin wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d never actually seen Walter this…what? Stressed? Furious?

Then it didn’t matter. The tension was gone from Walter’s face, his posture, the air all around them. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Did he hurt…?” Walter trailed off like he couldn’t say the rest.

“He didn’t hurt me.” Not really. Not like he’d hurt the others.

Walter gave a slow nod. Completely focused on Kevin, he closed the distance between them and slipped his hand into Kevin’s. “I’d really like to wash this day off me. You?”

“God yes.”

Walter led him down the hall and into the bathroom. Kevin raised his shirt over his head while Walter opened the shower door and cranked on the water. When they were both naked, Walter eased them into the shower together. He turned them so the spray rained down on Kevin’s hair and back, then grabbed the soap, lathered up his hands, and ran the sudsy palms over Kevin’s shoulders, along his collarbone, and across his chest, slowly, sensually washing every inch of his body.

The heat of the water and the scent of the soap rose up around them, encasing them in a private cocoon of warmth and repose.

Kevin retrieved the soap and washed Walter in return, running his palms over the warm skin everywhere he could reach. Just when he was ready to ask Walter to turn around so he could wash his back, Walter spoke in a whisper, his gaze locked on Kevin’s chest. “Did he touch you?”

Walter had seen Prescott touching Kevin in the tunnel, holding him, an arm wrapped around his chest. That wasn’t the kind of touching he meant.