Hero (23 page)

I call out for her. I enlist all of my senses, but her scent is faint, and the mansion is quiet. Norman comes running when I yell for him as I race through her room to check the bathroom and try her window. “Cataline’s not in here or the library. Where the fuck is she?”

Norman cocks his head and looks around the bedroom. “Don’t worry. She has to be somewhere.”

I scan his face a second and say, “She’s not here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” I say. “Where is she? Pull up the security footage.” Norman’s face is frozen in shock until I yell, “
Now.
” As he sprints away, I push the palms of both hands into my forehead.
Think, think, think
. Unfamiliar panic suffuses my system.

I enter the basement just as Norman is pulling up the video. “Here.” He points at the screen. “When Michael took out the trash, she fled through the back door.”

“What time was that?”

He looks up at me. “Right after I saw her.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rub my hands over my face and kick a steel cabinet. “Goddamn it.
Goddamn it
. How did this happen?”

“Master Parish, please. We’ll find her. She can’t have gotten that far on foot.”

“And if someone else finds her first?”

“You’re afraid she’ll give you up?”

My brain won’t register his question.

“If it’s the Cartel you’re worried about, how would they know where to find her?” he asks, shaking his head. “No, you’ll get to her first.”

“They’re looking for anything to use against me. Which direction did she go?” I ask.

He purses his lips. “The forest.”

“Any idea why they want you?

“Who?” I ask.

“The Cartel.”

“The Cartel wants me?” I gulp through my chattering teeth but say, “I think you have the wrong person.”

“I sure as hell hope not. Doubt there are two girls running around the woods named Cataline. How’d you get out here?”

My brain works in overdrive, trying to connect the dots between Guy Fowler, Calvin, and the Riviera Cartel.

“Hey,” he says, “I asked you a question.”

I am oddly protective of my time at the mansion. Though part of me wants to spill every dark secret about the last few months, the thought of exposing Calvin and the truth to these guys keeps me quiet. “Leave me alone, asshole.”

He snorts and looks back at me. “Are your nipples that hard because you’re turned on?”

I instinctively cover my breasts. “No. It’s because I’m freezing. Maybe if you gave me your sweater, I’d believe you were trying to help me.”

“Then I’ll be cold.”

“Give it to her,” the other man says. “If she freezes to death . . .” He shrugs.

“Give her yours then.”

“No.”

I would shudder, but I’m already shaking, so I look at my swollen feet as they eat the forest floor. I’m trying to keep up, but the pain makes me limp. “I can’t walk anymore. Can we stop?”

“Sorry. The quicker we deliver you, the better.”

I frown. “I’m serious. I can’t walk another step.”

He sighs and stops because I do. Before I know what’s happening, he links an arm around my waist and hoists me to his side so I’m dangling by my stomach.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Said you couldn’t walk.”

He ignores my objections and continues on. I stop my squirming when I realize his body warmth is helping.

Any conversation the men have as we walk is in Spanish. My stomach is beginning to ache from the position I’m in when without warning, we come to an abrupt stop. I look up as best I can and see the lower half of a man’s body in front of us.

“Yeah?” someone asks. “What do you want?”

My heart stutters at Calvin’s voice. “You have something of mine.”

Images of what he’ll do to me for this flood my mind. “No,” I whisper.

“Put her down.”

I hit the ground hard and look up. Calvin is a black shadow, looming feet away in the moonlight. His gun is raised at the man who was holding me. There’s rage in every part of his body; it’s so extreme that it seems to radiate in waves of heat.

The man furthest from me gestures wildly. “Is this about the reward? ‘Cause we can make a deal for the girl—”

Calvin charges forward and shoves him to the ground. He puts the gun to the man’s head but looks at us when he asks, “Who sent you?”

“I-I don’t know, man.”

Calvin pulls the trigger. He charges for us next, and I’m screaming from the earsplitting gunshot but nothing is coming out. Even my vocal chords are frozen in fear. I cower, looking up at him from my hands and knees.

“See what you got yourself into?” Of all the anger he’s shown me, this rage is the hottest. “Do you have any idea what these guys want with you?”

My shoulders quake as sobs break from my chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, bowing my forehead to the dead leaves underneath me.

“After they rape and torture you for fun, they’ll dump your half-dead body at the landfill. Is that what you want? Answer me, goddamn it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say brokenly, unable to lift my head.

The ground seems to vibrate with his bellowing voice. “Why the fuck am I out in the middle of the night saving you when I could be home in bed? When you don’t even want me here? I should let them have you.”

I’m bawling now, mashing my forehead into the dirt as saliva dribbles down my chin, mixing with salty tears.

“Man, we can split the money, no problem.”

Calvin raises his gun, and the guy’s hands fly up.

“Or you can have it all. Take her.”

“Who sent you?” Calvin asks.

“The Cartel.”

“Who specifically? Carlos Riviera?”

“I don’t know, swear to God. Some guy approached a group of us in the East Side a few hours ago. Said the girl’s in the woods, and there’s ten grand for whoever brings her back alive. Alls I know is he had Riv ink. Said just find her, then he’ll come to us.”

Calvin crouches next to me. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I choke out.

“I didn’t,” the guy says.

“I’m going to kill you either way. I’m just trying to decide if I should let her ass-fuck you with a tree branch first.”

“No,” I wail. “I don’t care. Just let me go. Leave me here. I promise, I won’t report either of you.”

Calvin scowls. “You’d freeze to death before you got anywhere.”

The cold click of a gun hammer registers somewhere in my fuzzy mind. I look up just as a shot rings through the air. I scream, my hands flying over my ears as Calvin jerks and falls next to me. It’s in slow motion that he looks down at the bullet in his shoulder and back at the man. Where relief should be in my heart is pure fear; not the fear Calvin inspires in me, but a base, guttural fear that he’s going to die. Another shot hits his chest, and the night is suddenly silent. Calvin’s cold eyes darken as he stands and brushes himself off. He advances without another moment’s hesitation.

Calvin catches the man by his shirt collar before he makes it two steps and slams him into the ground. I watch, broken screams trapped in my throat, as he hits him across the face. His blows come with sickening thuds, over and over. I’m too close; blood sprays into the air like fireworks each time Calvin’s fist smashes the man’s face. Eventually, his head falls back, and he goes limp. Calvin checks his pulse and after a moment, stands upright.

“No,” I whisper. Freedom dies before my eyes. I could taste it. I could feel it, but with each advancing step, Calvin slowly sucks it from me through the coldness in his glare. Blood covers the hand that reaches out for me. “No,” I shriek, crawling backward. “Don’t take me back there.”

Calvin’s hands grasp my hips to hoist me over his big shoulder. A delirious terror consumes me, and I fight him with everything I have as he walks us back the way I came. I beat his back with my fists, attempting to get to his chest, aiming for his bullet wounds, but he doesn’t slow. All I can do is hang from his body, screaming, kicking, and thrashing until eventually, everything mercifully fades to black.

———

I jolt back to life when a door slams. I’m weightless, supported by strong arms as the mansion forms around me. My cheek is against a bare shoulder, and Calvin’s smell invades my world. I’m swimming in a dark, long-sleeved shirt. Memories flood me faster than I can keep up as we cross the foyer.

My fight is gone. It’s better that way. It’s apparent now that I will lose. I will always lose. My tangible escape is dust in my hands.

Calvin is barking orders, and familiar Norman rushes around the corner to meet us. “Oh, you poor child,” he says.

“She’s been in a fucking nightgown for half the night.”

Even Calvin’s warmth hasn’t lessened my shivering, which comes with some numbness and a dull headache.

In my room, Calvin sets me on my feet next to the bed, and I instantly yelp, clinging to him to hold myself up.

“What is it?” He picks me up again and seats me on the bed’s edge. Crouching down, he takes my ankle to look at the sole of one foot. “Jesus Christ, Cataline. Running around in the woods with no shoes? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t care,” I say through chattering teeth. “I’m cold.”

“This needs to be tended to,” he says. He turns his head over his shoulder. “Don’t just stand there, Norman. Get your things.”

Norman jumps as though broken from a trance and disappears from the room. Being alone with him, a Calvin whose rage I cannot fathom, my lips automatically recite a breathy prayer. I’ve disobeyed in the worst way, and all I can think is that he’ll kill me for this.

“You need to calm down,” Calvin says as he studies my feet. I pull his shirt closer around me, watching his brows furrow.

When Norman reappears and I exhale with relief, Calvin glances up at me. He accepts a cotton ball from Norman and brushes it over my soles, all the while muttering to himself. Even though his grip on my ankle is strong, he cleans me carefully. With tweezers, he pinches at my skin, removing all the things embedded there. I grit my teeth against the stinging, holding the pain inside. His eyes flash up to mine when he’s finished, and he spreads gooey Neosporin over my skin. “Brave girl,” he says.

I open my mouth for Norman to take my temperature. They clean up, putting medical supplies back into what looks like a toolbox. Norman plucks the thermometer out and announces that my temperature is high.

“Give her something,” Calvin says, lifting me from the bedspread. After dragging back the covers, he inserts me between the sheets. I can only watch his face sharpen with determination as he tucks me in.

I take two pills from Norman and swallow them gratefully with a full glass of water. “Thank you, Norman,” I say.

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

“What?” I gasp. “No. Please.” I fix pleading eyes on him, ignoring Calvin’s glare. “You can’t leave us alone.”

Norman looks uneasily at Calvin.

“He’ll hurt me,” I whisper. “He’ll hurt me for running. You don’t understand.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Calvin says. “Turn off the lights on your way out, Norman.”

“Master, she’s not well enough—”

“Out.”

With a comforting smile in my direction, Norman dims the lights. He exits the room, closing the door behind him. When I look back at Calvin, he’s standing next to the bed, untying the drawstring of his pants.

“Oh, God. No,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “I c-c-can’t, Calvin, please, don’t make me.”

“Cataline—”

My face buries in my icy hands. “I’m so sorry I ran. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m so cold.”

“Sparrow, shut up and take off your shirt.”

I do as I’m told, inhaling erratically and pulling my arms through the sleeves slowly.

“Your nightgown too,” he says, followed by a deep sigh. As soon as I discard it on the floor, the sheets lift. Calvin’s naked body melds around mine from behind.

He hushes me as I pry at his arms in vain. “You’re still shivering. Let me warm you.” Distrust screams in my head, but my body sinks deeper into him.

“You killed them,” I say against the pillow. “And they shot you. You should be dead.”

“Quiet. Go to sleep.”

His embrace thaws me quickly. I stop fighting and let warmth replace the fear I should have of being wrapped in the arms of my enemy.