Run to Me (14 page)

“What were you doing in my room?”

“I wanted to make sure you were sleeping okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sleeping?”

He had wondered if she knew he was there and just hadn’t mentioned it to him. Apparently, she still trusted him only when she was asleep. The thought depressed him.

“Sometimes you have nightmares. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

A tender expression flashed in her face, so fleeting he figured he’d imagined it.

“I don’t remember the nightmares.”

“Good.”

Dr. Norton had been watching the exchange quietly. Apparently satisfied that they’d explored the subject enough, he stood and patted Shea’s hand. “You’re doing well, young lady. Better than I thought you could have after what you’ve been through. We’ll start the hypnosis tomorrow and hopefully find out some things that will help you.”

Wanting to discuss this new paranoia of Shea’s, Ethan followed the doctor to the door.

“Ethan … wait. I would really like to go out.”

Ethan turned back to her. “Hell, Shea, we’ve already talked about this.”

“But you could come with me.” She looked down at the pants and blouse she wore. “Samara was kind enough to purchase these clothes for me, but I’d like the opportunity to buy my own.”

“No.” The very thought of her being out in the open shot terror clear to his bones.

“Why not?”

“I’ve already told you. It’s too dangerous. Rosemount could have men anywhere.”

“If you believe that, then you can keep me safe.”

“How do I know you’re not going to run from me?”

Her slender body quivered with anger. “So it’s not only Rosemount. You don’t trust me.”

If that kept her inside and safe, she could believe anything she liked. “Is there a reason I should?”

“Is there a reason I should trust you?” she repeated.

“I rescued you … saved your life.”

“How do I know that? All of this could just be a huge fabrication. Everyone could be lying.”

“For what reason?”

“For whatever reason you want.”

Ethan snorted his disgust. “I’m not going to argue about it, Shea. You want to believe we’re keeping you here for our own wicked reasons, that’s your problem, babe, not mine. Either way, you’re not going anywhere. You’re safer here than anywhere else … you go out and there’s no way to guarantee your safety.”

Her mouth set in a mutinous line, she said, “You know, I could just walk out of here on my own. The doors aren’t locked.”

Ethan snorted. “I trust you not to be that stupid. Don’t make me have to lock you in, because I will.”

“Trust is a two-way street.”

“I’m not the one who’s been kidnapping innocent women.”

Like a delicate bloom in the bright blazing sun, she wilted in front of him. The remark had been a direct hit. A low blow she hadn’t deserved. He had no excuse other than his worry that if he let her out of his sight, or if she were out in the open, she could be taken again. That couldn’t happen if she stayed here. Within the confines of these walls, with him, she was safe.

Her expression froze into a mask of blank indifference. “Very well. You’ve made your point.” She turned to look out the window beside the bed. “Please leave.”

Aw shit.
“Shea, dammit …” Blowing out a ragged sigh, he said, “I’ll take you shopping. Okay?”

Whirling around, she gifted him with a genuine smile. The first real one he’d seen from her. She looked like the old Shea. Pretty lips curving up, slender, feminine nose slightly scrunched, beautiful eyes glinting. When Shea smiled, her entire face participated in the event. Ethan’s heart thudded like a stampede of cattle.

“Thank you, Ethan.”

Ethan nodded and stalked toward the door.

“When can we go?”

Without turning, knowing she’d see things he didn’t need her to see, he snapped as he went through the door, “Tomorrow, after your hypnosis session.”

When the door closed behind Ethan, Shea slumped into her chair. Exhaustion beat within her like a caged lion. If she ever let it loose, it would consume her totally. When others were around, she tried to put on a strong, brave front. Deep inside, she felt like a frightened child.

And now, apparently, nightmares and vague memories weren’t her only problems. If the woman she’d thrown milk at was any proof, her flashbacks could endanger others. Strangely, though, her first instinct had been to run and scream instead of attack. Perhaps she was a danger only to herself.

Great, at least I’m not a dangerous lunatic. Just a self-destructive lunatic.

She pulled herself to her feet. No matter how depressing her day had been, Ethan had agreed to take her out for a few hours tomorrow. The thought of leaving the clinic for even a short duration gave her a healthy boost of optimism.

She knew that everyone here wanted to help her and keep her safe. But the longer she stayed and the fewer drugs she had in her system, the more she despised her confinement.

Shea was learning many things about herself, and one of the biggest was a fierce need for independence. To be able to make decisions for herself and be her own person. Rosemount had denied her all these things for the months he’d held her, which made the determination even stronger. She was damn tired of being a victim of her circumstances.

Memories or not, Shea wanted her life and her control back.

Ethan sat in the corner of the darkened room and watched Shea’s slender body sink with boneless grace into the leather recliner. The therapist, Dr. Karen Greyson, spoke to her quietly, drawing her deeper into a hypnotic trance. Even in the dimly lit room he could see a serene expression soften the tension Shea often wore around her mouth and eyes. The constant battle against her memories and nightmares had taken their toll on her youth and vitality, often giving her a pinched, tense look. It physically hurt Ethan to see her suffer day after day, without any relief in sight. Her memories continued to bombard her with teasing reminders of horror and pain, but with no reward of any substantial information.

This would be their third attempt at hypnosis this week. The other two had resulted in nothing other than frustration for them and a blinding migraine for Shea. In an effort to relax and hopefully prevent the agonizing headache, she’d tried yoga prior to today’s session. He hoped like hell they could gain something significant this time.

“Shea, can you hear me?” Dr. Greyson asked.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“At the compound.”

“What do you see?”

Holding his breath, Ethan waited. Her eyes closed, Shea’s brow furrowed as she apparently tried to concentrate on what she was seeing.

“Can you tell me what you see?” the therapist asked again.

“Men … fighting,” Shea said softly.

“Why are they fighting?”

“Training.”

“How many men?”

“Three … no, four fighting … one instructor.”

“Can you describe the men fighting?”

She bit her lip, her brow furrowing deeper. “Young. Late teens … early twenties. They’re terrified. One is crying. The instructor is shouting at him.” Her voice changed, became harsh as she repeated what she heard: “You useless piece of garbage, shut up and fight!”

“Describe the young men … what do they look like?”

“Two white, one black, and one Latino. They’re all tall … but skinny.” Her voice softened. “And so scared.”

“What about the instructor?”

Her slender body shuddered, revulsion flickering across her face. “He is white, medium height, very muscular. His hair is cropped short, it’s blond and gray.”

“What is his name?”

“Sir.”

“What?”

“His name is sir. We have to call him sir.”

“Is he the master, Shea?”

An emphatic shake of her head. “No, he is sir.”

“Okay, leave that room and go to another one.” Dr. Greyson waited a few seconds and then asked, “Are you in another room?”

“No.”

“Where are you?”

“Outside … at the cages.”

Ethan locked eyes with the therapist as she asked, “Cages?”

“Yes. Where we begin our training.” Her voice trembled as she added, “Or we are sent for punishment.”

“What happens in these cages? What kind of punishment?”

“Torture,” Shea whispered.

“What kind of torture?”

She was silent for so long, Ethan began to wonder if she had come out of the hypnosis. Finally she said, “Whatever he thinks will hurt the most.”

“Who, Shea? Who’s in charge of the torture?”

“The master.”

“Is anyone there … in the cages?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Five young men.”

“What are they doing?”

She bit her lip and was silent for a while. Finally, she blew out a sigh and said, “Sleeping … crying … screaming in pain.”

Nausea rose at the picture Shea painted in his mind. What kind of monster was Rosemount? What did he do besides drug his victims to ensure their cooperation?

“Okay. Leave there … go to a room inside the compound.”

Shea blew out a soft sigh, as if relieved to be going somewhere else.

“Where are you now?”

“My bedroom.”

“Do you share this room with anyone?”

“Sometimes.”

“Who do you share it with, Shea?”

“My master.”

Bile rose in Ethan’s throat while fury boiled in his blood. If Shea remembered the abuse, how would this affect her? What she had experienced … been forced to do… . Hell, he’d give his life for her not to remember that horror.

“What happens when he stays with you?”

Ethan cursed, and Dr. Greyson shot him an admonishing frown.

“After my shot, he allows me to bathe. He watches me … sometimes he bathes me himself.”

Another curse formed on Ethan’s lips. He swallowed it back.

“Then he dresses me and we have dinner. He talks to me, tells me things.”

Ethan jerked at this news. What had Rosemount told her? What secrets lay in Shea’s subconscious?

“What does he talk to you about?” the therapist asked.

Shea’s brow furrowed again as she tried to concentrate. Her face went white with strain, and then she breathed out a sigh. “He will kill everyone I love if I tell.”

“No, he won’t. He can’t touch anyone you care about. Tell me what he’s told you.”

Shea’s pretty mouth crimped, as if she’d been told to keep it shut. Her long silence indicated that the information would not be forthcoming. Rosemount had trained Shea to keep his secrets … even under hypnosis.

“Okay, Shea. Let’s try this. Is this master in your room now?”

“Yes … and another man.”

“What does your master look like?”

Furrowing her brow again, Shea tensed her body and then relaxed. “He has my vitamin shot.”

“Who, Shea. Who has your vitamin? Your master?”

“Yes.”

“What does he look like? Look straight at him and describe him.”

“He’s frowning. I’ve angered him.”

“No, he’s not angry, Shea. Tell me what he looks like.”

With her eyes still closed, tears rolled down her face. Her breath turned to pants. “He’s angry. He’s not going to allow me my vitamin shot.”

“Yes, he will, Shea. He will give you the shot, but you must tell me what he looks like.”

Auburn hair swished back and forth, slapped against her face, as she shook her head wildly. Her voice thickened with emotion. “He says I’ve disobeyed him. That I must be punished.”

Wanting nothing more than to go to Shea and ease her agony, Ethan gripped the arms of his chair. He had been warned that this would be difficult, but no matter what, he had to stay silent.

“Okay, Shea. Look at the other man in the room. Can you describe him?”

As she recognized the reprieve, a ragged breath shuddered through her. “He’s very tall. Muscular. Black hair. Blue eyes. He never speaks. He stands in the corner at the master’s order and watches.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Creature. Animal. Trophy.”

“All of those names belong to one man?”

“Yes.”

“What does this man do for the master?”

“Kills.”

The stark, one-word answer sent chills down Ethan’s spine.

Dr. Greyson returned to her earlier questioning. “And the master. What does he look like, Shea? What color is his hair? How tall is he? Describe what you see.”

Her head swung slowly back and forth. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Yes you can, Shea. He can’t harm anyone you care about. He can’t touch you. You must tell me what he looks like.”

“He won’t give me my vitamin shot … he’s going to punish me.”

“No, he—”

She jumped from the leather recliner and fell to her knees. Forehead touching the floor, her voice thick with tears, she begged, “I’ll be good, I promise. Please don’t punish me.”

“Tell me what he—”

“That’s it.” Springing from his chair, Ethan grabbed Shea’s shoulders and glared at the unrelenting therapist. “Damn you, stop it. Can’t you see what you’re doing to her?”

Heartbreaking sobs tore through Shea’s body as she whispered over and over, “I’m sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’m sorry.”

“Shea.” Dr. Greyson’s calm voice interrupted her terror. “You’re fine. When I count to three, you will remember everything you’ve told me, but you will not be afraid. Remember that. You. Will. Not. Be. Afraid.” She paused for half a second. “One. Two. Three.”

Sobs still shuddering through her, Shea pulled away. Opening her eyes, she looked up at the man holding her. “What happened?”

Ethan’s thundercloud expression showed his concern. “Don’t you remember?”

Her temples already beginning an agonizing throbbing, Shea held her head. “I remember coming into this room. I remember you holding my hand and telling me everything would be okay.”

Ethan glared at the therapist. “I thought she was supposed to remember everything.”

The woman shook her head, clearly astounded. “She should have. Whatever drug she was given has apparently prevented the memory.”

Drawing a deep breath, Shea struggled to her feet. She ignored Ethan’s outstretched hand, feeling the need to do this small thing on her own. “Did I give anything helpful?”