Saving the Seal 2: A BWWM Navy Seal Interracial Romance (20 page)

Genny sobbed, and Owen felt his stomach twist in acute horror. Even though his knee was most likely in pieces, and the pain threatened to steal his consciousness, he grit his teeth, refusing to give Kant the pleasure of seeing him black out. “I will do
whatever
you want,” He ground out, the veins in his neck standing out in sharp relief, “I swear to God. Just don’t hurt her.”

Kant appeared to consider for a moment, tapping the knife methodically against Genny’s neck. Then, slowly, a cruel smile split his face. “I
want
you to watch me hurt her.” With that, he placed the blade just above Genevieve’s ear, at the exact site of the scar on Owen’s face. “Let’s make you twins, shall we?”

He cut.

Genny screamed.

Blood flowed.

An enraged roar ripped from Owen as he attempted to stand. Though he bore the chair’s weight easily enough, his injured leg immediately crumpled beneath him. His bound legs twisted around one another and he hit the ground, hard, on his ruined leg.

The pain was enough to make colors burst to life before his vision and he groaned in agony.

Kant laughed. The son of a bitch actually
laughed
.

Owen lie on the floor beneath the chair he was taped to, trying to draw breath. After a long moment, he managed to straighten into a seated position, the chair on its side behind him. The awkward position twisted his arm into an impossible angle and he grunted at the additional discomfort.

In a trice, Kant had the gun pointed at him again. “Stay right there. You
stay
right there, Lieutenant.” Owen could have screamed in frustration. This bastard was
sick.
“I’m not finished yet.”

Genevieve moaned his name and Owen flinched. He could do nothing. Kant was going to slice her up and he could do nothing but watch. When the SEAL didn’t move, Kant smirked, setting the gun on his thigh before turning back to a trembling Genevieve. This time, the knife rested on her thigh. A thigh that Owen had kissed and caressed enough to memorize every dimple and line. “I know this hurts, Owen. And as much as it hurts, it’s nowhere
near
the pain you’ve caused me. What you’ve
taken
from me.”

He was absolutely out of his mind.

The knife disappeared again and Genevieve’s shriek made Owen buck involuntarily against the carpet, a low, helpless sound escaping him. Genevieve looked directly at him, pleading wordlessly for help. Her face was bloodstained, her entire body shaking like a leaf.

“You
bastard
.” Owen croaked, incensed. “You fucking
bastard
.”

He didn’t know how long the torture continued. Jonas would lecture him, demeaning him for “acting superior”, for believing that he was some kind of saint, for thinking that he could actually
protect
anyone. He could talk for five minutes or twenty, but eventually, he always cut.

And Genevieve always screamed. Until Owen could hear nothing else.

Owen wished he were dead. He wished
Genny
were dead so the son of a bitch couldn’t hurt her anymore. He was taking his time. Though what he did to the young woman hurt, her injuries were still superficial. He was just toying with her.

It seemed like an eternity passed before Kant finally fell silent. His hands and the bedsheets were stained with Genevieve’s blood, and Owen wanted to kill him more powerfully than he’d ever wanted to kill anyone. The woman he loved had been reduced to a quivering, sobbing figure at their tormentor’s mercy, and every soft hitch of her breath tore him apart.

“Well, as wonderful as this has been.” Kant was breathing hard. What he did wasn’t difficult, but it was clear that the sight of so much blood excited him. “We have to wrap things up. My ride will be here soon.”

At his words, Owen’s gaze darted to the clock next to the bed. It was ten minutes until ten.

The car meant to take Kant home would arrive soon. If he could somehow stall until then, maybe they could get some help.

Kant rose from the bed, wiping his hands on his pants. Still holding his gun firmly, he crossed the bedroom to the dresser to trade the bloodstained butterfly knife for the baton. Owen knew intimately the weight and balance of the weapon. It could kill a man with one well-placed blow. Wielding the baton in one hand and the gun in the other, he returned to Genevieve’s side.

Jonas looked up at Owen with a lopsided smile. “Pick a number between one and ten.”

Owen merely glared at him, his knee throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “Come now, lieutenant. I’m asking for only the tiniest bit of assistance. You can help me end the poor doctor’s suffering. So let’s hear it. Pick a number, any number.” He raised the gun pointedly, “A bullet, quick and painless,” before displaying the baton just as heartlessly, “Or the baton? Messy. Not as quick.”

Owen wanted to use both of them on the bastard until he was nothing but a bloody pulp.

But maybe this could give him an opportunity to stall.

Pointing the gun at the ceiling, Jonas fired two quick rounds in succession. Owen and Genny both jerked in shock. “I’ll give you to the count of five.” Kant threatened silkily. “One.”

His heart in his throat, Owen locked eyes with Genny. Terrified tears were streaking down her bloodied cheeks. “Two.”

This couldn’t be it. It
couldn’t
be. “Three.”

Goddamn it.
Goddamn it!
“Four.”

At that precise moment, Owen caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He froze, his gaze jerking over to the mirror above the dresser, in which he could see a reflection of the hall beyond. He might have imagined it, but he’d caught a glimpse of a thick, muscled arm just beyond the doorway.

Was he imagining things? Fuck.
Fuck
. “Five.” Kant cocked the gun, pulling another bullet into the chamber. “A
number
, Owen.”

What happened next occurred almost too fast for Owen to register.

Sean’s burly frame suddenly filled the doorway and he fired two precise shots. The first hit Kant dead center in the abdomen and he jerked, half-turning as he fired the gun reflexively. The bullet caught Sean in his shoulder and he grunted at the impact, placing the next shot between Jonas’ eyes.

The young man dropped like a stone, the twenty two thudding to the floor beside him.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

Owen blinked, still in disbelief at what had happened. “Owen?” Sean’s voice was thick with pain. Setting his gun down, he straightened, clutching his shoulder. “You alright?”

“Genevieve.” The SEAL managed, wincing as his knee was jarred. “Get Genevieve.”

Sean rushed to her side, immediately reaching to undo the tape that bound her hands. “Genny.” He hoisted her upright, blood smearing over his upper half. “Genny, speak to me.”

The young woman sobbed, an anguished sound escaping her. She rose from the bed, stumbling once before she broke from Sean’s grip to hurry across the room. She was limping, Owen noticed, and he cursed Jonas’ dead body.

“Owen…” Genny dropped to her knees, reaching for his face as she took in his ruined knee. “Owen, are you ok?”

Was
he
OK? A long gash ran from Genny’s ear to just below her jaw on the right side of her face. Her thigh had been laid open almost to the bone and she had several other wounds from the butterfly knife, all of which were bleeding profusely. “Genevieve.” He wrapped his one free arm around her, holding her flush against him. “Fucking
God
, Genevieve. I love you. I
love
you.”

His lover clung to him, and he trembled, remembering how close he had come to losing her.

A loud knock echoed through the house and all three of them looked towards the hallway. It was ten o’clock on the dot, and Jonas’ ride had arrived.

Thankfully, he wasn’t around to take advantage of it.

**

Genevieve didn’t think she’d ever been in so much physical pain in her life. She didn’t know what had been worse, feeling Owen cutting her, or watching him do it. When Sean answered the door to admit Jonas’ chauffer, the man took one look at the bleeding captain and Eddie’s bloodied form in the hallway and called nine one one.

The authorities arrived within ten minutes, and all three of them were shuffled into an ambulance. From her position in the bed next to Owen, Genevieve looked over at him. She knew he had to be in a world of pain. The paramedic tending to him was looking at his knee with a grave expression and her lover was gritting his teeth.

As another paramedic pressed gauze to the wound on her thigh, she bit back a cry of pain, reaching reflexively for Owen’s hand. When she found it, his fingers wrapped tightly around hers and she looked into his eyes, knowing she was crying but unable to stop the tears.

What had happened to them was no less than a nightmare. Something she knew would haunt her dreams for God knew how long.

She had known she was going to die. She had been terrified Owen would die too. In the bedroom, suddenly everything in the entire world had seemed meaningless when pitted against the life of the man she loved.

“Genny, don’t think about it. Don’t think about the pain.” Owen’s words were low and tight and a choked laugh escaped her. How on earth could he say that to her when he was obviously in agony himself? From a stretcher near the door, Sean eyed both of them, seemingly amused despite his own injury.

“Owen, I am
not
a SEAL.” She managed, wincing every time the rushing ambulance crested a bump in the road. “I’m going to scream. It
hurts
.” As if to demonstrate, she cried out as the paramedic attempted to start cleaning the wound on her thigh. In response, her lover only gripped her fingers more tightly, until the pressure of his hand blotted out the pain.

“
Look
at me, Genny.” He demanded.

And she did. His green eyes were filled with pride, relief, and unadulterated adoration. Adoration for
her
. “I love you. You’re going to be alight.”

A choked sob escaped her. “I love you too.” That was the third time he’d said it in the past half hour.

“And I love everybody.” Sean groaned from his stretcher, wincing as a third paramedic cut away at his shirt around the sight of his wound. “Fucking ask her already.”

The ambulance bounced again and Genevieve bit back a shriek. “Ask me what?” She could barely get the words out through her gritted teeth.

“Fuck asking.” Owen hissed as his paramedic covered his ruined knee lightly with gauze. “Genny, we’re getting married.”

The psychiatrist’s mouth fell open as her heart leapt. They were…was he
asking
…The world seemed to brighten around her as elation seeped through every part of her body, momentarily banishing her pain. “I…Ok.” She finally whispered, tasting the salt of her own tears.

Owen’s returning smile was immense and she couldn’t help but laugh, in spite of everything. “Can we go back to Pensacola?”

Sean groaned. “Can I get some anesthetic, please? The strongest cocktail you have.”

“Shut up, Sean.” Owen barked. But, his smile wouldn’t quit. It was the smile that Genny had fallen in love with. The smile that warmed her heart even when the world was falling apart around her. “Genny,” He murmured lowly, his tone meant for her ears alone, “I promise I’ll always protect you.
Always
.”

The young woman nodded, her vision blurry with moisture. “Sounds good to me.”

Epilogue

One year later

When the Skype ringtone sounded, Genevieve was in the middle of a passage on OCD. She jumped, turning to face her computer with an accusatory frown. No matter how many times she heard the sound, it always spooked her. Bookmarking her place in the text she was reading, she clicked the answer button on the computer screen.

It took a second for the picture to focus, but once it passed, Owen appeared, grinning at her. Even though she had just spoken to him yesterday, Genevieve felt her heart skip a beat. The man was the most gorgeous thing
alive
. Even though she missed all his long hair, she had to admit that the military buzz suited the strong lines of his face. “Hey, Gen. You busy?”

The psychiatrist rolled her eyes, unable to hide her good-natured smile. “I’m
always
busy, Owen.”

“Well, take a break.” He demanded. “Doesn’t the high and mighty Psychiatry Department Head
have a minute to spare for her husband?”

Genny stuck her tongue out at him teasingly. “For you, I might have ten minutes. But no more.”

“I’m flattered.” Even eight thousand miles couldn’t take the snark out of the man’s tone. “How’s it going, babe?”

Genevieve groaned. “I’m dying. I’m supposed to be presenting the board with the new funding plans for the department and I can’t stop fidgeting. I’m nervous as hell.”