The Devil’s Pawn (22 page)

A man uncuffs my right hand, pulls it across my body, and recuffs it on the opposite side of the chair back. He then pulls a knife from his pocket and reaches for my side that is now vulnerable. I pull away and toward the side of my body that is secured to the chair, but a man behind me swiftly grabs my shoulders and pins them firmly square with the chair back. I keep struggling, pleading, begging, but it is no use, and as the knife pierces the fabric of my favorite gray dress, he pushes too deep and it gouges into the sensitive skin of my side. I cry out uncontrollably, but he doesn’t care as he pulls the knife up to the armpit of my dress. My entire side from above my waist to my armpit is now exposed, and I can’t move. I can feel a small amount of blood trickling its way down to the waist of my dress, pooling at the wide black belt, but as soon as I see the dropper being pulled from the clear glass container, I forget the cut on my side, and I start to scream.

When the liquid touches the skin of my side, a couple of inches below my armpit, my screams turn desperate and blood curdling. The pain is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. It singes, it burns, it eats at my body, and it is grotesquely unrelenting. I want to die. My screams diminish as my voice fails me. I’m screaming as loud as I can, but no sound is coming out anymore. I want it to be over in a way that would welcome the end of my own life willingly. It is more unbearable than I ever imagined pain could be. I can feel the burning liquid run down my side, but the man is quick to wipe it away, and after watching it eat my skin for many, long torturous seconds, he flushes my side in water, quickly washing away the residue. I’m left gasping and panting, sobbing and cursing, as they continue to rinse my side with cold water.

I feel my consciousness fading with the unrelenting pain. While the cool water offered a moment’s reprieve from the pain as soon as the poison was washed away, the remaining nerves in the burning, deteriorated skin are left in agony to send sharp, painful messages to my brain that I am hurting. My fading mind is left wavering on the edge of sanity. When I fade out, I welcome the darkness, but moments later, I’m brought back to the here and now. I’m being moved, and every time I come to, I’m in some different place—being dragged through the house, being dragged across the dirt lawn, being pushed into the back of the car, and finally slumped against the back seat of the car, framed by two ogre-like men. But they must be taking me home…

I fall into fitful dreams. They are of Derek. I fear for his life in each dream, always interrupted quickly as I come back to consciousness long enough to feel the burning agony in my side. I watch him being tortured. I watch him being hurt, and the very worst one of all, I watch him being shot. He’s kneeling on the floor of my parents’ house, just as they were, and as the gun is raised to his head, he looks to me. I love him, and I’m desperate to tell him before it’s too late, but before I can get the words out, I watch in horror as his head jolts back with the impact of the bullet. His body slumps to the floor with his eyes staring empty at nothing. I awake screaming and flailing about, but I’m being restrained and pulled from the car. I can hear the sounds of the city, and I’m relieved for a moment, until the pain hits again. It has started raining, and I’m dumped like a bag of garbage on the cold, wet concrete of the sidewalk. I don’t even try to rise as unconsciousness takes over my body again. The world goes silent and still.

Chapter 24

“What do you mean acid?” It’s Derek’s voice that I’m hearing, and it is far away.

“It isn’t terribly big, but it was used to torture her, or punish her…” I know this voice, but I can’t immediately place it.

“Ashton could never do anything to deserve this.” This is Liz, and she’s crying.

I’m comfortable and fairly conscious for the first time in a long time. I’m warm in a bed, but I’m groggy and not ready to open my eyes yet. I know the smell of these sheets. I’m in Derek’s bed, and I’m surrounded by his smell. I’m safe. As their conversation continues, I take my time opening my eyes.

“She’s going to be okay, Derek. The burn will heal, and she’s otherwise unharmed. There’s no sign of sexual assault, but she’s in a lot of pain. In fact, it’s likely why she wasn’t conscious when they found her downstairs. This type of burn can cause enormous pain. I’ve given her morphine, and I’ll leave some Vicodin for her to continue to take for a few days.” It’s the doctor. Dr. Michaels. He’s here in Derek’s room.

I hear Derek thank him for coming, and the doctor leaves the room. I continue to listen as Derek questions Liz endlessly about what she saw. She explains the car, she explains the men, she explains their dress, their appearance. She tells him every last detail she can remember. He’s patient with her. He knows she’s as concerned as he is, and as I continue to listen, I hear a new voice.

“Sounds more like the mob than anything else … or at least some organized criminal group.” It’s Frederick, and I listen to Derek agree with him. “She’s carrying a fairly heavy debt. I saw her paperwork once in the office. Something like five million plus to one particular foreign account in the Caymans. It would make sense. If it is an illegal debt she’s being forced to pay, it could very well be going offshore. And you said it’s not even her debt?”

He must be speaking to Derek, and as Derek answers, this is confirmed. “Yeah. It’s her father’s debt. Jesus. She’s been paying off a debt that doesn’t even belong to her to criminals. This can’t be the first time they’ve caught up to her, but she has never been burned before; I’m certain of it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Again it is Frederick. Liz is being quiet, but the frequent sniffling of her nose tells me she’s still very present, and still very worried.

“I know every inch of her body. She has no scars like this.” This comment sends an intimate and incredibly warm flush through my entire body.

Frederick speaks once more. “Well, she’s not paying on a five-million-dollar debt because they asked her nicely. They’ve threatened her in some way in the past. Maybe she wasn’t raped this time, but I’d be willing to guess she has been in the past. They’ve done something to scare her into paying.”

Again, Derek disagrees. “They haven’t raped her. She was a virgin when she got here. I can attest to that, but you’re right … they killed her parents. God, what more threat did she need? She told me she was there when her parents were killed. I’d be willing to bet their deaths were directly related, hell, directly caused by her father’s debt. Fuck!” And at his obvious pain, I slowly start to move.

My body hurts, but the pain is numb and distant. I can feel the burn under my arm, but it is manageable. As my eyes open slowly, I can see them at the dining room table in Derek’s apartment. Only Liz is sitting at the table, and Frederick is standing beside her with his hand on her shoulder. Her hand is on his, and I wonder for the first time what I’m seeing between the two of them, and for how long it might have been going on. Derek is standing adjacent to them at the head of the table, and as I strain to sit up, he spots my movements and rushes to me, quickly closing the space between us.

He sits beside me, and as I manage to sit up, he pulls me to his lap gently, being so careful not to touch my burn. He holds me, my head to his neck, and as I relax into his body, I start to cry in absolute relief. His body is holding me so tightly to his, as though either one of us might evaporate into thin air. I cry softy, but I finally feel safe and secure. His ferocious strength remains, but his gentle touch and demanding grip soothes my soul. I pull from his grip to see his face, and I see his eyes are glassy with well-restrained tears. My God, I love this man. I am so ridiculously in love with him.

Liz reaches us, and he lets me go just enough for me to hug her and reassure her that I’m okay. She’s apologizing and retelling every horrible moment of my abduction from her perspective. I’m heartbroken for her. Whatever guilt she feels is so very misplaced, and I know she endured hell watching me being dragged, kicking and screaming, into a darkened car. She called Derek instantly, and they’ve been going insane ever since. The police were called, but quickly sent their most inexperienced uniformed man to take her statement. I’m not surprised. I’ve been told during nearly every one of my run-ins with the thugs that the police are on their payroll, and not to expect any support from them. As Liz’s story winds down, Derek asks Frederick to make sure Liz gets to her room okay. He’s ready for them to leave, and truth be told, I am too. I’m tired, and my brain is fuzzy and lazy. I want quiet, peace, and Derek.

As he walks them to the door, I roll lazily to my stomach, gazing out at the city. It is mesmerizing in my cloudy state, and the view relaxes my whole body. Derek returns to the bed, drops his clothes on the floor, and climbs in next to me.

He’s close by my body, on his side, and he speaks in a quiet and intimate voice. “I don’t expect you to make love to me tonight, but I want you naked.”

I look over to him with a small smile as I start to wriggle the straps of my nightgown down my shoulders. He helps as I move the loose gown down my body. Once it’s removed and I’m lying naked on my stomach, he leans down to my back and starts kissing gently along my shoulder blade. His hands caress as his mouth trails a line across my shoulder. He’s careful not to get too close to the large bandage on my side. As he trails his fingers over my body, I get warm and wet at his touch. I hope he’ll change his mind about making love to me.

I rest my head on my up-stretched and bent arms as I continue to look at the lights of the city. His kisses keep working over my neck and shoulders, moving down my back to my bottom. I don’t think for a moment to stop him when he kisses trails along the round cheeks. He kisses farther down my legs, over the back of my thighs to the back of my knees that tickle at the touch of his warm mouth. When he reaches my calves, he bends each up to his mouth as he kisses along their length to my heels. I focus on nothing but the lights and the warmth of his mouth. It is so incredibly sensuous. My body is warm and relaxed, and so ready for him. When I roll to face him, his eyes are weary and worried, but he started this seduction. How could he have not thought I’d want to finish it? His touch, his body, relaxes my soul. It is the very reassurance I need to affirm I’m okay; I’m safe at last.

He approaches my mouth and kisses me gently, and I beg. “Please.”

He watches me intently for long seconds as he contemplates. He finally gives me his answer. He moves between my legs and enters me slowly as I moan. I’m in ecstasy. I’m relaxed beyond all measure, thanks in large part to good drugs and a full body kiss-down, and as he slowly penetrates and then withdraws from me, I can barely stand the sensation. Every stroke feels like a mounting orgasm ready to take over my body. Every withdrawal is a reminder I’m not quite ready yet. His thrusts remain slow, gentle, and completely controlled. He’s taking his time and focusing his eyes on mine with every movement of our bodies. His eyes are worried and watch for any sign of my pain, but I’m in heaven at the moment, and there is nothing he could do to my body I wouldn’t accept.

At this slow and even pace, it takes forever for either of us to reach climax, but that isn’t the point, and neither of us is in any rush. Our bodies move together slowly and gently, and it is far more about the intimacy of making love than anything else. This man, once so closed and cold to me, has become the most passionate relationship of my life. When eventually his speed quickens, and I start to meet his thrusts more aggressively, I find my orgasm. But he doesn’t, or won’t. He pulls from me as my body relaxes once again, never claiming his own release. But I want him to, so I reach for his hard, long shaft, and I stroke gently at first, and then vigorously as his panting and gasping quickens. I pull myself to my knees, and as he looks back in worry and hesitation, I mount his hips and push myself down the length of his cock. It’s obvious he’s terrified of hurting me, but his body is also sensitized and barely controlled. He watches me rise and push back down over him, and he sits to face me and pulls my legs to straddle him. He flexes his hips into my body as I roll mine to meet him, and it goes on endlessly in this way. Our movements are so gentle and slow it could last forever, but as his breath starts to halt and falter, I can tell his body is growing weary of the torment. I quicken and intensify the movement of my hips. When he eventually comes, he buries his head in my neck and clutches my body closely to him.

He leans to kiss my mouth, and as he pulls away, he asks me to talk. He wants to know everything I can tell him about the men that took me. My secret.

My body is exhausted, but I’m ready to talk to him. And I tell him the truth. I give him every detail. Some memories are filled with tears and sadness; others are filled with anger and horror. But I hold nothing back. He’s guessed everything there is to know, and now I just fill in the details. The tight muscles of his face and the intense furrow of his brow tell me it’s painful for him to listen to my hardest memories—watching my parents die, the many beatings since then, the events of this day, still so fresh and filled with terror and tears. I tell him, too, about Mr. Grayson’s involvement in their activities, and at this information, his jaw tenses and clenches, and he is fighting his own rage, powerfully stifling it. I don’t know how to fix this mess I’m in, but at least the secret is out now. For whatever that means, it at least gives me a sense of relief.

After long hours of talking, my medicine is fading, and when Derek returns with a couple of Vicodin, I wash them down with a glass of water. I’m anxious for the medicine to work, as the burning and scalding pain of my injury is building with every passing minute. He must sense this because he pulls me into his arms and lets me be silent as the pain makes my feet fidget and my body tense. But within a short time, the numbness takes over again, and my eyes become groggy and heavy.

As I drift off, I speak the words I so desperately wanted to tell him in my nightmares earlier. “I love you, Derek.”

He says nothing at all. His body is tense, and were I sober enough to think straight, I’m sure I’d be horribly wounded at his silence. I am wounded, but sleep is approaching fast, and I won’t be able to stave it off much longer. When I finally give in to it and feel it carrying me away, I hear his breath escape in a deep sigh. His lips brush a gentle kiss on my forehead, and my sinking mind drifts away in confusion, and a touch of heartbreak.