BLYSS (Blyss Trilogy #1) (5 page)

“Nick, calm down, man. Yes, she’s been looked after. I’ve been up all night taking care of her. It was close to one in the morning when one of the boys called me en route to the facility. He gave me a heads up about what transpired so we could have medical on standby. I had Jared meet me here before they even got her through the door.” Travis’ voice held a calm assurance, placating Nick, steering him away from his growing anger. I hear the men shuffling around beside me as the man with the rich baritone voice, Travis, continues to speak, inching his way closer to me.

“Jared left me everything I need; all her meds are right here beside her and labeled to help her stay as comfortable as possible. I’ve kept her medicated through the night.”

“What else did they do to her? I don’t even want to begin to imagine the things I
can’t
see,” Nick says with agitation mixed with anger.

I hear a package crinkling beside my head, then I feel a cooling sensation snaking its way through my veins. At this point, I don’t care what they’re giving me as long as it puts me out of my misery.

“The guys told me she put up one hell of a fight before they could put her out. They slammed her head around like a tetherball. She’s got a nice goose egg on the back of her head to prove it.”

I hear the man, Nick, curse under his breath, but I can’t make out what he says.
 

“The second they brought her into the clinic, I had Jared examine her, start an IV, and a regimen of pain meds. I wanted to be prepared for any scenario by having the IV available, especially since we didn’t know the extent of her injuries.” Travis pauses, but then continues with disgust and a hint of ire lacing his voice, “Other than the fact her windpipe was damn near crushed, she’ll be black and blue for a bit. She was pretty shook up last night, but she will be all right. I wound up sleeping on the sofa last night anyway to make sure there were no complications.”
 

I hear more items being shifted around on the surface beside me. It’s interesting to hear about my kidnapping and the aftermath being told from a stranger’s perspective. I am relieved to hear I have no broken bones, and better yet, an unbroken skull. I’m even more fascinated and curious as to why these men seem to be doting over me, and the calm one who spent the night here to make sure I was going to be okay. I’m left perplexed.

“I was pretty pissed last night, Nick. I came close to snapping the bastard’s neck.” I can hear Travis inhale a large breath then exhale slowly in an effort to calm himself down. I can feel his tension whirling around me. “I have the full report on who did what, but I figured before I snapped any necks, you’d want to decide their fate.”

I’d hate to piss this man off. The tone of his words seem to hold serious promise, like he snaps necks every day and doesn’t blink an eye. He sounds so ruthless and cutthroat, and my heart rate speeds up, wondering how merciless he will be with me if I don’t walk his line
. How can he sound so soft and calm one second, and then turn his emotions around on a dime, portraying a callous, brutal killer the next?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

“Damn right, I want to handle this personally. The bastard’s mine,” Nick says with seething disdain. “This one here…she’s a special one. They knew she was to be handled with kid gloves. It’s inexcusable; they had strict orders, someone messed up, and now they’re going to pay.”
 

I don’t get why these guys are so pissed; they are, after all, criminals. In all the movies I’ve seen and all the books I’ve read, this isn’t typical bad-guy behavior. Willing to risk a sneak peek, I’m more curious to see who these men are. Slowly, I begin to squint my eyes, willing them to open.
 

I discover the room is dimly lit, which is a huge blessing for my headache. A large shadow shifts in my peripheral vision, and I’m suddenly aware of a strong, male scent wafting around me. His leather and soap smell seems to put me at ease.

I become aware of the fact that I’m lying on top of a soft, comfortable bed and snuggled under a warm, fluffy cloud of a comforter. A soft pillow is cradling the back of my bruised head. I thought when people are captured, they are supposed to get beat up then wake in a cold, dank room on a concrete floor behind a locked door. Not that I’m complaining by any means.
 

The edge of the mattress begins to dip down beside me. I feel a cool, large hand covering my forehead, checking for a temperature. His touch is gentle and feels nice, which makes me believe I’m still partly-drugged. These were the bad guys, after all.

“She feels a little warm and clammy,” Travis’ rich tone sounds out above me. His voice is a security blanket for me, wrapping its warmth around me, providing a sense of protection even though I am their captive.

His one hand then slides down to the side of my face, cradling my cheek, carefully touching me as if I’m a piece of fine china. I don’t get it; why should he care? Who steals young women from inside the very safety of their home, ripping them away from the only family they’ve ever known? They are animals! I’m growing angry, and I want a look at these perps to call them out of a lineup. Opening my eyes further, a fuzzy silhouette of a large man comes into view.

“Hey there, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.” He sounds so warmhearted and compassionate as his thumb gently begins caressing my cheek in a soft stroke.

Deciding not to fight the tender touch, I sink further into the pillow, allowing myself a moment of selfish comfort. I can’t deny that for some strange reason, he seems to have a calming effect on all my senses. I let the feel of his touch spread warmth throughout my battered body, distracting me from the aches and pains.

Now that my eyes have fully adjusted to the dim light, I manage to shift my head in his direction, which is a big mistake. Throbbing pain takes over, and drums begin beating against my head. Immediately, I feel both of his hands cupping my face, gently caressing my cheeks with his thumbs using feather-light strokes.

“Ssshh, don’t try to move,” he whispers. “Just relax and let the pain meds take hold, sweetheart.”

Oh, my God, I’d consider having a headache every day if I could hear this man call me sweetheart. Like a camera lens coming into focus, I now have a clear picture of the man before me. In my skewed vision, I can tell he is good-looking. His hair is dark brown and cut short but with enough hair to run one’s fingers through. The look is sexy.

No, he can’t be sexy. He kidnapped you in the middle of the night,
I tell myself.
 

Well, not him exactly,
the other part of me argues as Travis leans down only inches from my face and meets my gaze with his. His sparkling green eyes take my breath away, and an audible gasp escapes between my dry lips. Oh, God, how embarrassing. Maybe I can play it off as if it was my sore throat.

He doesn’t respond to my gasp; maybe he didn’t hear it. One could only hope. It would be pretty creepy to perv on a criminal. His lips form a hard line and his eyes stay locked in place, intensely studying me as if I’m a mystery. It’s a little unnerving. After a few seconds, his expression changes and he gives me a weak smile.

“I’m sorry they were so rough on you, sweetheart,” he says with deep concern in his eyes. “I just gave you some medicine that will take care of your head, reduce the swelling, and help you rest. You’ve had a pretty rough night.”

Why is he calling me sweetheart? And why is he being so nice? Still very confused and full of hazy feelings due to the drugs still wreaking havoc on my body, his voice seems to be a soothing comfort. I open my mouth to speak, and immediately two of his fingers lay over my lips, preventing me from talking.
 

“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head at me. “Don’t try to speak right now. Sleep this off, yeah?”

I have too many questions to try to sleep this off, yeah?
is what I want to say. Being taken by strange men and waking in a strange place with no answers is beginning to upset me. I feel him stroking the side of my head gently with his thumb, trying to keep me calm. His soft touch seems to be distracting me for the moment, and not to mention it feels good. I guess I should be thankful they are being nice criminals and not evil ones. Of course, I’m sure that could change at the drop of a hat. I know it’s foolish for me to want to rely on him for receiving true comfort and care. I don’t know if all his displays of affection are hiding his true bad-guy persona.
 

“Travis, I want you to stay with her for a while longer. Continue to monitor her; you seem to be keeping her calm. In the meantime, I’ve got business to tend to. We’ll meet back up later today to discuss her arrangements.” I’m so wrapped up in Travis I’d forgotten the other man is still here.

Travis turns his head, breaking eye contact, nodding his head in agreement at Nick. “No problem, man, I got this.” I watch the muscles flexing in Travis’ neck as he turns his head toward Nick. My eyes, for some reason, stay glued to this man. I hear Nick moving through the room, then the sound of the door shutting behind him. When Travis shifts his gaze back to me, he knows I’ve been staring. He lifts one eyebrow, and one side of his mouth turns up. I feel myself beginning to blush, so I shift my gaze to his chest.
Oh, crap, that’s no better.
Before I make an absolute mess of myself, Travis clears his throat.

“Your lips look very dry. You must be thirsty.” It was a statement, and he was not asking if I wanted a drink. He didn’t give me a choice. I find a straw resting on my lips in an instant. “Take small sips for me.” I am thirsty; plus, he insists. Who am I to say no?
Oh, my God, what is wrong with me?

“That-a-girl.” When I’m finished drinking, he puts the water down on the nightstand beside us and for a second fiddles with something I can’t turn my head to see. When he brings his hand back toward me, he’s holding a Q-tip between his fingers. My eyes must squint in question because he explains, “Your lips are dry and cracked. I’m just putting some salve on them.”

His eyes transfix me as he concentrates on my lips, carefully applying the salve. My word, the simple touch of what he’s doing to my lips seems suddenly intimate. His close proximity has distracted me to the point I almost forget I’m in pain. When he pulls the Q-tip away, I mash my lips together, rubbing the ointment in.

He grins at me. “Better, yeah?”
 

It’s my undoing.
Oh, hell yeah, it’s better.
I grin back. “Thank you.”
What the hell?
I want to smack myself in the back of my own head; perhaps I’ve had brain damage, because I feel I’m no longer right in the head. I’ve been hijacked, and I’m thanking him. Am I nuts?

Travis looks as if he’s deep in thought, and I watch his beautiful virescent eyes glimmer in the light above. I’m beginning to feel a tad dizzy, and I can’t decide if it’s from the pain medicine or the effect Travis is having on me with his handsome face, close proximity, and caring demeanor.

I reach my hand out, searching for his, and gently grasp it. I can’t decide the real reason why I touch him; maybe it’s that he’s providing me comfort in such a dark and scary time. For some unexplainable reason, he makes me feel safe, and I’ve only known him for half an hour. It also might be the fact they didn’t want me hurt, and they care in their own sick and twisted way. I feel so spellbound by Travis. I don’t need any medicine or drugs; this man seems to be a drug himself, in a whole other class of his own, putting the pharmacy business to shame. My mind’s perception of pain seems to be quelled easily by his voice and tender touches alone. He’s the perfect distraction to a horrible night.

“How are you feeling now? Is the pain medicine starting to kick in?”

“Oooh, yeeeaaah,” I say, drawing out my words long and slow.
 

He chuckles at my response. “Get some more rest. I’m going to stay here for a while to make sure you’re sleeping comfortably before I leave.”
Leave? I don’t want him to leave.
Instinctively, I grip his hand a little tighter, keeping him hostage with me. He must get my message; misery loves company.

He pats the top of my hand gently. “Don’t worry; I’ll stay right by your side until you fall asleep, okay?” He leans forward and kisses my forehead, his tender lips lingering on my skin. I feel my pain easing away from the kiss of his lips, along with my mental faculties. I’ve been so immersed in my pain and this man’s ministrations I keep losing focus on the who, what, where, and why of my abduction predicament.

This should not be the normal response to a hostage situation. Maybe they’ve drugged me with something else. Who the hell knows? I know it’s dangerous to paint Travis in a different light, but I can’t help but think he cares in some bizarre way. I’m sure I’m in the first phase of dealing with this traumatic experience, which is denial.
 

Confused and exhausted about everything and anything, I quit fighting the drugs. My eyes grow heavy, and I feel Travis caressing my hand he’s still holding. The medicine begins to take hold as my eyes flutter closed. I sink deeper into the pillow with comforting thoughts of the man keeping watch over me. I welcome the escape, knowing when I wake up again my life will never be the same.

~Travis~

Sitting by her side, unmoving for the next half-hour, I watch her fade into a deep sleep. She looks so peaceful laying there, breathing softly. I’m just glad her windpipe isn’t damaged. I have been up half the night taking care of her. Every whimper that comes out of her mouth, I find myself bolting from the sofa, rushing to be by her side to check on her. She never wakes up since she’s drugged, but her body still screams with pain and anguish in her sleep. Hell, it’s going to be a long day; I can feel it. The lack of sleep will only add to my irritable mood. I am still pissed over the fact our men had roughed her up; they could have handled the entire situation differently. I shake my head in disgust, thinking that sometimes the smartest of men could be so stupid.