Landon (In Safe Hands Book 1) (18 page)

“Let’s
circle the lake first,” Jeremy suggests. “You take right and I’ll go left. If
he’s in the woods, he’s better protected from the sun. If he’s exposed, we need
to find him quick.”

Dare
nods and tosses me a knitted hat. “You stay with me.”

Despite
the damage the sun could be wreaking on Landon, it sure as hell isn’t making it
any warmer. It’s probably the coldest it’s been this year, with the highs
predicted to be around twenty degrees, and while I’m too emotionally numb to
feel it, I know it adds to the danger of the whole situation. We don’t know how
long he’s been out here, if he’s here at all. They could’ve just shut the phone
off here to throw us off and kept driving. He could be anywhere.

Dare
and I make our way along the tree line, calling Landon’s name into the still,
icy air. We pick our way through sticker bushes and climb over fallen logs,
scaring scores of small animals from their early morning sleep. My face is
frozen and wet from the silent tears I can’t control.

A
few minutes after we start the search, I hear an unfamiliar voice calling
Landon’s name as well, and Dare turns to me. “Mason has arranged for some of
his security and bodyguards to help.”

The
more the better, but I can’t help but wonder. “What does he do that he has men
like that at his disposal?”

“He
runs a shelter for victims of domestic abuse. Houses them and protects them
from disgruntled exes.”

It
finally comes clear why he was able to help Colin so quickly. “But not with the
law’s blessing?”

“Not
always. Mason is a powerful guy with a lot of people in high places on his
side.”

“I’m
glad he’s on Landon’s side, then.”

The
longest hour of my life passes and my stomach is one giant knot. The sun has
been up for nearly two hours. I hope Landon is in the woods, in the shade
somewhere, but even then, if he’s hurt and unable to move, hypothermia is a
possibility.

Dare’s
phone rings and he pounces on it, listening for a second before barking, “We’re
on our way!”

His
fingers wrap around my arm. “They found him. He’s alive.”

“Thank
fuck!” I exclaim, my legs working overtime to keep up with Dare’s speedy
strides. It occurs to me he said “he’s alive” not “he’s okay”. “Is he okay?
Where is he? What happened?”

Dare
shakes his head at my rapid fire questioning. “All I know is what I told you.
He’s on the other side of the lake.”

When
we make it back to Dare’s SUV, he floors it back onto the road, circling the
lake at breakneck speed. There’s a small crowd gathered around a large cedar
tree. I recognize Justus and Jeremy, but two more men and a woman block my view
of what they’re looking at.

I’m
out of the SUV before it comes to a complete stop, and Dare’s command to stop
falls on deaf ears. Whatever happened, I need to know. I need to see him.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for the view I’m presented with when Jeremy takes
a step back.

A
rolled up tarp lies at the base of the tree, the outline of a body clearly
discernible. Landon’s dark hair is visible at one end, standing out in all
directions. My legs go weak at the sight, and I see his face in my mind,
laughing when I told him he needed a haircut. That was two days ago. How the
hell did we get here?

I
fall on my knees beside him, in full panic mode and pull back the tarp. “Don’t
do that!” Justus exclaims, and grabs me by the waist, pulling me back a few
feet. Jeremy throws the tarp back over him, but I’ve seen enough.

“We
have to keep the sun off him, Zo,” Justus explains in a soft voice while I
struggle to free myself. “Don’t move the tarp, okay?”

“I
won’t, but it’s too late! You saw him! We’re too late!” I sob.

Landon’s
voice stops my hysterics. It’s faint and sounds like he has a throat full of
sand, but it’s him. “Okay, Zo, baby. I’m here.”

Keeping
my hands locked together to ward off the temptation of lifting the tarp, I sit
beside his head and run my fingers through his hair, the only part of him I can
reach. “I’m here, Landon. Please hold on.”

“An
ambulance is on its way, man,” Jeremy adds. “Do you know who did this?”

“Heather
George. Arlen George’s wife and some speed freak. Knocked me out. Tied me
here.”

My
eyes travel to the tree beside us and the thick ropes at the base. They tied
him to a tree facing the sunrise. Tears begin to pour again. I only got a
glimpse of him, but that’s all I needed to see the big picture. They stripped
him to his boxer briefs, and every inch of skin I saw was an angry red color,
not from the cold, but the sun. They used his disease against him.

“Get
security to watch Colin. She’s crazy. Blames him too. Been following me.”

My
gaze jumps to Dare. “Ethan is with Colin at my house.”

“Call
them. Tell them someone from Striking Back will be there,” an unfamiliar blond
man orders. Dare nods at me, and I comply.

Ethan
answers the phone and agrees to let the security guy in. “Is Landon okay?” he
asks, quietly.

“Yes,
but we’ll be at the hospital for a while. Just stay inside and call 911 if
Colin’s mom shows up there. No matter what Colin thinks, understand?”

“Yeah,
I will.”

The
ambulance shows up just as I hang up. The paramedics have been briefed on his
condition and assure me a light tight room has been arranged once we arrive at
the hospital, and Landon’s dermatologist and immunologist will be there.

They
won’t let me ride in the ambulance with him, so Dare follows it to the
hospital. “Have you ever seen him like this before? How long have you known
him, anyway?” I fire the second question before he can even answer the first.

“I’ve
known Landon since we were kids.” His hand leaves the steering wheel and runs
through his hair. “And I’ve never seen him like this. He was diagnosed really
young. I don’t think he’s ever been in the sun for more than a minute or so.”
It’s clear he’s as worried as I am.

We
arrive at the hospital and Landon is whisked away before I can see him. Dare,
Jeremy, and I are lead to a small waiting room, where we’re joined by Justus
and Mason Reed. Mason approaches me. “Two of my security guys are at your house
and everything is fine. They’ll stay there until the attackers are caught.”

“Thank
you,” I murmur.

He
looks at Dare. “Alex is going to stay here while I go put some things in
motion. We’ll catch the bitch.”

A
few minutes later, I’m introduced to Alex, Mason’s brother, and another member
of Striking Back. I recognize him as the blond from the lake. “They’ll let you
go to him soon,” he says, speaking in a low tone. I’ve never met this man
before today, but he sits beside me and takes my hand.

“How
do you know Landon?”

“He’s
done some hacking for me. I don’t know him well, but my husband, Ian, has
worked with him before.”

A
slim nurse dressed in scrubs steps in and asks for the family of Landon Clark.
“I’m his wife,” I lie, getting to my feet. “How is he?”

“The
doctor is with him now. I can take you to see him.”

As
much as I want to run from the room, I glance around at the four men seated and
eager for news. “What about them?”

“Family
only.”

“They’re
family. Brothers,” I argue.

With
a look of disapproval, the nurse replies, “You can visit two at a time.”

Jeremy
and Justus both nod at Dare, who joins me on the endless walk down the white
sterile hall. “You can’t touch him,” the nurse cautions.

All
the way down the hall, I tell myself that I won’t lose it when I see him, no
matter how bad he looks, I’ll be strong for him. Still, tears fill my eyes as
soon as I walk into his dimly lit room. A sheet is thrown across his groin,
leaving the rest of his body bare. His skin is an angry red, almost purple in
some places, and there’s a gash on the right side of his forehead. The whites
of his eyes match his skin, but those eyes land on me as soon as I enter and a
smile spreads across his face.

“Zoe.
Don’t cry. I’ll be all right. Tell her, Doc.”

The
doctor who is coating his legs in a thick white cream peeks up at me. “He’ll
recover from the burns and dehydration, but you both need to be hypervigilant,
especially for the next few months. Any new growth—even a freckle—or any change
in current freckles or moles need to be checked out immediately to reduce the
chance of skin cancer.”

“What
are the chances that he’ll develop a cancerous growth?” I ask.

The
doctor shakes his head. “I can’t give you a percentage. This is a rare disease
and it acts differently in each patient.”

I
sit beside Landon’s bed, and he reaches to take my hand, carefully because of
the IV running into the back of his hand. “Your hands aren’t burnt?”

“They
were tied behind me,” he replies.

Dare
steps forward. “We’re on her trail, and the asshole with her.”

“She’s
been following me. Bragged about it. Going through my mail. I had a flyer from
the XP convention in Vegas next month. That must be how she found out what I
have.”

Dare
leans close to Landon and murmurs something that sounds like “pig food”.

Landon
shakes his head. “No. Let the cops deal with them. Tell Mason. He’ll make sure
they get the right judge.”

The
doctor seems to turn a deaf ear to their conversation, and I remember that he’s
been Landon’s doctor since he was a child. After slathering Landon’s body in
the cream, he shows him how to hit a button to self-administer a pain med, then
tells him he’ll check back in on him the next day.

“That
ass wants to keep me a week,” Landon complains, but I can see the agony in his
eyes.

“You’re
hurting. Push the button, babe. Get some sleep. We aren’t going anywhere.”

“Don’t
like drugs,” Landon gripes.

Instead
of arguing, Dare marches to the side of the bed and presses the little red
button. “Asshole,” Landon grumbles, but the lines in his face smooth out as he
starts to relax.

“Love
you too, dickhole,” Dare replies, pushing the button again.

Landon’s
eyes flutter closed and his hand goes limp in mine. “Sit on this side of the
bed. You can hit the button for him when he’s too stubborn.” His gaze sweeps
over Landon’s body. “I can’t imagine how much that hurts.”

It’s
the first time I notice how devastated he looks, and I wrap my arms around his
bulky body. He returns the favor and we stand there, holding each other for a
moment. “He’ll be okay,” I whisper.

“Yes,
he will.” He steps back and wipes his face. “I’m going to go make a few calls
and let the other guys come see him.” He leaves, and I take my place in the
chair where I’ll be spending my week. Beside my future husband.

Not
two hours later, Mason’s brother Alex enters, a wide smile on his face. Landon
is still asleep and I hope he stays that way for a while. He’s in too much pain
when he wakes. “We got her. And her meth head partner. Our guy in the police
department assures me they’re both being charged with assault, kidnapping,
attempted murder, and anything else the prosecutor can think of.”

“Did
she say why she did it?” I ask, running my thumb over Landon’s hand. I can’t
seem to let go of him.

“She
knew Landon was the one who called the cops when Colin was brought in for the
suicide attempt. She said it was his fault Arlen killed himself by jumping off
that bridge.” Intense eyes study mine from beneath a mop of blond curls. He
knows the truth and is trying to discern whether I do.

“That
son of a bitch got what was coming to him.”

Nodding,
he hands me my phone. “You left it in the waiting room. Your brother is trying
to reach you. I told him everything is fine. Everyone’s safe.”

“Thank
you, I’ll call him.”

Landon

Ten
days I was stuck in that hospital. Between the agony of feeling like a lit
match was being held to every inch of my body and the mind altering drugs being
pumped into my arm, the first few days are blurry. One thing I remember, every
time I pulled myself from the sludge of unconsciousness and managed to force my
eyes open, Zoe was there. Sometimes with a book in her hand, or her tablet,
sometimes lying on a cot beside me, often just gazing at me with a heartbroken
expression.

I’ve
never felt so loved or cared for in my entire life. I was in and out of
hospitals as a child, but other than a random visit from my mother, I was left
to the care of the doctors and nurses. A chronically sick kid wasn’t going to
put a damper on their travel plans. I didn’t begrudge them, after all, why
should my disease screw up everyone else’s life as well as my own?

I
know Zoe doesn’t see it that way, and though I should probably feel guilty
she’s stuck in a hospital with me when she should be in school or taking care
of her brother, all I feel is gratitude for the way this beautiful, sweet woman
loves me. All of me. Even this damn disease.

A
few days after I leave the hospital, Dare and Jeremy help me move my stuff to
Zoe’s house, our house for now. I really don’t have a lot to take since neither
of us is all that fond of the antiques I inherited from my uncle, so we get the
move completed in one evening.

“So,
all healed up?” Jeremy asks, placing the last box on the living room floor.

“Yep,
except for the shedding.” My skin has been flaking off and I feel like a damn
snake. We change the sheets every morning because so much rubs off in my sleep.
I run my hand down my arm, peeling a long strip off and turn to Dare. “Want
some Landon jerky?”

Dare
shoves me away. “That’s fucking gross.”

“Is
Zoe cooking for Christmas?” Jeremy asks.

“I
don’t know what we’re doing yet. Ethan is going to stay with friends that week,
so we may go away somewhere.” I haven’t broached the subject with Zoe yet, but
I’d like to go somewhere warm, where we can spend the nights outside,
stargazing, or maybe walking along the beach like we did in Panama City.

The
next day, Zoe surprises me with an idea of her own.

As
she approaches me, her face is plastered with the little smile she wears when
she’s trying to get her way. It’s fucking adorable and it works way too often.
In her hand is a brochure advertising the convention for XP sufferers in Las
Vegas. “It’s this weekend. Have you been before?”

She
sits beside me on the couch. “No, I don’t need a support group.”

“It’s
not a support group! It’s a chance to meet other people who have the same
problem and have some fun. They have nighttime activities, plus we can go to
the casinos.”

“Dare
and the guys were hoping we could all get together, that maybe we could talk
you into cooking again like you did on Thanksgiving.”

Grinning,
she opens the brochure. “We’d be back the day before Christmas. We can get
together then, and I’ll make enough food for an army.” Her pleading eyes meet
mine. “You’ve been isolated for a long time. I think this would be good for
you. Don’t you want to know how other people with XP cope, what new
advancements have been made?”

An
idea forms in my brain. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to Vegas and I’ll stop in
the convention, on one condition.”

“No
anal. You’re not fucking me in the ass. The answer is still no.”

Laughing,
I tug her over to me. “Marry me. We’ll find one of those weird Vegas chapels
where you get married by Elvis or an alien or something.”

Who
needs the sun when my future wife smiles like that? “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Frannie
will kill me if she isn’t there,” she murmurs, considering it.

“Do
you want to invite her?”

After
pondering another moment, she shakes her head. “No, I want it to be just us.
Let’s do it.”

She
shivers when I press my lips to her ear to speak. “And I will claim that plump
little ass, Zoe. Someday soon, you’re going to give it me.”

“Don’t
hold your breath waiting for someday.” Her breathy reply holds little
conviction.

Ethan
walks in, interrupting, and we take the opportunity to tell him we’re getting
married in a few days. Like any teenage boy, he isn’t really concerned. He
picks up the brochure and starts laughing.

“What?”
Zoe asks.

“Just
seems like a strange choice of city. Bring all the people who can’t tolerate
sunlight to the desert.”

Landon
laughs. “Kid’s got a point.”

A
few hours after dropping Ethan off at Colin’s house, Zoe and I are on a plane
to Vegas. I’ve arranged for a suite in the same hotel where the XP convention
is being held and we settle in just as the dawn approaches. Zoe is surprised to
see not all of the activities they are holding will be at night, and I grin at
her little scowl. “It’s Vegas, sweetheart. You can go from hotel to casino to
hotel without ever leaving the air conditioning. Anything outdoors will be held
after sundown.”

“There’s
a concert Friday night,” she points out, handing me the itinerary.

“Sorry,
but I have plans for you that night.” My arm wraps around her middle, pulling
her to me in the center of the massive hotel bed.

“Does
it include me being chained to this bed?”

“After
you’re chained to me. The XP foundation also arranged for Frontier Place to
host a night show. It’s a western theme park built in an actual ghost town.
They’ll have gunfights, bank robberies, and jailbreaks. I thought it would be a
fun place for you to pledge your undying loyalty to me.”

Her
eyes widen and I have a moment of pure fear that she’s changed her mind until
she replies, “I’m not promising to obey, and you’ll be pledging your eternal
love for me. And promising to kill all spiders that cross my path.”

“And
you’ll promise to let me love and protect you, always fry me bacon for
breakfast, and give me a nightly blow job.”

“I
think the officiant might have an issue with those vows.”

“Fine.
Weekly blow job.”

Giggling,
she cuddles up to me. “The meet and greet buffet is this afternoon. We’re
going, right?”

I’m
not all that eager to meet others with my condition, but I’m worried about
Zoe’s reaction the most. I’ve seen what this disease can do, especially when it
isn’t diagnosed early. I’ve been extremely lucky not to have any outward
signs—except a few scars from the burn—because my family was well off enough to
get me the best doctors, and to keep me cloistered in one sprawling house or
another.

I’ve
done enough research and the pictures of some of the people who weren’t as
fortunate are heartbreaking. Rough, permanently discolored skin, multiple scars
from skin cancer removals, tumors scattered across their faces. It could easily
be me, and I dread Zoe seeing what our future could be.

“If
you want to.” She yawns and I cuddle her closer. “Let’s get some sleep.”

We
wake up in time to get ready for the buffet. “I can tell you’re dreading this,”
Zoe says, running one of those hair straighteners through her hair. I don’t
know why she bothers, her waves are cute. I gaze at her in the mirror, her ass
clad in tight jeans, a red blouse clinging to her breasts. A small satisfied
grin blooms on her face. “Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make it
out of this room.”

Pressing
my instant hard-on against her ass, I press my lips to her ear. “Fine by me.”

Her
giggle fills the room. “No way. We’re going. You can ravage me later.”

Damn
it.

Her
hand stays wrapped around mine while we ride the elevator down and find the
room where the buffet is being held. It’s large and filled with dining tables,
all set for a meal. A small bar rests in one corner opposite a slightly raised
dance floor. I assume the room is usually used for wedding receptions or
parties, and they probably reserved it for us because there are no windows to
let in the sunlight. My stalling has resulted in us showing up a bit late, so
there are already quite a few people here, milling around, talking, and having
a drink at the tiny bar. Kids run around the dance floor in an impromptu game
of tag while a couple of flustered mothers try to wrangle them.

“Let’s
get a drink,” Zoe says, pulling me towards the bar. While we wait for the
bartender to pour my whiskey double—I’m going to need a buzz for this—and Zoe’s
fruity something or other, a middle aged couple approaches us.

“Hi,
I’m Karen, and this is my husband, Charles. We ‘re the owners of the XP Support
Network and we organized this event.” Karen and Zoe shake hands as I do the
same with Charles. Charles appears around sixty years old, but I’m betting he’s
in his late forties or early fifties. The disease has clearly affected him, but
his eyes are lively and his smile bright as we greet one another.

“I’m
Landon, and this is my fiancé, Zoe.”

“It’s
nice to meet you. I know pretty much everyone who comes to these events, so you
must be a first timer,” Charles says. Zoe is absorbed in conversation with
Karen. I swear she can walk into a room knowing no one and leave with a ton of
friends.

“Yes,
sir. This is my first one.”

Amusement
tilts his lips as he leans forward and drops his voice. “Brought here by a firm
tug on the old ball and chain?”

Laughing,
I relax, and take a seat on the bar stool next to him. “That obvious, huh?”

“What
we do for our women.”

A
boy about five years old, darts up to him.
Dark freckles cover every inch of his
visible skin, and a mass grows in the crevice of his nose and cheek. “Molly
won’t stop chasing me!” he complains, crossing his arms.

Charles
lays a hand on his shoulder and points to a nearby table. “Your mom is right
over there. Why don’t you join her? Looks like she has a piece of cake.”

“Okay!”
The boy darts off and leaps onto his mother’s lap.

“Is
that your son?”

“Grandson.
His name’s David. My son, Jacob, is around here somewhere. Karen and I were
lucky. The pregnancy was an accident, and we knew the odds were on our side—a
twenty-five percent chance he’d be affected—so we couldn’t bear to terminate.
We were overjoyed when we found out he could live a normal life, go to school
and everything. Him being a carrier never even entered our minds until he had
David. His wife had to be a carrier too, and really, what are the odds?”

“Damn,
I’m sorry.”

Charles
shrugs. “We keep things as normal as possible for him. And it could be worse.”
He gestures to a couple eating at a table with three children, one in a high
chair. “The Hanrons had no idea they were both carriers until their oldest
suffered a severe burn about a year ago. Once he was diagnosed, they had the
little ones tested and sure enough, they all have it.”

“Christ,”
I mumble, and order another drink.

This
is another reason I didn’t want to come. It’s fucking depressing. My gaze lands
on Zoe, who is laughing and talking to a little girl hiding behind Karen’s leg.
She’s good with kids. She deserves children of her own and I can’t give that to
her. Even if she was tested and found not to be a carrier, I wouldn’t chance
it. The test could be wrong or there could be another mutation that hasn’t been
discovered. The disease just isn’t understood well enough for me to believe it
if a doctor tells me it won’t happen.

Adoption.
She says she’d be fine with adopting, and I hope that’s true, because I know
now what I have to do. I can’t chance another condom breaking or Zoe’s birth
control failing. I need a vasectomy. I need to know I’ll never pass this on to
another person.

A
woman gestures for Charles from across the room and he gets off the bar stool.
“It was nice to meet you, Landon. Don’t forget about the pool party tomorrow
night.”

“Will
do,” I mumble. Yeah, not happening. My gaze travels around the room and all I
can see are deformities, tumors, bloodshot eyes. Things I may have to look
forward to at some point, no matter how well I take care of myself. I need to
get out of here.

Zoe
makes her way towards me, all smiles, and I throw back the last of my drink,
grab her hand, and practically drag her to the door. “Landon, what’s wrong?”

‘I
can’t be here.” She doesn’t question me until we’re back in our room.

“What
happened?”

“I’m
getting a vasectomy,” I tell her, and her expression goes from confusion to
concern.

She
sits on the couch, but I can’t sit still. Watching me pace like a madman, she
asks, “Did you just come to that decision?”

“I’ve
considered it for years, but…damn, Zo, didn’t you see the kids? Tumors and skin
lesions.” My hands run through my hair, probably adding to the madman effect.