Run to Me (34 page)

A ring box.

Her heart thudded in an unnatural rhythm. Shea closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness attacked. And in that instant she saw him. In that instant she knew him. And she knew what had happened.

“Marry me, Shea. I know you don’t love me. And you know Jill was my life. But we could be there for each other. That baby you’re carrying needs a father. Ethan might not be able to handle fatherhood, but I can.”

She had been pregnant? With Ethan’s baby.

Frantically, her hands went to her abdomen. What had happened to the child? Her fingers drifted over her flat stomach. She’d seen herself in the mirror, and there had been no indication that she’d once had a baby. No looseness of skin, stretch marks, incisions … nothing. The only explanation was that she’d lost the child. Another sob built up inside her at the loss of a baby she hadn’t remembered.

Her vision blurred from tears, Shea opened the ring box. A beautiful diamond solitaire rested inside, glistening with promise and hope that had never panned out. She clicked the box closed and dropped it back into the box. An envelope holding legal-looking documents caught her attention. Her breath hitched as the answer to another question was exposed. She and Cole had not had a happy marriage.

Dropping the document back inside the box, Shea stood, exhausted and worn out. She had to get out of here. Every time she opened a box, either more questions arose or another heartache was revealed. The strain of trying to force her memories had drained her. She checked her watch. Five hours and counting. She’d go back to the motel and rest for a while. Then she’d come back and face the remainder.

Her cellphone jingled in her pocket. As she pulled it out, her heart leaped. Ethan? He was one of the few who knew her cell number. She looked at the readout.
Unknown caller.

“Hello?”

“You’ve been a bad, bad kitty.”

Panic ripped her insides. How had he gotten her number? Very few knew it. None of them would have willingly given it to him. Her legs shaking, Shea dropped to the dusty floor.

Deep inside she already knew, but she had to ask. “How did you get my number?”

“All in good time, little cat.” His voice changed with exaggerated concern. “First of all, how are you doing? How are those pesky memory lapses? Still having migraines? Still waking up at night screaming about demons and monsters?”

“You bastard, tell me how you got this number.”

“My, my. You’ve become a sassy bitch, haven’t you? We’ll just have to work that out of you again.”

Her heart stuttering in her chest, panic set in. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth.
Focus, Shea.
“Where are you?”

“I’m close, my dear, very close. And I have a present for you. I’m sending you a picture right now.”

A soft beep sounded. Shea pulled the phone from her ear and pressed a key to view the picture. A naked man was tied hand and foot to a wall. Horror slammed her senses.
Ethan!

“As you can see, he’s a bit out of it now. But I’ll make sure he wakes up when you get here.”

Shea stood, her spine stiff with determination. “What do you want me to do?”

An eerily familiar giggle caused her to shudder in revulsion. “That’s more like it. I want you to go to slot 127 at Killian Bay. There’s a small red-and-white speedboat docked there. I want you to get on it.”

“If I do, what happens to Ethan?”

“I’ll let him go, of course. You’re the only one I want. Don’t you know that? I love you.”

“How do I know you’ll let him go?”

“You’ll just have to trust me. But you can be assured that if you don’t come, he will die. I can guarantee that.” He paused for a moment. “Want to see a demonstration of what I’ll do to him if you don’t come?”

“No. No. I’m coming. Just give me a few—”

“You’ve got fifteen minutes. If you’re not here by then, you can forget ever seeing your golden hero again.”

“Give me twenty. I can’t—”

“You now have fourteen minutes. Stop wasting my time. Oh, one more thing. Once this call is over, your cellphone will be unusable. Just a little insurance that you won’t be calling for help.”

“But I—”

“Thirteen and counting.” Rosemount huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Apparently you don’t care for Mr. Bishop as much as I thought.”

“I’m coming. I’ll be there. Just—”

The phone went dead. Shea pressed the On button again. No signal. True to his promise, Rosemount had somehow disabled her phone. Shea dropped it back into her pocket. In a flurry of activity, she set to work. Fortunately, she remembered where the bay was and could get there in less than ten minutes. She needed to use the remaining time to prepare for what lay ahead.

Somehow the bastard had captured Ethan. How and when didn’t matter. Returning to that devil terrified her; losing Ethan scared her far more. This time, she would be prepared. This time, Rosemount would not win!

An earthquake was erupting in Ethan’s head. Holy hell, it’d been years since he’d hurt this much. His eyes blurred from pain, he blinked and squinted, tried to focus. Twisting slightly to turn his head … he found he couldn’t. Pain became secondary as the need to determine what the hell had happened became paramount.

Moving his arms and legs proved as futile as moving his head. Either he was paralyzed or in some sort of contraption that prevented any kind of movement. Since every particle of his body hurt, he was pretty sure it was the second theory, which was a relief. At least he knew that all he had to do was escape. The optimistic thought surprised him. That sounded more like Shea.

Shea.
Memory returned, and with it fury and horrendous guilt. How stupid they’d all been.

Adrenaline pumped with no place to go. Ethan closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on what he could remember.

After leaving his phone on the car, per Rosemount’s orders, he’d driven to the warehouse. Gun in hand, knife in his back pocket, and another gun in an ankle holster, he’d felt reasonably prepared. He hadn’t spotted his tail, and the place looked deserted. The second he stepped out of the car, men poured from the warehouse. Carrying AK-47s and wearing the cold, soulless expression of trained killers, they surrounded him. Ethan dropped his gun to the pavement and held his hands up. Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, they gave way, allowing a man to walk between them.

Despite the anger surging through him, a loud guffaw of laughter erupted at his first sighting of Donald Rosemount. A pipsqueak. With one hand, he could throw the shrimp across the parking lot like a football. And he’d fooled them all.

His chances of getting to Rosemount before he got his head blown off? Not good. All five men had their guns pointed straight to his head. Five head shots? Hell, it’d only take one to blow his brains out.

He threw a cocky grin at Rosemount. “Either your guys have heard of me or you’re overcompensating for a tiny, shriveled—”

The hard-edged butt of a gun slammed into his head, cutting off the rest of his insult. Ethan remembered falling face-first onto the ground; then, instead of shooting him, which he would have greatly preferred, the men took turns kicking the shit out of him. He was at the edge of consciousness when Rosemount yelled, “Stop!”

Two men held guns against his head as Rosemount leaned over him. “I don’t want you dead, Mr. Bishop. I just want you.” Then he’d let loose a giggle, which scared Ethan a hell of a lot more than the guns. The guy was certifiable.

And then a needle was injected into his neck and he knew nothing more.

With his head in a vise, he could see only what was directly in front of him and in his peripheral vision. Concrete walls and floor. No windows. A basement or storm cellar? He was so screwed.

The door in front of him opened. A warm swath of air caressed his skin, and for the first time Ethan realized that he was stark naked. Well, hell, that couldn’t be a good thing.

Donald Rosemount and another man entered. The one he didn’t know was taller than Rosemount, a little older. His expressionless face showed only cold disassociation. There’d be no getting help from this man.

Rosemount’s eyes glinted with a supreme smugness. The creep thought he had him exactly where he wanted him. Ethan swallowed a laugh—what was he thinking? He
did
have him exactly where he wanted.

The other man came closer, his gaze shifting nervously to the ties at Ethan’s hands. “You’re sure he can’t get loose?”

Rosemount huffed a disgusted breath as he drew closer to Ethan. “He can barely move a muscle, much less get loose. You’re safe.” A wide smile spread across his face. “Welcome to my humble little home, Mr. Bishop. I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long.”

Ethan replied with a flippant arrogance, “Oh yeah? You should’ve said something sooner. I would’ve hightailed it down here to meet you.”

“I do love a man with a sense of humor. It gives me a certain kind of thrill when I get to observe its total destruction.”

Ethan snorted. “You’re an awfully brave man around tied-up people, Rosemount. Why don’t you untie me and let’s see how big your balls really are.”

Rosemount’s beaky nose scrunched up in distaste. “Now, that’s just gross. After all the work I’ve done getting one of the best plastic surgeons in the world to come and take a look at you.”

Ethan stiffened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Simply that I can’t have you working for me, looking like that.” He pointed to Ethan’s scarred face. “I can barely even look at you. Dr. Bromead is going to fix you for me.”

“Thanks but no thanks to the job offer. And I don’t want to be fixed.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the work, and physical perfection is a must.” Rosemount’s eyes roamed up and down Ethan’s nude body. “The rest of you—with the exception of the scars on your leg and side—is … well, let’s just say I’m not disappointed. You’re exactly how I pictured you. Like a big, golden lion, ferocious and bold, just begging to be tamed. But those hideous scars must be repaired. I can’t allow you to stay with me unless you’re perfect everywhere.”

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

A sly smile slid up Rosemount’s thin lips. “You’ll soon change your tune.” He turned to the doctor. “What do you think, Wally?”

Ethan had been so focused on Rosemount, he hadn’t paid attention to the doctor, who had been staring at him as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

“The scars on his leg and side are easy fixes. But the one on his face.” He shook his head. “I can make it better, but I can’t get rid of it completely. It’s too old, too deep.”

“Are you sure?” Rosemount sounded like an ill-tempered five-year-old.

“I’m sorry, Donald. I know you wanted him perfect. I can make the scar less noticeable, but it’ll still be there.”

“No, he’s got to be smooth. Flawless.”

“It’s not possible.”

Laughter built inside Ethan and burst forth like a geyser. How ironic. The scar he’d kept on his face as a reminder of his past sins was actually going to save him from becoming one of Rosemount’s zombies. This was priceless.

“Shut up.” Rosemount glared at Ethan. “Do you think since I can’t have you fixed you’re just going to be set free?”

“We had an agreement.”

“Ah yes, a trade of sorts. He’s waiting right outside the door. Shall I bring him in?” Rosemount walked to the door and opened it. “Come in.”

Fury unlike anything he’d ever experienced swamped Ethan as he stared at the tall, muscular man marching through the door. Smoke-blue eyes, glazed and lifeless, stared at him without any hint of recognition or emotion. Though he looked stronger and more powerful than Ethan remembered, the lines etched around his eyes and mouth belied his lack of emotion. The man had suffered, greatly.

Barely able to form words, Ethan growled between clenched teeth, “You’re a fucking dead man, Rosemount.”

Rosemount blew out a dramatic sigh. “Here I thought bringing two old friends together in a reunion would be something you’d appreciate. All three of us have something in common. We’ve all enjoyed the same woman. Why, I even let him watch us together. Very open-minded of me, don’t you think?”

Ethan locked his jaw to avoid a response. The sick freak only wanted to rile him.

After a slight huff of disappointment, Rosemount turned toward the door. “I’m going to leave your friend with you for a while so you can revisit old times. Don’t be too hard on him, though. He’s not allowed to talk unless I ask him a direct question. And he has almost no cognitive thought, other than what I’ve given him. You’ll have to carry the conversation.” Before walking out the door, he turned back to Ethan and grinned. “On the bright side, he’s an excellent listener.”

Ethan ignored Rosemount’s exit as he looked at the man he’d once called friend. How in God’s name had this happened, and how was he going to get him out alive? Rosemount wasn’t going to just let him go.

Could he understand anything? Comprehend what had happened to him? If these were the same drugs the bastard had used on Shea, not only wouldn’t he recognize Ethan, he might well see him as his enemy.

How the hell could Ethan get through to him?

The big golden-haired man tied to the wall must have angered the master. Dried blood and bruises covered his face and torso. The scar on his cheek stood out like a white stripe against his battered face.

The man began to talk softly and slowly to him. “I am so damned sorry. We thought you were dead.” His mouth twisted slightly. “Guess it won’t do any good to ask if you recognize me?”

He moved closer. Recognize him? No, he didn’t. The man looked distraught. Tears pooled in his eyes, rolled down his face.

After a deep, ragged breath, the man said, “Your name is Cole Mathison. You’re an LCR operative. You have a wife, Shea. Do you remember Shea?”

Why did the man continue to talk to him? No one ever talked to him other than the master. He wasn’t allowed to answer back—not that he would know what to say. What were the master’s plans for this man? Would he want his neck snapped as he had so many others?

He knew he’d done something to displease the master. What or how, he didn’t know. But he did know that he’d been punished. He had a vague remembrance of searing pain in his back. He was allowed outside for only a few hours each day, for training. And if the master came by, he had to hide. The master didn’t want to see him. Today was the first time in weeks the master had asked for his help. If he pleased him, perhaps he wouldn’t be punished again.