15. Asher
Chapter fifteen
Asher
I t was my fault, I should’ve realized what we were walking into as soon as I got the phone call.
I’d let myself get too absorbed in protecting Dahlia, in making her feel safe, that I hadn’t paid enough attention to the other parts of the investigation.
Why was Curing so hard to find? He was just a man, a software engineer with a fetish for living dolls, he shouldn’t have been able to go to ground so quickly.
But that was where we’d fucked up—where I’d fucked up that was.
I’d underestimated him, just assuming he was a regular guy giving into his baser urges, he was bound to get caught sooner or later.
I hadn’t accounted for the level of intelligence he was displaying and the single-minded determination he would have to get back what he wanted.
He was insecure, deeply flawed, and the taunt by the mayor had likely triggered an escalation in behavior.
We hadn’t expected him to set traps, so he’d gotten the upper hand.
Adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I hurried Dahlia through the halls.
No alarms were going off, but I could see security and police officers on the move, trying not to spook Curing if he was already in the building, which I suspected he was.
We dodged around medical staff and patients, hurrying toward the stairs for the parkade.
I needed to get Dahlia somewhere safe, maybe even outside the city, and then regroup with the team now that Hunter was out of commission.
My jaw clenched, his injuries weighing heavily on my conscience.
He had argued against taking this job, and I should have listened to him.
Now, he would probably never go out in the field again.
Not with the injuries he’d sustained, even with intense physiotherapy.
The best he could hope for was a desk job, maybe teaching, and that would kill him.
His career was over, and it was all my fault.
I kicked open the door to the stairwell, checking inside quickly before ushering Dahlia through.
“We need to go straight to the car,” I told her quietly, still holding her arm as we went down the stairs.
“If anything happens, you run as fast as you can to somewhere public. Find an officer and tell them exactly what’s happening, and have them contact Unit Chief Parsons with the FBI. Repeat that,” I instructed.
“Run, find an officer, unit Chief Parsons,” Dahlia replied, out of breath from how quickly we were moving.
Her eyes were wide, and I hated seeing fear in them again.
I thought this was over, I really did, and now we were back to running.
Once we reached the parkade door, I pushed her up against the wall, holding her there as I peeked out into the parkade.
Rows of cars greeted us, along with an eerie silence.
I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so I nodded, and Dahlia stepped in beside me, staying quiet as we hurried to my car.
I kept my eyes moving, scanning for any movement.
“Asher, look,” Dahlia hissed, pointing at my car. I grimaced, seeing the flattened back tires as well.
“Go, run back inside, now,” I snapped, drawing my gun and pushing her toward the door we’d just come out of.
A noise at my right had me spinning around, and I saw someone duck behind a nearby car.
“Show me your hands!” I shouted, raising my gun.
A shot rang out, and I ducked down, but another shot followed quickly after, catching me right in the chest. I fell back, my head hitting the pavement as I gasped for air, my lungs seizing up from the shock of the bullet against the vest I was wearing.
My vision tunneled for a horrifying moment, and I struggled to stay conscious, willing the air back into my body.
I heard screaming and the sounds of a scuffle nearby, and I recognized Dahlia’s voice.
Forcing past the pain in my chest, I rolled onto my side and pushed myself up, leaning on a nearby car for support.
I heard a car door slam and an engine rev, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears as I looked for Dahlia.
Bright lights turned the corner as a car drove toward me, gathering speed as it approached.
I raised my gun, firing a shot at the vehicle once I spotted the familiar face behind the wheel.
The car didn’t slow down, so I did the dumbest thing I could think of and threw myself in front of it, firing another shot at the driver’s side.
I heard glass splinter just as the car hit me, and I threw my shoulder forward to roll over the hood instead of under the tires.
My body screamed in pain as the vehicle screeched to a stop, and I slid off the hood, landing hard on the pavement.
I gasped for air as my vision went dark and I braced myself for the inevitable as he would likely run over me now.
Instead, I felt hands loop under my shoulders and, suddenly I was moving, someone was dragging me roughly across the ground.
I struggled a bit, and abruptly the hands let go, dropping me to the ground.
I blinked and saw Curing standing over me, my gun in his hand.
He struck out like a viper and everything went dark.
My consciousness flitted in and out, like a camera tried to focus.
I was dimly aware of being in a vehicle, I could feel the vibrations of the road under my cheek.
Pain was radiating across my entire body, and I couldn’t get any of my limbs to respond, so I settled for lying still and listening, trying to pick up on any details I could.
I wasn’t sure when I passed out again, but when I came too for the second time we were no longer moving.
My head lolled on my chest, and I struggled to lift it, my temples pounding with every movement.
It was oddly cold in here, and I blinked my eyes until they cleared.
I looked down at my chest and realized I could see it, which meant someone had taken my shirt and my Kevlar vest off.
There was a large bruise already forming on my sternum where the bullet hit, and without the vest I would’ve been dead for sure, judging from the location.
I shifted and noticed my arms weren’t moving.
I jerked my hands and felt them catch, recognizing the feel of handcuffs on my wrists.
Probably my own handcuffs, I realized with a burst of rage.
I jerked my legs, but they were pinned as well, duct-taped to the legs of the chair I was strapped into.
That fucker. I tested them carefully, but they wouldn’t budge, he probably used half a roll to tie me down, and the chair was metal, so I wouldn’t be able to snap the legs off either.
I looked around the room I was in, which was eerily similar to the room we’d found Dahlia in before.
It was clearly a basement, judging by the windows set higher up, close to the ceiling.
I turned to see what was behind me, and I could feel my skin pulling from the dried blood coating my face.
My jeans were torn in a few places from where the car had hit me, and I just hoped nothing was too severely broken.
A door opened behind me, and I tensed as footsteps approached.
I glared at Curing as he strolled past me, looking completely at ease, which juxtaposed eerily with the unconscious body draped in his arms. At least, I prayed that Dahlia was only unconscious.
Her skin was ashy and her lips blue, probably from the cold since she was only in her underwear.
Her hair was damp, like she’d just had a shower.
Had that fucker actually washed her hair?
! He set her down on the bed on the far wall, adjusting her body with a bizarre fondness that made my stomach lurch.
Once she was settled to his liking, he pulled a contraption out of his back pocket and fastened it around her neck.
It looked too similar to the shock collar he’d fashioned for her before; he must’ve gotten the supplies to make a new one.
Once the collar was in place, he set about attaching a chain to it, the other end fastened to a clip on the ceiling.
I watched him silently, my hands working on the cuffs behind my back as I sized him up.
“There, that should do it,” he mused, looking at the set-up with the satisfaction of someone just finishing a home improvement project.
He finally caught my eye, and his face fell flat, a scowl forming on his lips.
“You nearly ruined everything,” he muttered, looking me up and down with disgust. “Keep your mouth shut, or I might be forced to hurt my little doll here.” He gestured to Dahlia, and I bit my tongue to keep from shouting at him.
His eyes bore into me for a moment, but when I didn’t make a sound he seemed happy enough.
Clapping his hand on my shoulder as he walked past, I heard the door shut behind me, followed by the sound of a lock sliding into place.
I scanned the room as surreptitiously as possible, remembering what we’d found in his last hideout.
Sure enough, I spotted a camera near the ceiling, pointed at the bed that Dahlia was laid out on.
I couldn’t tell from here what its range was, but I didn’t doubt that it would also have a view of my chair.
I would have to factor that into whatever plan I came up with to get us out of here.
For now, I avoided looking at it, letting my body sag in the chair to take some of the pressure off my shoulders.
I couldn’t take a full breath in, thanks to the bullet I took to the chest, and I’d be shocked if I didn’t have a concussion.
I watched Dahlia anxiously, studying the shallow rise and fall of her chest, wondering if he’d drugged her or if she’d been knocked out from a blow to the head like me.
Neither option was good, but at this point very little about any of this could be considered good .
Working on the cuffs helped to focus my mind, and I went over our situation, looking for anything that might help us.
Hunter knew where we’d been headed and he knew Curing was nearby.
When they found my car with the tires slashed, they’d talk to him right away.
If someone heard the gunshots, we’d be on their radar even sooner.
I wondered where my phone had ended up—if Curing was smart, he’d have tossed it at the hospital, but maybe by some lucky chance it was back in his car or somewhere nearby.
We were still in the city, at least from what I could tell, so they wouldn’t need to search very far.
I just had to make sure we stayed alive long enough for them to track us down.
A wave of dizziness washed over me, my head pounding with renewed force as I swayed a little in my chair.
I jerked my hand in the cuffs, hard enough for the metal to bite into my skin, pulling my awareness back into my body.
I couldn’t pass out, I had to stay aware, stay awake.
He could be back at any moment, or Dahlia could wake up, and I didn’t want her to wake up alone in here.
I kept working on the cuffs, repeating my mantra over and over in my head.
Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake...