Chapter Twenty-Three
Caroline
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THE MINUTES HAD PASSED like hours since he’d been gone, the hours stretching into long, vacuum-filled voids that felt like days.
I’d left the bed as soon as the hotel’s doctor had said it was sensible, the warmth of its covers no longer comforting without my master’s body.
All that reprieve had bought me, though, was the liberty of pacing the carpet of the no-doubt expensive suite, while trying not to overthink Adam’s plight.
Where was he? What was happening? Was he okay?
And all the while, the bag we’d dragged around since Zurich called to me, goading with its simple answers.
I could take the gun and use some of the money to bribe the officer outside my door, but what would I do with the newfound freedom?
There was nowhere I could go and nothing more I could do to help him.
For the next few hours, Adam would have to get by without me.
Why did I agree to the ICC’s ridiculous plan? Closing my eyes, I fought back the looming tears. Why did I let him go?
Once again, I was struck by the laughable notion that I could actually stop Harper from doing anything.
He might have discarded his uniform for me on the Carla, but he was still my commander general, whatever he wore.
The truth was, the power dynamic in our relationship was far more equal than it had once been, but without him, I was lost and lonely, as though I needed his strong arms and soft voice to control and hypnotize me.
The empty space he left behind was deafening, its silence threatening to suck me under, even without the stress of worrying what the odious Jackson was up to.
A gentle knock at the suite’s door garnered my attention, and rising from one of the plush seats, I strode to open it.
“Judge Akari?” I hadn’t been expecting any visits, let alone one from the Japanese judge. “What’s happened? Is he okay?”
“He is okay,” she reassured me. “I came to see how you’re doing, Caroline. I know you have not been much involved in the negotiations, but rest assured, the ICC recognizes and appreciates your testimony. Listening to the voice of victims is one of the most significant parts of my job.”
“Right.” I didn’t know what to make of that little speech.
I considered telling her that I hadn’t offered her, Meyer, or Laurent any personal testimony, having only spoken to Kaspar and the Swiss police, but there didn’t seem to be any point.
She and the other officials held all the cards as far as my future was concerned.
The officer on duty outside my door twenty-four hours a day was proof alone of that, and if, God forbid, the worst happened, I’d need their support more than ever.
“Would you like to come in?”
In the end, the awkwardness of having her hover there on the threshold of the room demanded I make the offer, and I guessed the idea of company for a while might quell my rising disquiet at ‘not knowing’.
“Thank you.” She smiled when I held the door open for her, slipping past me into the expansive suite. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Mr. Harper was most worried about you earlier.”
“Yes.” I managed a small smile at the thought. His concerns were further evidence of how much he loved me, and with the weight of his absence bearing down on me, I clung to that sentiment more than ever. “I feel okay now. Just tired.” And worried.
I didn’t articulate the final words, though surely, she could read them in my expression.
“Yes...” She paused, as though there was more she wanted to say. “I was unsure if it was wise to mention this, but Mr. Harper’s current predicament is being televised.” Her focus flitted to the enormous flat-screen television at the far end of the suite.
“What?” Adrenaline flooded my system.
The notion that his arrival back onto the Traditional Values might be filmed for the sake of Jackson’s massive ego had been bandied, but I hadn’t realized that meant every moment of the ordeal would be.
“Does that mean I can watch him?” My tone was excited, though even as I asked, I sensed I might not want to know the answer.
I’d met Jackson, had ‘enjoyed’ the pleasure of his twisted company and sick decisions.
Watching things he wanted to do to the man I loved as revenge for taking me out of the country offered the relief of knowing Harper was alive, but simultaneously threatened the onslaught of having to see what he was enduring. It was quite the double-edged sword.
“Yes.” Her reticence suggested my apprehension was well-founded. “But I warn that, for you especially, it will not be easy viewing.”
Forcing myself to inhale, I wandered toward the remote control on the sleek coffee table. “What is he making Adam do?”
However awful the answer was, I needed to know. I’d be there for him once Laurent brought him back to me, but forewarned was forearmed. I’d be in a better place to help with the full information.
Briefly, I contemplated how unhappy he would have been if he’d known I was watching his suffering, but I pushed that thought away.
Harper had been privy to many of my lowest moments.
That was how he’d been able to offer such succor in the face of their adversities.
If Akari could find a way to stream his tribulations into the suite, I would be strong enough to hold his hand through the turbulent aftermath.
After everything we’d been through together, he deserved that much.
“He had to climb up the outside of the ship,” Akari began, “and there was an incident with Kaspar.” She hesitated, her near-perfect brow creasing. “It was distressing.”
“Oh, God.” I knew only too well the kinds of distressing things Jackson liked to project onto others, particularly women. “Is she okay?”
“She has been taken somewhere.”
Akari grimaced, and for the first time since she’d arrived at my door, I contemplated the idea that she might have been the one to come to me for comfort.
I was so used to seeing her, Meyer, and the others as those in control of proceedings that I hadn’t recognized the signs of her dismay until that moment.
Standing there, though, her bloodshot eyes and fatigued visage were obvious.
I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed them before.
“We don’t know where,” Akari concluded as she slumped into one of the nearby chairs. “I fear we should have listened to Mr. Harper’s warnings and made her stay behind. It isn’t safe for a woman there. Those men are so wicked.”
No shit.
“But Laurent’s plan will save her, right?” I pressed, knowing I needed the French military to do more than only protect Kaspar.
Harper was on that ship, at the behest of a sadistic prick, as we stood there discussing it all. The French had to act to save them both.
“Yes.” She straightened, and I sensed the smile on her face was more forced than she would have liked. “Laurent reports the French are in position. They should be blocking the British flotilla now.”
“Thank God.” The knot of contracted fear in my belly eased a fraction. “So, can we get this channel, then?” I thrust the remote in her direction. “I assume so, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it to me.”
“Are you sure you want to see what it has to show?” She took the remote control from me, her expression doing little to offer encouragement.
“No.” I chuckled dismally at my honesty. “But I’d prefer to know than not.”
She nodded, pressing her lips together as she flicked on the huge screen and pressed the appropriate numbers into the remote. I held my breath when the screen went black, unable to take in more air as the picture flashed into life before us.
There, in the center of the vast screen, was Harper.
Relief bounded through me at the sight of him; to know for sure that he was on the ship, and he was alive, but I swore my heart stopped altogether as I took in the strain written on his face.
I’d never seen him look that way before.
Not when he’d been arrested, and not even in the hospital when he’d first woken up after almost dying.
If he’d felt panicked during those times, he’d managed to project a steely demeanor of calm.
That sense of surety in the face of adversity was one of his many superpowers.
In Jackson’s clutches, though, that had clearly changed.
His frown dissolved in real time, morphing into an obvious expression of pain. The lack of sound coming from the television and the close-up camera angle meant I couldn’t ascertain what was causing the hurt, but it was there, screaming in his expressive eyes.
“Turn it up,” I barked, aware that I was being rude, yet too concerned by his image to care.
My heart rate picked up as the volume rose, but initially, there was nothing to hear except Harper’s panting breaths. Then, as though my worst nightmares had come back to taunt me, it was Jackson’s voice that splintered the silence of the suite.
“You deserve worse than this, Adam.”
The self-styled president’s tone was predictably imperious, but it was the unfolding scene that disturbed me more. I gripped the edge of the seat beside me as the camera drew away to reveal Harper’s plight, my mouth drying at what I saw.
Stripped from the waist up, Harper’s muscular arms were bound above his head, tied to what looked like a wooden rafter of sorts.
He was on his knees, a position I knew would not enthrall him, but worse, as the camera panned to take in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle of him, I took in the bloodied lashes already carved into his broad back and shoulders.
“Oh, God.” My free hand rose to cover my mouth at the sickening sight. “Look what they’ve done to him!”
“Shall I switch it off?” Akari asked, her gaze darting between me and the screen.
“No!” I shouted, drawing nearer to the screen as though there was some way I could intervene in the barbaric display.