Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
August 18 th
4:15 P.M.
All the color drained from Becca’s face.
Her knees buckled.
Connor snapped out an arm to catch her before she hit the ground.
She hung limply in his grasp for a moment as shock rampaged through her body, but his girl was too strong to stay down for long. In the aftermath of her assault, Connor had quickly realized that the soft, sweet girl he’d always known had a spine of steel, one he wouldn't have immediately assumed she possessed.
But she did.
In the darkest of times, her strength had shone through, blinding everyone who came into contact with her, amazing them all, leaving them in awe of the tiny woman who refused to be knocked down and stay down.
When she lifted her head to look up at him there was grief swimming in her midnight blue eyes. Grief that had the potential to drown her if she let it. All Connor could do was pray that she wouldn't. That she would fight through this like she’d fought twelve years ago and come out victorious.
Then he wanted to lock her away someplace where nothing could ever hurt her again. Because as much as he admired her strength and determination, he hated that she had to fight through pain and trauma just to survive.
“Izzy is … dead?” Becca asked, her voice breaking on that last word.
Part of him wished he could tell her yes.
In a lot of ways, death could be easier to deal with.
It was final, it had a clearly defined definition.
What had happened was not.
“I spoke to the leader of the village and the leader of the military unit deployed here,” he told her. Once he’d put his weapons down and walked into the village, explaining who he was and what had happened, the first thing he’d done was ask about the death toll and Becca’s best friend. As much as he didn't want to say this, he didn't have a choice. She had to know. “Honey, Bella is gone.”
“Can I see her body? I just … I need to say goodbye.”
When Becca went to pull out of his embrace, he gripped her biceps, holding her in place. “No, Becca. There is no body.”
“I … don’t understand. You said she was gone.” Those big blue eyes of hers stared up at him so full of confusion he wished he could wipe it away without shattering her heart in the process.
“She’s gone, Becca, but she’s not dead. She was taken.”
Becca gulped. “Taken?”
“Some of the villagers witnessed her being manhandled into the back of a jeep and taken away,” he explained.
“She was … kidnapped?”
From the tone of her voice, Becca knew exactly what that meant for a young, attractive woman in any part of the world, but especially there.
Isabella hadn't just been abducted, she’d been trafficked.
There was not a doubt in his mind that the poor woman was already out of the country or deep in the clutches of someone who would sell her to the highest bidder and not lose a moment’s sleep over it.
“Yeah, honey. I'm so sorry. Apparently, she fought hard. Witnesses said she was swinging and screaming, and managed to get a few hits in, but in the end, she was knocked unconscious, loaded up, and taken away.”
“Taken away,” Becca echoed, her voice faint. But then it came back with a vengeance, and she struggled against his hold. “We have to find her. They probably took her to the same camp where we were being held. We left her behind, Connor. We should have checked the camp before leaving. We have to get back there. We have to. We have to find her before it’s too late.”
Telling her it was already too late would be cruel even if deep down she already knew it. Becca wasn't ready to acknowledge that reality just yet.
There was one thing he could put her mind at ease about though.
“Listen to me, Becca. She wasn't at the camp. If she was there … if she was there we would have seen her, the men would have been using her.”
“Using her,” Becca repeated, tears forming in her eyes. “You mean raping her.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“If you don’t think she’s at the camp then where is she?”
“It’s been more than forty-eight hours, she could be anywhere.”
“Anywhere,” Becca echoed again like she was his shadow. “Then maybe she is at the camp. We should go back there, Connor. Maybe they’re still there. Maybe they don’t know about the police and the military. Maybe she is at the camp.”
“I’ll give directions to the police and military so they can check out the camp, but she’s not there, honey.”
“You can't know that, Connor,” she shrieked, her voice cracking with despair, anger, and grief. “She could be. Let me go.” She fought against his hold, but he tightened his grip as much as he dared without outright hurting her. “I want to look for her.”
“There’s nothing you can do for her,” he said gently.
“There has to be. I have to try, have to do something. She’s my best friend. I love her like a sister. She’s always been there for me. Always. I won't leave her behind, I have to find her.”
Finishing with a sob, Becca collapsed against him, grabbing onto fistfuls of his T-shirt as she wept. Hating that there was no way for him to take this pain from her, Connor did the only thing he could. Wrapped her up in his arms and held her.
Eventually, her cries diminished, and she rested heavily against him.
Not willing to let her go while she was allowing him to hold her, Connor rubbed small circles on her back. “As soon as we talk to the cops and give our statements, I’ll call Prey. I’ll tell them everything we have on Isabella, and they’ll look for her. I’m not giving up on her, Becca. We’re not giving up on her.”
It didn’t matter what the odds were they’d search for Isabella with every resource Prey had. Becca needed closure and even if he had to deliver the news to her that her best friend was dead, he’d bring it to her.
“Okay,” she whispered wearily.
There was one more thing they needed to address. One he was pretty sure Becca was going to fight him on.
“You heard the man at the camp, Becca. They targeted your village because of me, because they knew hurting you would hurt me, and that threatening you was an effective way to get to me. That means you're not safe. Not out here alone in Cambodia.”
Lifting her head she shot him a suspicious frown. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying I think you should fly back home with me. If you insist on staying, I’ll stay here, too, I won't allow you to be hurt again, especially not because of me and my family. It will be harder to protect you here, but I won't force you to do something you're uncomfortable with. Still, I think it would be best if you came home with me. We’ll find you a safe house to stay in until we have the proof we need to take these people down and make sure they pay for killing Mom, and hurting you, Willow, and Susanna.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Who are Willow and Susanna?”
Was that a hint of jealousy in her voice or was he merely imagining it? “Willow is a woman Cooper met in Egypt, they’re dating now. And Susanna was Cole’s neighbor who he hated, but we all knew was secretly obsessed with. They cleared the air, and she was able to forgive him and they just got together as well.”
“They were hurt by these same people that framed your mom?”
“They were. These people have to be stopped, Becca. But more than that, I can't let them hurt you. Please, I'm prepared to beg if that’s what it will take, please let me protect you. I owe you so much more but please at least let me do this for you. Let me protect you, it’s my fault you're in danger anyway. I have the skills and the ability to get you somewhere safe, and cameras can monitor the location, so you won't even have to spend time with me.”
The last was harder to say because he ached to be in Becca’s presence again. But in the end, her life was more important than his needs, wants, and desires.
“Connor—”
“I know you don’t trust me anymore,” he said, cutting her off. “But I can do this, Becca. I will do this. Because whether you spend the rest of your life hating me or not, you’re going to live a long and happy life. I won't accept anything less. The world needs you in it, Becca. My world needs you in it.”
August 19 th
1:27 A.M.
She had to be crazy to have agreed to this.
Even as she thought that, Becca knew there was no other option.
Someone was after her because of her past connection to Connor, and even though it might seem like the smartest option was to put as much distance as possible between herself and her former boyfriend, she believed the opposite was true.
Who better to protect her from his enemies than Connor himself?
Already he’d killed for her, protected her, and got her out of the camp where she would have been gang raped and killed. He could keep her safe, that wasn't the issue, the issue was protecting her heart.
There was no way she could allow herself to put it on the line again.
What if Connor broke it all over again?
“Why don’t you go lie down, there's a bed in the back,” Connor suggested when she shifted uncomfortably in her seat again.
They were in a private jet that belonged to Prey Security, heading back home. The plane was nice, so much fancier than anything she’d ever been in, than she’d ever be in again, but she couldn’t enjoy it. Her emotions were all jumbled together in a tangled mess inside her chest, and she didn't have the energy to work on untangling them.
Being near Connor hurt more than the bruised ribs and lump on her head, but being away from him hurt more.
She was so tired of hurting.
If a genie came out of a lamp and offered her three wishes, her first would be to make it so she never met Dylan Sanders. Because then she never would have been raped, lost her foot, and got left with ugly scars, or lost Connor in the first place.
But longing for wishes was childish.
If there was one thing she’d been forced to learn over the last twelve years, it was that bad things happened and you had to learn how to accept them and keep moving forward.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll do that,” she agreed, shoving to her feet. The future was too uncertain for her to allow Connor to become her safe place again. They’d been there and done that and he’d bailed. Letting herself fall into old patterns could wind up yielding the same outcome.
“Hey.” Connor caught her hand as she moved past his seat heading for the bedroom at the back of the plane. “I’ve already contacted Prey, and they’ve started looking for Bella. If anyone can find her, we can.”
While she appreciated that the company he worked for was going to look for Izzy, she wasn't na?ve enough to think that finding her would be easy.
It wouldn't.
In fact, it would be next to impossible.
“I appreciate it,” she assured him, gently tugging her arm free. If she let him touch her, she would end up throwing herself into his arms and begging him to never leave her side again, and that wouldn't be good for either of them.
Connor let her go, and she hurried down into the back room. There was a nice, big, comfortable-looking bed in there, and she climbed onto it and curled up in a ball in the center. It was much harder to be around Connor than she would have guessed if you'd asked her a week ago. He’d been right there beside her while they answered questions, supporting her, watching over her, ensuring she was checked out by a doctor, and that she ate and drank water.
He was taking care of her like he used to and every cell in her body screamed at her to give in and let things go back to how they used to be.
But they couldn’t.
You couldn’t go back in life only forward.
Despite her whirring mind, exhaustion quickly took over now that she was lying down and drifted off into a restless sleep.
“Pretty girl.”
Becca looked over her shoulder to see the man from the tent approaching.
She screamed.
Or she thought she did.
Only she didn't hear a sound.
Run.
She had to run.
Had to get away from him or he’d rape her.
But when she tried to run, she couldn’t.
Looking down, she saw a metal cuff locked around her ankle attached to the ground, and because of it, she couldn’t move.
“Let him touch you, Becca. You know you want it. Just like you wanted me,” Dylan said, appearing at her side beside tent man.
“No! I never wanted you to touch me!” she screamed, this time her voice was so loud it hurt her ears.
How could he say that?
Didn't Dylan know that what he did to her ruined her life?
“Pretty girl,” tent man crooned again as his hands ripped at her clothing, baring her body to him.
His hands touched her.
Dylan’s hands as well.
She couldn’t make them stop.
Couldn’t move at all.
She was stuck.
Trapped.
Helpless.
When tent man and Dylan both shoved inside her simultaneously, she screamed and thrashed with everything she had. Desperate to get them out of her. Desperate to get rid of the feel of them. Desperate to erase their despicable acts from her mind.
“Becca.”
Something was shaking her.
“Wake up, moonlight.”
More shaking as the tent she was trapped in began to fade.
“Good girl, come on, honey, wake up.”
Eyes snapping open, Becca bolted upright to find herself on the plane still in the middle of the bed she’d curled up on to try to get some rest.
Now she wasn't alone. Connor was there knelt on the bed beside her, his hands on her shoulders, panic in his sky blue eyes.
He’d ripped her from a nightmare just like he’d done so many times before in the months following her assault.
It wasn't all he’d done for her.
They’d quickly discovered there was something that helped to calm her when her fears were getting the best of her.
Not that it would be appropriate to do that now that they weren't a couple.
Still, her gaze dropped a little then her cheeks heated when she saw his head dip, his gaze following her own.
“Do you need to do it?” he asked without hesitation, making her gaze snap back up to meet his.
How could he ask her that?
Didn't he know it would be inappropriate?
It had always been a weird way for her to deal with her trauma, but it had worked. It had made her feel like she had control over her body, who touched her, when, and how.
Even now, with twelve years between this moment and the last time they’d been together, there was no fear like there would be with another man. With her fiancé, it had taken months for her to allow him to even hold her hand, more months before she would let him kiss her, and over a year before she’d been ready to have sex with him.
Connor was just different.
He was part of her and that hadn't changed even though so many years had passed.
“We can't,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because we’re not a couple anymore.”
There was no way she couldn’t miss his wince at her words. Still his voice was even when he spoke. “So?”
“What do you mean so?”
“Would it help?”
“Yes,” she somewhat reluctantly answered.
“If we were still a couple would you do it without thinking?”
“You know I would.”
“Then do it. I don’t mind. Becca, all I want is to help you, to make up for letting you down, and find a way to fix things between us. I know this isn’t that, but it is something. It’s something I can do to help you now when you're scared and hurting. Please, let me give you this at least.”
It felt wrong but her hands seemed to move of their own accord. Connor was offering and he wasn't trying to attach any strings to it.
The truth was, couple or not, this would help to calm her racing heart, it would help still the voices in her head, it would remind her that she was still a person, still a woman, and not just a rape victim.
He didn't stop her as she unzipped and pushed down his jeans. In fact, there was a tender smile on his face as she reached into his boxers and pulled his length free. At her touch, it hardened a little, but they both knew this wasn't about sex.
Shifting back so he was resting against the bed’s headboard, Connor guided her head to his lap, and she took his length into her mouth.
As soon as the familiar taste hit her tongue, she felt every muscle in her body relax.
Home.
Connor tasted like home. Like safety, love, and protection.
Nestling her head on his massive thigh, she sucked gently on his length, almost like a baby would on a pacifier. Which was, in essence, what she was doing. Using the tactile feel of his penis to soothe herself while reminding herself that she was in charge. Connor would never turn this into a sexual thing, he wouldn't steal her power, he wouldn't take anything from her that she wouldn't willingly give him.
So when his hand began to stroke her hair, she let her eyes drift closed. She was safe with Connor, she didn't have to worry, didn't have to be on alert.
Even though she knew wishes were pointless, Becca couldn’t help but wish there was a way that she could hold onto this feeling and make it her reality again.
But that was kidding herself.
It could never be her reality.
Could it?