12. Carsyn
TWELVE
CARSYN
G arrison got an important call of some sort this morning. That’s how I woke up. His booming voice promising whoever was on the other end that he’d “be there” and that they shouldn’t worry. That was followed up with a lot of stomping around the house, and the door slamming.
I have no idea where he is now, or if he’s even home.
But the moment I roll onto my side in bed and open my eyes, last night crashes down over me like a shattered vase, leaving shattered, painful bits of discomfort everywhere. I move my foot through the sheets and get a flash of my hand, knuckles white, grabbing this very same bedding as I cried out for more. I clutch the pillow beneath me and feel his hand on my throat all over again. Between my legs, excitement thrums at the memory while at the same time, my stomach grows queasy and my eyes burn with shameful tears.
How could I have sex with him?
When I’m rescued or free or whatever the fuck, the police are gonna ask me about every damn moment of this captivity. And I can’t lie. Because if I lie, it devalues every other word of my experience. But if I tell them that I willingly opened my legs for the man that drugged and chained me for whoever knows how long? They’re gonna think I’m a whore. As it is, I willingly came to Garrison’s house in the first place. Granted then I didn’t know who he was. Had I known he was the devil’s brother I never would have come here. Duh.
God, Carsyn, what the fuck did you do now?
For whatever reason, my mind, like a hungry hawk, circles the fact that Garrison did not come inside me. He pulled out, made me suck myself off of him while he came down my throat. Shame floods my cheeks and heats my spine at the memory. I loved tasting myself on him, and I’ve yet to meet a cowboy in Buffalo Trails that was kinky enough to try anything like that. Not until my captor. And I loved it.
Fuck. I am really messed up.
What’s worse, I fell asleep without even taking a pee or showering. I slept with him all over me.
And I slept mighty good, too.
“Liam,” I say to myself.
He’s out there. The man who helped save my brother and Kinleigh’s life. Who risked his career and arguably his own life to help us. I was so busy replaying what happened with Garrison last night in my mind that I forgot he’s out there, hurt and maybe worse. What does that say about me? I’m in here feeling guilty that I fucked Garrison, getting turned on all over again, and yet, I haven’t thought about Liam until just now?
Fuck, I hate myself.
I hate myself so much.
Self hatred has me throwing the covers to the floor and lunging out of bed, using all the chain length I have to get to the door. Swinging it open, I call for Garrison, getting a pulse on if he’s home.
“Garrison!” I shout for him a few times but each time, I’m met with silence.
Maybe he’s gone? If he’s gone, I can talk to Liam without prying, evil, brother-in-law to the devil ears listening. We can make a plan. Liam and I are on the same side, not me and Garrison. Last night was something to dissect later, when I’m under the care of a therapist and possibly on lithium. For now, Liam and I must make a plan to escape. And then he can tell me why he’s here in the first place because Garrison didn’t lie—Liam came here willingly, with a knife.
But… he said he didn’t know I was here. Something about that feels off, then again, my gut also urged me to spread my legs for Garrison. I let out a sigh, untrusting of everyone, even myself in these moments.
“Garri—”
He appears in front of me, cowboy hat on, tan vest over his flannel, buckled and booted, ready to ride. “Stop shouting, Jesus,” he growls, his eyes cold and distant.
“Where’s Liam? Is he okay?” I ask, extending my leg back behind me to give me another inch of chain, trying desperately to peer around the corner.
A grunt of disapproval rumbles through Garrison’s chest. “I don’t remember you giving a good goddamn about Liam Davis last night, when my cock was making your toes curl.”
I blink up at him, my insides a ball of wanton flames, ferocious and fiery. Carsyn, you do not want this man. This man is bad. Get your shit together before you end up on the local news as a goddamn accomplice after the fact!
“Shut up,” I breathe, my bottom lip suddenly trembling. I don’t want my nose rubbed in it ever, especially not yet. “Is Liam ok?”
Garrison remains silent for a moment, hovering there, greedy green eyes pinched into a nasty glare. Finally, he sighs. “Ask him yourself. I’m going out for the day. I moved him so he can sit on the couch, and I’ll add some length to your chain so you can sit here,” he says, motioning to a spot on the floor just a few feet from him.
“Enough length to talk, and that’s it,” Garrison clarifies, tone clipped.
“We won’t be able to touch?” I question, staring at the empty space on the floor where I will be sitting in a few minutes.
“Talking does not require touching,” Garrison replies, his shoulder knocking me back as he forcibly brushes past me into my room. At the wall, he pulls more chain through before relocking it, giving me an extra three feet.
Without a word, he moves past me, out into the kitchen. I follow him as far as I can go, leaving me directly in the middle of a sleeping Liam and an angry looking Garrison, making coffee at the stove.
“Where are you going?” I hear myself asking, despite the fact that asking is wrong. Asking means I have some interest in him and what he’s doing. All I need to know is when he is letting me out of this place. Where he is going today is not my business.
“If I tell you,” Garrison says, adjusting his hat as he readies a travel mug for coffee. “Then I’d have to kill ya.” He doesn’t smirk, nor does he laugh.
“Is he hurt or asleep?” I ask, bypassing his comment and the way my heart races uncontrollably because of it.
“I don’t know but I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it,” he says, pouring the fresh brew into his mug. He pulls another mug down, and fills it, sliding it to the edge of the counter. He opens the microwave, reaching inside, setting a plate of food out on the counter. “This is for you.” I reach for it and he yanks it back, his eyes warning me. “Do not feed him.”
I look between a sleeping Liam and a freshly shaved and dressed Garrison.
“Where are you going? When are you coming back?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ears, not making any promises about not feeding Liam. If he’s hungry, I’ll give him food, and Garrison can kiss my ass, evil captor or not.
He snatches his keys from the counter, and stuffs a gun into the back of his pants, adjusting his hat last. “I’ll be back later. Tonight, near dark.”
“What—what if,” I start, unsure of how that sentence can end. Garrison stomps up to me, taking my jaw in his hand as he commands me to look up at him.
“Eat your breakfast,” he says, after his lips move a moment without coming out. It’s as if telling me to eat wasn’t what he needed or wanted to say. Then he stomps out, and I stand stagnant in the middle of the room, wondering where he went and what he went to do.
A beat passes, and Liam twists on the couch, sitting up, exposing his filthy, blood-stained and bruised face to me.
“Liam,” I breathe, temporarily forgetting my chain. Rushing toward him, the chain prevents me from breaking new ground and I’m yanked back. Slipping, I fall to my hands and knees. Liam jumps to his feet and races toward me to help me, but gets pull back by the shackles around his ankles. His wrists are still bound by cuffs, but now they’re at least in front of him. “Are you okay?” Reaching, I bring my palm to his cheek, stroking his face and the layers of blood and bruising.
He reaches out, waffling his other hand with mine. I look down at our joined fingers. Liam and I have been friends for a few months, but before Colton was taken, I didn’t know him. I’ve lived in Buffalo Trails my entire life but never met Liam Davis. That fact occurs to me just then as I stare down at our linked fingers, his dirty, mine clean.
“It’s so good to see you again, Carsyn. God, I’m so glad to see you,” he says, his voice rough with disuse. “And I’m okay. I’ve just… been pretending to sleep because it’s easier than dealing with him,” he admits, nodding to the couch where Garrison had moved him.
“Why did you come here?” I ask, breaking out contact so I can get to my feet and fetch the plate of food and mug of coffee. On shaky legs, I walk it back to him, and Liam dips his head graciously as I pass it off. He inhales the plate, and my stomach rumbles, but I know he needs it more than I do.
After he’s done, he begins to sip the coffee, his blue eyes travelling to mine over the mug.
“Why did you come here?” I try again, and this time, I can see the question registers. He lowers the mug, licking his lips, and slumps against the wall with a sigh.
“I came here to get you. To get you to safety,” Liam says, his eyes fluttering closed as a hand comes to rest on his stomach. “God that was good but I feel sick.”
“You ate it too fast,” I tell him. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, about a foot between us, I poke Liam in the leg. “But… I heard you ask Garrison if I was here.”
Liam’s eyes search mine, and a small smile curls his lips. “I missed you, Carsyn.” His reply is sweet and while it does not rectify any of the confusion, the genuine sentiment is just what I need. He sighs, studying the worn tips of his boots a moment before twisting his gaze back to me. “I thought you were here. I’d hoped. The Sheriff’s department felt certain that Forrest’s guys are the ones who took you, so I placed my bets on his right hand being the smoking gun.”
It’s the first time, aside from the newscast that Garrison shared with me, that I’ve heard anyone reference my missing status. “Sounds like they were right, so thank god.” I reach for his hand and our fingertips tangle.
I suppose all that makes sense. Forrest’s sex trafficking operation was just busted—highly unlikely he’d kidnap one of his victim’s sisters for any reason at all, even if it was just to kill me. Plus, if Forrest Conway wanted me dead, I would be. Of that I have no doubt.
“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry all this has happened but I’m glad you’re okay,” I tell Liam, twisting so my back rests against the same wall that his does. A foot of distance keeps us from touching, but we face one another, and Liam’s soft smile slips away.
“Are you okay?” he asks, something ugly dancing through his eyes for a moment. Fear washes through me for a minute until I remember we’re both prisoners. Liam’s been beat up, hassled, shit talked, and hurt. He’s well within reason to look a little off.
I nod, feeling my hair tangle against the wall behind me as I do. “I’m okay.”
His jaw tenses for a moment. “You sure?”
My pulse skips and for some reason, I think of Garrison. Not longer than a split second, but still, under Liam’s intense gaze, I think of Garrison and his complete lack of care or respect for Liam. I can’t wrap my head around why Garrison hates Liam so much. “I’m sure,” I say, smiling a tiny bit. “I’m fine.”
Liam’s lips turn down and he nods his head, only partially satiated from my response. “Sounded like you were going through something painful last night.”
His words tear through my brain like a train, making my temples ache and my thoughts echo. Liam heard us last night. Ah, that’s right, because he was only pretending to be passed out.
“Did he force himself on you, Carsyn?” Liam asks, his voice husky, his glare intense. He knows the answer, and it’s a shameful one.
“Liam,” I start, but I don’t want to answer. I don’t want to admit the truth out loud, the same truth I’ve been struggling with since the night I got here. Garrison Conway is a monster and a kidnapper and I want things from him that no one would understand. I need him in ways that I know makes me look bad.
I can’t help it.
“He’s a dangerous son of a bitch, Carsyn. Okay? No matter what head games he’s playing on you, remember this, we need to get the fuck out of here before we leave in body bags. Okay? So you gotta do something for me.”
I lick my lips, embarrassed to meet his eye after outing that I willingly fucked the man who kidnapped us. “What is it?”
He scoots close to me, so close that our thighs barely bump. He rests his palm on my knee–a stretch–and squeezes. “You gotta find the key to my cuffs. Once you free me, I can free you, then we can both get the fuck out of here.”
“Garrison has your car keys, and he took his truck. There’s no way he left the keys here,” I tell him, despite the fact I’m already looking around the small farm home, trying to think of where he may stash them. After all, the weapons were in plain sight just tucked into a closet as if they were a hat box or piece of luggage.
“You don’t know that,” Liam argues, “and we have to try. And if you can’t find a key, anything that will fit in the lock could work, maybe,” he says, rubbing one hand around the opposite wrist, soothing the red marks left by the metal cuffs.
“I don’t—” I start, reaching for a bit of chain to collect, lifting it for Liam to see. “I’m not much better off than you are. I don’t have enough length to get inside his room or the kitchen.”
Liam nods. “That’s okay, you search your room top to bottom. I mean everywhere you can look, do it. Pull open the heater vent in the floor, see if anything is taped inside there.” He links our fingers again, but there is no shimmy of familiarity that zips through me at his touch. “Please, you have to help us get out of here. We can’t stay. Maybe you can play house but I can’t.”
“Play house?” I scramble to my feet, offended and hurt. “I’m not doing that, Liam. I’ve just been surviving, same as you.”
Liam and I stare at one another before he finally says, “I know, I’m sorry. Now will you go into that room and please look?”
I look down at the cuff around my ankle. If Liam gets free, we wouldn’t have to find the key to my cuff. He could find a tool or something to break it open. Nodding, I collect the plate and mug and place it on the counter. “I’ll get started.”
Liam gets to his feet too and begins pulling couch cushions off of the couch. “I’ll look, too.” He smiles. “We’ll get out of here, I’ll get us out of here, Cars, I promise.”