Chapter 5
Cam Gripped Brooks’s fingers. She watched as Jen snagged a vial of medication from the cupboard. Brooks let go of her hand and lowered it to the sheet, his movement slow. She watched as he went for the restraint at his confined left hand.
Oh, no.
Sharp fear bit her insides. She brought her attention to Brooks’s gaze, and widened her eyes with warning. He jerked his head, urging her to back up.
Shit. If something happened to him—or Jen—it’d be her fault. She’d undone his restraint, hadn’t given him the meds...
But even before she’d witnessed the devastation on the twelfth floor, she’d had her concerns about Brooks’s treatment. Regardless of what wrongs he’d committed, he didn’t deserve to be tortured or experimented on. She’d promised him she’d protect him, and she would.
Her chest moved in spasms. She couldn’t let Jen give him the sedative. If he was right and they took him away, he was screwed. “Leave him alone,” she said. Her voice rang with an authority she didn’t carry. But there was no way she could stand back and let them torture him. “He doesn’t need to be sedated.”
“Oh, right,” Jen said with a laugh. “Tell that to Dr. Leonetti.” She whirled around, syringe in hand. “Look, I get some things are hard to deal with. It’s all part of the job. But if you want to keep yours, you need to hold your tongue. If this is too much for you to handle, there’s the door.” She nodded at it.
Camryn stiffened her spine. “Did you see what happened on the twelfth floor? Do you know what Dr. Leonetti has done to this patient?” Her voice rose to a high octave.
Jen’s eyes flashed. “It’s not my business, and it sure as hell isn’t yours. We have orders to follow and medications to administer. And you’re going to believe the word of a paranoid patient over a doctor?” She brought her attention to Brooks and grabbed his now-free wrist, needle poised.
Brooks smirked then snagged Jen’s forearm. He lurched into a sitting position, twisting her in his hold. Jen sucked in a breath to scream, but he silenced her with his palm. She struggled in his grasp, her back to his chest.
Camryn pressed her fingers to her temple. Her heart rapped against her chest. She went to the door and snapped the lock in place. She turned around just as Brooks wrestled the syringe from Jen’s fingers and stuck it in her neck. Jen’s wild eyes landed on Camryn. The fluid drained from the syringe.
Guilt hit Camryn’s gut with the force of an anvil as Jen’s eyes rolled back and her body turned to limp spaghetti. Brooks stood with her in his arms, lowered her to the bed, secured the restraints on her wrists, then covered her with the sheet.
Camryn raked her gaze up the length of his tatted-up body. Pale-green scrub pants hung low on his hips. Every surface of his skin bulged with muscle, and tattoos painted his body in a seductive tangle of images and words. The top of her head barely reached his pec. Dangerous. Deadly. And possibly unhinged. Shivers of excitement and apprehension rippled through her, the waves colliding.
He turned to her. His eyes were a piercing blue. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Dear god, what the hell have I done?
He took the two steps that separated them, clutching her arm. “I mean it. If they come in and find me, they’ll send me off tonight and kill you to silence you.” His vibrant eyes danced with urgency. “You have no idea what they’re involved in.”
Panic made her head whizz. He was right. After what she’d witnessed, she couldn’t be certain they wouldn’t kill her. If everyone who worked on the floor turned a blind eye to Dr. Leonetti’s mistreatment of patients, they’d do the same regarding her sudden disappearance.
But jeez Louise, helping a patient who was capable of murder to escape seemed damn-near fatal.
He shook her arm. “You need to help me, Cam.”
The use of her nickname, so soft on his lips, stalled the anxiety spiraling out of control. She tilted her head. “How? We’re on the seventh floor of the basement for god’s sake. I can’t just lead you to an exit.”
“You need to get me a shirt—scrubs. Please.”
Her gaze scoured the room. Frick, frick, frick. She couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t walk out and call for help either. After getting him the shirt, she could leave. She’d already mentioned she wasn’t well. Yes. That could work.
“All right.” She nodded. “Stay here. And don’t hurt anyone.” The last statement was a plea.
He lifted his hand as if in promise then slid behind the door as she unlocked and opened it. She eased into the hall, and the lock clicked behind her.
Kate flitted past her. “Hey, Camryn. Jen mentioned you’re not feeling good. You look pale. You okay?” She spoke a mile a minute, her lips moving almost as fast as her feet. She pivoted to wait for Camryn’s answer, walking backward at half the pace.
“Uh, kind of. Almost got sick in there. I’ll need to hurry back to administer his sedative. Then I might head home.”
Kate stopped, and concern knitted her brow. “I can finish him for you.” She walked toward the door.
Camryn sidestepped in front of her. “No! No. It’s fine. I just need a quick drink of water. You’ll already be swamped after I leave.”
Kate tilted her head. “Ah, you want another glimpse of all that male yumminess, huh? Don’t blame you.” She winked and sauntered off. “Feel better. See you next week!” she called, waving over her shoulder.
Right. She had three days off after this. Not that it mattered because she wouldn’t be returning. Not after Jen woke up and told them Camryn had let Brooks inject her and didn’t alert anyone when he escaped. She bustled toward the staff room and grabbed a cup of water from the dispenser in case Kate buzzed through. Leaning against the water cooler, she sipped from the waxy-tasting paper cup and took in the room. How would she find an extra scrub top that would fit Brooks? He was bigger than a G.I. Joe. He’d sure as hell raise eyebrows in a shirt too short and tight for him. And there was no way she could check every locker without being noticed.
Her gaze landed on a bin on the floor of the coat closet. Black letters spelled LOST AND FOUND. Kneeling, she rifled through. An old shoe, a hairbrush, a makeup mirror. As she reached the bottom, soft fabric brushed her fingers. Bingo. Pulling out the musty-smelling scrub shirt, she shook it. Big. Definitely men’s. She checked the size—large. He’d probably need an extra large, but this would have to do. She rolled the shirt into a ball, tucked it under her scrubs, then wrapped her arms around her waist. This would support her upset-stomach story. No one paid her any attention as she exited the staff room. Two staff members lingered at the triage station, chatting and laughing. Others bustled in and out of rooms.
She reached room thirty-six and rapped her knuckles on the door. The lock released. She eased the door open then shut it and locked it firmly behind her. She let out a tight breath, and a surge of nausea followed.
Brooks hovered near the door. “Any luck?”
She reached under her shirt and tossed him the ball of material. He shook it out and held it up.
“It’s all I could find.” She bent over, her hand gripping her side.
One smooth, dark eyebrow lifted. “You okay?” He fit the shirt over his head and threaded his arms through. His muscles moved gracefully. Before her panties could get wet as a result of his “yumminess,” Camryn quickly gave her mind a shake. He’s dangerous. Deadly. Those were the things she needed to remember.
“Fine. Just an accessory to a crime.” Sarcasm chomped her words.
“I want you to leave first. Stay close by. When it’s clear for me to get to the stairs unnoticed, rub your ear or something,” he said, clearly unaware of her angst.
She rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? I just told Kate I’m going home.” Her voice was raspy. “I can’t just hang out in the hallway doing nothing.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Pretend you’re on a call.”
“No reception down here.”
“Then just hang out at the nurse’s station. I’ll crack the door and wait for your signal.”
She heaved a sigh. He hadn’t even asked her if she’d help, had just assumed she would because she was already in neck deep. But if he’d killed four men without batting an eye, he’d do the same to her if she defied him... or would he? He hadn’t hurt her yet. And the idea of carrying on with her job—or worse, quitting and pretending she hadn’t seen a thing—made her far more uneasy than the idea of letting him escape. With that notion firmly in her grip, she nodded. “Fine. I can pretend to use the desk phone.” She reached for the door then paused. “Where will you go?”
He folded his arms across his chest, reminding her of the stark differences between the description on his chart and the man who stood in front of her. She couldn’t deny he had some level of paranoia. But he exuded a control and confidence that made her question every word she’d read about him.
He hooked his lips into a smirk. “Don’t worry about me. Just take care of yourself. They’ll know you let me escape when she comes to.” He slid his gaze toward Jen’s body then took a step closer to Camryn, getting ready to move behind the door. “You need to get far away from here, Cam. These people aren’t anyone to mess with.”
A lump of fear grew in her chest. She’d come here to escape her malicious nephew, had been here only a few weeks, and already she needed to run again. Sadness closed in around her. She wanted her life back. Her apartment. Her mom...
She forced the gravel from her throat. She wouldn’t fall into a puddle of tears. Not until she was alone. “Okay, thanks.” She slipped out of the room. This time, the lock didn’t sound. She collected her belongings from the staff room and went to the nurse’s station at the hive of the floor.
John, a nurse she’d spoken to only long enough to introduce herself, waved at her. “You leaving already?”
She angled her body toward the door. Brooks was holding it open slightly, watching. She surveyed the floor. Everyone was distracted. He could go now, if she could keep John occupied. She brought her gaze back to John and smiled. She lifted her fingers to her earlobe and rubbed it. “Uh, yeah. I’m not feeling so well.”
John drew his head back and curled his lip. “Ugh, hope it’s not contagious.” He started to turn toward the hallway leading to Brooks’s room. A quick glance revealed Brooks moving out the door and checking the hallway. The exit wasn’t far. Just straight down the hall to the right of Brooks’s room. He could make it.
“Um,” she said, stopping John in his tracks. “I need to make a call before I leave. My cell phone’s dead. How do you dial out?”
He dragged the phone across the desk and lifted the receiver. “You just have to hit 9 to dial out if it’s local. If it’s long-distance, hit pound. I make all my long-distance calls from work.” He winked. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.” He sauntered down the hall.
She pressed the phone to her ear, her eyes wide on Brooks’s closed door. Then she shifted her gaze toward the stairwell. Empty. Had he slipped out already? She dipped her chin, pretended to talk on the phone, and hung up. Her mind wandered to John. He was a nice guy. Definitely not her type, but nice. Funny. Did he know what was going on? Was he perhaps one of the staff who just chose to turn a blind eye? Did as he was asked and didn’t question anything, like Jen?
She got into the elevator and stared at the numbers. Brooks’s words ran through her head as if on a carousel.
Do you really think they would document an experimental drug I never consented to using? Just like they documented the water torture and the incident in the basement?
They might not have marked it on his chart, but there had to be a record of the drug he’d been given. She trailed her fingers over the buttons. She needed to leave. Ached to go home to her small townhouse and forget all this happened. But she wouldn’t be able to return here after tonight. Letting Brooks escape had been dangerous, reckless. Forbidden. She could probably even be charged—frick. They’d be looking for her. Now was her only chance to settle her mind and cover her ass. If she had proof of what they’d given Brooks, she might withstand any repercussions of her actions. God, this job was like stumbling onto a path of breadcrumbs. She couldn’t turn away. She had to find out where it led.
She tapped the number 12. The elevator descended.
A few seconds later, it slowed to a stop and she stepped onto the quiet floor. She made a beeline for the door, reached into the still-broken window, and turned the handle. After pulling out her phone and turning on the light, she went to the desk, ignoring the computer she couldn’t access. Nothing. No notebooks, no leftover drug pamphlets. Sweeping her flashlight over the room, she stopped at a metal cabinet against the wall. One of its doors was slightly ajar. She scrambled over the glass shards and opened it.
A small red tray held numerous vials. Using the hem of her long-sleeved shirt underneath her scrub, she pulled one out and read the label.
Axalantheum, 500 mg.
She dropped the vial into her pocket, tucked her phone away, and left the room. Once she stepped into the elevator and hit M, she exhaled. The elevator stopped on the main floor. Her shoes wisped over the clean linoleum. She shoved open the door and the cool, summer air struck her face.
A chill raced up her spine.
Brooks could be out here...
Waiting for her.
***
Brooks watched fromthe driver’s seat of the car he’d broken into in the staff parking lot. Cam climbed into a clunky white Honda, reversed, and drove toward the road as slow as a tortoise. He rolled down the window and sucked in a deep breath of freedom. Nothing would stop him now.
Except he didn’t have clothes, shoes, food, or a fucking dime. By morning, when Jen woke up, they’d be on the hunt for him. They might even plaster his face all over the news, despite the fact that Leonetti had taken him against his will—and who would believe his word over Leonetti’s? He could disguise himself to an extent, but given that he was covered in tattoos, there was only so much a hair change could do. The worst part was, he wouldn’t get far tonight. Not when the withdrawal would set in soon. He reached beneath the steering wheel, pulled off the plastic piece that protected the wires, and hot-wired the car. It revved to life.
He glanced at the dash: 8:46 p.m. He did a rough calculation. Leonetti had administered the drug between 2:30 p.m. and 3:00 p.m. The drug usually stayed in his system for eight hours. Without a sedative overnight, he’d suffer hard. Tomorrow would be worse. He had to leave now. A sensation pulled at his chest.
He couldn’t leave. Not with unfinished business. Pulling out of the parking spot, he drove in the direction of Cam’s taillights. Leaving the driver’s side window down, the wind whipping over the glass. The sound was so foreign, yet so natural. He lifted his gaze to the clear sky laid out before him. Each star was like a glimmer of opportunity that everyone was worthy of, and that he’d been robbed of for the last eight months.
Who would he be now? It’d take a long time to remember his past, his family. Family. Every time he thought of the word, his body rejected it, as if the memories would be too much for him to bear. His life before Conrad kidnapped and sold him was a giant part of who he was today and how he’d managed to stay alive. After he satisfied his revenge, then and only then would he open himself up to who he’d been before all this started.
He drove behind Camryn for half an hour. Her red taillights were small dots that became brighter as the sun fell behind the mountains. If he got too close, he’d spook her. With his heightened senses, he could see a greater distance than the average person. A sign for a town approached, and he sped up so he wouldn’t lose her. Ten minutes later, she turned left on a side street. Slowly, he took the same turn and watched her pull in the driveway of a townhouse: 1341B Primrose Lane. She didn’t open the attached garage door. He drove past the house. Better not to alert her that she’d been followed. He drove around the corner and pulled into the parking lot of a public park. A deep ache to be in solitude, even just for a few minutes, called to him. He stepped out of the car and walked toward the open field. His bare feet squished over the grass. The fresh scent of earth and greenery struck him. It’d been so long since he smelled nature. Even longer since he’d appreciated it. He couldn’t count two nights ago, when he’d been amped up on the drug, running through the forest and being hunted.
He tipped his head back and stared at the vast night sky.
Sorrow brought him to his knees. He sniffled deep and loud, the sound opening the cavern of devastation in his chest. Touching his fingers to the blades of grass at his knees, he closed his eyes. Part of him wanted to die right here. To stop them from finding him. He wanted to let go of the anger and the ugly hatred, move on with his newfound freedom, but it wasn’t that fucking simple. The wings of panic battered away the pain. They’d find him. They’d turn over every rock to get him back into that fucking lab, to the metal table and restraints, the highs and the sedation, the documentation and the evaluation.
Over my dead body.
He made a silent vow. He’d never go back there alive.