Chapter 8
The movement of fingers between her thighs snapped Cam’s eyes open. Light streamed in through the edges of the curtains near the door. She blinked and stared down at the spread of male on her lower body. They’d slept on top of the covers, Brooks’s head pillowed on her tummy, his hand settled between her thighs. Several inches separated his fingers from her crotch, but god he was close.
She wet her lips. Her tongue moved over the rough texture like a sponge on sandpaper. With her hand curled around Brooks’s neck, she didn’t dare move for fear of waking him. She turned her head to read the clock on the nightstand: 12:01 p.m. Goodness, they’d slept almost seven hours. Normally she slept in underwear, nestled under warm covers, and often woke to pee. But not this time. She’d slept like a baby, snug as a caterpillar in a cocoon with him draped over her. Heat radiated off his torso, but not alarmingly so. He felt more like a normal, hot-blooded male than a dude ravaged by withdrawal.
Soft snores broke from his mouth. With his head using her bladder as a pillow, she might just pee her pants, but that was better than waking him and seeing him go through more physical torture. She’d just hold it until she couldn’t anymore. Staring at the top of Brooks’s head, a twist of pain ripped through her gut. He was dirty. The strands of his hair stuck out at all angles, grease holding them in position better than hair gel. The scent of earth and sweat clung to him. When had he last been rewarded with a shower? No person should be forced to live like he had.
Brooks stirred. His hand tightened on her leg. Energy surged through her core. She curled her toes. It’d been a long time since someone had touched her there. Even though Brooks was half asleep and had no motive behind his actions, the movement still made the yearning lips between her legs pulse.
A low groan rumbled in her belly. Brooks sucked in a deep breath and stretched out his legs, his hand not moving from the increasingly warming spot. He lifted his head and slid his elbow under him to boost himself up. She slid her hand to his shoulder. “Did you sleep?”
A lopsided grin greeted her. “Yeah, I slept good. You?” His thumb stroked her pant leg, scant inches from her sex. Oh, no. If he did that again she’d be a goner.
“Pretty good.” The syllables trembled on her tongue.
He lowered his gaze to his hand, nestled between her thighs. Slowly, he removed it and rolled into a sitting position. With the added hormones flooding her loins, her bladder threatened to explode. She scooted off the bed and to the bathroom, where she shut and locked the door. When she finished her business, she washed her hands and stared into the mirror. Even though she’d removed her makeup the previous night, her eyes were slightly bloodshot, the skin around them puffy, and her color was paler than usual. The seven-hour stretch of sleep had made her feel human, but what had happened the long night prior wasn’t something she was used to. And it showed. She shoved her fingers through her blonde locks, smoothing the strands.
A rap at the door made her jump.
She popped the lock and opened the door. “Yeah?”
Brooks leaned against the door frame, his elbow resting higher than her head. “Sorry, I need to go badly.”
She sidled around him, her hip brushing his thigh and her shoulder grazing his ribs. Her eyes ached to linger on his delicious skin, but he closed the door before she could. Minutes later he emerged.
“You seem better,” she said, shaking out the pillows and making the bed.
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t feel great, but better than yesterday.” He hooked his thumb toward the bathroom. “Do you want to shower first?”
She waved at him. “No. You go ahead. You need it more than I do.” The insult burned her tongue. “I mean...”
He chuckled and sauntered back to the bathroom. “It’s all right. Captivity will do that to a guy. I’ll be quick.” He shut the door, and she dropped on the bed.
He was different now. Not so high-strung and sure as hell less grumpy. She couldn’t get caught up. She’d help him get what he needed today to get on his feet, then they’d part ways.
She retrieved her phone from the nightstand and opened her browser. One thing circled through her mind—a name Brooks had muttered before falling asleep. Conrad Hornick. It didn’t ring a bell, but if researching the man gave her any insight into what had gotten Brooks into this situation, it was worth the time. She tapped her thumbs on the screen, soundlessly entering his name into the device, and hit the search button.
Multiple links popped up. She skimmed the headlines and her gut twisted.
Underground Cult Caught Trafficking Children
Group Home Used to Lure and Sell Children into Sex Slavery
A Dozen Underage Children Found in Sex Trafficking Bust
Her muscles contracted. Unease made her want to stand and pace the room. Blunt fear made the blood drain from her head, leaving a chill on her skin in its wake. Was Brooks involved in the trafficking? What role had he played? Dear god, she better not have just released a twisted rapist.
***
Brooks stepped outof the shower, grabbing a towel. Steam clouded the mirror and hung in the air as if he’d just let off a smoke bomb. Damn it felt good. He’d had only one shower that he remembered in Leonetti’s care—and it had been fast and cold. A reward for his first success: his body not rejecting the drug. Scalding-hot water running over his body and motel shampoo in his hair was the most luxurious thing he’d engaged in in a long time. Almost normal. But he was far from that.
Knock, knock, knock
Sharp raps on the door made him still. He pressed the towel to his junk then opened the door and stared at Cam’s flaming green eyes.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, her phone turned toward him.
He drew his head back. The deep, throbbing headache hadn’t left. Rather, it had become somewhat manageable. Shrieking was one thing he couldn’t deal with. “Can you not yell?” He rubbed his temple. “What are you talking about?”
A flash of concern blipped across her face before disappearing. “This,” she said more softly, hoisting the screen to his eye level.
Her gaze drifted down his body and stopped at the towel that he hadn’t bothered to wrap around his waist, and just covered his cock. A deep red blush covered her cheeks. She turned her head to stare at the wall. He chuckled and swaddled his hips with the towel. “You act like you’ve never seen a naked dude before.”
Her only reaction was a slight scrunch of her nose before she slid her gaze back to his body—her eyes moved their way up from below his navel to his face. She chewed the corner of her lip. He accepted the phone, but instead of giving it his attention just yet, he caught her chin. “Don’t do that. You’re going to make your lip bleed.”
She stopped chewing and drew her chin away. Her eyes were wide, hesitant. Like she feared him or some shit, yet she’d let him cuddle her all morning. He tapped the screen that had gone to sleep. Conrad Hornick’s name filled the search engine. Below it were half a dozen links he didn’t dare open—doing so would only make his blood boil.
Very few details about Conrad came forward in his mind. But without a doubt, he was the man responsible for his imprisonment. He was also a snake, a creep who’d done a lot of illegal shit that Brooks needed to pull from his memory, but only when he was safe—and ready to kill. Questions singed his tongue. “You know him?”
“No,” she said, almost wailing. “God no. Did you read the headlines? He’s a pervert. He’s sold children through his group home into a sex trafficking—”
He held up his hand then breezed out of the bathroom before the steam ate his flesh. “And you’re demanding what of me, exactly?”
“You said his name in your sleep.”
He snapped his head toward her. Damn, he needed pants and a shirt. The last thing he wanted to do was put on the nasty hospital pants he’d worn for at least two fucking weeks. If it weren’t for the flaming blonde vibrating on the spot, he’d take off the towel and get comfortable. Her words hung on a hint of hesitancy. No wonder she’d reacted the way she had. The fact that he knew a guy like Conrad probably didn’t make him very appealing.
“Look, I don’t remember a lot, okay? Almost everything that happened before Conrad took me is blank. Sometimes images and names float through my head, but they don’t mean anything. Not yet.”
She moved closer, her energy toned down. “Do you know who you are?”
“Yeah,” he said, not avoiding the punch of impatience. “I don’t have amnesia. I just—I think it’s blocked. The drug did that. But I made sure to remember him. That’s why I say his name before I fall asleep—so I’ll never forget what he did to me.”
Her pink tongue moved over her teeth, pulling at the need pulsing inside his body. It’d been too long since he felt the heat of a woman, since he’d sunk inside wet pussy. He needed it more than he’d needed the drug last night.
“Why did he do it?”
He grunted with frustration and drove his fingers through his hair, which he’d washed three times to get the grease out. “I don’t know. I feel like”—he took a deep breath and sat on the bed—“like he wanted to silence me. I dunno. That’s just what my instinct is telling me. I knew about something and he needed to get rid of me.”
“By doing what?”
He looked up at her. Her hands were knotted at her waist, and her face was white. Concern emanated from her pores.
“He kept me as a slave.”
She dropped her hands. Her eyebrows soared toward her hairline. “A—what?”
“A slave. He tortured me when he wasn’t using me for manual labor at an acreage he owned. I remember trying to escape and getting beaten within an inch of my life. Then, Dr. Leonetti showed up. And that sick game began.”
Her brow furrowed. “Your chart said you were at the lab for a month. So you were with Conrad for how long?”
He shrugged. “Seven months or so. Things are glitchy before the drug.”
She nodded slowly then lifted her hand toward him. She toyed with his hair before lightly scratching her nails over his scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”
He lifted his lip. “It’s fine. I don’t blame you.”
“No, I shouldn’t have assumed you were involved in his crimes. It was just a strange connection.”
Brooks nodded. “Don’t worry.” He caught her fingers and held them in his grip. “I’m going to find him.”
Color returned to her face. Her peachy tone looked delicious enough to taste. “Why?”
He rubbed her knuckle between his thumb and forefinger. Renewed meaning flooded him. He had a purpose. Now was his time to fulfill it. “I’m going to kill him.”
Her eyes widened. “You can’t.”
“Oh, but I am.” His voice grew thick with determination. “You’re telling me if someone enslaved you and then sold you to be tested on and tortured you wouldn’t want revenge?”
“Of course. But he’ll be in jail soon for what he did.”
Brooks firmed his mouth. “I don’t fucking care. I want him dead. Besides, the crimes he’ll be charged with don’t include what he did to me.” He brought his gaze to the clock on the nightstand. “We should go before they find us.” He lifted the hem of his towel an inch. “Think you could help me out with some clothes?”
“The towel suits you.” She snickered. “There’s a Walmart across the street. I won’t be long.” She let go of his hand and shoved her feet in her shoes. “Is there anything else you need?”
He rubbed his fingers over the scraggle of hair on his chin. “Yeah, a beard trimmer, please.”
She winked and left.
He sat and hung his arms on his knees, his gaze focused on the stained carpet at his feet. He’d find Conrad if it was the last thing he did. Then he’d go back for Leonetti. They’d all burn for what they did to him. If it wasn’t him they were torturing, it’d be someone else. He couldn’t let that happen.
***
Getting Brooks clothingturned out to be more of a shopping trip than Camryn had anticipated. He needed everything. She held a package of men’s briefs—he was big. So large would probably be best. Desire stirred inside her. He’d be large everywhere. Oh gosh. She couldn’t let herself think about his penis. Would he prefer boxers? She threw the briefs into the cart. Underwear was underwear. After piling in three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a few pairs of socks, she headed for the shoes. So much trickier to pick out. She grabbed boots in a size 12. Even if they didn’t fit comfortably, at least his feet would stay dry.
Next, she found a beard trimmer, a toothbrush, and other toiletries he might need. At the self-checkout, she paid with the cash she kept on hand for emergencies—if they were looking for her, better not to lead them right to their location by creating a bank trail.
She loaded the bags into the back seat of her car and headed to the motel. The warm, desert air warmed her skin, making her momentarily forget the chilling events of the last two days. After parking, she scooped up the items and bumped the car door shut with her hip. Moments later, she heard two car doors slam in the parking lot. Two men stalked up to the motel’s office with determination. One studied the parking lot, and then they entered the lobby.
Her heart pounded in triple time.
They couldn’t have found them so fast—could they? She bustled to the unit and unlocked the door. Brooks stood pacing the room, his fingers threaded behind his head, his hard, ripped body on display. Any other time she’d be content just to watch his unadorned masculinity at work, but not now. She dropped the bags on the floor. “I think we have company.”
He dropped his arms and advanced on the window. She shut and locked the door as he moved the blinds. “Who?”
“I don’t know. I could be paranoid, but something about them just made me uneasy.”
He bent down and tore open the bags, going for the underwear first. “Trust your gut.” He yanked off his towel—clearly modesty wasn’t his thing—and pulled out a pair of black briefs. “Thanks for all this. I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my shit together.”
She swallowed over the thickening mass in her throat. Her eyes burned with the need to trail down his body, but she forced them to stay glued on his abdomen. At least she could take in his muscles for god’s sake. As he bent forward and stepped into the briefs, her gaze dropped to his dick, thick and large. She whipped around to face the door.
“It’s all right. Look if you want,” he said, amusement dancing on his words.
Swallowing and keeping her face turned away, she picked up the bag with his toiletries and set it next to the bathroom door beside her go-bag. She knotted her hands at her sides, waiting to face him. “Do they fit?”
“They’re a little snug in the front. Should have gotten an XL.”
She snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth. Hot, funny, and cocky—in more ways than one. She turned around, balancing her hands on her hips as he fit his arms through the black cotton T-shirt. “If you’re done trying to embarrass me, can we go?” Where they were going was another story. But the hair standing at attention on the back of her neck screamed at her to get out.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’d check you out if you were naked, too.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “I see you’re feeling much better.”
“Nah,” he said with a shrug. “Pretty sure the nausea’s coming back and my blood pressure is skyrocketing. Think you can check my vitals again?”
She narrowed her eyes at his sly smirk. For a guy who’d been in captivity for numerous months, he sure knew how to make a lady’s legs go weak. On the other hand, she hadn’t had the chance to research the drug, and leaving now, when he could be hit with a second wave of side effects, wouldn’t be very ethical.
Voices reached her ears. She swiveled her head toward the window. Two silhouettes hovered near their unit. “Shit,” she breathed.
The door handle turned. She pressed her palm to the wood. It had to be Leonetti’s men. How had they found them already? A tremor wracked her spine. She didn’t need to look at Brooks to sense the rage pouring off his body.
His arm looped around her waist and carried her away from the door. She didn’t fight. He plopped her on her feet in the bathroom, gripping her shoulders. “Stay here. Lock the door and don’t come out.”
Her gun. She had one in her go-bag. “Wait!”
He paused at the door.
“There’s a—”
Crack!
A bullet fired. She screamed and clamped her hands over her ears. Brooks yelled something at her before slamming the bathroom door. Her breath spiraled in and out of her chest in a torrent of wind. She flattened her back against the wall.
Bang!
The splintering of wood followed. They were inside.
And Brooks was unarmed.