Chapter 10
Cam leaned on the hood of her car on the side of the road at North Peak Trail lookout. It’d taken almost thirty minutes to drive there, and still tremors wracked her body. Leonetti’s men had found them too easily. For now, they just had to drive and keep distance between them and Leonetti’s men. Finding Conrad was Brooks’s top priority right now, and she couldn’t blame him. Brooks came around the side of the car with her medical kit in hand. He cracked it open and sifted through the first-aid items.
“I can do that,” she said, her voice sounding small.
He chuckled. “I don’t doubt you can. But you’ve taken care of me so much already.” He pulled out an alcohol wipe and ripped open the foil. She stiffened as he dabbed it on her wound. “That sting?”
Her lips wriggled. “Yeah, a bit.” Keeping her gaze on the scenery around them, she took in the sweeping mountains. Dirt covered the desert, but the air wasn’t as warm as she’d expected. The sun touched her cheeks, and she let its healing rays clear her mind as she closed her eyes.
Brooks pulled the wipe away, and then a cool ointment touched her skin. She cracked open her eyes and studied his features. Perfectly straight nose, high cheekbones, thick, dark lashes, and finger-length hair, which was a tousled mess on his head. He filled out the black T-shirt, stretching the seams. His eyes lifted to hers. Deep baby blues danced with playfulness. “If you’re done checking me out, I’ll bandage you.”
She pulled her lips into a frown, but a smile soon tugged at the muscles. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”
“Nah. I just know interest when I see it.” He opened a bandage then placed his palm on her jaw as he steadied her.
Her nerves jumped. His hand had done a lot of damage to a lot of people. Yet his touch was delicate. The callus on the pad of his thumb caught the corner of her mouth as he smoothed the area.
The walls of her lungs stuck together, making breathing difficult. Did she deny the fact that he was interesting?
No, Cam. In the great words of Shakespeare, “The lady doth protest too much.”“It’s hard not to be interested, you know.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Because I was a lab rat and you’re not sure what I’ll do next?” His mouth twitched, but a shadow crossed his face.
She closed her hand around his forearm. “No. I’m not afraid of you.” The last part slipped over her tongue like butter on a hot skillet. If anyone needed to hear those words, it was Brooks. She moved her lip between her teeth. Careful words evaded her. “You’re a bit enigmatic. And I admire your strength.”
He peeled off the adhesive cover on the bandage and stuck it to her chin. “The strength is all thanks to Axalantheum.”
Hearing the drug’s name on his lips reminded her of seeing him in the hospital bed. So alone. So hardened, defensive, and scared. “That’s not the kind of strength I’m talking about.” She swept her thumb over his brawny flesh. A muscle in his forearm jumped beneath her touch, as if he expected an injection. “Anyone else in your position would have gone insane.”
He blinked, drew in a breath, and let it sigh through his lips. He tilted his head to the soaring sky above them. Not a cloud covered the blue backdrop. The temperature had picked up several degrees since earlier as the afternoon sun climbed higher in the sky. “You know, I never thought I’d be a free man again.” He lifted his shoulder. “Guess I’m not yet.”
“Why do you say that?”
His eyes turned to slate. “Because I won’t be free as long as they’re alive.” He crumpled up the bandage wrappers and tucked them into the medical kit before zipping the case. “Question is, how the fuck did they find me?”
She tapped her thumbs on the warm metal hood of her car. “I wondered the same. It’s possible they saw my car. I’m sure they went to my house. I don’t think they can track my cell phone—”
“Shit!” Brooks turned away from her, his hand scrubbing the back of his neck. “Shit, shit, shit!” He kicked a stone and it skittered into a cactus.
Cam jumped from the hood. “What’s the matter?”
Brooks held both hands in his hair, tugging the strands as if he wanted to rip them out by their roots. “They fucking tracked me. Like I’m a goddamn piece of property.”
Cam reached out for the car to stop her body from slumping down. Every breath kicked up a dust storm in her mouth, the dryness so overpowering she couldn’t summon even a drop of saliva. He couldn’t mean they’d tracked his person. No. No way.
He ran his fingers over the back of his neck as though he were a feral cat with fleas.
Cam bit her fingers fiercely into his bicep. “Brooks! Tell me what—”
He seized her shoulders. “You need to get it out.”
She shook her head. Alarm made her movement slow. “What are you talking about?”
“They put a microchip inside me when I arrived at the lab. I—fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. I need you to remove it.” He brought his hand to the back of his head again.
Frost pulled the skin on her back into goosebumps. He couldn’t be serious. A microchip? She’d heard of people microchipping their pets, but surely Brooks was wrong. Maybe he’d had a bad nightmare and—
She met his wild, terrified stare. She couldn’t doubt him. She’d check for the chip. Hopefully he was wrong. If he wasn’t, they didn’t have time to waste.
“I’ll do it.” He went to her nurse’s bag and yanked out a pair of sharp scissors.
She pressed a firm hand on his, stopping him. “Sit down,” she said, her voice steady.
He took her vacated spot on the hood. She ran her fingers over his flesh, poking and kneading the spot he’d indicated. “I’ll need to make an incision—”
“Just do it.”
She took the scissors from his fingers, put them back in the bag, then wiggled on a pair of latex gloves. Next, she reached for the scalpel and removed its protective cap. It was one of those tools she carried that she hoped to hell she’d never have to use. She cleaned his skin with an alcohol wipe. His spine was ramrod straight against her abdomen. “Try to breathe,” she said, pausing to press her hand to his shoulder.
His shoulders relaxed and he took several breaths. “Ready.”
She felt the spot again and located a bump. It was the size of two grains of rice. Holy shit. Holding her finger on it, she used the tip of the scalpel to cut his skin in a parallel line. He didn’t jump, but heat rolled off his back. She lifted the knife. “There. Hopefully we won’t need another incision.”
“I’ve had far worse.” The words came out as dry as a martini. Each one of her heartstrings twanged in her chest. She didn’t even know the half of what he’d endured the last eight months—if he was even accurate about how long he’d been held captive. Mist coated her eyes, and she blinked it away.
Placing the knife down, she turned back to the wound she’d created. Her stomach churned viciously. Doubt crept over her mind. Part of her thought he was wrong, or wanted to hope it was his paranoia that believed there was a microchip in his neck—dear god, who would do such a thing? But the other part of her, the one that sucked at the pit of her stomach, knew Brooks hadn’t been wrong so far. Everything he’d claimed had been proven true.
She pressed her forefinger on the side of the hard piece—maybe it wasn’t a microchip. Maybe what she was feeling was scar tissue or some kind of deformity. She used her fingertips to push the object toward the incision as if she were removing a sliver. A clear white piece popped up. There was something planted in him.
Acid hit her palate.
She pushed harder. Brooks didn’t flinch. Taking shallow breaths through her nose, she fought the rush of anxiety that threatened to steal her consciousness. Never in her nursing career had she fainted, and she wouldn’t start now.
Using her fingernails, she pulled on the tip. A half-inch long device came out. “Oh, my god,” she hissed. Dropping the microchip on her car, she shook her hand as if to rid herself of whatever evil was attached to such a thing. Her mind spun violently, like an out-of-control merry-go-round. No person should be chipped and tracked. But it drove home Brooks’s previous point: he was valuable to them. If Dr. Leonetti had invested that kind of money to trace him, they intended to make more off him in their possession. Hate boiled beneath her skin.
Blood rolled down the back of his neck and beneath his shirt. She grabbed some gauze and mopped up the droplets. Then she removed a butterfly bandage from her bag, pulled the skin together, and fastened it. “There.” She exhaled a tight breath.
Brooks stood and picked up the microchip. “Those fuckers.” He held it between his thumb and forefinger, turning it around. He dropped it to the dirt and smashed the chip with his foot. “Let’s get out of here before they track it again.”
She stood and brought her body close to his, breaking the boundaries of personal space. Her chest hovered inches from his ribcage. If someone had done to her what had been done to Brooks, she’d be a wreck. Without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around him. His body stiffened and then relaxed. Laying her ear to his heart, the thumping started to slow. His hands rested tentatively on her back, as if he were afraid to truly soak in her affection. “I’m sorry for what they did to you.”
His fingers twitched on her spine. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
“How many others are there?”
Brooks’s hot breath stirred the hair at her temples. “From what I know, a lot of his subjects don’t make it past the first trial. But I’ve never met any of the others.”
She peeled her cheek from his shirt but didn’t pull away. “How is that possible?”
“He made sure I didn’t come into contact with anyone I could form an alliance with.” His jaw rocked back and forth.
She lifted her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “I promise you’ll get them back.”
His eyes sparked, and then some of the anger fizzled. “You’re not going to talk me out of killing them?”
She stared at the base of his throat, where the material of his shirt rested. She’d witnessed the skin beneath. The scars, the bruises, the proof of confinement. What she hadn’t realized until now was the depth of his trauma. A week ago, she would have said “two wrongs don’t make a right.” Now, that sentiment didn’t apply, and in Brooks’s case, it was na?ve of her to think anything less would be sufficient.
He deserved to know the men who’d hurt him couldn’t touch him again. He deserved to close his eyes and sleep without his body jerking with nightmares, to not be fighting a constant battle, whether he was awake or asleep. He deserved peace. And if that meant Conrad Hornick and Dr. Leonetti didn’t have the opportunity to hurt anyone else, so be it.
She looked up and his baby blues collided into her, stealing her breath. He was guarded and tormented, but his eyes told the stories of his soul. His gaze searched hers, screaming for her acceptance.
“I think you need to do this.”
His mouth softened. “Good. Mind if I drive?”
“Not at all.”
He scooped up the keys from the hood, and she returned her medical kit to the trunk. After getting in the passenger seat, she clicked her seatbelt buckle into place and opened her phone as Brooks settled himself behind the wheel. Pulling up the search she’d saved of Conrad, she flicked her gaze to Brooks. “He lives in Seattle.”
“Yeah? That’s where we’re going then. Are we heading the right way?”
She tapped the screen of her phone. “Yup, we just need to continue West. Is Seattle where you’re from?”
He started the car and pulled onto the road. Silence filled the vehicle. She was pushing his memory, but the need to know more about him strummed inside her.
“Must be.” His words broke through the air. “Of course, I can’t be sure, but I remember living near the water and mountains.”
“You spent a lot of time outdoors?”
He tilted his head toward her. “Only a guess.”
She nodded slowly, taking in his physique. “Well you’re awfully tanned. Even for someone who hasn’t seen a lot of sunlight for months.” She tripped her gaze down the tapered length of his legs—man, even those were stacked to carry his large build. “And you’re in excellent shape.” Her throat tightened on the words, almost stopping them. She coughed to clear her passageway, but heat sprang to her cheeks. Sliding her gaze cautiously back to him, she saw a smile lingering on his mouth.
“There’s that interest again.”
She opened her mouth to protest and snapped it shut. “Anyway. Glad we figured out where you might be from. Family?”
He slid his hand to the top of the steering wheel, and the skin over his knuckles grew thin from his grip. She’d touched a nerve. “Sorry. I’m just hoping—”
“It’s fine. I feel like... I don’t know.” He sank a hand in his hair. “Whenever I think about family, I get this stabbing sensation in my chest and all I can associate it with is grief.”
“Maybe the reason Conrad took you is because of your family—revenge?”
His mouth solidified into a line. “Could be.”
“That doesn’t sit right?”
“I feel like I had something they wanted. Or knew something.” He growled and pounded the heel of his palm on the steering wheel. “Fuck! I hate not remembering. Everything I need to know is locked inside my head.”
She ran her fingers down his forearm and back up. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “All we need to do now is get to Seattle. Everything will come back to you. You just need to let it happen without forcing it.”
He merged onto the interstate. Catching her fingers in his, he squeezed. “Thanks.” He rested his elbow on the console, not letting go of her hand. His touch should have made her hesitant. Instead, it sent a trail of fire from her fingertips to her loins. His tattooed knuckles against her pale skin put every bad-boy fantasy she’d ever had to shame. Since when did she want a guy who was tatted up, strong and ruthless enough to crush another man’s neck, and carrying a wounded heart?
And how in the hell had that combination become so freaking attractive? His thumb brushed over her index finger, sending a jolt to the apex between her legs. Good god, she needed to get laid. And not by Brooks. Definitely not.
He needed restitution, and she needed to see him through this unscathed for her own benefit.
A blue car flew up beside her window. She pressed her back further into the seat and tightened her hold on Brooks’s hand. “Watch that guy in the Lexus. He’s—”
Brooks yanked away from her hold. “What’d you say?” he barked, whipping his head toward her, his eyes lit with shock. Their vehicle drifted into the other lane.
She shot forward and caught the steering wheel. “Brooks!” she screeched.
He shook his head. His hands trembled as he brought the car back into their lane. Hitting the emergency lights, he changed lanes then bumped onto the shoulder, skidding to a rapid stop. She lurched forward, catching the dash.
“What happened?”
He ran his hands over his face. “Something you said—it—it triggered something. Fuck.”
She flipped through the events in her head. “I told you to watch the other driver.”
“No.” He tore his hands from his face and wrestled himself free of his seatbelt. “Something else. A name.”
The moisture left her mouth. He could be suffering another withdrawal symptom. She had to calm him before he did something to hurt himself. She rested one hand on his shoulder, the other on his thigh. His skin was so hot it singed her palms. “Brooks, listen. I think it’s the drug working its way out of your system. Why don’t you let me drive and we can go rest somewhere?”
“No. Say it again.”
Seconds ticked by. His gaze never left the windshield. Cars whipped past, and the wind shook her car as if it were a toy. She rolled over her words carefully. “I said to watch the guy in the Lexus. That’s it.”
The air changed in the vehicle. Brooks didn’t move, but his chest rose and fell wildly. Sharp hisses came from his nose. Every exhale pierced the air. His chin quivered. She leaned closer, catching his face in her hands and turning him to her. Tears misted his eyes, making the deep irises shimmer like clear glacier water.
“I have a sister,” he said on a breath. “Alexis.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.
She pulled his head to her shoulder and held him. God, he was remembering. He had a sibling. Someone who was looking for him—someone who probably thought he was dead.
Please, God, let his sister be alive.