Chapter 21 Retribution #2
"I'm okay. Are you? Is it over?"
"Yeah, it's over."
She tried to stifle her sobs, but he heard her weep softly, and his own tears flowed again.
His heart ached for everything she'd been through, and he mourned the innocent girl she had been two weeks ago.
But it was over, and they'd be safe and together.
He promised himself he'd take care of her, pay more attention, make sure she knew how much he loved her.
He promised to do better than he had before.
With a rough voice, he assured her, "It's okay, Nat. We're both safe now."
"Okay. Okay," she answered, clearing her throat.
"I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Okay," she answered, her voice still raw. "See you soon. And Tris?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"Love you too," he rasped, then handed the phone back to Cade. "Thank you."
"Of course. Let's get you inside."
When Cade lifted him into his arms, Tristan snuggled into the warmth. Being carried was a bit ridiculous, but he was still weak, and he had to admit, it was kind of nice to be pampered after the ordeal he'd experienced.
As Cade carried him to the house, they passed by a quiet huddle consisting of Tag, Rodriguez, Taylor and two other guys, while Pearface and Glasses sat tied to chairs, glaring murderously. Tristan felt perverse satisfaction at seeing his captors trussed up, just like they'd done to him.
Inside, Cade sat him down carefully on the oversized sofa and ran his hands over Tristan's body, checking for injuries and freezing when he reached his wrists. Tristan looked down to see the raw, red skin, then up to see the other man's eyes burning with rage.
"It's fine. It only hurts a bit. The numbness was the worst part."
Cade scowled fiercely as he began massaging each wrist in turn. "Did they hurt you anywhere else?"
Reaching up to feel his temple, Tristan gently assessed the bump on his head, finding it smaller than he imagined. "He knocked me out, maybe hit me with a gun. I think I might have a concussion."
Another wave of fury contorted Cade's face, but when he felt the injury himself, his fingers probed gently. "I'll get you something for the pain, and I want to have Taylor take a look. He was a medic in the army."
"I'm fine, I think. But I'm thirsty. And hungry."
"I still want him to check you out. Stay put."
Poking his head into the garage, Cade called to Taylor, then disappeared from view. Tristan listened to him moving around behind him, opening and closing cabinets and the refrigerator, in what must be the kitchen.
When Taylor came into the house, he asked Cade, "What's up?"
Cade returned to the sofa and handed Tristan a bottle of water and two granola bars.
"He got hit on the head, maybe with a gun. Can you check him for a concussion? I'm going to find some painkillers."
As Taylor sat on the sofa next to him, Tristan greedily gulped down the water, pretty sure he could drain a lake and still not feel full at this point.
When he set the bottle aside, Taylor leaned closer and studied his eyes, told him to follow his finger, then asked questions about headache, dizziness, nausea and vomiting, confusion and memory loss. Since Tristan only had a headache and some nausea, he felt pretty sure he wasn't seriously injured.
Cade returned from elsewhere in the house and handed Tristan ibuprofen. "Is he okay?"
Tristan popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down with the rest of the water, then started chowing down the granola bars, happy to finally have something to relieve his hunger.
"Yeah," Taylor answered. "Possibly a mild concussion, but no signs of anything serious. Probably a good idea to get him checked out anyway."
"Thanks, man."
Taylor headed back to the garage, and Cade took his place on the sofa and pulled out a tube of ointment.
As Tristan watched Cade apply the salve to his injured skin, memories of the similar scene at the cabin came flooding back, and his eyes misted once again.
He really didn't mind being taken care of so tenderly, not now, not when he felt so drained and shaky.
He decided he could really get used to this treatment.
Hopefully, he would have that chance.
As Tristan's eyes watered again, Cade finished with first aid and carefully pulled Tristan's sleeves down over his injured wrists and looked up.
"Hey, you okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," Tristan choked out. "Thank you for taking care of me."
A faint blush stained Cades' cheeks as he nodded and pulled his hands away. "Why don't you lay down and rest?"
As he stretched out on the sofa, Tristan was thankful for the comfort but felt the weight of both physical and emotional exhaustion pulling on him. Kneeling beside him, Cade gently pushed auburn bangs off his forehead with one hand, while the other rested possessively on his thigh.
Sighing, Tristan let his eyes fall closed and just breathed for a moment while he enjoyed the warmth of Cade's touch.
"How did you find me, anyway?" he murmured.
"Annabeth found the coordinates where they were going to transfer you, and we originally planned to get you there.
But then the Handler called the driver we detained.
You remember, the guy Tag and Young followed to the house?
So, the Handler wanted the driver to take you to the exchange, and he gave him this address as the pickup location. "
"That's good, really good."
"Yeah," Cade agreed with a hitch in his voice that had Tristan wondering just how much the situation had affected the other man. Too weary to have that conversation at that point, he promised he'd get the whole story from him later.
"So that guy in there is the Handler? I wondered."
"One of them is, yeah."
"I think it's the pearfaced guy. The skinny one called him 'boss'."
"Good to know."
It occurred to Tristan that he'd been smart not to tell Pearface that they'd followed a van to the house where they held Natalie. If he had told him, the Handler might not have called that driver.
And Tristan might be dead.
Vowing to push away the 'what-ifs,' at least for now, Tristan sighed again and grasped at Cade's hand on his thigh.
"What else do you need? What can I do?"
"I'm okay. I'm just so freaking tired."
"Okay, then. Rest while I take care of these bastards, then I'll bring you to your sister."
Tristan's eyes snapped open again. "Oh, you mean... "
Cade's face hardened, and his eyes glinted with ruthless determination. "I promised you I'd make them pay for what they did, and I will."
Setting his jaw, Tristan said, "Okay. Do what you need to do."
"I will. They'll never hurt anyone again," Cade promised as he grazed his lips over Tristan's knuckles.
From across the room, Tristan heard someone clear their throat. Both he and Cade turned to see Tag standing in the doorway to the garage, looking annoyed.
"Ready?" Tag asked.
"Yeah, are the other guys gone?" Cade asked, apparently choosing to ignore the other man's irritated expression.
"Yep, just left."
"Where did they go?" Tristan asked.
"They rode with the driver to the drop point to see if they can grab the Gem Collector or his people."
"How are they going to do that? The Handler said to show me before they made the transfer."
Tag's voice dripped with disgust, like the words themselves personally offended him. "They put Rodriguez in a red wig."
"Oh my god, for real?" Tristan said, chuckling.
One side of Cade's mouth turned up, and he cupped Tristan's jaw. "Rest now. Let me do this for you."
"Okay," Tristan agreed, letting the smile fade. Once Cade joined Tag, he lay on his back with his hands folded on his stomach. Hearing voices from the garage, he peeked over and realized the door was partially open.
Oh, god, was he going to be able to hear everything? Did he want to?
Tristan debated for a few heartbeats and decided he did want to listen, at least at first. If it got too bad, if he didn't want to hear any more, he could close the door or move into another room. He stared at the ceiling, concentrating on the low voices to make out what they were saying.
When Cade spoke, the cold, menacing tone unsettled him.
"So, here's the deal. There is no scenario where you walk out of here alive.
You have two choices. You answer our questions, and we'll put you down easy with a bullet between your eyes.
You don't cooperate, and well... My friend and I have lots of sharp, pointy objects, and sometimes we get clumsy, and oops, there goes an ear or a finger or a dick. Understand?"
There were low murmurs that Tristan couldn't decipher, and then Cade's voice rang out again, clipped and businesslike.
"Which one of you is the Handler? What's the status of your operation?"
"It's shut down." Tristan recognized Pearface's voice, but it was now thin and reedy.
"Completely?"
"Yeah."
"Where do you keep your records? Client list? Transactions?"
"The Broker had all that stuff."
"Are you sure about that?" Cade demanded ominously.
"I have some of it," Tristan heard Glasses offer in a shaky voice.
"What's your role?" Tag asked.
"Online auctions, messaging, vetting clients."
"What else?"
"N-nothing. Just comms."
"Where's your information stored?"
"On the laptop in the house. I can show you."
There was no immediate response, but Tag entered the house, disappearing outside of Tristan's view. A moment later, he passed by again, carrying a laptop. He paused briefly, looked at Tristan, and asked, "You okay?"
Surprised, Tristan answered, "Yeah, I'm good."
Nodding, Tag continued to the garage, leaving the door ajar again.
"What's on here?" Tristan heard Tag ask.
"Messages and requests, info for the auctions, images of product."
"How do we access it?"
"It's encrypted."
"You're going to tell our people how to access everything on this and the Broker's laptop. Got it?"
"O-okay."
After a few seconds, Tag said, "Annabeth, this guy's going to tell you how to access the laptops," and then after a brief pause, "Tell her."