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Hana is the easiest way to refocus my anger. Victor Petrovich abused her for years, then when he died, Rick Ivanov took up the mantle, drugging her, using her for porn, and then blackmailing her with it. Hana spent years in therapy, and she’s still scarred by what they did.
Second best is the horse doping racket, which is why Hugh has Training Day. That beautiful horse was tortured, forced to run on injuries, all so those assholes could line their pockets and pay their bookies.
“Give it to me!” Rainey’s voice is a broken cry, and I sit up again, panic twisting my chest.
The sound of rustling sheets, the clink of the handcuff jerking against the table leg, another cry. “No, no, no!”
I throw back the blankets, swinging my feet out of the bed and dropping to my knees on the rug. She’s on her hands and knees, eyes closed as she digs in the pallet, throwing blankets aside as she frantically searches for some invisible thing, hampered by her arm attached to the nightstand.
“Please, please…” Her voice is shattered, and in the dim light, I see tears on her cheeks. “It’s all I have.”
Crawling closer, I put my hands on her shoulders. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wake people in the middle of a nightmare, but I don’t know what else to do.
“Rainey, wake up.” My voice is quiet but firm. “You’re having a nightmare.”
She lifts her free arm, slapping me away. “Don’t touch me.” Again her voice cracks. “I know you did it!”
She’s crying, and my instinct is to pull her close, hold her and tell her she’s safe, I’m here. Only, that’s not what we’re doing now. She crawls to the back wall, scooting as if she’ll get behind the furniture, and I decide maybe it is.
Crossing the blankets, I pull her to me, away from her hiding place. I turn her so her back is against my chest, and she shivers in my arms.
Wrapping her tighter in my embrace, I speak in her ear. “Wake up now. You’re having a dream.”
My voice is gentle, calming. Her body stiffens, another shiver, and I shush her again, sliding my hands up and down her arms. My face is in her hair, and the faintest scent of jasmine still clings to her tresses.
A sob jerks her body, and her head turns to the side suddenly. “What’s happening?”
Relaxing my hold, I’m reluctant to let her go. “You were having a nightmare.” My voice is quiet. “A pretty bad one from the sound of it.”
“Oh, God.” Her body goes limp in my arms, her head falling forward. “I’m sorry.”
Clearing my throat, I force my arms to release her. “No problem.” I push into a sitting position beside her, and she reaches for the blankets.
Thunder rumbles low on the horizon, and I feel the shift in my chest. It’s not okay, and nothing is forgotten. I rub both hands over my face before pushing off on my knees.
“Get some sleep.”
I return to the bed, but wind and rain rage all night. I don’t sleep, and I can’t tell, but I don’t think she’s sleeping either. At some point before dawn, the storm passes, and I manage to nod off for an hour or two.
The glow of the dawn rouses me, and I slide out of bed, staggering down the hall to make coffee. This day is critical. At least this evening is. While I wait for the coffee to drip, I return to the bedroom. Rainey is lying on her side with her back to me, so I decide to let her sleep.
I take out my phone and text Scar and Hutch.I’ll be on the cams. Somebody call me so I’ll have audio.
It doesn’t take long for Scar to text me back.We’re meeting at five before customers arrive. I’ll call. How’s our prisoner?
My thumbs fly as I answer.No problems here. All prepped for backup.
I get a thumbs up, and I walk over to pour a cup of coffee. I’m settling in when I hear a voice calling from the bedroom. Walking down the hall, I push the door open to find her sitting up waiting.
“Sorry to bother you. I need to use the restroom.”
Bending down, I unlock the cuff from the furniture and straighten, offering my hand this time as well as holding the other end of the bracelet. I won’t let her roam free or give her the chance to bolt. I’m not an amateur.
At the same time, I feel certain she’s not going to run.
When I hear the flush and the noise of the sink in the half-bathroom in the hall, I return to meet her. Then I lead her to the kitchen and lock her to the chair.
“Coffee?” I hold up a mug, and she nods. “Sorry, we’re all out of cinnamon.”
