Bent (The Gifted Series) (16 page)

              Both rushed in and began unstrapping him.  Bo muttering cracks about the tenderized state of his face.  “Going for that cubed steak look I see?  I here it’s popular with nurse-types.”

              “Put a sock in it, Bo,” Mattis barked.

              Bowen continued, “Just tell ‘em you’re an MMA fighter.”

              Mattis thrust the keys in Bowen’s palm.  “Free the rest and lose the cracks.”               

              As soon as Carter was released, he rolled off the gurney, slowly getting right with the vertical world.  “I knew you guys would find me, but what the hell? Did you take a vacay to Cancun to strategize?”

              Mattis countered flatly, “Good to see your stay at the
Patrice Hilton
hasn’t altered your witty disposition.”

              Carter huffed, following Mattis out. “How do you think I survived in this hole?”  But Carter knew he survived through twenty-five percent humor and seventy-five percent Joss.  He needed to get to her, that is, if she’d been returned.

              Mattis halted, waiting for Bowen and the remaining captives. He clapped his arm on Carter’s shoulder. “Glad you did survive.  And you’re going to have two very relieved parents, by the way.  Not to mention sisters.  Camille was threatening to take off and start looking for you herself.  Stubborn girl that one.”

              Carter could only smile.  There wasn’t a thing that the Thompsons wouldn’t do for each other.  He felt a stab realizing that there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for Joss too.

              Mattis continued, “Now let’s get moving.  Samuel isn’t sure how long Patrice’s remaining men will be gone and we’re not chancing it.”

              “Samuel?” His voice incredulous.

              Bowen and the rest joined them as Mattis stated, “Yeah, long story, but it’s a good one that you’ll enjoy later.” They all began to stride down the long corridor.  Mattis glanced over his shoulder. “Let’s just say that, once again, Leah’s up shit creek.  Only this time Declan joined in her shenanigans.”

              This struck Carter as odd.  Declan was a rules-man.  Bowen’s next comment distracted though.  “Hey,” Bowen barked, “I think you’re forgetting a very important rabble-rouser.”  Bowen thumped his own chest indignantly before shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around the female captive.  “Where are the rest?” he asked her. “It’s not like Patrice to have so few.”

              The woman sniffed, wiping what they knew were tears of gratitude. “Five maybe six left with her a few days ago.”

              As they rounded a corner, Carter saw a familiar set of stairs.  He looked off to the right, recognizing one of the rooms that lay beyond as Stephen’s playroom.  “We gotta get to the other set of stairs?”

              Bowen gave a curious glance. “I didn’t know there was another set.  Where were you being held because Patrice holds everyone here?”

              Carter shook his head.  “They held me in the basement, but I was kept with the woman who shot me.  Her name’s Joss.” 

              “We’re aware of Joss,” Mattis added. “Being that she’s Dec’s cousin, we’ve learned quite a bit about her.”

              Carter halted in his tracks, dumbfounded. “Declan’s cousin?”  Why hadn’t Joss mentioned it?  But before he received a response or could contemplate one on his own, he darted off, hitting the stairs three at a time. All his thoughts prayed that she’d been returned and wasn’t still being held by Stephan.  Rage fumed at the mere thought of the man’s name, and then the images flashed … and the sounds. Man, the sounds of her with that man haunted his dreams.  He knew it wasn’t
his
Joss enjoying the act, yet the sounds she made were more than convincing.

              He burst through the door at the top of the stairs and was met with blinding light. Throwing his arm up to block, he spun around and tried to familiarize himself and remember where Clip had led him. 

              As he tore off through the house with Mattis on his heels, he ran smack-dab into Leah.  “Carter!” her arms instantly flew around him, and even though his mind bellowed “Find Joss!” he hugged her back.  It struck him hard just how much he’d missed her—she was as good as a sister to him.  He released her abruptly though, while muttering, “The basement. This way.”

              As if reading his thoughts, Leah declared, “Joss has been found.” The somber sound of her voice halted him in his tracks. He pivoted to face her.
 
Fear for her safety lurking about.

              “What’s happened?”

              Her head shook, eyes worried.  “We don’t know.  Declan, Tiago, and I found her unconscious, but there was a lot of blood.”

              “
Blood
?”
 
Whoever harmed her was as good as dead. “Who did this … that fucker, Clip?”

              “No, Carter.” Leah replied perfunctorily.  “It was an obvious self infliction.  She must have attempted suicide.”

              Time halted at the words.  Leah had to have made a mistake. There was no way Joss would do such a thing.  All the time she’d spent suffering and swallowing the shit they’d thrown her way.  Why now would she go this route? He’d repeatedly told her that the agency wouldn’t stop searching. 

              Seconds ticked as realization crept the edges of his thoughts.  Carter wielded away from everyone’s view; he ran his hands through his matted hair and came to grips with the fact that he may have been a trigger in this tragedy.   He battled the urge to throw up.

              “Where is she?” His voice gravel.

              Leah eased closer.  “I can feel your grief, Carter.” She paused. “It may be none of my business, but did you have a relationship with her?”

              Carter mentally cursed, remembering how adept Leah was at reading emotions.  Surely she felt his pain.  Sighing, he attempted a brush off, having no desire to explain himself.  He went with half truths.  “Sort of, yes.  I mean we were kept together; obviously I care about her wellbeing.  She’s suffered greatly at their hands.”
And mine too
.

              Mattis spoke. “Tiago and Declan took her to the hospital.  Her pulse was faint and she needed blood, but she should pull through.”

              Bowen entered the room. “The other captives are in the van.  The C4 is set.  We need to get our asses out of here.”  He snarled at his surrounding. “Too many memories I don’t want to rehash.”

              Mattis nodded. “Right. Let’s go.  We’ll head north tonight.  T and Dec will transport Joss some time tomorrow.”  He gave a hard sigh.  “We’ll save killing Patrice for another day, but at least we’ve taken out some key men and get to do a little collateral damage.”

              As they walked out, Carter mumbled under his breath, “At this moment, I couldn’t give a damn about Patrice, but Stephan is mine.”

              Leah flicked him a curious glance, but Carter offered no explanation, nor would he discuss what went down between himself and Joss, or Joss and Stephan.  That shit was private and for her to divulge—not him.  He wouldn’t rest, however, until Stephan took his dying breath.  Then, he’d go bat-shit on Patrice and protect Joss from any future retaliation. 

              Joss would have a long road of healing ahead of her, but he swore an oath that if it was the last thing he did, he’d ensure her a smooth and beautiful ride. 

              Mentally sighing, a lingering thought taunted.  He questioned whether he should be walking the long recovery road with her or bowing out and letting her forget and start anew.  He was a memory of a horrific time.  She needed peace, and he’d caused her pain by insinuating her cowardly.  He’d never been as ashamed of himself as he was in this moment.   

              He felt a hand at his back.  “You sure you’re okay?” Leah’s eyes wore concern.

              “Quit
feeling
me up, Leah.” He went for a crack.  One that didn’t sound convincing, so he  continued with, “I’ve been shot, locked up, and smacked around for weeks on end; my emotions are high.”

              She nodded, turning her attention elsewhere, but Carter knew she wasn’t buying his excuse, and that’s what it was, a cover up.

             
Chapter 11

They’d been at camp for five days, and although Joss was physically on the mend, her mental state filled Declan with worry.  He knew that all wounds ran deep and typically carried tangled stories, so he hadn’t pressed, but he desperately wished there was something more he could do or someone she would willingly confide in him about.

              At least she was communicating, and that’s basically how one would define it—no emotion involved or sharing of pleasantries.  Instead, it was totally contrived BS.  Joss humored them, pacifying with answers, but she preferred to be left alone.

              Declan thought of at least one positive: after a couple of days in camp, they were able to halt the special sedative that helped Joss refrain from using her gifts.  Apparently many gifted despised the drug due to the fact that it also kept one in a semi-drunken state with slurred speech and slower reflexes—not how any gifted desired to spend their waking hours.  However, for many it couldn’t be avoided because, like Bowen, it would be close to a year before Joss could willingly use her abilities without fear of Patrice’s hypnotics being able to track her. 

              Declan wasn’t remotely worried about her ceasing to take the sedative.  His cousin was an expert at controlling her gifts, and being that she had such a rare ability, Declan assured everyone that she’d been controlling her gift for years.  If he was being completely honest, he’d admit that she’d always despised being gifted, though he had never understood why. 

              Hand him a dull blade, and he’d gladly hack off his left hand for an ability that she would gladly give to the lowest bidder.  It dumbfounded him.

              He rounded the corner to her room, a steamy cup of chamomile in his grip, but he came to a stop as Carter pushed himself off of the wall directly across from Joss’ door.

              “Hey,” Carter nodded, sporting his newly acquired gloomy disposition.

              Declan returned the greeting, eyeing
gloom and doom
curiously.  This was the second time he’d caught Carter lingering about her door, and Marnie mentioned that she’d noticed him hanging around too, so Declan knew these trips to her door front were frequent, but when he asked Joss if Carter stopped in, she always shrugged an aloof no. 

              He understood that Carter would be concerned—they were held together for nearly a month with only each other for solace, but he suspected something happened.  Something more profound than two strangers trapped together with hours of down time between them.  Carter’s behavior was completely off, and sure, the man had just been held against his will and beaten profusely, but Carter had received the same rigorous physical and mental training as the rest of them and had previously suffered injuries that were typical of any experienced agent.  The man was by no means a weak-minded pup; he had mental stamina.  There was something more going on here.

              Declan reached for Joss’ door knob. “Ya comin’ in?”
 
He opted to go for casual.  

              Carter shrugged. “Nah, I’d hate to disturb her.”

              With that, Declan released the knob and straightened his shoulders.  “Mate, you’ve been tight lipped since yer return, and I understand if ya don’t want to hash over bad memories, but I’d like to think you cared enough to physically check on my kin, not sulk about her door.  Yer startin’ to piss me off.”

              Carter’s expression appeared shamed, but he quickly covered with a mollifying smile. “You’re right.  I’m sorry, man.  I just didn’t want to embarrass her with the … incident that happened.”

             
Ahh
, Declan thought,
maybe that was it
.  “Aye, the suicide.”

              Carter recoiled slightly, but Declan didn’t make apologies for his bluntness.  It was his way and facts were facts.

              Carter cleared his throat; he suddenly appeared even more somber and a smidge fidgety. Declan bit the inside of his lip, gnawing a little and giving Carter a watchful gaze.  Had Carter—Mr. Blatant Philander (much like himself)—developed an attraction toward his dear cousin?  And if so, how’d he feel about this?

              Dec’s pseudo protective German Shepherd reared his ugly head wanting to snarl, but he brushed it off for the time being.  He had far too many other concerns to deal with.  One being the mental state of the woman in the other room.  The one awaiting the steaming cup of tea in his grip.  “Come on,” Declan said and wheedled around, turning the knob and pushing through.

              “Sweet cuz, I brought your favorite.”

*
   
*
   
*
   
*

              Joss sat in a daze, mindlessly gazing out the window in the comfy chair Declan had brought from his room.  Hours she’d spent mentally revisiting happy moments: memories of her youth, time with her parents, watching heaps of distracting movies that Declan delivered, and doing her damnedest to avoid negative introspection about the last two years of her life.  Particularly the time spent with a blonde stunner who hadn’t once dropped by to offer a measly “how are you?”  But then again, did she really want him to? 

              Humiliation rode her hard for all that she’d done, which was now compounded by the fact that she survived her final attempt to end her connection between herself and Patrice. 
Bloody hell
, she couldn’t even manage a successful suicide.  Maybe Carter’s choice to stay away indicated just how humiliated and shamed he was by her.

              Yes, it’s good that he’d all but forgotten her.  Now just as soon as Declan made contact with family friends in Ireland, she could arrange safe passage and all but forget him too. 

              “Great plan and an utter lie,” she grumbled.