Bent (The Gifted Series) (7 page)

              She glanced about the space before dropping her head and giving it a disheartened shake.

              “Then there’s nothing to be sorry about.  Got it?”

              Inhaling a resolved breath, she wrung out the wash cloth and offered a sad but determined smile. “Got it. Now let’s finish up here.  With any luck we’ll have food within the hour.”

Chapter 5

“Any word, Irish?” Smits asked as he, Marnie, and Leah joined Declan and Mattis in the conference room.  Declan glanced up and his expression said it all.  No word.

              “Yes, it’s been two weeks,” Leah began, “but I won’t give up the belief that Carter is alive.  Joss didn’t kill him, Dec.”

              “I know you’re certain of yerself, but it was a direct hit.”

              Leah leaned over the table and grabbed Declan’s hand.  “I’m sure of what I felt, and I felt the presence of multiple gifted—Joss, you, and Carter.  He wasn’t dead.”

              At this moment Tiago and Bo walked into the room. 

              “Anything encouraging?” Mattis asked, “Give me something.”

              Tiago, Bo, and Ray had just returned after four days of working with the northern Cal region and the agency in Salt Lake City. 

              Bo could recall every detail of the inside of the facility or house, as he claimed it to be, where he’d been held captive but only had vague recollections of the outer area.  He did recall temperatures and topography similar to what you’d find in the northern regions of the US: evergreens, mountains and rolling hills, bitter cold, snow, rain, but also warmer temperatures that lacked humidity.  It was these subtle clues that they were using to narrow their search.  All northern districts and outreach locations were on high alert, scouting remote locations for any sign of gifted activity or odd occurrences.

              Tiago spoke up, “A gifted civilian in Southern Oregon contacted the Northern Cal region with information about sensing numerous auras near Medford.”  His eyes immediately focused on Leah, and she didn’t miss his subtle frown as she released Declan’s hand.  He was an admittedly jealous boyfriend and overbearingly protective after seeing her latest injuries from Joss’ attack, even though Leah was healing quickly without complications and had full range of motion in her hand.  However, the healing process did slow her gifted abilities down, but this was a normal reaction to injuries of any sort, and was also why she and Declan had been forced to stay behind while everyone else traveled about on search missions, actually contributing to the case. 

            
  Resentful much
? Leah mentally snorted.

              She noted how Tiago quickly masked his irritation before offering her a personal greeting, stalking straight to her side.  The two kissed as he inquired about her health. 

              Bo continued toward Mattis, “Tiago and I are heading south in the morning.  We should be in Medford by early afternoon.  We checked with Northern Cal, and their data base claims a few gifted are on file in that area, but not enough to warrant the claim of a high concentration of auras in one given location.  Sounds suspicious.”

              Mattis nodded.  “Good plan.  I think I’ll join you.”

              “What?”  This complaint came from Reagan, who strolled in wearing her exhaustion on her shirt sleeves.  She didn’t stop walking until she reached Mattis‘ side.

              He wrapped his arm around her, and she sighed as if relieved to be wrapped in his embrace. “You heard me,” Mattis began.  “You’re staying here to guide the flock for a few days.  Besides, you need a break.” 

              For once Reagan didn’t argue.  After what had happened, she’d been in twenty-four seven work mode, traveling to different agency headquarters and hadn’t spent one night at home with Mattis.

              He gave her a skeptical eye. “What? No argument?”  

              “I want … no let’s make that
need
a couple of nights in my bed.  Preferably with you in it, but if all I can get is tonight, then I’ll take it.”

              Mattis smiled seductively toward his wife. “And that’s my queue leave. Someone relay the latest information to Carter Sr and Casey.  They’re worried sick, so let’s keep it positive.  I’m backing Leah’s claim that Carter is alive; his folks need all the positive feedback we can offer.”  The two began to walk off and he halted suddenly. “Marnie, give Felix and Jamie a call.  They’re not due back from Canada for another week.  Fill them in on everyone’s whereabouts.”  They continued toward the exit and without turning, Mattis gave a final warning, “Unless we’ve made contact with Carter or found Patrice Landon, no one better be stupid enough to knock on our suite door.  Understood?”

              Everyone chuckled, muttering compliantly.

*     *     *     *

              Joss paced her cell.  Two hours had passed and they hadn’t returned Carter. 

              They’d been bunking together for a week now, and he’d been healing at an accelerated rate.  She knew it was a mere matter of time before Patrice came for him, demanding information and using whatever brutal means necessary.  They’d done the same to her.

              She glanced at the pallet of blankets on the floor.  They resembled packing blankets you’d rent from a moving company.  Hell, that’s probably what they were.  The gurney they’d wheeled him in on had been removed, so she’d suggested they share the bed, but he wouldn’t think of it.  Chivalry perhaps?  At least this was what she told herself, unable to admit that he truly thought her a homely Olive Oil—one so homely that he couldn’t stand the thought of lying next to her. 

              If only she felt zero attraction for him, this would make their living situation tolerable.  But as it were, she’d grown to appreciate his presence.  Although she tried to refrain from openly displaying her neediness, she felt it.  She rationalized that she’d been alone too long, hungering for human interaction and casual conversation, and this was probably true, but if this were the only reason, then why did his looks affect her so? Why did his occasional smiles make her skin tingle and cheeks flush? 

             
Because you’re falling for him, ya git
! She growled with frustration.

              She heard the basement door open and spun.  The shuffling of feet coming down the stairs followed.  She saw three shadowed figures reach the bottom step, and she immediately knew the one in the middle was Carter by the way they dragged him along.  A grimace cut across her face, recalling the times she’d been returned in the same manner.

              A curse slipped, feeling his pain.  He’d gotten a good taste of what Patrice’s lackeys dished out. As they grew near, she recognized one of those said lackeys as Stephen. He specialized and got off on torture treatments—his favorites being water torture and electric shock.  Nice combo.               
 

 
He gave her a wicked smile and drawled, “Joss.” 

              Bile rose.

              He continued as Samuel opened the cell door, “It’s been a while since I’ve worked you over.  I do so miss your screams.  Straight from the gut and so full of pain.” A sinister chuckle as his eyes perused. “I must say, I miss other things as well.”

              Joss kept her poker face intact but inwardly shuddered at the memories of him
working
her over.  Although she couldn’t hear it, Carter must have muttered something offensive because Stephen reacted with a backhand, sending Carter straight into Samuel.

              “Enough!” Samuel barked toward Stephen, cutting the zip ties at Carter’s back and thrusting him into the cell.  With disinterest, Samuel shut the door and wheeled away, stalking off toward the stairs.  Stephen’s gaze lingered for only a moment.  The minute he turned and headed for the stairs, Carter collapsed to his knees, drawing in steady, deliberate breaths.  He was beaten and looked bone-tired.

              “Sick fucks,” he grumbled.  Reaching up, he ran a hand through his disheveled blonde hair.  His one good eye focused on her—the other was almost swollen shut, and she noted the bandaging around his left hand.

              Joss stepped forward. “Let’s get you to the bed.  No arguments.”

              Carter allowed her to help him up.  “Wasn’t about to.”

              He eased down on the bed, wincing slightly as he scooted back so he could lean against the wall.

              “You should lie down,” Joss stated.

              “Don’t want to,” he muttered flatly in return.

              Joss didn’t argue but instead walked toward the sink and grabbed a plate off the edge.  She felt his eyes on her the entire time.  “Here.  PBJ’s again but they added fresh fruit—a banana.”

              “Not hungry,” he grumbled, understandably angry.  There had been so many nights she’d felt rage drive her to the brink of insanity.

              “You should eat,” she tried again, pacifying. “You need to keep up your strength. It’ll help the healing process.” 

              Silence.  She sighed a “Carter.”

              “Not
fucking
hungry!”  The words bellowed through the small space, causing Joss to flinch.  “You eat it!” he continued. “Look at you. You need it a helluva lot more than I do.”

              She flinched again and quickly turned.  Another direct hit at her waif like appearance.  She’d never been this thin before, but it wasn’t like she had a hand it. 

             Don’t let his comment affect you so.  If she could only stomp out of the room and separate herself, but she was stuck and wanted to do the unthinkable—cry.   And she knew exactly why.  Being with Carter over the last week had slowly began to turn her human again.  He made her feel; they’d talked, laughed, joked, and it ignited feelings in her that she’d bottled up and shoved aside.  So yes, she wanted to cry ... for him ... for herself … for both of them.

              She stood with her back turned, fighting back tears, and unsure how to proceed.  Finally, she cleared her throat and grabbed a wash cloth.  After soaking it in cold water, she wrung it out and turned, steeling her emotions.  She then grabbed the plate.  “You’re eating the food while I clean you up.”

              His expression hardened as she approached, but she didn’t care.  She thrust the plate toward him, and with one quick swipe, he knocked it free from her grip, sending it flying across the room.  Without thought, she cursed and threw the wet washcloth at his face.  He responded by sending the washcloth across the room to join the plate and food.

              “Gawd, yer a stubborn arse!” she bellowed, but got no further reaction from him. 

              Finally,  he spoke low, “How do you do this?” 

              She glanced quizzically.

              “How can you tolerate this, day after day?” He inhaled and exhaled deeply, intending to calm.

              Mentally she scoffed at his complaint.  He’d barely gotten a taste of the misery that she and many others had suffered. 

              “For almost two fucking years, Joss? How...?  How do you deal with this?  I’d rather be dead than suffer this indignity day after day.” 

              Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she gave him her back. His comment cut deep.  Even though she’d planned her death many nights over, his words slashed what was left of her pride.  Did he think her soft and weak-minded?  A nothing so easily controlled? This felt worse than being homely.

              A mental grimace. Maybe I am these things.  Maybe someone with true strength and self respect would have had the courage to off themselves rather than slave themselves.  But then she heard the tiny voice screaming from within. A voice that had never faltered. One that defended, “But I want to live.”

              She was quiet for a moment, then solemnly approached the edge of the bed.  Defeatedly, she sat and answered, “It’s called survival, Carter.  I’m left with no other choice, and neither are you.”  Right then the lights went out, leaving them in darkness.

              Silence stretched.  Soul-crushing silence that dripped of hopelessness.  At this realization, Joss couldn’t believe she was about to say these words.  Clearly he thought her unattractive and apparently weak, but the loneliness of almost two years without a welcomed touch provided courage.  “Would you lay with me?” Even though she couldn’t see him, she glanced over her shoulder. “Purely platonic, of course—just a warm body next to mine.  Just … the warmth of another.”

              More silence.

              She began to rise, embarrassed and awkward. “Sorry, it was a daft request—”

              “Yes.” His deep voice resounded throughout the small space. “I think we could both use a little warmth.”

              Her heart fluttered, and she heard him shift on the bed, creating a spot for her.  Carefully she joined him, lying in spoon formation.  Even though the cell remained at typically comfortable levels, the warmth resonating from his body was a heat she longed to absorb.  This may be platonic, but she needed this man’s touch, and it appeared he needed hers too.               

              “Thank you,” she whispered.  A smile instantly bloomed when she felt his arm ease over her side.  Although he didn’t shift his body any closer, he did lay his palm on her taught tummy.  Excitement flourished as she snuggled into the mattress while giving thanks for the darkness because she couldn’t halt the smile at her lip or the tears that escaped her eyes.

    *     *     *     *

              It took everything Carter had not to pull her slight frame firmly against his, but even beaten he knew if he did, he would sport instant wood.  A mental scoff—he’d been secretly sporting it all week, greatly appreciating the medical scrubs he’d been given to wear.  And no, he hadn’t been an outright tool, gawking at her like some lewd thirteen-year-old desperate for the latest Victoria Secret Mag.  He’d been polite, turned his back while she showered, offering privacy, but the close proximity of her naked body meshing with his wild imagination was insta-wood.