Hide My Thoughts: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Book (Hide Me Series 2) (13 page)

Curling herself into a tiny ball in the back corner of her little cell, Jordan heard the sicko psycho step away from her door and she scrambled that way on her hands and knees. She couldn’t believe she was in this mess, about to die, about to be shot and tortured, all because she hadn’t been paying attention last night. She’d been so angry - fuming really - at Blaise’s insensitive remark that she had driven home almost blind, then stalked out of her car without so much as a look around. Her place had been quiet and dark at 1:30 in the morning, and she had been muttering to herself and looking at the ground. Out of nowhere, she’d been slammed in the side of the head and then she didn’t remember anything until she woke up here. And now Katerina was here. And it was all Jordan’s fault. She knew she’d been the bait.

Jordan lifted up the little slot in the door and peeked out, trying to see what was going on. Katerina was handcuffed to the chair, her face red and twisted in anger or concentration - Jordan couldn’t tell which - and Mr. Big Shot Asswad Killer was staying far away from her. Like he was scared of her.
Ha! Not so big shot now, are you asshole? If one tiny woman tied to a chair scares you!

As Jordan watched, even as she taunted this jerkwater in her mind, Katerina’s head flew backwards and she screamed. Jordan heard power and strength in the scream, and suddenly she was a little bit more scared. If Katerina had the ability to blow the entire place up with her mind, Jordan believed she would do it.

As the scream echoed off the four walls, making Jordan wince and clap her hands to her ears, she saw a glowing yellow light erupt from Katerina’s head, then cover her entire body. It flowed down her, not like water, but more like an electrical current. Jordan’s eyes went wide and she pressed her face against the slot in her door. Was Katerina on fire? The glowing yellow light shot down her legs and onto her feet, then sizzled through a puddle of water there, making it smoke. It followed the puddle in an instant and then jumped or arced through the air like an animal, catching on to Mr. JerkFuck’s foot as he walked. Jordan saw him stumble, like the light had ahold of him. It raced up his leg and enveloped him as surely as it was enveloping Katerina. He looked down, dropping the needle and the key out of his hands, then rubbing, then gazing at them in wonder. He stopped and turned towards Katerina, holding up his hands towards her. Her screaming stopped, but she held rigid in the chair, her face a rictus of single-mindedness.

“Yes! Yes!” the sicko crowed, throwing his head back like Katerina. Jordan saw smoke coming off of him. He clenched his fists and screwed up his face in pain, then tried to jerk his body backwards.

“What are you doing? It hurts!” he shrieked. “No! Stop it! You’re doing it wrong!” Jordan slitted her eyes against the bright light, which seemed to grow in intensity. The sicko psycho’s voice seemed garbled now. He kept shrieking and screaming, but Jordan couldn’t understand a word. The water on the floor of the room began to hiss and steam and Jordan felt a blast of heat hit her in the face.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away, even as she felt the skin on her face begin to blister in the heat.

The man seemed to be melting. His skin was waxy, and running. She could distinctly see his jaw lengthen and drop. His black gloves had melted so tight on his hands that she could see the bones through them. Even his sunglasses seemed to have liquefied and run together with his eyes. Snapping and popping and hissing sounds filled the air. His clothes began to smolder and he fell to the ground in a boneless, liquid heap, his screaming suddenly stopped.

Jordan watched, as the connection between Katerina and the partially melted man was broken. Katerina slumped in her chair, eyes closed.

Jordan let the piece of metal fall closed - it had become too hot to touch - and then pushed herself back against the wall of her cell. She hadn’t really just seen a man .... her mind cast about for what had happened. Had he melted? At least a little bit?

Silence stretched as Jordan’s mind tried to explain away what had just happened. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She tried to peek through the slot again but the metal burnt her skin. She whipped off a shoe and shoved it in the hole so she could see out. The man was still in a heap (puddle?) on the floor and Katerina’s eyes were still closed. Jordan squinted and tried to see if Katerina was breathing. Soft sounds came from the cells next to her. She heard a woman’s voice saying something in another language, then more rustling and crying.

“Katerina? Kat? Can you hear me?”

Katerina didn’t move.

Jordan started feeling her way around the door of the tiny, dark cell in earnest. She had to get out of here and help Kat.

West whipped his head from side to side. Where had Katerina gone?! He didn’t see her anywhere and the certain knowledge that she was gone forever, because he was too slow to find her, weighed in on him like a truck full of concrete. He collapsed to one knee and dropped his head into his hands, the shotgun clattering to the ground beside him. He’d failed her. After everything - all his promises and everything they’d been through - he’d let the monster get her. First he’d failed his wife, and then he’d failed Katerina. A black hole opened in his soul and West felt himself spinning down into it.

Blaise came running up behind him. “West, the floor underneath you, it’s sagging, look!”

Who cares?

Blaise pushed at him. “It’s a trapdoor. Get out of the way!”

West scrambled to his feet. If Katerina was gone, it was time for revenge. That monster Dylan Phillips would never kill another woman. West would make sure of it. He picked up the shotgun and pointed it at the boards on the floor. “Open it.”

Blaise pulled the trapdoor open and peered into the darkness below.

“We need flashlights.”

“No time,” West said, checking the safety on his shotgun, then shoving the barrel into a belt loop. He couldn’t think of another way to carry it when he needed both hands to climb the ladder. He dropped to his knees and put his foot on a rung.

“West, you promised you’d listen to me.” Blaise urged.

West looked at him. “I did. But I can’t keep that promise Blaise, I’m sorry. You probably should just get out of here - say you were never here. I’m going to kill Phillips.”

West started resolutely down the ladder and Blaise sighed. He climbed into the hole after West, his nerves on high alert, his ears straining to hear anything from below them.

At the bottom, West felt the walls in a circle. They were in a small tube. His hands found a doorknob and he jiggled it lightly. Not locked. He pulled the shotgun from his belt, then yanked the door open, not heeding his friend who was quietly hissing his name.

“West, wait!”

West rushed into the room at a crouch, hearing Blaise drop to the floor behind him. The first thing that struck him was the smell. Burnt hair and pork chops. Katerina! She was in the center of the room, slumped in a chair, her face deathly pale and slack. He rushed to her, only a small part of his mind clambering that Dylan Phillips must be here somewhere and was a very great danger to all of them.

Katerina’s wrists and bare ankles were bound. He leaned in closely and pressed two fingers to her neck, his mind achingly silent.

A heartbeat pulsed under his fingers. West looked to the ceiling of the small dirt enclosure and said his prayers of profound thanks. Behind him, he heard Blaise mutter, “What in the hell is that?”

A voice came from the far side of the room. “What… is that you Blaise?”

West looked to the wall and saw the horribly-tiny doors in the wall. Four of the little slots in the doors were open and fingers were reaching towards him and Blaise.
Oh my God there were women in there.

“West! Blaise! Get me out of here!” Jordan’s distraught voice carried across the room.

“I’m coming, Jordan, I’m coming,” West heard Blaise say, while he edged past a smoking pile of clothes and what looked like plastic pipe on the ground. Blaise pressed something hard into West’s hand and rushed to the cell. West looked at his hand. A handcuff key. He quickly unlocked Katerina’s cuffs and picked her up out of the chair. He hated the way her head draped over his arm. “Katerina,” he whispered, “Wake up, baby.”

Blaise dropped to his knees in front of the tiny door. West saw him and Jordan grasp hands. “Jordan, where’s Dylan Phillips?” Blaise asked urgently.

“Right there, right behind you, you passed him,” Jordan said, letting go of Blaise’s hand and pointing. “The key is somewhere by him. Go get it.”

Blaise looked behind him and West saw incredulity in his eyes. West felt his own soul mirror it. He turned slowly, Katerina in his arms, and looked closely at the pile of clothes and plastic. Light wisps of smoke drifted up from it, but West could see no flame. His eye traveled from one end of the pile to the other, and although his mind denied it, he could see slight proof of human form. He saw melted shoes leading to scorched pants, merging with something that could be a shirt. And at the top? A smooth PVC pipe with dirt or something on it. 

Blaise got up slowly and walked toward the pile, his face now stricken with horrified understanding. He looked around the small room and found a whisk broom in the corner. He grabbed it and prodded the pile gingerly. The top of the pile slipped sideways, revealing what had once been a face. Grotesque, shiny, bug eyes were the most prominent feature. The nose looked melted. The mouth gaped open, but way too big for a normal mouth.

West turned away. He didn’t want to see any more.

“What happened to him?” Blaise asked.

“Katerina fried him.” Jordan said simply. “Now get me the fuck out!”

Blaise found the key and picked it up, very careful not to touch Phillips. He unlocked Jordan’s cell and she crawled out, then barreled into him, hugging him. Blaise wrapped her in his arms and murmured something to her West couldn’t hear. Jordan stood still and quiet, her head on Blaise’s shoulder, and West realized she was crying.

“What happened to Katerina, Jordan?”

Jordan lifted her head and wiped her eyes. “I don’t know. She’s been like that since she fried him. She was OK before. He didn’t touch her. He was scared to.”

Jordan grabbed the key out of Blaise’s hand and went down the row of doors, unlocking every one of them. Women started crawling out into the light.

Blaise shook his head and West could see his wheels turning, trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to his boss. Blaise grabbed his phone and started making calls.

West pulled himself from a fitful sleep, trying to figure out what had woken him. The door to the hospital room was still closed. The soft hum and beeping of the hospital instruments were the same. He lifted himself slightly out of his chair and looked at the bed where Katerina had lain, motionless for four days. But she was sitting up.

West shot out of the chair and crossed the room. “Baby, are you OK?” he asked her softly.

Her left hand floated upwards and touched his face gently. West felt the skin there grow hot instantly. “I want to go home, West.”

“OK, I’ll take you home. Tomorrow. The doctors have said there’s nothing wrong with you and you have to be moved to long-term care but if you’ll stay awake, I’ll take you home.”

“Can’t stay awake. Take me home.”

Katerina dropped her hand and her torso drifted lightly back to the bed. West tucked her back under the blankets and pulled the pillow firmly under her head. Her eyes were already closed.

***

West jumped out of the back of the private care ambulance and watched as the two orderlies carefully maneuvered Katerina out of the ambulance on the gurney. They wheeled her to the elevator at the far side of the building and took her up to the second floor. West ran ahead of them and put the key in the lock of her apartment, letting them in.

“Take her down the hallway and put her in the bed.”

He wasn’t set up to give her twenty-four hour care as they had in the hospital, but he hoped desperately that once she was home, she would come around a little. If not, he would hire a nurse. He already had one on stand-by, but he could feel Katerina didn’t want anyone here but the two of them.

She’d been in a coma of unknown origin for two days when they first got to the hospital. Each piece of equipment they'd tried to use on her, like a heart monitor or oxygen saturation monitor, had blown a fuse or started smoking during those two days. Even the ECG machine waved its needles crazily causing the technician to pull it off of her in fear that it would break. But that had faded, and eventually they'd been able to take all her vital signs, right around the time she'd started waking up for a minute or two at a time. West had refused to leave her side and touched her as much as possible. She hadn’t responded at all, but he persisted.

Blaise had had his ankle treated, and Jordan had gotten an MRI but her injuries weren’t serious. Police had been in the room constantly for those first two days, asking West question after question. After they finally left, Katerina had become slightly responsive. Enough that they had been able to take out most of her invasive medical equipment. But she still wouldn’t talk or open her eyes. Not until she had asked to be taken home.

West followed the orderlies back to the bedroom to supervise them putting Katerina on the bed. He didn’t want her jostled or treated with anything but the utmost care. When they finished their work to his satisfaction he shook both their hands, thanked them, and showed them out the door.

He returned to the bedroom, and found Katerina had pulled her covers up to her chin. He smiled lightly and laid down with her for the first time since the night she disappeared. He draped his arm over her and felt her shift slightly.

For three more days, Katerina stayed in that state. She would drink water if he asked and drink the protein shake if he asked, but she wouldn’t open her eyes, and would only use the bathroom once she thought he was asleep. Sometimes he got the sense that she prowled the apartment while he was sleeping. She didn’t want to talk to him - to anyone. She wanted to be left alone. When Jordan and Blaise came to call she never gave any sign that she even heard them, although Jordan swore Katerina squeezed her fingers when Jordan held her hand.

West rarely knew if Katerina was sleeping, or laying silently, blocking out the world. The only time he was certain she was asleep was when she had the nightmares. She would thrash and moan and sometimes yell out pleas to an imaginary foe. It was during these times that he wondered if she knew Dylan Phillips was still alive. A mangled mess of grotesquely-liquefied skin and organs, but alive nonetheless. He’d been moved down to a teaching hospital somewhere in the Southern part of the state. West didn’t care where or what they were doing to him. The official story was that he had been electrocuted, but he wondered if anyone believed it. He hoped they did, for Kat’s sake.

On the fourth day he had her home, she was in the grip of one of these nightmares, just as dusk was falling. West heard her cry out and ran down the hallway to her. Her eyes were open but stared right through him. “Tell the doctors he needs stronger antibiotics,” she whispered, grabbing his hands tightly.

“Who?”

“Frank Phillips.”

“Baby, I’m sure they are take-”

“Tell them! Call the doctor and tell them!” she cried, her face anguished.

“OK sweetheart, I will, but after you calm down, OK?”

“OK.”

She laid back down and her eyes closed immediately. West waited several moments, then walked out to find his phone. He felt silly calling the hospital, but he had told Katerina he would.

He called the hospital and waited on hold for twenty-five minutes while he made himself a sandwich in the kitchen. He finally got Dr. Neil on the line. “Dr. Neil, I’m sorry to bother you, but Katerina wanted me to call and tell you Frank Phillips needs stronger antibiotics.”

“Indeed he did, but we started him on vancomycin three days ago. He’s responding well, much faster than we ever thought he would. In fact he’s sitting up today.”

West nodded, not feeling happy about that at all. “Thanks Doctor, I’ll tell her.”

He hung up the phone and turned to tell Katerina.

Katerina stood at the entrance to the kitchen, her soft, long shirt hanging off of her loosely. He was struck by how much weight she had lost since he first met her. But she was awake! His first thought was to offer her his sandwich.

His smile died on his face as he noticed the look in her eyes. An angry, haunted look. “Tell me what?”

“That they started Frank Phillips on vancomycin. He’s doing well.”

“What in the hell did you call the hospital for?” she snarled.

West’s first thought was anguish. This wasn’t Katerina.
God, couldn’t they catch a break? Couldn’t she recover from all of this and get her normal life back? Why did this have to keep happening to her?

“You asked me to Katerina.”

“I didn’t ask you to. You knew I didn’t tell the doctors and you thought I should have, so you did it behind my back,” she spat out, advancing slowly towards him.

West watched her stalk him and took an involuntary step backwards. The power in her gaze! She was tiny. Almost half his weight. And yet she could maim with her … with her what? Her mind? Her will? Looking in her eyes at that moment he almost believed she could kill with a thought.

West didn’t take another step backwards. He stood his ground and tried to put all of his love for her on display. Maybe she could fry him like she did Dylan or turn him into a vegetable like she did Frank, but he wasn’t going to run from her. She wouldn’t choose to do that. And if she did? He would never turn a hand against her. Never.

Suddenly Katerina leaped towards him. She grabbed a steak knife off the counter and arced it in the air at his head. He ducked, involuntarily, feeling it whiz past him. A hand went to his head, rubbing. She hadn’t cut him, but he hadn’t ducked fast enough. She should have cut him.

He didn’t know why she was doing this. She could have taken the top of his head off just now, but she didn’t. She was still standing arm’s length in front of him, the knife in her hand, her eyes deadly and fixed on him, her chest heaving with the force of her breathing.

West made his decision and prayed he wasn’t about to die. He put his hands behind his back. “Go ahead Katerina. I won’t fight you. I won’t duck again. If you want to kill me, you can.”

She stared at him under her lashes, her breath forcing heavily in and out of her lungs. West thought she’d never looked so beautiful.

“I love you Katerina.”

His words broke her paralysis and she flung herself at him, knife poised overhead. West stood still and bared his neck to her, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his fingers and toes. Her forearm thudded heavily on his shoulder and then she opened her hand, the knife clattering harmlessly to the floor behind him. She was on him, kicking and biting and hammering her fists on his chest and his arms and his face. West stood still and took each blow.

Her fury started to abate and tortured sobs wracked her. She raked his neck with her nails on one side of his head and kissed his ear on the other side, the kiss turning into a bite. He felt blood flow.

She cried and she screamed and she smashed her body into his like a battering ram. West welcomed each hit. He would try anything to get his Katerina back. His wonderfully strong and smart Katerina, who would tease him then soothe him with a warm smile. The air around them crackled slightly with her energy. He thought he saw sparks in her hair.

Finally, her rage fully spent she collapsed into him and West encircled her in his arms.

“You still love me?” she asked him, her voice an excruciating whisper.

“Always.”

“Even after everything?”

“Even because of everything.”

“Even though I’m a freak?”

“Even though you’re a miracle.”

The tension drained out of Katerina and she collapsed into his chest. West held her close and stroked her hair, feeling her body tremble.

"I don't know what's going on with me West. I can't control myself. I ... there ... there's something really wrong with me," Katerina said, anguish in her voice.

"You can control yourself. You just proved you can. You didn't stab me did you?"

"But I acted like I was going to! I yelled at you and hit you! I just want this to be over. I just want to feel like myself again."

Katerina's body sagged in his arms and he held her upright.

"You will, I know you will. Agnes can help. You've never gotten a chance to talk to her, but you can now."

"I just don't like not feeling in control. Feeling like someone else. Treating you like that."

"I know baby, I know," he murmured, so glad to have her talking and sharing what was going on in her head. Things were finally over - really and truly over and if she could just see that, just realize it, she could concentrate on getting better.

He kissed her forehead lightly, and Katerina turned her face to smile hesitantly at him.

He felt the tension of the last week pop like a bubble, and saw the old Katerina looking at him through new eyes. She'd survived, made it through, and come out stronger. He could see the knowledge of it in her eyes too. A new awareness passed between them, lightly, like a kiss. They'd done it together. He thought she looked achingly beautiful.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips softly against hers. She pressed back, and stiffness seemed to flow back into her body. Her fingers scratched at his back and she thrust her body against his, increasing the pressure in their lips. West broke the kiss and looked at her, concerned. She looked back, fire in her eyes, but a different kind of fire.

"It's over, isn't it?"

He nodded. She was reading his mind. He needed to remember that she could do that.

"For real this time?"

"For real this time. Get ready to go back to a boring life."

"That sounds heavenly," she sighed, the fire still in her eyes.

She curled a hand around his head and pulled him back to her, claiming him as her own, a low sound in the back of her throat. He felt his body respond instantly, and Katerina felt it too. She ground her hips against him and ran her hand up and down his hard length. Her touch was maddening and irresistible. “Katerina,” he groaned, wanting her so bad he throbbed and ached.

She recaptured his mouth, then put her hands on his shoulders and leaped lightly, wrapping her legs around him. He caught her easily and took a step towards the bedroom.

“Take me West, fill me, fuck me, make me yours.” West groaned again. She’d never used words like that before. The hot images spurred him on and he wanted to run, to throw her on the bed and do as she wanted. He felt pure, animalistic lust driving him. They made it to the bedroom and he tried to set her down on the bed. She held on and pulled him down on top of her. He kicked off his shoes and joined her happily, reveling in the heat pouring off her. She was hot. Literally and figuratively, and he couldn't wait to sink himself inside that hotness, bury himself in it. His cock jumped and twitched, begging to be let free.

She kissed him expertly, with force, and bucked beneath him, arching her back and grinding their cores together. West sucked in a breath, trying to hold himself back. She was so hot, she was pushing him over the edge without even getting his clothes off.

He pushed her shirt over her head, then off and onto the floor and revealed her delectable body, perfectly shaped breasts, curves in all the right places, and a pair of tiny pink panties pulling him in like a bulls-eye.