Taken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Third Season (28 page)

“
B
randon
.”

I could hear her—I knew it was my imagination. It had to be. I was dead, and there was no way she was talking to me now. But I loved hearing her voice, even if it was imaginary. I could smell her and feel her—and that had been more than enough for me before. But if I got to
hear
her, too? Fuck, death wasn’t half bad. If I could
see
her, too …
that
would be something. But I couldn’t see a damned thing. My eyes were open, and there was nothing but blackness. If I wasn’t dead, I knew I would be able to see. And it was impossible that I was blind. I had to have died in that torture chamber.

But I could get used to this death thing. Especially if I could make my arms move and feel what I knew was her body next to mine. Being able to make love to her—I knew it was probably too much to ask, even if there was a god. But fuck, that would have been awesome. It would have been the perfect way to spend all eternity.

I told myself then that if I ever got to talk to the big guy upstairs, I would make that suggestion. That would make the afterlife totally worth going through the hell on earth I had been through.

Eternal, mind-blowing sex would have been amazing, but I was content to keep what I had been given. Three of the five senses—and who knew? Maybe I could taste, too. I hadn’t tried it yet.

So I decided to try. I buried my head again in what could only be described as the best scent I had ever had the pleasure of smelling. Jen’s hair. It was fucking ecstasy. Okay, not as great as sex, but close. And I kissed her hair, fully expecting there to be nothing there but the great void of nothingness that I had been so sure before today was the afterlife. But it wasn’t nothing. It was … hair. I could feel it on my lips. I couldn’t feel much else, but it was definitely her hair.

I didn’t need to taste it to know. Jen was there with me. Dead.

The first thing I felt was my heart drop—I didn’t want her to be dead. I was supposed to protect her from that. But then there was something different—the heavy, heartbroken feeling in my chest changed in an instant to the fluttery, floating feeling that happened whenever I looked at her. So we were dead … so what? She was here with me. And now there wouldn’t be any more complications. Death was going to be fucking magical.

“Brandon. You aren’t dead.”

I smiled. Jen was as sweet as they came. The eternal optimist, at least most of the time. She had believed in me, even when I hadn’t believed in myself. She might have pushed me away on more than one occasion, but she had always taken me back. Even when I had screwed up so royally that I didn’t
deserve
a second chance, she had taken me back.

I would explain that to her. I would make her understand that I had meant well—that some things had been out of my control, but that I had never meant to hurt her. Or to get her involved. And being dead was going to solve so many things. Being together after death was a fate I never could have imagined—and now none of the complications mattered. She would never have to know what I had become in real life. Or maybe she knew everything now—I hadn’t really had a chance to let my mind wander enough to tell if I had been given some new, eternal wisdom, too. Maybe everything would just
be
… and we could just lie here together like this for all eternity. This was going to be more than enough, even if this is all there was.

“Brandon?” Her voice was more concerned that time, almost as though she was questioning my sanity.

I felt her hand on my hip—and she slid it up my abdomen to my chest, feeling my heartbeat like she had done a thousand times before.

“Brandon? Can you open your eye?”

Eye?
I had thought my eyes
were
open. But I was sure she had used the singular form of the word. Eye, not
eyes
.

“Do you hurt? They gave you something—I can see if I can ask them to give you more…” Her voice trailed off and I could hear something other than concern there. Sadness—guilt, maybe.

She had nothing to feel guilty about. I was the one who had gotten us killed. And there was no pain in death, so why was she asking?

I’m not sure if it was the narcotics wearing off or if it had just been the question itself. Whatever had been fogging my brain, making me think I was dead, seemed to snap off in that instant.

I opened my eyes—eye. I was pretty sure the other one was swollen closed, the result of the butt of the gun hitting me on the side of the head. Nothing hurt, though—whatever they had given me afterward was working, at least for the moment. As the memory of the beatings and other … things … crept back into my mind, I almost wished to just go back to feeling dead. I would be able to get past the memories of what had happened eventually. Maybe. I wasn’t supposed to be affected at all by that kind of stuff, anyway. But whatever it was that had changed in me when I had met Jen had probably changed my ability to deal with the torture-type of stuff, too. It had all been locked away in the same place in my mind—and when it was opened, it was like a Pandora’s box of sorts. Opening that space for Jen had opened it for everything else, too. I hadn’t tolerated Ryan stabbing me very well—it had taken me months afterward to lock
that
shit away. And I knew it was going to take a hell of a lot longer this time if I was even going to be able to get over it at all.

I heard a groan, and it took me a moment to realize that it had come from me.

I lifted my head to try to see where I was and instantly regretted it. The throbbing started then—first in my temple, then in my face. And then I felt the throbbing, searing pain in my ribs—what was left of them. My groin still ached from the nut shot I had taken, too. It was like a switch flipped instantly—I went from feeling almost euphorically dead to feeling like I
wished
I had been killed.

I groaned again, trying to turn myself onto my side. Seeing Jen would make me feel better—I somehow knew it would. It always seemed to make everything better, and I knew this was no exception. Seeing her when I had been nearly dead in the hospital the last time I was in this kind of shape had been the only thing that had saved me at all.

And when her gaze met mine, it was just as I had hoped. The pain was still there—it hadn’t even really subsided. But I knew I could deal with it if she were here. If she would just stay here with me this time, we would both get through this. Whatever it was.

She lifted herself onto her arm, folding it under her head to look at me. She wasn’t smiling, and I saw her press a hand to her stomach. The tension left her face and her eyes were almost shining—not quite tearful. Not sad this time. Relieved, maybe.

She tilted her head, her gaze never leaving mine. She lifted a finger and traced it lightly along what I could only assume was a large bruise on my cheekbone.

I lifted my arm to take her hand and instantly regretted it. I groaned again as I felt the deep, burning ache in my chest from the ribs I was sure were broken.

She pulled her hand away, obviously thinking that she was the one who had caused me pain at that moment. “I’m sorry.” Tears filled her eyes that time—not the shiny ones of relief. This looked a lot more like guilt, and the husky tone of her voice signaled nothing less.

I tried to shake my head but was barely able to move it. Every muscle seemed to protest with any movement on my part. I lifted my arm again to take her hand—slowly this time. It still hurt like a motherfucker, but I managed to pull her tiny hand into mine. I had to close my other eye because of the pain, but I squeezed her hand as I tried to suck in enough air to be able to speak.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Jen.” I know I sounded exasperated, but it was only because of the pain.

“If I had talked … if I had just talked sooner, none of this would have happened to you. They didn’t believe me when I told them who you were. And I told them, Brandon—I did. I told them everything I knew, but they didn’t believe me. And I’m so sorry. If I had been able to tell them what they wanted to hear, none of this would have happened.”

I tried to speak, but only another groan escaped my lips. This had nothing to do with Jen. I only barely remembered that it had anything to do with
me
, but my past had obviously and finally caught up with me. It was the only explanation for what I had assumed was government involvement. They didn’t want her—she didn’t have anything to give them.
Me
, on the other hand—I had enough to sink ships. And someone must have known it.

I think I drifted off to sleep again though I couldn’t say for how long. When I woke up again, Jen was nestled into the crook of my arm, asleep herself.

I maneuvered my good arm under her so that I could see her. Touch her. The left side of my body was basically useless—the pain in my ribs screaming at me anytime I moved. But I stroked her hair for a long time, watching her sleep. Remembering why it was worth giving up everything I had worked so long and so hard to achieve.

The shit was going to come down—I knew that. It had all been shut down too quickly—someone here had to have figured out who I was. And it was going to be hard to explain to Jen. It was going to be impossible to explain, really.

She nuzzled into me, still asleep. She had murmured something before she turned her head enough so that I could understand what she was saying.

A sleepy smile formed on her lips. “I love you, Brandon.”

And even though my body felt like it had been through a wringer, I smiled. I couldn’t help it—I’m sure I was beaming just hearing those words, no matter how much I might have been hurting physically. The physical stuff would heal. It was the mental stuff that I had never been completely sure of—the numbing of my soul that they had tried to do to me. I hadn’t been sure I could ever be a man who was able to love at all—not until I met Jen. Not until I fell in love with her. There was nothing that could have happened that would have prepared me for the depth of what I felt for her. There was no other word to describe it but love. And there was nothing anyone could do to take it away, either.

I loved her. And nothing else mattered.

“
I
t’s not fair
, you know.”

He groaned every time he spoke—when he took a breath to be able to speak at all, and then again after he spoke. He had to be in a tremendous amount of pain, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. The people who were watching us were ignoring how much discomfort they had to be able to see on his face. And my heart was aching with the knowledge that I had caused him to be in this situation in the first place. If I had been able to tell them who that guy from Waterville was, none of this would have happened.

It was my fault. And I didn’t know if I could live with the guilt if any permanent damage had been caused to Brandon.

I lifted my head to rest on my arm again so I could look down at him. He had tried to shift before to be able to see me, but every time he moved, I could see how excruciating his pain was.

I winced, trying not to cringe, as he tried to cover his own expression.

“Not fair.”

“I know, Brandon. If I could take the pain away and feel it for you, I would. I’ll tell them to give you another shot when they come back in—“

He chuckled for only a second before it must have hurt too much and he stopped. “No. Not that.” His words were clipped, but not like he was angry.

My brow furrowed. “I don’t—“

He interrupted with the short, clipped words again. “You have a shirt on. I don’t.” He smiled, and I could hear there was nothing at all angry in his tone—this was his idea of a joke.

I lifted a brow, smiling down at him. “I see. And you’re saying it might relieve some of your pain if only
that
was fair?”

He nodded. “Mmmm. Wouldn’t hurt.” His good eye closed, and he smiled again to himself.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread over my face. “I suppose I should make things fair, then.” I sat up, tucking my legs underneath me so that he could watch me remove my shirt.

He opened his eye, reaching out to grab my arm before I could pull the t-shirt over my head. He groaned—I was sure he had forgotten he was hurt at all, even if it was just for the moment. But his pain returned all too quickly.

His head shook only slightly, but he was definitely telling me not to go through with my plan. He opened his eye again, glancing over at the camera mounted in the corner on the ceiling.

I looked over at the camera before returning my gaze to his. The red light was still shining, and I knew we were definitely being watched. I shrugged and pulled my shirt over my head in one fluid movement. I flung the shirt toward the corner of the ceiling, my aim somehow right on the mark. The t-shirt barely caught one of the corners of the edge of the camera, mostly covering the lens.

He grinned. “I’ve corrupted you completely, haven’t I?” He chuckled for a second before groaning again.

“Definitely.” I smiled and reached behind my back to remove my bra.

He stopped me, grabbing my arm as he shook his head, more vehemently this time. He groaned again at the movement. “They’ll be in now.” He tried to motion with his other arm but groaned again instead. “The camera.”

I looked over at the camera again before turning back to Brandon. I had no doubt that we had been being watched for the many hours we had been here, but I didn’t care. I looked into his eyes. “I’m sure those guys have seen breasts before.”

He smiled at me, and there was something almost sad in his eyes when he spoke. “But I don’t want them to see yours.”

There was something almost sweet about how possessive he was. Something charming and wonderful and not at all chauvinistic. It was just him—Brandon being Brandon.

I dropped my hand from my bra hook, nodding in agreement. I nestled next to him again, determined to just enjoy the moment while it lasted. Lying not quite naked next to him. Feeling the warmth of his body next to mine and letting myself feel loved by him as his arms enclosed me in an embrace as much as his broken body would allow him.

I pressed my ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat in his chest. There was something so soothing about that sound—something I wanted to be able to hear for the rest of my life.

M
ine
.

She knew that was true. She knew belonged to me. She knew I loved her. Every time I closed my eyes, I told myself that.
She knows I love her
.

I just wasn’t sure it was going to be enough. We had been in here for a while—in this sterile, little, white windowless room. They might have been waiting for me to wake up—or to not be in so much pain before they came in to take me away. But I knew they were going to take me. That was going to be non-negotiable now. And I knew I needed to tell her—I needed to explain what was going to happen. I owed her that much. I owed her my life—and she had no idea how much.

It just hurt so damned much to talk. And it was going to hurt a hell of a lot more—in a completely different way—when I told her the truth.

I stroked her hair again as she lay there, her head pressed against my chest. I didn’t want to tell her that it hurt like hell having her touch me like that—it made my ribs feel like they were going to poke through my skin. But it soothed her somehow, and she was going to need all the soothing she could get. And I could endure endless pain for myself if it meant I could take away any of what I knew was going to be hers all too soon.

I knew I needed to talk to her—quickly. Especially now that the camera was covered. They would be in, and if they thought I was well enough to talk, they would pull me away from her. I didn’t understand why they had given me any last moments with her at all. There must have been some delay—some red-tape holdup of a variety that only the United States government was capable of.

I finally took as deep a breath as I could muster, gritting my teeth through the searing pain in my chest as I did. “Jen.”

She lifted her head and rested it on her bent arm again. She looked down at me, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Was I hurting you?”

I shook my head, my gaze never leaving hers. I would have never admitted that she
was
hurting me. She could never hurt me as much as I knew I was going to hurt her now. “We need to talk.”

She nodded. “I know. But not now. Now you just need to rest. We’ll have time.”

“No, there’s no time left.” She didn’t understand. If we’d had time, I would have let her pull that bra off. I would have figured out a way to make love to her one last time, no matter how much it hurt for me to show my love for her. But we were out of time. “I have to explain—“

“Daniel told me everything, Brandon. And you need to know that I don’t care.” She reached down to touch my chin, stroking the length of my jaw to my ear. “Whatever it is you’ve done. Whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t care.”

I tried to grab her hand again, but I couldn’t lift my arm high enough to take it. I slumped back against the pillow in frustration. My body wasn’t going to cooperate with me, and I was just going to have to accept it. “Daniel doesn’t know anything, Jen.” I had to pause to take another shallow breath. “You need to listen. We’re not going to have much more time together.” I huffed again, trying to get enough air to get all the words I needed to say out. “And if that camera has audio, we
really
aren’t going to have much time.”

She shook her head, gazing into my eyes. “He
does
know, Brandon. He showed me your … whatever it is. Spying stuff. I don’t care.”

My brow would have furrowed if one side of my face hadn’t been so swollen. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Jen. That’s not—“

“The websites. The webcam virus or whatever it is. When we get out of here, we’ll go somewhere where you don’t have to worry about it. And the prenup bullshit, or whatever? He seemed really concerned that you were after me for my money. And Brandon—“

“Jen, just listen.” I had to take another breath, or I would have said more. I just couldn’t get enough words out with each shallow breath I was able to take.

“Brandon, you can have all of it. If that’s what you want, take it all. My trust fund, my inheritances. I don’t care. I’ve lived without money and I’ll do it again.” She pressed her lips together for a moment, tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t believe him—that money is all you’re after. I love you, and I hope that’s enough. And if it isn’t, then take it. I’m not kidding—take it all. Having money isn’t what I care about. I care about
you.
”

Fuck, I didn’t deserve her. I just didn’t have the breath to be able to explain anything to her. Not in the detail she deserved. And whatever Daniel had told her—that little fuck didn’t know anything about me. He knew the same thing about me that everyone else did—exactly what I wanted them to know.

“Jen…” Something was wrong. It was getting harder and harder to draw a single breath and I wasn’t able to even breathe at all without feeling like something was piercing the left side of my chest. But I had to tell her. I drew in as deep a breath as I could. “Jen, I love you.”

She pressed her hand against the unbruised side of my face. “God, Brandon, I love you, too. We’ll get through this. We’ll get this misunderstanding figured out and we’ll go back to the strip and find the cheesiest, weirdest wedding chapel and get married. Okay?”

Things were starting to go black. First around the edge of my eyesight, like I was looking through a tunnel. But the tunnel was getting narrower and narrower. I knew on some level that I was going to lose consciousness, but I had to tell her before I did. In case I died and never came out of it this time—she needed to know.

I grabbed the place on my chest where the searing pain was worst, bracing it as I sucked in the last breath I thought I’d ever be able to take. “Jen. I’m not. Who you think. I am.”