“Mason. Reid,” Laurel yelled from the truck. “I’m done. We need to go.”
“Deal?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Mason conceded. He laid his hand on my shoulder, slapping the drenched material. “You were over there with Laurel. How is Lorna?”
“Alive. That’s all that matters. Unconscious and injured. Laurel is going to call for the doctor once we have cell service again. She said Seth has a mini-clinic back at the ranch.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice setup.”
We began walking toward the car and truck.
Christian and Romero were still standing in the rain.
“You can put her in the trunk or leave her in the back seat,” Mason said to the capos. “Take her to the main house. We need to do an ID.”
“I thought you said—” Romero began before wisely deciding to stop his verbal thought. “Yes, Mr. Pierce.”
Christian stepped closer. “If you’re serious about the options, a two-hour trip would be better if she were in the trunk. I have blankets and plastic back there.”
For just such an occasion, I thought.
Good capos were always prepared.
It was kind of like the Boy Scout motto for killers.
“I honestly,” Mason began, looking again into the back seat, “don’t give a shit if you drag her with tow chains. Just get her back there. We need to get Mrs. Murray back for medical treatment ASAP.”
“We’ll meet you there after we do a little wrapping,” Romero said.
“No dragging,” I said to both men as Mason walked away, hoping they recognized Mason’s poor attempt at sarcasm or dark humor.
The capos nodded.
As we approached the truck, Mason asked, “Are you...good?”
“Fuck no. But my wife is alive. For that, I’m thankful and ready to pay a debt.”
“A debt?”
“Every second she was missing, I offered to trade my soul for that news.”
“No, man, I know what it’s like to lose your humanity—”
My steps stopped. “I know what Sparrow said. We’re getting Lorna whatever help and attention she needs. We’ll get her back to Chicago, and then...”
“We will kill the sons of bitches that took her and Araneae,” Mason finished. “We can do that without giving in to the dark. I’m telling you it’s a shitty place. Once you give in, it’s fucking hard to come back. Take it from me.”
My head shook. “Spare me the details. I have a wife to avenge, with or without you.”
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
When we reached the truck, Laurel was in the front seat and Lorna was wrapped in the blanket, lying across the back seat. Near her head was a second smaller blanket. “Is it okay if I move her?” I asked.
“Yes,” Laurel replied, peering over the front seat. “You can lift her head to your lap. Put the other blanket under her head. I want to keep her as warm as possible.”
I did as Laurel instructed, sliding onto the seat and gently lifting Lorna’s head. She didn’t utter a sound as I covered my drenched jean-clad leg with the second blanket and cautiously lowered her head.
Laurel smiled as Mason started the engine. “That’s great,” she said. “Now you can monitor her breathing and pulse as we drive.”
“What if she wakes?”
“I gave her something to help her sleep. It’s best for healing.”
As the sky continued to fill with flashes of lightning, rain fell, winds blew, and thunder roared. For the first time in days, I had a small sense of purpose and power. My wife was alive. I had her beautiful body beneath my protective grasp. It was more than that; the poisonous venom that had settled in my veins was no longer foreign. In the short amount of time it had been present, it had taken up residence, giving me focus.
My wife would heal.
My wife would live.
Others would die...a slow and torturous death.
The feeling of impotence that accompanied the kidnapping was gone. In its place, dark reigned, and while other people could accompany me on this quest, as I gently stroked Lorna’s tangled red locks, I vowed that I would prevail or die trying.
Reid
Four days later
I stared up at the ceiling, my vision accustomed to the dimness of our bedroom. The red numbers glowing from the bedside stand read a little after two. That would be two in the morning. Beyond the blinds, through the windows, and above the Chicago light pollution, the sky was dark.
For the last two hours I held my wife close to my chest. Her petite body melded perfectly to mine, her soft ass pushing against my semi-erection that with her proximity refused to disappear. Its presence didn’t matter—as far as I was concerned, sex was off the table for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her or that she hadn’t expressed desire for us to be as one—I did and so had she. The reason for our current state of abstinence was my concern for her comfort.
I refused to cause her any more pain.
Lorna’s recent nightmare vied with my myriad of thoughts. She imagined her mother, describing her as she was—is. It was that revelation that had my mind in knots. I should talk to Mason, but I refused to leave her side as long as she slept. Slumber had been difficult for her since she woke from her ordeal. While she claimed her memories were nonexistent, the dream she described told me that they were very near the surface. And then there were the signs she didn’t know she was exhibiting.
I watched her as she startled at the sound of a wake-up alarm or a timer in the kitchen. I saw the way she jumped when a knock came to our door or hesitated before entering a dark room.
With my arms surrounding Lorna, I was her shield, her protection from future danger. If that would allow her to rest, I would stay by her side for hours on end.
The familiarity of our bedroom, the one we’d shared for nearly a decade, combined with the way her breathing came in steady breaths could lull me into a false sense of ordinary as if this were any other night, and with simply closing my eyes, I could join her in peaceful slumber. It was as if I could forget that her world had been annihilated and her sense of safety demolished.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
While there were minutes I’d fallen asleep, each time I woke to Lorna’s gasps or cries, and I berated myself for letting her down. Again.
My plans for revenge were growing. Such as a flickering spark, as I stared into the night, my thoughts added fuel to my need to destroy. At Lorna’s side was my only connection to humanity, the piece I’d clung to since we found her on Mason’s land. It was a small slice because when I was out of her presence, the dark thoughts inside of me flourished, festering beneath my skin.
Another check of the clock let me know only fifteen minutes had passed.
Similar to Araneae Sparrow, Lorna’s memories of the last two weeks were gone to her conscious mind.
Not gone, Laurel explained.
The recollections were masked, hidden away in an unmarked location within her brain. According to Laurel, erasing memories completely was rare. Instead, they were stored in a difficult-to-access location covered by either a true traumatic occurrence or a chemically induced cloak. The formula that Laurel had been working to recreate strived for the result she saw in Araneae and Lorna. Whatever drug was given to Mason many years ago had succeeded in concealing all of his memories. It worked until the right trigger removed the veil and brought back the memories.