I throw the garage door open and run inside just as Mr. Gibson tackles me to the ground. I scream out as my shoulder smacks against the concrete.
“Not so fast, whore.”
“Help! Someone help!” I scream out. His hand covers my mouth, muffling my plea. I bite his palm, and he releases his hand. I tilt my head to the side to scream out again when I see them. Mom and William. Bound and unconscious in the corner.
“You had a good thing, whore. Now, you’ll have nothing.”
His fist rears back and smashes into my nose, creating a world of darkness around me.
Chapter 17
Catalina
“Your mom’s gonna be home late again. Want to order in and watch a movie? Your pick.”
His playful smile is tantalizing, addictive. Sometimes, I think it’s meant for only me. “You’re gonna let me pick? The last couple of times, you fought me.” Like every other time, he ignores the open seats on the other couch and takes up the space next to me. Our thighs brush as he sits, but he doesn’t make a move to create space between us. He hands me the remote, and I accept it, hoping to hide the faint shake of my hand.
“I’m feeling generous tonight. Pick something you’ve been dying to watch.” He gazes down at me, and I know his words have another meaning. To tell him what I want. Finally, show him. My stomach clenches with indecision. With desperation. My skin sparks with the need to be touched. Seen. He sees me. He shouldn’t, but he does.
The tension between us is so thick, I feel strung out around him. I want to cross the line with him. Give him exactly what he wants. What I’ve become obsessed with. His secret touches. Intimate glances. This is wrong. I shouldn’t allow it. But I don’t know how to stop it.
The television flicks on, and I turn it to a particular station. Soft panting echoes from the TV as I feel Kenneth tense beside me. “You told me anything I want. I want this.”
His eyes are glued to the screen where a man is ravaging a beautiful young woman. It’s dirty and sexual. Hot and disturbing. “What are you doing?” His strained voice heats my core, and I push further.
“You can change it if you want.” His dilated eyes fall to the remote in my hand resting against my thigh. Reaching out, he covers my hand with his. But he doesn’t take the remote. He skims upward until his large palm rests against my bare thigh.
“What are you doing, Cat?”
I bite down on my bottom lip, and my body starts to hum under his touch. I spread my thighs wider. His heavy intake of breath jolts me, and I fight not to push his hand farther up my skirt. My sex throbs. The arousal I feel is tinged with shame, but I can’t stop it. I won’t. I need this.
Like I knew he would, he takes the bait.
His hand, large and warm, presses harder onto my thigh. “Is this what you want, sweet girl? For me to touch you?”
My voice is broken. I can’t work up the words to beg, to plead. I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to tell him exactly what I want from him. My lips part as I wet my bottom lip, aching to have his lips on mine. I need to know what he tastes like. Are his lips as soft as they appear? Guilt and lust swirl in my stomach like a tornado as I lean forward. His eyes dilate as my body begins to shake with need. He inches forward, slowly, teasing me. His heated gaze is locked on my lips. Slowly, he leans down—
“What in heavens? Catalina, what are you doing!”
Catalina…
Catalina…
“Catalina. Fuck, wake up. Cat!”
The memory suddenly fades away, disappearing into the darkness of my subconscious as I’m jarred awake by the muffled sounds of my name. A sharp blast of pain radiates from my shoulder, and I moan out in agony.
“Cat, thank God. Cat, look at me.”
I hear his voice, but I struggle to see. “Where—where—?”
“I’m right here. Follow my voice.”
He’s to my right. I shift to my side and cry out in anguish. “Shit,” I hiss, trying to cradle my shoulder, but my wrists are tied. I fight through the dizziness and pain, forcing a slow, deep breath. I take in my surroundings. It’s dark. The cement floor is cold. The faint smell of chlorine lingers in the humid air. The pool. We’re in the swim coach’s office. Through the dimness of the room, I spot a silhouette a few feet away slumped over. “Hunter?”
“Yeah, are you okay? You’re hurt.”
“My shoulder. I think it’s dislocated.”
“Okay. Anything else? Did he hurt you? Did he—?”
“No. I don’t think so. Or I don’t feel if—”
“It’s fine. He’s gonna be back soon. We’ve gotta get outta here.” The thought of facing him again sends me into a fit of hysteria. My chest burns. My body begins to tremble in fear. “Cat, look at me.”
“He’s crazy. He’s going to kill us. He’s going to—”
“No, he’s not. Because we’re gonna get out of here. Cat, fucking look at me.”
I try to focus on him. Through the shadows, I can see his face. Blood. “Hunter, you’re bleeding. Oh my God. What did he do to you? He told me—Mom and William—oh God, Hunter, he did something to them. I saw them in the—”
“Listen. We’ll figure that all out later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Are you able to sit up?”
I try to sit up but fall back, howling at the tearing in my ribcage, my shoulder again slamming into the hard ground. White spots blind my vision, and I fight not to throw up from the pain. “I can’t. It hurts. My ribs—”
“Cat, yes you can. You have to fight. If we don’t, we’re as good as dead.” My body convulses, a shudder of fear shooting down my flesh at the idea of his hands on me again. “You gotta try. Try!”
Hunter’s stern voice reins me in. I suck in a deep breath and count to three, fighting through the stabbing pain in my ribcage. Clenching my muscles, I push myself into a seated position.
“Yes, good job. I need you to slide over to me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tied to a desk. You’re not.” Pulling in every ounce of willpower I have, I scoot toward him. With every inch, I silently yell. Any type of movement is pure agony. “There you go.” I maneuver so my back is resting against his side, and I blindly search for his hands until I feel them. Frantically, I tug at the knot.
“It’s stuck. I can’t get it. I can’t. He’s going to come back—”
“Cat, breathe.”
“I can’t! He’s going to come back and, oh wait, I got it—”
“Well, aren’t you two cute? I see you’ve finally woken up.” My head cocks back at the sound of his voice. My fingers scurry, trying to pull at Hunter’s restraints, but a wretched scream bellows from my throat as Mr. Gibson shoves his fist into my hair and heaves me backward.
“Let her fucking go!” Hunter yells, but Mr. Gibson only laughs.
“You should have let her go. You both wouldn’t be in this situation if you kept your disgusting hands off her.” He drops me, and I crumble at his feet. “What kind of filth fucks his stepsister?”