THIRTY-ONE
Ren’s knees ached and the rope around his wrists and ankles had rubbed his skin raw. There wasn’t a place on his body that didn’t hurt. When he’d woken up from whatever drug Gordon had given him, he’d found himself in a garage of some sort—bound, naked, and lying at Gordon’s feet. Gordon had smiled down at him, welcomed him back to the world of the conscious, and then had kicked him hard in the ribs and told him to get to his knees.
That’d been the easiest part. The pain. The beating. The cuts Gordon had carved into his skin with his pocketknife.
He could handle that. He’d learned to take that a long time ago. Pain was just pain.
But when Gordon had tried to touch him, had put his hand around Ren’s cock, his palm slick with Ren’s blood, and told him all the things he was going to do to him, Ren hadn’t been able to shut it out and take it. He’d snapped and fought back. Had spit in Gordon’s face and thrashed around and had told him what a pathetic excuse for a man he was. How disgusting he was, how shitty the sex had been with him.
Gordon had backed off at that and Ren had thought maybe he’d won. He might die but at least he’d gotten the last word.
But then Gordon had said that since Ren was being less than accommodating, he would entertain himself with Cora until Ren had a change of heart. Ren had instantly protested, but it’d been too late. Gordon had seen how the threat had affected him. That fear was more of a turn-on to him than anything else.
He’d blindfolded and gagged Ren, left him on the floor to bleed, and then went into the room next door, leaving doors open. Ren had heard every moment of the beating and rape, every muffled scream from her, every groan from him. Ren had nearly broken his hands trying to get himself free and his voice had given out from the shouting he’d done from behind the gag. He could feel the blood running down his wrists and his fingers had gone numb, but there was nothing he could do except listen to the anguished sounds and die on the inside.
She was suffering because of him. This was happening because he’d always been too impulsive, too reckless. Too cocky. He’d gotten in that car like he was going to be some kind of superhero. And when it’d come down to it, he hadn’t been able to bear what Gordon dished out. If he’d been able to take it, Cora wouldn’t be going through this. He’d never forgive himself. And the second he was free, he would kill Gordon with his bare hands. Rip him apart and watch him die.
But the sounds had quieted a while ago and there was no sign of Gordon. He had no idea if Cora was still here or how badly hurt she was or if she was alive at all. If Gordon knew she was the daughter of the police captain he wouldn’t let her leave. How could he?
And that’s when Ren realized exactly what this was. Gordon had promised to break him. This was how he’d do it. He’d tried to do it by putting Hayes behind bars. But Ren had fought back, fixed it. He wouldn’t be able to fix this.
This time Gordon had made sure of it. He would win. Gordon would always win.
Tears dampened the cloth over Ren’s eyes, mixing in with the sweat and making his eyes burn. He could feel his mind starting to break, the need to scream and scream and not stop pushing at him. She couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t let that thought enter his head. But in his gut, he didn’t know how things could turn out any other way.
Cora had been right. Gordon knew the ultimate torture—hurting and taking away the people you loved. That was what was worse than death.
Footsteps sounded against the concrete and Ren braced himself for the cool blade of Gordon’s voice, the words that would officially kill Ren for good.
But when the sound came, it wasn’t what he expected.
“Get an ambulance,” the female voice called out.
A male voice responded and a radio squawked.
Ren lifted his head.
“Mr. Muroya, I’m Captain Benning of the Dallas PD. You’re going to be okay. Just stay calm and we’re going to get you some help.”
Instantly, his voice scraped past his throat in protest, and he started to shake his head. No. No. Things were not okay.
“Please, sir, calm down. I’ll get the gag and blindfold off. Just try to be still. You’re hurt, and I don’t want you making it worse.”
Cool hands touched him. He jumped instinctively but tried to take a breath to keep ahold of his panic. Captain Benning wrapped something around him—a blanket, maybe—and carefully removed the blindfold.
Her expression was businesslike as she tucked the blanket around him, but her eyes were tense, worried. She unhooked the gag.
“Cora,” he gasped, once he could find his voice. “He has Cora. She’s . . . hurt. Please.”
The woman’s eyebrows dipped and she shook her head. “Cora?”
Ren closed his eyes, anguish rising up again. “He hurt her. Please. Help her. Find her.”
A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “Ren, take a breath. It’s okay. Cora’s okay.” Her voice had slid from businesslike to a soothing, motherly tone. “She’s the one who helped us find you. I made her stay at the station, but she’ll be at the hospital as soon as we get you there.”
The words didn’t make sense. He opened his eyes, searching her gaze. “But I heard . . .”
Her expression turned grim. “There was a woman here at the house. She was roughed up, but tried to block us from coming inside. We believe she worked for the suspect. Officers have cleared the house. She was the only other person who was here. I swear to you, my daughter is safely at the station, worried sick about you and pissed at me for not letting her come along.”
Relief welled up inside him and he felt the cracks go through him like a sheet of ice in spring. He couldn’t hold it together anymore. Cora was safe. Gordon had mindfucked him one last time. But she was okay.
They would all be okay.
He bent his head and let the exhaustion and the pain and the stress pull him under. Cora’s mother stayed by his side until the EMTs came and started working on him. He heard their voices, talking about blood loss and broken things and shock. They kept saying his name, but he couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but let them handle him.
The pain became a thing he could only recognize from a distance. A hum.
He closed his eyes and let the relief of oblivion take him.