No Control

Page 7

“Not necessarily. They might have thought she was dead. Lord knows she looked dead when you puled her out.”
Caleb’s mind filed with that horrible image of her broken, bleeding body, the way he’d puled the sheet over her head to keep the dust from choking her. The memory alone was enough to nearly send him into a rage. He held on to his temper by a thin thread. “So why now? Why haven’t they come after her sometime in the past eighteen months?”
“It took her six months before she could even walk again. It took another six months before she was able to take care of herself and move out of her parents’ home to live on her own. She’s only recently gotten any sort of media attention for her foundation, and I think that’s what did it. Her name started popping up on the CIA transcripts right after that big news article that plastered her face on the front page of the local paper. If there’s anyone out there who wants her eliminated as a witness, they might not have even realized she was stil alive until recently.”
That made too much sense for Caleb’s peace of mind. “I want to get her into protective custody.”
Monroe sighed. “You can try to talk her into it, son, but she’s been refusing it ever since she regained consciousness.”
“I don’t care,” said Caleb. “We should make her. Even if she isn’t hiding anything, someone might think she is. That alone puts her in danger.”
“If she doesn’t want to go into hiding, I won’t force her. It wouldn’t work anyway without her cooperation, and I’m not wiling to waste resources like that. Convince her to give in if you can, but any woman who can live through what she did has got to be about as stubborn as God can make her.”
“That stubbornness is going to make this job ten times harder,” said Caleb. “Since this is going to take a while, you might as wel send in my replacement. She’l be more comfortable with someone she can trust. Lots of them, just to be safe.”
“Sorry, Stone. Can’t do that. Al my men are tied up at the moment.”
Caleb felt his patience puling into thin shreds. His words hissed out from between his clenched teeth. “Then drag in someone else’s men, sir.”
“You’re already there and know the situation. She knows you. You’re the best man for the job, and she deserves the best, don’t you think?”
“Stop trying to manipulate me, damn it. It won’t work.”
“Who said anything about manipulating you? I’m just stating a fact. You’re the best man for the job.”
“I doubt she thinks so. It’s got to be hel for her to have to see me again.” He knew it was. He’d made her cry, damn it.
“Maybe that wil convince her to cooperate faster, just to get you out of her life. Stay put. I’l send someone else if and when I can.”
With that, Monroe cut the connection and left Caleb writhing in frustration. Lana needed someone else to watch out for her—someone who wouldn’t remind her of how she nearly died. Someone she could trust not to get her hurt again.
Bedtime was always the worst time of the day for Lana. She put it off a little longer each night, but it was nearly two in the morning, and after the dose of sleeping pils she’d taken so she wouldn’t remember her dreams, she was too exhausted to put off the inevitable.
Lana turned on every light in her bedroom until it glowed with brightness. It helped ease the fear that clawed at her bely, but only a little. Caleb showing up and unearthing al those memories was going to make her nightmares worse. She was sure of it. She wanted to scream at him or put a gun to his head or whatever it took to make him leave, but in her heart, she knew it was too late. Even if he left now, the damage was done. The memories Caleb had stirred caused a wound to reopen, and she was going to have to go through the long, torturous process of letting it heal. Again.
Lana lay on her bed and curled up into a tight bal as she struggled not to cave in under the weight of her fear. This shouldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after al this time and al her effort to make something of the shattered remains of her life. To forget what had happened.
She’d worked so hard to get to this point. She’d sacrificed everything—her career, her fiancé, her friends, her money, and any hope of ever having a normal life. Al of that was gone, ripped away by the three longest, most horrible days in her life. And stil, she hadn’t let it beat her. She’d fought and struggled and forced herself to endure the pain of rehabilitation so that she could survive and do something meaningful with her life.
And now it was al spinning out of control, caving in around her. It was so fucking unfair that she choked on the rage weling up in her throat. She wanted to lash out and break something, but she didn’t dare. Her control was stretched too thin to alow her to let go for even a moment. She had to get a grip on herself. There was too much work to do and not enough time or manpower to get it done. She feared that if her foundation crashed and burned, she’d lose her last reason to keep going, to keep fighting off the pressure to give in to her terror and let it consume her.
It was a dark temptation to just let go. As close as she was hovering to the limits of her sanity, it wouldn’t be hard to go over the edge. Just a short fal. She could colapse in on herself and let the world go away. She’d almost done it once after the doctors had told her she’d never walk again, probably never have children because the beatings had damaged her too badly. She could do it again and let the calm, black numbness embrace her.
It was so tempting she felt herself slip that much closer before she puled herself back, shocked that she’d even consider giving in. People needed her. The kids needed her. She couldn’t let them down. She’d fight this threat with every ounce of effort she had left in her. There wasn’t much strength left after al the fighting she’d already done, but she had to try. It was the only way she could live with herself.
CHAPTER FOUR
I n her nightmares it was always dark. Choking, thick darkness that crawled into her nose and mouth and filled her lungs with clotted, oily air. She couldn’t see, but she could feel the cold metal pipe hammering against her ribs until they cracked. She could hear her own screams, high-pitched and gurgling wetly with the blood that filled her mouth. She was bound, helpless. She couldn’t fight. She couldn’t even move. Hard plastic bindings sliced through the skin on her wrists as she struggled to crawl away. It was futile. Her legs had been broken in so many places she couldn’t even climb to her knees.
Pain swamped her body, a bone-deep, writhing, living pain that clawed through her blood with every terrified beat of her heart. She didn’t believe that she could endure this much pain without dying. It didn’t seem possible, but that was just one more cruel torture they had devised to punish her. They wanted her pain; they reveled in it.
They laughed when she screamed.
They were laughing now, and she realized in some distant sliver of her mind that remained sheltered and sane that it must mean she was screaming, even though she didn’t know she had been. She’d screamed so much for so long that it almost seemed as natural as breathing. But she didn’t want to give them that pleasure, so she tried to be quiet. She tried to calm herself enough to pull in a decent breath. Her lungs were burning, and her heart was pounding way too hard. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She panicked as the cold blackness closed in around her, swallowing her whole.
She couldn’t fight it. She wasn’t strong enough. She’d been worn down too hard for too long, and there was no strength left to fight it anymore.
Then she felt Caleb’s hand wrap around hers, a rough warmth of skin-to-skin contact. The heat tore through her, lashing out at the cold black claws of terror that were tugging her down. She focused on that warmth, knowing it had saved her before and it could again. She couldn’t die if he was here. Not if he was here.
Caleb’s low, insistent voice puled her from her nightmare. “Wake up, Lana. Come on. Wake up, honey. You’re safe.”
Her body trembled, but her breathing slowed until she could pul in a ful breath before it was hastily forced from her lungs. She was dimly aware of Caleb’s low, calming voice muttering hushed tones of comfort against her temple. She felt his hard, hot body surrounding her. He was rocking her back and forth like a child, stroking her back with one hand while his other was clutched inside her death grip.
She could smel his skin, a hot, masculine scent, and remembered it from the day he’d carried her out of the cave into the sunlight. He’d saved her. She was safe.
Lana shuddered and relaxed against him. She was too tired to fight, but she didn’t have to now. He was here and she could rest. He wouldn’t let her die.
Caleb had risked his life countless times. He’d jumped from planes in the dead of night into enemy territory. He’d infiltrated buildings ful of men bristling with weapons and hatred. He’d fought his way through war zones and felt bulets fly by so close they burned his skin. But he’d never known true terror until he heard Lana’s screams coming through the microphone on the camera he’d planted in her apartment.
Adrenaline flooded his body, and he’d busted open her front door, weapon in hand, before she had time to pul in a breath for her second scream. He raced to her bedroom to find it was brightly lit, every one of the many lamps blazing.
It took him only a brief instant to realize no one was in there with her and that she was just dreaming. Although just dreaming wasn’t the right way to put what she was going through.
Her body writhed on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of sheets and blankets. Sweat poured off her, wetting her hair and the colar of her oversized sleep shirt. Her head was thrown back, and her neck was stretched at an extreme angle, as if she were trying to get away from something.
Horrible, wailing sounds of terror weled from her mouth, and her face was streaked with tears.
Caleb puled her into his arms, covers and al, trying to wake her. He shook her and caled her name, but she was too caught up in the nightmare to hear him. Franticaly, he tried to drag her back into consciousness, squeezing her hand while he rocked her in his lap.
Something he’d done must have helped, because she started to calm down. Her harsh breathing evened out, and she curled against him. “Caleb.” Her voice was groggy and rough from the strain of screaming. “Please don’t leave me again.”
Caleb wasn’t sure he heard her right. She sounded like she was stil half-asleep. She’d asked him to stay, which meant she couldn’t be thinking straight. But her words were too aluring for him to refuse. Maybe he was just hearing what he wanted to hear, but for now, that was enough.
He ran his hands over her bare arms and down her back, letting himself imagine that she actualy wanted his comfort. She was stil bathed in sweat, and as she relaxed, he could feel her skin roughen with cold. Caleb didn’t even stop to think how she’d react if she were awake. He just arranged her on the bed, puled up the covers to her neck, and moved his body against hers to keep her warm. Maybe she wouldn’t thank him for the intimacy when she was awake, but in her sleep, she wiggled closer to him, seeking his warmth. After a few minutes, she was sleeping peacefuly.