“Just what, Mase? You’re not the one having to go through this shit, so don’t tell me how to fucking act right now. Let’s just do our jobs.” I let out an aggravated groan and rested both hands on top of my head and forced myself not to turn and look at Rachel. “Did you call the department?”
“Yep, before you ever came out of the building. Police and ambulance should be here any minute. Chief and some of the others will be here not long after.”
I nodded my head and walked toward the building just so I could get away from Rachel, and Mason’s observant eyes.
“Kash,” Mason said in clear warning, but I didn’t stop.
As soon as I entered the building, I went directly to Trent and bent down so I was closer to his eye level. He finally looked up at me, and his dark eyes were hard as we stared at each other.
“If you put those bruises on my future wife’s face”—I growled—“I will pay back every one tenfold.”
“I would die before doing that to her.”
I saw red. My hands clenched into fists as I yelled, “I’m sure you’ll understand why I don’t fucking believe you! You’ve held her here for over a goddamn month, you worthless piece of shit! If I find out that any of that torture actually happened, you won’t live to see the next day!”
Trent kept his eyes on me but didn’t say anything else until after I’d stood and began walking away. “She loves you.”
My chest clenched painfully. “You should have reminded yourself of that before you kissed her.” Turning to look at him, I held his gaze as I said, “She’s mine. Do you get that? You can’t have her, and if you touch her again, I won’t be held responsible for my actions. She belongs. To. Me.”
When his eyes fell back to the floor, I turned and left the building. The faint sound of sirens could be heard as I made my way to Mason.
“Mase, I’m going to want to go back with Rachel when they take her in, if they still need you here. Are you cool?”
“Yeah, just— Never mind. Yeah, I’m good.”
“No, tell me.”
He sighed and looked over my shoulder at the truck before looking back at me. “Just be prepared, all right? She was kidnapped and kept here for over a month, and we don’t know what they did in fact do to her.”
A short, humorless laugh left me. I’d just been saying the same thing. “Trust me. Mase, I know that. Be prepared for what?”
He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before blowing out a ragged breath. “Anything, Kash. She might not be the same Rachel anymore. Even with everything that already happened, you just have to be there for her, and hope that she’s still in there.”
God, I hope like hell my Rachel is still there . . . somewhere. I shut my eyes tight against the tears pricking the backs of them and locked my jaw. It wasn’t until the ambulance and two patrol cars were on the scene that I finally opened my eyes again and made my way back to the truck.
“You ready, Rachel?”
Her jaw trembled when she looked up at me, and it broke me to watch her eyes fill with tears again. She opened her mouth, but only nodded when nothing came out.
“All right, let’s get you to the station then.”
AS WAS EXPECTED, I wasn’t allowed in the room as they questioned all the men we’d arrested or Rachel on everything that had happened from the actual kidnapping, to the month that she’d been gone. At least Chief had let me stay in the observation room to Rachel’s room so I could watch.
I hadn’t decided if I was glad I’d stayed to listen, or not.
After finding out Trent was the one to physically kidnap her, and keep her locked in that fucking small room with the mattress in it, my jealousy turned into pure rage, and it took everything for me to not hunt down the room he was in and finally do what I’d been wanting to. After listening to Rachel countlessly remind the detectives interviewing her that Trent had been protecting her, taking care of her, and trying to help her escape, I just wanted to throw up again.
She talked about him like he was a hero. She described him as being tortured emotionally, and being forced to do everything. “But, oh no! He isn’t a bad person!” And apparently I wasn’t the only one thinking it . . . because Detective Byson asked her if she’d ever heard of Stockholm syndrome.
“What? No! I mean, yes, I’ve heard of it; but no. I don’t have that, he was just good to me. He was just protecting me and keeping me safe, and it’s something I appreciated, that’s all.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to remind her that he’d taken her from me. That he’d kept her from me and had me believing she was being tortured. I wanted to know why she’d let him kiss her. I just wanted to fucking throw something. That must be why they didn’t have tables or chairs in the observation room. And I completely stopped breathing when Byson asked his next question.
“Rachel, did you and Mr. Trent Cruz have any form of a sexual relationship while you were in captivity?”
“N-no! No! He— No! We just . . . No!” She licked her lips quickly and turned to face the one-way mirror.
I stared into her blue eyes through the glass for a few seconds before I turned and walked out the door. There was so much pain radiating through my chest, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I’d been prepared for her to be hurt. I’d been prepared for her to have some things to work through if we got her out okay. I hadn’t been ready for this.
18
Rachel
AFTER FOUR HOURS AT THE STATION, and another three and a half hours in a hospital receiving a sexual assault examination and checking the bruising to the front of my body to make sure there were no broken bones, I was released and allowed to go home.
Logan hadn’t spoken a word to me since before we’d arrived at the station, and now we were standing in our living room just staring at each other.
I’d envisioned being with him again so many times while I’d been in that room with Trent. Each one had us rushing to each other, kissing each other like we needed the other to breathe, and different variations of him making love to me, and us finally getting married. Not one of them had been like this, not one of them had made me sick to my stomach with guilt that I didn’t know if I should have or not. And not one of them involved me wishing Trent were still here with me.
Despite the questions from the detectives, I wasn’t in love with Trent. Even though I’d been adamant that we hadn’t had a sexual relationship, I wasn’t sure how to describe our kisses in the final half hour; or the fact that I knew that he wanted me without making it seem like the kidnapping could have been something it wasn’t. So I’d stumbled over my words, and in turn had received the sexual assault exam, which I’d rather not go through again.
I wasn’t in love with Trent, and I didn’t have Stockholm syndrome. I just understood him in a way no one else ever had. I hadn’t known about the torture, though I’m sure Trent had, but I still knew he’d had no part in it, even if no one else believed me. And trying to clear his name just made it look worse for my “relationship” with him.
I could only imagine that was part of the reason Logan was staring at me like he wasn’t sure he could speak without crying or punching something.
“Logan—”
“Why don’t you, um”—he cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling—“why don’t you go shower? I’ll order some food.”
“Logan, please—”
“Do you want anything in particular?”
My jaw started trembling and I blinked back more tears before I shook my head. Of course I wanted something, just not food. I wanted to never have been kidnapped. I wanted my fiancé to look at me like he was still in love with me, instead of looking like I’d betrayed him by going along with the hand I’d been dealt.