I point to the narrow flight of stairs behind the desk partially hidden behind a bookshelf.
“There’s a door there.” I offer. His face reflects a mixture of anger and concern as he speaks into a headset, asking for someone to come down to my cell, but I can’t focus on his words. I’m suddenly more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life. The knowledge that I’m being rescued makes me weak with relief.
“Do you know if there’s a key?” he asks firmly. I get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s asked. He drapes the dirty sheet from the bed over me then indicates the lock at my throat. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. I shake my head no and look away from the pity in his eyes. Will I ever be able to look anyone in the eyes again without them seeing how disgusting I am?
A hard finger lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his dark eyes. Eyes so much like the ones I want to forget. I lower my lids, unable to maintain the contact, and wrap my arms tightly around my middle.
“I’m going to make him pay for this.” My dead heart throbs at the promise in his voice. There’s so much anger simmering under his calm tone that I can’t help but want to believe him. The clatter of heavy boots running down the stairs makes me recoil, but I nod my acceptance of his words as a big blonde man drops down beside me with a large cutting tool in his hands. I definitely missed whatever was going on there for a little while.
“Hold tight, darling.” The blonde man’s words are softly spoken and gentle as he nudges my head to the side and quickly cuts me free of the heavy chain and collar. The sound of them falling to the concrete floor is my final undoing and I sag down in a heap, unable to stop the flood of tears that springs forth. Silent sobs shake my body. I thought I’d die today with that shackle around my throat. Instead, by some miracle, I’m being rescued.
Vaguely, from what seems like a long distance, I hear more heavy feet pounding down the stairs. The first two men move out of the way, making room for whoever entered the room, but I don’t have the strength to look up. I can’t even open my tired eyes.
Chapter Nine
Grayson
When Blake Stone, K&S Securities co-owner, and tech guru pipes up in my ear indicating that I’m needed for medical assistance in the basement my heart tumbles to its lowest level of the night. Nothing about this mission has been easy, but somehow, I know that whatever’s downstairs is worse than anything else I’ve seen tonight. Not that the number of frightened and abused people being ushered through the trashed living room isn’t bad enough. The worst part for me is that I’d convinced myself that if we found Dominic’s refuge we would find Nikki too. Starla was so certain. But I was wrong. She’s not here, and now the only hope I have of finding her is if X has him down there and I can beat the information out of him. Believe me, I won’t hesitate to do so.
Waving I catch the attention of John, the K&S medic, letting him know I’m needed inside. He’s assisting a group waiting to get loaded into the vehicles that will take them away from this place and should be okay without me. John came to Vegas with Blake and his partner Travis Keller to assist when Xavier’s wife Analise and her friend Faye were taken by Dominic in a play to strip Xavier of his authority in the family. Not that X wanted it in the first place.
I haven’t spent much time around Travis and Blake, I’ve been too busy trying to find Nikki, but they seem like solid guys. Xavier trusts them, so I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I gather my medical supplies, no one has needed much from me, which I consider a miracle, and find my way to a narrow corridor leading down to a dimly lit cellar.
The doorway is so narrow that I have to shift sideways and duck my head to get through it. Most doors are at least a little too small for my size so I barely even notice as I do it. Inside the sour-smelling room, I pause to absorb the scene in front of me. Both men are crouched down beside what looks like a small bundle of red fabric. A large bloodstain mars the concrete floor close by, but it’s old and definitely not what they are concerned about so my eyes skip over it. The fabric is obviously a sheet off the large bed that dominates the cramped room. My eyes bounce around, a mixture of shock and foreboding clogging my throat as I catalog the nature of the furnishings as well as the racks of bondage implements against the walls. Yeah. Whatever was going on down here was bad. No doubt about it.
Stepping closer to the covered form on the floor I meet X’s eyes. Fury and concern war with each other on his face as he stands and quickly steps away. I look down again, trying to assess the situation before I get started. For an instant I stand frozen, the breath knocked from my lungs. My vision clouds as a wave of dizziness assaults me and I have to fight the urge to vomit.
Fuck!
Long tendrils of hair trail out from the sheet and across the floor in a faded rainbow of what used to be vibrant color. Oh, my fucking… Fuck!
I drop to my knees, paying no heed to the smack of bone against concrete, that small pain nothing compared to the jagged hole being torn in my heart. I reach out to gently push the sheet back from her face. More than three weeks of talking to people I never wanted to, going into clubs and whore houses hoping to find some trace of her and she’s here in the last possible place I could have imagined. The only way this moment could be worse would be if she was dead… and they wouldn’t have called me down here to tend to a corpse. Crouching low, getting as close to her as I can I whisper, my voice shaking.
“Nikki, it’s Grayson. I’m here to take care of you, okay baby?” I want her to know whose hands they are before I put them on her. The fetid smell of her unwashed body stings my nose, but I ignore it. Gratitude that she’s alive swirls through me, mixed with boiling rage and regret so deep I feel it in my bones. I could have prevented this. I should have prevented this. Story of my fucking life. Always one step behind while the women in my life get destroyed by Dominic Cerelli. Shame grips me in its fist, burning me from the inside out. How will she ever forgive me? How will I forgive myself?
“Grayson?” her raw, rough voice whispers back. Gone are the dulcet tones I’d heard in my dreams every night. “Grayson?” she whispers again, yanking me from my self-recriminations and back to her. There will be time for that later, once I know she’s going to be okay.
“Yeah, doll, it’s me.” My voice cracks on the nickname I gave her the night we met. Gently I smooth tangles of filthy hair away from her face allowing me to see her more clearly. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut, bruises marking what had been healthy golden skin the last time I saw her. Her cheeks are pinched and sallow, lush lips cracked and crusted with blood and heaven knows what else. A raw red mark surrounding her throat draws my eyes to the shackle lying on the floor. He kept her tied like a dog! My heart physically hurts seeing her broken and discarded like trash on the floor. And what the fuck is that and crusted on her neck and hair?
“Don’t look at me, Grayson. Just go away. Forget about me. I don’t want you to see me like this.” Her raspy voice cracks at the end of her words, and big, fat tears seep out from behind her bruised lids. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out, but I see her words. Just let me die.
That’s not going to happen, and I’m not having this conversation with her now. Not when she is in shock. Sliding my arms under her, I rise to my feet clutching her emaciated frame against me, and carefully push my med kit to Xavier with the toe of my boot. He exchanges a curious glance with Travis, but I don’t have time for their questions. Right now, I’m going to get Nikki somewhere she can have a thorough exam, a bath, and something to eat. There’s no chance of that happening here, so she’s not spending another second in this god-forsaken house.