Текст книги "Deliver"

Автор книги: Pam Godwin

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 42

Ten hours later, Liv shuffled out of the interrogation room in the Temple police station, her boots scuffing along the stained carpet squares, the arches of her feet igniting pain with each step. Damned heels.

The highlights of the detectives’ examination swished through her weary brain. We believe Eli Eary acted alone in his crimes. Killing him in self-defense is permitted by the law. Your actions are not legally punishable. No actus reus. You and Mr. Carter are free to go.

The investigation was far from over, but for now, they were free. She and Josh had been separated the moment the driveway flooded in blue and red flashing lights. They were transported to the station in handcuffs, separately. They were questioned for hours, separately.

She stepped into the corridor, searching the unfamiliar faces for pale green eyes and came up empty.

No one followed her as she walked, but detectives and uniformed men stopped mid-conversation to watch her pass. Fuck them. She tugged down the short hem of her dress, feeling awkward and really fucking exposed.

She hugged her mid-section, dropped her arms, crossed her arms again. This feeling…this insecurity was so foreign. The last time she lived in a free world, she was just a kid. But in her twenty-four years, she’d never been unsupervised, never went anywhere without checking in with someone…Mom, Mr. E, Van.

As she passed offices and holding rooms, looking for Josh, she felt lost. She needed his hand on her hip, his fingers laced through hers, his eyes studying her with his bold affection. She missed him with every dry, achy breath.

Turning the corner, she entered a long hallway, anxious to see how he was doing after all the questioning. Their carefully crafted story to the police painted Eli Eary as a sadistic slave owner, not a slave trafficker. They claimed he acted alone when he abducted and imprisoned them. The detectives were overwhelmed with the discovery of the allegedly-murdered Austin girl from seven years ago and the nationally-mourned linebacker from Baylor.

She and Josh had agreed to omit the existence of other slaves, the dead buyers, and Van. Too much murder, way too many complications. In their story, Eli Eary used her and Josh—his only two slaves—for his sexual, sadistic pleasures. No one knew she abducted Josh. And no one mentioned Mr. E having a son.

Her longer captivity was more complicated. To expose her connection to Livana, she accused an unknown man of raping and impregnating her a few weeks after her abduction. Eli Eary threatened the child’s life as a way to control her. She was allowed limited errands outside of the house but lived in constant fear for her child. When she’d revealed that truth to the room of detectives, her painful tears fomented the story. The seven-year-old scar on her face might’ve garnered some sympathetic votes as well.

When they told her she was free to go, she asked for a visitation with Livana. They promised to do what they could with a cautious message. “Mrs. Eary is struggling with her husband’s death and his crimes. Give her time.”

They’d said the wife and daughter were safe in Austin. Mrs. Eary had been oblivious to her husband’s corruption, which meant she’d raised Livana as a legitimate mother. It was good news, right? Livana was loved and taken care of. Yet a deep ache flared in Liv’s chest. Her limbs felt heavier, her body colder.

It wasn’t as if she’d had aspirations to take over the role of Livana’s mother. God, she’d been so focused on just keeping her alive. But if she were to examine her dreams of the future, they did include her daughter. Losing Livana had left a hole inside her, and perhaps that hole would always be there, but she needed to see her. Needed to understand her relationship with her adoptive mother.

At the end of the hall, she paused at the doorway of the waiting room, halted by the hiccuping sobs tumbling from within. Across the room, Josh sat on a couch between his parents with their backs to the door. Their heads bowed together, their private huddle enveloped by a chorus of whispered prayers.

It was four in the morning. Her stomach hurt at the thought of them waiting for her. They should’ve gone home. Of course, Josh would never leave without her. But would they be together the next day? Or next month? Would he go back to school, live with his parents, work the farm, and become a minister?

What was her place in his life? She was a master at rope bondage. She could crack a whip without splitting skin. She knew how to suck a cock. As for the Bible, well, that was just an anthology of well-written fairytales. She wasn’t a minister’s wife.

He clasped his mother’s frail shoulder, his broad back twice the size of hers. At least, they let him put clothes on before hauling him to the station. They hadn’t given her the option.

Emily Carter’s graying brown hair had unraveled from her bun. Her flowery collared smock dress fell loosely around her skeletal frame. The woman Liv used to watch through binoculars had lost a lot of weight.

Guilt landed like a bullet in Liv’s stomach. She’d caused his poor mother so much grief.

Daniel Carter grasped his son’s neck. The humped curve of his spine and the weathered skin on his nape implied that most of his sixty-six years had been spent beneath the unforgiving Texan sun. Silver peppered his full head of black hair, and she knew if he turned around she’d see Josh’s pale green eyes in the older man’s face.

The sight of the three of them together, praying, and crying happy tears produced a sharp pain in the back of her throat. For a flickering moment, she entertained an unrealistic desire to receive some of the love they were expressing, but she didn’t deserve it. Taking him from his parents was the most selfish thing she’d ever done, but she would never regret choosing him.

She lingered in the doorway, unsure where to go or what to do. Should she interrupt their private reunion? Her fingers shook as she adjusted the clingy top over her nipples. The bottom hem reached just below her ass. One of the detectives had offered her his suit jacket. She suddenly regretted declining it. She resembled a homeless skank.

The truth in that thought clawed through her chest and burned her eyes. She was homeless. Also penniless, jobless, and without a family. Hell, she didn’t even have a change of clothes. Aching for Mom, miserable on her lonely side of the room, she backed out of the doorway.

What the fuck was wrong with her? She was free. Livana was safe. Josh’s parents had their son back.

Pull your balls out of your cunt.

Van’s words steeled her strides down the hallway. She’d wait on the bench at the end of the hall until Josh was ready. Her toes pinched in her boots, and her stupid eyes burned with stupid tears. She slapped at her cheeks and pretended she couldn’t hear the desolate echo of her heart in her ears.

Halfway to her destination, an arm hooked around her waist. She gasped and inhaled Josh’s clean familiar scent. Tension shuddered from her body. She let her head fall back on his shoulder and compulsively reached for his hand at her hip. Christ, she hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed him to hold her.

“What are you doing?” His breath caressed her ear, and his other arm crossed her chest.

She turned in his embrace, wrapped an arm around his muscled back, and pressed her palm to his whiskered jaw, savoring his heat seeping into her skin. “I don’t know where I’m going.” Her nose thickened with tears. Fucking hell, she was sniveling.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He was heartbreakingly beautiful, even more so when he regarded her as if he were searching, not her eyes but what lay behind them. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” He touched a knuckle under her chin and raised it. “The worst is behind us. It’s just you and me. Everything else is trivial. Got it?”

Her insecurities dimmed in the intensity of his gaze. She traced the curve of his bottom lip. “How do you do that?”

With his arm braced around her, he dipped two fingers inside the front of her dress and pinched her nipple. Leaning in, he kissed the corner of her parted lips. “I’m a horny slut, remember?” He adjusted her top, twined their fingers, and led her back to the waiting room. “Time to meet my parents.” He peeked back at her, grinning.

She shook her head and followed that gorgeous, confident smile. She’d follow him anywhere, even if it was to meet his parents with her tits creeping out of her minidress.

“Mom, Dad, this is Liv.”

The air shifted with the horrified widening of their eyes. Judgmental energy prickled over her cleavage and down her legs. They didn’t openly gawk at her body. It was a flash, a gasp, a quick glance away.

Holding their chins stiffly upward, their eyes locked on Josh as if another accidental glimpse in her direction would damn them to hell. What had he told them about her? Not the truth, certainly. But had he told them he loved her? His fingers were laced with hers, but that could imply friendship. She rubbed her sweaty palm over her belly, stared at the exit longingly, and met their narrowed eyes.

Emily clutched a wad of tissues to her chest, her face etched in wrinkles. Her gray gaze flicked to Liv’s scar and returned to Josh. “Oh dear.” Her voice was cold, forced. “You poor thing.”

Liv cringed. Ugh, her pity didn’t even sound sincere. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Carter.” She held out her hand.

Daniel clasped it, his fingers gnarled from manual labor, and let go. The hue of his eyes were indeed the same as Josh’s but duller and surrounded by dark circles. Worse, those eyes studied her as if they were putting her in a box labeled, Things To Keep Away From Josh. “You’re welcome to stay with us until you get on your feet. We don’t have a lot of room, but we’ll make it work.”

“She’s staying with us.” Josh gripped her hip, pulled her chest against his hard body, and rested his lips on her forehead.

She hooked her thumbs in his belt loops and kissed the hollow of his throat.

Daniel’s harsh squint was slightly more subtle than the ugly twist of Emily’s mouth. They knew their son had been imprisoned and used as a sex slave. She doubted Josh had gone into details with them, but imaginations were limitless, even for church-goers. They would’ve been told that she was a victim like their son, but she was still part of the evil that defiled their virginal boy.

“Excuse me, Mr. Carter?” A uniformed officer poked his head in the doorway. “If you’re ready to leave, we can escort your family to your car. There’s a lot of activity out front.”

Minutes later, she stepped into the cool evening air with Josh’s arm hugging her shoulders. A small assembly of news reporters lined the walkway to the parking lot, flashing bulbs and shouting questions. But their voices were smothered by the cheers of college kids, waving Welcome Home posters and Baylor Bears memorabilia.

“Somebody’s pop-u-lar.” She squeezed his waist, and his chuckle vibrated through her.

They walked behind his parents and two officers, weaving through the crowd that spilled into the parking lot. The college kids stared openly with wide eyes, likely imagining all the horrors of their captivity. Some shouted friendly greetings. Others held candlelit prayer circles.

Suddenly, Josh’s muscles stiffened around her. He stopped their forward movement and turned them toward a huddle of pretty twenty-something girls.

Seriously? “Josh, what are you—”

A flash of long black hair caught her attention.

Camila shimmied between two girls and held out a plastic grocery bag filled with clothes. Her huge dark eyes were cautious, flicking over the crowd.

Josh grabbed the bag, and Camila vanished behind the crowding bodies.

“Keep moving,” he said, holding her tight to his side, his height allowing him to see above the bystanders. His eyes were focused straight ahead. He must’ve spotted the car.

A knot formed in her stomach. Camila wouldn’t have risked exposing her connection with them just to bring a change of clothes. The thought niggled as she followed Josh into an old station wagon and shut the door. His parents climbed in the front, and she sat directly behind Mrs. Carter. Josh reclined in the middle, his big body crowding the bench seat.

He set the bag of clothes on the floorboard and whispered in her ear, “We’ll talk when we get home.”

She nodded, agreeing that a conversation about Camila in front of his parents would raise questions.

Headlights from passing cars flashed across his face as Mr. Carter pulled out of the lot. Something was working behind Josh’s eyes, and it had her sitting on the edge of the seat. He buckled their seat belts and tucked her close to his side.

The drive to Waco was filled with his parents’ gossip about church, accolades for the community’s support after his disappearance, and updates on the farm’s crop losses. Josh assured them everything would resume to normal soon, and her doubts about where she fit in sat heavy in her chest.

As Mr. Carter brought Josh up to speed on the business side of the farm, Josh caressed the skin above her thigh-high boots. Sliding toward the hem of her skirt, his fingers slipped between her legs and traced the edge of her panties. She held her breath and stared at his profile. Why was he doing this?

His attention seemed fully absorbed in the conversation with his dad as he eased beneath the crotch of her panties, found her wet, and pressed his index finger in to the knuckle.

She released a soundless breath and gripped his wrist, her body flooding with warmth. Still, he didn’t look at her.

“You fired the contractor, right?” he asked his dad, curling his finger inside her.

Her head dropped against the seat back, her thighs parting. Nerve endings tingled along her inner thighs. She realized he was telling her without words that nothing would change between them. The church talk, his parents, his previous life wouldn’t sever their connection.

She relaxed around his grinding hand, her lap shrouded in darkness. Her breaths quickened. Her mouth moistened.

He stroked her until she couldn’t contain her panting. His hand pulled away, and he drew his finger into his mouth, watching her with a smile playing at the corners. “Liv will be sleeping in my room.”

“That’s fine, honey,” Emily said. “I’ll make up the couch for you.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, his arm resting over her lap. “No, Mom. She’ll be sleeping in my room with me.”

That was not how she’d envisioned him exposing their relationship. She slipped down in the seat, wishing she could disappear.

Tense silence pulsed through the car. He squeezed her thigh, and his eyes remained closed.

“Son.” His dad shifted, his gaze on the rear view mirror. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, and we’ll work through that. But the rules haven’t changed. You ain’t gonna be hitched and not churched. Not under my roof.”

Josh sat forward, slowly, his eyes narrowed on the mirror. “Your rules haven’t changed, but mine—”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Fuck, she didn’t want to cause this family anymore pain. She turned toward him and cupped his face, shifting his attention to her. “Please, Josh? I want to sleep on the couch.” He’d hear the lie, but she trusted he’d understand her intention.

He reclined against her, shoulder to shoulder, and traced the skin between her fingers. For a stubborn pain in the ass, he let the subject drop too easily. Which meant he was probably going to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Emily shifted the conversation back to church crap, promising that the ministers held all the answers to helping him heal. Forty minutes later, they shuffled into the Carter’s small, single-story home. The front half was split between a sparsely decorated sitting room and a galley kitchen. A short hall led to two bedrooms and a bathroom in the back.

He stopped her at the bathroom door. “Take a shower if you want. My room’s right there.” He pointed at the door across the hall. Following her in, he set the bag of clothes on the counter and dug through the jeans, cotton dresses, and t-shirts.

A comfortable warmth tingled through her chest. She owed Camila for so damned much.

He pulled out a camisole and sleep shorts. “Can you sleep in this?”

She nodded. “What happened back there with Camila?”

“She said something to me. The crowd was loud. I don’t know. I read her lips.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “I swear she said, Watch your back.”

What? Her spine tingled. “Why would she say that?” Their enemies were dead.

He unfolded the camisole, and a piece of paper drifted to the floor. Handwritten scribble bled through the thin folded stationary. Her shoulders tightened as they stared at it.

He picked it up, his eyebrows pulling together, and handed it to her.

Her heart raced as she unfolded the note. “Camila has no way to contact me.” Why would she need to? She gripped his arm and held it up so they could read it together.

We’re so happy for you! When you’re ready, our home is your home.

A couple lingering concerns…

The kitchen was clean when we arrived. The job was gone. No cars in the garage. Were you able to take care of this on your own?

Traquero and his wife are dead. Found two days ago. We’re not sure who did it, but the how was passionate. Definitely personal.

Chapter 43

Van’s death replayed through Liv’s head in slow motion. The gunfire. The river of blood on the floor. His final words. He killed your mother…Needed your help…He’ll avenge me. Leading her surge of emotions was the overwhelming relief that Traquero’s depravity had met a bloody end.

Josh closed the bathroom door, his complexion a sheet of white. “You shot him in the shoulder.” He rubbed the back of his neck, studying her. “It’s possible he survived that.”

She opened the toilet lid, flushed the note, and tried to keep her argumentative voice to a whisper. “He bled out.”

“Or passed out.” He shoved his hands through his hair and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Ugh, so stupid.” He shut his eyes. “We didn’t check his pulse.”

Her mouth went dry. She closed the toilet lid and collapsed on top of it. Her chest felt hard and cold inside. “We left him there to die.”

He crouched before her and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Except he didn’t die. And when he came to the house last night, he’d already killed Traquero.”

She blinked, the movement irritating her gritty, tired eyes. “He must’ve flown to the Keys to help Mom.” She nodded to herself, swallowing past a tight throat. “He could’ve killed Traquero on his way back. But how did he know how to find him?” A horrible thought clenched her stomach. “What if he knows about Camila and the others?”

His hand wrapped around her neck, his thumb stroking the skin below her ear. “Think about why he killed Traquero.”

The only things predictable about Van were his jealousy and his hypocrisy. “Traquero hurt me.” Van had no qualms raising a hand to her, but Traquero had overstepped, recklessly. Van probably killed the wife in front of him just to make him suffer. “I think he packed up and left with the intention of protecting Mom and disappearing. When he failed, maybe he came back to avenge Mom’s death.” Would he do that? For her? The ache in her chest said, Yes.

“I despise Van.” He tilted his head. “But his behavior in the kitchen when you shot him…” A line formed between his dark eyebrows. “I got the sense that he was done. With Mr. E. With the whole operation.”

She sifted through her memories of the prior night when he was bleeding all over the floor. She couldn’t pick out a single word, expression, or action that suggested ill-intent. “If he knew about Camila and the others, he’d have no reason to harm them.” Her shoulders loosened. “He’s not a threat.”

He pulled her to the edge of the toilet seat, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his forehead on her belly. “You’re not leaving my sight.”

Her hands went to his hair, raking through the messy black strands. “I can work with that.” She lowered her lips to his head and filled her nose with his warm, comforting scent.

A fist knocked on the door. “Joshua?” Emily called. “Are you in there?”

His moan rumbled through her. He raised his head and kissed her lips. “I’ll be right outside that door.”