Desire Unleashed (30 page)

* * * *

The door was locked. Frosty gave a couple of quick turns of the handle but it didn’t budge. It wasn’t timber just one of those cheap flimsy doors made of ply. He lifted his booted foot and with one almighty kick, it splintered and gave.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Kathy was lying on her side in blood-splattered chaos, strapped to the chair she’d tipped over. Her bloodied clothes were in disarray, her matted hair concealing her face, and still as a church mouse on Sunday. Reason alone told him that for her to have tipped the chair, she must still be alive. Rushing to her side, he prayed that that was still the case.

Frosty took hold of the chair and righted it. The sick bastard had really done a job tying her up. Her eyes flew wide at his touch, distressed whimpers vibrated in her throat, relief replaced fear in her eyes.

“It’s going to be okay Kathy,” he soothed, struggling to appear calm. Her skirt was bunched around her ass. The pervert had removed her panties and taped her legs apart showcasing her female bits. Her inner thighs, caked with dried blood enraged him, and he grabbed the edge of her skirt and tugged it down to her knees restoring her modesty. Removing the concealed switchblade from his boot, he made his voice smooth like melted chocolate, “I’ll have you out of this in a jiffy sweetheart,” he reassured attempting to calm her as he cut through the tape.

The instant her legs were freed, Kathy pressed her knees together. Frosty pulled the edges of her blouse over her nakedness. An ugly red line, and the source of most of the bleeding, scored her left breast. The laceration didn’t appear deep but was nasty enough to require stitching. He took a clean folded handkerchief from his jeans pocket and slipped it under her shirt, pressing it firmly against her breast. “Hold this tight sweetie, it’ll stop the bleeding.”

Kathy nodded, and he inched the duct tape from across her mouth with a gentle hand. Her teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t speak, but she did as he asked and lifted her hand placing it where he’d instructed. It was clear she was in shock. He shrugged out of his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders, and spoke to her in a low voice, the way he did with Meredith and Mandy when they were hurting. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He tilted her chin, she had one hell of a shiner, but apart from the bruises and swelling, her face was unmarked. He kissed the top of her head as silent tears spilled, soaking the fabric of his shirt as she leaned against him. It would be cruel and incredibly hard for him to leave her, but the ruckus in the other room worried him, Ice should’ve had that lowlife sorted by now.

“Sweetie, I have to go check on Ice. I want you to stay here and keep the pressure on that wound?”

Kathy took him by surprise, locking her arms around his neck. She started to hyperventilate.

“Shh, breathe easy,” he said, disengaging her arms. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

As he sprinted from the room, Frosty prayed that Ice was in control. The mood he’d been in, he was likely to kill the asshole. Not that Baker didn’t deserve it, but murdering the SOB wouldn’t be smart.

Frosty witnessed Ice deliver the finishing blow to Baker’s jaw that sent him sprawling unconscious onto the floor. He figured from the crunch it made it had to be broken. The thought aroused no sympathy. Across the room he met his friend’s eyes; they were as cold and hard as flint.

“Kathy?” Ice rasped.

“Badly shaken, bruised and in need of stitches,” he answered in a low voice.

The feral snarl that erupted from Ice’s throat was more animal than human as he strode toward the back room. Frosty grabbed his shoulder detaining him. “There’s more. She’s not wearing underwear and there’s blood, she may have been raped,” he warned.

*

Ice cursed. His anger meter ratcheted from ballistic to murderous. Filled with a rage so intense that he wanted to kill the son of a bitch, he cursed again. A shuffling noise to the rear had both men turning. Kathy was framed in the doorway slumped against it for support. The sight of her battered and disheveled angered him and made his heart ache. She looked so pitiful, her hands clutching the front of her tattered blouse as she took a tentative step into the room, but when her eyes found Baker’s still form on the floor she froze.

A lump formed in his throat at her reaction. Her skin was deathly pale, her pretty face unrecognizable, silky hair matted and caked with dried blood.

“Steady Ice, she needs you cool.”

Frosty’s quiet words broke through the barrier of his anger bringing an outward calm that he did not feel. Masking his features, he kept his face bland for her sake.

Kathy listed toward him, and he reached her in two strides and gathered her close. “I’ve got you babe, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her arms circled his waist and hugged him tight like she’d never let him go. Her shoulders quivered as wrenching sobs shook her body. He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, and her hands. Despite wearing Frosty’s jacket, she felt as cold as an Arctic winter to his touch.

Ice had to see for himself, so removed the wadded handkerchief. Blind fury took root in the pit of his gut, grew and spread as he examined her breast, but the only outer evidence of his rage was the clench of his jaw.

“It looks worse than it is, it’s not that deep,” Frosty said. “But it will need stitching.”

Ice didn’t trust himself to speak, just gave an imperceptible nod.

“I saw some duct tape in the back room. I’ll just go get it to secure this prick,” Frosty murmured and left.

With the utmost care, Ice lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. Fearing the answer, he still had to ask the question. “What else did he do to you, baby?” His voice was uncharacteristically rough with emotion.

Kathy gulped.

“Did he rape you?” Ice tensed and his gut twisted while he waited for her answer. For without a doubt, if that bastard raped her, he was dead meat, and fuck the consequences.

“No, but he was going to, he tou … ched me … it was ho … horrible,” she sobbed, clearly reliving the terror of the moment. “He kept saying that you’d corrupted me… He was going to kill me. I kept praying you’d come.”

Ice swore and with a gentle sway rocked her against him, grateful that she had at least been spared that.

* * * *

Frosty had used the tape as a pretext to give Ice and Kathy time alone. If that cretin Baker came to, then he had no doubts Ice would knock him into next week. What worried him though, was after what Baker had done to Kathy, Ice wouldn’t stop there. His reaction had been unprecedented. Frosty had never seen him lose his cool before, but for a minute back there, Ice had been so furious, it looked like he was about to kill Baker.

With a sweep of his eyes, Frosty appraised the tidy and modern room. Baker had been meticulous with the décor, compared to the outside appearance it was like night and day. The guy must be a complete fruit loop with more than one hang up, an obsessive compulsive swinging from one extreme to the other.

Frosty walked over to the table and picked up the reel of tape that rested next to an array of photographic equipment. He examined each of the cameras in turn and wondered what a janitor would be doing with such high tech expensive gear.

His question was answered as he turned for the door. The sight arrested him. Without any exaggeration, photos of Kathy papered the wall. Geezus, there were hundreds of them.

This guy was tenacious. The mural of pictures depicted Kathy in all kinds of poses, but one in particular astounded him. Cripes, Hawk was right. Ice did do her in the surf. He reached up and took down the black and white print for a closer look. Sensual and sexually provocative, the picture was a piece of artistry. The creep had captured the rapture on their faces in a moment of eroticism that left nothing to the imagination. In other circumstances, he might have admired the talent of the photographer, but this guy was a perverted psycho. Frosty folded and tucked the print into his back pocket. Although she came across as sweet and naïve, the photograph belied that illusion. Wild, provocative, sensual, she was perfect for Ice, yin to his yang. But the photograph was explicit, and she’d suffered enough without it coming to light.

Frosty flipped open his cell and dialed the police. Assured that a patrol car would be there pronto, he picked up the tape and marched into the other room.

“The cops are on their way,” he announced and knelt to secure Baker’s hands and feet. “You take Kathy to the hospital. I’ll wait with this asshole until they arrive.”

*

Ice scooped Kathy into his arms and carried her to the car. Frosty followed and opened the passenger door.

“What about you?” Ice asked, bundling Kathy inside and clicking the seatbelt in place.

“Don’t sweat it—I’ll hitch a ride with the cops. You just worry about Kathy.”

“Thanks buddy.” Ice climbed into the driver’s seat. Kat sat huddled in the corner, her face devoid of color, eyes glassy, mouth a thin bloodless line. Too quiet. The quicker he got her to hospital the quicker he would rest easy. He gunned the engine and accelerated to warp speed. The vehicle devoured the miles and it seemed no time before they arrived at the emergency entrance.

Ice leaped from the cab, hustled around to Kathy’s side, and lifted her into his arms. He would have carried her inside, but her protests halted him, and he gave her a silly grin. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined being happy at her arguing with him, but he took it as a good sign and set her on her feet. Slipping an arm around her waist, he guided her through the automatic sliding doors and up to the front desk.

The duty nurse took one look at Kathy and ushered them into a cubicle where a doctor attended them a few minutes later. He hardly looked old enough to be out of college, but he knew what he was doing. After suturing her breast, he wanted to give her a shot of pain killer and admit her for the night, but Kathy flat out refused saying she’d had enough of hospitals to last her a lifetime, hated needles, and the smell of antiseptic was making her nauseous.

Ice tried to talk some sense into her, even offering to stay overnight, but Kathy was adamant she wanted to go home. In the end the doctor agreed, told her to return in ten days to have the sutures removed and extracted her promise to come back for a check-up if anything looked to be getting infected.

“Shane, what am I going to wear home? I can’t put that back on.” Kathy pointed at the tatty remnants of her bloodied blouse that lay hardening on the floor.

“Don’t fret babe, I’ll find something for you.”

Ice searched the corridors and commandeered a hospital gown, although ugly and rough, it would serve the purpose. Kathy was in the process of tying it up when Detective McKenzie arrived and insisted on questioning her.

That got his dander up. He was ready to snap and flat out refused to allow it, even though McKenzie insisted. It was like a Mexican standoff with neither side willing to back down. He’d already conceded one argument tonight and had no intention of caving in to another. The detective likewise was determined to do his job.

“It’s better that she answer my questions now Jackson, while it’s still fresh in her mind.”

“Better for whom?” he roared trying to keep a leash on his temper. “Kathy’s in shock, she’s tired and in case you haven’t realized it, that asshole carved her up pretty bad, now get the hell out of my face, so I can take her home.”

“Shane please.”

Kathy clutched his arm. Her expressive eyes sent a silent plea, begging him to back off. He felt the adrenaline pumping through his body, he was angry enough to push the point with McKenzie, but a glance at Kathy, who looked done in, had him changing tack. “Look at her, man, she needs to get out of here. We can do this another time can’t we?”

The detective heaved a sigh. “I’m on duty at two tomorrow, see that you bring her in then.”

Ice grunted his acceptance and escorted Kathy out.

Chapter 18

Kathy spent the night secure in Shane’s comforting arms. It was late by the time she’d showered and Shane had dried her hair. She crawled into bed exhausted, but sleep eluded her. The trauma of the night kept her awake, replaying in her head like a video recording stuck on repeat.

In the shower, she’d scrubbed herself raw but couldn’t erase the touch of Len’s hands on her body. She still found it incredulous that he had really meant her harm. Mixed images of them laughing and sharing coffee jumbled together with those of the knife-wielding maniac. It was crazy and didn’t make any sense at all. They were friends. She’d never given him a reason to think otherwise, but he’d meant to rape and kill her. Her relief when Frosty crashed through the door was unimaginable, she didn’t even care that she was half naked, it was only now, and the thought of facing him tomorrow, that made her squirm.

Shane was not sleeping either. He held her close, petting her hair and kissing the top of her head. She would never forget the look in his eyes when he finally came to her. Face cut and bloodied, knuckles raw. He reminded her of a warrior of old who had just done battle and had finally captured the castle and rescued the princess. He’d worn a cold deadly expression, and she knew then Len Baker was very lucky to still be alive.

Kathy teetered on the brink of sleep, smudgy eyelashes kissed her cheeks. Her breathing deepened. Colors blended, red, black, white.

Her eyes sprang wide.

How could she have forgotten the hideous photo wall in Len’s bedroom? Sick at the thought of anyone seeing the photo of her and Shane in the surf, she made a mental note to speak to Detective McKenzie in the morning. He seemed an approachable man, and she was determined that tomorrow she’d appeal to him for that print before it was submitted as evidence. Surely, one photo wouldn’t be missed.

Kathy closed her eyes and snuggled into Shane’s broad chest, wrapped an arm around his waist and tumbled into a fitful sleep.

* * * *

Ice woke early next morning pissed to the max. Kat had had a lousy night’s sleep. Her stitches had given her grief, and her distressed little moans had kept his anger on simmer. He hated hearing her in pain, and each time she woke, he’d stroked and soothed her back to sleep. He’d had a restless night too, what if Frosty and he had arrived an hour later? The thought woke him this morning, and he ejected it from his mind as he slipped from the bed, taking care not to disturb Kat.