Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (9 page)

She suddenly understood the phrase, “train of thought.” The ideas and memories that you push away the hardest will always find a way back to the forefront of consciousness. Like a speeding train, they can't be stopped. She had to find something else to occupy her mind.

Camden
. A smile found its way across her full lips and her hands subconsciously glided over the slick skin of her stomach.

She’d never met anyone like him before. Her first impression of him had proved true. He was indeed a walking contradiction. How could someone be so nonchalant and serious, strong yet tender, all at the same time? Maybe he had multiple personalities?

It doesn’t matter.
The mystery behind everything that he was, was the reason she was so intrigued and attracted to him. Her smile widened as she grabbed the soap and began to lather her body. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was definitely something different about him.

And I want to find out.

Chapter 7

Camden stood at the end of the hallway quietly speaking to the dark-skinned Connor. The two of them had already canvassed the entire fourth floor twice, and Connor had cleared the area outside. If someone did know they were there, they were biding their time and waiting for the moment to strike.

And Camden was none too thrilled. None of it was part of the plan. He hadn't come prepared for this. Keeping Rayne safe, in a place he wasn't absolutely familiar with and without any of his usual security measures in place, was going to be one hell of a headache.

But what other choice did he have? He couldn't very well take her to the place that just that morning had nearly been infiltrated and more than likely still held her grandfather’s corpse somewhere on the premises. The poor girl had suffered enough for one day. She needed a break.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the suite where he knew a stressing Rayne resided on the other side. It didn't matter what it took, he would protect her at all costs. Not only for the promise he made Martin, but for himself. He couldn't explain the strange connection, attraction, or whatever it was between them, but he knew that he needed her in some way.

At first, he'd thought it was because he'd practically watched her grow up, checking in here and there and always near but never noticed, even when she was at her lowest and worst. Martin had kept close tabs on Rayne and her mother since the day they had left him, and he always knew when things were going badly. He never, not once, hesitated to send Camden to watch over them if he even suspected a hint of physical or emotional danger was near. So, naturally, he became attached.

It was as if Martin had known all along that something like this was going to happen and took all the necessary precautions to ensure both her safety and that Camden played a role in it. There had to be a bigger picture that he wasn't seeing. He sighed and returned his attention to his partner, who gave a short nod.

He left his comrade and entered the main area of the suite. It was already dark outside and he realized that what she probably needed more than anything right now was time to process. She would deal with things in her own way like he'd seen her do many times before.

Throughout her life, there had been more than one occasion where he wished he could have revealed himself and comforted her, especially after her mother died. Rayne had stayed locked up in her home for days and did nothing but cry. She didn't eat, drink, shower, or sleep the entire time. He had been in just as much pain witnessing the girl he'd secretly watched over for years endure such hurt.

No, he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Not now. Not ever. He would try his best to give her the space she needed, but he wasn't going to promise himself anything.

He stood outside the door to the bedroom, leaning close and listening. Slow, even breathing was all that could be heard. He quietly turned the knob and entered the dark room. Rayne laid on the edge of the bed, knees up to her chest, and one hand under her pillow. She actually looked peaceful in spite of everything.

Camden inhaled deeply and shook his head, driving away the thoughts that threatened to surface. Silently, he stepped around the bed and over to the balcony, checking to make sure the deadbolt was locked. He took one last glance before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

Rayne was tied to the bed, a gag in her mouth, wearing nothing but her bra and panties. Smooth-skinned extremities were spread wide and bound to each of the bedposts by some kind of white, cottony material. Try as she might, she couldn't get free. She jerked her head in either direction and pulled on her restraints until she thought her hands would pop off.

But nothing budged.

Wide eyes searched the dark room, and she could only vaguely distinguish the outline of a body in a chair next to the bed. Who was he? What did he want? Tears began to flow down her cheeks, and she screamed against the object stuffed into her mouth, only managing little more than a muffled moan. A deep voice traveled through the room, and her guts churned at the sound.

"Struggling will get you nowhere. You're mine, and I'm going to make you tell me where it is."

She thrashed some more, a new series of tears falling to stain the sheets. She screamed, screamed with everything she had, desperate and hoping that someone would hear.

But no one came.

"I don't know where it is!" she sobbed in undecipherable words.

His deep, guttural laugh rang out and grew closer. She panicked even more, throwing her head and limbs about violently.

"You don't want to talk? Fine."

Rayne felt the bed shift as his heavy body climbed up and moved to cover hers. His putrid breath pelted her neck and face, assaulting her senses with the most rancid smell, like that of a decomposing corpse. His bulk pinned her down and one of his large hands came up to grip her jaw, successfully immobilizing her. The darkness shrouded his face, and she couldn't see who her attacker was.

"I'll enjoy watching you die slowly and painfully, drip by drip, until every ounce of blood is drained from your body."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, turning her head to the side to escape his foul odor, and bit down on the gag in an attempt to prepare herself for the inevitable. She stared at the door, begging and pleading in uncontrollable sobs for someone to walk in and save her.

And then she saw it, a slight movement in the blackness of the corner. Her heart stopped beating and she couldn't breathe. There he was, that ever-present shadow that haunted her nightmares. The faceless, dark-haired stranger who perplexed her more than anything.

She strained her eyes to focus on his mouth. There they were: the trails of fresh blood making their way down his chin. Her eyes widened, and she screamed with all her might.

Rayne's eyes popped open, heart beating out of control and unable to catch her breath. She sat up, and it took more than a second for her to realize she was not in her own room. Her sleep-fogged mind tried to take in everything at once and failed miserably.

The dream.
Searching the dense blackness of the room, she wasn't at all surprised to see the familiar silhouette lurking in the corner. Even away from her apartment, she could not shake him. Her hallucination had followed her across the country.

She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and opened them to find it still there. She repeated it several more times, trying to blink him away. Her stomach sank and she felt as though someone had just punched her in the gut. She couldn't force her lungs to expand and draw in the air she needed to scream, though it wouldn't have mattered if she had or not. He was on her in a split-second, pinning her to the mattress and covering her mouth with his hand. The other came up to restrain her arms above her head.

This isn’t happening
. She was awake. She knew she wasn’t dreaming this time.

"You're quite sexy when you moan in your sleep like that." He dipped his head down further, pressing his nose to her collarbone and dragging it up her neck. "You smell divine," he moaned. "I bet the boss won't mind if I have a little taste."

Something wet touched her neck just below the ear, and she felt the bile rising in her throat. Tears streamed down her face in an instant replay of her nightmare. Her attacker shifted slightly and she felt something sharp at her neck.

A knife?
She screamed against his hand.
Where is Camden? Why did he let this happen?

A sharp pain pierced her neck, and she bit down on his hand.

"You bitch!" he yelled as he jerked his hand back.

"Camden!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Before his name had completely left her lips, there was a jolt of impact, and the attacker was thrown sideways off her. They tumbled to the floor with movements so fast her eyes could not keep up.

She scrambled off the bed and lunged for the door, leaving behind the sounds of impact, grunting, and cursing. Stumbling into the main area of the suite, lit only by a single lamp near the sofa, she searched the room for somewhere to hide. In her hysteria, she barely registered the feel of warm liquid rolling down her neck. Her hand shot up to cover the wound and she ran for the door.

She'd only made it a few steps before it swung open and Connor appeared in front of her. He, like Camden, moved so fast it was impossible to follow. "Are you ok?" he asked.

She nodded, still holding her neck.

Connor reached over and pushed open the bathroom door. "Get in here, lock the door, and do not open it until one of us comes to get you," he said sternly.

Rayne nodded and quickly locked herself inside. Somewhere on the other side, she could hear glass shattering. Backing away from the door in the darkness, she bumped into the counter and let herself slide to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, she rested her chin upon them and tried to control her breathing and fear.

A few sobs escaped her throat, and she was afraid she would be heard. Her heart must have been beating a million times a minute. She lost the battle to catch her breath as fear twisted her insides. She nervously ran her hands over her face and felt the slick trail of fluid left in its wake.

Reaching up, she grabbed the towel hanging on the rack and wadded it into a ball. She pressed it to her neck, wincing when it stung. A few minutes ticked away like hours, and it finally grew quiet.

Is it over? Are they hurt?
Climbing to her feet, she silently inched toward the door. Her eyes never left the thin strip of light filtering in from beneath as she strained her ears for any signs of life.

She watched in horror as a shadow passed through the narrow beam. Holding her breath, she clutched the towel and waited.

The shadow moved again, and a deep voice came from the other side. "Rayne?"

Camden!
She flung open the door and blindly threw herself at him.

Camden opened his arms and caught her just as she came barreling out of the bathroom. He held her in a strong embrace, and try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears. Rayne buried her face in his chest and let them flow freely. She wasn't sure if it was from the adrenaline or relief, but her emotional dam had burst.

Camden's strong hands gently stroked her back as he rested his chin atop her head. He inhaled deeply, possibly a sigh of relief, and held her for a moment before pushing her to arm’s length and dipping his head to look her in the eyes. "Are you Ok?" he asked.

Rayne nodded and wiped away the tears.

His eyes roamed her body, checking for himself, and he couldn’t stop them from widening in shock when they rested on the blood-stained towel in her hand. He reached down and jerked it from her.

"It's ok. It's just a scratch," she said quietly.

He glanced to her neck. "Shit!" he cursed, and turned away from her to run his hands through his hair, frustrated. He paced back and forth in front of her a few times, cursing here and there, and successfully freaked her out.

"I'm fine, Camden. It's not even bleeding anymore." She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Camden turned and gave her a look she couldn't quite decipher. It had to be a combination of anger, fear, and dread. The two still stood in front of the bathroom, and he used it to his advantage. Reaching inside, he flipped the light switch and gently guided Rayne toward the mirror. He moved her long auburn hair to one side and tilted her head just slightly so she could view the spot.

There, on the smooth, creamy skin of her neck, were two perfectly round puncture marks, and four red indentions between them. Her green eyes widened in realization and she moved closer to get a better look. She turned to him with confusion and disbelief written all over her face, before returning to the mirror to confirm what she was really seeing. "Is that...?" she asked, near panic as she looked to Camden one last time.

He stared for a moment, then barely nodded.

"He bit me?!" she yelled.

Rayne shook her head and searched his face for answers. "Why would he...?"

She was cut off by his hands on her shoulders and the stern look she received. "You need to sit down," he said calmly.

Rayne was furious. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down.
What if he had some kind of disease? I need to get to the hospital now and get tested for everything!
"I don't want to sit down," she said loudly.

Her fists balled at her sides, and she was about to continue with her rant, but halted when Camden held up his hands. "Rayne, trust me. There are some things I need to explain and I really think you should sit down."

She wanted to argue with him, but his expression wasn't quite right. He was hiding something. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and strode toward the sofa. Sitting on the very edge, her eyes followed his every move as he came to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.