In His Command (21 page)

The water grew colder, icy rivers slicing down my throat. I jerked inside the restraints. I couldn’t turn my head.

They hadn’t used the long-drop technique. The torque wasn’t calibrated to bless Alejandro with the quick reprieve of unconsciousness. They’d wanted him to dance.

I had to open my mouth. I had to breathe.

The water cascaded over my tongue. One of them held my mouth open, aiming the tube into my throat, forgoing the pitcher technique.

I blacked out.

I came around, retching, gagging on the watery soup swamping my lungs.

“Rice. He’s your fuck-buddy, yeah?” A hand pried my lips open, so I knew what was coming next. “He ask you to fuck him?”

“No.” For all the liquid sloshing inside me, my mouth was dry. “Innocent.”

“Well, good. Now that that’s over, we can take you for a nice long swim, Commander.”

Other than their questions that came at untimed intervals, they were silent. Blood rushed to my ears…no time to recover, drowning.

Suffocating
.

I’d rather be hanged. I just wanted to hang.

I’d watched Alejandro’s brutal murder until his body stopped moving.

When I had a second amid the water chugging, craning my body for freedom, in my heart of hearts I wanted Blondie to be the man I’d come to know—

I’d touched my heart where it raced in my chest and whispered back, “I love you, Alejandro.”

Crashing my heels to the board, I thrashed as water coursed into my esophagus, giving me no chance to swallow.

My head rang; my lungs were full. There was no air to be had.

Not a single breath left.

Only resolve. Despite the hurt, I wanted Blondie to be safe when all was said and done.

I came to from another dream.

Ring finger, left hand.
His words had been formed in his husky drawl.
An engagement, if you’ll have me.

I balled into myself and breathed, hurting all over. I hadn’t said a bad word about him. I wouldn’t.

The wet suck of my breaths was loud in my ears but not loud enough to dim the roar of my heart when I thought about his promise. The ring.
It wasn’t all a dream, was it?

My thoughts splintered into a million fragments, followed by my heart, when I touched my bare finger where I still felt the kiss of metal on my skin.
Everything,
it said. Everything included a little jail time, too. How frigging thoughtful of him.

Rolling painfully to my feet, I grabbed a handhold of cement and inspected my body. The highest marks I could give my physical condition were that I was still breathing, still standing, mostly, and still one step away from death. His promise ring took on a whole new meaning: a “promise to get you lynched” ring. He really shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.

Look at me, getting fucking poetic
. Well, someone had to laugh at this FUBAR situation, and since it was just me and my cell rat, it had to be me.

I wondered if Blondie had given his family ring to Farrow.

Since I could barely stand and breathing hurt like hell, I decided sitting would do me good. I wondered if dry drowning might be an option.

The passage of time was hard to make out what with no windows or D-Ps. Just a routine of banging my head against the wall to build my pain tolerance and regularly timed beatings to prove I hadn’t reached my limit.

The thing about being cell bound, there was no choice in visitors.

I’d had fuck-all to eat all day—or however many days it had been—not that my stomach could take a meal anyway. It was enough that I stood on my feet when the bars slid back, revealing my best fucking mate, Kale.

While he overshadowed the faint light from the hall, I crouched on the balls of my feet. His chipped tooth was a jagged edge undercutting his nasty grin. I steeled myself against the quick jolt of pride and possessiveness over Blondie that snuck up on me. I watched as Kale locked us in.

The graceless bull he was, he overturned the bare mattress, the water bowl. He kicked the shit pail and came at me with his dense, dark hate. “Didn’t like you from the start.”

“Surprise.”

Energy massed in his muscles; he didn’t move. Neither did I. “Wasn’t about to step aside to let a Corps clown and CO man set up camp in the commune. Don’t give two shits if Rice is Eden’s kid.”

“Obviously.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“Figured givin’ you two up was the safest bet to saving the commune. Y’all did me a favor when I heard you were aiming to be heroes. I wasn’t gonna let you get all the glory.”

I shrugged, fully aware my stoicism over what he obviously thought was his excellent master plan was pissing him right off.

His brow beetling, nostrils flaring, he stomped in front of me. Pointing his finger, chest pumping, he chewed out the words like raw meat. “I saw what y’all did with that guncotton. Shame Rice is such a traitorous bastard, ’cause we need people like him.”

“The only traitor is you.”

He gave me a maggoty smile. “Yeah, I went to the Corps recon troops. I was the one let ’em know there was bigger fish for the takin’ than a commune full of
Nomad
peasants.”

I bristled when he insulted his own people.

“While y’all were busy trapping those ignorant Corps bastards, I beat feet north.” He came closer until his face filled my sight. “Beat you to it, didn’t I?”

Guess he hadn’t gotten the accolades he’d wanted up above if he was down here asking me to validate his bald-faced snitching. All he got in return was a blank look, the one that fit so well on my face. I’d forgotten how good it felt to go with zero emotion.

“So, you’re gonna be the fall guy? Fuckin’ pussy.”
Bastard better not spit at me
. He tweaked his hairy brows in blunt fingers. “I wasn’t able to implicate Rice. He’s too far up the food chain, but I figured you’d squeal on him and get him that way.”

While I waited for him to break out in high-pitched pig snorts, I kept up my mute routine. Pissing him off gave me almost as much satisfaction as knowing I’d put a wrench in his scheming plot to off us both.

Apparently my silence didn’t cut it for him. Narrowing his eyes, he jerked his chin. “Maybe this’ll change your mind. You think Rice was ever true to you? It might be Farrow right now, but who do ya think kept him occupied while you were out there in the fields with Micah? He had his pick of the bitches and used ’em well. He’s quite the lady-killer; now he’s gonna get you killed.”

He inspected me for a response.

I showed nothing. That story had run endless versions in my head already, adding to the bonfire incinerating my heart that had sparked off with the thought of Blondie fucking Farrow.

“Got somethin’ you want me to pass on to him,
big man
?” He winked.

I wasn’t about to react to that, either. No fucking way. I didn’t even breathe, although I wanted to scream hearing Blondie’s pet name for me come from his fetid mouth.

I blinked once.

He wasn’t such a village idiot after all. He read that tic for what it was and pounced all over it. “Yeah, that’s right. You should hear him talkin’ about you. He can be pretty funny when he wants to be,
Blondie
can.” Clapping his hands, he launched into a new tale. “To hear tell, you’re a bad fuck and a crybaby to boot. Goin’ on and on about that other fag you got killed. What was his name again, starts with ‘A’, right?” He rubbed his skull right where I wanted to punch it. “Huh. Not as talkative as you used to be. That’s okay. ’Cause I got my own message for you.”

I wasn’t gonna spare one single word on him, but inside I reeled. It wasn’t enough Blondie set me up, probably fucked around on the farm per Kale, who was sounding a lot more trustworthy than him at the moment. He’d shacked up with his chickie and beaten my good faith into the ground by bad-mouthing Alejandro?

Since I couldn’t get to Blondie—and I’d made a damn vow not to harm him, one I’d keep if only to prove I was more noble than him—I’d let my fists do the talking with Kale. They always had just the right sentiment.

“See you already had your pretty face busted up. Maybe we could do something about your ribs.”

“Aw, now. You think I’m pretty?” I taunted the crazy asshole.

He recoiled as if I’d put the moves on him. I could practically see him clenching his ass cheeks. That made me laugh. “Don’t worry. Wouldn’t bugger you if you were the last man standing in the InterNations.”

That earned me an uppercut. So much for leaving my face out of this.

Without Hills to step in, we let fly.

In much better physical shape than me, considering I’d had only water rations, liters and liters of water, Kale had the upper hand. But that didn’t matter, because I’d been waiting for the chance to beat something.

Pummeling, punishing, pounding never hurt so good. Maybe if I pushed him hard enough, he’d end me right then.

After a few bouts that left our mouths bleeding and knuckles bruised, Kale cracked my back against the wall and then floundered to the floor when my knee took a bite out of his crotch.

Sliding backward, he climbed to his feet at the gate.

“Guess I shouldn’t kill you right here. Gotta leave that for the CO, ya know?” He panted, “Wouldn’t wanna spoil the show.”

Now look who’s getting all poetic.
My breath winching in and out, I flexed my fingers and glared at him.

And then he frigging spat on me. As if I hadn’t been spit on and shit on enough already. Just for good measure, he left with this clincher, “Almost forgot. Your trial’s been expedited, thanks to your ex-boyfriend.”

After I got over my beating, I sought out the next-best mental torture, because why the hell not? My trial had been expedited by Blondie.

Good. Let’s get on with the main event already.

The next time the bars groaned open, I stayed right where I was. Head down, knees up, making a nice comfy cornerstone of myself. “Visiting hours are over.” My gut lurched from hunger, hurt, and whatever else I was feeling. It was all the same, which was why I’d trained myself against that shit a long time ago.

Footsteps and silence greeting me, I peered over my forearms and shot to my feet.

Blondie.

My heart dropped, my head spun, and my knees noodled before I wedged myself back up.

I won’t hurt you ever,
he’d whispered. His sentiments kept eating a hole through my gaping chest. I wanted to ask him about that nice little lie. But I wouldn’t.

Blondie being here now hurt me. I had no time for more mind games or, god-fucking-forbid, sympathy. And fuck me if that wasn’t pity in his forget-me-not blue eyes.

“Get out of my cell.”

His voice was even, his eyes all over me. “Had to make sure you were okay.”

I almost waited for him to tack on
big man
. It wasn’t coming, now or ever.

“Yeah, fucking peachy.” Punching my hands to my hips, I remembered belatedly I was naked. For the first time I was nude with him and not sporting a boner. “This place has all the comforts of home. Now”—I put the steel edge into my voice—“get the fuck outta my sight.”

He approached me until he stood too close. I could smell the spicy scent that clung to him. My body reacted with a visceral twist of longing that made me shut my eyes.

“What the hell did they do to you, Caspar?”

“What you ordered, I imagine.”

Reaching for me, he pulled back when I flinched. He had the goddamn audacity to look hurt. “I’d never allow this treatment. You know that.”

That got a laugh out of me. “I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

“It wasn’t me,” he repeated.

Like it goddamn mattered. Then my eyes flipped to his as they went wide. “Your dear daddy?”

“Jesus.” His hands swept back over his hair. “Or my brother.”

“Either one here?”

“No. My father carried on to Beta to be with Linc. But that wouldn’t stop him, once he caught word of—”

“My crimes? My capture? My wicked, salacious deeds against his precious son?”

His mouth pruned inward. “I’m assignin’ new guards.”

“Very fucking magnanimous of you. Now I can break their fists in with my face too. Thanks.”

“There won’t be any more beatings. That was unconscionable.” He looked livid, but appearances were deceiving.

I snorted. “Says the duplicitous bastard.”

He cringed as if I’d slapped him. His hand came forward again, stopping on the wall beside my shoulder. Flattening myself away from him, I tried to ignore his eyes, the damp blue of flowers and dew.

I also tried to tune out his soft words. “Why didn’t you give me up if they tortured you? They wanted to know about me, about my role in all this, right?”

I sidled away. “Don’t go thinking you’re the end all. They wanted details on Liz, too.”

Palms pressed to the wall where my shoulders had been, he turned his head to me. “Why didn’t you tell ’em?”

I met his eyes dead-on. “Momentary lapse of judgment.”

It hadn’t exactly been a moment of stupidity, but I wasn’t gonna tell him the truth. The last time Spitter had let me come up for air, when I was hoping for nothing other than a quick death, I managed a croak before delirium towed me under. They’d wanted an accusation against Nathaniel, but instead I’d given them a confession.

Guess my lies had worked, because here he was, all polished, pressed, suited. His credibility assured.

He came to the same conclusion real quick. He always was a smart boy. “You lied for me, didn’t you?” He grabbed my face and brought me within kissing—or spitting—distance, hovering with his mouth so damn close to mine, I could taste him.

Oh, Jesus. I want to taste him one more time.

Leaning toward my ear, he hissed, “Don’t be such a goddamn hero, Caspar. It’s gonna get you killed.”

“Yeah? I thought that was your job.”

He stomped out of the cell, reappearing with some fancy domed platter covering food so hot, tendrils of steam licked his fingertips. “And make sure you eat this so you don’t drop dead before your trial.”

He started walking away from me, but I called out, “You know what?” He stopped and my voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I do have something to say to you.” I wouldn’t say his name, wouldn’t call him Blondie, wouldn’t even think it. This wasn’t about me,
us
, or this InterNations mess.