The Island (16 page)

Not that his scenarios had included Lee. Shaw had come to terms with the fact that he’d let Guterman do whatever the hell he wanted to his body, but where was Lee’s choice?

More to the point, Shaw wondered as he prepared Guterman’s drink, why did it suddenly matter? He’d seen people tortured, raped, and killed before. He did business with some seriously scary assholes, and those were the things they did. Shaw had once seen Vornis’s head of security back in the States shoot a man in the head because he was skimming profits. And Shaw hadn’t even blinked.

Well, he’d blinked. But only because he’d been sitting next to the man at the time and not expecting the sudden hot spray of blood and brain matter on his face. And Vornis had laughed so much that Shaw had laughed as well and accepted a towel and a change of clothes like it was nothing more than a spilled drink.

Shaw had taken the execution in the spirit Vornis had intended, as both punishment for the thief and a demonstration to Shaw of his iron will. Shaw knew the accountant had deserved it. The fool had practically begged for it the first time he’d put his hand in the kitty. Shaw understood that. Of course, Vornis thought Lee deserved it as well. Maybe that was the difference. Vornis thought that Lee had wronged him. Shaw saw a kid who’d just been doing his job. And maybe in this world that deserved a bullet in the head but not rape and torture. Because, shit, nobody deserved that.

And if Vornis played hard, everything Shaw had ever heard said that Guterman played harder.

Lee hadn’t featured in any of Shaw’s scenarios, but it didn’t make any difference. Because here Shaw was, and he was going to stand back and let it happen. Again.

When Shaw returned to the table, Guterman was watching Lee.

“Thank you,” he said as Shaw passed him his drink. His gaze slid to Lee again. “He’s nice.”

Lee was sitting beside the bed. He had his arms wrapped around his knees and his face buried in his arms. His breathing was shallow, and he was trembling. He was teetering on the edge of panic. Shaw could almost taste his fear.

“Very nice,” Shaw agreed, sitting down.

Guterman sipped his drink and set it on the table. “You know who I am.”

Shaw raised his eyebrows slightly. “I know your reputation, Mr. Guterman.”

Guterman smiled. “And you want to know more?”

Shaw allowed himself to return the smile. “Let me put all my cards on the table, Mr. Guterman. You’re an influential man. You’re a wealthy man. It would be a privilege to have the opportunity to work with you. Of course I’m interested.”

He gave Guterman a moment to process that, along with all the implications. What wouldn’t Shaw do? Shaw guessed that Guterman was the sort of man who would relish the challenge of finding out. And that was exactly how Shaw had intended it. He was young, he was good-looking, and he didn’t mind a challenge himself. He would do this and worry about his conscience later. There would be plenty of time to soothe it once he was out of here.

Fingers crossed.

“How much do you want it?” Guterman asked.

Shaw’s gaze lingered for a moment on Guterman’s mouth. He smiled and shrugged. “Try me and see.”

Shaw could play the tease for the right reward.

Guterman regarded him evenly. “What would you say if I told you I came here for a blowjob?”

Careful, Shaw cautioned himself; draw your boundaries.

He considered his answer for a moment.

“I’d say that I’m nobody’s bitch, and you’d have to make it worth my while.” He leaned back in his chair and flashed his cockiest grin at Guterman. “I’d also say it’s a great way to get over jetlag.”

Guterman needed to know he’d do it, but he also needed to know nothing was for free.

Guterman dropped a hand to his crotch and began to rub himself through the fabric of his trousers. “Did you put those marks on the kid?”

Shaw looked at the narrow welts on Lee’s arms and back from where he’d gotten caught in the wait-a-while. “Some of them.”

“Not a lot of artistry,” Guterman commented, “but some enthusiasm.”

Shaw couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or not. “Maybe I need some more practice.”

Guterman’s eyes narrowed. “Have you ever been whipped?”

“No,” Shaw said, and it was the truth.

Guterman’s lips quirked. “What would that privilege cost me?”

Shaw raised his eyebrows and wondered if he would ever be willing to put himself under Guterman’s control. Restrained. Shit, no. Because how could he trust Guterman to release him? It wasn’t worth his life.

It was worth Lee’s, apparently, but not his own.

Coward.

Shaw took a sip of his drink before he answered. “Now, you see, that’s a show of trust. And I don’t even know you, Mr. Guterman, and my mother always told me not to go off with strangers.”

He smiled, and the amusement wasn’t entirely feigned.
Actually, your mother told you a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet
. But she didn’t mix in Shaw’s circles.

Guterman raised his eyebrows. “And when we’re no longer strangers, Shaw?”

Shaw shrugged. “Then we’ll discuss it.”

Guterman laughed. “I look forward to it. And maybe I’ll use the boy tonight to show you what you can expect.”

Shaw ran his finger along the rim of his glass and resisted the urge to look at Lee.

Guterman lowered his voice. “One day you’ll scream for me as well. And bleed.”

Shaw’s eyes widened. Was that meant to turn him on? Because the chill that ran down his spine had nothing to do with pleasure.

“Really?” he murmured. His stomach churned.

Guterman smiled again. Light danced in his slate-gray eyes. “Oh, I do enjoy a challenge.”

Shaw forced a smile. At least he’d been right about that.

Chapter Eleven

Guterman left without his blowjob in the end. Thank Christ, Shaw thought and was almost overwhelmed with relief. Because there was no use pretending any different—Guterman scared the hell out of him.
One day you’ll scream for me as well. And bleed
. And there was no doubt in Shaw’s mind that Guterman believed it. He almost believed it himself. He knew Guterman was hardcore, but the man’s audacity was unbelievable. Like he could have Shaw strung up in a dungeon within minutes if he wanted. And, fuck, maybe he could.

Shaw felt sick at the thought of it. There was no way in hell Guterman knew the meaning of the word consent. No way in hell he’d respect boundaries or safe words. So there was no way in hell that Shaw could allow that to happen. He had to keep his head. He had to stay focused. He was balanced on a knife’s edge with Guterman, and he couldn’t afford a misstep.

Shaw had met with Guterman expecting that he had something to offer the man. A blowjob or a fuck, those had always been negotiable. But now he wasn’t sure. Guterman had thrown him off balance. He’d been in over his head before he even realized. So it was too fucking bad he’d already as good as sold himself.

Shaw sat on the bed and stared out the window at the Pacific. His hands were shaking. He wanted a cigarette, and he hadn’t smoked in years.

On the floor, Lee shifted. He raised his head and looked up at Shaw. His face was drawn, but something like malice shone in his eyes.
The shoe is on the other foot now, asshole.

No, Shaw thought as he studied Lee’s face, he’d misread that. It wasn’t malice at all. It was empathy. And that was even more sickening.

“Come on,” he said, hating the sound of his own flat voice. “Let’s get you cleaned up for tonight.”

Lee rose awkwardly to his feet and headed down the steps to the bathroom.

Shaw undressed slowly and followed Lee into the shower.

Lee leaned against the wall, his hands hanging slackly at his sides. He looked up at Shaw, his brilliant green eyes wide with hope and fear. “Please, I don’t want that man to hurt me.”

That makes two of us, Shaw thought, but he couldn’t say it. He kept his voice even, and it almost snagged in his throat. “Too bad.”

That broke him. “Please, no, please! I’ve tried, I’ve
tried
, but I can’t do it anymore!”

Lee had allowed his terror overtake him. He was disconsolate, shaking and crying, and in the end, Shaw pushed him face-first against the wall, crooked an arm around his throat, and held him like that. It wasn’t the embrace Lee needed, and it wasn’t the one Shaw wanted to give, but it was all Shaw could do. Lee responded to domination. Vornis had trained him so well.

“Settle down,” Shaw said into Lee’s ear, because there was nothing else to say.

“Oh, fuck,” Lee managed, shaking in Shaw’s grasp. “Oh, fuck. Help me, please. Please! No more, please!”

Shaw hated himself. “I’ve told you what I can do for you. In the meantime, you have to take it.”

“Please,” Lee whimpered. “Please, Adam!”

Shaw felt a jolt of surprise at hearing his name come from Lee’s mouth. Guilt washed over him, followed by self-recrimination. He shouldn’t have let it come to this. The kid had no right to expect any help at all, and he somehow thought Shaw could magically stop what was going to happen tonight? Even when he hadn’t stopped it the last time or the time before that. He hadn’t raised an objection or lifted a finger, so why the hell did Lee think it would be any different now?

What could he say?
Listen, mate, realistically you’re a dead man. Vornis is going to kill you just like he killed your team, and just like he’s going to kill Gatehouse. Maybe I’ll get out of this alive and maybe I won’t, but if I do, I’ll make that call. And it will probably be too late to help you at all. Don’t you get that?

“We’re not friends,” Shaw reminded him in a harsh tone.

“Please,” Lee whispered. “Jesus Christ, please! Whatever you’re doing here, they’ll pay more. My government will pay more if you get me out of here!”

Shaw shook his head. He rested his chin on Lee’s shoulder. “No, mate. Maybe they would and maybe they wouldn’t, but we’ll never know. You’re not worth it. And I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

Lee tried to struggle, but Shaw held him against the wall. “You’re just as bad as them.” He pushed backward. “You’ve got a hard-on for this!”

A hard-on for you, Shaw wanted to say, not this.

“I never said I was better than them,” Shaw growled. “I’m just not a rapist.”

“I thought you liked me,” Lee whispered. “Fuck.”

Shaw’s guts twisted, and he smiled at that. Wasn’t Lee supposed to be the one feeling the sting of betrayal? Except it wasn’t betrayal, because Shaw hadn’t broken any promises. It was what it was, and it didn’t matter how he felt about Lee. He couldn’t risk everything he’d worked for. He wouldn’t. This was the culmination of six years of hard work. Shaw could taste it now. He only had to reach out and take it. There was nothing that would prevent him from doing it. Probably not even Guterman, Shaw realized with a sick sense of foreboding. Shaw had bled for less, hadn’t he? And if he was prepared to sacrifice Lee, he had to be prepared to sacrifice himself.

We could find a boat. We could get out of here. Both of us
. But that wasn’t why Shaw had come to Vornis’s island. He’d come for Guterman, and he had to do whatever it took. He knew that.

Jesus, six years. He couldn’t throw that away. He couldn’t, not when he was so close.

He turned off the shower, and Lee fell silent. So well trained, Shaw thought again. He allowed Shaw to lead him back up the steps to the bungalow.

“Get on your knees,” Shaw said.

Not looking at him, Lee obeyed.

Shaw took the cuffs from the table and moved around behind Lee. He clipped one cuff around a raw wrist, and Lee began to moan and shake his head. “Please, please don’t. I won’t run, I promise. Please don’t.”

You’ll run, Lee, just like you did on the hill. Even when there’s nowhere to go, how can you not try?

Shaw felt sick. He twisted Lee’s other arm back and cuffed his wrist. “Shut up.”

Lee began to cry.

Shaw ignored him. He dressed and sat at the table with his laptop.

There was no news from Callie. Shaw e-mailed her the details of Vornis’s guests. The most important one was Guterman. Shaw had been trying to arrange a meeting with Guterman for years. The others were just the icing on the cake.

He tried not to look at Lee as he worked. He could hear him struggling to choke back his tears, and the sound was awful.
At what point
, he asked Callie,
am I a fucking monster
? He knew she’d know the answer.

There was another message from Stuart as well.
Call me when you want to get together, babe.

Babe
? That was new, and it almost raised a smile in Shaw. He removed his phone from his laptop bag and plugged it in to charge it. There were no new messages, and he hadn’t expected any. Shaw did all of his correspondence on his laptop. But he had Stuart’s number somewhere in the phone, and the temptation to send a text was there.

No, not yet. He needed to do his job first. He needed to keep his head straight and worry about everything else later.

Callie must have been online:
You’re not a monster. Stay strong.

Shaw looked across at Lee. His scarred back was bowed, and his shoulders were still shaking. Shaw didn’t know if he could trust Callie’s assessment at all. Maybe they were both monsters and just didn’t know it. What would he tell himself when this was all over, if he actually made it out alive?
I left that kid to die. But I didn’t rape him
. That was no consolation at all, not to himself and sure as hell not to Lee.

Shaw sent a reply:
Feel like one. They’re gonna torture him tonight.

He closed his eyes, feeling a headache begin to pound at his temples. Was he really leaving Lee to die? He didn’t
know
that Vornis would kill him anytime soon. He didn’t
know
that he wouldn’t be rescued. But whatever happened, if Lee died, Shaw would always know he’d had an opportunity to save him, and he hadn’t taken it. He didn’t know if that was a decision he could reconcile himself with.