Chapter Thirty-Two
Faces and voices floated around him as he slipped in and out of the fantasy of being rescued. Had he imagined being in a SUV with a woman, Hammer, and Jonas?
“Gavin … Baby brother.”
A ragged voice in a sea of other voices had him forcing his lids to open, trying to struggle away from arms trying to hold him.
“Just kill me. I’d rather be dead than go back there,” he begged the person staring down at him.
“He doesn’t recognize us.” Another face filtered into his sight and fear spiked that he didn’t have enough strength to get away from two of them. He was so tired. His useless body was unable to get up and run, despite his mind screaming at him that he had to get away.
“Gavin … don’t.”
He tried to move again despite the pleading voice trying to get his attention.
“It’s me, Loker.”
“Loker, I’m sorry,” he sobbed out to the hallucination, feeling arms tighten around him.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t know ….”
Gain tried to find a focal point so his brain would stop swimming and right the faces to bring them into focus.
“Gavin ….”
Reaper instinctively turned his head to the other side, recognizing the joy-filled voice of his father.
“Gavin!”
“Dad?” Turning farther in the direction of the blurry image of his father, he wanted to burrow into him like when he had been little and his dad had come home on leave, hoping that if he held on strongly enough, he couldn’t leave. He’d always had, though, despite how hard he tried. Reaper couldn’t make his arms work enough to grab onto his father.
Lowering his voice so no one else could hear, he begged his father, “Don’t let them hurt me.”
A sob tore from his father as he pulled his son into his arms. The sob terrified Reaper. His father never cried. It was just another one of Slate’s tricks.
“Don’t let them take me back!” he cried out.
Why wouldn’t anyone help him? They kept calling him Gavin, but he didn’t want to be Gavin anymore. They hurt Gavin. Reaper couldn’t be hurt. They were just trying to trick him again ….
No one cared ….
Reaper couldn’t be hurt ….
The pain of being lifted had him waking again, whatever he was lying on being moved as faces passed him. He didn’t know where he was, but it wasn’t the basement. One face that was different than the others had him reaching out to her. He remembered her carrying him out, protecting him ….
“Any woman who lets me sleep on her shoulder, smelling like I do, deserves a dozen roses.”
“It wasn’t so bad once I got the window down.”
“Do me a favor?” He waited until she nodded. “There’s a girl—Ton has her name. Call her for me. Tell her I’m ….” He started shaking. “Tell her where I am, and that I need her.”
Exhausted at getting the words out, he couldn’t understand what she said but felt the hand that covered his before he was once again moving.
I can’t give in to the pain, he thought feverishly.
When he woke up, Taylor would be there … She would be there ….
* * *
He clenched his hands on the cool covering over his body, afraid to open his eyes. The thought that his rescue was fake had him frozen, too petrified to move in case Slate or Ink was there when he opened his eyes.
Flickering memories crossed behind his closed eyelids of Viper being with him in a room. He wasn’t sure it had happened or if it had just been one more delusion the drugs planted in his mind. Ton being there and crying had just added to the confusion of the memory. He had never seen his father cry.
Replaying the hazy memory helped him to remain still, occupying his mind and helping him ignore the itchy skin that had him wanting to rake his nails over the flesh … over and over again until none of the irritating skin was left.
When he felt the covers being lifted away, he grabbed it back, then grabbed the hand that pressed down on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me,” he moaned in fear.
“I need to give you a bath.”
At one time, the feminine voice would have assured him that he was in caring hands, but not anymore. It only raised his protective instincts higher.
Some women weren’t the nurturing creatures that they pretended to be. Some hid their evil intentions behind smiling lips, pretending to be kind, when they were just as evil as their male counterparts. He trusted no one any longer, male or female.
“It’s okay, Gavin. The nurse just wants to wash you. I’m right here.”
He lifted his lids to see Viper standing beside his hospital bed and a middle-aged woman in scrubs with a wash towel giving him an encouraging smile.
“I can wash myself.” Gripping the stark white sheet against his chest, he prepared himself to jump from the bed if she tried to touch him again.