I Dream of Spiders Page 10

  “Miranda hired that thug to kill me. And when he failed, she grabbed his gun and shot me.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Grif, I was the one who took her statement. Well, me and Colin took it. She said that you two were held at gunpoint. That you went for the thug’s gun, but he dropped it. She picked it up and fired a few rounds. She hit the bastard, but she also shot you by mistake. She was devastated, could barely get the words out when she told Colin and me.”

  Colin.

  “Where’s my brother?”

  “He’s probably where he’s been for the last several hours. Waiting outside the operating room, hoping that Raymond Lopez doesn’t die on the table so he can have a shot at killing him himself, for what he did to you.”

  “Raymond Lopez?”

  “Yeah, real piece of shit. And one of the biggest drug dealers in the city. We’ve been trying to nail this guy for months, but he’s always found a way to slip through the cracks. Until now, that is.”

  Raymond.

  It couldn’t be. Please don’t let it be him. Because if he was the same man I met at my brother’s, then…

  “Do you have a picture of him?”

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find a pic of that scumbag. He may have been able to avoid jail time for the major busts we had hoped to pin on him, thanks to his overpaid attorney, but his record isn’t clean.” Mike was swiping away on his phone and then stopped. “Looks like the pic’s a few years old, but that’s him. Why would a criminal want to tattoo his face so it makes it impossible to forget him?” Mike offered me his phone. My eyes burned and my stomach roiled even before I gazed at the man with the inverted cross etched in his cheek.

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Do you trust the chief at your department?”

  “Absolutely. He can be a real dick sometimes, but he’s fair. Why?”

  “Because we’re going to need him on our side. Call him.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  It had been hours since I had eaten, yet whatever remained from dinner, or maybe it was just bile, wanted to come up. Through my tears I looked Mike in the eye and said, “Tell him that Colin McGuire and Miranda McGuire arranged to have me killed.”

  I awoke to the smell of coffee brewing, but it was the nightmare that tore me from sleep. I hadn’t dreamt of that night, the night that blew my world apart, in months. Shaken, I pull myself off the couch and go to the kitchen. Clare is standing over the stove with a spatula in hand. She showered recently, as the tips of her hair are dripping and making wet spots on her gray t-shirt, a shirt that hugs her in all the right places. My eyes drift to her round ass and just like that the nightmare I had is forgotten.

  Visions of last night flash before my eyes. Clare fisting my cock, her eyes filled with desire.

  Why couldn’t I have been a normal guy and fucked her and not cared that she has a boyfriend? Guys did that all the time. No, I had to screw it up and give myself a painful set of blue balls and a shitty night of sleep.

  “Hey,” she says, looking up. Her cheeks turn pink as she bites her lower lip. I knew as I struggled to fall asleep last night that this morning would be awkward, but I am not prepared for how I’m feeling. And right now I feel like a complete dick. I turned her down, and it’s obvious that she’s embarrassed.

  “Morning. Breakfast smells good.”

  “Chocolate chip pancakes. I hope you like them. I made enough to last us a month,” she says.

  “I love pancakes. My dad used to make them every Sunday after we got home from Mass.” I don’t know why I told her that. With the exception of Corinne, I rarely talk about my family, even to Trent. It’s just too painful.

  “Your dad likes to cook?” she asks, going to the fridge and retrieving a carton of OJ.

  “He did. He died two years ago from a heart attack. My mom passed shortly after.”

  “I’m so sorry, Griffin.”

  “Thanks.” I clear my throat. “I’ll go start a fire.”

  Ten minutes later we are eating pancakes on the couch. “So, it must be nice to have a sister. Is it just the two of you?”

  I don’t want to get into my family drama and the brother who is dead to me, so I lie. “Yes, she lives in California. Recently moved out there with her husband for work. She wants me to come out to visit her for Christmas…but with my new job starting and well, you…”

  “Can’t because of your moocher of a housemate? A moocher who basically has put you on house arrest?”

  “No. That’s not what I was going to say. And for your information, you’re not mooching off me. I asked you to stay, remember?”

  She sets her barely-eaten breakfast down on the table and draws her legs to her chest. “I know my memory is starting to come back, but it’s slow and in a sequence I can’t decipher. Every second that passes puts you in danger. I also can’t help but think of Jessie…and Dylan. What if those men who kidnapped me are looking for me and go to Jessie and Dylan for answers? What if I’m putting their lives at risk simply because they know me? The other day, when you mentioned Philadelphia, I saw that homeless girl in my mind. Maybe there’s a connection. Maybe if I go to Philadelphia, I’ll remember something. If I could borrow a few bucks, I swear I’ll pay you back.”

  Is she serious? She actually thinks I am going to let her leave? Alone? “Your plan is to wander the streets of Philadelphia in hopes that your memory will be triggered?”

  Her eyes narrow, making her appear both pissed and hurt. “I need to do something. I can’t continue to stay here and be a burden. I think it’s best if we just cut ties and let me figure things out on my own. It’s my mess, after all.” She gets up and I watch her cover her plate with tin foil and place it in the fridge.

  “I’ll go with you,” I say, though I know it’s a mistake the minute the words leave my mouth. The more time we spend together, the more I feel myself falling for her. Which can’t happen.

  She turns and faces me. “Are you sure about this, Griffin? Last night…well, I’m sorry is all.”

  What is she sorry for? For wanting me? I’m the one who is sorry, sorry that I had a conscience, sorry that I couldn’t tell my heart to take a back seat and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Why couldn’t I have just engaged in casual sex and allowed us to use each other for a release we both needed? “Don’t…I’m the one who is sorry,” I say, rubbing my eyes. I shake my head and try to refocus. “Looks like we’re going to be snowed in for the next day or two. As soon as the roads are passable, we’ll head to Philly.”

  “But what about your new job?” she asks.

  “I’ll push my start date back a few days.” I doubt the hospital will give me a problem. It’s not like people are gunning for my job. Trent told me that the position had been vacant for months before I applied.

  Clare opens her mouth as if she is going to say something, but then walks over to the fire and adds a log. She grabs the poker and starts to stoke the fire, but her hand slackens after a few seconds. Her gaze is fixed on the flames, as if they are coaxing her to tap out, to leave me once more. Her eyes flutter shut and I know she’s back there, in hell...

  • • •

  ?

  At some point while I was out cold, someone had slipped a tray with what I assumed was my breakfast, or maybe it was dinner, beneath my cell door. I stared at the granola bar and bottle of water knowing I should eat and drink fluids, but I couldn’t. My head pounded, and my back screamed from lying on the cement floor. But my aches and pains suddenly became nonexistent when I remembered what had happened to the woman in the cell across from mine. Was that last night? A few hours ago? I had no idea how long I had been down here. I figured it could be no more than three nights. I counted how many times I had gone to the bathroom and used that as a gauge.

  I walked over to the gated door and gave it a tug, but I already knew it would be locked. I peered into the woman’s cell and spotted her on the floor.
She was still naked, but now lying on her side, her back to me. The wounds from her beating were covered with bloody bandages. I wanted to tell her how sorry I was. Because of me she had been raped and nearly beaten to death. Because of me…

  “My name is Tia.”

  The woman’s voice was barely a whisper but I heard it. As I listened for the monsters down the hall, the woman rolled over, wincing the entire time, and faced me. I had seen her yesterday, but I hadn’t been able to get a good look at her. When I had thrown her that granola bar, she had been curled up in a ball in the corner of her cell, her blonde hair shielding her face.

  I stared into her blue eyes and fought back a sob. Somehow, I knew that she wouldn’t want to see me cry for her…to pity her. “Where are we?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. There was no emotion behind her words, no fire.

  I didn’t know how much time we had before those animals returned. I hadn’t seen or heard them for hours but that didn’t mean they weren’t watching us through the surveillance cameras. I glanced at the security camera above me and prayed that it didn’t record audio. “We’re going to get out of here, Tia. You’ll see. I’m going to…”

  I heard a door slam and then heavy footsteps coming from down the hallway. The sound prompted Tia to roll back over and me to step away from my cell door. The man with the goatee entered Tia’s cell. I couldn’t watch. Not again. I started to put my hands over my ears, to drown out the tortured woman’s bloodcurdling sobs, but instead I heard Goatee tell Tia to get up. Under a minute later, Tia was vertical and dressed for once. A black t-shirt, sweat pants and flip flops swallowed up her depleted body. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor.

  “Time to go, sweetheart. Your new master has come for you,” Goatee said.

  Tia was leaving. To go from the frying pan and into the fire. He grabbed her arm and walked her out of her cell and into the hallway. I gripped the bars and told Tia to fight, to run, to not give up. Tia didn’t so much as blink. Goatee smiled and gave me a once-over. Something flamed in his jet-black eyes as his gaze hovered at my breasts a little too long. I crossed my arms and he chuckled. I glared at him as he led Tia farther into hell.

  I needed to get out of this room. I may not get another chance. I remembered my uncomfortable pelvic exam and that bitch of a doctor. I sank to the floor and clenched my stomach. To make it more believable I crawled to the toilet in the corner of my cell and hovered over it. I stayed in that position for a minute and then dragged myself to the door and went into the fetal position.

  “Saw you on the monitor. What’s wrong with you?”

  Still clawing at my stomach, I looked up to see Spider Tattoo staring at me. “My stomach. It fucking hurts!” I let out a few moans for good measure. Spider Tattoo’s eyes narrowed as he studied me. I was just about to crawl back to the toilet and pray that I could make myself throw up, when I saw him take out his phone and dial someone.

  “Can you get over here?” he barked. I heard a muffled voice on the other end and saw his hand clench the phone tighter. “No, I didn’t fucking touch her. Just get here. The bitch is complaining about her stomach.” Appearing disgusted, he ended the call and left me lying there.

  The doctor showed up shortly after. Spider Tattoo took me to an exam room. That same heartless bitch I had met the first night I had arrived commanded me to strip. Playing the part, I did what I was told and lay back in the exam chair.

  “Have you ever been on birth control before?” the doctor asked.

  “No,” I spit out. Trying to make the charade believable, I winced and was even able to conjure up a few tears.

  Cold hands pressed on my stomach and then lower until her fingers grazed my hair line. I shuddered at this woman’s touch and then she pulled out that barbaric looking instrument, inserted it into my vagina and cranked me open. This time my wince was real, and I dug my finger nails into the pleather seat beneath me. A few tugs and a pinch later and the clamp was removed along with a T-shaped device.

  A phone rang from across the room. “Get dressed,” the doctor commanded. She set the clamp down on the table next to me, next to several medical instruments…including a scalpel, and went to answer her phone. I quickly slipped my yoga pants on and jammed my feet into my sneakers.

  “Looks like she had a reaction to her IUD. I’ll be back tomorrow morning with something new,” she said to the person on the phone. She turned her back to me. “Don’t worry. She’ll be ready for you.”

  I grabbed the scalpel and tucked it into the waistband of my pants.

  “I promise you, she hasn’t been touched. She’s healthy and clean. Exactly what you’ve been searching for. She’s the one.” The bitch nodded, said yes twice and ended her call. She then pressed a button on the intercom attached to the wall. “She’s done. Take her back to her cell.”

  This woman was so cold, just as mean, as stonehearted as the men, maybe even worse. Because she was a traitor to her own sex. Spider Tattoo walked in a few seconds later.

  “Did the doc make you all better? Cure your little bellyache?” he asked in a baby voice that made me want to puke.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” I said. His eyes darkened as our gazes locked.

  “Remember what the boss said,” the woman spat. There was no sympathy, no pity, just annoyance. The doctor grabbed her purse and keys from the counter and left.

  Spider Tattoo waited until the doctor left to slam me against the wall of the suffocating makeshift exam room. Crushed against his weight, I was forced to breathe in his stench. A combination of gasoline, beer and Doritos. Two fingers trailed down my cheek, and I fought the urge to spit in his face.

  “Your pussy and ass may be off limits, but the boss didn’t say anything about that smart little mouth of yours.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Griffin

  I am torn between waking her from this nightmare and putting her out of her misery or allowing for it to continue so we can learn more. But when her entire body starts to shake and the tears pour over and rush down her cheeks, I decide that I have had enough. “Clare!” I shout. She doesn’t flinch. She gives me nothing. No reaction. She is so far in her head and it is scaring the shit out of me. I run over and grip her shoulders. “Clare, wake up!” Finally, her eyes open and she looks at me.

  “Griffin?”

  Rage consumes me. That someone, some monster has put fear in her eyes, that uncertainty that she is really here with me and no longer in a nightmare.

  I pull her into my arms and hold her. “You’re with me. No one is going to hurt you,” I say into her hair.

  Although her body continues to shake while in my embrace, I take it as a good sign that she is able to speak, that shock hasn’t settled in. “After Tia, that was her name, the woman in the cell across from mine was led away, I knew I had to escape. I faked an illness so I could get out of my cell…to be taken to that doctor. But she was one of them. As heartless, as cruel as the two men who had raped and beaten Tia. The doctor removed the IUD that she had inserted earlier because she thought that I may have been having a reaction to it. That was when I stole the scalpel. When her back was turned, when she was on the phone with…” She squints her eyes. “I don’t know who she was talking to. And I can’t see her face. Just shadows and voices and shit that can’t help me in any way. Fuck!” she screams.

  “That’s not true. We know that a woman doctor is involved. I’ll call Trent and have him send me over the names and photos of all female doctors working in town and at the hospital. We can’t be certain that she practices medicine locally, but it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

  She sighs and nods her head. I can’t imagine how frustrating this is for her. To receive bits and pieces of her life in the form of visions and nightmares, and not be able to see the faces of those who tormented her. “We know Tia’s name. We can start researching her right now if you’re up to it. See if she turns up on any missing persons reports.”

  Clare wipes her tears away
with the back of her hand. “I am. Let’s do it,” she says, her fire returning.

  God, she is so fucking strong. “I’ll put some more coffee on,” I say, making my way to the kitchen. She retrieves my computer and starts searching. Hours pass. She sticks to it while I make dinner, but no viable hits turn up.

  I bring her dinner, but she is now asleep on the couch. I lift her in my arms and carry her to bed. I am tempted to crawl in next to her but I don’t. I pull the covers over her and then retire to the couch. Several hours later, screaming erupts from the other room and I rush to her. She is thrashing in bed, clawing at her sheets, her face distorted as she curses at her captors. I slip into bed and try to wake her. Stroking the curve of her cheek with my fingers, I call her name.

  “Get the fuck off me…you bastard!” she screams.

  “Clare, wake up!” I yell, cupping her face with both my hands. Her eyes shoot open. Even in the dark room, I can see her blue eyes frantically search mine, for recognition, for confirmation that she is here with me and not in that hell hole she had escaped from.

  “They won’t stop. The nightmares, they just keep coming.” I pull her to me and position us so that I am lying on my back while she cries onto my bare chest. Her breathing remains stuttered as she sobs. All I can do, all I can offer are a shhh and I got you and you’re safe.

  “I feel so helpless, so weak. I’m so sorry, Griffin. For coming here, for making you feel like you have to take care of me, for intruding on your life. You don’t deserve this.”

  I raise her chin with my fingers. “I want you here…and I want to be the one to keep you safe…even if I have to keep you safe from me.”

  “You would never hurt me,” she whispers.

  “You are becoming harder and harder to resist, Clare.” She lifts her head off my chest and looks at me. I can feel her nipples pebble through her shirt as they press against me. She feathers her fingers over my abs and I jolt from the sensation.