Finding Wisp Page 18

  I wasn’t about to risk taking a hammer to the metal manacles, and I obviously didn’t have the key. If only I had some wire on hand…

  “Try the VCR.”

  I tensed at the suggestion Abram threw my way – apparently, he’d been thinking the exact same thing I had been – before offering a terse nod and approaching the old, box-style television set up on one of the room’s dressers. The VCR was underneath it and I unplugged it before prying off the top, digging through the parts before I began pulling out the wire with my bare hands.

  “What are you doing?” Wisp asked from her spot on the carpet. Thane had let her sit up at least, but had planted his weight firmly in her lap.

  I picked up one of the wires. “I’m going to get those damn cuffs off you,” I answered as I approached her. “Get off,” I ordered Thane, unimpressed with the way he growled at me in response.

  “Hush, boy,” Wisp scolded gently before patting him on the butt. “Come on, now. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” She stiffened the moment the words escaped her mouth, looking up at me like she’d committed some sort of social faux pas.

  Like she thought that maybe she would be going somewhere.

  I swallowed. “Of course you’re not going anywhere,” I reassured softly.

  Thane whined, but eventually moved when I threatened to kick him in the rear with the toe of my shoe.

  I helped Wisp stand, relishing in the feeling of her hand once again in mine before having to reluctantly let it go when she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Hold out your wrists,” I instructed, and she quickly obeyed, setting her hands, palm-side up, on her lap. I folded the copper wire until it was the right thickness before crudely digging it into the keyhole of the right cuff. After a bit of tinkling, her wrist was free.

  My stomach lurched at the state of her skin beneath the shackle. Her entire wrist was covered in bruises. It was scraped raw, with broken skin in some places, like she’d pulled against the metal over and over again in an effort to free herself.

  A dull roar resounded in my ears, my blood pounding as the urge to riptearkill whomever had done this to her – Felix, I knew it was him – nearly overpowered me.

  The only thing stopping me from going out and committing murder right then was the feeling of Wisp’s worried eyes drilling a hole into my forehead. That, and another – foreign – feeling fighting for dominance inside me.

  Because just as badly as I wanted to kill, I wanted to heal. I wanted to kiss Wisp’s wounds better, lick at them until I was sure they didn’t hurt nearly as badly as they looked like they did.

  Still, my skin buzzed with barely repressed anger as I vacantly unlocked the other cuff.

  Her left wrist was in just as bad of shape as her right.

  “Thank you,” Wisp murmured when I was finished, bringing her hands to her chest, where she carefully rubbed at the dark bruises wrapped around her wrists like some sick parody of jewelry.

  I stiffened at the words.

  Thank you?

  Wisp shouldn’t be thanking me. She should fucking hate me. I was nearly as responsible for her injuries as the man who’d shackled her to the wall in the first place. I didn’t deserve Wisp’s thanks; I deserved her scorn.

  But she was staring at me like she was waiting for some sort of response, so I forced out the words “you’re welcome” between clenched teeth.

  Wisp frowned, like she could somehow sense my lack of sincerity, but she didn’t call me out on it. Instead, she glanced inquisitively around the room. “Can I use the bathroom?” she asked, running a hand through her hair and grimacing when her fingers got stuck in the tangled locks. “I could really use a shower.”

  The question reminded me of the way she would carefully ask my permission for every little thing when I’d first taken her in: if she could have a drink of water, use my shower.

  A month and a half later, we were back at square one.

  “Of course you can,” I hastily agreed when she shifted nervously, and I realized I’d been quiet for a beat too long. I nodded towards the bathroom door. “It’s right through there.”

  Wisp flashed me a smile – a small, brittle thing – before standing and heading to where I had pointed her. A small scuffle ensued when Thane thought he needed to join her in the shower, but after a stern dressing-down (from me) and a pile of reassurances (from her), he reluctantly allowed her entry into the bathroom.

  A few minutes after she disappeared behind the door, the sound of the shower coming to life hit my ears, the din of running water the only noise filling the room.

  At least until the ruckus Abram made stomping towards the door.

  With Wisp sitting in front of me, I’d essentially forgotten about the man.

  “Where are you going?” I asked when he jerked open the door, a cool breeze wafting into the room.

  “To the front desk,” he answered tightly, turning to face me, “to ask for a first aid kit.”

  Feeling foolish for not thinking of it earlier, I nodded.

  He turned back to face the outside, but paused in the doorway. “When I get back, I’ll make myself scarce,” he muttered. “Maybe I’ll take your demented dog for a walk, calm him down a little so he doesn’t knock her down again.”

  More like he wanted to go for a walk to calm himself down. I could tell by the stiff line of his shoulders and his agitated gait that he was nearly as upset over Wisp’s injuries as I was.

  Regardless, I recognized Abram’s offer to leave for what it was – a chance to be alone with Wisp, to hold her and… talk.

  I grimaced.

  Still, I wasn’t about to let such an opportunity go by, so I nodded my acceptance of his words. That didn’t stop a deep-seeded feeling of nervousness from lingering, however. Fear, even.

  Fear? Of what? A sardonic voice demanded. Of a little girl who weighs a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet – maybe?

  The answer was “yes”. Not because she ever could – or would – physically hurt me, but because she was the only person alive who had the power to hurt me emotionally.

  As it was, I knew I deserved every bit of castigation she threw my way.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Steaming water erupted out of the showerhead, and the tension in my shoulders slowly eased as the spray dribbled against them. While the water pressure at The Palace Inn – I’d taken note of the name as Abram had parked – left something to be desired, I couldn’t complain about the temperature.

  The water beating against my skin was scorching hot, leaving it pink as it washed away two weeks’ worth of grime.

  Most of it, anyway.

  A lump of something – I would fiercely deny that they were tears – welled in my throat when I realized that some of the “dirt” was actually bruises. Most of the marks were on my arms, but I stiffened – the tension in my shoulders returning – when I discovered finger-shaped bruises on my hips.

  The memory of how I’d acquired them flashed through my mind.

  “Hold still,” Felix hissed in my ear.

  “I’m trying,” I snapped back.

  That was the whole point of this “lesson”, after all. (As far as I could tell, anyway.)

  The goal was to stay as still as possible as Felix… well, as he did whatever he wanted to me. He had unlocked me from the cuffs for the exercise, and while my sore wrists were grateful for the reprieve, it made the urge to haul off and deck the man doubly hard to control.

  Especially when Felix was lying practically on top of me.

  He’d made me rest on my side on top of the dingy mattress, and I’d barely withheld a protest when he had lain down beside me a moment later, spooning me like we were lovers instead of hostage and... well, hostage-holder.

  “Not hard enough,” Felix rebuked. “You think your future husband wants some antsy vagabond in bed?”

  No, it’d been made pretty clear that Graham Vanderbilt wanted a docile, little doll.

  “Now stay put and let me do
as I please. Consider it practice for the real deal.” Felix’s hand moved from where it rested loosely around my waist, and my stomach clenched when his fingers dipped under the hem of my camisole, grazing bare skin. “If he wants to touch you like this,” he whispered in my ear, “you let him. And if he wants to touch you like this…”

  I tensed when dry lips were suddenly pressed against the back of my neck.

  “Stop!” I yelled, jerking away from him.

  No sooner had I moved than Felix flipped me over onto my back, pinning me in place. I winced when his fingers dug into my hips, his grip bruising. “What’s wrong, Sloane, huh?” he hissed from where he hovered over me. “Derek never touch you like this?”

  I stiffened.

  Derek.

  Felix had made sure to emphasize his name, both of us knowing that the mere mention of the man was enough to cause the fight to flee from me.

  After all, I couldn’t oppose Felix if it meant putting Derek in danger. I wouldn’t. We both knew that I would rather lie there and let Felix… let him…

  I pressed my lips together and squeezed my eyes tightly shut, begging for my brain to shut itself off when Felix returned his lips to my neck, dragging them past my pulse point. I could feel the way he grinned against my skin in response to my compliance. “That’s a good girl,” he praised.

  I forcibly tore myself from the memory, blindly cranking up the heat of the shower until it was at its hottest setting. Then I unwrapped the bar of courtesy soap on the shower shelf before beginning to rub my skin raw.

  I didn’t know why I did it, exactly. The disgust I felt wasn’t with what was on the outside, after all, but what was on the inside. And, anyway, no amount of scouring would erase the marks. They were still there after stubbornly wiping at them for minutes on end.

  Giving up after a while, I turned my attention to the mess of tangles atop my head. The typical hotel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner that lined the shelf weren’t nearly enough to thoroughly wash my hair, but I emptied one container and then the other into my hands anyway. Then I got to work rubbing it into my hair, attempting to use my fingers to comb out the knots.

  It wasn’t until the spray from the showerhead began to cool that I was finished, and I reluctantly shut off the water before stepping out of the shower.

  Steadfastly avoiding my reflection in the mirror, I used one of the towels hanging near the shower to dry off. It wasn’t until wrapping it around my wet hair that I realized I didn’t have any clean clothes to change into. The only things I had were the filthy sleep pants and dirt-stained camisole I’d been forced to wear the past two weeks.

  I really didn’t want to get back into the soiled pajamas.

  Grabbing another towel and wrapping it around my torso, I clasped the edges to my chest before opening the door and peeking out of the bathroom. “Um… Derek?” I called hesitantly.

  “Yes?” he replied, at the door in seconds, like he’d been doing nothing but thinking of me – waiting for me to get out – since I’d gotten into the shower.

  I fought off a blush at the thought.

  “Do you have any spare clothes?” I asked, glancing behind me at the soiled ones on the grout-infested, tiled floor. “I mean, it’s just… I don’t-”

  But he didn’t make me explain. “Yes,” he interrupted, “of course. I should have thought of that. Just give me a minute, okay?”

  I nodded. He disappeared then reappeared a moment later, handing me a familiar-looking plaid button-up and a pair of athletic shorts. “Here.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered, offering him a grateful smile before shutting the door. Shucking off the towels, I quickly pulled the shirt over my head, unable to resist the urge to bring the fabric of the collar to my nose and inhale the familiar scent of Derek’s musk.

  Almost immediately, it worked to settle my nerves, and I tugged the shorts up my legs. They looked ridiculous on me, hanging down to nearly my shins, and I had to tie the drawstrings around my waist three times to get them to stay up, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than the filthy pajamas.

  When I was finished dressing, I stepped out of the bathroom.

  Derek stood from where he was sitting on the edge of one of the queen-sized beds as soon as he saw me. He opened his mouth, like he had planned something to say, but he shut it a moment later, a furrow creasing his brow and a frown pulling at his lips.

  A jolt of insecurity shot down my spine, making my belly squirm. “What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing down at myself, wondering if I’d somehow managed to put his shirt on inside-out.

  “Nothing, it’s just… your skin is red,” he pointed out.

  I tensed at the observation – the almost scolding quality of his voice – like he knew I’d had the water on way too hot. “The water was warm,” I answered simply, involuntarily crossing my hands over my chest in a defensive gesture.

  Judging by the tick in his jaw, Derek had more he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he remained silent, just looking at me.

  So, as usual, I filled the silence.

  “Where did Abram go?” I asked, glancing around the room. He and Thane were both missing, and while my reunion with the latter had filled me with delight, I could admit that I was grateful for his absence. It gave Derek and I a chance to be alone, and me a chance to ask all the questions whirling around inside my brain without an audience.

  “He took Thane on a walk,” Derek said. “But not before he brought back a first aid kit from the front desk.” He lifted up the plastic container I’d just then noticed in his hands. “For your wrists,” he added, like an explanation was necessary. He paused. “Can I see?” he asked carefully, nodding at the limbs I’d purposefully allowed the sleeves of Derek’s overly large shirt to hang past.

  As illogical as it was, part of me wanted to say “no”. I didn’t want to look at the damage that Felix and his cuffs had done to me, let alone let Derek see.

  But he already has seen it, a voice pointed out logically.

  Yeah, and the muscles had bulged out of his neck like he had wanted to kill someone.

  Regardless, the voice was right, so I nodded before hesitantly taking a seat on the edge of the same bed that Derek had been sitting on a moment before.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, voice purposely blank as he set the first aid kit down next to me on the floral-patterned quilt.

  I thought of the bruises that decorated my arms and the finger-shaped marks on my hips and quickly shook my head. “No!” I exclaimed. Then, at his severe look, added, more calmly, “No... I… it’s just my wrists.”

  I was an awful liar, but miraculously, Derek didn’t call me out on it. Most likely, he wanted it to be true badly enough to believe it, and when the stiff line of his shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit, I knew I’d made the correct decision to lie.

  Although his eyes did flicker to my mouth before he went back to shuffling through the first aid kit. “And your lip,” he reminded me gently.

  “And my lip,” I agreed, having forgotten about the cut I’d acquired two weeks ago that hadn’t had the chance to heal.

  Derek must have found what he was looking for in the kit because he carefully rolled up my sleeves before kneeling in front of me. Then he got to work applying some sort of salve to the damaged skin of my wrists.

  I winced when some of the cool jelly passed over an open gash on my left palm, but it left behind a tingling – almost numbing – sensation – and soon enough, I was able to relax into the feeling of Derek’s fingers gently rubbing the concoction into my bruised skin.

  As amazing as it felt, however, I couldn’t unwind completely.

  There was so much I wanted to ask, and I couldn’t physically hold the questions in any longer. “So…” I began, voice coming out more tentative than I’d wanted, “how did you find out about Felix?”

  Derek tensed at the name, his fingers slipping from my wrist.

  “That he started the fire, I mean,” I qu
ickly clarified, knowing there was a lot that Felix had done that the man before me was upset about. “The one that, you know… killed your parents,” I added quietly.

  “I didn’t know it was him who set it, actually,” Derek replied after a moment, diligently returning to spreading the salve over my wrists. He sounded surprisingly calm considering the subject matter.

  I wrinkled my brow in confusion. “But you said-”

  “I just knew that the Vanderbilts had a hand in it,” he illuminated, “that they likely ordered one of their enforcers to do the actual dirty work. I didn’t know until tonight that Felix was that enforcer.”

  “Then how did you find out about the Vanderbilts?”

  “Abram told me,” Derek answered simply, reiterating what he’d told me in the basement.

  I nodded. “You said that reconnecting with him was a long story,” I pointed out. “That I had something to do with it?”

  Derek snorted, the sound half-amused, half-disbelieving. “Yeah, after seventeen years of avoiding me, he dropped by the cabin to let me know that I needed to get a better handle on my little girlfriend.” He glanced up at me. “Apparently, she had been leaving containers of cupcakes out in the woods for him to find.”

  Blood rushed to my cheeks. With everything else going on, I’d completely forgotten about that. “They were muffins, actually,” I amended thoughtlessly. “Oh, and cookies.”

  Derek raised his eyebrows.

  “So what then?” I asked, ignoring the incredulous expression. “He told you that it was the Vanderbilts who burned down your parents’ house? Just like that?”

  “Something like that, yeah,” Derek confirmed, refocusing his attention on my wrists.

  “But, how did he even know?” I pressed. “I mean, I assume he told you why they did it, right?”

  It was something I’d been wondering since Felix had revealed to me that he and the Vanderbilts had been responsible for the fire. All he’d said was that Derek’s parents had been sticking their noses where they shouldn’t have been, which left open an entire realm of possibilities.