BLAKE: Captive to the Dark (12 page)

Chapter 9

Blake

The scenery blurred as I
forced my bike even faster along the two lane highway. Cars were sparse, which I was thankful for. Not that they would have slowed me down. The need to push myself past my own limits plagued me. For the first time, I’d gone too far. Possibly broken the only thing that had given itself to me completely. Kaitlyn had trusted me and I may have destroyed her past the point of no return. I knew she was trying to be strong, but if the damage was done, it didn’t matter how much she wanted to get better. It just simply wouldn’t happen. And it was all my fault. Fuck. What was wrong with me?

The festering within had my hand wanting to pull back to increase the speed even more. I’d hit over a hundred long ago. I was just being stupid, I knew that. But what did I have to lose? Nothing. My life was one escape from death after the next. Someday, I wouldn’t be so lucky, but I didn’t think today was going to be that fateful time.

The edges of town lay in the near distance and I made myself slow, pushing away the internal dread it caused me. A small, level bridge marked the outskirts and one slight turn brought me into the thoroughfare of what I liked to call Cowboy Nation. Old, two story buildings lined the road. Shops rested downstairs, where old abandoned apartments sat above. They were used more for storage space than anything else.  A few mom and pop restaurants held space, catering from BBQ to Mexican cuisine, but food wasn’t what I was after. I slowed down as I approached the first light. I’d grab Kaitlyn some clothes, then I had a special stop to make. One that would hopefully shine light on my situation.

Macey Jae’s was a fancy little boutique on the far corner, all nestled with zebra print scarves displayed in the window and pink blouses with matching white skirts resting on mannequins. I groaned. Unless I wanted to go into the city, I was screwed. Macey was about to lay out a million questions and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The moment the light turned green, I parked my bike around the side. Without thought, I reached for the strap to my helmet, only to remember I wasn’t wearing one. I should have been, but I’d been in such a hurry. The only things I’d grabbed were my sunglasses, cellphone, and keys. It made me angrier to know that I’d been running away. Best not think of that now. For appearance sake, I had to pretend to at least be normal. Relaxed. Not clenching my jaw, wishing to unleash my beast on the first person who I prayed pissed me off. Too many worries were going through my mind and the only thing I could think of was that I’d left Kaitlyn alone.
Alone.
Was she okay? She couldn’t stand for me to be out of her sight for long, and that was when I was at the house. How was she? Was she crying? Still traumatized by the attacked she’d had?
Had—
because of me. Because of what I’d done to her. I sighed. The only solace I could take was that she was resting behind the best security system money could buy. At least there was nothing for me to worry about concerning that.

I kicked the stand and let the bike’s weight ease off my leg and rest on its own.
I stood and pulled out my phone, hitting Jack’s number. He answered almost immediately.

“Hey, Morgan.”

I smiled. “You’re sounding awake today. I take it I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“No, just running some errands, what’s up?”

Damn, I hated always calling with something more for him to do. “Kaitlyn’s being blackmailed. Guy wants a hundred and fifty grand. Can you look up the number and tell me if you can get anything? I plan on searching out the IP address from the email he sent a little later on.”

“
Blackmailed?” He paused. “Holy shit. Yeah, sure thing. Let me get my pen.”

While he got quiet, I hit buttons, bring
ing up the call history. I glared at the number like it was my enemy. Like it was the bastard, himself.

“Okay
, ready whenever you are.”

I slowly went through the digits, noticing that I was also pulling at my collar. Being away from Kaitlyn wasn’t working out
so well for me. I already felt the need to rush back home. To see the damage I had caused and try to fix it. But, I couldn’t. My answers were hopefully here in town.

“Okay, got it. I’ll be heading to the station a little later. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Thanks, buddy.” I hung up the phone and shoved it back in my pocket.

The walk into the store was the hardest. I didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to socialize. Truly, I hated people. I made myself interact.
But today I wasn’t feeling it.

“Blake Morgan. What are you doing here?” Mac
ey’s voice was thick with a Texas accent. I forced my smile bigger and shoved my hands in my pocket so I wouldn’t make a fist.

“Just picking up some stuff for a friend. How are you today, Mrs. Wilson?”

“Mrs. Wilson, my ass. I’m only a year older than you.”

I laughed. “Okay, then. Macey
, how are you?”

Red hair fell over her shoulders in waves and she looked every bit the homecoming queen I remembered. Well, minus the boob job. She didn’t have much back then. I would know. Not that I’d fucked her, but she sure as hell had tried. Thought by taking off her top
, I’d be enticed. What I held scared me even back then. I’d pushed her away more out of the fear I felt for hurting her, than by the fact I wasn’t attracted. Had I known I could control myself, I probably would have gone all the way. Not now, though. Not after Kaitlyn. I wasn’t sure anyone would ever be able to hold a candle to what she and I shared last night. 

“I could be better.” The statement was left open and I ignored it. Married women weren’t my thing. Women that weren’t Kaitlyn….dammit. She’d ruined me. All I wanted was her. Under me. Begging. Somewhat dying, yet trusting me to allow her to live. Kaitlyn had done that, and so much more. Never once had she given me the impression she was hurting to the point that she apparently was. How had I missed that? Not that I was really so focused on the physical aspect of it anymore. The bruises would heal, as would the marks. But
, her mind? No. That’s what I wanted to know about.

“Well?” A thinly shaped eyebrow lifted, accompanied by a slight tinge of annoyance. “Whatcha’ need help with? You looking for something in particular?”

“Everything.” I locked out Kaitlyn temporarily and focused on the racks of clothes around me. “I need a few outfits, dresses, some nice, some for everyday use. Size small. Shoes to go with them. Size 8.” I grabbed a purse, needing something to hold. “This will do. Just…girl stuff. A collection that will last a week…maybe longer.” Fuck.
Longer.
Yes. I wanted to keep her. Wanted to refuse her if she ever asked to go back. Not that I was sure she would any time soon. Not after today. Could I do it? Take care of Kaitlyn and not touch her while she healed. How long would that take? “Listen, Macey, I have a few things I need to take care of. Just bag everything up and I’ll pick it up on my way out.”

The purse was taken from my hand. “Will do,
Mr. Morgan
.” She threw a wink at me and I returned it with a smile. It was the best I could do as I raced for the door. The jingling sound disappeared in the distance as I jogged down the road to Dr. Skinner’s. The moment I opened the door, the all too familiar smell of lavender invaded my senses. Wood paneling covered the walls and my lips nearly snarled at the memories of the house back in Russia.

“Blake, honey
, how are you?” I looked down into Glenda’s round face. Such joy always radiated from my aunt. How was it to be so happy all the time? Must be nice.

“Hey
, Aunt Glenda. Is Uncle Bill free? I need to have a word with him.”

As if my timing could
n’t have been any more perfect, an older gentleman walked from the room, my uncle following closely behind. “Now, remember what I said, William. If you have any problems, you give me a call.”

“Will do, Doc.”

My uncle’s gaze lifted to me and narrowed the slightest bit. I knew he’d always felt something was off with me, so I’d done my best to avoid him over the years. But Kaitlyn needed help and he was the only one I knew I could go to that would be honest and upfront.

“Blake.” He walked forward, outstretching his hand. I shook it firmly, but not too much. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel intimidated. And
, he would be. Where his office portrayed calm, I was a tornado, ready to destroy everything in my path.

“Hey, Uncle Bill. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes. It shouldn’t take long.”

The smell of cigar smoke assaulted me as he waved me into his office. He may not have smoked while clients were in the room, but he definitely indulged when he was alone. It didn’t mix right with the lavender and left me pulling at my collar.

Pictures of soothing paintings covered the walls. Most of them had to do with a serene looking river and a man standing in the middle, fishing. The set of four w
ere views of different angles. I tore my gaze from them and scanned the knickknacks sitting on top of the bookshelf. A black lounger rested to the right. Not far from that sat a matching loveseat. I would have taken a seat had I not been so antsy. This room gave me the creeps. Why, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I feared my uncle would see through my façade. Perhaps he already had.

“What can I help you with, Blake?” The height difference between the two of us was startling. I clearly didn’t get his side of the gene pool. Where I was six
-foot-three, he was barely five-foot-nine.

I took a step back, putting space between us. The light blue button up shirt and matching grey and blue tie he wore caught my attention
. I blinked hard, trying to stop myself from getting distracted by everything. What was I afraid of? I took a deep breath. I knew—that I’d ruined her.

“The last few years I’ve done some undercover work.” Not completely a lie
. “I’ve helped rescue women who were kidnapped for the sake of sex trafficking.”

“I’ve known for some time. The realization was refreshed when I saw the news the other morning.” My uncle walked around the desk and sat down, never taking his eyes off of me. “You helped save those girls. But, I noticed you stuck close to the famous one. Saw a clip of the two of you leaving the hospital.”

My eyes lowered. “Right. I forgot about the news.” I met his stare. “Kaitlyn isn’t right in the head, but she refuses to see a therapist like I’ve suggested. She had some sort of breakdown earlier today. A really bad one.”

“Sounds like Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, which is what we in this profession like to call it. Tell me what happened.”

Fuck. I couldn’t do that. Not the entire truth, anyway. “She was watching a show. It showed a clip of a woman tied up. We got into an argument and I suggested that maybe she should go back to California. She doesn’t want to. For some reason she’s…attached to me. Anyway, she went crazy when I mentioned it. She started crying and suddenly, she wouldn’t stop. It got harder and she started screaming things as though she was responding to something someone said. As if…she were still a slave. After a few minutes in the shower, she came back around.”

My uncle nodded his head, slowly. “And she won’t see anyone?”

“No.” I started pacing. “Do you think the show had something to do with it initially? I mean, it was right before the breakdown.”

“Did she seem upset when you saw her watching it, or did she have this episode when you mentioned her going home?”

The dark carpet beneath my shoes kept my attention. I couldn’t look at my uncle. Didn’t want to. “No. She was fine watching the show. At least, to my knowledge. Actually, if I didn’t know better, I’d say she liked it.”

The chair squeaked as Bill stood. “There you go. She’s probably just afraid to face her life. Her future. Were you the one who actually saved her?”

“Yes.” Finally, I looked over at him. “I was the first one she saw.” I had to make things clearer for him. I just couldn’t drop my concerns. “She’s very attached to me. More so than what’s probably healthy for her. That worries me.”

“She needs to find her strength
. Become empowered by what she’s been through. To do that, the fear will have to be overcome. Not really sure how that’ll be managed with what she’s gone through.”

I could think of some ways, but I pushed back my dark side while he continued.

“It’s hard to suggest what needs to be done without actually seeing her or knowing her history. Even then, the only things that come to mind are either Operant Conditioning or Systematic Desensitization.”

As he started describing the differences of the two, my mind
wouldn’t stop racing. Nothing he was saying was really making sense. I was too worked up.

“You would first have to find the fear hierarchy.” At my eyebrows drawing in, he waved his hand. “Say the patient is afraid of spiders. Now, were you to pull out a picture of a spider, the fear hierarchy would fail in comparison to, say, if you were to bring one into the room. Or even have the patient hold one. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “Yeah. So, are you saying she needs to face her fears?”

Bill slightly shook his head. “Yes, but not like you may think. Time plays a big part. It’s really up to the therapist to judge the patient’s behavior and decide when, in their professional opinion, it’s time to move to the next step.”