Levels Of Exposure (Distortion Series Book 2)

  LEVELS OF EXPOSURE

  The Distortion Series, Book 2

  By Aimee McNeil

  LEVELS OF EXPOSURE

  Copyright © 2016 by Aimee McNeil.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2016

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-922-1

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-922-9

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This one is for my haters.

  I hope you find lots of things to complain about and it makes you deliriously happy when you tear this up.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Stephanie

  The sound of a woman crying roused Stephanie’s attention. She felt like she was underwater as she tried to distinguish where the sound was coming from. When she tried to speak, her body wouldn’t cooperate…her mouth felt numb and filled with cotton. If she could actually force words through her throat she figured they would be covered in blood as the sharp pains scraped at her raw flesh. Stephanie wanted to call out to the woman whose tears reflected her own turmoil. The woman’s cries pulled at her heart and roused her mind, making it reel at a pace too fast for her uncooperative body.

  A shadow crossed over her and Stephanie forced her eyes to open. The dim lamp light lit the room as she tried to focus her eyes. It was a struggle to keep her lids open as her dry eyes worked against her, continually closing, making her find the strength to force them open again. Movement in her small cell caused adrenaline to aid her struggle. Stephanie blinked her eyes in confusion when she saw the blurry image of a woman in the corner, huddled in the shadow.

  Stephanie forced words up her torn throat. “Wh…nooo…” Her tongue felt too large for her mouth and refused to let her words pass. Stephanie closed her eyes tight against the pain before trying to speak again. When she opened them, the corner of the cell was empty and she was alone. Her eyes frantically searched the entire cell. A deep chill flashed across her skin, permeating her to the bone until her insides began to shake. Tears filled her eyes but she couldn’t lift her hands to wipe them away as they ran down her cheeks. The drugs made it hard to determine what was real and what was not.

  Stephanie had no idea how much time had passed. She was constantly in a drug-induced state. She knew her captor was drugging her food…it didn’t take her long to discover that she would lose consciousness shortly after she ate the food he left outside her cell. At first she didn’t mind it. She preferred to sleep instead of stare through the bars at the man who watched her silently from across the room. He wouldn’t give her answers. He would only stare at her with his dark mind churning behind those eyes that were anything but human. He seemed to be waiting for her tears. It was only then that his unmoving form would start to rouse, slowly rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. The more she cried, the more he enjoyed watching her. She gave up demanding him to tell her why she was here and pleading to let her go. All of her promises to never tell fell on deaf ears. This man did not intend to let her go.

  His routine was beginning to change and Stephanie feared what this meant for her. She remembered a bright light shining in her face; it was too bright to open her eyes. She tried to turn away but realized her arms were bound to her sides. Stephanie closed her eyes, trying to stop the memory from assaulting her. She wanted to drift back into nothingness, with so many drugs still in her system, it was easy to submit to sleep.

  The sensation of warm water trickling on her skin caused her to flinch, and she stretched her legs, pulling at firm straps that bound her feet. She was completely immobile and the fear jolted her awake. She lifted her head to see those dark eyes watching her. She couldn’t stop the tears that exploded with devastation. She was strapped to some kind of metal table, completely naked. Screams followed her tears as she fought with the ties binding her.

  His eyes flared as he squeezed the sponge in his hand, and water poured onto her. He began to rub the sponge in gentle circles against her leg while she struggled and tried to fight him unsuccessfully. “No…don’t do this, please…please!” Stephanie begged.

  She cried as he slowly washed her, using small gentle strokes as he meticulously covered every inch of her skin. Then he smoothed shaving cream on her legs before pulling a razor up the length of her shin. Stephanie jerked her leg and the sting of the blade burned across her skin.

  “Look what you did, Rose,” he said, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.” It was the first time he had spoken to her in what seemed like forever. His voice was strangely normal. She had imagined if he ever did say anything to her again it would sound evil, inhuman, because she couldn’t imagine a person capable of this. Instead, it was the first time she considered that this man might have the world fooled. Fear that no one would suspect him of evil made her shudder. What if no one ever came looking for her? The realization struck her that these dark confines might be the last place she ever knew. She could feel her last traces of hope slip through her fingers.

  “My name isn’t Rose,” Stephanie gasped through her tears.

  “Don’t be foolish,” he said as he grabbed a cloth and pressed it to her knee to stop the blood. “You don’t want to make me angry, do you, Rose?”

  A soft whimper escaped her throat as she shook her head no.

  “Good girl. You’re just confused after what had happened.”

  She retreated inside her head as he continued to shave her legs. She refused to give him any reaction as he worked on her, preparing her for something she could not let herself think about. Stephanie closed her eyes as warm water poured over her hair and then winced as his fingers began massaging soap into her scalp. The fruity scent filled her nose as she tried to block out her senses.

  She thought about Lexie and Evan and desperately hoped they were well. Thoughts of Lexie in this same situation threatened to break her. She focused on their faces, keeping them close as she searched for strength. She thought of her p
arents and their last conversation when they asked her to come for dinner that weekend. Her mother was making her favorite pasta dish and she tried to remember the excitement she felt when she was looking forward to eating until she was ready to explode, like every time she was treated to her mother’s cooking. She didn’t know if the weekend had already come and gone. She wondered if her parents knew she was missing and if they were looking for her. Her mother always worried about her, always fussing over the smallest details when it came to her only daughter.

  She thought of her boyfriend, Mike. They had barely spoken the last week before she had been taken. He hadn’t come home in three days because he had been staying with his friend. The last time they were together they had argued about the fact he had been hanging out at the local strip bar. She realized he had been lying to her when she heard a rumor that he had been seen throwing up outside The Lighthouse. The strip bar consisted of nothing more than a rundown building and pathetic display of talent upon the stage. She was more embarrassed than angry when she confronted him. Their last words to each other were harsh and she wondered if that would be how he remembered her.

  Stephanie had no idea how much time had passed, not knowing when one day turned into the next. She had so many things she wanted the people in her life to know and the realization that she would never see them again made her squeeze her eyes shut against the assaulting waves of pain.

  Stephanie stared at the dingy ceiling as he ran a comb through her hair, over and over. She tried to make her body numb and allow her mind to go somewhere else, but no matter how hard she tried, her fear kept her aware of what was happening. She was forced to endure every moment.

  She was surprised to feel relief when she saw a syringe in his hand. The prick of pain as he pushed it through her skin was welcomed as she closed her eyes and felt herself drift away.

  Stephanie looked down at her small cell, the cot in the corner, with the thin wrinkled sheet hanging off the edge, the dirtied floor and the bucket in the corner. She was looking down at herself sitting on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. She tried to scream out to herself but she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move. She could only watch herself cry in her misery.

  She watched herself lift her head and lean back against the concrete wall and that was when Stephanie realized it was not herself she was looking at, her features were undeniably similar but she knew it wasn’t her. She wondered how many others were locked in this cell. She could feel the despair as real as the bars caging her in. Stephanie wanted to ask who she was but she was unable to do anything but observe no matter how hard she fought. A force kept her just out of Stephanie’s reach.

  “Wake up.” Stephanie felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, so soft she thought she imagined it. She could feel a small protest bubble from her chest. “Wake up! He’s coming.” This time she could feel someone grasp her shoulders and give a shake. Stephanie jolted from sleep, pushing herself up to a sitting position. She pushed her back against the wall, brought her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms tightly around them. She couldn’t shake the disturbing dream. It had felt so real. The woman’s voice still floated around in her thoughts as she searched for her. She could still feel her hands on her shoulders. She reached up and placed her hands over the lingering sensation and sought comfort in the fact for the first moment since she arrived she didn’t feel so alone in this hell.

  The sound of the lock sliding in the door made Stephanie’s heart race, she could feel her pulse in her throat as she lay down and pretended to be asleep. She concentrated on slowing her breath to deep, even intervals, trying to block out the sound of his footsteps across the floor.

  His wedding band clinked against the bars but he remained quiet, watching her. “I know you’re awake, Rose,” he said after a stretch of time. The drugs in her system were wreaking havoc on her thoughts. She wasn’t sure how long had passed or if she had fallen asleep and this was another dream. She desperately wanted it to be a dream. She didn’t want to look at his face anymore and wonder if today would be the day he decided to kill her.

  Stephanie opened her eyes and looked at him. He was dressed in a suit with his tie loosened and hanging haphazardly around his neck, his haunting eyes never leaving her. His clothes looked expensive and she couldn’t’ help but wonder who he was when he left here. She wondered what woman would be married to a man like him and if she feared him like Stephanie did.

  “There you are.” He smiled at her, an expression that seemed unnatural for his face. “You need to eat, Rose.” He pointed to a tray of food she hadn’t touched. The wonderful smells had called to her but she couldn’t take any more drugs. She didn’t know what was real or not anymore.

  “No more drugs…they make me feel so sick,” Stephanie whispered. She could feel the physical toll weighing heavily on her exhausted body.

  “As long as you behave I don’t need to drug you.” He unlocked the cell door and then picked up the tray. Walking inside, he approached her bed and sat down, placing the tray on the edge. “Do you promise to behave?”

  Stephanie nodded her head and tried not to tremble. She didn’t want to show fear but it poured out of her regardless.

  He placed a hand on her arm and then ran it over the length of her body. “Good girl,” he said. “Good girl.” Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath until she felt the weight of his body leave the bed and the sound of the cell door closing behind him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jackson

  “I’m not fucking staying here!”

  “Calm down, Mr. Wethers.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm the fuck down. You calm the fuck down.”

  Jackson and Teddy both glanced at each other as they walked down the hospital hallway toward Dane’s room, where the voices originated from. A large grin spread across Teddy’s face and Jackson shook his head in disbelief.

  “What the fuck did you do, Teddy?”

  “Mansfield was the only available officer.”

  “You are such a fucking child.” Jackson sighed as he slowed in front of Dane’s open door.

  A nurse was standing in front of Dane, visibly trying to calm his fired temper. Mansfield stood against the wall, beads of sweat visibly breaking out across his forehead. He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously and shuffled his feet.

  “Please sit down, Mr. Wethers. You’re going to injure yourself again.” The frazzled nurse looked exhausted as she pleaded with Dane. Her grey hair was working free of her bun and frayed around her tired face.

  Jackson cleared his throat to alert the room of their arrival and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. Everyone in the room turned to address them.

  “Please don’t let us intrude. Carry on,” Teddy said encouragingly.

  Dane pointed his finger at Teddy with a glare, showcasing his rage. “You had something to do with this, didn’t you? If I have to listen to one more second of this idiot’s theories about video games and government he came up with living in his mother’s basement, I’m gonna shoot myself in the head, and then I will fucking come after you too,” Dane threatened Teddy.

  “You do see the obvious flaw in your plan, right?” Teddy continued to instigate Dane’s already ruffled feathers.

  “Teddy, take Mansfield for a coffee or something.”

  “Oh come on,” Teddy complained.

  “We don’t have time for this shit, Ted,” Jackson warned. Teddy was well aware of the situation.

  “Fine.” Teddy waved for Officer Mansfield to follow him. “Come on, Manny.”

  Officer Mansfield pushed off the wall hesitantly, his eyes remaining on Dane as he moved toward the door. His hands visibly shook, along with his round belly hanging over his belt. Mansfield was still relatively young, but he was built like a man that spent most of his life sitting at a desk. His strength was his mind, leaving his body underutilized. “Do you want me to bring you back a coffee and magazine?” Mansfield’s high voice wobbled slightly as he a
ddressed Dane.

  Dane’s eyes flared before he growled out in frustration. Mansfield backed out of the room without another word. Teddy grabbed his shoulder and began leading him down the hallway. “So tell me, Manny, is your mom hot?”

  Jackson closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning back toward Dane. He had to give Office Mansfield some credit; although the man was as socially awkward as they came, he was a good officer. He knew the rule book like a priest knew the bible and lived within the lines. He saw the world through a set of lenses that were uniquely his, and for some reason he looked up to Dane, always trying to impress him despite the fact that Dane’s patience for him was nonexistent.

  “Get me out of here, Jackson.” Dane’s gaze was full of meaning. Jackson knew Dane could only stand so much alone time before he would go stir crazy and apparently the company of Officer Mansfield was no better. He obviously had reached his limit, looking like he was ready to crawl out of his skin.

  “Slap a fresh bandage on him, we’re taking him home,” Jackson told the nurse.

  “His doctor hasn’t released him yet.”

  “I don’t care. He’s leaving,” Jackson said abruptly.

  “But…” the nurse began to argue but trailed off when she sensed Jackson’s impatience. “He’ll have to sign a waiver. I’ll go get the paperwork ready.”

  The nurse slipped out of the room. Jackson swung the door closed behind her.

  “It took you long enough.” Dane rubbed his hands down his face. His frayed edges were exposed from being confined to the small, bare room. Though he never admitted it, Jackson knew Dane had a fear of small spaces. He always chose the stairs instead of an elevator, no matter the amount of stairs he had to face, and he spent more time outside than anyone Jackson knew. Something about being confined by four walls and a ceiling never sat well with Dane. The three of them made quite the dysfunctional team, never wanting to talk about a past that haunted them and far too comfortable walking the line of danger to ever be mistaken for normal. They all worked together like a well-oiled machine, however, always getting results. It was the only reason Giles put up with them.