Keep Me Safe

  Caleb was to sit on the couch.

  With a sigh, Caleb sank onto the edge of the couch.

  Beau strode in behind Eliza, his eyes haunted as they traveled the length of Caleb’s body, taking in the gory sight of so much blood.

  “Would everyone stop looking at me like that and tell me what the fuck is going on?” Caleb roared in frustration.

  “I’ll do you one better,” Beau said grimly. “I’ll show you.”

  With shaking hands, he punched a series of buttons on his phone and then turned, shoving the screen into Caleb’s line of vision.

  “I can’t watch this again,” Eliza said, turning away but not before Caleb saw the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes.

  Caleb focused his gaze on the LCD screen, his dread growing with every passing second. His brow furrowed when he realized someone had filmed him and Ramie in bed, asleep.

  Movement from the bed silenced him when he would have demanded an explanation.

  “What the fuck?” he murmured when he saw himself get up and exit the bedroom. Time on the video continued to elapse and he frowned, wondering who the hell had been in the room with him and Ramie. His eyes caught movement again and he leaned forward, shocked to see himself return, carrying a wicked-looking blade.

  “What the . . .”

  He went deathly still, every muscle painfully contracting in his body. Bile rose in his throat as he stared in utter horror at the events that played out on the screen. No. No. No. This could not be happening. No goddamn way. They couldn’t think . . .

  He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him with such disgust that it staggered him. And Dane, who looked as ill as Caleb felt.

  They did think . . .

  He bent over and dry-heaved on the floor, nothing left in his stomach to come up. He’d never been so sick in his entire life. Sick at heart.

  “Get it out of my sight,” Caleb choked out. “Dear God, you can’t think I did something so horrific. I love her!”

  Dane’s gaze was fastened on the screen, his features ice cold.

  “That says right there you did,” Dane spit out. “You want to tell us where you took her?”

  “I didn’t take her anywhere, goddamn it! Why won’t you listen to me?”

  “Because we have overwhelming evidence to the contrary,” Beau said, his voice shaking.

  Sick fear twisted Caleb’s insides. His own brother was convinced of his guilt. For the first time, Caleb considered the very real ramifications of that damning video. This would be a slam-dunk case. Nothing Caleb said or did would make any difference. Everyone who saw the footage would immediately convict him in their minds—and in a court of law.

  And then like a floodgate giving way, memories of last night—and of others—crashed through his mind with dizzying speed. Indescribable pain flayed his chest open, leaving him bleeding on the inside.

  Huge, welling sobs choked him, cutting off his oxygen. He staggered and fell to his knees. “No!” he yelled hoarsely. “Oh God, no, no, no!”

  He buried his face in his hands and rocked back and forth, so utterly sick at heart that he’d never be right again.

  “Caleb, what is it, damn it?” Beau demanded.

  Eliza and Dane exchanged worried glances, for the first time uneasy, worried that maybe somehow they had been wrong? But the proof didn’t lie.

  Tears streamed down Caleb’s face in a never-ending river of grief. Oh God, how could he have done it? He wanted to die. He deserved to die for his sickening betrayal of an innocent.

  He’d killed her. No one else. She’d died by his hand, the man who loved her. The same man who’d sadistically carved her up at the behest of a madman.

  Caleb had been responsible for the bomb that had destroyed his home and could have killed his family. He’d worried about protecting her from evil when it was him who proved to be the monster.

  “Arrest me,” Caleb said in a hollow voice that in no way sounded like the same man. “I did it. Take me to the police.”

  Beau glanced worriedly up at Dane and Eliza.

  “The poor bastard,” Dane muttered.

  “I don’t think he did it,” Eliza said slowly as she reached for the phone in Dane’s outstretched hand. A phone that Caleb refused to even look at now.

  Beau yanked his head in Eliza’s direction. “What? You saw what I saw. What on earth would make you say something like that?”

  “I didn’t want to watch—I stopped watching when it began,” Eliza said, her eyes dark and haunted. “But just now . . . Oh God, it’s sick but I don’t think he did it. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe or not believe.”

  “You aren’t making any goddamn sense,” Beau snarled. “Now, if there is a chance, any chance that my brother didn’t do this then you need to tell me what you know before it’s too late for him.”

  Her hands shaking, she took the phone, pain and grief swamping her eyes. She hit a button and winced when the video began playing just as Caleb brought the knife down and Ramie screamed.

  “T-there,” Eliza stammered, pausing the video clip. She turned the phone around and shoved it in Dane’s face. “Tell me what you see.”

  Dane frowned, studying the still shot of Caleb kneeling over Ramie’s body. Then his heart slammed against his chest and his breath expelled in a rush, as though someone had just sucker-punched him.

  “His nose is bleeding. Sweet mother of God,” Dane said in horror. “A psychic bleed. The bastard was controlling him the entire time and Caleb was trying to fight back. Just like Ramie did when she saw the bomb.”

  “What?” Beau said in disbelief.

  “He’s fighting the compulsion. Fighting himself and what he knows he’s doing,” Dane said quietly.

  “You’re saying Caleb wasn’t cognizant of doing this?” Beau demanded.

  “Dane, look,” Eliza hissed.

  Dane and Beau swung around to see Caleb on his knees, his face drawn in a black rage, blood streaming from his nose and over his mouth. It was a macabre sight but not as gruesome as the video footage of Ramie being systematically carved up by an unwilling hand.

  Caleb’s face was stony, his features rigid, his eyes glazed over with a faraway look to them.

  “I think he just went after the bastard,” Dane murmured.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  CALEB was pale and sweaty, his hands shaking, his head throbbing from the effort of trying to trace the mental pathway back to the killer.

  Realization was slick and oily with fear. His head pounded, his heart broken into a million pieces.

  “Dear God,” he whispered. “It was him. Goddamn it! That fucker used me to get to her.”

  “What the fuck is going on, Caleb?” Dane shouted.

  “He bumped into me on the street. I didn’t think a thing of it. How could I have? Psychic links are hokey bullshit. He set me up. He established the link when he grabbed my arm and then he used me to turn off parts of the surveillance system so he could get in to plant the bomb. He used me to torment Ramie and hand her over to him on a silver platter,” Caleb choked out, grief consuming him.

  Eliza, Dane and Beau stared at Caleb in abject horror. Then Eliza stepped forward, her expression determined as she got down on her knees in front of Caleb. She framed his face in her hands and shook him fiercely.

  “You have to find her, Caleb. If the killer established a link to you then you have a link to him as well. Just like Ramie had. It will enable you to see into the killer’s mind and through his eyes.”

  “I can’t do what Ramie does,” Caleb said in frustration. “I’m not psychic like her.”

  “You’re not doing anything,” Eliza said impatiently. “The killer is. All you have to do is use the already established pathway into his mind.”

  “Do it, Caleb. What have you got to lose?” Beau said tersely. “If we don’t get Ramie back, you’ll go to jail for her murder. Time is of the essence. We may already be too late.”

  “Don’t goddamn say
that!” Caleb roared. “We aren’t too late. We can’t be too late.”

  He closed his eyes and tried to shut down everything around him. Frustrated by his inability to trace any sort of pathway back to the killer, he rammed his fist into the floor.

  Eliza slid her cool hand over Caleb’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’re trying too hard,” she said softly. “Relax and let it happen. Think only about finding Ramie and then open your mind.”

  He huffed breath in and out, rage blowing like a firestorm inside him. The realization of just what he’d done, unwittingly or not, sickened him. It was a burden he’d bear for the rest of his life. That one night would haunt him forever.

  He tried to relax, focusing on Ramie’s image. Her smile. Her beauty and resilience. She deserved better than a weakling who could be bent to another’s will.

  There was a brief moment of peace and then he was assaulted by a bombardment of images. Ramie bruised and bloodied, arms tied over her head, legs spread-eagled and tied to posts thrusting upward from the floor.

  The killer taunted her, demanding that she beg for mercy. She remained quiet, her eyes defiant as she stared him down. The killer flew into a rage, kicking and lashing out at Ramie, her body jerking from the multiple blows.

  Then she lifted her gaze, hatred glittering in the depths of her eyes.

  “Go to hell,” she said through swollen lips, blood spitting from her mouth with the effort.

  Caleb curled his fingers into tight fists until his nails dug into the skin of his palms. Baby, no. Do whatever it takes to stay alive, even if it means surrendering. Please, stay alive for me. I’ll come for you. I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll find you.

  Tears burned the edges of his eyes and carved a path down his cheeks.

  Knowing the sight of her distracted him from his main purpose, he reluctantly blocked her out, focusing his entire energy on her captor. Images blurred and raced chaotically through his mind. Caleb’s view of the inside of the killer’s mind was a view of insanity. Utter derangement. Evil emanated from him in waves.

  His head ached vilely but he pressed on, determined not to give up until he knew where Ramie was being held. He’d free her if it was the last thing he did, and then he’d get as far away from her as possible. Never would she live in fear of him again.

  The barrage of images abruptly stopped and silence blanketed the pathway between Caleb and Ramie’s tormentor. Caleb floated, detached from the immediate surroundings of a maniac. He leaned forward, anticipation making him eager.

  Caleb had managed to push through into the killer’s subconscious. He was in.

  He absorbed the knowledge as if they were actual memories of his and not the killer’s. It was an eerily spooky sensation to be inside the head of another, to see the world as they saw it.

  His head popped back, pain snapping him back to himself. Back to Eliza, Dane and Beau, who all stood staring while Eliza popped him again in the face to get his attention.

  “Snap out of it!” Eliza yelled. “Get your ass back here and tell us where to find Ramie.”

  The edges of his consciousness began to fade and grow dark. He panicked for a moment because back there was where Ramie was and he didn’t want to leave her alone. She had to be terrified, no hope of anyone coming for her after what Caleb had done to her.

  He closed his eyes as grief consumed him once more. He swayed, nearly toppling over as he opened his eyes to see the others all standing around him.

  He stared bleakly up at Eliza, his chest so tight he couldn’t breathe. When he tried to speak, he choked on the words, bile rising up his throat.

  Tears slipped unheeded down his cheeks. Eliza’s gaze was as grief stricken as his own.

  “I hurt her,” Caleb whispered. “I did this to her. How can I ever get past something like this? I don’t deserve to go unpunished. I hurt her. She deserves justice.”

  “She does, indeed,” Eliza said quietly. “And that’s why we’re going to give her justice by going after that son of a bitch and taking him down once and for all.”

  Caleb struggled to his feet and then blurted out where the killer—and Ramie—were located. Eliza gently pushed him down onto one of the sofas. “It’s probably best if you don’t come.”

  Caleb shot to his feet again. “The fuck I’m staying here! Ramie is mine. I love her. And I can’t for one minute let her continue to think that I did this to her! That it was me who handed her over to a psychopath.”

  “I understand,” Eliza said in a placating tone. “But you have to see it from Ramie’s perspective. If we go in and rescue her and she sees you, there’s no telling how she’ll react. She’s already damaged enough. Seeing you right now would likely crush her.”

  “I can’t stay here and do nothing,” Caleb seethed. “Not when she’s out there dying an agonizing death. Because of me,” he said bleakly. “Because of me.”

  His words ended in a whisper and he lifted his haunted gaze to Eliza, Dane and his brother. “I put her where she is right now. It seems all I’m capable of is hurting her. First Tori’s captor and all I forced her to endure so Tori would be saved and now I hand her over, bloodied from wounds I inflicted. How is she ever to believe I love her? Or that I’d never do something so horrific? How can I even believe it myself? Do you know how it feels to watch yourself do the unthinkable to someone you love and be absolutely powerless to stop it?”

  Eliza’s expression softened, and a glint of sympathy flashed in her eyes. Beau’s face was a wreath of torment as he watched his brother completely break down.

  Caleb didn’t bother to wipe the tears away. “I have to go. I can’t stay here. I can’t allow her to think even for a moment that I wouldn’t come for her.”

  Eliza looked clearly torn but Dane shook his head at her. “Think if it were someone you loved, Lizzie. You wouldn’t stay back no matter what.”

  Eliza sighed. “No, you’re right. I wouldn’t.”

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Caleb said in a tortured voice. “You can call the police for backup on the way, but I have to get to her first because they’re going to arrest me on sight. And I’m not waiting on them before we go in and take this guy out. He signed his death warrant when he used me to hurt the woman I love.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  IT took everything in Caleb’s power not to burst through the doors of the ramshackle cabin on an old hunting lease, thirty miles outside the Houston city limits. Only the knowledge that the killer could kill Ramie if he were threatened held him back.

  He and Beau positioned themselves at the back door, making sure to keep out of the line of sight for any of the windows. Dane and Eliza took the front door because Caleb was sure the killer wouldn’t have stood anywhere in the pathway of the front. It was instinctual to fear entrance from there. And he wanted to be the one who came across the bastard first.

  “On my count,” Dane whispered through the phone into Caleb’s ear. “One . . . two . . . three!”

  Caleb crashed through the back door and straight into hell. His gaze found Ramie, who was tied in a grotesque manner to a metal bar suspended from the ceiling. Rope was wrapped tightly around her ankles, blood seeping from the abrasions, and her legs were secured at an odd angle.

  Every time she strained against her bonds, the rope cut deeper into her flesh. Her head sagged weakly, her chin resting on her chest as blood dripped from her nose and mouth.

  Caleb forced his focus away from Ramie and he locked on to her tormentor, who looked shocked to see Caleb standing in the open doorway.

  “Didn’t think I could find you, you arrogant, sick fuck,” Caleb hissed.

  A ghost of a smile glimmered on the man’s face. Then he laughed, the sound sending shivers down Caleb’s spine. It was a laugh that would haunt Caleb the rest of his days. The killer had laughed while Caleb had systemically carved Ramie up.

  Dane burst into the kitchen from the living room, where he’d gained entrance, he and Eliza both holding their
guns up and trained on the killer.

  Dane and Eliza would want to do it by the book. They’d want to take the bastard in, throw him in jail. But Caleb knew that as long as this man lived, Ramie would never find peace. She would be forever bound to him by the psychic link connecting them. And Caleb would never know a night’s sleep. He’d forever live in fear of doing the unthinkable once again.

  Caleb would already be arrested when the police arrived for attempted murder. He may as well go down fighting. He’d gladly sacrifice his life in prison if it meant Ramie would finally be free of a monster’s hold.

  Caleb didn’t waver or hesitate. He raised the gun, ignoring Dane’s and Eliza’s alarmed cries for him to stop. He put a bullet between the killer’s eyes and watched without remorse as the man crumpled and folded.

  Caleb stared for a long moment, tears burning his eyelids. He already mourned what had been lost. Ramie’s trust. Her laughter. Her love. He’d never find those things again.

  He dropped the gun and ran to where Ramie was tied. Her bound wrists were bearing the brunt of her weight. She was literally hanging by them. Her fingers were white and bloodless. He lifted her with one arm, to alleviate the strain. With the other hand, he tore savagely at the ropes and then Beau was there, slicing through the bonds. Ramie dropped into his arms and Beau finished cutting the ropes around her ankles.

  Caleb cradled her body to his chest, rocking back and forth as tears slipped hotly down his cheeks. He pressed his lips to her hair, his arms wrapped around her as though he’d never allow a single hurt to get to her.

  Dane squatted down in front of Caleb, his expression dim. “We’ve got a mess here, Caleb. That video was sent to the police. They’re looking for you even now. There’s three dead bodies at the safe house and now another here.”

  “Tell me you wouldn’t have shot him too,” Caleb ground out. He rocked Ramie harder, holding her head against his chest as he buried his face in her hair. “As long as he lived, Ramie would also be connected to him. I would always worry that he was using me to hurt her. I don’t regret killing him. The only regret I have is that he didn’t suffer more.”

  “He’s speaking the truth,” Eliza said grimly. “The only way to end this was with his death. That’s the only way Ramie or Caleb could ever be free.”

  “I thought you’d done it,” Beau said painfully. “I actually believed my brother had done this.”

  Caleb slowly lifted red-rimmed eyes to Beau. “I did do this,” he whispered.

  Beau shook his head. “No. No! You didn’t. He did. You were merely the instrument of his choosing.”

  Caleb ignored Beau’s outburst and resumed his rhythmic rocking.

  “Caleb, we need to get her to the hospital,” Eliza said gently. “She’s lost a lot of blood and she finally passed out. Don’t have done all this for nothing and let her die anyway.”

  Panicked, Caleb pulled Ramie back, allowing her head to loll and tip backward. He pressed two fingers into her neck, relieved to find a weak pulse.

  Dane rose and reached into his shoulder holster to retrieve one of his pistols. He wiped it completely clean with a handkerchief and then picked up the killer’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the stock. He was certain to put one of the fingers on the trigger so a partial print would be found there. With his hand covering the killer’s but not touching any part of the gun, Dane lowered the hand holding the gun to the floor.

  “Too bad he drew his weapon,” Dane murmured. “Caleb had no choice but to shoot him.” Beau’s mouth quirked, the corners drawing up in amusement.

  “Yeah, that’s a real shame.”

  “Let’s go, Caleb,” Eliza gently urged. “We have a lot of explaining to do before Ramie can come home.”

  Caleb closed his eyes in grief because he knew Ramie would never come home to him. Who could blame her? Obviously somewhere in the deepest recesses of his soul he must be capable of the horrific or his mind wouldn’t have been so easily controlled.

  THIRTY-SEVEN