In His Keeping, Page 23

  could still see her face, even though she’d turned away from him and Ginger. Her eyes briefly closed as though she were battling . . . agony? Fear? Awareness? Or perhaps she merely wanted to escape her present reality. Maybe she was in so much pain that she simply wanted to slip away to someplace where it wasn’t so sharp and unbearable. Gavin hastily wiped the corner of one eye and blinked rapidly to maintain his tenuous grip on his composure.

  “Ari?” Ginger started to touch her again but stilled her hand and let it drop away, anguish flashing in her eyes.

  “Don’t,” Ari begged. “Oh God, please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” Gavin asked urgently. “Ari, can you talk to us? Can you tell us what happened? What did those bastards do to you?”

  He choked off, unable to go on any further. Tears clogged his throat, rendering him temporarily incapable of speech. Ginger thrust her fingers through his, curling them around his hand, holding tightly, so much tension radiating through her body.

  “Don’t touch,” Ari said, another moan escaping, her words so low, Gavin could barely make them out. “No noise. Please. I can’t bear it. Hurts. Hurts so much. Please, just don’t touch me. Don’t say anything.”

  Ginger’s hand flew to her mouth and tears slipped from her eyes, more appearing as soon as the others slithered down her cheeks.

  Ari reached up to cover her ears and then began slowly rocking herself back and forth, locked in her own private hell that Gavin and Ginger were helpless to soothe, calm or take away.

  Ginger stood, honoring her daughter’s broken request, her eyes grief-stricken in a manner Gavin hadn’t seen in nearly twenty-five years. Not since the last child they’d lost had she looked so heartbroken.

  Gavin jerkily rose, his fury mounting with every passing moment. Rage smoldered through his veins like a potent drug, his vision growing dim and hazy. He turned his back to both his wife and daughter, not wanting either of them to see the terrible thoughts reflected in his eyes. The thirst for vengeance. For violence. To destroy every last person involved in this whole sordid mess.

  He let out a rumbling sound of pure male fury, one he instantly tried to quell when he saw Ari stiffen.

  “The light,” Ginger said suddenly. “The light probably hurts her too.”

  Ginger hurried toward where the single bulb hung from an electrical wire and fiddled with it a moment, loosening it just enough so that it flickered off.

  Gavin turned, closing his eyes as grief and helplessness washed over him like a tidal wave. He hit the iron bars caging him, needing an outlet for his savage rage. Pain didn’t even register as he rammed his fist over and over into the groaning metal. The acrid smell of blood arose and it slid warmly over his fingers, dripping onto the floor below him.

  Ginger threw her arms around his side and then slid around him until she separated him from the bars he’d been pummeling. Reverently she took his now-swollen hand in hers and pressed a kiss to the torn knuckles.

  Then she buried her face in his chest so her sobs were stifled. Her entire body shook, and Gavin wrapped his arms around her in response, anchoring her. Then he buried his face in his wife’s hair, his own tears dampening the silken strands, as his heart, like his wife’s, simply broke in two.

  They held on to one another for a long moment before Ginger’s muffled voice rose. “What did they do to our baby, Gavin? What do they want?”

  Gavin ran his hands up and down the length of her spine, trying to offer her comfort when there was none to be had. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “Damn it, I don’t know!”

  “How can we protect her when we’re helpless?” Ginger asked, her distress becoming more pronounced.

  “We aren’t helpless.”

  Gavin and Ginger both whipped around in shock as Ari’s dull, toneless voice reached them. She sounded almost . . . robotic.

  “What, baby?” Gavin asked softly, though he’d heard her clearly. He just wasn’t sure what she had meant.

  “I’ll bring down the entire house,” she said softly, turning over so she faced her parents willingly for the first time.

  Power snapped and sparkled around them, electrifying the very air in the damp cell. Where before the air had always been stuffy, hard to breathe, now it seemed charged, particles shimmering, a breeze suddenly shifting, restless, blowing a chill through as if a window had been opened to allow fresh air in.

  The bars began to rattle ominously. The cot shook beneath Ari. The concrete floor trembled beneath their feet. Outside the cell, in neighboring ones, pillows, blankets, even an old, discarded shoe rose into the air, spinning rapidly before slamming against the iron bars caging the small interiors.

  Ginger glanced at Gavin, worry and unease dark in her eyes. He knew his expression wasn’t likely any different. Something was very wrong here. In the distance, the sound of breaking glass could be heard, the shattering of a window. The wind whistled down the hallway, howling ominously, like a wind tunnel.

  “Gavin!” Ginger whispered, her horrified gaze locked on Ari.

  Gavin pulled his gaze from the objects whirling freely through the air and focused on his daughter and immediately saw what concerned Ginger. Blood was seeping from Ari’s nose, dripping onto the worn sheet of the cot.

  “Ari, baby,” Ginger said in an aching voice. She hurried over to her daughter and carefully slid onto the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. “Is that where all the blood came from? Did they make you use your powers?”

  But Ari’s eyes were distant. Vacant, as though she were miles away. Here, but not here.

  “I’ll kill them all,” Ari said, her eyes coming to life, glowing eerily where before they’d been utterly lifeless. Then she leveled a stare at her parents, for the first time seemingly aware of her surroundings. “And Beau will come,” she said simply.

  THIRTY-TWO

  AFTER Ari’s cryptic statement, she’d immediately drifted into sleep, her features contorted at first and then finally easing as she slid deeper into rest. Ginger lay beside Ari while Gavin paced the confines of the cell restlessly, like a caged lion.

  He wanted to know what the hell had been done to Ari, but she’d been unable to provide answers, and he wasn’t about to push her when she was seemingly so fragile. But then she’d made that chilling vow that he was still turning over in his mind.

  She’d sounded, not only determined, but resolved. Confident. Fearless. And that scared him to death. What the hell was she planning to do? And how could he stand by and do nothing? How could he stop her from whatever it was that put that implacable expression on her face? One that told him she would not be swayed from her objective.

  He closed his eyes, whispering a prayer to an entity he’d never believed in before Ginger and Ari had entered his life. He truly believed they were a gift from the angels. God. A higher being. It didn’t matter what He was called. Gavin believed—truly believed—when he’d never believed in anything but what he himself had the power to accomplish in his life.

  Now he prayed a sincere, fervent prayer for God to watch over and protect his wife and daughter. What happened to him was inconsequential. He’d give his life for the two women he loved so dearly and never hesitate. But he wasn’t willing to allow either of them to do the same for him.

  He shook his head at the ridiculous turn of his thoughts. Ari had been insensible. Catatonic. Deeply traumatized. He doubted she’d even remember her words when she next awoke. Even as he prayed she’d awaken soon so he could have the answers he so desperately wanted.

  Though Ginger was lying on the cot with Ari, she wasn’t asleep. She was as wide-awake as Gavin. Ari had sensed her mother’s presence even at rest and had snuggled closer to her as she’d settled more firmly into the grasp of sleep. Healing sleep, Gavin hoped.

  Ginger ran her fingers through Ari’s long hair, something Ari had always enjoyed from an early age. She loved having her hair played with, her head rubbed. It had often comforted her when she’d wake crying in the
night. Or when she wasn’t feeling well.

  “Mama?”

  Ari’s soft voice reached Gavin’s ears and he whipped around, his gaze immediately seeking his daughter. Her back was still to him. Ginger had crawled between Ari and the wall of the cell so she could lie down with her daughter without disturbing her rest.

  “Yes, darling,” Ginger said quietly, in deference to Ari’s earlier sound sensitivity.

  “Where’s Dad?” Ari whispered back. “Is he here?”

  Gavin started to respond, and he was just about to rush over so he could see her for himself and vice versa, but Ari’s next words stopped him cold.

  “They have monitors in here. They can’t see that I’m awake so don’t give it away that I am,” Ari said in the same whisper. “Look at Dad, so I know where he is, but don’t do or say anything to suggest I’m awake.”

  Gavin controlled his frown. Barely. To Ginger’s credit, her expression remained worried and thoughtful just as it had in the last two hours Ari had slept. No betraying emotion or flicker of worry, excitement or anticipation reflected in her carefully controlled features.

  Ginger glanced up at Gavin and held his gaze long enough for Ari to ascertain his whereabouts.

  “Tell him not to move or rather continue doing whatever he was doing,” Ari continued to whisper so Gavin had to strain to hear. “Well, don’t say that,” she hastily amended. “They can hear you.”

  “He can hear you, darling,” Ginger said without even moving her lips as she continued stroking Ari’s hair and holding Gavin’s gaze, just as she’d done the entire time Ari had slept.

  Gavin saw Ari visibly relax. He hadn’t realized just how much tension was contained in her small frame until he saw her sink further into the bed.

  “There are things you need to prepare yourselves for,” Ari continued.

  Gavin walked over to the bed, just as he’d done several times over the past hours and peered down at her as if checking on her. Her words worried him and he needed reassurance. Just to look at her, touch her so he knew she was okay.

  “Has she awakened at all?”

  He directed the question to Ginger and reached down to lightly stroke Ari’s cheek with his finger, another thing he’d done many times in his worry since she’d fallen into sleep.

  Tears glittered on Ari’s eyelashes, and Gavin’s chest tightened in emotion. Damn it! There was so much he wanted to ask. So much he needed to know and his hands were tied. He simmered with impatience, but forced himself to remain in character, not deviating from the pattern he’d established as he and Ginger had watched over their sleeping daughter.

  “Not yet,” Ginger said in a louder tone. “I’m worried, Gavin. What if they did something terrible to her?”

  His clever, clever girl. Finding a way to ask Ari the questions he was dying to ask without anyone being able to pick up on what they were doing.

  “I had to let them,” Ari said, not moving or reacting to her father’s touch, though the tears he’d seen just seconds earlier told him a wealth of information. “It’s complicated.”

  Ari took in a steadying breath, careful not to allow her body language to signal she was anything but deeply asleep. Everything hinged on their captors not picking up on her deception. The havoc she intended to wreak, the vengeance she planned to bring down on them like the wrath of God, had to be unexpected.

  Her parents wouldn’t like what she had to say. Her father especially wouldn’t at all like that he would have to take no active part in her plan. That only Ari would face down their enemies. Alone.

  “They want to use my powers. And they’re strong. My powers, I mean. So much more than we ever dreamed. In just a short time, I’ve managed feats I would have never believed myself capable of and yet I know I can do so much more.”

  “Do you think she was experimented on?” her mother asked her husband, still playing her role to perfection. “Is that where the blood came from?”

  “I don’t know,” Gavin murmured, injecting fatherly outrage and anger into his voice.

  “Yes,” Ari whispered, slowly reaching for her mother’s hand. The one lying in the space between them. With her father standing behind her and her mother so close to her on the narrow cot, there was no way for the camera to pick up on the subtle movement.

  She squeezed her mother’s hand, tears pricking her eyelids. These were her parents. Biological or not. These were the people who loved her, protected her, stood by her always.

  “But I allowed them to,” Ari continued. “What I have to say, what you must hear from me will be very hard for you to hear. And even harder to accept. But I’m asking you to trust me. If you’ve ever loved me, as I know you do. If you’ve ever had faith in me, as you always have. Then trust me now and listen to what I must tell you.” Ari sucked in a shallow breath so her body wouldn’t betray a larger motion. “And accept what I must do.”

  Worry flickered in her father’s eyes, raw emotion etched in his features. His back was to the cameras and he stood there a long moment before visibly composing himself and then straightening as if he’d simply shared a private, intimate moment with his wife and shared his worry for their daughter with her for the briefest of moments.

  “I allowed them to overload me,” Ari said. “So much has happened since you went missing. So much I’ve learned about myself. My powers. Still so much untapped. Undiscovered. And yet I know there is so much I can do. More than I ever would have thought possible.”

  Though her mother didn’t voice her question aloud, Ari could see it clearly in her eyes.

  “I went through a series of tests that were in fact very easy,” she explained. “But I purposely thought of things that would put unbearable strain on me so they would see me in psychic overload. So they would see me experiencing a psychic bleed. I needed them to be disgusted or perhaps disappointed or even believe I was worthless to them. At least until I could find you and Dad. Because when they come for me again—and they will—you have to be ready. And you must do exactly as I tell you. It’s the only way I can keep you both safe when I bring the rest of this place down and reduce it to rubble, taking every sadistic son of a bitch with it.”

  Shock registered in her mother’s eyes, and she quickly dropped her gaze to hide her response. Though Ari could no longer see her father, she could feel him close, could feel the instant coil and snap of tension within him. It went against his every instinct to willingly allow his daughter to go into a dangerous situation while he hung back waiting to be “saved.”

  He would be the one hardest to convince and this is where she had to win her mother over so she could rein him in.

  She sent her mother a pleading look, begging her to understand. Begging her to trust Ari. To have faith in Ari’s abilities.

  Her mother’s hand tightened around Ari’s, squeezing just a little.

  “Go on,” her mom said without moving her lips.

  “I am very powerful,” Ari said honestly. “These men are no match for me and I need you to trust in that. To know I’ll be safe and to understand that the way I came to you was my choice. I had to know where you were. That you were still alive. Because when the time comes, I’ll be able to provide a protective barrier around you, but you must stay. No matter what you see, what you hear, what you think. You have to stay here while the house is destroyed around you.”

  She could hear her father’s sudden expulsion of breath and then the acceleration of his respirations. Again, she glanced pleadingly up at her mother, asking for her help in convincing her dad.

  Once more her mother squeezed her hand, this time with no hesitation. And what Ari saw reflected in her mom’s eyes staggered her. Love—of course. But also trust. And . . . pride. It shone like a beacon in her mother’s eyes. It lit her face, etched into every facet of her expression.

  Ari blinked back tears, squeezing her mother’s hand and holding on. Simply holding on to that tangible link between mother and daughter. A bond like no other. Irreplaceable. Unwavering.
Old as time itself. There truly was nothing like the love of a mother. Unconditional. Solid. Indefinable and limitless. Capable of surviving anything. Able to triumph over the impossible.

  And Ari would triumph. She believed in herself, just as her mother believed in her. She wasn’t a freak of nature. Some accident of birth to be studied, examined or controlled. She did have a purpose. She was special.

  It had taken her twenty-four years to understand her purpose. To accept it and embrace it. Not to shy away from it, duck it, or suppress or ignore it. Never again. It was an integral part of who and what she was.

  And now it would save the people she loved and the people who loved her more than anything in the world.

  Blood didn’t make a family.

  Love did.

  “Dad,” she called softly, not loud enough to be heard but enough that her mother would somehow let him know to get within hearing range.

  “Gavin, come here, please,” Ginger said in concern. “Did you see she bled from her ears? Why on earth would something like this happen?”

  Ari wanted to smile. And then she felt the warmth seep into her chilled body as both mother and father flanked her once more.

  “Dad,” she whispered again.

  “I’m here,” he murmured.

  “You have to protect Mom.”

  It was a manipulative, dirty trick, but she knew by appealing to the protector in her father that while he might be forced to stand down and not take an active role in his daughter’s protection, he certainly wouldn’t do anything that would bring her mother harm.

  Her mom’s lips twitched suspiciously as though she knew exactly what Ari was doing. But then her mom had given her useful information over the years on how to handle a male. Particularly his ego.

  “You have to make sure she doesn’t move once I leave,” Ari continued, driving her point home to her father. “If she were to move even a little, if a gap formed between the two of you, then she could very well end up outside the barrier and she could be killed.”

  Though she was certainly trying to do anything she could to convince her father of the necessity of his remaining behind, she was not lying about his need to protect her mother.

  Her mother was fierce when it came to the defense of her only child, and God help them all if she thought Ari was in need or danger, or worse . . . hurt and defenseless.

  She felt rather than heard the soft expulsion of his breath in a resigned sigh.

  “It was never an issue of me not trusting you,” her father said gruffly, emotion thick in his voice.

  And there was something else in his tone. Something that warmed her to the bone, warding off the aching chill that seemed a permanent part of her now.

  Pride.

  She could hear how proud of her he was just by those few words he spoke. It was often the way he spoke of her mother, talked to others about her mother, though God knew, they didn’t exactly cultivate any social acquaintances.

  “No matter what happens, know I love you both. There is no one in the world I’d rather have as my parents—my family.”

  She swallowed back further words before she exposed what she knew to be true.

  They shared something far more precious than blood. Something she’d never take for granted again.

  They shared love. And family. More than anything she wanted Beau to become a part of her family. Her dad would hate him on sight—of course. He wouldn’t be doing his fatherly duty if he didn’t scowl, threaten and try to intimidate the man he’d swear wasn’t good enough for her.

  “And there is no one other than you we’d love more as our child,” her mother said fiercely.

  Once more, her father leaned down to brush his lips over Ari’s cheek. And then he whispered as he pulled away.

  “We are not going to say our goodbyes and our I love yous like one or all of us is going to die,” he reprimanded. “By all that’s holy, Ari, if you don’t get your ass back to this cell and let me and your mother out so we can escape this place together I’ll follow you to heaven and fight God himself for you. He’ll get his time later. But for my lifetime, you belong to me.”

  Ari closed her eyes, peace settling over her like the warmest, most soothing blanket.

  “When they come for me, be ready,” she whispered, her heart thumping, not in fear, but in anticipation of what was to come. “When they take me, you must stand together and remain in the exact spot you are when I last see you. It’s the only way I can save you. Trust me. Have faith in me. I won’t let you down.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  THEY came sooner than Ari expected, but she was glad for it. She’d rested against her mother, surrounded by her warmth and love, and then she’d roused from sleep, but she had remained stoic and silent, not wanting to give anything away to the silent observers she knew were there.

  The only concession she’d made was to tell her parents she was fine. Just a little tired. But that was for the benefit of her observers. Because she was ready.

  Not even a half an hour later, they came for her.

  The same two guards came striding down the hall, stopping at the cell door, both holding guns again, but these were real. Or at least they looked real to her. Holding real bullets capable of killing in a matter of seconds. She knew it was a silent message to her not to resist. A not so silent message to her father when one of the guards simply held a gun to her mother’s head and coldly told her father that unless he wanted his wife’s gray matter splattered all over the walls he’d stand down and not make any trouble.