Page 24 of Unchained

Her muscles contracted. Unease made her want to stand and pace the room. Blunt fear made the blood drain from her head, leaving a chill on her skin in its wake. Was Brooks involved in the trafficking? What role had he played? Dear god, she better not have just released a twisted rapist.

* * *

Brooks stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Steam clouded the mirror and hung in the air as if he’d just let off a smoke bomb. Damn it felt good. He’d had only one shower that he remembered in Leonetti’s care—and it had been fast and cold. A reward for his first success: his body not rejecting the drug. Scalding-hot water running over his body and motel shampoo in his hair was the most luxurious thing he’d engaged in in a long time. Almost normal. But he was far from that.

Knock, knock, knock

Sharp raps on the door made him still. He pressed the towel to his junk then opened the door and stared at Cam’s flaming green eyes.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, her phone turned toward him.

He drew his head back. The deep, throbbing headache hadn’t left. Rather, it had become somewhat manageable. Shrieking was one thing he couldn’t deal with. “Can you not yell?” He rubbed his temple. “What are you talking about?”

A flash of concern blipped across her face before disappearing. “This,” she said more softly, hoisting the screen to his eye level.

Her gaze drifted down his body and stopped at the towel that he hadn’t bothered to wrap around his waist, and just covered his cock. A deep red blush covered her cheeks. She turned her head to stare at the wall. He chuckled and swaddled his hips with the towel. “You act like you’ve never seen a naked dude before.”

Her only reaction was a slight scrunch of her nose before she slid her gaze back to his body—her eyes moved their way up from below his navel to his face. She chewed the corner of her lip. He accepted the phone, but instead of giving it his attention just yet, he caught her chin. “Don’t do that. You’re going to make your lip bleed.”

She stopped chewing and drew her chin away. Her eyes were wide, hesitant. Like she feared him or some shit, yet she’d let him cuddle her all morning. He tapped the screen that had gone to sleep. Conrad Hornick’s name filled the search engine. Below it were half a dozen links he didn’t dare open—doing so would only make his blood boil.

Very few details about Conrad came forward in his mind. But without a doubt, he was the man responsible for his imprisonment. He was also a snake, a creep who’d done a lot of illegal shit that Brooks needed to pull from his memory, but only when he was safe—and ready to kill. Questions singed his tongue. “You know him?”

“No,” she said, almost wailing. “God no. Did you read the headlines? He’s a pervert. He’s sold children through his group home into a sex trafficking—”

He held up his hand then breezed out of the bathroom before the steam ate his flesh. “And you’re demanding what of me, exactly?”

“You said his name in your sleep.”

He snapped his head toward her. Damn, he needed pants and a shirt. The last thing he wanted to do was put on the nasty hospital pants he’d worn for at least two fucking weeks. If it weren’t for the flaming blonde vibrating on the spot, he’d take off the towel and get comfortable. Her words hung on a hint of hesitancy. No wonder she’d reacted the way she had. The fact that he knew a guy like Conrad probably didn’t make him very appealing.

“Look, I don’t remember a lot, okay? Almost everything that happened before Conrad took me is blank. Sometimes images and names float through my head, but they don’t mean anything. Not yet.”

She moved closer, her energy toned down. “Do you know who you are?”

“Yeah,” he said, not avoiding the punch of impatience. “I don’t have amnesia. I just—I think it’s blocked. The drug did that. But I made sure to remember him. That’s why I say his name before I fall asleep—so I’ll never forget what he did to me.”

Her pink tongue moved over her teeth, pulling at the need pulsing inside his body. It’d been too long since he felt the heat of a woman, since he’d sunk inside wet pussy. He needed it more than he’d needed the drug last night.

“Why did he do it?”

He grunted with frustration and drove his fingers through his hair, which he’d washed three times to get the grease out. “I don’t know. I feel like”—he took a deep breath and sat on the bed—“like he wanted to silence me. I dunno. That’s just what my instinct is telling me. I knew about something and he needed to get rid of me.”

“By doing what?”

He looked up at her. Her hands were knotted at her waist, and her face was white. Concern emanated from her pores.

“He kept me as a slave.”

She dropped her hands. Her eyebrows soared toward her hairline. “A—what?”

“A slave. He tortured me when he wasn’t using me for manual labor at an acreage he owned. I remember trying to escape and getting beaten within an inch of my life. Then, Dr. Leonetti showed up. And that sick game began.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your chart said you were at the lab for a month. So you were with Conrad for how long?”

He shrugged. “Seven months or so. Things are glitchy before the drug.”

She nodded slowly then lifted her hand toward him. She toyed with his hair before lightly scratching her nails over his scalp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse you.”

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