Page 6 of Lacey's Fight

Another heavy weight he would have to carry around with him.

Familiar panic began to beat a steady drum inside his chest. This was why he didn’t like interacting with women. A few seconds in the woman’s company and she’d already managed to affect him enough that her death would hurt.

The further he got without catching a glimpse of her the more frantic his movements grew. If he wasn’t careful the storm was going to claim him too.

Calm.

Steady.

Control.

He repeated the mantra in his head until he spotted something bobbing in the water.

No, not bobbing. The tiny figure was attempting to fight against the waves slowly pushing her down.

Her head went beneath the water as he increased his speed.

Ben watched with his heart in his throat, only letting out a breath of relief when he saw it pop back up.

He wanted to call out to her, tell her to hold on, but the roaring of the storm meant she likely wouldn’t hear him.

All he could do was pump his arms and legs and try to get to her as quickly as possible.

Down again.

This time when her head went under it didn’t come back up.

Fear coiled through him, almost paralyzing him. Images flew through his mind. The silence, the blood, the horrifying sense of loss.

Everything else faded away, he couldn’t let this woman die.

Couldn’t fail another woman.

When he reached the spot he’d last seen her, Ben dived down, searching the murky, swirling water for any signs of a body. It was dark, and with the storm, he was unlikely to find her, but he couldn’t give up.

Something brushed against him, and he snagged it, knowing it was the woman. She’d been out in the cold water too long, under the water too long, he didn’t hesitate to yank her up against his body and start swimming.

With each stroke, he prayed.

Don’t be dead.

Please. Don’t be dead.

CHAPTER TWO

August 2nd

7:33 P.M.

A muscled arm held her firmly against a granite-chiseled chest.

If there was one thing Lacey knew it was men’s bodies, and this one was exquisite perfection.

Sex was her coping mechanism. A way to pretend she had control over herself, her body, and her life, even though more often than not she felt the opposite.

Her innocence had been stolen when she was only ten years old by The Master, the monster who had abducted her and three other infant girls, raising them to be his own personal little army. For what reason she had no idea. The man had a knack for slipping through their fingers any time they got close so she might never know why she had been taken.

The whys didn’t really matter. All that did was that something inside her had been broken.

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