Taxi (Take It Off #11) Read online

  Once I was sure they were gone, I whimpered and slid down the pipe until my butt hit the floor. My body shook so uncontrollably my teeth began to chatter. It hurt… It hurt to shake, to move, to breathe.

  Most of all, it hurt to think.

  Chains rattled and dragged when the new man turned to face me. “Are you okay?”

  I started to laugh—an unbalanced and scary sound.

  Am I okay?

  I was about as okay as a bad case of Ebola.

  A low curse filled the space, and he came closer and crouched in front of me. I tensed up and scrambled back.

  “Okay, hey,” he said quiet and gentle. Like he was trying to coax a kitten away from its mother. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

  I sure liked his voice… It was familiar. Despite my chattering teeth and trembling body, I glanced up.

  Dark, kind eyes met mine. Olive-toned skin, a strong nose, and a jaw full of dark scruff filled my vision. His coffee-colored hair was mussed and kinda long on top so it fell down over his forehead and into his eyes.

  Oh. My. God.

  I knew him.

  8

  Derek

  Recognition was instantaneous.

  The second her pale eyes lifted to mine, I knew her.

  “Rose?” I said quietly, a shocked note in my question.

  Her lower lip trembled. “You recognize me?”

  I’d recognize you anywhere.

  “Are you kidding? I’d know my coffee fairy anywhere,” I said with a teasing, light tone.

  Her trembling lips paused long enough to pull up in a semi smile. I’d take it. I’d worked with worse.

  “You recognize me?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  I made a relieved sound and pressed a hand to my chest. “Good thing. For a second there, I was thinking I wasn’t as good at flirting as I thought.”

  She gave me another half attempt at a smile but then shivered.

  I moved toward her and reached out my hand, causing her to tense and pull back. I reminded myself to move slow, that she was terrified.

  It was hard. Hard not to grab her up and survey the damage I could had been done. My stomach clenched when I thought about the piercing sound of her scream that brought me out of whatever the hell was in the dart that made me pass out.

  I’d ripped the rag off my head and glanced around to see some man trying to rape a woman… just feet from where I lay.

  My surroundings didn’t register; I didn’t really even think. One second, I was lying there groggy, and the next, I was burying my fist into some guy’s face. I would have killed him. I wanted to. Hell, I would have taken a bullet just to wrap the chain around his neck and squeeze until he life faded from his eyes.

  What I didn’t want was a poor defenseless woman being shot and killed because of something I’d done.

  That was before I’d realized it was Rose. Now that I did…

  The urge to kill that asshole was even stronger. But it was the right decision. Clearly, she was already traumatized enough without me killing some guy and then getting us both shot for it.

  Still, I really hoped not killing him wasn’t something that came back to bite me in the ass.

  “How badly are you hurt?” I asked, dropping my hands. A chain rattled, and I looked down.

  I was chained up, something I hadn’t fully processed until just this minute. A quick glance at her and I noted she was, too.

  “I… I’m not sure.” Her voice shook.

  “Your hands are bleeding,” I said gently. “Can I look at them?”

  I reached for one, focused on the red smears of fresh blood marring her pale skin. Just before I could grasp it, she pulled it up and into her chest. That’s when I noticed she was clutching something I knew she would die for before giving it up.

  I glanced at it, not trying to reach out again. It was some kind of piece of metal or something… “You find a weapon?”

  She nodded.

  “Good thinking.” Between us, I stretched out my hand, palm up. “You hold on to that. We might need it. Will you show me your hand?”

  She swallowed, a process I noted seemed difficult and painful. Her lips were dry and cracked. Her face had clearly been hit recently.

  How long had she been here like this?

  I tried to remember the last time I saw her. My days often ran together, so it was hard to say. Two days? Three?

  Even though I was distracted by my own thoughts, I stayed in tune with her. A few moments after I made no move to take her weapon, or grab her in any way, she decided to let me see her hand once the weapon was transferred into the opposite fist.

  A rush of tenderness filled me. She was obviously terrified, beaten and in pain. Someone just literally tried to rape her and then pointed a gun at her chest.

  Still…

  She was trusting me.

  Even if only a little. The small gesture of allowing me to look at her wounds seemed not so small. It seemed monumental as we sat crouched on the cold floor in the impeding darkness.

  I wanted so badly in that moment to take even just a fraction of her fear. A tablespoon of her pain. Anything at all that would give her just the slightest amount of comfort.

  The hand I still held out between us moved slowly, cautiously toward hers. I cupped her hand in mine and pulled it closer to me, keeping my fingers gentle and my facial expression neutral.

  I was used to blood. I was used to wounds, cuts, stitches. I was used to far worse things than the broken and torn skin on her fingers.

  None of those far worse things affected me the way these superficial wounds did right now.

  The pad of my thumb grazed over them. I stared down intently. “Did they give you any water?” I asked, thinking these definitely needed to be cleaned and wrapped. They would be more painful if they got infected or continued to rip.

  When she didn’t answer, I glanced up. Her eyes were overfull with fresh tears.

  “It’s okay.” I soothed. “We don’t need water.”

  Improvising, my hand delved beneath the unzipped the hoodie I was wearing over an old t-shirt and ripped off a strip from the hem.

  “Dr. Kelley!” Rose gasped, hoarse. “What are you doing?”

  I glanced up, the fabric forgotten in my hand. One of my eyebrows lifted. “Dr. Kelley?”

  She blushed.

  I fucking loved when the skin beneath the splattering of freckles on her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. Seeing her blush was honestly one of the highlights of my day. I’d been telling her since I first stepped up to her coffee truck not to call me that. She wasn’t my patient. I wasn’t her doctor.

  Well, I guess maybe right now I was. No. This didn’t count.

  She always said it was more professional to call me that. We were at my workplace after all.

  I didn’t consider her coffee truck outside the hospital my workplace, but I kinda liked arguing with her about it on almost a daily basis.

  “Derek.” She conceded softly.

  I liked the way my name sounded when she said it. Almost like I was a secret she’d been keeping for a long time. “Ah, I was beginning to think you didn’t even know my first name.”

  A ghost of a smile appeared on her exhausted face. “Oh, I remember.”

  “Rose…” I gasped playfully and glanced back down at her hand and what I was doing. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered. Her hand, which was back to being cradled in my palm, flexed a little.

  So much for trying to distract her.

  Using my teeth, I ripped the torn piece of my shirt in half. I was pretty fucking shocked I was here, too. Being kidnapped in the driveway of my own damn house wasn’t on my bucket list. Hell, it wasn’t even on my radar.

  Maybe if I were a more suspicious bastard, this wouldn’t have happened.

  But if I was, she’d still be here alone. If there was ever a reason to be shot with some kind of tranquilizer dart
and shoved into the back of a phony taxicab and carted off to Bumfuck Egypt, that was pretty much it.

  Never in a million years would I have fathomed this. One thing was for sure. I’d never look at another cab the same way again.

  “How long have you been here, Rose?” I asked softly. Honestly, I hadn’t wanted to get into it all right away. So many questions chewed at me. I was confused, slightly groggy from that shit I was shot with, pissed off… and maybe a little alarmed at the situation. Fine, I wasn’t a little alarmed. I was kinda flipping the fuck out inside. I had no clue where I was or what the hell was going on.

  The shadows in her eyes trumped it all.

  The second I saw her, recognized her, and noted the blood and ragged appearance, there was nothing I wanted more than to make sure she was okay. Once I knew that, everything else would come.

  Besides, I had a feeling I had some time to ask questions.

  I don’t have time.

  Rocco needs me.

  A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed it down. I needed to stay calm and cool. I would figure a way out of this in time. I would.

  Anything less is unacceptable.

  “What day is it?” she asked.

  “Sunday,” I replied. “Might be Monday by now. Not sure how long it took to get here.”

  “They had a bag over your head.” Her voice wobbled.

  “At least that way I didn’t have to make conversation.” I tried to joke.

  Neither of us laughed.

  I took a torn piece of fabric and dabbed at the open wounds on her fingers. She stiffened but said nothing. I worked as carefully and quickly as I could. The light in here sucked. If it weren’t for some kind of lamp or something way up front, it would be completely dark.

  “Were you trying to get free?” I asked as I worked.

  “I wasn’t able to.”

  “At least you tried.”

  “I’ve been here a little over twenty-four hours,” Rose said, her voice void.

  I paused in my ministrations. Twenty-four hours wasn’t a huge amount of time, but I bet to her, it felt like a lifetime. An ache formed in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t bother trying to push it away. I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.

  Twenty-four hours of sitting here, chained up like a dog. No food. No water. No help. They clearly abused her… I cleared my throat and tied the cloth around the cleaned-up hand.

  “Next hand,” I instructed. I was angry, so angry someone would do this to her. To me.

  Why?

  After laying the metal piece in her lap, she held out her other hand.

  “Is that from the bucket behind you?” I asked as I began to clean her wounds.

  “Yes,” she said. “I pried it off.”

  That explained some of the damage to her hands. I’d bet almost anything the rest of the damage was from trying to get the chain off.

  “Smart,” I said, not looking at her. I was afraid if I did, she’d see the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

  “It was the best I could do. There is literally nothing else within reach. They even took the bag over your head,” she said, forlorn. The fact she noticed the bag was gone said a lot about her. She was alert, committed to saving her life and paying attention to every detail she could.

  I finished wiping away as much blood as I could and tied the fabric around her hand. “Definitely not surgeon quality, but it should help,” I said, laying my other hand over hers so it was sandwiched between mine.

  Her fingers felt like ice.

  “You cold?” I asked, noting the skirt and thin-looking shirt she wore. Her knee was skinned, and her hair looked damp.

  She shrugged. “I won’t freeze. It’s summer.”

  True, she wouldn’t freeze. But being cold was hard on the body. Her body was fighting so much right now it seemed like a terrible waste to make it also fight to try and keep her warm. Not to mention, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was in shock.

  “Here,” I said, stripping off the zippered hoodie I was wearing. It was navy blue and worn so it was extra soft.

  “Oh, no.” She protested, drawing back. “Keep it on. You’ll need it.”

  “I have on more clothes than you.” I pointed out and slowly stretched forward to wrap it around her back.

  The second the fabric folded around her shoulders, her body seemed to melt toward the shirt and an involuntary shudder shook her shoulders.

  My palms settled on her, steadying her. “Feels good, huh?”

  She glanced up, sheepish. “It’s still warm from your body.”

  “Soak it up,” I instructed and went back to tucking it around her.

  Giving in, Rose pushed her arms through the sleeves but stopped partway through the action and let out a cry. “What?” I asked gently, my arms automatically lifted, hands hovering around her so I could fix whatever was bothering her.

  “The stupid chain.” She shook her arm, and the chain rattled.

  Ah. She couldn’t put her arm through the sleeve without pulling the chain with it. More fury erupted. I could even make her comfortable because of a stupid fucking chain.

  I shut down the anger, for now anyway. “We’ll just tuck this side around you,” I offered, pulling the front together and zipping it up around her. The arm with the chain was folded against her middle. The silver links fell out from beneath it and draped over her waist. Before pulling back completely, I reached around for the hood, which was partially folded in on itself, and adjusted the fabric, pulling it close around the back of her neck, giving her a little extra warmth.

  “Thank you, Derek,” she whispered.

  My stomach clenched. I moved from the fabric to her face, gently cupping her jaw. “We’re going to get out of here, Rose.”

  Our faces were so close our noses almost touched. Her eyes were filled with doubt and exhaustion, never a good combination.

  “Do you know what they want?” she asked, a spark of hope in her voice.

  Goddamn, I wish I knew. I wish I had an answer for every question she could ever think of. But I had no idea. “It doesn’t matter,” I told her, confidence in my tone. “We aren’t staying.”

  “I’m really scared.” Her voice broke.

  My thumb caressed her jaw. “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.”

  A tear fell down her cheek. The weight of it dragged the drop of liquid all the way down to my fingers. I brushed it away and pulled back.

  When I stood, the chain hung down from my wrist, making a trail to the concrete floor. Rose gripped the bucket handle and looked up at me warily. All traces of the fear and vulnerability she showed just seconds ago were gone.

  That look gave me a good glimpse at how she’d gotten this far. She was tough and determined to save herself. I admired that so goddamned much.

  “I’m gonna touch you again. Maybe don’t stab me with your shank.” I added a little wink with the last part.

  Before she could say or do anything, I reached down and slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her back. I lifted her, thinking about how light she seemed and how much I hated that.

  I wished she were bigger. Seemed a bigger body would offer more protection.

  “What are you doing?” She worried.

  “Relax,” I whispered, tucking her against my chest and sitting down. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

  She made a sound. “Well, I have it on good authority this floor is not comfortable.”

  I fought a smile. “Good thing you aren’t sitting on the floor, then.”

  I leaned back against the pipe we were chained to and shifted Rose in my lap. Her eyes widened as if she just realized where she was.

  “I can’t sit on your lap.” She protested and tried to scramble away.

  I didn’t restrain her. I was afraid, after what she’d been through, she’d panic.

  “Best seat in the house,” I drawled, catching her hand and motioning for her to come back.

  “This is not a house. It’s a cage.” H
er voice was flat.

  “Have you had any sleep since you got here?” I asked gently.

  “A little.” She hedged. “I was out for a long time when they brought me here.”

  “They shoot you with a tranq, too?” I asked.

  “A tranq?”

  I nodded. “A dart with stuff in it that puts you to sleep.”

  “They did that to you?” Her eyes widened a little and some anger crept in.

  I liked that look a lot better than the void one she sometimes wore.

  I nodded.

  She slumped, drained.

  “Come here.” I cajoled. “I got some extra body heat for ya.”

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she thought about it. I opened my arms and legs, making a space for her against my chest.

  Rose crawled over, fit herself between my legs, and leaned her side and cheek all along my front. After adjusting the hoodie around her again, I used both arms to fold her close.

  I felt her slow exhale.

  She rubbed her cheek against the soft T-shirt I was wearing as if she were trying to burrow closer. “You smell good,” she whispered.

  “I’d just come from the gym. I probably stink.”

  “I was out with some friends, at that popular pub in downtown Raleigh.” She began. I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “It was late, and I was drunk.”

  Already, I hated this story. Probably because I knew it ended with her here.

  “I couldn’t get a cab to stop. They never stop for me. So I started walking home. I didn’t want to wait for everyone else because I had to get up to early…” Her voice trailed away. “I should have just waited.”

  My arms tightened around her. I tucked her a little bit closer and rested my chin on the top of her head.

  “He pulled to the curb in a cab, the same kind I ride in all the time. I thought it was safer than walking, so I got in.”

  “I thought it was a real cab, too,” I confided, hoping that made her feel better.

  “You were in it?” she questioned.

  “Yeah, he pulled into my driveway to ask for directions.”

  Against me, she nodded. “I gave him my address, but he didn’t drive me home. Instead, he…” I felt her begin to tremble. “He put on what I now know was a gas mask and filled the backseat with some kind of gas that knocked me out.”