“Mother fucker, he got in. Go look on the bed and tell me what the fuck you see, Sam?”
Sam moved cautiously into the room, followed by Tara. There was complete silence for long, long seconds. No one moved in the hall. No one spoke. Finally, they stepped back, their faces were pale and Tara was on the verge of shaking.
“Tara?” Rick asked.
“Someone did a little work on Sarah’s dildo, Rick.” She breathed out roughly. “There are half a dozen needles driven through it, only the sharp edges poking through. If he hadn’t messed up and left it laying out, it would have shredded her.” Her voice was rough, edged with anger and horror.
Rick paled; Marly’s cry was smothered by Cade’s chest. Sarah felt her knees going weak, a whimper escaped her throat. Instantly Brock was at her side, pulling her against him, staring at Rick, his expression livid.
Rick wiped his hand over his face.
“Son of a bitch.” He jerked the two-way radio from his belt. “Report in, all posts.”
“Marshal here.”
“Clive here.”
“Kensington here.”
There was a brief silence as they waited for the last female member of the team to answer in.
“Sorry boys, Miss James is a bit under the weather right now. She sends her apologies.”
Mechanical, amused, the evil voice held them all suspended for precious seconds.
“That’s him,” Sarah whispered as the guards burst into action. “The guy who shot me.”
“Heather,” Sam’s scream shocked them all. It vibrated through the hall as he took off after them.
“Let’s go.” Brock pulled Sarah behind him as they rushed through the house. “Where was the girl stationed?”
“Back of the house. She was watching the kitchen door.” They rushed for the kitchen, fear pulsing through them all, the shattered fury in Sam’s voice still throbbing inside them all.
* * * * *
They found Heather in a secluded area, hidden behind brush and boulders. She was unconscious, naked, bloody. Where the blood originated from Sarah couldn’t tell. But she saw the effect it had on the three men. They were pale, furious. Violence throbbed through the air, in their voices.
“Brock is readying the chopper. Get her prepared to fly.” Cade stood aside, holding Marly close. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.”
Rick motioned to the men standing around and they positioned themselves around the August family. Tara was calm, cool, but you could see the fear that pulsed just under the surface.
“I’m going.” Sam was kneeling beside the small woman, his hands gentle, tender as he touched her pale cheek.
“Sam.” Cade’s voice held a warning thread.
Sam shook his head. A tight, fierce movement that seemed to threaten his self-control.
“I’ll be fine. I have to go.” His voice was broken. There were no tears and Sarah wondered if after twelve years Sam would find the tears he had lost? His shoulders were slumped, though his body was rigid. He stared down at the bound, nude body, jerking his shirt off his back, then laying it over her as Rick worked to cut her ropes loose.
“Let’s move.” The shirt was wrapped around her now, but she still hadn’t regained consciousness.
As Sam picked Heather up gently and rushed with Rick and Tara to the helicopter, Sarah looked at Brock questioningly. His face was haunted, his eyes bleak and pain-filled.
“He hurt her,” Brock whispered.
“Did he rape her?” Sarah asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know.” Brock shook his head. A slow, careful motion. “But she’ll carry Sam’s scars now. I noticed the work.” He turned to Cade and their eyes met. “He’s not dead after all.”