CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rosemarie
He passed out right as I tied off the first stitch. I was surprised he’d made it this long. He must have had some willpower behind all those muscles, that was for sure. Okay, yes, he was in bad shape and I shouldn’t have been looking, but he was currently nearly naked sprawled out on my bed, it was hard not to notice his body. And those underwear. I couldn’t get over them. I mean not in a sexy way. I definitely wasn’t thinking about how they held him in when he was hard. No, that would be really, really wrong. But there was something about a man as big and manly as him not only wearing them, but not having any shame in it. It made them more sexy somehow.
He was charming, yes, in the kind of way that he knew that he was. The kind of way that made me want to smile and roll my eyes at the same time. I could only imagine him on a normal day, when he wasn’t struggling through such pain. But that wasn’t why I helped him out. I honestly couldn’t put a finger on the reason why I had, though. There was something about his blue eyes that held a calm warmth. And as odd as it sounded, it was like they reached into my soul and whispered words of how he wouldn’t hurt me.
It wasn’t really like me to take risks in life. I parked in the back of the building, right under the street light, not even twenty feet from the door to the stairs. To me, it was safer than parking out front on the street. I had never felt unsafe or uneasy walking from my car to the building. This was a pretty safe part of town, which was why I’d chosen to live here. So this, taking a stranger into my home, was not like me at all. And it wasn’t like I was welcoming a door to door salesman in because this guy had clearly gone through some shit. This was dangerous, whatever situation he was running from. And I had just put myself right in the middle of it. Stupid, stupid me. Even with all that said, I wasn’t about to turn him away.
I went into work mode even though my eyes were heavy and dry. I wanted a shower and sleep. Maybe even a late night snack at some point in there. It looked like I wouldn’t be getting any of that. Instead, I was getting more blood and dirt on me.
I watched as the curved needle pushed through his skin, sewing the horrid gashes back together. He looked like someone used him as a punching bag, pin cushion, and chopping dummy all at the same time. It was gruesome and cringe-worthy. I’d seen worse but at the same time, to know that there was someone out there that had not only wanted to do this to any other person, but actually took the time to do so, really started to mess with my head. I knew there were people out there that were sick and twisted, I’d just never come across anything like this before.
It made me scared. It made me want to cry. It made my heart ache for this man in front of me that had to endure it all.
I finished stitching him up then dressed all his open gashes. There were so many bruises all over his body. I did my best to check them over, carefully going over his ribs to see if I could tell if they might be broken. I tried to focus on what I was doing, but watching my fingers glide over his warm, smooth skin somehow started to put me into a trance.
“What the hell are you doing?” I mumbled out loud to myself. This man was unconscious and here I was feeling him up.
I shook my head and got to work with all seriousness in my head. I could tell that he’d taken a brutal beating, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own or leave lasting damage. I breathed a small sigh of relief for him. I shifted him as best as I could to check over his back, which I found to be dirty, but free of serious wounds. There was some deep coloring of bruises and I suspected that they weren’t anything like what was on the rest of him.
Just as I went to release him, I noticed a tattoo that covered his shoulder blade. The light in the room was too dark for me to make out more than a bunch of black lines and shading. I let my mind fill in the blanks with some imaginary picture as I rolled him on his back again.
He really needed to go to the hospital. And though he hadn’t outright said it, I could tell that was off the table. He was trying to avoid it and maybe I could understand that a little given what I’d seen.
I took a moment to take in his features. I imagined without all the swelling and the deep-set discoloration that he was quite handsome. His brow strong. His nose regal. His lips…well, they were honestly perfect. Some might have said kissable, the bottom just a little bit fuller than the top and both meeting to make perfect points at the crease. I could almost picture how soft they would be if they weren’t all dry and cracked—and, you know, caked with dried blood.
Taking in a deep breath, I told myself it was time. I was going to have to pull these giant splinters out one by one and I knew it wasn’t going to be fun. Probably even less so for him. At some point, this was going to jolt him awake, I knew that and so I was prepared for it.
I surveyed each one, noting that they hadn’t gone into any place that could cause real damage. I had no idea how deep they were but if I had to guess, they were no longer than six inches. And since most of them had a good inch or two sticking out, they couldn’t have been in too deep. Enough to cause an extreme amout of pain and discomfort. Most of them seemed to be at an angle that told me they were pushed in sideways, as if to go under the skin. This was something designed to torture this man. To make him squirm and writhe with pain.
Then my mind went there because there was simply no way to help it. Why did someone want to torture this man? What could he have done to warrant such a sick and sadistic thing? What was it that he was hiding? Or perhaps, he knew something that he was unwilling to share.
“What are your secrets?” I whispered like the universe would somehow shoot a lightning bolt down that held all the answers. “Not, important,” I murmured, and with a shake of my head, I got to work.
With a slow and steady hand, I grabbed the base of the one lodged into his rotator cuff. With my free hand, I press the firm skin around it. My sleeping stranger moaned but didn’t wake. It seemed to have missed the tendons from what I could tell. The muscles were punctured, but it would heal.
Slow. That was the way this had to go. I knew that if I yanked it out there was a chance that my hand could jerk or twist and I could end up causing more damage. So as slowly as I could manage, I began to slip the stick from his skin. Another moan and this time his body flinched, but I held him down and continued my work. Once it was free, I let out a sigh of relief.
“That sucks,” he said, his voice thick and raspy. I only jumped slightly because I didn’t suspect him to be conscious again.
His eyes blinked then they were searching out mine.
“I’m sorry, “ I whispered lamely, because what else could I really say?
“Don’t be,” he said and let his eyes close again. “I appreciate it. And besides, you are much more beautiful than the person that put those in.”
I felt a small tug at the corner of my lips. I wanted to smile but felt it would be wrong.
I kept going, pulling each one out as slowly and gently as I could, cleaning each puncture wound delicately after I was finished. He did his best to hold his body still, only letting out a few long groans of pain here and there. His jaw was taught and I could tell he was clenching his teeth to fight the pain. For some reason, this only made me feel a bigger tinge in my heart for this man.
“This is the last one,” I said, my hand hovering way too close to his manly bits, the ones that weren’t currently covered by much at all.
My hand pressed down on his thick thigh. The muscles twitched under my touch and his body seemed to shudder. I did my best to ignore it as I moved on.
“There,” I said, dropping the bamboo evilness on the bed with all the others.
“Thank you,” he said as his marred up hand caught mine. His face was open. The little hints of the charmer were gone. His eyes were murky and tired, but as they looked into mine, something washed through them.
“You should rest,” I said with a small nod. “I’ll see about getting something to remove that from your neck.”
I slipped off the bed, bending over to collect the mess of soaked gauze and implements of torture. Only once I was partially hidden in the bathroom, did I breathe a long needed sigh of relief.
This was not how my night was supposed to go. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had ended up stopping at the late night diner for some food. I’d been craving a BLT all day and the moment I clocked out, had decided I was going to treat myself.
It was only once I sat in my car and the action of the day seeped into my bones that I decided to choose sleep over food. Shower and bed had been the new plan. I didn’t believe in such things as fate and what have you, but it seemed like there was some kind of weird spell in the air tonight. Some kind of signal calling me home when I was needed. Still didn’t change the fact that I was exhausted. Or that I didn’t even know this stranger’s name. Or the fact that he was the first man I’d had in my bed in over a year—and I hadn’t even gotten any enjoyment out of it. That last part I almost had to laugh at.
Desperately needing a breather and a bottle of water, I made my way out to the kitchen. What I really could have used right now was a shot of vodka to quell my nerves and a strong cup of coffee to keep me going.
I had no idea how to remove a padlock. Yes, bolt cutters were the obvious answer, I’d had to do that a time or two at work. But that was not an option right now. And other than that, I was at a loss.
So what did any person in this day an age do when they needed answers?
Yep, I pulled out my phone and looked for videos. Wow, there were quite a few ways it could have been done. I didn’t currently have any soda cans lying about, I hated sugary drinks, so creating a makeshift shim was out of the question. I did have safety pins somewhere, so cutting the thick heads off of them and wiggling them around until I got the click and release I was looking for was an option. Though, I wasn’t sure exactly where those safety pins were at the moment.
But then I saw one that used two open-end wrenches. That I could do. I had a small toolbox under the kitchen sink for little things that I knew I could take care of on my own. I downed the bottle of water, sought after the right tools, grabbed a couple of bags of frozen peas, and then headed back into the bedroom.
He was out, the slight snores of his deep breathing filling the room. I placed the bags of peas on his face to help with the pain and swelling, making sure not to cover his nose or mouth.
Carefully, I maneuvered the padlock in a way that I could get to it how I needed it. Then I hooked each wrench around the U of the lock like I’d seen, with the ends creating a V. With all my strength, I gripped the two ends and tried to pull them together. I was sure this wasn’t going to work, seeing as in the video, what it did was break the metal that held the lock in place. I had a feeling the side wasn’t going to pop off like it did when I watched it.
An odd excitement shot through me as I felt it buckle under my pull. I kept on, a grunt slipping out of me as the ends of the wrenches dug into my palms. Then, with a snap, it broke free and the metal U was dangling there ready to be pulled free. I was honestly stunned and kinda sad that no one had been around to witness it. Damn. I kinda felt like a real badass for just a second there.
I lifted his head just enough to wrangle the chain free, then tossed everything into the bag he had been carrying. I wasn’t even going to ask about that. I mean, I really wanted to. Why was this man carrying around a woman’s purse? It was clear the only reason he’d had it was to hold the weight of the chain more easily. It made sense. But what didn’t make sense, was how he had gotten the purse in the first place. Or, you know, the fact that he had a chain around his neck, to begin with.
My curiosity screamed at me to look into the bag. I really wanted to, but it felt wrong. You didn’t look in other people’s things, especially not someone’s purse. That was a whole different level of invasion. On top of all of that, I was frightened at what I might even see in there.
The bruising on his neck called for my fingers to touch it. To caress it. And before I could help myself, I did, gently running the tips of my fingers over it like somehow I could soothe what was there.
“Are your fingers always so cold?” he asked in a sleep-like murmur.
“Sorry,” I said snatching my hand back then rubbing it with the other like I could somehow make them warm. I knew I couldn’t. I’d always had cold hands and there wasn’t a thing I could do to change that. Believe me, I had tried.
“No, I like it,” he said and his lips tipped up in a smile. I couldn’t tell if he thought he was dreaming or not. Maybe he was somewhere in a weird state of consciousness like his brain was too frightened to let him slip too far under, afraid that the danger might still be there. “Rosemarie.”
The whisper of my name had me humming in response as I studied his face. I don’t think he actually knew that he’d said it out loud. It came out dreamy and dare I say, whimsical.
That had to be my imagination. This was all strange and perhaps I was being a bit silly.
When he said nothing and it was clear he’d passed out again, I grabbed a clean set of clothes and made my way into my bathroom, locking the door behind me. I should have been worried, but I wasn’t. Even if he woke, even if he could somehow get out of that bed, I had this feeling deep inside that he wouldn’t harm me. So I showered, washing all the events of the day off. All of them. From the car crash victims, to the man that came in with his thumb on ice in a plastic bag, to the stranger sleeping in the next room over.
After I’d dried and dressed, my tired feet carried me out to the living room almost blindly. As my body fell heavily against the cushions of the couch, I thought about how I needed to try to get in touch with Sara Ann. But my hand never made it to reach for my phone. My fingers never got the chance to unlock my screen and type out a simple text. No, sleep took me over as I tried to hold on to the thought of all the things I needed to do.