Keep Me Safe(79)
Tears streamed down Ramie’s face. Her voice was nearly gone from the force of her screams. The next came out in an ugly hoarse rasp when he made another cut, this time on her hip.
“Please don’t do this,” Ramie begged, her chest heaving from her pants of pain. “I thought you loved me,” she whispered. “You promised . . .” Her voice trailed off and her bowed body sagged back onto the mattress. She finally passed out. She’d earned a measure of respect from Charles. Not many people would have been able to stay conscious for as long as she had under such horrific conditions.
Charles frowned. Caleb’s eyes flickered. Turmoil shone in features creased with pain. Charles knew he had to get Ramie out now before Caleb broke free from his hold on him, but he felt like a pouty child deprived of his favorite toy.
Caleb’s movements were jerky, spasmodic almost as he leaned down and scooped Ramie up into his arms. Smiling, Charles followed along, continuing to film. The blood dripping from Ramie onto the floor was a nice touch. It added authenticity, but Charles was careful not to step in it.
Charles was sure to film Caleb stashing her in the backseat of his SUV. After the police saw this video, there would be no doubt as to who Ramie St. Claire’s murderer was. They wouldn’t even need the body to gain a conviction!
THIRTY-FOUR
CALEB’S eyes opened and immediately slammed shut. What little he’d seen of the room had been like a crazy Tilt-A-Whirl, spinning so rapidly it had made him instantly dizzy. His temples throbbed. Pain speared his skull and radiated down to the base of his neck. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips, trying to moisten them.
His nostrils flared, the sickening sweet smell of . . . blood? . . . overwhelmed his senses. It was unmistakably blood.
His stomach balled into a knot and he sat up in bed, eyes flying open to the unthinkable.
Blood bathed the sheets, the mattress, the pillows. Oh God. It bathed him, covering his hands, arms, chest and legs.
He rolled off the bed, landing on the floor as his stomach heaved and he gagged at the overwhelming stench.
“Ramie!” he yelled hoarsely. “Ramie!” Oh God, where was she? What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember? Surely he would have remembered her bleeding this much. Why wasn’t she in bed?
He pushed himself off the floor and stumbled into the hallway, only to trip over the dead body of one of his security specialists.
“Oh Jesus,” he said with growing horror. This was a nightmare. It had to be. It was the only reasonable explanation. None of this was real.
“Ramie!” he yelled as he ran down the hall, throwing open every single door in an effort to locate her. Where the hell was everyone?
His blood ran cold when he saw the back door was ajar. He sprinted over, shoving the door open wider, and his gaze fell over the second dead body.
A chill slithered up his spine, a sense of foreboding so strong within him that it paralyzed him. He stared numbly at the dead man. A hole was punched through his forehead. His eyes were glassy with death and the back of his head had been blown off by the bullet.
He leaned over and vomited on the patio. His stomach clenched viciously, curling into knots, forcing more of the contents of his stomach out onto the ground.
He had to find Ramie. He had to call someone for help. He couldn’t remember what had happened here. Shouldn’t he know what occurred? Ramie couldn’t have disappeared and two men killed without him knowing, could they?
He stumbled back into the nightmare of the bedroom and stared at the blood-covered bed. Then he reached for the phone, his fingers shaking when he punched in Beau’s number. Tori, Quinn and Beau had to be all right. Maybe Beau would know where Ramie was and what awful thing had struck here.
“Caleb, where the hell are you?” Beau barked into the phone after the first ring.
“At the safe house,” Caleb said faintly. “Something terrible has happened, Beau. Is Ramie with you?”
“Don’t move,” Beau said curtly. “Don’t touch anything. You understand me? We’ll be there in three minutes.”
Caleb frowned at the disconnected phone in confusion. He was missing something vitally important, but what? Why couldn’t he remember anything of the night before?
Mindful of his brother’s command not to touch anything, Caleb walked to the front door of the house, stepping outside into the bright wash of sun. He squinted and then shielded his face from the sun with one hand. And then he stared transfixed at the dried blood that covered his outstretched hand.
Two vehicles screeched to a stop in front of the house. Beau was out and running from one while Dane and Eliza jumped from the other and bore down on him, their expressions grim and . . . furious.