In His Keeping

She was listless. Unmoving on her own. She was jerked along like a puppet or rather a doll being dragged behind a child by a single arm. Her hair was tousled, strands going in a dozen different directions. It looked tangled and in complete disarray.

His gut clenched even harder as he imagined all the possible reasons for a woman to look as she did. He turned, ensuring Ginger was heeding his order, something he never gave his wife unless it had to do with her or Ari’s safety.

Her gaze leapt to his in question, her entire body surging forward, though she gripped the edge of the cot with her fingers as though to prevent herself from flying forward to see for herself. God, if he could only shield her from this. If he could have only shielded her and Ari both. The weight of his mistakes, his failures, weighed heavily on his heart and mind, but for now he had to push past his guilt and overwhelming sense of helplessness and figure out a way to get his family out.

Finally the long path down the hallway brought Ari close enough for Gavin to look closer. Still unmoving, hair in disarray, bruises . . . He bit back a savage oath as he took in the purple blotches, the size of fingerprints, on her arms and shoulders. She was wearing only a thin tank top and then he froze when one of the guards jerked her in his direction so the other could unlock the cell.

The movement sent the hair that tumbled forward over her shoulders, covering most of her chest, to the side and he saw the white tank top turn scarlet before his very eyes. His heart seized, terror slamming his airway shut.

It—and she—were bathed in blood.

“Back up!” the guard with the key barked at Gavin.

As if reinforcing the other guard’s demand, the man holding Ari hauled her more upright, shaking her like the rag doll Gavin had likened her to as she’d been dragged down the hall. Behind him, Ginger gasped in horror and then cried out in utter despair, “Ari!”

His wife’s agonized cry shook Gavin from his momentary stupor and torment. He lunged for the bars, hitting them so hard they shook and rattled as he roared his rage, forgetting all about his worry that his reaction would incite them to further malice.

Desperately, he thrust his arms through the thick bars, straining forward, trying to reach his daughter. Trying to get his hands on the men responsible.

“Get back!” one of the men snarled, though he took a hasty step backward even as he uttered the command, ensuring he was well out of Gavin’s reach.

The one not holding Ari brandished a stun gun, the same one he’d used on Gavin before. This time he aimed it not at Gavin, but at Ginger, who now stood upright beside the cot, her face sheet-white as she stared at her bloodied daughter.

“Perhaps you forgot what happened last time you forgot your place,” the guard said in a menacing voice. “Get back or I’ll shock your wife, and you can forget seeing your precious daughter.”

It took every ounce of Gavin’s discipline to simply stand down, to slowly back away, ensuring his body once more stood between Ginger and the guard holding the Taser. He wanted to go after them both as soon as the door was opened, wanted to take them apart, piece by bloody piece. Spill their blood as they’d spilled Ari’s.

When the guard was satisfied that Gavin was a sufficient distance back, he inserted the key into the lock, but his gaze never left Gavin and Ginger, and the hand holding the gun was steady, never lowering.

With a groan, the cell door strained to open, years of rust and neglect eating away at it. Gavin had spent the entire first forty-eight hours of confinement ruthlessly and tirelessly testing every square inch of the cell, looking for any deficit, any weakness to exploit. Anything that could prove a possible escape route. Only to come up empty-handed.

Not even entering the cell, perhaps rightfully wary of Gavin’s savage rage that Gavin knew was clearly outlined on his face and in his eyes, and evidently not wanting to afford Gavin any opportunity to lash out, the guard holding Ari stopped just shy of the open doorway while his partner took position between them, the Taser pointed in Gavin and Ginger’s direction.

Then the guard simply propelled Ari forward, her slight weight momentarily becoming airborne at his vicious shove. She hit the floor with a resounding thud that made Ginger cry out again, and Gavin flinched at his daughter’s motionless body lying on the floor like a broken doll.

She lay there, eyes open, but completely unaware. Blood streamed from her nose, her mouth. God, it looked like it was coming from her ears and even her eyes.

The guards beat a hasty retreat, closing and locking the cell door before hurrying away, disappearing from sight.

Gavin rushed the few feet over to Ari, sinking to his knees, his hands automatically running over her body, afraid of what he’d find. Ginger joined him, her eyes red and swollen, so much worry reflected in her tormented gaze.

“There’s so much blood!” Ginger choked out around a sob. “Oh God, Gavin, is she . . . Is she even alive?”

Gavin’s eyes briefly closed even as he carefully smoothed Ari’s hair from her neck so he could check for a pulse. His own heart was about to beat out of his chest. His hands were shaking so badly that his fingers kept glancing off her skin before he could ascertain the strength of her pulse. Or if she even had one.

Finally he forced himself to calm enough that his hand steadied, and he pressed the area over her carotid artery. He sagged, nearly toppling over with relief when he felt the erratic flutter against his fingertips.

“She’s alive,” he said quietly.

“Oh thank God,” Ginger whispered brokenly. Then she touched his arm to get his attention, her terrified gaze finding his. “How can we know how badly she’s injured? What if we do her more harm by moving her?”