Fatal Obsession (Black Widow Book 2) (14 page)

“We have two people to take care of before they reach Vladimir, Damien will have to take care of his cousin.”

Mike grunted his response, “I’ll go look around inside. We should pack everything up just in case someone else is sent out.”

Elaine nodded, speed dialling Damien’s phone then holding it up to her ear. It rang a few times before he answered. “We have a few problems lover boy and you need to take care of one of them.”

****

Tasha half ran, half jogged with a limp after Dale as he dragged her along by the cuffs. Her left wrist was now swollen and numb by how tight the cuffs were and she barely felt the chaffing, but she did feel it on her right wrist. This must constitute police brutality, adding on to how badly he’d driven them here. She’d been jostled around in the back seat as they gunned out of the woods. It wasn’t much better when they got to the tarmac road. The speeding, the sharp corners; all meant to punish her she was sure of it. She’d hit her left side into the door so many times, her ribs were bound to be bruised.

Make a perfect match with my right side.

The buzzing that was present in the large room littered with desks all of a sudden fell silent when they reached the middle of the room. People stood from their seats, others stopped talking and turned to face them, the looks on their faces menacing. Then out of nowhere, someone clapped and it grew to a deafening roar as everyone clapped and cheered, shouting congratulations to Dale for finally catching ‘the cold hearted bitch’. That sent a chill through her.

She breathed easier when they disappeared into a hallway and emerged in front of two large glass doors directly opposite two elevators—escape was tempting. Dale dragged her through the glass doors and she found herself in different room. This room was smaller with lesser desks. She waited for the clapping and rebuke from the small crowd there, but they just stared at the two of them as they approached.

“I thought I told you to wait for backup,” the man with a dark suit, his arms crossed over his chest, said coolly.

“And give her a chance to escape, no way,” Dale responded, pulling her cuffs so that she swung forward then pushed her down into a chair by a desk. Her right side ribs made contact with the edge of the desk and she bit her lips shut to keep from crying out. Well, they weren’t fully healed either and if this went on, they never would be.
Just great!

“Are you okay?” an older looking man with a graying beard and hair asked her, coming closer to her.

She edged back into the chair and just nodded. Being in the hands of one abusive FBI agent was enough. His face creased in anger and she edged further away from him. He stepped away from her, rounding on Dale.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

Dale glared back, “Not enough!”

Tasha’s eyes rounded.
Okay, time to get out of here!

“And whatever he did, she certainly deserved it,” a redhead, the tips of her hair dyed black piped up. She moved toward Tasha but this time Tasha didn’t move away. She wasn’t going to let them push her around, she’d had enough from Dale to last her a lifetime.

The redhead scoffed at her impertinence, “Nice to see you again.”

Tasha was really starting to hate redheads. “Can’t say the feeling is mutual. Who are you again?”

She scoffed again. “Still going with the amnesia story. I know one thing that’s proven to restore memories,” she drew her hand back, fist clenched and held it there threateningly.

“Go ahead. Being abused by another agent will strengthen my police brutality suit. It will work well for me too; I’m in serious need of some major cash.”

“Gwen, step away from her or I’ll add a suspension to the month of desk duty you just earned.”

She rounded on the suit, “What? I didn’t do anything to the bitch!”

“What you did was earn another month.”

She growled, glaring at Tasha one last time and stomped away towards a wooden door on her right, banging it shut on her exit. Tasha let out a breath and slumped into the chair, then winced. Damn she hurt all over! The suit stepped forward and Tasha went on her guard again.

He held out his hands, “Don’t worry, I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to introduce myself.”

“You can do that just fine by remaining where you are.” She returned, ready to bolt if he swung one of those hands in her direction. Was this why Elaine didn’t want her calling the cops if something happened? Well, if they were all like this, she was going to block nine-one-one from her call list.

He nodded, “Alright.” He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and Tasha relaxed a little. “I’m Richard Beckett, Dale’s boss.”

“His boss?” she chuckled bitterly. “Then I’m majorly screwed. So what should I expect in my near future, waterboarding, beatings with a phone book? I always thought they exaggerated that in the movies but after riding in the back of his car, cuffed to the door, I’m starting to see the light.”

He smiled slightly, “Why don’t we start with your name?”

“Tasha Turner—Smith,” she stole a glance at Dale before she faced Richard. “Smith is my maiden name, Turner my married name, which I won’t be using as soon as I can make it happen—divorce that is. Just call me Tasha.”

“You’re getting divorced? Mind if I ask why?”

She stole another glance at Dale. “Let’s just say he and Agent Carson are cut from the same cloth.”

Richard looked her over and his eyes stilled on her wrist before they cut quickly in Dale’s direction. He turned back to her, his expression softened, “Is it okay if I come over there and undo the cuffs? They look very tight.”

She shook her head, “No thanks. I’d rather none of you come near me. I survived them on the ride here, I can survive them until my family comes to get me out of here.” She shrugged, looking down at her suspiciously bluing hand. “Besides, I can’t feel my left one anymore. It hadn’t healed completely after Tom—I’ll just wait for Damien.”

“Damien, who’s that?” Richard went on conversationally. For a moment, Tasha thought he was being friendly until she met Dale’s glare and remembered they were not to be trusted.

“I would like to call him for my one phone call. That’s also true right; I’m allowed one phone call?”

“Have you never been to a police station before?” the old man asked.

She shook her head, “No, never and if I have I don’t remember. I lost my memory in a car crash over a year ago. I don’t remember anything except for the year after I woke from a coma.”

“I’m Doran by the way. How extensive were your injuries?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d healed up the two months I was out, but I do know for sure that my head was split open. The scar runs from the base of my skull to my temple. Damien thought it was weird how straight it was.”

“Mind if I see for myself?”

Eyes set on Doran she answered, “Yes, very much.” She turned to Richard. “Can I call my sister then? She’ll explain everything better than I can.”

They all exchanged weird looks, even the three who hadn’t spoken—a kid who looked too young to be in the FBI, a blonde who looked to sweet to be part of Dale’s crowd and a chubby girl who looked like she’d fallen in a pool of colors.

“Your sister?”

She groaned, “Not this again. My sister, my
only
sister. Elaine Smith. And no, she’s not my twin, I don’t have one. No brothers either, just an abusive soon to be ex-husband, a best friend, the love of my life, Damien,” she turned to Dale, “even though that eats at you,” she turned back to Doran and Richard, “and DJ, our son.”

“Damien Junior,” Dale snarled.

That raised her hackles. No one spoke like that about her son, “No! Damien James Chan and watch your tongue when you speak about my son!”

“James?”

She nodded, feeling hollow in her chest like she always did when she thought of her parents. “I didn’t even know that was my father’s name until DJ… Damien told DJ that he was named James, after his grandfather on his momma’s side, my dad.” Her lips trembled and she blinked to keep the tears away. Finally, she just looked down at her cuffed wrists.

“Why hasn’t your sister told you about your parents?”

Tasha jumped at how close Doran’s voice was. He was seated right next to her. She hadn’t even noticed him, let alone the chair that he was currently sitting on, move.

She stared warily at him, “Shouldn’t I be waiting for a lawyer or something before I keep talking?”

Doran smiled, “Not necessarily. This isn’t an interrogation, we are just talking.”

She rolled her lower lip into her mouth and looked around the room. They had all moved a comfortable distance away and it was only Doran who was very close to her. Was this supposed to make her feel safe and supported? Was Doran the one she was to develop—what was the word they used on CSI?—anyway, was she supposed to form some sort of trusting relationship with him so that when she didn’t see it, he would have her confessing to things she didn’t do, or doesn’t remember doing?

“Look, I don’t remember anything. The only thing I could remember after the coma was how to talk and I was very slow at it. I had to relearn everything, walking, reading, writing, things in everyday life that you probably take for advantage,” she held her hands up, “I learned what cuffs were when I was watching CSI. If I couldn’t remember something as simple as a shoe, do you really think I remember whatever it is that Dale hates me so much for?”

“All I asked was why your sister didn’t tell you about your parents?” he prodded gently.

“I don’t know, maybe because she was protecting me? I have this knack of passing out when I try to remember or when something is too much for my brain to handle.” She swallowed hard. “My mind shuts down, I’m out for hours and when I do wake up, I’m back to square one.”

“Square one?”

“I wake up with no memories, not of myself or my son. I can’t let that happen ever again so if you don’t mind, stop asking me questions, call my sister and ask her.”

Dale charged at her, “You’re done talking when we say you are!”

She had had enough of his hostility. She leaped out of the chair, “How you could be related to someone as sweet and caring as Damien is a mystery. You know what, whatever it is that I did to you, you deserved it, you fucking ogre!”

He growled loudly and grabbed her swollen wrist, sending black spots into her vision. She was going to be sick on his shoes.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

Damien, thank God
. She turned to find him standing at the door, his feet planted apart, a fist clenched at his side, his face creased in such anger that his lips twitched in a snarl. He looked formidable even while carrying DJ. Their son had one hand slung behind Damien’s neck, his little face scrunched up too, making him look so much like Damien with his little fist clenched. She fell against the desk, dizzy when Dale let go of her. Damien was there the next second, holding her up.

“Hey, babe,” he cooed, cupping her cheek in his big hand.

Tasha swallowed the bile in her mouth, wishing the dark spots in her vision away, “You have no idea how glad I am you’re here.”

“Glad enough to stay awake?” he teased, but she knew he was also serious. He slapped her cheek lightly, “Come on, VS, don’t pass out on me, can’t have you forgetting our amazing month.”

Tears prickled her eyes and he blurred even more. “I’m trying but it hurts so much.”

“What hurts?”

“My wrist.” She swallowed hard. “On the bright side, if I do pass out, I won’t vomit all over you.” She sank as she got lightheaded.

Chapter Eight

“Damn it!” Damien cursed, scooping her up into his arms, turned the chair she was sitting on around until its back rested on the desk and sat down with her on his lap. Her head lolled back and forth as he moved. He cupped it in his hand to steady her and kissed her cheek. She was warm and perspiring. The last time this happened she didn’t remember she had a son.

He turned to where DJ was. He was moving towards them very slowly, his eyes wide as saucers, probably fearing the worst. The same look he’d given him when Elaine had called with the news. They’d just gotten their hair cut and were headed to a jewelry store to get VS something to just say they loved her. He wasn’t sure what he felt for her the years he’d been searching for her, but this last month, he’d fallen for her. How could he not? She was wonderful, nothing like Ellsa. He was convinced now that she was a different person and he was planning to meet up with Dale and convince him of the same.

Damien’s heart dropped to his stomach when he heard Dale had arrested her. But when Elaine told him that the man they’d been running from had found her minutes after Dale had, he was relieved. Dale might be angry with her, but he was no idiot. But now seeing her, limp in his arms, he wasn’t so sure his cousin’s hands were the safest for her to be in.

“I should never have left you.” Damien sat her up on his lap and shook her, “Come on, stay awake.”

Tasha groaned, her face creasing in pain. He was tempted to squeeze her injured wrist to keep her awake, but it could also push her over the cliff to oblivion.

“Daddy, open her mouth.”

He looked at DJ. He was rummaging through his backpack that he never went anywhere without and emerged with a bottle of… Tabasco sauce?

“Why do you have Tabasco sauce in your backpack?” Even as he asked he thumbed Tasha’s lower jaw open.

“Extra hot Tabasco sauce. It’s a stimulant, enough to keep her from completely losing consciousness.” DJ shook a generous amount on her tongue. 

“That’s new. Why not use smelling salts instead?” Doran asked innocently enough.

“She’ll unconsciously hold her breath. She’s been trained to hold her breath for a very long time.” DJ answered absently. Damien noticed the attention he’d drawn with that.

“DJ, what is it that Aunt Elaine is always telling you?”

DJ looked up at him and then around the room. He turned back to Damien with a small nod of understanding. Tasha chose this great time to sputter awake. DJ smiled triumphantly, fastening the bottle closed before putting it back into his backpack.