After the Storm (KGI #8)(122)

CHAPTER 43

THE moment Donovan walked into his home, carrying Eve and flanked by Travis, who had hovered the moment they exited the plane, Cammie launched herself from Sophie’s lap where they’d been sitting on the sofa and ran toward Donovan and Travis.

Travis immediately scooped her up, hugging her fiercely, but Cammie’s gaze was fixed on Eve, her eyes rounded in fear.

“Evie?” Cammie whispered. “What’s wrong with Evie?”

She glanced at Donovan, tears filling her big eyes.

“She’s okay, sweetheart,” Donovan said, hoping God forgave that lie. “She’s just sleeping. She’s very, very tired and we must let her rest.”

Maren walked forward, her forehead creased in concern.

“Not here,” Donovan said in a low voice. “I’ll take her in the bedroom.”

As he spoke, he glanced toward Sophie, sending her a silent message to distract Cammie.

“Stay here with Cammie,” Donovan said to Travis. “She needs the reassurance. I know you’re worried about Eve, but Maren will see to her and I’ll let you know the moment anything changes.”

Travis didn’t look happy with the dictate, but he didn’t argue. Instead he turned on a bright smile for Cammie.

“I missed you, little bit. How about we go play with Cece and her toys?”

Cammie looked doubtful, but at Donovan’s urging, she complied and slid from Travis’s grasp only to grab his hand and tug him toward the makeshift play area Sophie had constructed for the girls.

Donovan quickly carried Eve into his bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. Her eyes were closed now, where before they’d remained open and vacant. Lifeless. Utterly lifeless. But now she slept, and he found more comfort in that, that perhaps she was at peace for a few moments at least, than for her to be awake and unaware, in some private hell that only she could feel.

He’d take it from her in a heartbeat. He’d take her pain, her suffering, her grief and anger and he’d shoulder it all if only he could have her back. Whole. The Eve he knew and had grown to love more fiercely than he’d imagined ever being able to love a woman.

He knew love existed. He knew it was a precious thing indeed. He saw how his brothers and his team leaders were with their wives. But did they feel the all-consuming emotion that Donovan felt? Could what he felt possibly compare to what his brothers shared with their wives? He found it hard to believe, but he supposed his brothers would argue that point. They’d all take on whatever hurts their wives suffered. They’d die for them with no hesitation. There was no sacrifice too large or too difficult to make for them.

Love was a multifaceted, painful, joyful, fulfilling and frightening-as-hell thing.

It made a man vulnerable. It opened him up to unimaginable hurts and agony. But it also gifted him with something more powerful than anything else in the world. The love of a woman was the most precious gift a man would ever receive. And Donovan would never take it for granted. If he was able to win Eve back, win her trust and her love, he’d treasure it forever. And he’d never give her cause to doubt him again. If it took the rest of his life, he would make up the hurt he’d caused her.

Maren was reading over the medical reports they had taken from the hospital, her frown deepening the more she read. Then she tossed aside the papers in disgust and went to Eve’s bedside, doing a thorough examination. She gently pried open Eve’s eyes and shone a penlight, checking her pupils. Then she took her vitals, listened to her respirations, counting them silently, her lips moving, the only sign that she was keeping count.

When she finished she sighed and turned to Donovan.

“They’ve turned her into a vegetable,” she said, her eyes shiny with tears. And hatred. “Skylar told me of the journal that was found in the cabin and Walt’s entry that he planned to punish Eve if she resisted his advances. If she refused his plans for her. In an odd way, he found the idea of forcing himself on her repugnant. The ass**le thought Eve should feel honored that Walt wanted her in his bed, as his mistress. So if she resisted, and it’s obvious that she did, he planned to institutionalize her for a time. Keep her heavily sedated and then he’d visit after she had time to come off the medication and be lucid enough to choose. Continued existence as a lifeless vegetable in restraints. Or agree to his demands to share his bed and allow him to control every aspect of her life.”

“He was deranged,” Donovan bit out. He was seething with fury, but at the same time he was grateful that she hadn’t been sexually abused. Not that the abuse she’d endured was somehow better. But at least she hadn’t been physically harmed.

“In some ways this is worse than if he’d raped her,” Maren said quietly, accurately reading Donovan’s thoughts. “He didn’t rape her body, but he very much raped her mind. He robbed her of her choices, her sanity. He stripped her of everything. Her self-worth, her very being. I truly believe she may well have recovered sooner from a physical rape than she will from this kind of rape.”

“Will she recover?” Donovan asked hoarsely. “What did they give her, Maren? I need the truth here. Don’t go easy. I need to know. Did they damage her mind permanently? Will she ever be normal again?”

“Sit down,” Maren said gently, pulling at Donovan’s arm until he sat in the chair by the bed.

“They kept her heavily drugged, from what I’ve been able to ascertain, and believe me when I say this was no legitimate medical facility so the records are spotty at best and vague. They gave her psychotropic drugs at regular intervals. Far too regular. Four times daily, and she was already heavily drugged when she arrived. Some medications like Thorazine have a longer half-life, and it could take days to fully rid her body of its effects. If we got lucky and they gave her a drug with a shorter half-life, it’s possible she’ll come around sooner. There’s simply no way to know.”