Khan (Bowen Boys, #2)(31)

“Remember, remember, remember. Calm thoughts, Tony, calm thoughts. Rain, sunshine, flowers, cats, dogs. Calm, Tony, calming thoughts. He was on his fourth list of calm words he’d been using for the past two days when he remembered. “Ah ha. You were in her room when I went there to speak to her.” He looked at the television and they were all gone. The news was over and his Monica was gone. He knew that he’d not be able to rewind it or to make it come back, but he knew where she was now. His Monica was with that woman Bowen.

This time when he went to the door, he had packed up all this things. He decided to leave his bloodied shirt behind. He wasn’t even sure now that it was his. And since he wasn’t sure, he wasn’t going to soil his clothes with that one.

His car was still there. Tony couldn’t really believe now that he’d thought the one that the Bowen woman was showing everyone was his. He hadn’t left the hotel for…the pain in his head made him stop thinking about it, and he got in his car. Smiling, he drove out of the garage and onto the street.

Getting to the house proved to be difficult. He couldn’t remember names of streets, and the house number and street name kept skittering away when he tried to recall it. He thought about stopping and asking for directions, but that, too, hurt him. He finally had to pull over and crawl into the back seat to close his eyes. As soon as he closed his eyes, he drifted away.

He’d been five when they’d put him away the first time. He’d done something bad, really bad. But his mind wouldn’t, or couldn’t, he didn’t know which, let him see it. There was a crib and a little pink dolly. But he’d spent a long time there and it wasn’t too bad. It was when he’d been a teenager that he’d really been afraid.

He didn’t know why he’d woken up there. He’d been in his bed the last time he could remember anything and had been jarred awake in That Place. That Place is how he thought of it when he did. And when he did, he always had bad dreams. Horrible, screaming dreams that made him hurt for days.

They had tied him down at first, and no amount of begging would get them to call his father. He’d begged so much that they’d finally put a gag in his mouth. And shutting him up wasn’t the only thing they’d used that nasty thing for.

When he’d been there a few days, a nurse came to him and told him it was time for his treatments. He had no idea what that meant. His mother had treatments too, but it usually meant her hair or her body needed to be changed. This treatment wasn’t a treat at all.

Tony shifted on the seat and moaned. He knew he was sleeping, but he could also hear things going on around him. He drifted back to the dream when he realized it was nothing more than a horn beeping somewhere close.

They had tied him to a metal bed. He knew it was metal because it had been cold and hard. When they tightened the gag—a ball on a leather strap—into his mouth, he had screamed around it. But no one would listen to him. When the doctor came in and—

He came awake screaming. He hurt now as he had then. A thirteen-year-old boy should not have to do that, he thought, and held his head in his hands. The blood that poured from his nose and ears made him afraid, but he didn’t leave the back seat. He knew that if he did, they’d take him back there. He had to find his Monica and make her pay.

This was all Monica’s fault.

~~~

Monica sat in the living room and stared at the two men with her. At least one person was with her all the time and when there was no one in the house, as there wasn’t now, there were two. And she was pissed about it.

“It’s to keep you safe,” Khan had told her when she went to him last night. “You can’t expect me to like the fact that we’re using you as bait to catch a madman. I agreed to this on the condition that you had a bodyguard. And you’ll abide by this for me.”

She didn’t like it, but knew that he wasn’t going to relent. She eyed the younger man and decided to practice on him. He seemed to be nice, but she was bored and pissed.

Reaching out to his mind, she made him scratch his head. When he did it, she was delighted. Off and on for an hour she played with him. Nothing dangerous, but just enough fun to keep her from storming over to him and punching him in the nose.

“What is he doing?”

The voice startled her and she looked over at George.

“Is he really dancing with a mop?”

He looked at her and winked. She flushed, pulled out of the younger man’s mind, and put him back to rights. She was glad that George didn’t ask about the lampshade on his head when the man put it back.

“Having a little fun, are you? I had a long talk with Dylan and he told me about his visit. Thank you for that.” George sat down beside her. “You want some real company?”

“Yes, and what are you thanking me for? He helped me, not the other way around.” She liked the elder Bowen, both of them, as a matter of fact. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Mrs. Bowen were told to stay home.”

“We were. But like you, we got bored. And we wanted to see that new show at the theater. I so love going to plays and operas in this town.” He patted her on the knee. “I’m thanking you for not freaking out when Dylan had his talk with you and for giving him the push to tell us. It was quite a shock, but we’re so happy for him. Both of you, really. Are you…” He looked over at the young man again. “Ah, practicing, were you? Good. It might be helpful if you have that.”