Page 51 of Tortured Eyes
Twenty
Two weeks later
My arms, legs and back muscles all scream at me to stop, but I keep lifting the battle rope until the last few seconds are up. I drop it like it’s scalding hot the moment the buzzer sounds and lean forward onto my knees, desperate to draw in the oxygen I need. That last round nearly beat me.
“Hey, you’re going pretty hard today. Want to tell me why?” Jimmy’s voice is behind me before I’ve heard his approach. Sneaky bastard.
“You know why. I’ve got another circuit.”
“Not today, Bryce. You’re pushing yourself too hard. You need to take a break, or you’ll burn out.”
“I need this, Jimmy. I know my limits; trust me.”
“Not this time, babe. Hit the showers.”
I stare at him and see the steel in his eyes. He won’t budge. All the energy I lacked a few moments ago now floods my body, and I want to lash out, but I bite it down and turn to do as I’m told. It’s not Jimmy’s fault.
“Bryce, hey, listen. I’m here for you. Remember that. Don’t shut me out.” Jimmy grabs my shoulder to halt my departure.
“I’ve not shut you out of anything. You’re the only one who knows the shit I went through. Stop trying to be my shrink.”
“So, you’re seeing one?” The hope in his voice breaks my heart because my answer is a definite no.
“I’m good. I need to get to work, and I need you to stop wrapping me in cotton wool. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“So, they lifted the suspension?” he calls. The question stills me for a moment before I make a speedy exit, grab my gear and head straight home. A quick shower and change and I'll be ready to face my lieutenant. Again.
Jimmy is, it turns out, my best friend and I didn’t even know it until I came back. He was who I went to and who I confided in. There was too much to hold in, and I felt like I’d explode without talking it through with someone, to try to make sense of everything. Analyse, break down, put back together. It's just been a disappointment that every time I've built the story back up from the ground, I've been getting the same answer. My father worked for Cane, and Logan Cane manipulated me so he could fuck me and kill me. At least, that’s my belief about what he intended. Somewhere along the line that shifted, and the feelings around that shift still keep me up at night.
It took me several hours out there in the woods after he let me go before I flagged down a car and hitched back into the city. I had nothing on me. No keys, phone or wallet. My gun and my badge were gone. So, I went to Jimmy. He patched me up, fed me and let me scrub my skin raw before he asked a single question. It took a few passes to fill him in on all the events. The stuff wiped from my memory by the drugs Logan fed me didn’t play into my recount. Although with time, I’ve been able to piece some of the mental visions together.
It turns out I was gone for nearly six days, but my bike was miraculously back in my parking bay as if nothing had happened. Logan’s clean-up crew know what they’re doing; I’ll give them that.
I didn’t report for duty, which meant a shit tonne of explaining to do, on top of my missing service weapon and badge, but nothing to say. How could I? Logan was right. There is no way I’ll be able to go to the police with the story I have. What would I say? Witnessed a drug deal and shot some perps. Got kidnapped, beat up and tortured then drugged, before willingly having hate sex with my captor after he showed me how my father, the one person in the world I held above anything else, had worked for the criminals I thought he was working against?
What a fucking laugh.
Jimmy didn’t judge. He listened and got pretty fucking upset when I dropped the part where Logan confessed to being my torturer. It made me wonder who would win in a fight between the two.
My anger towards Logan should have grown with every word spoken to recount what he put me through, but it didn’t. I was mixed up and confused. Despite everything, there was a connection between us. That’s what led me to willingly have sex with him. But it was my subconscious that wanted him as well. It turned a lot of my thoughts to anger, and that anger morphed into something I’d not felt before—not in any physical way, at least.
But now? Revenge. That’s what I want.
Logan and the Cane empire have taken my father. Everything else, I could take, would willingly take again if this little part had been left untouched, but they've taken the memories I have of him. Now, every encounter and childhood smile has twisted into something I don’t recognise. It's something that makes me question who he was and what drove him to do such a thing when he was so adamant about the paths of right and wrong. He was the inspiration for me joining the police academy. He was why I worked so hard. And now everything good about him has been ripped away to expose a nasty, raw part of me that I don’t recognise.
But revenge is what led me here in the first place. Cane out for revenge and seeking to make me pay. Logan did this. Now Logan can reap what he’s damn well sown.
* * *
As requested, I head down to the precinct to see Benson. The whole damn ordeal feels like the walk of shame as I stride through the offices, like everyone's laughing because I’ve been suspended. Whispers and gossip can’t hurt me the way the truth can, though.
I knock on his door and wait for the bark of permission to enter.
“McCarthy.” He nods at the seat in front of his desk.
In that moment, all the pressure and all of his questions the first time I walked back into his office come crashing back around me. He was looking out for me, I know that, but it didn’t make it any easier at the time. There was nothing I could say to him, but it felt like my own form of betrayal to hide the truth from him. Everything to do with Cane is a betrayal, but it needs to stay in the dark.
“Sir.” I sit on the edge of my seat and await whatever he’s got to say next.
