Beyond the Breaking Point - Lori Sjoberg Page 0,19

the weight of her stare. “Seven pellets in the right lumbar area…doesn’t appear to have penetrated the muscle. It could have been a lot worse. I’ll have you patched up in no time.”

“Gee, I guess it’s my lucky day.”

Something rustled in the tall brush to Wade’s left. His senses pricked as he reached for the shotgun and aimed it toward the noise. But then he heard a whistle, and the tension knotting his muscles relaxed when he realized it was Hector.

Moments later, his partner emerged from the brush, face flushed, clothes scuffed, and his hair sticking up in a hundred different directions.

“Sorry it took me so long to get to…” Hector’s voice trailed off at the sight of a shirtless Wade aiming a shotgun at him. His hands went up in a don’t-shoot-me gesture. “Okay, what did I miss?”

“Tiny took some buckshot in the back. I’m about to remove the pellets.”

Concern widened Hector’s eyes. “Shit, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Wade bit out as he lowered his weapon.

“He’ll be fine once I clean him up,” Hope corrected, and he shot her a glare over his shoulder.

Hector dragged a hand through his short brown hair, which only made more of the ends stick up. “Is there anything I can do to help? Anything you need?”

“At this point, all I need is a patient who allows me to take care of him,” Hope replied.

Wade grunted. “Just get it over with, will you? We’re losing daylight.”

Hector’s gaze went from Hope to Wade. He avoided eye contact and didn’t try to look at the scars on Wade’s back, and for that Wade was grateful. “I’ll, uh…I’ll go check the perimeter while you take care of him. Holler if you need anything.”

Without another word, he disappeared into the brush.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Hope removed the pellets embedded in his skin. It didn’t hurt, but he felt a slight pressure along his back each time she plucked one out.

Once she finished removing all of the debris, she cleaned the wounds with antiseptic wipes and retrieved a tube of ointment from her bag. “If you prefer, I can tell you how I think you got these scars, and you can tell me whether I’m close.”

The idea intrigued him. “Sure, give it your best shot.”

Her fingers traced over the planes of his back like a blind person reading Braille. And although her touch was featherlight, it felt like a brand on his skin. “Severe lacerations…chemical burns. There’s a fair amount of discoloration.” Her hand skimmed higher. “This puncture mark near the left shoulder blade looks like it was made by a bullet.” She didn’t speak again for over a minute as she dabbed ointment onto the wounds. “In addition to the gunshot, I’m going to guess you were whipped, and then somebody poured bleach over the open wounds.”

Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard to force back the bitter burning. He shouldn’t have let her guess. Her list didn’t cover everything that was inflicted on him, but it came close enough to trigger an avalanche of memories. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as every second of that godforsaken day flashed through his mind. “It wasn’t bleach; it was liquid chlorine.”

To this day, he couldn’t go near a swimming pool without his stomach churning.

Hope made a noncommittal noise. “Aranza and his men did this to you?”

He nodded, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a whisper. Finished with the ointment, she put the tube back into her bag and took out a packet of gauze. “That must have been excruciating. It’s a miracle you survived.”

“Yeah…well…” There were days he wished he hadn’t. Things might have been better that way. “It’s nothing compared to what my partner went through.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re not one of the assholes who did it.” He let out a shuddering breath as a fresh round of rage and grief ripped through him. His insides felt raw, as though they’d been dragged through broken glass. “They made me watch while they tortured my partner. During the breaks while they waited for Lopez to regain consciousness was when they worked on me.”

Why the fuck was he telling her any of this? He honestly couldn’t say. For years, the shrinks had tried to convince him to talk about what happened, but he’d never felt comfortable enough to do it. It seemed too personal, too awful to share, even with members of his