Tempest - Kris Michaels Page 0,15

He'd peg the guy as a biker, not a shrink.

He arched an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Survive. Mentally what did you do to stay... present."

Tempest leaned back in his chair and twirled the rubber band he'd found on the desk as he thought of his answer. "At first I built a house."

"What kind of house?"

"Just a house. I dug the foundation and poured it. Next was the framing. Board by board. I pounded each nail, sanded, scraped, sawed, painted, ran the electricity, the plumbing."

"You did this when?"

"After the sessions. During the months they forgot about me." He'd disclosed all the hows of the torture sessions to the good doctor. He also knew of the starvation and the neglect. There was no need to drag the baggage out and repack it. They'd gone through those sessions and the aftermath in detail.

"What happened when you finished the house?" Remi leaned in as if his answer would be intriguing.

"I added a room, built a porch and started on the garage."

"Was there ever a time you felt like giving up?"

"Many."

"Was there ever a time you gave up?"

Tempest caught the rubber band and leaned his elbows on the desk. He stretched the band in his fingers and nodded.

"Tell me."

"I thought she was a dream at first. She was so gentle." He chuffed a humorless laugh. "God I must have been rank, but she... washed me, cared for the worst of my wounds and then she slid behind me on the cot and..." It was the first time he could remember being warm in... an eternity.

"And?"

"She held me and gave me a shirt to wear. I was so fucking cold."

"What else did she do?"

"She talked to me." It had been forever since someone had talked to him. Interrogation, screaming slurs, inflicting pain and taunting, yes. Human conversation? No. She’d spoken as if he mattered... and the simple tactic had shattered him.

"How?"

Tempest felt tears form but he'd be damned if he'd allow those emotions to be seen. Remi Wheeler had seen tears before. No doubt he'd witnessed tears of frustration, of pain, of suffering, but these tears were not for anyone to see. His emotions and his thoughts of Pilar were sacred to him. "Kindly."

He closed his eyes and dropped his head. She'd wrapped her arm around his waist and held him. Beaten, starved and nearly dead, she'd held him like he mattered. As if he was someone. His strength in that moment flowed from her gentle nature. He cried then, too, although like today, there were no outward tears. She whispered soothing words, none he could recall, but she allowed him her strength when he had none, when he'd given up. That gift had been precious.

"What happened then?"

He glanced at the monitor. "Nothing and everything."

Chapter 5

Pilar dressed carefully and checked her makeup. The Chanel business suit, Louboutin heels, Louis Vuitton briefcase, and purse were her armor. She glanced one more time at her hair. The French twist was easy to maintain and professional, keeping the length of her curly blonde hair tamed during the workday.

The consultation with the campaign manager had morphed into a marathon meeting which included a video conference with a PR specialist, and an election expert. She sat silent while her mother orchestrated a flurry of activity with minimum word count. A surreal afternoon. Her life being molded and shaped with zero input from her. No one spoke to her. The reality her mother had put this machine into motion long ago marched itself into the meeting and sat down beside her, silently chiding her for not realizing sooner her life wasn't her own. If she hadn't been there, it wouldn't have mattered. She was a game piece to be moved as her mother saw fit. Which was the story of her life. Do what Regina says, when she tells you, and don't screw up.

She strode to the front of the manse. The butler, Henry, opened the door for her and her driver, Cody, opened the Bentley’s door. She spent less than thirty seconds in the humid Florida weather before she was ensconced in leather and comforted by air which was cooled and circulated. She leaned back in the corner of the seat and waited for Cody to trot around the front of the vehicle and get into the driver's seat.

"We aren't going to the office, Cody. Take me to the 15th Circuit Law Library."

"Yes ma'am." His professional reply, as always floated back to her.

She'd use the computers at the library to contact the man