Voyeur Ch. 10

"Fuck!" Ray's eyes flared at the car from nowhere, suddenly blocking the road. Reacting on instinct, he hit the brakes and slightly turned the wheel, extremely conscious of the barrier standing between the road and a steep cliff.

As Ahmed hoped, Ray clipped them. Their car roughly jolted ninety degrees; Ray's car almost overturned but managed to remain upright. Smoke emitted from the roadway; the surrounding air reeked of burnt rubber as Ray's car spun.

Somewhat dazed from the impact, Ben's jaw dropped with horror, watching the Range Rover come precariously close to the barrier before coming to a steaming standstill. He glanced to his right and realised Brian was out cold.

The front door of the Range Rover flew open, and Ray quickly opened the back-passenger door.

"Hon!" he said hoarsely, urgently brushing dishevelled hair from Rachel's face. "Are you hurt?"

"I..." Rachel uttered as Ray hauled her upright and began to check for injuries. Her eyes widened with shock over Ray's shoulder and Ray turned at the same time Ben jumped on him.

Shaking his head, Ahmed was out of the car, the reassembled rifle hanging from a strap by his shoulder. Taking aim, he paused, turning in time to see Logan zoom from around the corner on Ray's bike.

Ahmed took a shot and missed, managing to leap back before Logan could run him down. The bike knocked the butt of the rifle, sending Ahmed spinning to land in a muscled heap on the ground.

Logan swerved to a stop, his eyes on Ray and Ben, viciously wrestling. Angling his head at the tangle of limbs, he stepped forward, somewhat unsettled by Ben's skilful technique.

Contemplating intervention, Logan discerned Ray's nose was bloody, but he'd gained a lethal grip on Ben's head. It was quite close, but Ray was winning.

Logan watched Ray strain toward victory. He smiled at the vicious fight to the death, feeling that wave of powerful pride through his chest, enjoying blood-sport at its best.

"Atta boy, Ray," he mused, his eyes darting to movement from the car. Rachel was unsteadily on her feet, watching the brawl, her jaw slack.

"Stop! Ray, please don't!" she begged, staggering toward them, until she saw Logan.

Logan tilted his head at her and swung his leg off the bike. Still grinning, he bent to pull the long hunting knife from the sheath attached to his calf.

Understanding, Rachel turned and ran. Logan quickly gained on her, she was exhausted and weighed down by the vest. Logan's heart swelled with triumphant excitement as he chased Rachel down. It had been a long time since he'd experienced such a delicious rush of predatory adrenaline.

Ray was about to learn a valuable lesson. He was about to learn that his big brother was always right and would always win. Logan threw himself forward to catch Rachel and they crashed to the ground together. She was limp for a moment, stunned by the impact.

"This is for contaminating my kid brother!" Logan sneered, roughly extracting the vest from Rachel's body and throwing it clear.

Before Rachel could think, Logan viciously twisted her arm behind her back, almost dislocating her shoulder and brutally shoved her down again. Unsatisfied by her limp defeat, he seized her hair and hauled her to her feet.

Ben had dealt another nasty jab to Ray's throat and managed to rise to a standing position. But it wasn't enough to free himself. Ray was also on his feet, he clenched his teeth and squeezed. Ben was strong, but not strong enough. He was starting to lose consciousness, but held on, a true fighter. It didn't matter. Very soon, Ben's neck would snap.

Ray strained harder. It wasn't over; he could salvage this. He could still take out the others, cap Logan's knees and get Rachel out of there. They could start again. It wasn't over.

Rachel shrieked, the sound carrying more agony than fear. Ray looked over.

The second he saw Logan pull Rachel up by her hair, Ray released Ben and immediately broke into a pounding run. Despite his speed, it was with slow motion he watched the knife in Logan's hand flash reflecting sunlight as his arm extended back.

Ray knew that move; knew it was a matter of seconds before the knife was buried to the hilt under Rachel's ribcage. Ray didn't waste precious energy shouting; Logan would ignore him. Ray invested all effort into his run. Ahmed was right behind him.

Without breaking stride, Ray intercepted the weapon, barrelled into Logan and used the momentum to break Logan's grip on Rachel. The knife swung and missed Rachel's abdomen by centimetres. Ray forcefully drove forward, spending the last of his strength to stop his brother the only way he knew how.

"YOU'RE FUCKING CRAZY!" Logan screamed as they ploughed over the barrier together.

Held upright by a stranger, Rachel moaned, her body filled with aching pain. She heard a thud; a number of sickening cracks as the brothers tumbled together down the jagged cliff-face and into the water with a faint splash. She unsteadily tried to gain footing, and immediately collapsed with a cry.

"Be still, stop moving." The stranger gently lowered her to the ground and sharply tied a cloth around her upper arm where the knife nicked her.

"I don't want to go," Rachel dizzily whispered, suspecting she was in the arms of Ray's pilot.

"Press down, hard," Ahmed instructed, positioning Rachel's hand over the wound. Then he ran to the cliff's edge and dropped to one knee where the barrier had caved. In a swift movement he jerked his shoulder and the rifle fell into his hands. He aimed for two short seconds, then fired.

Rachel's body was overcome with adrenaline, fear and pain. Staring at Ahmed, she watched in a daze as he keenly peered through the scope of the weapon. Rachel's vision began to fade. Tired relief washed over her, she closed her eyes and the world drifted further. Somehow, she knew Ben was holding her.

Home.

Rachel's eyes fluttered open, and she shifted in the bed. The room was vaguely familiar, but not in a threatening way.

"Mm." She frowned, pressing her palms to her forehead.

"Hey, girl."

Rachel jerked upright, wincing when her shoulder twinged. "Brian!"

"Yeah," he grinned, leaving his chair to sit on the bed as she reached for him. For a long minute they hugged. "You alright?"

Rachel shook her head against his shoulder.

"You will be." Brian eased free of her grip and pinched her cheek. "I told you to stay out of trouble. You kids never listen."

Rachel managed a weak laugh. "Where are we?"

"My house."

"I don't understand..."

"It's better you don't. There's a riled-up punk outside. I insisted on seeing you first, since we're on my turf. It almost came to fisticuffs."

Rachel gasped fearfully. "Y-You mean...Ben? He's here?"

"Where else would he be?"

Rachel's eyes were suddenly brimming with tears.

Brian took her hand. "He's here for you."

"I can't see him!"

"Why not?"

"You don't...I can't..." Rachel faltered, unable to explain.

Brian pursed his lips, shrewdly watching her inner conflict.

"You're worried about the footage?" he asked bluntly, gently tilting his head at Rachel's immediate alarm. "Ahmed was thorough. The recordings are destroyed. Ben never saw them, and he doesn't have to know."

"But-"

"Trust me, it's nothing. I've seen people do a lot worse to survive, you have no idea." Brian sighed deeply. "Fortunately, Ray was a true professional so there was little for Ahmed to clean up. Ray didn't keep trophies. Well, except you."

Brian nodded on an afterthought. "You're in good hands, girl. Ahmed was very impressed with Ben. Said he handled better than most of his proteges. Though apparently, he could do with some weapons training," he chuckled at a private joke.

"I can't. I can't face him," Rachel stubbornly mumbled, toying with Brian's hand.

"I don't think you have a choice," Brian said dryly. "Once he realises you're awake, he'll break down the door." He sighed. "Before that happens, do you have any burning questions for me?"

"Do I have to tell the police what happened?"

"No. I'll settle it as a misunderstanding. But you'll have to give proof of life before they'll back off. I'll help you prepare for their questions. It will be brief, but unpleasant. Cops don't like being dicked around."

"Does that mean...? Is Ray dead?"

"Most likely," Brian said slowly. "Logan certainly is. I have to admit I couldn't believe Ray took out his own brother. That's not something I ever expected, and I've seen a lot of things." Biting his lip with a frown, he remembered what he'd been meaning to say.

"Without a body, Rachel, you need to know there's a possibility Ray survived. That he might come back. I believe it pays better to prepare for the worst, than hope for the best." He gently laid a silver bracelet onto the bed.

"This is entirely up to you, and your ideas of privacy. There's a tracker in it that leaves a clear signal, and the trinket is damn near indestructible. But if you're not comfortable..." he trailed off, watching Rachel immediately link it around her wrist.

"Thank you, Brian. If it weren't for you-"

"Shucks," he shrugged off her gratitude, still feeling responsible for her predicament to begin with. "You're like a daughter to me. Hell, I wish you were." He pulled a face, remembering Marcus. "I don't expect you to forgive Marcus. But he's genuinely sorry, and he did what he could to make up for it."

"H-He was there?" she said blankly, feeling even more overwhelmed by this new information.

"Yeah. Took a badass shot to the forehead, but the bullet nicked the metal plate in his head. That little shit has more lives than a cat."

Rachel awkwardly swallowed.

"I can't fucking wait to call him 'Harry Potter'," Brian snidely added, before remembering he had something important to say.

"So..." he stared down at his thumbs. "The cut will heal in no time. But you had a mild fever, so we had your bloods done while you were out, in case that bastard poisoned you. My guy is thorough. I have a feeling you know what I'm about to say."

Rachel flushed; her hands clenched into the blanket.

"It was never my intention to pry. But the doc insisted on an ultrasound, so you should know everything there appears fine," Brian said discreetly. "It's too far along to be Ray's. But as things progress, you'll need to do checks. That is, if you're going to keep it?"

Eyes shamefully downcast, Rachel nodded, thankful Ray religiously used condoms.

"Congratulations." Brian stood from the bed. "Text me sometime and we'll have coffee. Anyway, guess I'd better-"

"Do you have to go right now?" Rachel pleaded, looking desperately anxious.

Brian smiled sympathetically. "You can't avoid him forever. Or for much longer, I should say," he finished with exasperation, turning to find Ben staring around the door's edge.

Their eyes met for only a second before Rachel quickly looked down, feeling her heart ache, her cheeks brighten with a familiar blush. It was so good to see him, even if it was painfully unsettling. He was a pleasure to her eyes from the beginning, which only developed as they spent more time together. It seemed the schoolgirl crush she always had on Ben, even before they knew each other, was stronger than ever.

Brian comfortingly petted her hair, then left and closed the door behind him.

Rachel heard Ben's movement and looked up in time to meet his shoulder as he pulled her into a crushing hug. Just touching him brought back everything she'd missed, and feelings she never thought she'd experience again.

Like a storming ocean, Rachel's emotions heaved then crashed with all the things she wanted to say but couldn't give voice to. Her body shook with silent sobs, and Ben's arms tightened around her.

"Rae," he murmured against her neck, his hand moved soothingly up and down her shoulder. "It's over. I've got you."

Eventually Ben's hand searched for her face, and he cupped her cheek so he could guide her to look at him. Feeling very uneasy, Rachel forced her eyes open.

Ben's dark hair was slightly longer, and his normally clean-shaven face was shadowed with stubble. But his dark eyes were the same, possibly wilder and more intense than before. Though they slightly glittered with unshed tears, the passionate glint was strikingly familiar. Ben didn't have to say anything - Rachel knew he felt the same about her. He also seemed to struggle with words but pulled himself together with a heavy sigh.

"I'm taking you home," he said hoarsely, pressing a hard kiss to her forehead. "I know I look like a mugshot. I'm so fucking happy. I'm so relieved." He drew back, scrutinising her uncertainty. "You're all I care about. Understand?"

Oh, God. Does he know? Rachel paused a heartbeat before nodding.

"Good." Ben abruptly began to gather her things that Ahmed retrieved from Ray's house; his face twisted with disgust. "I'm gonna burn everything in here that you let me."

Catching a glimpse of the anger on his face, Rachel could see he was deeply emotional, and fighting to control it.

Neither wanted to acknowledge there were issues to resolve.

Ben quietly brainstormed how to nurse Rachel through a recovery period without coming across as needy himself. But he fucking needed her, that much was clear in her absence. He was afraid to let her out of his sight, and he couldn't imagine that changing in the next decade.

Rachel's predicament was more complex. She couldn't continue with Ben after what happened with Ray. Her conscience was unwaveringly unforgiving, and she had already written off the relationship as irreparable. She had to extract herself before he found out about her condition.

It was pure selfishness, but she couldn't bear to immediately sever ties. She needed him now.

****

The next few days were a blur of official business for Rachel; glowering detectives, puzzled colleagues and her parent's fussing. At least they finally met Ben, though that possibly made the situation worse, even if it was heart-warming in the moment.

They had to break up, and soon. It was only a matter of time before Ben discovered her secret. The fluctuating hunger and nausea she experienced in Ray's house continued after her rescue. Whist Ben was easily convinced it was just lingering trauma, Rachel knew he wondered about her refusal to consume anything alcoholic. Soon enough it would all click.

Of course, Ben respected her wishes not to be intimate. He often touched her innocently, holding her hand, brushing hair from her neck. It was as though he tested her limits, always touching and quickly retreating. Then returning for more. If he got too close, she withdrew.

After yet another quiet dinner, Ben tidied the kitchen and left Rachel with an untouched glass of wine. She never drank it, but he poured it anyway. It was like a traditional offering, encouraging her to resume how things were. One day, he hoped, she would lift the glass and sniff it with a smile, the way she used to.

Rachel's eyes were fixed on the glass, her mind elsewhere. She was so quiet since coming back. It wasn't her shy quietness, it was different. Ben hated it.

"I'll put some music on," he said lightly. "Any requests?"

"Anything but jazz."

Ben paused for a heartbeat. "No problem, I hate jazz."

"Me, too." Rachel winced with annoyance, wishing she didn't react so quickly. She knew Ben was curious about what happened, and she didn't want to give him anything to speculate about.

As Rachel predicted, it was very difficult for Ben to walk away from her statement. But he did, forcing himself to connect his phone to Bluetooth. Shortly after, his favourite rotation of 80's tunes began to play.

Returning to the kitchen, Ben glanced her way, noticing how pale and tight her face was. He turned his back and concentrated on soaking the pots in steaming water. The kitchen was hot after hours of slow cooking. Ben didn't bother with aircon. He ripped his shirt off and carelessly discarded it.

Drawn like a magnet, Rachel's eyes darted to Ben's bare skin. His tall back was to her; strong, smooth, muscled. A pleasurable tingle warmed her body. She wanted to touch him.

In an unexpected move, Ben abruptly turned and stared right at her. They held gaze, his challenging, hers stunned. Rachel came to her senses and looked away. But it was too late.

"Gotcha," Ben said, his tone darkly triumphant. It was the first word he'd ever said to her, and it triggered sexual feelings for both of them.

Rachel didn't dare look again, but it didn't matter. Ben had caught her ogling. It was obvious she wanted him, and now he knew something was up.

Staring at her hands on the table, Rachel watched one of Ben's curl around her wrist, his thumb stroking the silver bracelet.

"Come on," he said softly, the comforting heat of him up against her. "It's time to talk."

"I don't want to," she mumbled.

But she did want to. She wanted to tell him things she could never voice now that everything was ruined. She wanted to beg his forgiveness. She wanted him to talk to her, tell her things like he did before. But more than that, she wanted to touch him.

"You're not being straight with me, Rae," Ben murmured. "We need to talk." His shirt was back on, as though to appear less threatening. He stood behind her, his arms on either side, his mouth by her temple. Rachel shivered responsively.

In a daze, she let Ben lead her to the couch. She sat beside him, slightly squirming with discomfort. Ben's eyes were on her face, with the effect of a heat lamp. She could feel her face warming under his scrutiny.

"I am going to ask you questions, and I expect complete honesty. If you don't want to answer, that is fine, but I don't want lies. Understand?"

Rachel nodded, expecting him to accusingly fire away about Ray, ask her questions she couldn't answer, perfectly aware a lack of answer would be an answer in itself. She didn't have it in her to lie to him, anyway.

"Did that guy hurt you?"

Rachel shook her head with an awkward shrug. She wasn't sure how to measure 'hurt', but she didn't want Ben to think she had been brutally tortured, either.

Ben's jaw clenched. "He raped you, didn't he?"

It was more a statement than a question, but it made Rachel feel sick. There was an uncomfortable moment earlier in the day, when she made a wry joke about having to tell her colleague, Meredith, the truth about what happened since they were rather close.

Ben asked straight up whether Rachel would tell Meredith anything he didn't know. It was clear he referred to the sordid little details of captivity that Rachel never talked about. She couldn't quite answer him.

"He didn't hurt me," Rachel numbly clarified, her heart thudding with nervous anticipation. This was the part where it came to the crux of why they couldn't stay together. She had already assembled his response in her mind: How could he possibly rape you without hurting you, unless you let him?

Ben took a deep breath. "Do you want to be with me?"

Rachel looked up from her hands with mild surprise. The first thought was very affirmative, but then she remembered her painful resolve. It was either 'yes, but...' or 'no, because...'

"I don't know," she answered, taking the coward's route.

Ben's face was tight but impassive. He seemed neither happy nor upset by her answer. "Do you still find me attractive?"

Rachel cringed. He had her there. "Yes."

"Will you let me touch you, intimately?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." I don't deserve it.

"Will you touch me, intimately?"

"No." I don't deserve you.

Ben bit his lip as though working to solve a riddle. He wanted to get the truth out of her without asking questions that might make things worse. But she wasn't recovering, she was becoming increasingly aloof, and he couldn't take it anymore.