Guarding Harm

Guarding Harm

By C.K. Carlton

Books by C.K. Carlton

Returning Harm (The Cal O’Connor Series: #4)

The Cal O’Connor Series: Season One (Books 1-3, Boxed Set)

Guarding Harm (The Cal O’Connor Series: #3)

Wandering Dagger (The Cal O’Connor Series: #2)

Saving Chase (The Cal O’Connor Series: #1)

Nice To Meet Me (A Memoir)

Guarding Harm

Copyright: C.K. Carlton 2013

Smashwords Edition

Published: November 2013

ISBN: 978-0-9890853-4-2

Publisher: Mugwump Publishing

The right of C.K. Carlton to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

For my incredible one-year-old son, Teddy, who threw up on me this morning. Happy birthday, T-Bear.

Introduction

What readers are saying about The Cal O’Connor Series:

"Absolutely hooked!"

"Great thrillers that really suck you in. I read all 3 stories in just a couple of days and I can’t wait for the next book. I also love the short format which makes for a very quick read but packs more punch than a lot of full length novels I have read."

"I love these books! Saving Chase has a great hook, backed up with rich characters and really incredible detail. Cal O'Connor is a fantastic hero; C.K. Carlton is my new favorite!"

Thanks for downloading Guarding Harm, the third book in The Cal O’Connor Series!

I want to quickly remind you to sign up for my email newsletter at http://ckcarlton.com/contact-c-k-carlton/email-list/. All you need to do is enter your email and you’ll be kept up to date on new book releases and special offers. It’ll take ten seconds. You can trust that your email will be kept confidential and never sold or shared with another party.

Also, I’d love to hear from you when you’re done with the book. My email: authorckcarlton@gmail.com.

Thanks, and I hope you enjoy Guarding Harm!

C.K. Carlton

Chapter 1

Cal O’Connor could sense his heart furiously working to shove blood through his veins as if it were an organ abandoned, seemingly desperate for some kind of cooperation from the rest of his body. The dull, thumping echo of his pulse careened around his mind as he moved closer to consciousness. Blood congregated and throbbed behind his eyes as his eyelids fluttered and then began to blink more regularly. Like a cold engine turning over, being asked to start on a winter’s day, his mind slowly gathered the energy to take inventory of his condition.

His vision, while cloudy and disjointed, was improving by the second. His hearing was muffled and distorted, but that, too, was beginning to return to normal. He was now certain that he had been drugged.

Whatever drug was administered had erased his short-term memory. He had no idea where he was. The last thing he remembered was getting dressed in his hotel suite in Santa Monica. Beyond that, nothing.

The lighting was poor, but he could identify a large glass wall roughly three feet in front of him, separating him from a large bedroom. An ultra-modern platform bed, draped in silver-colored silk sheets and a matching duvet folded at the base of the bed, was centered on the far wall. Large polished granite tiles with intricate inlays covered the floor and extended up the walls where modern light fixtures placed every five feet or so softly illuminated a mirrored ceiling.

His attention shifted to his physical state. He was positioned upright, his legs dangling below and his arms outstretched to the sides. There was a piercing pain in his jaw, which was awkwardly immobilized by an object lodged in his throat, causing saliva to collect behind the object, summoning his gag reflex. The object was held in place by a strap secured behind his pounding head. Cal exhaled violently, forcing out the pool of spit between the object and the corners of his stretched mouth. He leaned his head down and watched the saliva release and plunge toward the polished granite floor ten feet below.

His eyes immediately shifted to his feet. Each ankle was bound with rope and tied to cleats secured to the floor another three feet below. He attempted to lift his right leg, pulling intently until he could feel his right ankle begin to slide from its socket, causing him to drop his leg and release the pressure.

The activity brought a jolt of pain to his shoulders and wrists. Cal turned his head to the left to find his left wrist tied with a similar rope that ran through a pulley and then secured to a large cleat on the far wall. He instinctively pulled against the rope, unleashing a shooting pain in his left wrist as the bones and tendons stretched and moved. He looked to his right to find his right wrist identically tied to the other wall.

Cal pulled his chin tightly against his chest so he could survey what little was covering his body. A three-inch-wide black leather strap was holding the weight of his torso. It extended around his chest, wrapped underneath his armpits, and secured somewhere behind him, to another set of cleats he assumed. That strap was the only thing relieving the pressure from his wrists and shoulders, preventing him from falling further toward the floor, which would cause his wrists and shoulders to dislocate from the weight of his athletic, two-hundred-ten-pound frame. The pressure from the strap around his chest only allowed him to breathe in rapid, truncated breaths. He tried to manage a larger breath of air, but the shift in weight triggered intense pain in his shoulders.

He scanned further down to his waist. Another black leather garment, this one with silver clasps, was arranged like a harness, around his waist, under his legs, and around his buttocks, leaving his genitalia exposed.

Cal’s pulse quickened. The gravity of the situation was just beginning to take hold. Where was he and what was he about to endure?

The saliva in his mouth had collected again, causing him to begin to gag, so he exhaled forcefully once more, pushing the liquid past the object in his mouth and onto the granite floor below.

His increased anxiety caused him to breathe more heavily, which brought increased pain to his shoulders. The more he thought about his predicament, the greater volume of air his body demanded, but with an object in his mouth and only his nostrils to gather air, Cal realized that he would hyperventilate if he didn’t calm himself down. He closed his eyes and began slowly counting to ten. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four… Uncharacteristically, Cal couldn’t gain his composure. His mind was betraying him. All he could think about was the leather garment that was strapped to his midsection, presenting his privates for some unknown reason.

Was he about to be raped? It was an unbearable thought for Cal. His mind raced, again elevating the pace of his breathing, as his lungs expelled more carbon dioxide than his blood stream could afford. First, his fingers and lips started to tingle. Then, his head began to spin. Eventually, in a cycle of uncontrollable fear and anxiety, Cal’s body short-circuited, leaving him dangling unconscious once again, his head falling to the side just as the man and the young woman, dressed in identical white silk robes, entered the bedroom.

Chapter 2

Resting just to the west of Charlottesville in central Virginia, nestled in an elevated valley shadowed by spruce- and fir-covered ridgelines of the Blue Ridge mountains, was Sherando Recreation Area, or as locals and avid hikers in the area fondly referred to the outdoor wonderland, the Jewel of the Blue Ridge.

The Blue Ridge, a region of the larger Appalachian Mountain Range, was given its name because of the almost fog-like bluish haze the mountains radiate from afar, a result of the isoprene, an organic compound the trees in the area release to combat heat stress. What made Sherando special were the two pristine lakes that lay quietly beneath the mountains, perfectly reflecting a bright blue sky, adding to the natural sapphire-like spectacle.

Cal hurdled a downed tree as he barreled along the loose limestone path toward the trailhead. It was the end of an arduous seven-mile trail run with steep climbs and descents that hugged the surrounding mountains in a roller-coaster-like loop around the lakes below.

Cal reached the gravel parking lot and slowed to a walk, making his way to his early-model Land Cruiser that sat beneath a large oak tree next to the lower of the two lakes. Sweat fell in a continuous stream from the tip of his nose as he leaned over and stretched his hamstrings beside his SUV. A thirty-minute swim in the crystal blue water was next on the agenda.

He opened the passenger-side door, grabbed his goggles, and stripped down to his bike shorts before he leaned over again and pushed against his SUV, feeling the lactic acid slowly release from his pounding calf muscles.

As he pushed against the frame, enjoying the peaceful silence, Cal heard a faint chirping noise that immediately diverted his attention from the task at hand. He relaxed and stood for a moment, wondering if he had imagined the distinctive sound of his secure satellite phone’s message chime. He waited for a few seconds and then heard the chime again, a noise he hadn’t heard since returning to Richmond after his first mission nearly a month earlier.

Cal took a deep breath and positioned himself in the passenger seat, then opened the glove box to retrieve the sat phone. He looked at the screen. Two missed calls, two text messages. He clicked on the first of two text messages from the task force leader, Sherry Duran:

Cal, I trust you’re physically well. Must speak immediately.

He scrolled to the next message.

Need to move ASAP.

He rolled his eyes at the second message. Really?

Cal had only been involved with the task force for a month, most of which was spent recovering from injuries sustained on his first mission,