Chapter Eight

Elliot longed to touch her hair, to gently stroke her arm, to remove her pain and transfer it to his own body so she could sleep off everything that had just happened. But he was afraid to touch her, other than the hand that now gripped his like a vice, for fear that any skin contact would only amplify her misery.

She looked trapped within her own hell—her lips and eyelids drawn tight, occasionally rocking back and forth on her torso with a new wave of anguish.

"They're coming," Fin shouted from the front door, where he had stood as a lookout to guide the paramedics. When the two men lifted Olivia onto the stretcher, she cried out with the sound of a wounded child, and Elliot's heart nearly shattered. And still her hand clutched his.

He considered for a moment letting go of that hand just long enough to go beat Tucker until his skull caved in—he was pretty sure nobody would dare prosecute him for that murder. But he decided he would not let go of her—not now or ever, as long as they allowed him to hold on. As they passed Fin on the way out, though, Elliot said to him through gritted teeth, "Save him for me."

Fin nodded, and Elliot knew he understood the secret code—Elliot would have first dibs on Tucker in the interrogation room, when he was done tending to Olivia's health.

And he kept holding on to her hand—in the ambulance, where paramedics graced her with fresh blankets to replace Tucker's blood-stained sheets. They started an IV for her, calling out words over the radio like, "multiple lacerations" and "exsanguination."

And still he held her hand, while medical staff wheeled her through the ER, into the triage room. She didn't talk—not since that moment when she gave him the worst guilt-trip ever. Nurses came and go, and reassured her with their silky voices. They carefully slipped an ugly flowered hospital gown on the front of her, careful not to get anywhere near her wounds. None of them dared touch her back until the doctor came in, and Elliot was afraid that would be the end of her medical treatment once he saw her reaction.

"Ms. Benson, I'm just going to take a look—," the doctor said, just before coming up behind her and touching one strip of bleeding flesh.

Elliot had never heard such a menacing snarl come from her mouth, and she rolled away from him on her belly to her other side and threw up her hands, snarling, "Get back!"

Elliot reached over to grab her hand again, saying softly, "Liv, it's okay. They need to treat you."

"It's alright," the doctor said, softening his tone. "Olivia, we'll give you a sedative and a painkiller in your IV, and that'll help with the examination, okay?"

Liv nodded weakly, her wide eyes softening, her mouth relaxing to a slackened frown. Then she focused all her attention on Elliot's hand surrounding hers, and placed her other hand on top of it, bringing it up under her chin like a child snuggling a stuffed animal. A nurse brought in some meds and injected them into her IV line, and Elliot watched her relax until her eyes shut and her long, slender fingers loosened in his hand, her hand finally letting go.

When he was satisfied that Olivia was out cold for a while, Elliot took a cab back to the precinct. Olivia's co-workers surrounded him on his way to the interrogation room, wanting updates. He waved them off with minimal details, telling them doctors estimated she had endured up to fifty lashes, and she was stable but in serious condition. He couldn't focus on commiserating with the others right now—he had more important work to do.

At the window to the interrogation room, Fin stood watch over Tucker, who was handcuffed to the table. "Just like you said, Elliot—first dibs."

Elliot leaned in close to Fin and said, "Fin, do me a favor, just disappear for a few minutes, will ya?"

Fin rolled his eyes toward Elliot. "No way, man. I gave him to you, but you know I gotta hear this, in case the feds drop the ball."

Elliot knew Fin's stated reason was bullshit—Elliot was under no obligation to let Fin listen in. Fin just didn't trust Elliot alone with Tucker—probably wanting to keep some level of control over the beast he knew Elliot could be.

Elliot paced, trying to decide how hard to press Fin. But Fin looked solid in his decision to stay, so Elliot gave up. "Alright, but you didn't see anything."

"We'll see," Fin said as a warning, just before Elliot clutched the door handle and burst into the room.

But he wouldn't let Tucker off with a quick beating. No, he wanted to see the bastard squirm. He slid the empty chair across from Tucker out from under the table without making a sound, and sat comfortably in it, sniffling while he got situated with his hands clasped in front of him. He cleared his throat, staring at Tucker without saying a word for at least ten unbearable seconds.

Staring into Tucker's beady, intense eyes, Elliot finally spoke, his voice even. "So, you want to explain what the lieutenant formally in charge of the Special Victims Unit was doing hanging in your apartment with whip marks on her back? Or do you want to be a pussy and lawyer up?"

Tucker's lips tightened, a smirk hiding on the edges of them, and said, "She liked it rough. We played like that all the time." Now he smiled, nearly causing Elliot to jump out of his chair to knock the grin off his lips. "You can ask her—I sometimes like to choke her during . . . lovemaking, and she always comes back for more."

Unable to restrain himself anymore, Elliot lunged at Tucker, causing the asshole to jump. But the move was purely for effect, and Elliot stopped himself from crossing the table. Instead, he stood up and circled the room, moving in closer to Tucker with every loop around the table.

"So you're saying, being flogged half to death like a prisoner, by an instrument only used on farm animals, while hanging from a hook was . . . consensual? That she wanted it?"

"Oh, I don't know, you'll have to ask her that. But we had a safety word, and she didn't say it, so—"

By now, Elliot was directly behind Tucker, and the dirt-bag had too much pride to look over his shoulder at Elliot. He decided he had heard enough of the douche's accusations against Olivia, and he wrapped his arm around Tucker's neck from behind so that the man's throat rested in his elbow, and squeezed so hard he was afraid he might snap the guy's neck. Tucker squirmed violently, his face turning red and then purple, as Elliot continued choking him, his anger spilling out into his arm muscles.

"What's the safe word, huh?" he muttered into Tucker's ear.

A knock sounded at the window, but nobody burst in. Just when Elliot thought Tucker might pass out, he unhooked his elbow from Tucker's neck.

Tucker coughed and sputtered, trying to get his breath back. Then he rasped, "I'll take that lawyer now."

"What was that? I didn't hear you," Elliot said, determined to make the guy suffer even worse than Oliva had.