I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t notice Price stopping. I banged into him and pinballed into a tiny little woman wearing a scarlet coat.
“What’s your problem?” Then she took a good look at me and scurried away like her ass was on fire.
I must really look like a million bucks. Oh, right. My power had whipped me, leaving behind bloody welts. I probably looked like an extra off The Walking Dead.
In the meantime, Price had fished his wallet out of his back pocket one-handed. He let go of my hand, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. He went up to the guy at the head of the line. The barista was just handing him a giant cup.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks for that,” Price said, holding up the bill.
The guy’s eyes widened, and he held out the cup. “You got it, buddy.”
Price made the exchange and passed me the coffee. I sipped from the cup and nearly orgasmed. It was just like I liked it. Sweet and creamy with an extra pop or two of espresso. I felt the caffeine running through me. My brain sparked alive.
“I will love you forever,” I said.
Priced just grabbed my free hand and started off again. I figured we were about twenty-five blocks away from the diner. At least crossing streets was easy with the traffic barely moving.
I drank the coffee quickly, warmth flowing through me like liquid sunshine. I tossed the cup in a trashcan outside a vitamin shop.
I banged into Price again as he stopped dead. His hand clamped painfully on mine. I recovered, then someone plowed into me from behind, and I caught an elbow in my kidney, making me stagger into Price yet again. He gave about as much as a brick wall. Thank goodness I’d finished the coffee. I’d have hated to spill even one drop of the elixir of the gods.
“What’s going on?” Before I could get around to see for myself, Price wrenched his hand free. He grabbed someone, and then they were hugging.
Touray.
Price pounded on his brother’s back and Touray returned the favor. His face was bruised, his lips swollen. One of his hands held a chain with a heavy weight on it. Luckily not the one thumping Price like a drum. Apparently men, when overflowing with feeling, hit each other. Touray shoved back from Price. He spun to look at me.
“If you’ve got a null, use it now, then run. Call me and we’ll come to you.”
With that, he gripped Price’s arm and the two disappeared.
I gaped at the space where they’d been. I wasn’t the only one. Someone jostled me, and my brain kicked into gear. I started moving even as I activated the tattoo null around my belly button. I hadn’t had the strength to make any nulls these last couple of weeks, but the charge on this one was still strong.
I started burrowing through the crowds, putting as much distance as I could between me and the spot where Touray had found us. Clearly whoever had taken Touray was after him. Just as clearly, he wanted me to get away from where the null cut off my trace so they couldn’t find or follow me. Good plan.
Without Price, it was both harder and easier to speed through the throng. He didn’t plow the way open, but I was able to slide into narrow slots between people, bumping and ducking as I went. More than a few called me names, but I just kept going.
I turned corners randomly, still working in the direction of the diner. It wasn’t the smartest plan, not with Touray getting kidnapped there, but if the goons came back in search of him, they’d find Patti again, and I wasn’t going to let her face them alone.
I put on a burst of speed, knocking between a trio of friends and then vaulting over a cement planter box and into the gutter. I dodged between the cars and ran down the center line.
Almost twenty minutes later I’d only managed to get about a mile away from the place where I’d last seen Touray and Price. My phone rang in my pocket.
“Yeah?”
“Where the hell are you?” Price demanded. “When did you plan to call?”
“From the diner,” I said.
Silence. Disapproving and understanding at the same time. “We’ll meet you there.”
I didn’t bother to tell him that was a bad idea. Whoever had taken Touray in the first place would likely look for him there. But since I had no intention of not going, I couldn’t very well tell him not to go.
Since Patti had been literally tied up until maybe an hour ago, I was surprised to see that the diner was jam-packed, mostly with emergency responders and cops. Patti had a sign in the window that said their meals were free.
Touray and Price waited for me outside. Price zeroed in on me when I came around the copshop on the other side of the street—his once-upon-a-time home precinct. He strode across the street like a panther stalking its next meal. A harsh gust of wind came with him, picking up snow and swirling it into the air like dancing ghosts.
He swept me up and buried his face in my neck. He didn’t say a word.
“I’m okay.”
“You should have called. Right away.”
“I know. But one cup of caffeine only goes so far toward getting the old synapses firing right,” I said with a weak grin.
I stood back and looked over his shoulder at Touray. His eyes were like black holes, only instead of emptiness, his held a world of rage and hate.
“What happened?”
His jaw jutted, and he shook his head. “Not here.”
I looked back at Price. “I need to check on Patti.”
He nodded, and we headed back across the street. Touray fell in beside me. I felt like the meat in a lethal sandwich, which is a stupid metaphor and only goes to show how dull my wits were at that moment.
The noise of the diner wrapped us in cheerful welcome as we walked in. The glorious scents of breakfast made my stomach cramp with hunger. I did my best to ignore it as I looked around for Patti.
She bustled out of the back room carrying a tray loaded with dirty plates. “David,” she called.
A dark-haired kid—probably just scraping eighteen—leaned out one of the swinging doors leading into the kitchen.
“Bus the back. Booth eight is going to need clearing in a couple minutes.”
The kid ducked back inside and returned with a gray tub. Patti set the dishes she was carrying inside. She saw us and practically ran across the floor to pull me into a tight hug.
“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Fine. Pissed as hell.”
I glanced at my simmering companions. “You aren’t the only one.”
Patti’s gaze swept me up and down. “You look like shit. Go upstairs and get cleaned up.” Her gaze gathered in the two men. “You two can get started eating.”
Touray opened his mouth to object, and she planted her hand in the middle of his chest. “I am so not in the mood for any more shit. You will sit. You will eat. My best friend has clearly been through hell and I’m not letting her leave here hungry, thirsty, or bloody.” She glared at me. “Go.”
Touray scowled, then shook his head in defeat. Smart boy. People underestimated Patti, a fact they often ended up regretting. She’s a binder, if a relatively minor one, and she’s a black belt in three or four different martial arts. She knows how to fuck you up, and she’s willing to do it. She’s doesn’t take crap off anybody.
I headed up the back stairs to Patti’s apartment. Price followed on my heels. I glanced over my shoulder at him, but didn’t bother trying to convince him to sit and start eating. His forbidding expression said he wasn’t going anywhere I wasn’t. Patti knew better than to try to stop him either.
One of the bedrooms in Patti’s apartment is essentially mine. I keep clothes, toiletries, shoes, and other necessities there. I left Price in the living room and went to the bathroom. After turning the water on in the shower to warm it up, I started stripping. It took longer than it
should have. The wild brambles of magic had flailed through my skin as well as my hair, though oddly leaving my clothing unscathed. Unfortunately, the cloth stuck to my wounds. They hurt like hell to peel off.
Eventually I managed to get myself naked, though I felt like I’d been attacked by a horde of garden rakes. That’s when I took a good look at myself in the mirror. Christ on a cracker. The zigzagging lacerations made me look like a badly made human quilt. I scowled at myself and tried to remember the past—what? Thirty-five hours?
First there’d been Price’s out-of-control tornado at the safe house, and then we’d ridden the stolen motorcycle without a helmet, which partially accounted for the rat’s nest that was my hair. Then we’d run into Tiny’s guys, which included a conk on the head—I fingered the lump on my scalp. Then we’d gotten into it with Ocho’s gang, where I lost control of my magic. That’s where most of the blood had come from, the uncontrolled eruption engraving the long, scabbed-over lacerations on, well, mostly everything. Arms, legs, chest, back, head. I looked like I’d been in a fight with a knife-wielding octopus.
I reached behind me and shut the door. If Price saw how badly I’d lost my shit, he’d probably birth a hippo. Anyhow, it was all pretty cosmetic and didn’t even hurt that much. Yeah, and as long as I was telling myself fairy stories, I was really a princess with a castle in the Alps full of talking dishes.
I pulled the tie out of my hair, and a whimper escaped my lips when several chunks of hair came with it. What the fuck? The knife-wielding octopus had given me a bad haircut. I turned my head in the mirror. I looked like a three-year-old had gone after my hair with a pair of scissors. Of everything, that pained me the most. I liked my hair. It was thick, coppery, and long. Emphasis on was. Now I was going to have to get it all chopped off.
I sighed and swallowed the unexpected lump in my throat. It was ridiculous to cry over hair. It would grow back, and it was only hair. Pull up your big-girl panties, Riley, and get over yourself.
I dropped the hair tie and my shorn locks onto the sink, and I stepped into the shower and moaned with pleasure. I stood there for a minute just letting the heat wash over me. The memory of Touray waiting downstairs spurred me to action. I was pretty sure if I took too long he’d come haul me out by my hair. Probably the short and curlies. Which might apply to the drapes as well as the rug, once I’d finished the chop job.
I choked back a hysterical giggle. I so needed sleep.
It took two washings and a heavy coat of conditioner for my hair to feel reasonably normal, or as normal as possible after getting weed whacked by magic. Somewhere in there I remembered to deactivate my belly null. The diner and apartment had excellent nulls. I should know. I created them.
I washed the rest of myself gingerly, then reluctantly shut off the faucet. The bathroom was so full of steam I couldn’t see past the glass doors. I like a really hot shower.
I grabbed the towel I’d slung over the door rail and gingerly patted away the water on my skin before wrapping my hair in the thirsty cloth.
I slid open the shower door and stepped out. A shadow loomed in the steam, and I gave a little scream before I realized it was Price. He was leaning with his back against the bathroom door, his arms crossed, his expression somewhere between pissed off and “hey waiter, there’s a roach in my salad.”
“You gave me a heart attack,” I said, casually reaching for another towel to wrap around myself. Maybe he wouldn’t see the extent of the damage I’d done to myself.
He snatched my wrist before I could complete my plan. His gaze ran over me, and I clearly wasn’t turning him on. He tugged me around so he could see my back.
“See anything you like?” I asked, wiggling my ass. Maybe I could sidetrack him.
His finger traced just below one of the lacerations running over my right shoulder to the middle of my back. “What happened?”
His voice was conversational, like he was talking about the weather. Not good. That meant he was feeling so much he’d locked it down so he wouldn’t strangle me. At least he hadn’t started a tornado. Yet.
“We were in a fight,” I reminded him, hoping he wouldn’t ask for specifics. But Price knew when a witness wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“One of Ocho’s people did this?” He clearly didn’t believe it, but was playing along.
I really wanted to lie. I mean, really, what harm could it do? But we didn’t lie to each other. Period.
I sighed. “No.”
“Riley.” He turned me back to face him. “What. Happened?” He spaced the words, his lips thin and tight.
I shrugged. “I told you I’d tried to use my magic but couldn’t.”
I pulled out of his grip and opened the door, abandoning the idea of the towel. I headed for my bedroom. I took a pair of jeans from the dresser, along with a bra, underwear, and a tee shirt. I dragged them on, trying not to flinch as they skimmed over my wounds, then dug for a pair of socks and slid those on too. All the while, Price glowered at me from the door.
Finally I faced him, folding my arms over my chest.
“I couldn’t hold my magic. It hurts to use it. It got away from me.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, considering, his sapphire eyes drilling through me. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Eventually. You’ve got enough on your plate without me adding to it.”
He shook his head slowly. “Not how this works.”
“It’s not like you could do anything about it. It happened. I’m okay.”
“Until you try to use your power again.” He crossed the space between us, gripping my upper arms. Despite the harsh look on his face, his touch was gentle. “You can’t shut me out. I want to know if you’ve got a hangnail. I want to know if you’re hungry. Even if I can’t do a damned thing about it, you need to tell me.”
“Gotcha. Zit on my ass and you’re the first to know.”
He cracked a smile and gave me a little shake. “I’m serious.”
I sobered. “I don’t want to push you over the edge and make you lose control. You might never let me touch you again. Hell, you might decide we can’t even be in the same room at the same time again. We’ve done that for weeks and I’m so done with it.”
“I’m working on control. I’ll do better if I don’t have to worry about what you’re hiding from me. Anyhow, I’m touching you now, right?”
He ran his hands up over my shoulders and down my back, gently tugging me against him. I melted, pressing my face against his chest and sliding my arms around his waist. I hid a wince as he touched one of the lacerations. I’d suffer a hell of a lot more than that just to have him holding me again.
I looked up at him. “I’ve missed you.”
He nodded. “I’ve missed you, too.” His face darkened. “I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Sure.”
“If I get to rub my naked self all over your naked self, then you can have anything you want from me,” I said, my hands sliding down over his ass.
He sucked in a breath, his arms tightening. “Don’t tempt me. My brother is waiting for us and who knows what sort of shitstorm is about to hit.”
“Just another day in the life,” I said with a wry smile. I obediently let him go and drew away, averting my face to hide my disappointment and just a little bit of hurt. It’s not that he wasn’t right, but this was pretty much the first time he’d seemed like he actually wanted to touch me in weeks, aside from holding my hand in the truck on the way back to Diamond City. He’d withdrawn from me for good reasons. I couldn’t say they weren’t. But he seemed to be taking the loss of intimacy between us all in stride. It would have been nice if he could have at least acted like it was harder to let me go.
I sig
hed. I was being ridiculous. Sappy and stupid and totally high school irrational.
Time to get over myself. I squared my shoulders and marched over to the closet to find something warm to wear over my shirt.
I found a soft, fuzzy blue sweater on a shelf. I’d forgotten I even owned it. I pulled it over my head and turned around. I ran hard into Price. Before I knew what he was going to do, he yanked me close and began kissing me, and not a soft, sweet sort of caress, but a hungry, I-need-you-desperately sort of kiss.
I made a sound in my throat, halfway between a moan and a groan and pressed into him, my arms wrapping his neck. He slid a hand up behind my head to hold me as he impossibly deepened the kiss.
I held on, sparks whirling through me. I barely noticed the breeze that began to spin circles around us. I didn’t care. I was on fire and wanted nothing more than to strip off my clothes again and push him onto the bed and have my wicked way with him.
I don’t know how long we kissed before he tore his mouth from mine. We were both panting hard. His eyes were only a little bit cloudy. My lips felt wonderfully swollen. I made an unhappy sound.
“Gregg will come looking for us,” Price said hoarsely. His hands moved over me like he was trying to memorize every curve.
“Might be worth getting caught in the act,” I said, licking the corner of his mouth. Never let it be said that I went down without a fight. “Especially since you didn’t blow us off to Oz on your magic tornado.”
He snorted. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Just a little one.”
“Now you’re killing my confidence.”
I seductively nudged my hips against his, feeling his hard length like an iron bar in his jeans. “Somehow I doubt that.”
He kissed me again, this time hard and fast, then stepped back. “You’re nothing but trouble.”
I grinned cheekily, happiness curling through me. I waggled my brows. “Never claimed not to be.”
He backed up. “Get your shoes on. Let’s get downstairs.”
Shades of Memory Page 20