Wicked Intentions

by Linda Verji

  Alim, charging hard, hurtled into the elevator. His revolver swept the elevator in wide arcs, peppering it with bullets but he hadn’t counted on Nathan going low. The would-be-deadly shots whizzed harmlessly over Nathan and Shakira’s heads, ricocheting in the elevator and lodging into the wall.

  Nathan fired his first shot.

  It rocketed straight for Alim and embedded itself in his firing shoulder. The criminal stumbled backwards with the force of the bullet but didn’t drop his revolver. His grip only slightly slackened and his hand fell. He turned towards Nathan and Shakira, his eyes boring into them.

  Despite the ridiculous clothes and wig, Alim’s eyes were enough to dispel any mirth and send icicles of fear down anyone’s spine. The pain he had to be feeling was absent in their expressionless, amber fluid depths as was any other feeling. Even with the man injured, Nathan felt like a kid throwing pebbles at a rabid dog.

  Alim’s arm rose again as he pointed the barrel of his gun towards Nathan.

  Nathan fired again.

  This time he pumped a single shot between Alim’s eyes and with that Alim’s long career as an exceedingly adept criminal came to a decisive end. His head jolted backward from the bullet’s impact and he fell on his knees as his eyes glazed over as the life drained out of them. Blood gushed out from the wound between his eyes staining his face red. Suddenly he was keeling forward.

  His body fell towards Nathan’s.

  Nathan had only a split second to move out of the way before Alim fell to the floor face first - right in front of Shakira. She stared at Alim’s prone body with eyes wide with shock.

  “We’re okay, baby.” With an unsteady hand he reached for her, pulling her away from Alim and towards him. “We’re okay.”

  She crawled towards him and buried her head in his neck as her arms wound their way around his waist. The feel of her, soft and warm and alive caused him to groan in tortured relief. His hands raked over her body hungrily as he reassured himself that they were both okay.

  The adrenalin and fear faded away as they held each other, leaving Nathan feeling depleted and weak. He was covered in blood. He could feel it on the right side of his face along with a stinging pain that only worsened. But he still held on to Shakira afraid that if he let go someone else would try to tear her away from him.

  Hotel security found them like that a few minutes later.

  “Stop,” Nathan growled when the hotel medic kept cackling, cooing and hovering over him. “It’s just a graze.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Shakira ordered, worrying her lip and rubbing his shoulder. “If it’s just a graze he wouldn’t be bleeding so much.”

  They were seated in one of the empty rooms close to the scene of attack. They could hear the commotion in the hallway as the hotel tried to deal with the repercussions of having a dead body on their premises. The strident tones and milling movements of curious guests wafted into the room through the half open door.

  “Don’t fucking touch me!” Nathan shoved the medic’s hand away.

  “Stop cussing at the doctor,” Shakira retorted slapping his hand down and allowing the medic to press the warm compress on Nathan’s face.

  Nathan was aware that he was being unreasonable but he didn’t care. He was in serious pain, feeling woozy and he was angry. No – he was about to flip his lid and knock someone the fuck out. How the hell had Alim managed to make it past security and to their floor? They were probably all in cahoots with Wayne and he wanted to get Shakira the hell out of here.

  His anger and pain were amplified by the wired nervousness of having death on his hands. It was just now hitting him that he’d taken a life. He’d never used his gun on anything but cans and the targets on the firing range. Whenever he’d hit a target then, it was followed by the swift elation of victory. But now all he could feel was an aching hollowness clawing at his belly. He’d killed another human being. The knowledge knotted itself into thick waves of guilt. Not even convincing himself that Alim deserved it, had been trying to kill them and was barely human could unknot his remorse.

  I killed a man.

  He didn’t realize he’d said the words aloud until Shakira’s lips brushed against his. “You had to.”Her palm clasped the hard nape of his neck, her breath puffing against his ear as she repeated, “You had to.”

  Unable to manage any words, Nathan turned his face and buried it into her shoulder. His head protested violently at the movement, and teetered drunkenly blurring his vision. Her fingers sliding gently through his hair somewhat eased the pain, and she murmured something soft and indistinguishable.

  “The police are here,” Randall called out from the doorway drawing Nathan’s attention. The PI had appeared a few minutes before the cops. Apparently he’s been outside the hotel on Edya’s orders. Pissed off that he’d missed Alim because of the disguise, he was determined to make up for the lapse by keeping guard over Nathan and Shakira.

  “Okay.” Reluctantly, Nathan pulled away from Shakira, steeling his shoulders in preparation to answer questions.

  The police didn’t keep them for too long especially because the paramedics arrived just a few minutes after and insisted that Nathan had to be taken to the hospital. Anymore questioning could be done there. Fortunately the hotel also had footage of everything that had happened in the hallway and the elevator.

  At first Nathan refused to ride the ambulance but when his legs buckled right under him, the paramedics had been forced to strap him onto a stretcher. Shakira rode the ambulance with him afraid that if she left he’d disappear. He could have died today. The blood on his face had scared eight lives out of her and it was only by sheer will that she’d kept from shrieking at the top of her lungs.

  He could’ve died because of her.

  Edya had been right she was a danger to him.

  And with Gates and Wayne still out there, the danger was still alive and present. She wanted nothing more than to ask the ambulance driver to stop and just leave her on the side of the road so she could walk away from Nathan. She loved him so much that it ached to think of living without him in her life but surely it would ache more if he died.

  “I love you,” she said her voice thick with tears as she smoothed her palm over his pale and clammy brow. It was the least he deserved after literally taking a bullet for her.

  “I love you too.” His voice was a mere mumble thanks to the pain meds they’d pumped into him. Drowsily he asked, “Have you called Karyn?”

  Shakira nodded. “She’s meeting us at the hospital.”

  “Gates?” he asked thickly.

  “Randall’s behind us watching for him.”

  “Ma’am, he needs to relax,” the paramedic warned.

  “Relax, baby. Everything’s going to be fine.” Shakira soothed him with her hand. Nathan’s eyes drifted closed as the meds kicked in.

  Apparently Randall was still in contact with Edya because as soon as they got to hospital, Nathan was received by the hospital’s top doctors and whisked to private rooms for specialized care. Shakira followed, feeling helpless because there was nothing she could do but sit and wait. Randall kept her company in the waiting room but did not say anything.

  She could understand the awkwardness. Theirs was an odd relationship; a cross between stalker-stalked and protector-protected. But Shakira felt obliged to break the ice between them. “Thanks.”

  He lowered the magazine he’d hidden his face behind. Extracting the blade of grass from his teeth and turning keen eyes to her, he asked, “For what?”

  “The other night you helped me out,” she clarified. “Thanks.”

  Randall shrugged, reinserted his grass, and went back to his magazine.

  Compelled to ease some of her own tension with conversation and maybe even find out a little bit about the mysterious man, Shakira asked, “Do you do this a lot?”

  He didn’t even lower his magazine this time. “Do what?”

  “You know…” She wanted to stay stalking but caught he
rself just in time and finished, “…the investigating.”

  Randall shrugged.

  Well, she tried.

  When Karyn finally showed up, Shakira almost hugged her in relief but contented herself with standing up and a “Hello.”

  “Are you okay?” the lady agent’s tone was concerned and she herself drew Shakira in for an embrace. “Is Nathan okay?”

  Randall lowered his magazine to watch them with curiosity as Shakira waved in the general direction of the private room. “They’re just checking him out. I hope he is.”

  “He will be. He will be.” Karyn clucked consolingly. Drawing Shakira back to the couch and settling next to her, she asked, “What was Kuthra Alim doing shooting at you?”

  Shakira sighed. “It’s a long story. Charlie-”

  “I’m sorry,” Agent Karyn interrupted, only then noticing Randall’s bated interest. Her voice was sharp as she said, “Can we get some privacy?”

  “No, he’s with me.” Shakira rushed to defend Randall.

  “It’s no problem.” Randall stood up. “I’m just going to get myself a coffee while you talk.”

  “How do you know Alim?” Karyn asked drawing Shakira’s attention once Randall was gone.

  “Okay, so you know about Charlie…” In succinct details, Shakira briefed the agent on everything that had gone on from Charlie’s death and Alim following her. Karyn listened attentively without speaking. Her attention perked up when Shakira mentioned their find on the thumb-drive, Wayne’s involvement and Alim’s attack on the elevator.

  Casting wide eyes at Shakira and scooting closer, Karyn asked, “So where’s this thumb-drive.”

  Shakira reached into her jacket pocket to pull it out and came out empty. Her brow crinkled as she said, “I could’ve sworn I put it in here.”

  “Think. Think,” Karyn hurried her. “Where is it?”

  Brow furrowing in thought, Shakira said, “Maybe I put it in our bags?”

  A twitch of impatience pulled on the red-head’s mouth. “I already checked your bags for it.”

  Shakira started to pat her pockets again when her mind suddenly screeched into a screaming halt. Wait a minute! How could Karyn have searched their bags when she’d only learned of its existence right now? She couldn’t have unless…

  Shakira turned startled eyes to Karyn whose face contorted in recognition of the information she’d just revealed. Shakira opened her mouth to scream just as Karyn pressed the barrel of her gun to Shakira’s waist.

  Karyn’s tone turned ugly. “Don’t even think about it.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Karyn’s voice cold and clear as she ordered, “Stand up slowly.”

  This was happening.

  This was really happening.

  Shakira’s heart was thumping so hard she was afraid it was going to jump out of her body and scream bloody murder. She couldn’t believe that there was a gun digging into her stomach in a public place and no one had noticed. She scanned the waiting room desperately hoping someone would see what was going on. No one did. The couple, seated at the far end of the corner, was deep in conversation and the nurse manning the desk had her head bowed and her concentration on the computer. Unless she screamed, there was no hope of attracting attention.

  And a scream meant an automatic hole in her kidneys.

  “We’re in a public place.” Shakira tried to fake bravado but the slight shake in her voice betrayed her. “You’re not going to shoot me here.”

  “Try me.” The barrel of the gun dug harder into Shakira’s flesh. “Move. Now.”

  The sharp threat in the agent’s voice was enough to make Shakira jerk to a stand and Karyn followed suit. The pressure from the barrel briefly eased but it was only so the other woman could tuck the gun underneath her leather jacket and out of sight. Soon it was back digging into her side. Despite the leather and Shakira’s own jacket acting as barriers, Shakira could still feel the weapon as if it was touching her naked skin.

  “Stairs.” Karyn snaked an arm tightly around Shakira’s waist and ushered her towards the white door. Though icy fear and panic had replaced the blood in her veins, Shakira forced herself to walk normally. Something told her that Karyn wouldn’t forgive so much as a stumble.

  Where the hell is Randall? Shakira had never prayed so desperately for the man to still be stalking her. She glanced frantically about the hallway as Karyn walked her to the stairs but he was nowhere to be seen. A doctor passed a hair’s breath from them but only offered them a comforting smile. With the way Karyn was holding Shakira, he probably thought they’d just received some bad news. Karyn returned his smile with her own grateful one.

  The fraud.

  Shakira couldn’t believe how easily she and Nathan had fallen for the agent’s bad-cop-good-cop routine. She furiously searched her mind for a way to escape her captor but as if the red-head could hear her every thought, her hold on Shakira’s waist tightened and the gun dug harder into her side.

  “Open it,” Karyn said sharply as she gestured with her head towards the white metallic door.

  Last chance. The urgent thought swept through Shakira. She’d read somewhere that if accosted by a kidnapper never to agree to leave with them. There was no telling what Karyn would do if she had privacy. Kill her? Probably. At least if she got shot in the hospital, she could be rushed to the intensive care unit.

  “They won’t be able to save you,” Karyn whispered harshly in Shakira’s ear. “I’ll pump one here...” She dug the gun deeper. “…and then the other in your head and say you resisted arrest. They’ll believe me.”

  They would. Shakira realized. With her history in crime and Karyn’s being an FBI agent, they would.

  “Open the door,” Karyn repeated.

  This time Shakira reached a sweaty palm towards the doorknob and turned it. The stairwell was well-lit, but that was the only good thing about it. It was deserted and eerily silent – the perfect place to get killed. The moment the door closed behind them, Karyn stepped behind Shakira, this time not even bothering to hide the gun.

  “Please,” Shakira pleaded prepared to beg for her life if it meant licking Karyn’s boots. “You don’t need to do this.”

  “No yapping.” Karyn brought the down her gun on Shakira’s shoulder with her words. Shakira grunted through clenched teeth as sharp pain exploded on that side of her body. She hunched slightly forward to ease the force of the blow but kept moving. In silence, the women rapidly descended the two flights of stairs. The door at the bottom opened up to the hospital’s ground floor.

  It was a mess.

  Paramedics yelled out for help with the patients they sailed in on stretchers. Nurses checked in patients and tried to calm their worried family members. The doctor’s were intent on responding to the numerous people who kept begging for their attention. The patients were busy dealing with their own wounds and sickness.

  If no one had noticed anything odd in Shakira and Karyn’s behaviors upstairs – they definitely wouldn’t here. Pushing their way through the occupied throng and out of the hospital was ridiculously easy.

  Shakira tripped slightly on the cobbled path that led to the parking lot but Karyn was there to yank her to her feet and press the gun warningly to her side.

  When they got to Karyn’s truck which was parked near to the entrance, Karyn ordered, “Back.”

  For the first time, Shakira felt a little hope. If she was going to be in the back and Karyn in the front, she could knock her out from the back. Stupid Karyn. She mentally smiled. She could actually get away.

  Shakira opened the door eagerly, already lifting her leg to scramble into the car when she felt something hard smash into the back of her head. The shock of whatever had hit her resounded through her head in excruciating pain, her vision blurred and she crumpled into unconsciousness.

  Nathan climbed out of his medicated-sleep feeling well-rested and pain-free. His temple was oddly numb rather than throbbing – a vast difference from when they’d wheeled
him into the hospital. Dainty fingers squeezed on his and expecting to see Shakira, his lips widened in a smile as his eyes fluttered open only to find his mother leaning over him.

  Instead of her usual calm dignity, Edya seemed anxious a few skeins of her black hair had escaped the usually immaculate coil at the back of her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” Nathan fingered the bandage plastered to his right temple as he turned his head to scan the large room. “Where’s Shakira?”

  “I told you to leave that girl alone,” Edya clucked disapprovingly. “Did I not tell you she was trouble and she was going to get you killed?”

  Nathan was in no mood to listen to his mother’s lectures. Nodding his head impatiently he said, “Yes, Mother. You told me.” He asked again, “Where is she?”

  There was a moment of heavy silence that charged his nerves with immediate anxiety. In his consternation, he barked the question again in a loud voice, “Where is she?”

  His mother jumped slightly and prompted to answer, she shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I just got here.”

  Nathan sat up on the bed. His head and stomach reeled slightly with the movement but didn’t tip over. His mind however was leaping, galloping and doing cartwheels in a bid to figure out where Shakira could be. He knew Shakira well enough to know that she would be in here if the doctors had given her permission. He couldn’t put it past Edya to pull some strings to make sure that didn’t happen.

  He narrowed his eyes. And Edya caught them.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” His mother read his thoughts correctly. “If she isn’t here, it’s because she doesn’t want to be not because of anything I did.”

  Considering their history, he didn’t believe Edya. He started to swing his legs to the side of the bed but his mother stopped him with a, “You can ask Randall.”

  Randall was here? And Shakira wasn’t?

  Nathan’s face turned as white as a skull. Anything could’ve happened to her. Gates! Someone else Wayne had sent. Nathan swung his legs to the side of hospital bed.