Standing in the Shadows m&f-2

by Shannon McKenna

  "My head." Erin tried to lift her hand up to her head, but her arm was made of lead. Connor's long, gentle fingers slid into her hair and explored. She hissed in pain.

  "You've got a bump, but it didn't break the skin," he said. "We'll have it checked out."

  "Novak?" she asked.

  He jerked his chin to the left of them. She glanced, and looked quickly away from the still, blood-drenched thing next to them. Her gorge rose. She squeezed her eyes shut. "He's really dead this time?"

  "Very dead," Tamara said. "Thanks to you."

  She looked up, startled. Tamara was crouched next to her. "Me?"

  "You took him out with the neck wound." Her approval was clear. "It would have taken a minute, but it was a sure thing. You hit an artery, girl. Blood's all over the wall. Looks like a slaughterhouse in here."

  Erin closed her eyes before she could see the gore-spattered walls. "I heard all those gunshots," she said.

  "We were just making dead sure," Tamara said. "Connor said you were an Amazon. He was right. I'm impressed." Tamara was pressing hard on her upper arm, her fingers wet with blood.

  "You're wounded," Connor said to her. "Let me see."

  "Tonia grazed me," she said. "The bitch always did have lousy aim. No big deal. I've taken worse than this and then gone out dancing."

  The world widened into vast, echoing emptiness again. Erin heard their voices, but she could not take in what they were saying. Connor's hand was warm against her face. "Erin? Babe? Anybody home?"

  "I'm not dead," was all that came out. What she wanted to say was too complicated, a million desperate things all struggling for precedence. "I'm not dead," she repeated stupidly.

  "No, you're not, sweetheart. Thank God."

  Connor's head dropped onto her blood-soaked shoulder. She smelled his warm, tangled hair against her face. He loved her, but he couldn't follow her to that frozen wasteland. No one could. She didn't know the way back to where he waited, warm and gentle, and needing something from her that she was too destroyed to give.

  "It's all chaos," she whispered. "That's it. That's all there ever was. Anything else is just a lie. Just a mask."

  Connor smoothed her hair back, frowning. "I think you've got a concussion, baby."

  "I think she's telling you something important," Tamara said. She tilted Erin's chin up gently with a blood-streaked hand. "You know what? You've got the makings of an excellent professional bad girl."

  That was so bizarre, it actually penetrated the haze and pulled her back to the room. She focused on Tamara, blinking. "Really?"

  Tamara smiled. "Sure. You've got all the prerequisites. The looks, the brains, the nerve, the flexible attitude. You need a little help with the style, but that's no biggie."

  Connor pulled her back against the warmth of his chest. "That's very kind of you, but it's not her scene."

  "Let Erin speak for herself," Tamara mocked. "Today's a big day. Her first kill. It's all chaos, right? I've known that all along, you see. It's made me what I am today."

  Connor's body was rigid. "Hey. Forget it. Erin isn't a—"

  "I owe you one, beautiful," Tamara told her. "If you ever need help with something scary, leave me a message at the Honey Pot sex toy shop down in Pioneer Square. Scary things are my specialty."

  "Scary like this?" Connor asked harshly. "Jesus. That's kinky."

  "This situation was pretty much my outer limit," she admitted. "I plan to be very mellow for a while. Unless Erin needs me, of course."

  Connor's arms tightened jealously. "Thanks, but I can help her with anything scary that comes up."

  Tamara stroked Erin's cheek with a long red fingernail. There was a guttering silver lightning bolt appliquéd onto it. "Men may come and men may go, but sisters look out for each other," she murmured.

  Erin let out a bitter laugh. "Like Tonia?"

  Tamara dismissed Tonia with a flick of her bloodstained hand. "Tonia is trash," she said. "What you lost in her, you gained in me… and then some." She leaned forward and kissed Erin's mouth. Her lips were soft and lingering. "Keep that in mind, girlfriend."

  Connor made a rumbling sound in his chest. "Hey. I appreciate your help, and this eternal sisterhood stuff is touching, but it's been a tough day. You can stop fucking with my head anytime now. Anytime."

  Tamara laughed in his face and poked him with her lightning bolt fingernail. "Toughen up, McCloud," she said. "You're such an easy mark." She rose and hiked up her skirt to holster her gun. "This place is going to be full of cops in a while, so I'll just be on my way. Cops make me itch. Except for you, of course, big boy."

  "I'm not a cop anymore," he said.

  Tamara's eyebrows lifted. "Once a cop, always a cop. I'm out of here." She smiled at Erin. "Ciao, beautiful. It's been intense."

  "Any other goons to worry about?" Connor demanded.

  She shook her head. "He was keeping a very low profile. The only ones in the house were Silvio and Nigel. They probably bolted when they heard the gunshots. The rest are scattered around the city. They'll evaporate soon." She dug her toe into Tonia's buttock as she passed. "Stop sniveling, you stupid cow. You won't bleed to death. Apply direct pressure with the heel of your hand and shut up."

  "Tamara?" Erin called.

  Tamara turned at the door.

  "Thank you," Erin said. "I owe you one, too. You know how to find me if you need me."

  Tamara's brilliant smile flashed. "Till later, then."

  She vanished into the dark. The two of them huddled together in the dim room between two blood-soaked corpses. Tonia's miserable whimpering grated on her raw nerves. Connor was saying something. Repeating it. She wrenched her mind into focus.

  "… still got that cell phone on you someplace, sweetheart?"

  "In my purse." Her teeth chattered. "Around here somewhere."

  "I'll find it," he said.

  She started to shiver uncontrollably when he took his warmth away to search for it. She heard his voice, getting further and further away. "Hey. Nick. It's me… yeah. Shut up and let me talk. I need an ambulance. I've got Novak and Luksch… come see for yourself. They're dead. You can ID them at your leisure, and then you can arrest me, if you still want to. There's a woman down with a gunshot wound to the thigh, one of Novak's… hell, I don't know. I was unconscious when they brought me here. Hold on." He crouched down in front of Erin, and patted her face. "Baby, what's the address of this place?"

  She gasped it out through chattering teeth. Connor repeated it to Nick. "Hurry," he said into the phone. "Erin's going into shock."

  He tossed the phone aside and peeled off her blood-drenched blouse. He took off his own shirt, wrapped her in it, and pulled her onto his lap, hunching his warm body around hers.

  She felt the fear in his fierce, tight embrace. Part of her longed to comfort him, to tell him how sorry she was for not believing him. How grateful that he'd come to save her anyway, against all hope. He was heroic and beautiful, and she loved him.

  She couldn't say it She was shaking apart. She vibrated in his arms, teeth rattling. All the horrors that could have happened coexisted in her mind, an explosion of dreadful time lines radiating out from one crushing blow like the cracks in a shattered windshield.

  Something inside her was screaming, and could not stop.

  That was how Connor's two brothers and his friend Seth found them. They glided like silent shadows into the room and looked around, speechless at the carnage. They pried Connor's arms away from her and draped her in a man's leather jacket, still radiating heat. Connor pulled her into his arms again. She huddled there with her eyes shut.

  The lights came on, the room filled with people, noise, a hum of activity. She could've cared less. Connor carried her out of the place.

  She was turning inward, coiling up tight in total silence. Bright lights, the sting of a needle. A wailing siren. Then nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Connor parked the car, killed the engine, and sat there aching for a c
igarette. There was no good reason not to just go buy himself some tobacco and some rolling papers. He'd given them up to please Erin, but he wasn't her boyfriend or her husband, or even her bodyguard, so what the hell? He wasn't her anything. Damn. That called for a smoke.

  But he couldn't, as if that promise were the last tenuous bond he had left with her. Lighting up a cigarette would be admitting that he was never going to have her. He couldn't face that. Not quite yet.

  Erin hadn't made a move toward him since the bloodbath, over a week ago. She'd dumped him very definitively before that, so he figured the ball was in her court. But he wasn't going to be able to wait much longer. Carrying an engagement ring around was wearing down his nerves. He felt like he had a bomb ticking in his pants pocket.

  He got out of the car, rubbing the muscle in his thigh that cramped whenever he was stressed, which was pretty much all the time these days. He gazed up at the grim bulk of the state prison. The place made him tense, in much the same way that hospitals did. He guessed that was probably the whole point.

  It was a long, tedious wait. He'd stuck a few scraps of paper into his pocket to fold into origami animals, a vain effort to keep his mind too busy to dwell on the dumb-ass thing he was doing. How much false, useless hope he might be pinning on it.

  Finally his name was called. He had a sickly, nervous feeling in his stomach, almost like he was going to see a doctor or a dentist.

  He met Ed Riggs's dark eyes through the heavy panes of glass. He was limping more than usual. He forced himself to walk more smoothly.

  Erin had gotten her wide-set brown eyes from him. Weird, to see those eyes, so similar and yet so different on Ed's stone-hard face. Riggs picked up his phone and waited.

  Connor picked up on his side. "Hi, Riggs."

  Riggs's gaze was grim. "McCloud."

  There were many ways to approach it. All of them sounded stupid.

  Riggs grunted impatiently. "They don't give you much time, so if you've got something to say to me, spit it out."

  He took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask Erin to marry me."

  Riggs's eyes went blank. He stared through the glass at the younger man. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked slowly.

  There it was. The million-dollar question. He'd been trying to answer it for himself for days, ever since the marching orders to go talk to Riggs had come over him. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "To clear the air, I guess. You're her father. I wanted you to hear it from me."

  Riggs let out a bark of bitter laughter. "Man to man, huh? Are you here to ask for my permission?"

  Anger twisted and burned, the sour, familiar pain of betrayal corroding his gut. He breathed it out and let it go. "I don't need your goddamn permission," he said. "And neither does she."

  Riggs shook his head. "You self-righteous son of a bitch. You always did piss me off."

  Connor shrugged. "There's a limited amount of pissing off that I can do to you through a telephone and bullet-proof glass. Look on the bright side. You're never going to have to drink beer and talk football with me over the barbecue."

  Riggs's mouth twitched. "Fuck you, McCloud."

  "Fuck you, too, Riggs," he replied.

  They were silent, eyes locked. Seconds ticked by. Riggs's eyes flicked away. His shoulders slumped. "Barbara was in here last week. She told me what happened. What you did for Erin and Cindy."

  Connor waited. Riggs leaned his face in his hands. When he looked up, the frustration of a trapped animal burned in his eyes. "Damn it, McCloud, what do you want? You want me to thank you? You want an apology? Forget it. This place is punishment enough."

  "No, I don't want that," Connor said.

  "I couldn't protect them, but you can, is that what you're here to tell me? You want to puff out your chest and gloat? Go ahead. Yay for you, asshole. You did good. You win. You get the grand prize."

  "That's what I'm hoping for," he said.

  Riggs's eyes narrowed. "Oh, yeah? You think you deserve her, because of this? You think you've earned her? You think—"

  "No," he cut in. "Erin decides. What I deserve or don't deserve doesn't mean shit."

  "Then what the fuck are you doing here?" Riggs hissed.

  Connor looked away from him. "I was hoping you would wish me luck," he said quietly.

  He braced himself for a vicious retort. Silence greeted his words.

  When he raised his eyes again, the flush of anger was gone from Riggs's face. It was bleak and gray under the fluorescent light. "You are so fucking strange," he said heavily. "I always thought so."

  Connor lifted his shoulders. "I know. But what can you do."

  "You ask a lot."

  "You owe me a lot," Connor said. "And I really want this."

  Riggs's mouth flattened, like he was tasting something bitter. "Oh, what the hell," he muttered. "Good luck, then. For what it's worth."

  Connor let out a long, shaky breath. "Uh… thanks."

  "Don't thank me yet," Riggs warned. "Consider the source. Good luck from me might be a curse."

  "I'll risk it," Connor said.

  "Time's up," said a disembodied voice over a ceiling intercom.

  He nodded at Riggs and put down his phone. Riggs gestured for him to pick it up again. Connor put it back to his ear. "What?"

  "You keep protecting her, McCloud," Riggs said. "You take good care of her."

  "Hell, yes. If she'll let me," he promised. "I was born for it."

  Riggs let the phone drop. He got up, turned, and marched away.

  The apartment looked even more forlorn now that the pictures and hangings she'd used to cover the stains in the wall were packed away. Miles ducked into the door and headed for the standing mirror.

  "Be careful, please," she begged. "It's extremely old."

  "I'm always careful," he assured her. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, grabbed the mirror, and galumphed out the door.

  Her mother bustled in. "That's all that will fit in the van for now, hon. A couple more armfuls of clothes, and you're out of this place."

  Erin tried to smile. "Cindy's still guarding the van?"

  "Yes. Let's take down this load, and then we'll go grab a bite."

  "I'm not hungry, Mom. I'll just do some last-minute cleaning."

  "Cleaning? This place is cleaner than it deserves to be, honey! If you clean it any more, it'll disintegrate into grit!"

  "I just need some quiet time," Erin insisted. "Don't worry."

  Her mother saw the steely look on Erin's face, and pressed her lips together. "Whatever." She yanked an armful of plastic-wrapped clothes out of the closet and marched out the door, her back stiff.

  Erin stood in the middle of the apartment. Her legs trembled from all those trips up and down the six flights of stairs. The elevator, of course, was still broken. Soon that would no longer be her problem.

  Her real problem was that something inside her felt broken, too.

  She sank down onto the floor in the middle of the room and hugged herself, shivering. It was a warm day, she was sweating, but she still felt cold when she thought of what had happened. Even though Connor had saved her. Disaster had been averted. She hadn't been hurt, and yet she was bleeding inside.

  And Connor had not called.

  God. What did she expect? What did she want from the guy, anyway? He'd tried so hard to protect her. She had fought him, and undermined him, and finally turned against him, along with the rest of the world. She wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to see her again. He must be disgusted with her. She was disgusted with herself.

  And yet, he'd risked his life for her. He had carried her out of that charnel house in his arms. And then he had melted away like fog.

  The first few days after Mom brought her home from the hospital, she'd barely cared if she lived or died. She was frozen stiff. She had no feelings at all. She just lay in her bed and stared at the wallpaper until Cindy and her mother were frantic. She didn't care. It was their turn to chew their nails, to tear out their hair, t
o be the grown-ups. Let them sweat.

  Then one day, she'd been lying on her stomach, hand dangling to the floor, and her fingers had brushed over a scrap of folded paper.

  Connor's origami unicorn.

  Feelings had roared through the ruined landscape of her heart, and she'd remembered. She had realized what had been taken from her. That magical night of perfect trust and love. Her gallant knight errant, tender and passionate and brave. It had cracked her wide open.

  She pressed her hand against her belly and stared at the scarred linoleum. The memory of that night with him still stabbed like a knife.

  It hadn't gotten any better in a week of endless days and sleepless nights, but every time she picked up the phone to call him, she stopped. She had so little to offer him. Just herself, and she felt so small right now. Such a sorry prize. And if he rejected her, that would be it. She would shrivel up like a dead flower and crumble into dust.

  Not knowing was preferable to dreadful certainty. Every day, she dropped the phone back into the cradle, and she thought, tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll have more nerve.

  Well, there were no tomorrows left. She had to call him today. Her contingency plan was ready. If he said no, she would leave tomorrow. Her friend Sasha lived in a group house in Portland that had a free bedroom. Just like her college days. It would be a step backwards in time, but it was all she could afford, and the noise and bustle of a house full of busy young women would be good for her. She could temp in Portland while she sent out resumes. There was nothing holding her in the Northwest now, if… if the answer to the big question was no. Mom was working, and loving it. Miles was tutoring Cindy through summer school. They didn't need her to take care of them, and lucky for them, because she was all tapped out. She would be lucky if she managed to take care of herself.

  "Honey? I decided to get one last load. Let's go down together."

  Erin smiled up at her mother's anxious face and scrambled to her feet. She grabbed the final armful of clothes from the closet and followed Barbara down the stairs. She kicked the lobby door open.