by Bruhns, Nina
She fought down a sick wave of nausea. “It must have been a terrible accident.”
“Tell me about it.”
When she opened her mouth to ask more, he raised a hand to stop her. “The point is, I’ve been lazy. I left the hospital well over a year ago but it was easier to buy the painkillers on the street than to go through withdrawal.”
“Your doctor cut you off?”
He sighed. “A few months ago. I was supposed to be gradually weaning myself off them. Then a guy I knew, Jimmy Tang, offered to supply me. I didn’t see a reason to stress out getting clean.”
“But now you do.”
“Yeah.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Imminent death has a way of setting one’s priorities straight.”
Okaaay. “What are you talking about?”
“If those people I told you about catch me . . . where they’re planning to send me, I’m as good as dead if I start going through withdrawal.”
Surely he couldn’t really mean—“Dead? As in . . .”
“A doornail. Seriously, permanently dead.”
She swallowed. Who the hell was after him? And how could anyone send him somewhere he didn’t want to go?
More importantly, did she believe him? Though it was obvious he certainly believed it himself.
“Just so you know,” she said, “three days isn’t going to do it. It’ll take at least—”
“Three days will get me through the worst,” he countered. “If they come for me, at least I won’t be curled up in a fetal position puking my brains out. And if I’m running from them, I won’t be worrying about where to find my next bottle of pills.”
She studied his face, the horror of what he was actually saying barely registering on his all-but-neutral expression.
How could a person live like that? It was inconceivable to her. Rainie had battled a constant, gnawing fear of random violence ever since she was twelve, when her parents had died senselessly at the hands of a carjacker. But to have someone deliberately hunting you down was different. That was downright terrifying.
Or . . .
Or was this all a drug-induced delusion?
Oxycontin didn’t usually cause paranoia, but every user was unique, and individual reactions were always possible. . . .
“Who are these people, and why are they after you?” she asked. “What makes you think they want to send you anywhere?”
He eased back against the headboard and closed his eyes, the corner of his lip lifting in a grim parody of a smile. One that told her he knew she doubted him. “Because I used to work for them, and that was my job. Getting sent places to do things nobody else would do. Now they want to send me back. To a place just like the one where all this happened.” He waved a hand over his scarred limbs.
A shiver went down her spine. She really didn’t want to know. It was probably better she didn’t know. But she couldn’t help asking. “And where is that?”
“Hell,” he said without hesitation.
Ho-boy.
Opening his eyes, he gazed at her with wide black pupils and red-rimmed lids. “So, Lorraine Martin, nurse practitioner. Are you going to help me? Or are you going to help them send me straight back to hell?”
RAINIE took a deep, calming breath. What was she supposed to say to that?
Obviously this man was deep in some very serious shit.
She was furious with Kick about deceiving her, and still couldn’t decide whether he was a good guy or a bad guy, but she could never turn away a person in real need. That wasn’t in her nature. It was the reason she had chosen to work in the ER, a place that pumped her anxiety higher for every minute she spent there. But despite her irrational fear—or perhaps because of it—she had a deep, ingrained need to help people get through their worst nightmares, like when the ugly, unpredictable world out there left them bleeding, helpless, and dying. As it had her parents.
“Of course I’ll help you,” she told Kick.
But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Thank you,” he said, holding out his hand to her.
Or sleep with him again.
She ignored his hand and his searching eyes and slid out of bed. “How long do we have?”
“We don’t. It’s already started.”
She felt his gaze on her as she padded to her dresser and got out jeans and a T-shirt. “I’ve seen the fever sweats and the yawning. What about nausea?”
“Not so far.”
“Pain?”
“Yup. My leg is hurting pretty bad.”
“It’ll get worse. Soon you’ll be hurting all over. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She pulled the T-shirt over her head. “If you went with me to the hospital, there’s an experimental—”
“I told you, no hospital.”
“Okay. Then I could go there and get you a prescription of Buprenorphine. That would help with some of the withdrawal symptoms, anyway.”
He was standing behind her before she even knew he’d moved off the bed. His fingers tightened around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t by any chance be thinking of turning me in?” he asked softly.
She held herself perfectly stiff. “No. I said I’d help you and I will.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“Funny thing, I don’t like being lied to and used.”
He forcibly turned her around to face him. “I know. And I’m truly sorry about everything . . . before. But, Rainie, you have to know what happened in that bed, that wasn’t a lie. That was real.”
Pain zinged through her again. How could he say that?
She shook her head, keeping her gaze riveted on the floor. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done. You can stay in my apartment to detox, and I’ll help you as much as I can. But then you’re out of here, and I don’t ever want to see you again.”
There was no place in her world for a crazy wild card like Kick. Aside from anything else, she was all about order, and he was the very definition of havoc.
“I understand.”
His fingertips touched her cheek, then brushed lightly along her jawline. His knuckle caught her chin and lifted her face to his. But before his lips could reach hers, she turned her head.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
He let out a breath that soughed warmly over her temple. Then he let her go.
Before she could change her mind, she strode out of the bedroom and went to the sofa where she’d left her purse. She grabbed it, slipped on her shoes, and headed for the front door.
“I’ll go pick up the prescription and a few other things you’ll need.”
“Like what?” he asked from the bedroom door. He was still naked, leaning a hip against the frame, arms crossed. He didn’t look happy. Good. She wasn’t happy, either.
“Electrolyte fluid. Maalox. Ginger ale. You should try to get some sleep while I’m gone. I doubt you’ll get much during the next few days.”
“When will you be back?”
The words were quietly spoken, but the tension behind them was palpable. He didn’t trust her. Didn’t trust that she would return to help him, but instead thought maybe she intended to call the cops.
She gazed back at him, still feeling the sensation of his powerful body on hers, of his hard length filling her; she could taste the flavor of his tongue in her mouth.
He didn’t trust her?
“An hour,” she said, stifling the urge to scream with bitterness. “Maybe an hour and a half.”
“Okay.”
“Will you still be here?” she asked. She figured there was just as good a chance he would bolt as soon as she was gone. Because he didn’t trust her.
He hesitated infinitesimally. Then said, “Unless they find me first.”
She did her best not to feel resentful. “If they do, it won’t be because of me.”
His lips curved up but his eyes were empty. “Won’t matter. They have their w
ays. I just hope I can keep one step ahead of them this time.”
There was nothing she could say to that. So she just nodded, unlocked the door, and swung it open.
She froze. Standing in a semicircle around her door were five men wearing black ski masks. All holding guns.
Really big guns.
And every one was aimed at her.
Oh, shit.
The metallic snick of bolts sliding and bullets chambering filled the hall.
The last thing she remembered was screaming, as she crumbled to the floor.
FOUR
AS soon as he heard Rainie’s scream, Kick lunged back into the bedroom, beelining it for a weapon.
How the fuck had they found him so quickly?
He fumbled the SIG off the nightstand and it went skittering, so he grabbed the Beretta from his jacket pocket, then rolled onto the floor toward his discarded clothes. Face it, the only thing worse than being caught unawares was being caught unawares with your pants down. By sliding in right next to the bed he was able to pull his discarded suit trousers on as the intruders stormed the room. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. He was fucked either way. Five of them and no egress. Even he knew when to yield the moment and live to fight another day.
He tucked the Beretta under the mattress, raised his hands above the level of the bed, and carefully poked his head up. Instantly he was staring down the barrels of four M-4s. But he wasn’t looking at them. He was scanning the eyes behind the ski masks.
Well, well. If it wasn’t Mr. Pinstripes, sans the suit. This time the team all wore break-in black—with appropriate footwear. Someone must have given them a lecture.
“Hello, Al,” he said with disgust, wiping the gathering sweat from his brow.
He was manhandled to his feet.
Pulling off his ski mask, Al tsked. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Kyle.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Rainie, who was lying limp on the floor being fussed over by a fifth man. Al aimed a knowing smirk at Kick’s state of undress, then glanced at the scatter of condom wrappers on the floor. “A very naughty boy, by the look of things.”
“Bite me,” Kick said wearily, shaking the goons off and zipping up his pants. He had to make two passes at the zipper tab because his hands had started shaking. “And leave the woman alone.”
“Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. Did you really think you could avoid us using an old-school maneuver like this?” He tsked again.
Kick grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed where it had ended up bunched into a ball. “Hell, it worked for Robert Redford.”
Al snarked. “Three Days of the Condor? Daaamn. We have been bored, haven’t we?”
Kick shook out the shirt. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been highly entertained leading you assholes on a chase for the past year. By the way, how’s the kid with the bullet in his leg?”
Al’s humor faded. “Walking again. No thanks to you.”
“Please. Spare me the violins. It was a flesh wound. But nice try. How’d you find me?” he asked neutrally. Professional curiosity. Be nice to know where he’d slipped up.
“We had a real interesting talk with a guy named Jimmy Tang. Showed up at the diner after you bolted. A veritable pharmacopeia. Told us all about your little secret. Shame on you, buddy.”
“Fuck you. Next time you’re blown up by a land mine you can throw shade my way.”
“Anyway, figured you’d want to get clean fast, under the circumstances. Thought you might head for the nearest clinic or hospital.” He wagged a finger. “The speed dating nurse thing, though. That was clever.”
Obviously not clever enough.
In the living room Rainie moaned, drawing his attention.
“What the hell did your apes do to her?” he demanded, attempting to break through the wall of muscle to get to her.
“Ain’t done nuthin’,” the guy kneeling over her said defensively. “She just folded. Been out like a light since.”
The goons held him back forcibly. Al raised his M-4 again. “Cuff him, boys. Make sure to do up the FlexiCuffs nice and tight.”
“Wait.” Kick jerked away, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t going to pull anything. “Let me check on Rainie first. Please.”
“No fucking way.”
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused. He could see the split second when she remembered what had happened. They widened, and her throat let out an awful sound, like a wounded animal.
How many times had he heard that sound . . . when the person you had in your sights knew they were going to die?
With a heartrending “No!” she compressed into a fetal position and wove her fingers together behind her neck, shaking like a leaf. “No. No. No,” she whimpered over and over.
“What the hell,” the goon kneeling next to her muttered, looking to Al for guidance.
“Can’t you see she’s terrified?” Kick snapped. “Let me go to her.”
After a maddening pause, Al nodded. “He tries anything, shoot the woman.”
Jesus. How had he ever have worked for these people? He’d gotten a whole new perspective on their methods since jumping over the fence.
He slid to his knees next to her, stifling a grimace of pain from his leg, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. He pushed back the hair that hung like a curtain around her downcast face. “Rainie, sweetheart, it’s okay. They’re only after me. They won’t hurt you. I promise.”
She just curled tighter and shook her head.
He bent over and kissed her temple. “We’ll leave you alone now. Thanks for trying to help me. Thanks for . . . everything.”
Grunting from the flash of fire in his leg as he stood, he turned to limp for the door.
“Not so fast, Jackson,” Al ordered. “Pick her up.”
He froze. What? “Hell, no.”
“She’s coming with us.”
He couldn’t believe this. “Why?”
“Because she’s seen too much. Can’t have her calling the cops, now, can we? At least not until you disappear.”
Kick clenched his jaw in fury. He should have fucking known this would happen.
“You are the scum of the earth, you know that?” he growled. “She’s an innocent bystander. Let her go.”
Al punched a forefinger at him. “You’re the one who brought her into this mess, Jackson. Cooperate, and she’ll be fine. Now, pick her up. That way you can’t try any funny stuff.”
He ground his teeth. They were so fucking going to pay for this. Somehow, someday, he’d make them pay.
“Fine.” He took a deep breath and stooped down, trying to slip his arms around her. “Rainie, I’m so sorry about this.”
She finally turned her face toward him, her eyes filled with fear. “Please don’t take me,” she whispered.
He glanced at Al, who just made a sign to hurry up. The rest of the goons stood watching impassively, weapons at the ready. Jesus, what was wrong with these people?
“I’ve got no choice, baby.” He tried to gather her in his arms, but her defensive position along with the stiffness of his leg made it too awkward to lift her. “Rainie, can you stand up for me?”
She just stared up at him, her eyes wild. He could feel the pounding of her heart and the trembling of her limbs, see the flush of terror in her face.
“You’re going to have to help me, sweetheart. I can’t do this alone.” He was afraid if he didn’t move her soon they’d hurt him. Or worse, her. “Help me,” he said firmly. “I really need your help, Nurse Martin.”
That finally cracked through to her. She swallowed, and hesitantly, so hesitantly, unfolded her body and reached up to slide her arms round his neck. Together they managed to stumble to their feet.
“I said carry her,” Al commanded, striding to the door. “Masks off and conceal your weapons, people. Let’s roll.”
Kick inhaled deeply and flexed his leg in preparation, then went to do as he was told.
“No.”
At the softly
spoken word, everyone in the room turned to Rainie. “What did you say?” Al barked at her.
“No,” she said, her voice a little stronger.
Al narrowed his eyes. “You are in no position to bargain, sister. Pick her up!”
“He can’t,” she argued, sounding more like the little trou blemaker he’d come to know. “His leg—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about his damned—”
“And he’s starting to go through drug withdrawal. You may as well shoot me now as make him carry me down five flights of stairs. Look at him! He’ll never make it. And I won’t be much of a hostage if I’m dead from a broken neck.” By the end of the speech, she sounded almost like her old self.
“You’re not a hostage,” Al said, looking really irritated. But after an assessing glance at Kick’s sweaty face and shaking hands, apparently he saw her point. “All right, fine. Cuff her, too,” he growled at the man with the FlexiCuffs, then glared at her. “I’m warning you, one false move from either of you and you’ll both be sorry.”
If Kick hadn’t been so relieved, he might have cheered at her. But just then a wave of dizziness swept over him, making him stumble. Four guns were instantly pointed at them.
Rainie froze like a deer in headlights. He grabbed her for balance and kept pulling until her face was buried against his chest. “Put the goddamn weapons away. You have me, okay? I’ll go wherever you want. Just stop scaring the shit out of the lady.”
Al smiled triumphantly. “Okay, then. That’s better. Let’s go see the boss.”
THE only thing keeping Rainie from dissolving into a puddle of blind panic was the fact that Kick really needed her. By the time they were down the stairs and out in front of her building it was obvious he was hurting badly.
“How you doing?” she asked as she helped him lean back against the rough brick to catch his breath.
He gritted his teeth and moved close to her ear. “Run,” he urged under his breath. “Now, while you have the chance.”