Grabbed by Vicious: 1

by Lopez, Lolita

  “It’s not the first time I’ve been beaten.” The painkillers dulled her senses. She’d never have said that to a stranger if she’d been in her right mind.

  Surprise crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Don’t apologize. You didn’t hit me.”

  He looked as if he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he sat on the chair closest to her bed. Before he could say anything, there was a knock on the door to her private room. She perked up, hoping it was Vicious, but deflated when she saw it was only a medic. He held up a handful of syringes. “Antibiotics, ma’am.”

  He entered the room and walked over to the strange box mounted on the wall. The intravenous lines from her arm had been plugged into various ports there. The medic tapped the touch screen and entered a code that allowed him access to the medications inside.

  “We usually just dispense straight from the machine,” he explained as he unscrewed various vials and placed them in a small plastic basin. “Your size makes things difficult. We had our pharmacist mix these up especially. The machine can’t convert solutions in that small of a dose.”

  Menace asked the question she’d been thinking. “Why haven’t you purchased different equipment for these women? There are at least twenty of these Calyx women on this ship now.”

  “The Valiant has only been taking brides from Calyx for six months, sir. Brides from the other Grabs in the system are closer in size to us so it’s never been an issue. We’ve put in requisitions but the budget cuts have been steep this year. It’s cheaper to hand-mix the solutions and plug them into the dispensers.”

  Hallie watched the medic put the vials into the ports. He closed the machine and accessed the dosage screen again. His fingertips paused over the screen. “You haven’t had your med-check, have you?”

  She shook her head. “I think it’s scheduled for next week.”

  “And you’ve never had antibiotics?”

  “Never.”

  “If you start to feel sick, let us know immediately. It’s possible you may have an allergy to some of our medications. So far, we’ve been able to use them on your people without issue but we never know who might have a sensitivity. I’ll call the lab and have them run the tests on your blood draws.”

  “I’ll watch her carefully,” Menace promised.

  The medic nodded, tapped a few keys on the medication pump and left the room. Hallie stared at the clear tubes entering her veins. Fluids, some clear and others a pale-blue, trickled into her blood stream. It was fascinating to watch—especially now that she felt high as a kite.

  The door opened again but it wasn’t Vicious. It was General Thorn. Hopes dashed, she wallowed in the glumness of her husband’s absence. She liked Menace all right but he wasn’t her man. She wanted Vicious.

  The older man looked different in his duty uniform. Anger tightened the general’s face. He glanced at her and his expression faltered. Always the consummate soldier, he quickly steeled his features. Menace jumped to his feet and saluted his senior officer. “General.”

  “Gunner Menace.” The general nodded and Menace relaxed his stance a bit. His gaze returned to her as he moved closer to her bed. He smiled and reached for her hand. He noticed the bruising and patted her arm gently instead. “I want you to know that I’m personally going to oversee this case. Sergeant Crow won’t see the light of day ever again.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He smiled and brushed some hair behind her ear. “You’re still just as lovely as ever, Hallie.”

  His compliment paid, the general nodded in Menace’s direction and left the room. Menace returned to his seat. “At least Sergeant Crow’s wife will finally get some justice.”

  Hallie’s gaze snapped to Menace. Any other time she could have excused the thoughtless comment but hopped up on painkillers, it simply wasn’t possible. “Justice? Maybe someone should have listened to her neighbors who were complaining about the violence next door. Maybe someone should have gone into that damn apartment and done a welfare check on that poor woman when Lenny called Emergency. Maybe you people should screen your soldiers better and kick out the violent creeps.”

  Menace paled at her outburst but it was a more familiar voice that answered her.

  “You’re right, Hallie. We failed this woman.” Vicious stood in the doorway to her hospital room. He looked haggard and drawn. His normally pristine and perfectly pressed uniform was rumpled and bloodstained. Most telling, he avoided her gaze. “What’s done is done. We can’t change the way this was handled. Hopefully we can protect the next woman.”

  Hallie started to feel really loopy—and incredibly angry. She feared something unforgivable would spill from her lips. “I don’t think I should talk anymore.” Her stomach began to feel queasy. She gulped as her mouth watered. “I think I’m going to vomit.”

  Vicious flew across the room and snatched up the basin on her side table. He braced her aching body as she retched into the square receptacle. Just when she thought it was over, it started again. “Get a medic in here now!”

  Hallie slumped in his arms as medics ran into the room. She couldn’t really focus on what was being said. Her stomach hurt so much. Her face throbbed. “Vicious,” she pleaded and groped at his arm. “Vicious, please.”

  “Hang on, Kitten.” He held her hand and tried to stay out of the way of the medics tending her. “What is wrong with my wife?”

  His angry shout made some of the men jump. Finally, one of the medics spoke. “Allergic reaction, sir. We’re trying to counteract it now.”

  Hallie whimpered, her skin on fire now. She tried to scratch at her belly where the itch was the worst but the damn gown was in the way. Another wave of nausea hit. She barely hit the basin this time. She felt sure she would puke up her stomach if this kept up much longer.

  Something cold and painful entered her veins. She cried out and tried to rip the IV from her arm. “It hurts! Oh god. Make it stop, Vicious. Make it stop!”

  “Hallie,” he said, his tone urgent. “Calm down. Look at me. Look at me. Just breathe. Breathe.”

  Panic took hold. She couldn’t think now.

  “Put her down,” Vicious shouted. “Knock her out now.”

  “No!” Hallie clutched at Vicious but it was too late. Another drug hit her system. Sleepiness engulfed her. She only managed to get the first part of his name out before the world turned black.

  *

  Vicious sat forward in the uncomfortable chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He held his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Hallie had been out for nearly five hours now. The rash covering her from head to toe had blistered and now wept. With her swelling and bruising and now the rash, she looked like some kind of alien life form.

  And it was all his fault.

  Why the hell hadn’t he moved her med-check up a few days? What kind of husband was he to put her at risk? He’d been so busy with bullshit at work that he’d rescheduled her med-check to better fit his schedule. Now Hallie suffered the consequences of an unknown drug allergy.

  He lifted his gaze and stared at her. She looked so pitiful and small in the oversized bed. He thought of Menace’s recap of the conversation he’d had with the medics about the medical equipment aboard the Valiant and its incompatibility with women from Hallie’s planet. More than anything, he was furious that he’d been unaware of the problem. The medical bay was staffed by the sky fleet. For some reason, information wasn’t flowing between their two branches. It was, in short, a clusterfuck.

  Information flow wasn’t the only problem between the land corps and the sky fleet. He’d had Sergeant Crow’s records pulled. The man had a history of violent behavior with sky port prostitutes. He’d actually been banned from most of the bawdy houses in this sector. Somehow, he’d managed to earn enough points to enter a Grab. Some asshole had overlooked his disciplinary record and given him permission to take a wife. It was an outrage.

  Even more outrageous and troubling was the
way the man’s C.O. had handled the complaints. Vicious had noticed the various reports made by neighbors. Crow and his wife had been moved twice since taking up residence in the married NCO block. Instead of addressing the issue of domestic violence, Crow’s commanding officer had simply moved the man and his poor abused wife from apartment to apartment, probably hoping someone would finally stop complaining.

  He’d never been so furious with any officer. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to punch that lazy bastard right in the mouth. Instead, he’d stripped him of his rank and sent him to the brig. The man would be bounced to the shittiest duty station Vicious could find. General Thorn backed him on that one-hundred percent.

  Guilt twisted his gut when his gaze fell on her bloodied white collar in the plastic biohazard bag on the counter. Hallie didn’t belong in a place like this. She’d already been through so much in her young life. He’d wanted to give her better and he’d failed. He’d brought her to a place that looked the other way when men battered their wives. He’d brought her onto a ship that couldn’t even properly provide medical care to her.

  “You look like shit.” Terror entered the hospital room so silently Vicious wouldn’t have even suspected his presence if he hadn’t spoken. Terror shoved a white takeout box and a bottled drink into his hand. “Eat.”

  Vicious didn’t argue with his friend. Getting something into his stomach might settle it and give him the energy he needed to face this crisis. He opened the box and placed it on his lap. While he took a drink of the slightly sweet sports drink, Terror moved to Hallie’s side and peered down at her. He seemed ever so curious. “She surprises me.”

  Vicious frowned and bit into his sandwich. Terror tended to be a bit cryptic. “She’s lucky to be alive.”

  Terror nodded. “Extremely.”

  Vicious continued to eat while Terror fingered the IV lines and checked the med screens. He clicked over to the screen estimating her pain levels. Receptors attached to her scalp fed brain waves to the machine that interpreted the information. A constant flow of pain medication flowed into the IVs. Vicious had called in the top pharmacist to mix her meds. There were already plans for meetings in the morning to address the changing equipment needs of the med bay. Admiral Orion had been just as pissed off to realize the medical situation aboard his ship hadn’t been worked out better.

  “She seems comfortable.” Terror backed away from the machines and dropped into the chair next to Vicious. “Are they going to keep her sedated long?”

  “Until the rash clears,” Vicious replied. “I don’t want her feeling pain. She’s felt enough of it.”

  “It could have been a worse beating,” Terror remarked rather coldly. “You and I have had worse.”

  “It’s not her first beating. Whether it was the worst or not doesn’t matter to me. I won’t have her suffering needlessly when we have the medical technology to keep her comfortable.”

  “Her father?” Terror guessed.

  Vicious nodded. “Apparently he’s the town asshole.”

  “Would you like me to kill him?”

  Vicious jerked his gaze to Terror’s face. The man was stone-cold serious. “No.”

  “Are you sure? It would be no trouble. I could be in and out of that village in five minutes or less. No one would even know I was missing from the Valiant. I could bring the body back with me and dispose of it in space. No evidence.”

  “I don’t doubt that you could get the job done without a trace of evidence.”

  “It could be my wedding gift.”

  Vicious snorted. “Yes, I’m sure Hallie would just love that.”

  “She might.”

  “She wouldn’t. She’s not that kind of person.”

  “Pity,” Terror replied. “It’s been a while since I’ve done a little covert wet-work.”

  Vicious shook his head. “You frighten me sometimes.”

  “I frighten myself sometimes,” Terror muttered.

  Vicious snorted. “I can imagine.”

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, the high-pitched beep of Hallie’s heart rate on the monitor the only noise in the room. Finally, Vicious spoke again. “She was right, you know? We have failed these women. We take them away from their homes. We bring them to a strange culture. They have no support for thirty days because of some ridiculous custom that works just fine when we’re back home but not so well out here in the field. On top of that, some of us are incredibly hard on our brides. Others are more lenient with them.”

  “Like you,” Terror needled.

  Vicious shot him the finger. “Be serious, Terror.”

  “All right. How about this, Vee? Stop talking. Start doing.”

  Vicious considered his friend’s advice. He could always count on Terror to cut through the bullshit. “We’re going to have to change things around here.”

  “Yes, we are.” Terror nodded and stretched out his legs. “Are you going to eat those cookies?”

  Vicious laughed and tossed the crinkly bag at Terror. “Here.”

  “I don’t know why I love these things so much.” Terror ripped into the bag. “They’re so bad for me.”

  “Listen to you,” Vicious said with a chuckle. “Your feminine side is showing.”

  “What can I say? I work hard for this figure.”

  Head tilted back, Vicious laughed—and it felt good. Some of the tension left his body. His gaze fell to Hallie and he sobered. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

  Terror frowned. “For what?”

  “Letting this happen.”

  “Vee,” Terror squeezed his arm, “this wasn’t your fault. Hallie knows that.”

  “Does she?”

  “She does.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m never wrong.”

  Vicious chortled. “You’ve got the right idea staying out of the Grab. You’d be bounced back to the bachelor’s quarters by your new bride in twenty-four hours.”

  Terror snorted. “Another reason to stay out of that mess.”

  When Terror finished his cookies, he rose and clapped Vicious on the arm. He left the room without another word. They didn’t need to say anything. They’d been friends long enough to have their own silent language. One look, one smile—that was all they required.

  Medics came in and out of the room. Medications were adjusted. They checked her rash and decided it was receding. He was offered a blanket and pillow for the pullout couch in the corner but declined. His inner martyr surfaced. He needed to be uncomfortable and suffer through a night of discomfort to assuage some of his guilt.

  He’d only just dozed off when he heard the faint rustle of bed sheets. He was on his feet in an instant, those old instincts still well-honed. Hallie struggled to sit up and frantically glanced around the room. He quickly recognized she was in some kind of drug-induced hysteria. “Hallie, baby, calm down.”

  She turned pleading, glassy eyes on him. “Please don’t hit me again!”

  “Hit you? I’m not going to hit you.”

  She cowered behind her hands. “Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

  Vicious glanced down at his bloodstained uniform. He looked a lot like the sergeant or maybe even her father. Though horrified at the idea of being mistaken for her abusive father or Sergeant Crow, Vicious pushed down his hurt and smiled at her. “Hallie, it’s me. It’s Vicious.”

  She seemed so uncertain and afraid. Finally, in a whisper, she said, “He’s mad at me.”

  “Who, Kitten?”

  “Vicious. I did a bad thing. I stole his card and almost got myself killed. I caused a lot of trouble today.”

  “He’s not mad at you, Hallie. He would never be mad at you for helping a friend, for showing such loyalty and kindness. If anything, he’s mad at himself.” Vicious approached her cautiously. “He’s worried about you. He cares for you very much.” He swallowed the painful lump clogging his throat. “I wish I could tell you just how much you mean to him.”


  Her face softened. With wonder in her voice, she admitted, “I think I might be falling in love with him.”

  Joy blossomed in his chest. A bit conspiratorially, he said, “Don’t tell anyone, but he thinks he’s falling in love with you too.”

  She smiled then and slid back onto the bed. She rolled onto her side and seemed relaxed again. “When he comes back, will you tell him I need him?”

  “I will.” Vicious could hardly speak. He watched as her eyelids grew heavy and she fell back asleep. When he was sure she was out, he removed his boots and the uniform shirt now ruined with blood. As carefully as possibly, he climbed into the bed with her. He was hyper-vigilant about moving her IV lines out of the way and avoiding her arm and its sling. He slid an arm under her and used the other to gather her close.

  Even in her drug-induced sleep, she snuggled closer to him, burrowing into his warmth. “Vicious.”

  His name escaped her lips on a happy sigh. He pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head. In that moment, he didn’t care that she was splotchy and bruised and covered in bloody grime. To him, she was the most beautiful thing in all the galaxies of the universe. He never wanted to let her go.

  Vicious replayed their odd conversation. Maybe Terror was right. Hallie didn’t blame him. The hang-up was his alone. He was smart enough to realize that if he didn’t let it go he was going to drive her away. He’d come so close to losing her forever today. Focusing on his own guilt wasn’t going to do them any good.

  He needed to focus on the most important thing in his life—Hallie.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re not going, Hallie. End of discussion.” Vicious slashed his hand through the air as he made his final decree on the subject.

  Hallie leapt off the couch in their quarters and stood toe to toe with Vicious. “You can’t keep me locked up here! I’m dying in this place. I’m wilting like a dying flower. I need sunshine. I need fresh air. I feel like a prisoner in solitary. Let me out, warden!”

  His hard expression slipped. “It was never my intention to make you feel like my prisoner. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”