Titanium

by Linda Palmer

  "For the fans? Or for himself? Who really wins here, Al? Are you going to help write Ti's script? Will you have a part in his movie?"

  No answer.

  The silence stretched forever. Finally, I got the nerve to speak up again. "Would you tell me the Titanium story?"

  "You don't know it?"

  "Nope, and take your time, would you? It's way too quiet in here."

  After a long silence, he began to talk, telling me a tale I already knew, but in the words of an obsessed fan, which Zander so wasn't. Even though Al's utter devotion creeped me out, I deliberately asked questions to keep him engaged, dreading the moment when his relief would show up and I'd be stuck in the dark with no one to talk to.

  I couldn't bear for that to happen. Was it time to make my move?

  "I need to pee."

  "Again?"

  "You're keeping track of potty breaks? Let me out, please. I drank that whole Coke and ate the ice, too." I heard his heavy sigh and the shuffle of his feet as he stood. Quietly removing the top of the "lip gloss," I placed a forefinger on the valve of my tiny can of pepper spray--one of those practical gifts from Clint--and waited for the bolt to slide back, my heart thumping. Though I'd been through hell, doing what I had to do still didn't come easy.

  As Al opened the door, I squirted him right in the mask. Apparently some got into his eyes, as I'd intended. He ripped off the mask and doubled over, cursing, his hands clawing his face. I blasted him again and shot past him down the dark hallway. But there was no way out there. Pivoting, I charged the other way and found the stairs. I took them two at a time, stumbling once and almost falling because my eyes were on fire, too.

  Al, clearly in agony, started after me but didn't get far before he stopped, howling in pain. I reached the door at the top of the steps and slowly tested the knob, unsure of what awaited me. Wasn't locked. I pushed the door open a crack and, when I saw no one, widened the opening enough to slip through and lock it behind me.

  With my heart in my throat, I crept through a big dark room in search of an exit. I heard Al pounding up the stairs, still cursing. Although I felt a twinge of remorse, I forgot it when I realized I'd entered a room that could've belonged to the CIA. Flat screens, computers, maps. I stopped so fast that my upper body didn't, causing me to fall forward and have to catch myself. My mouth dropped open.

  What the hell?

  Was that...? Oh my God! It was! Steve McConnell aka my father on one of the monitors, which was divided into six frames. He had his phone to his ear as he paced in what appeared to be a plush office. From his agitated gestures, I could tell he was arguing with someone. A scan of the other frames showed me interiors of a huge house, one of the shots of a baby's room. Nearby monitors had the same type of split screen, but the frames were all blank...until I got to one with my very own bedrooms and bathroom on it.

  "Are you kidding me?"

  My face began to burn, but not with embarrassment. I'd never been more furious. How many times had those pervs watched me get naked? If I'd had Zander's gun, I'd have turned it on Al now without a second thought.

  Al.

  I'd actually forgotten him until that moment. Loud bangs on the basement door said he hadn't forgotten me. Snapping out of my stupor, I dashed straight to the nearest door, yanked it open, and charged into...

  A wrecking yard?

  I'd never seen so many cars in my life. Stacks and stacks of them, most crushed to some degree, all nothing more than crazy shadows in the dark. I sprinted toward the cover they offered and wound my way through a zillion of the junkers, piled so they formed the walls of a metal maze. Left. Right. Left. I didn't stop until I reached a spot well away from the building in which I'd been held captive. Gasping for breath, I bent over, my hands planted on my knees. My heart hammered in my chest. My nose filled with the scent of rain, oil, and gasoline.

  Some strategic maneuvering gave me a glimpse of where I'd been. Small and nondescript, the cinder block structure offered no outward hint that it was a viable business, much less that it had a basement. The boarded up windows gave me the impression that it had closed years ago. I saw one utility pole with a mercury vapor lamp that lit up the immediate area.

  Rolling my body so that my back rested against a rusted truck, I tried to calm down. That's when I noticed the heavy mist, steadily soaking my hair and clothes. Random plops startled me even though I knew they were only collected moisture, dripping on metal carcasses.

  Where on earth was I?

  More important, what the heck should I do now?

  I had to keep running. That I knew. But to where? North, south, east, west? I wished I was a human compass. Not that it would help to know directions. I'd never been so lost.

  The crunch of tires on gravel scared me stupid. Climbing one of the cars, I stayed as low as possible and scoped the area. I saw that a tall chain link fence with looped razor wire apparently surrounded the yard. As a chain link gate with wheels rolled open, a silver SUV pulled up to the building. Five guys piled out of it, one of them huge. Yeah, Panther. The sight of him sent a chill shimmying down my spine. In seconds all those guys would know I'd escaped and come looking for me. I had to do something and quick.

  With my pulse racing, I waited until they entered the house before I hauled butt again, this time working my way to that wide open gateway. The wind stung my face. Oily patches made me slip. The ground flew up to meet me. Somehow I caught myself, saving my face, but scraping my hands and elbows. Lying prone, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. Worst of all, I couldn't get up.

  And then I heard it--the rattle of the fence somewhere to my right, a sound that might result if someone were shaking it. Terrified, I silently wiggled my body under an old bus. My ankle began to throb, something else to worry about. Had I twisted it when I fell?

  Would they hear me? See me?

  How could they not?

  Yeah it was dark, but the light on the pole might be just enough to give away my position.

  Boots appeared in my line of sight, but the toes weren't facing me. I held my breath and waited until they moved past, when I counted to sixty and added ten more before I took a chance. When I saw I was alone, I scooted out from under the bus and rose to a crouch. Someone stepped from behind a car, directly in my path.

  I rose and swung my fist blindly, punching him right in the face.

  "Shit!"

  That voice. I staggered back in my shock and almost fell. Zander caught me. With a squeal of ecstasy, I climbed the boy, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Somehow his lips found mine. Our kiss tasted of tears, blood, and relief. So much relief. When it ended, Zander didn't let me go. He whistled, a sound unlike any I'd ever heard. Three identical whistles came back at us, each from a distance and a different direction.

  I kept hugging him, my face buried in his neck, smothering my words. "They told me you were dead."

  "I'm so sorry. I'll never forgive myself for letting you down. "

  I made him look me in the eye. "Don't even go there."

  "It's my job to protect you--"

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa! This whole thing? What just happened? It's about my dad. My dad and a crazy Titanimite."

  "I know that."

  "Huh? How?"

  With a shake of his head, Zander switched tracks. "Did those assholes hurt you?"

  "No."

  "Why are you bleeding?"

  "I'm not. You are, though." I swept my fingers over his sticky upper lip and showed it to him. "If I did that to you, I'm so sorry."

  Zander's kissed me in answer, a kiss that abruptly ended when he swung around and put me down. Startled, I didn't know why until I heard the sounds of feet splashing through a puddle-- someone running toward us.

  A tall guy in the familiar silver mask burst from between two crushed cars a nanosecond later. Eyes blazing, Zander shoved me away. He hurtled his own body forward, tackling the enemy. They crashed onto the ground, Zander on top. He yanked off the mask an
d punched him in the face once, twice. The guy threw his arms up to defend himself. "Stop! You win! You win!"

  Al.

  Dude was not having a good night.

  With a growl of disgust, Zander struggled to stand. But someone else had found us. As the second Titanium lunged onto the scene, I charged and pushed him sideways as hard as I could. He stumbled and actually fell on one knee, landing at the feet of Zander, who was standing tall again. I saw him rip his mask off and pull something from his boot that glinted. I screamed as he twisted his body and plunged a knife into Zander's left leg. It deflected off the prosthesis and flew from his fingers.

  The guy stared at his empty hand in disbelief and abruptly howled with laughter, a sound so creepy I got chill bumps. "So we've got ourselves a real live Titanium. Ironic, don't you think?"

  I knew that gravelly voice.

  So did Zander, who went for Ti's throat, choking off that maniacal mirth. Hating to do it, I still jumped up to stop him, but Dom Perez got there first, grabbing his arm. "We need him alive, bro."

  Zander shook off Dom, released Ti, and struggled to get up again.

  Ti laughed. "Need some help, Purple Heart?"

  "Bastard!" I stomped him in the crotch. Groaning, Ti grabbed his stuff and curled into a fetal position, not laughing anymore.

  "The others?" asked Zander, wiping his nose with his sleeve. I saw his grin.

  "Got six including him." Dom glanced at me. "Are there more?"

  "I have no idea." For some reason I began to blubber like a baby even though it was all finally over.

  "I'm going to call Sergeant Brian." Dom put his hand on Zander's shoulder. "Give your woman a big hug, Xman. She's earned it."

  Zander

  As I started toward Riley, she stumbled a little. "Are you hurt?" She sure hadn't stomped like she was.

  "Ankle."

  I scooped her up in my arms and turned to go just as Simms and Wilson walked up. Both of them grinned at Riley, who'd slipped her arms around my neck. It felt so damn good to have her back, and since she was a featherweight, I didn't have any problem carrying her even with my effed-up leg.

  "What happened?" Simms asked, his gaze shifting from Riley to me. "You're both bloody. And look at your hand."

  We did. Already bruising. She might even have a break. Riley pointed to my nose, which had begun to swell from the feel of it. Wilson and Simms laughed their asses off as she awkwardly wiped off our faces with the hem of her shirt.

  "Brian's going to be pissed," said Simms once my glare shut them up.

  "No doubt," I told them, my voice now a little nasally thanks to the puffy nose. "The prisoners are secured?"

  Wilson nodded. "Roger that. And we're heading over now to make sure they stay that way." With a grin and a wave, he and Simms left us.

  Mission accomplished. Just like old times again.

  "Why will the Sergeant be pissed?" Riley asked. "You just saved me."

  As we headed to the trucks parked outside the fence via the gap we'd cut in it, I explained that the good sergeant had told us to let the cops do the work. I didn't say a word about her father being there. Wasn't sure how, and they'd be face to face soon enough.

  "Where are we?"

  "About five miles out of town. Apparently Jeremy's grandparents used to own this wrecking yard."

  "Who?"

  "Jeremy slash Jason slash Titan."

  "How'd you know he calls himself Titan?"

  Shit. "Your, um, dad told us."

  "What!"

  We covered the rest of the distance to my ride with me explaining how her dad had shown up at the house. I didn't share anything he'd told me about his illness. That was his story to tell. Nor did I mention how easily he'd caught me in the Nelson when I lost my cool. She didn't need to know every little detail.

  When we got to the truck, I set Riley in the passenger seat. Although I tried to disengage, she didn't let go of me. What could I do but kiss her and kiss her and kiss her? That led to me feeling her up. When I did, she made a sound that would've landed us in her big ol' bed if we'd been at the house.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Exactly what I wanted to do, I realized. In fact a lifetime of Riley's kisses and her beautiful body wouldn't be enough. I knew she cared about me. She might even love me. But how could I make my problems hers when she already had enough of her own? It just wouldn't be right.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  Not surprised that she could sense my hesitation, I eased out of her arms. "You're wet, hurt, and exhausted. It's time to go home."

  "Is this about you thinking you failed me? Because that's ridiculous."

  "Riley, I --" Maybe it was my tone. Maybe it was because I was already shaking my head and pulling away. Either or both, she sort of closed up.

  I'd never hated myself more.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Riley

  After wiping his face on a towel he'd found in the back seat of his truck, Zander drove us to the front gate, which stood wide open. By the SUV, I saw six males sitting on the wet ground, one of them easily recognizable because of his size. Yeah, Panther. That left Mo, V, Fe, Al, and Ti, who now looked like the weakling he really was. Wilson, Simms, Sparks, and Dom stood guard. Their demeanor pretty much ensured there'd be no escape.

  My wounded warriors.

  "Stay put." Zander got out of the truck and started toward the prisoners. I did the same. He shot me an exasperated glance, but I didn't care. I wanted to look those creeps in the eye.

  Limping over to them probably didn't enhance the survivor persona I wanted to display, but I did it anyway, walking the length of that row of losers. Five of them couldn't meet my gaze. As for Panther, well, he pursed his lips and made a disgusting kissing sound.

  Zander started toward him, but I didn't need help to knee him in the face. And since he hadn't expected it, Panther's head snapped back.

  Wilson whooped and punched the air with his bionic fist.

  Just then a squad car turned onto the drive. We all waited while it pulled up to us. Sergeant Brian and another man got out of it. At first I didn't recognize who the second guy was. He looked thinner in person than on TV. But when our gazes met, I knew. Steve McConnell in the flesh.

  What did I do?

  Run to my rock. Zander put an arm around me so I could watch my father's approach from the safety of an embrace. A peek at Zander's expression revealed a hint of smug smile.

  "Riley, honey, are you okay?" Steve McConnell advanced warily, which told me my negative reaction to his presence hadn't been lost on him.

  "I'm fine."

  He stepped a little closer, his gaze burning right through me, his expression cautious. "I'm so sorry this happened. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine such a stink when I was approached about the movie."

  I nodded.

  He stood there for a second, clearly at a loss about what to do next. His eyes begged me for the mercy his lips didn't put into words. All at once, it wasn't about an obsessed fan. That was over. Done. This was now about a single mistake and its lifelong ripple effect. My father wanted to turn the tide. All I had to do was let him. Could I forgive and forget?

  Well how could I not?

  I was, after all, the girl who believed in kindness, forgiveness, and second chances for strangers on the street. Didn't my very own dad deserve the same?

  With my heart racing, I slipped from Zander's embrace and closed the short distance between us and Steve. His face lit up. As his arms enfolded me, a million suppressed memories cascaded into my brain. My dad and I shopping for Mom's Christmas present. My dad and I raking leaves in the yard. My dad and I sitting at his art table, him sketching out his latest graphic novel, me coloring a Disney princess with fat Crayons.

  Yeah. All the good stuff I'd tucked away to keep from hurting.

  Was it safe to remember now? I wanted so badly to believe it was.

  Did our sad history vanish into the chilly autumn wind?


  Not even close. But we were definitely taking steps leading to a new future.

  While we waited for backup to arrive and take the bad guys to jail, Sergeant Brian told us a little about Jeremy North, who was the wild child of a prominent lawyer in town. In small ways his life did parallel that of Eric Deckard--wealth, parental disapproval, occasional alienation. But there the similarities ended. Jeremy was no antihero trying to rob the rich to give to the poor. He was an immature, overindulged fanatic who wanted his way and would resort to violence to get it. As for the others, they all attended the same elite school except for Panther, who was a bouncer at a local bar.

  It came as no surprise that Jeremy was blaming everything on his muscle man, who'd been in and out of jail on assault and battery charges. I told Brian who was really in charge. He assured me that he'd get to the bottom of things and promised there'd be consequences for everyone involved. Hoping he was right, I happily watched them being hauled away.

  * * * *

  If my father minded my apartment overflowing with guys when we finally left the ER and got home, he didn't complain. Probably because they all worshiped him.

  The two of us escaped to the back porch for a bit. With both of us sitting on lawn chairs I stole from Cheap Charlie's side, Dad talked about himself, Mom, and me, freely taking responsibility for the mistakes that had fractured our family. Listening to him, I struggled to remove my resentment from the equation. The longer he talked, the easier it got until I found the compassion that was so much the core of my existence that it had even influenced my career choice. Dad had regrets that time and my forgiveness wouldn't erase. Wasn't that punishment enough?

  Both of us satisfied with progress so far, we rejoined the others. They pretty much pounced on him. Amused and, I'll admit it, sort of proud, I stayed back and watched while he fielded questions and brainstormed a new graphic novel series centered around wounded veterans. The guys batted around some pretty outrageous ideas, and the sound of their laughter made me relax, even though my splinted right hand with its two broken fingers was throbbing. Luckily my ankle pain had been fleeting.