Fever

by Joan Swan

  “He’s already got a life sentence, Mitch—”

  “Then I’m going to nail his ass to the electric chair. He picked the wrong people to fuck with. I’ve got my best two investigators on your trail, Lys. We’ll find you soon. Here’s Dad.”

  A moment of silence passed before her father came on the line. “Lyssie, baby? You there?”

  “Yeah, Dad—” A thick shot of emotion clogged her throat. She swallowed past it, but her voice still came out rough. “I’m here.”

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  “What can we do, baby?” His voice was smooth and calm, but Alyssa heard the hidden fear. “How can we help?”

  Tears burned her eyes. “You can take care of yourself, Dad. I called to let you know that I’m all right so you won’t stress. I want you to take your medicine and do what Mitch tells you to do.”

  Creek lifted a hand beside her and snapped his fingers to get her attention, then made a cutting gesture over his throat.

  “For God’s sake, Lys,” her father continued. “Don’t worry about me.” Her mother’s voice droned in the background, running over her father’s, which was probably where Mitch had picked up the habit. “Hang tough, sweetheart. I love you. Here’s your mother.”

  “What? No, Dad wait—”

  “Alyssa Naoko.” Alyssa flinched at her mother’s harsh voice. “Didn’t I tell you not to take that job? Those ridiculous hours, that low-life population and crime-ridden city ...”

  In her peripheral vision, Alyssa saw Creek’s head whip toward her. She swore she could feel the heat of his stare on her face.

  “Mom, please—”

  “But do you ever listen? No. You always have to be the best. You always have to go after the biggest challenge. One day, young lady, one day, that hard head of yours will get you—”

  Creek jabbed at the receiver, hitting the disconnect button. Startled, Alyssa looked up at him. His brow was a tight vee of wrinkles, and the dark spark in his eye reminded her of when they’d first met.

  “You just hung up on my mother,” Alyssa said, caught between shock and anger.

  “She deserved it.” He stuffed the phone between the driver’s seat and the center console. “How is it that I can’t say ‘boo’ to you without raising your hackles, yet she can ream you without even a tap on the wrist?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “You’ve been kidnapped by a convicted murderer and she yells at you like it’s your fault?” Anger seethed through his words. “That’s no way for a parent to act. It’s no wonder you’re a daddy’s girl.”

  A different kind of emotion tightened Alyssa’s chest. Only Mitch and her father had ever pushed her mother back during one of her famous tirades. But Teague hadn’t only pushed her back, he’d knocked her out.

  Teague. Alyssa realized it was the first time she’d thought of him by his first name.

  The car went over a dip in the road, jolting Alyssa. Her ribs compressed and released, punching a burst of pain through her abdomen. The cuffs on her wrist jangled against the door, and reality rushed back in a hard smack.

  She sat in a stolen car, handcuffed to the door with a convicted murderer-slash-arsonist, headed for God only knew where for no coherent reason—

  Arsonist.

  Alyssa’s head turned sharply toward Teague.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Your ... whatever it is ... ability-thing. You said you can’t control it. It gets out of hand when you’re angry. Is that what happened? With your girlfriend?”

  He looked at her in pissed-off confusion. Then her meaning clicked. His face smoothed into a mask of indifference.

  “Naoko?” he changed the subject again. “You lied about your last name, too? Are you even a doctor?”

  “Naoko is my middle name, genius.” Alyssa’s teeth gnashed. “Talk about evasion. You’re a master.”

  “Japanese?”

  “And Philippino and Irish and Italian, yes. You have a problem with that?”

  “No, I don’t have a problem with that,” he snapped right back, “but I would have guessed Hawaiian or Hispanic or, yeah, maybe Italian. You don’t look Asian.”

  “I did to Taz. And what’s with those tattoos of yours? The ones that fade? Did you use black henna? Do you realize that stuff seeps through your skin and poisons your bloodstream? You’re not going to have to worry about an electric chair. You’ve probably shortened your life span fifty years with that stuff.”

  “It’s not black henna, genius. It’s ink from a plant that grows in the rainforest. Completely harmless.”

  “How in the hell did you get ink like that in prison? And why waste your time if they’re going to wash off?”

  “You can get anything you want in prison, if you know how to go about getting it. And, inside, fitting in is more important than anything else. Being who they expect you to be means life or death.” He changed gears again. “Does Naoko mean something?”

  Alyssa snorted. “Obedient.”

  “That conversation makes a whole lot more sense now.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone got something out of it.” Other than heartache. Alyssa always got plenty of that from her mother.

  “What about your brother? You said he’s a defense attorney, but he was mouthing off about prosecution.”

  “He used to work for the D.A. Still has friends and contacts there.”

  “Let me get this straight. I not only have the cops after me for escaping, but the F.B.I. for kidnapping, and now private investigators have jumped on the bandwagon.”

  “Sounds like.” She let her head rest against the seat, suddenly exhausted despite the fact that she’d slept deeply and dreamlessly the night before.

  “And on top of that,” he continued, “I’ve committed a dozen felonies in the last twenty-four hours, all of which you’ve witnessed.”

  “I’ll say anything you want me to say. I could have suffered stress-induced amnesia after everything I’ve been through. I just want to get back to my life.”

  A combination of nausea and fatigue washed over her like a wave. Had to be the stress, the anxiety, the frustration. She needed to sleep it off. Yes. Sleep. The perfect solution. She could escape Teague, his questions, his comments, his stupid scheming, her own worry, maybe even this damned gnawing pain that seemed to spread through her body.

  “This is just beautiful. Your brother was sure right about one thing. I certainly did choose the wrong person—or people—to fuck with.”

  “I don’t know why I bother talking. No one listens to me outside hospital walls.” She wiped at the dampness on her forehead with her free hand and closed her eyes. “I meant what I said to my brother—enough with the swearing already.”

  Alyssa didn’t know how long she’d been asleep. In some ways it felt like days; in others it felt like she hadn’t slept at all. She couldn’t get comfortable. Couldn’t figure out if she wanted to scream or sleep. Couldn’t decide whether she was hot or cold. Couldn’t keep her mind firmly in consciousness. Couldn’t let herself slip into the deep abyss she so desperately wanted.

  She scooted her shoulders sideways against the poorly padded surface behind her, shifted her butt against the seat and whimpered at the rip of pain along her side. With her knees pulled up toward her chest, hands clasped between her thighs, she laid her cheek against the cool surface and relaxed again.

  A shiver rocked her from shoulders to hips. Her muscles tightened against the spasm and pain rocketed through her body. She grimaced and moaned.

  “We’re here.” A cool hand swept across her cheek, brushing her hair back, smoothing away the film of sweat she hadn’t realized was there until it was gone. “Wake up, beauty.”

  Oh, that voice. Smooth and deep and filled with compassion. The one that had been crooning to her as they drove. Although she couldn’t remember what he’d said, she knew it made her melt into the surface beneath her. And that voice was connected to
the hand whose thumb now stroked her temple, whose fingers combed the heavy strands off her neck allowing cool air to bathe her hot skin.

  Movement ceased, and Alyssa came slowly to full consciousness as the comforting touch abandoned her. Her eyes opened to a dull, muted canvas of gray. Gray asphalt, gray storefronts, gray sky. Dark gray mountains in the distance covered in a lighter gray snow. She was looking out a car window at the only splash of color in the whole dang landscape, a red neon sign screaming PET EMPORIUM.

  Her stomach dropped. She was in the same car she’d been in that morning, with the same man who’d destroyed her life the day before. She glanced over her shoulder as he pulled into a parking space, killed the engine and pulled on the baseball hat. Confusion mottled her brain. “What are we doing?”

  He ignored her, got out and rounded the car. Alyssa shifted in her seat and whimpered at the discomfort erupting from every cell in her body. He opened her door and unlocked the cuff on her wrist.

  Frigid air snuck in, floated over the sweat filming her body and made her shiver hard. “My God, it’s cold out there. Where are we?”

  “That much closer to where we’re going.”

  “And where would that be?”

  He pressed the back of his hand to her throat, his eyes sharp in concentration. “It’s getting worse.”

  His comment brought everything into focus—her pains, her sweats, her chills. “I have a fever.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s worse than that. Sit up. Let me look at the stitches again.” He didn’t wait for permission, simply pulled her shirt up and eased the bandage back.

  Alyssa peered down at the red welts forming a pattern around the nylon he’d used to stitch her. “Damn, they’re infected.” She winced and dropped her head against the seat. “I can’t believe this. I need a hospital and you bring me to a pet store.”

  “Sonofa—”

  “Stop swearing. It’s the least you can do if you’re not going to let me go.”

  “Now do you see how pathetic my so-called abilities are?”

  “Refreshing to see you embracing your uniqueness, Creek.” She pushed his hand away and tugged down her shirt. Now she felt guilty for making him feel bad. This was so ridiculous. “May just be a reaction to the nylon.”

  “Nylon, my ass. You don’t get a raging fever from a reaction to nylon. You think I’m an idiot?”

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “Come on.” He gripped her arm, encouraging her to move. “Let’s go.”

  As she lifted her head off the seat, a roll of nausea rumbled through her belly. “Go in without me. I feel sick.”

  He reached across and unclicked her seatbelt. The heat of his body drifted over her. The lingering scent of soap and maleness filled her nose. Surprisingly, both soothed the queasiness.

  “No way,” he said. “Even as sick as a dog, you’d run given the chance.” His eyes flicked toward her with a spark of humor. “No pun intended.”

  “Ha-ha. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m getting impatient with this whole escape-plan-gone-wrong thing. What could you possibly need in a pet store?”

  He propped both hands on the Honda’s roof and looked down at her. “Just so we’re really clear, this will not be a repeat of your Walmart escapade. You will not—”

  “Don’t lecture me.” She pulled at the edges of her sweat jacket and crossed them over her chest, searching for warmth.

  “I’m reminding you.”

  “Like I need reminding?” A burst of anger gave her the strength to sit up and glare at him. “I’m reminded every damn second I’m awake. I’m reminded every damn time I try to move.”

  “Which is why we’re here. I’m going to get something to help you.” He tugged on her hand. She tugged back. “The more you resist, the longer it will take to get where we’re going, which in turn means the longer it will take for this to end.”

  An end to this nightmare—now there was something she could focus on.

  “Touch me, first.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her abdomen. It was big and warm and strong. Heat traveled through his palm and fingers and into Alyssa’s side, spreading much-needed relief through her torso. With one hand pressed over his, she slid the other up his forearm searching for more warmth. She found it, in supple muscle and soft skin. “You need to bottle this. It’s amazing.”

  “I’ll get right on that.” He drew her from the seat, supporting her with his arm at her waist.

  “How long ’til we stop for more than ten minutes?”

  “About an hour.”

  “And when will this all be over?” she asked as they approached the entrance. “When will you let me go?”

  He didn’t answer.

  A young woman with her dark hair in a ponytail greeted them. “Can I help you find something?”

  “Fish,” Creek said.

  “Along the back wall,” she said, gesturing. “Fresh water on the right and salt water on the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Teague led Alyssa past the cash register where a young man sat talking on the phone, a newspaper spread out on the counter in front of him. He glanced up as they passed and returned his gaze to the paper, hardly more than an uninterested blink. Just as Alyssa looked away, the man’s eyes jumped up again. She continued to watch him from the corner of her eye as the conversation on his end of the phone ceased, and he slowly pushed to his feet.

  They turned down an aisle and Alyssa lost sight of him, but by the way his eyes grew wide as they’d disappeared, she was sure he’d recognized them. Instead of excitement, the sighting brought apprehension.

  Creek turned and looked down at her, his steps slowing. “What?”

  “Wh-what do you mean, what?”

  “You squeezed my hand.”

  “I didn’t ... I mean, I didn’t mean to... .” She was torn between pulling him from the store and stalling to keep them there as long as possible. This was exactly what she’d been silently begging for at Walmart and here it had been handed to her without even trying. “Never mind. Nothing.”

  She turned her attention to the shelves where he’d stopped and stared at the contents in disbelief. “You brought me in here to buy fish food?”

  “Little trivia for you, doc.” He crouched and picked up a bottle. “Fish ailments are treated with human medications. Antibiotics.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her mind temporarily veered from her turmoil. “You expect me to take off-the-shelf medication for fish? Okay, this nails it, Cr—” She stopped herself and forced his first name out of her mouth. “Teague. You are officially certifiable.”

  A grin tilted his mouth as he looked up at her and something strange and uncomfortable twisted in her chest. His teeth were straight and white, his eyes a sparkling blue beneath the hat’s dark brim. A glimpse of someone else shone out at her. Maybe the man he was beneath the fear and desperation. Maybe the man he’d been before he’d gone to prison. She didn’t know, but whoever it was touched her in a way she hadn’t been touched in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said. “The emergency room would have asked too many questions and then called the cops to report a knife wound. Internet sources would take too long, and I’m not in the mood to knock off a vet’s office. So.” He pointed at two more bottles on the shelf. “You have your choice of Amoxicillin, Erythromycin or a sulfa-combo. What’ll it be?”

  Curiosity won out and Alyssa took one of the bottles from him. Sure enough, as far as she could tell, it was the same stuff she’d given out prescriptions for in the past. “How is this legal?”

  “Let’s not worry about that right now. Just tell me which one you can take and we’ll get back on the road.”

  That comment had her looking up and toward the front of the store. The two young clerks loitered there talking, their heads together, body language hunched and tight.

  “Well?” Teague prodded.

  He’d truly made this stop to hel
p her. He’d risked being seen just to find antibiotics for her infection. So many thoughts zoomed through her head at the same time, she couldn’t prioritize or sift. She looked back at him. “Do you have that gun on you or is it in the car?”

  His face tensed, eyes sharpened. He glanced in the direction she’d been looking and watched the clerks. “I have it on me. Why?”

  Let me make one thing very clear: I am not going back to prison. Ever. I’ll die first.

  “I think we should go.” Alyssa pulled him toward the opposite end of the aisle.

  He resisted. “Why the rush?”

  “Come on.”

  He pulled on her hand until she was forced to turn back around and face him. “Talk to me first.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think they recognized us.”

  Teague’s mouth went stone hard as his bright eyes scoured the store. Pocketing several bottles, he urged Alyssa toward the rear corner of the building.

  “Where are you going? The front doors are that way.”

  “Which is exactly where the cops will come in if they’ve been called.”

  They reached a single rear door with a banner reading, NO EXIT. FIRE ALARM WILL SOUND. Teague tinkered with a lever on the big red bell over the door, then pressed the metal bar. Alyssa cringed, expecting an ear-piercing alarm, but it never came. Teague poked his head out the door, took a quick look around, then pulled her out behind him.

  “Keep your head down.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “Walk straight to the car without looking around.”

  Tires crunched on the asphalt nearby. Teague’s hand lifted from her shoulder and gently pressed the back of her head. He leaned in nuzzling her temple. Despite the urgency of the situation, a delicious shiver trickled down her neck.

  “Don’t look up,” he murmured, his voice intensifying the tingle. “Keep walking.”

  The police car darted through the parking lot and angled in at the front double doors of Pet Emporium. Another car appeared within seconds.

  Teague opened the passenger’s door of the Honda and eased Alyssa into the seat. Sirens whined in the distance. Without cuffing her, he shut her door and rounded the car. He slid into the driver’s seat, reached below the dash and fiddled with wires. A flash of light burst from the darkness of the floorboard, and Alyssa jumped.