“Mom only has a few days left. It’s Felicia’s last chance to say good-bye.”
He narrowed his eyes, judging her honesty.
Ron looked around the bar, then back at them. “She’ll be pissed if I just turn her over again.”
“I just want to talk to her. No pushing her anywhere.”
He gave her a skeptical look.
Returning his cynicism, Elizabeth spoke with a low, dry tone. “I can’t force her to change, right?”
“Right,” he said slowly. Then he shrugged. “I could always take her to the hospital myself.”
Elizabeth raised a doubtful brow. “You want to go to a hospital to visit a dying woman?”
He grinned. “No, not really.”
Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. At least he knew himself well enough to be honest.
“Okay.” Ron nodded decisively. “Give me a number to call when I find her.”
“You don’t know where she is?” Elizabeth frowned.
Ron shrugged. “She was going out with friends tonight.”
Alex passed a card over her shoulder and she could see AK MARTIAL ARTS in big, bold letters. “My cell is on the back.”
The guy met Alex’s gaze for a long moment, then nodded as he pocketed the card. “I don’t know how long it’ll take. Give me about an hour or so.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you.”
Alex put a hand at the small of her back and guided her out. The breeze was very nice after the clouds of smoky air inside the bar. “Was giving him your business card a good choice?”
Alex shrugged as he held the truck door open for her. “I know him. He’s the son of one of my parents’ neighbors. We haven’t spoken in years, though. Honestly, if he wants to hurt me, he’s got a more direct line. My parents haven’t moved in thirty-five years.”
As he shut the door and circled the truck, Elizabeth shook her head. For all its growth, Spokane was still a very small world. Alex climbed in beside her and started the engine.
“Where do we wait, then?” Elizabeth warmed her hands under her thighs.
Alex looked down, playing with his keys. “In the bar?”
She shook her head. Too loud, too smoky.
“Or go home?”
Only to leave again? Just the thought of waking any of the kids and saying another tense good-bye nixed that idea.
“We can go to Perkins and have a drink.” He raised a brow and glanced at her.
Crowds of strangers just didn’t appeal right then. She wrinkled her nose.
He grinned. “My apartment isn’t far from here.”
She snorted.
“I can show you my etchings and maybe it’ll be my lucky night.” He waggled his brows as she laughed.
Suddenly loud, angry voices cut through the night. Elizabeth turned and looked through the back window. Several dark shadows were grouped together in an empty lot across the street. The sudden click of the truck door had Elizabeth swinging toward Alex’s empty seat. He swiftly approached the group, running the last few steps. Fumbling with the door latch, Elizabeth hurried after him.
“Dude, this is none of your damn business.” One younger guy blocked Alex, warning him off. A wife-beater showed off his well-defined arms.
“If it was one-on-one, it would be none of my business.” Alex stated calmly. “However, four against a nearly unconscious one is a different story.” Alex walked around the guy, entering the mix.
“You don’t even know the story, man. Just stay back.” Another guy tried to push Alex but Alex easily avoided his hands and stepped around the guy while he was off balance.
“Stories are good. Tell me one.” Alex placed himself to the side of a man kneeling on the ground. He kept the group in clear view, but Elizabeth’s breath caught. This could go so wrong.
“This asshole kept grabbing my girlfriend’s ass, so I’m gonna kick his.” The speaker had a crew cut and blood trailing from his nose. He nodded at one of the women standing in the circle around them.
“No I didn’t!”
Elizabeth pushed her way to the front, but stayed quiet. Distracting Alex wouldn’t be a good thing right now. She followed the boyfriend’s glance to a woman with long, permed brown hair, tight hip-huggers, a belly-baring tube top, and an excited gleam in her eye. Apparently, the girlfriend enjoyed being fought over, no matter how much someone else got hurt.
Dallas used to say the best way to see if a man was losing interest was to see if he fought for his girl. This woman seemed to follow the same tenet. Elizabeth pressed her lips and wrapped her arms around herself, struggling to hold in her irritation. The couple would probably go home and have the hottest sex two drunk people could manage and this whole fight would become just another ego-boosting story for them both.
But the man on the ground had the real damage. Both eyes were nearly swollen shut, blood ran steadily from a cut on his forehead, and his arm was wrapped around his torso. He probably had a few bruised or broken ribs. Getting beat down by four guys because of one immature, insecure female meant taking a lot of damage for nothing.
“Well, his ass looks pretty kicked. Your job here is done.” Alex held his hands up peaceably, trying his hardest to diffuse the situation.
“Hell, no. I’m gonna make sure he keeps his hands to himself from now on.” The boyfriend stepped forward, attempting to shoulder Alex out of the way.
Alex stood his ground. It forced the guy to back up. “No. I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Look man, I got the point. You want to stop the fight, but unless you want your ass kicked, move.” The boyfriend squared off in front of Alex, nose to nose, his fists clenched, doing his damnedest to appear intimidating.
Alex didn’t move. Elizabeth growled low in her throat. What was he trying to prove? But then she glanced to the man struggling to rise from the ground and knew Alex wasn’t proving anything. He was trying to keep someone from getting hurt any further. She could support that, as long as he didn’t end up getting himself hurt.
The boyfriend puffed up his chest and shoved. “I said move!”
Alex twisted so the shove glanced ineffectually off his chest. Straightening, he shook his head and quietly said, “Not gonna happen.”
Chapter Twenty
Elizabeth could only stare in horrified fascination as the boyfriend threw a punch at Alex while his friends went for the guy still on the ground, but Alex grabbed his wrist and sent the boyfriend flying into his buddies. The four of them crashed together and hit the dirt.
They rose, angrier than ever, and rushed him as a group. Elizabeth could see Alex’s foot shoot out low while his hands reached into the midst of them, pulling arms and angling wrists and a few other things too quick for her eyes to fully catch. Whatever it was he did, Alex still stood while the others ended up on the ground again.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but be wowed. He wasn’t hitting or fighting at all. The only bruises the guys would go home with were the ones they acquired from falling. Which made Alex even more impressive. Protective and strong, brave enough to face down a group of drunken guys and win, with no one getting hurt.
Until the boyfriend stood, wiped more blood from his nose, and said. “Fuck this.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed as the guy pulled a gun. Elizabeth barely had time to blink before a loud boom sounded in the barely lit field. Alex flinched. The crowd ran. By the time Elizabeth reached Alex’s side, they were nearly alone. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her tight to his side.
“Looks like you know your business.” Ron’s voice came from their left and Elizabeth angled her head, the rest of her unable to move with Alex’s grip so tight.
“Well enough,” Alex said, an odd, rough pitch to his voice.
Elizabeth studied his face, pale in the glow of the passing headlights. She frowned, puzzled until she felt a warm wetness spreading between them. He’d been shot? She gasped and Alex pressed his lips to hers, hard. His eyes were glittering, his message
unmistakable. But why?
“Maybe I should check your dojo out.”
Alex met Ron’s gaze, his expression implacable. “As long as it’s understood there’s only one business on the premises.”
Ron nodded. “That’s a reasonable request.”
Alex raised a brow. “It’s not a request.”
Ron laughed. “Agreed.”
The man with the broken ribs was being helped to his feet by two other guys. He nodded to Alex. “Thanks, man. For the record, I never touched the stupid bitch.”
“No problem.” Alex grinned as if his weight weren’t resting on Elizabeth more and more as the seconds passed. She had her arms wrapped tight around him, hugging him as though she was scared and needed reassurance.
Elizabeth started tugging against Alex, “We need to go.”
Ron nodded. “Yeah. The cops will be here soon. You did nothing wrong, but you’ll be stuck here explaining that all night and probably get arrested anyway. It would suck to be the only man arrested for this.”
“Yeah, it would.” Alex started walking, Elizabeth matching him step for step. He was still mostly under his own steam, but from her bra-line to her hip, they were fused by soaked material. At the truck, he pulled open the driver’s door. “Get in and slide over.”
Elizabeth scowled. “You can’t—”
He exhaled an impatient breath. “I’ll be fine. Just slide in—”
“No.”
“The kids aren’t at risk here, Elizabeth. So please, at least for now, trust me and get in the damn truck.”
He looked impatient and irritated with her, an air of danger surrounding him in the darkness. Whiskers darkened his jaw and his eyes glittered with a hard edge. She wasn’t used to seeing him like this. It was unnerving. But the longer she delayed, the more likely they’d still be here when the cops arrived. Which meant the longer he would have to wait to get patched up since he seemed unwilling to admit to anyone that he was hurt. Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth climbed in, lifted the armrest, and slid over to the passenger’s side.
* * *
Grey light filtered through dingy windows, dimly lighting the bed and the naked man lying there. Ron had said to keep Dave happy, and Felicia had done her job well. Pulling on her silky thong and his long T-shirt, she padded over to the end of the bed and slid down to sit beside the room’s only other piece of furniture—a small wooden end table that held all she would need for the rest of the night.
Grabbing the bottle of water off of it, she took a drink, then leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She had a little time left before Dave would be ready for another go ’round. She exhaled a shaky breath and opened her eyes, willing away the hot sting of tears.
It’s not supposed to be this way.
Felicia held her breath against another hot rush of tears. If she woke Dave, he’d want more and he wouldn’t care if she was crying while he fucked her.
You were never meant to be alone.
Chills broke along her arms as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She wasn’t supposed to be alone. She wasn’t supposed to need drugs in order to stomach sex. She wasn’t supposed to hurt every time she thought of her children.
And yet, she did.
He promised he’d be here to help you, but he’s not. No one is.
Felicia had never been designed for solitude. From the moment of conception, Bobby had been with her. Her twin, her other half. Felicia raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at the ceiling, drawing the light from the window and casting a rainbow of color against the plaster. Watching with a smile as the rainbow split apart, showering sparks of light like fireworks.
She wasn’t hallucinating. She’d already come down from the last hit. Besides, ice didn’t cause these hallucinations. This had been her gift since she and Bobby were little. Only he knew about it.
They’d used to make the most incredible light shows back when only a few feet had separated their beds. She’d called herself Mistress of Light and he’d been Master of Shadows, able to draw shadows into any shape, with any density. He’d always made the ceiling darker as she’d drawn light from an outside lamppost, making her colorful sparks show up even brighter.
It’s not as pretty without him. It’s like only half the show.
Raw grief crushed her chest and she clamped her lips shut, holding in her moans. Her shoulders shook from the strength of her sobs and she tried again to force it away. Dave stirred in the bed, the covers rustling against his legs. Felicia shivered, hugging the shirt around her as she held her breath. Please, not yet. She wasn’t ready.
He stilled, his snores returning. She eyed the glass pipe on the table beside two little baggies of clear crystals and a tiny scoop. Dave had emptied his pockets and shared a few hits with her hours earlier. Felicia picked up a bag of meth and struggled with the Ziploc at the top. She wouldn’t have much longer, and if he touched her while she wasn’t stoned … she shuddered.
Bobby had been trying to help her the first time he’d brought a joint home. He hadn’t realized what he was beginning for them both, or that he’d cause a greater pain than the one already killing her.
Stupid boy. He should have known what bringing home drugs would do.
Maybe. But until they were fifteen, they’d shared everything. Then she’d been raped. He couldn’t share that.
He didn’t wanted to share your suffering. He’d only wanted to shut you up.
No! Everything in her balked at that thought. She knew. She remembered.
Dave’s snores slowed, then stopped. He’d wake up soon.
How sad that you still have to get stoned before you can bear another man’s touch.
Felicia grabbed the baggie off the table, spilling them onto the table where she could use the scoop to put some at the bubble-shaped end of her pipe. Flicking her lighter on, she gently rolled the glass bowl over the flame, side to side so it wouldn’t burn and taste horrible. She hiccupped and more tears poured from her eyes, blurring the melting crystals until they looked like a snowy blanket.
Yes, it really was sad. She hated it, but the alternative was unbearable. She’d already endured enough pain, she couldn’t stand withdrawals on top of it. Dave stirred again and she hurriedly lowered her lips to the pipe, inhaling and quickly blowing out.
Another puff or two and she’d be okay.
But you’re still alone and that’s never okay for you. Bobby left you to suffer by yourself yet again.
Felicia relaxed back her head against the wall, her hands fallen to the floor. She stared straight ahead, her gaze glassy and unfocused.
Maeve stepped back and smiled. That had been too easy. Still enjoyable, but easy. The man stirred on the bed just as the pipe fell from Felicia’s hand.
Tossing back the covers, he strode into the bathroom, not bothering with a light. Maeve’s lips curled contemptuously at his rude noises. After a few minutes, he returned to the room and stared at Felicia’s eyes. He sighed.
“I want my shirt back.” Turning his back, Dave pulled his pants on. When he turned back, Felicia was convulsing. Swearing, he checked the empty bags on the table, and cussed more. Pocketing what was left, he rushed to the door. Felicia had fallen still. Dave shook his head and pulled the door shut.
“Stupid bitch.”
Alex shut his door, started the truck, and was already pulling away as Elizabeth buckled her seat belt. She almost reminded him to buckle his until she realized the seat belt would press against his wound. But wouldn’t pressure be good? Something about his grim silence kept her from trying. They were around the corner and down the block before she even heard sirens. Alex calmly continued on, his face forbidding, but his hands relaxed on the wheel.
When they were a few blocks away, she’d had enough of the silence. “Why won’t you go to a hospital?”
“Because I don’t need one. Elizabeth—”
“What kind of macho bullshit is that?” At least he was driving straight, seemingly in control. Would h
e pass out? Elizabeth eyed the driver’s side of the cab, planning each move she would have to make to take control if he did.
Alex took a deep breath and whistled it through clenched teeth. “Apparently the kind I have to show you.”
“What?” Was the blood loss making him delusional now? She reached over and felt his forehead for a fever.
He shrugged her away, batting her hand in irritation. “Believe me, this was not my preferred way of doing this. A quiet atmosphere, a soundproofed room …”
“Alex!”
“A gag …”
She growled loudly. He pulled into the parking lot of some apartments and she reined her temper in. She prayed she wouldn’t lose him because she’d had to go looking for her drug-addicted sister. Her breath whooshed out like she’d been punched. In her vision she’d watched him slowly disappear into a grave.
God, she hated her father’s visions. She always failed to prevent them. Always. Rushing out of the truck and around to his side, Elizabeth helped him climb the stairs to the apartment Alex pointed out, unlocked the door for him, and kicked it shut behind them. She barely kept him from falling over until they reached his bed.
Alex pulled off his shirt and scrunched it under him as Elizabeth turned on the overhead light. When she returned to his side, his head was on a pillow and his eyes were closed. His skin was so pale, almost translucent. Bile burned at the back of her throat.
“You need a doctor.” Alex ignored her, his body tense, his eyes squeezed shut. No doubt trying to control the pain as much as a macho, brain-dead male could without hospitals and anesthesia and painkillers. Gasping for breath, Elizabeth rushed to his bathroom and scrambled around for anything that seemed like it would help. A clean towel, bandages. “I don’t understand your hesitation, Alex. You could die.”
Elizabeth blinked away the prick of tears, washed her hands, and hurried back to him. Alex’s eyes were open as she knelt by the bed.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” he gasped.
“What?” Elizabeth shook her head and scowled, wiping away some of the blood so she could see the bullet wound. It was dark and red, jagged around the edges. Blood gushed from it in a thick trickle. She nearly gagged.
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