She fluttered a hand at him. “Then you should have hidden it better.”
Mekai took Lorre’s shoulders and shook them a little less gently than he had the first time. The man stirred. “I don’t know what’s in that stuff. Something experimental. The dose we gave him then was the last one, according to Bertrand.”
“I see.” She snapped her fingers in front of her father’s face. “Anton! Daniel! Dad!” She had no idea which name was more likely to rouse the man. In the long weeks she spent in his compound, they’d had few private moments. In a few days on the run, she’d learned more about him than in all the weeks they worked together. That probably wasn’t a good thing. She hadn’t like what she learned.
His eyes fluttered open. The man looked confused. “Where are we?” he asked, though it sounded more like “way-ah-we.”
“Qmart. Pit stop.” Mekai’s tone was brusque, but not unkind. He helped Anton turn his body toward the door and lift out his legs. Just as he was pulling himself to his feet, Mekai suddenly shoved him back into the vehicle. “Get down—both of you.”
Cindy wasn’t one for following barked commands, but she also didn’t want to get shot or taken into custody by government agents, so she grabbed her father’s arm and pulled him onto the floor with her. He landed with his body atop hers, uncomfortably pinning her against the driver’s seat. Ignoring his protests, she wriggled out from under him, leaving him awkwardly positioned with his feet in the seat and his upper body twisted in a heap and wedged between the bucket seats.
She snaked her way over to the sliding door and opened it slightly, trying to see or hear anything about what had caused Mekai to react so strongly. All she could see was the parking lot, a patch of pavement in the sun with shadows moving across it. The sounds were more alarming. Thuds and grunts. Scrapes. A metal object skittering across pavement—maybe a gun? She hadn’t seen Mekai with a gun, but she was sure he’d have at least one. So, who lost their weapon? Mekai or his opponent?
She rolled over awkwardly in the narrow foot space at the front of the bench seat and sat up so she could crawl onto the cushions and see out the windows. Just as she dared to peek out, a body knocked into the window, shaking the entire van. Her father muttered something in a language she didn’t understand.
“Shut up,” she hissed at him, cautiously stretching her neck out again.
The man who had collided with the van had been a short, white man, not Mekai. She hoped that meant Mekai was winning the fight. The next thump came from the front of the vehicle. Cindy spun around in time to see Mekai’s face pressed into the glass of the windshield, his features distorted by the pressure, and a shorter man standing behind him, pulling Mekai’s arm upward and grinning while he did it.
It was the grin that got her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaped to the side of the van, pushed the sliding door open, and threw herself out onto the pavement. Crouched there, she looked around until she spotted the gun she’d heard skitter away earlier. She ran for it, picking it up with two hands—that sucker was heavy—and aimed it at the fighting men. “Stop,” she shouted. Her reedy voice bounced back at her, a rude echo.
The man holding Mekai’s arm looked up. It must have distracted him, her shouting, because Mekai was suddenly free, having elbowed the man in the stomach. He punched the man several times in the stomach and face, but the smaller man refused to fall or yield. Cindy moved the gun around unsteadily, having trouble keeping the weapon trained on the right person in the commotion. Instead, she aimed the gun upward above all their heads and squeezed the trigger as she’d been shown at the gun club when she’d been a young woman.
The gun fired and nearly flung from her small hands in the recoil. The man fighting Mekai looked at her and gave Mekai the opening he’d been waiting for. With an expertise that was efficient and frightening, he pulled something out of his pocket and hit the other man over the head with it. He dropped to the pavement like someone had swept his feet out of under him. His head hit the pavement with an audible bounce, like a dropped bowling bowl. He lay there.
Without hesitating, Mekai dragged the man’s inert form to the other side of the dumpster, then came and took the gun away from Cindy’s now-shaking hands. “That was stupid,” he said and turned to get back in the car. Cindy hurried after him and got back in the vehicle in time to see Mekai unceremoniously pulling her father up by his armpits and shoving him back into the passenger seat. She shut the door and grabbed the safety handle as Mekai sped out of the parking lot, not daring to ask him where they were going.
Leonel’s Home, David’s Castle
“I’m fine, really.” Leonel brushed away David’s fussing hands and got out of the car. “See? It doesn’t even hurt.”
“I don’t understand how this is possible.”
“I already told you. An experimental treatment.” The lie burned the inside of his mouth. In all their years of marriage, Leonel had seldom lied to his husband, and never about anything important. But he had sworn to tell no one about Norah, the child healer. He didn’t believe in lying, but he also believed in keeping his word. These gray moral areas were the hardest part of his new life as an agent of the Department.
David was looking at him, and Leonel wondered if his husband could tell he was not telling the full story. “Can we talk about this inside?” he said, his irritation with David’s hovering solicitude making his question more like a barked command than a query. David didn’t answer. Instead, he shuffled his feet, and Leonel knew in a flash he would find a houseful of family inside waiting for him.
He closed his eyes, pinching his nose as if he could squeeze away the headache trying to form there. He wasn’t up for a party. He wished he was as weak as they had expected. It would have given him an excuse to send them all home so he and David could hash out their future together.
While they still stood in the driveway circling each other like dogs who hadn’t yet met, the front screen door slammed open, and Carlitos came barreling out, followed quickly by all his cousins. Leonel knelt so they could all hug him, and his heart swelled with the joy of their welcome. His daughters were next through the door, each calling back her children, admonishing them not to hurt their abuelita.
“He’s just home from the hospital. Give him some room to breathe.”
All the other children obeyed, but not Carlitos. He laid a hand on Leonel’s chest. “Is it true a bad man shot you?”
Leonel nodded gravely. It hadn’t been a man, but what did the details matter? “Right here,” he said, patting his side.
Carlitos’s eyes grew round and large. “Can I see the bullet hole?”
Leonel looked up at his daughter Estela, Carlitos’s mother, who had her arms crossed over her chest and shook her head dangerously. “I don’t think so, m’ijo. Besides, it’s all bandaged up right now.”
Carlitos looked disappointed, but he gave a quick nod. The gesture mirrored the one David made when he agreed to something he didn’t want. Leonel recognized it and knew Carlos would look for another chance to try and get his way later. Terco como una mula, stubborn, like all los Alvarez.
Carlitos took Leonel’s hand and tugged at him until he followed him toward the house. “Come on, Mami and her sisters have been cooking all day. We’re having tamales.”
After a chaotic but laughter-filled dinner, which Leonel enjoyed more than he thought he could have, even with the weird tense moments, David and their sons-in-law took the children into the backyard to play fútbol. “Playing” was maybe an exaggeration. It amounted to the men standing around drinking beer and watching the children make up their own games with the soccer ball, but there was a lot of laughter and joy, so Leonel figured they could call it whatever they wanted. He watched through the window of the kitchen, feeling unexpectedly melancholy—not quite part of his own family.
Lupita had organized her younger sisters to wash the dishes. Leonel listened to them work and argue behind him while he stared out the window. He hadn’t been
this worried about losing David since he had first transformed. He was so deep into his brooding that he jumped when someone touched his shoulder. It was Lupita, his oldest, the daughter most like him, though she had her father’s eyes. “Are you all right, Mami?”
Leonel sighed. He wasn’t fine. Not really. But neither Lupita nor her sisters could help him.
Lupita pulled up a couple of stools. “Sit down. You need to conserve your strength.”
Leonel laughed, but accepted the stool, grabbing it carefully so as not to break it. “Strength is not the problem, m’ija.”
“We’re all glad your recovery is going so well. Papi had said it would be months before you could take care of yourself, let alone all of us.”
“I was very lucky in more than one way.”
The two sat quietly watching the children play. Leonel always enjoyed watching children walk when they didn’t quite have the skills down pat. It was adorably awkward. Their youngest grandchild was beginning to toddle, and he clung to his father’s leg. Their son-in-law had his head bent down to listen to David, both of their expressions serious and severe. Leonel felt he knew what they were talking about. Would los yernos take David’s side if there were sides to be taken?
He accepted the mug of chocolate Lupita passed to him. It wasn’t quite warm enough, but he knew it was offered in love and drank it anyway. “Your father doesn’t want me to work for the Department anymore,” he blurted out.
Lupita took a noisy sip from her own mug, her eyebrows furrowing in the intense way she had. “But you want to go back?”
Leonel nodded.
“Even though you’ve just been shot?”
“I am fine. But even if I weren’t, I’d still want to go back.” He turned to look his daughter in the face. “For the first time in my life, I’m doing something important. Something that matters to the world. I can make a difference. But not from my kitchen.”
“And Papi doesn’t understand.”
Leonel considered that. He tried to imagine himself in the same spot. Although David’s work had sometimes put him at risk for injury from equipment or a fall from a height, it wasn’t the same as knowing your spouse might get shot while at work. David didn’t even know the full story, about how near he had come to dying, his body taken over by a body-hopping madman.
In all their years together, David’s worst injury had been a shoulder displacement that required physical therapy. And David had always been so protective. That hadn’t gone away when Linda had become a man. David probably still saw his wife as the delicate one, despite all evidence to the contrary.
“No, he doesn’t. And I don’t think he ever will.” Leonel’s voice was thick with emotion. His daughters gave up all pretense of washing the dishes and came to gather around their mother.
Lupita played with her mother’s hair, braiding a strand then letting it fall back apart. “He’s an old-fashioned man, nuestro padre.”
“I don’t know.” When Estela spoke up, they all turned to look at her. Estela was the callada among them, the quiet and watchful middle child, but her family understood that she was a deep thinker. She didn’t blurt out her first thought. When she spoke, she had taken time to think, and it was often worth listening to.
“Papi has already adjusted to a lot, I think. He might be more flexible than we give him credit for.” She gestured out to the yard. “I remember when he wouldn’t even talk to Paul because he wasn’t Mexican and now he’s his favorite yerno among all our husbands. I remember how upset he was when Lupita didn’t quit working and stay home with the twins. But he couldn’t be prouder of her now. Not to mention working things out with Mami when she, um…”
They all laughed at her discomfort. “Went macho?”
“Sprouted a verga?”
“Grew a wang?”
“Got a pito?”
Poor Estela covered her reddening face with both hands, but she was giggling behind them. “All I’m saying is we shouldn’t give up on him. It will take time, but he loves you, Mami. He’ll come around.”
Leonel spread his arms wide to hug all three of his daughters. “I’m so lucky to have you.” He wished he had their faith that David would change his mind.
It was dark by the time their children had gone. Carlitos had refused to get in the car until he caught at least one luciérnaga and David had somehow found a firefly for the boy, though it was not the right time of year. Sometimes Leonel suspected him of keeping a jar of the insects in the garage so he could be the hero at times like this. Really, it was probably his eyes.
David had a way of seeing what others couldn’t. That’s why Leonel still stood in the kitchen, pretending there was something to wash or put away even though his daughters had already done the cleanup. He wished he could just avoid the problem a bit longer, but knew it couldn’t be. He was a coward to try and put it off.
He grabbed two Dos Equis from the refrigerator and carried them out to the living room where David sat in the dark facing a television he had never turned on. After David had taken the beer, Leonel curled up next to him, resting his shoulder against David’s and letting his head fall back on the edge of the sofa, so they were near, but not looking at each other.
“You’re going back, aren’t you?”
Leonel swallowed, guiltily. “Yes.”
“Seguro que te has decidido?”
“I’m sure.”
David put an arm across Leonel’s shoulders then and kissed his temple. Leonel’s heart leaped with the wild hope that he could have both his chosen career and his husband, that this wasn’t an ultimatum. Then he felt the tear slide down from David’s cheek onto his own.
David stood, setting his untouched beer on the end table and walked quietly to the bedroom. He emerged ten minutes later, a gym bag in his hand. Leonel still sat on the sofa, concentrating on the memory of David’s lips on his temple, unable to convince himself to move.
“I will always love you, Linda.” David stood for a long moment before he opened the door and walked through it. Leonel squeezed the arm of the couch so hard, it collapsed under his hand, but he didn’t cry out or chase David into the street. A toda costa, he whispered to himself, praying it was worth it.
Sally Ann and the Dream Team
“Flygirl, obviously,” Sally Ann said. “It’s got some style, unlike Unusual Cases Unit, which sounds like a bad television show. Besides, it’s what the tech team already calls you.”
Jessica didn’t look thrilled at the thought. “It’s cute from Walter, but this is my public face. Shouldn’t I have a more dignified name?”
Sally Ann looked over at the blue and white uniform hanging on the back of the office door. “I’m not sure dignity is the point.”
“I understand that I’m the razzle-dazzle distraction as much as anything here, but still, kids are going to be watching. I want to get this right.”
“I’m sure the Director will go along with whatever you choose. He’s thrilled you’re willing to play ball.”
“I still have to tell my mother and the boys.”
Sally Ann stood up, picked up her bag, and opened the door, pausing there a moment. “We can talk more later. I’ve got to check in. We’ve brought Dr. Harvey into protective custody. Driver’s in Indiana. I’ve got to check in with Financial about the tracking of those stolen jewels.”
“Is Dr. Harvey all right?”
“He’s scared, but he’s tougher than he looks. He wants to see The Six brought in as much as we do. Walter’s practically wetting himself with excitement over Harvey’s research.”
Jessica ignored the poke at her boyfriend and flew up to grab her uniform off the door. Flipping it over her arm, she ran a hand down the shiny striping that ran down the legs. “I’d feel better if Leonel and Patricia were in on this, too.”
“You know Leonel has a long recovery to look forward to.”
“Maybe not so long,” said a voice from behind her in the hall.
“Leonel, what are you doing here
?” Jessica sounded joyful and worried at the same time.
Sally Ann was shocked. She ushered them all back into the room and pulled out a chair, shoving the man into it. “Sit down. What are you doing out of the hospital?” Leonel let her push him into the seat, even though he was twice her size and exponentially stronger.
“I’m a fast healer,” he said, shrugging. The shrug didn’t make him wince. He twisted around in his chair to see if anyone else was in the room, a move that should have had him passed out on the floor and possibly bleeding. Not a sign of distress.
Sally Ann gaped. She’d once been shot herself—in the shoulder—and, though she had healed completely, it had taken nearly a year to do so, and she still winced when she thought about those months. Leonel had been unconscious in his hospital bed not two days earlier. The doctors had said it would be weeks before he could leave the hospital and months before he could expect to live normally again. Sally Ann had been trying to work out what she would say to him when he was up for the conversation, how she would apologize for not foreseeing his kidnapping and stopping it from happening.
She leaned across the table and pointed at Leonel’s expansive chest. “No one is that fast a healer.”
“I might have had a little help.” He reached over and poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table. The two women stared at him until he blushed. “Listen. I can’t tell you about the help I got. I promised.”
Jessica patted his shoulder. “We understand.” She turned and gave Sally Ann a meaningful look. “Don’t we?”
Sally Ann dodged the kick under the table, pulling her legs up into the seat with her. “Sure, sure. We understand.” Just because Leonel couldn’t or wouldn’t tell her this secret didn’t mean she wouldn’t find out.
“But Jessica wanted me to get on board with something. What’s going on?”
Face the Change (Menopausal Superheroes Book 3) Page 13