Part 12 (1/2)
”Get this, Steve. I know a thousand ways to kill you, and I'm only letting you live because I need a messenger, and you're here. You ride on back to Dwight. Tell him to write the bar off and move on. All I wanted that day was a beer. He called the play by accusing me of being a cop.” Reyes let that sink in. ”Do I look look like a cop to you?” like a cop to you?”
”No, sir,” Steve gabbled.
”If he sends anyone else after me and mine, I go scorched earth on this. Not just Dwight, I'm talking his friends, his family, anybody who ever looked at him kindly.” Reyes bent, letting the other man look into his eyes for a full minute. ”Are we clear?”
Whatever he'd seen, it made him shudder. ”Crystal.”
”Get out.”
Steve scrambled out the door on hands and knees. The tool he'd used to pop the door lay forgotten on the floor, right beside Kyra. G.o.ddammit, he hadn't put the chain on for her when he went back to his room. Reyes did that first and then knelt beside her. She'd curled into the fetal position on her side, so tightly coiled that he was afraid she'd hurt herself. A soft little whine came from her throat, like that of a wounded animal.
Looking at her, he didn't think she'd been injured enough to warrant this reaction. Something weird was going on, something really weird. He touched her shoulder lightly.
”Kyra, it's over. He's gone.”
Nothing. But she tucked her face farther, brought her knees up higher. Shudders ran through her in deep waves, almost like a convulsion. That scared the s.h.i.+t out of him.
”Did he drug you?”
With the lamps broken, he wouldn't be able to see a tiny pinp.r.i.c.k. Jesus, what if she was going into anaphylactic shock? Helplessness swamped him. He had no experience with rescuing people or helping in their time of need. The trick with the cord was more his forte.
”Come on, Kyra. Talk to me, baby. What's wrong? What do you need?”
”Bathroom,” he thought she whispered, but it was hard to tell through her chattering teeth.
Okay, that he could do. Reyes scooped her up, ran to the tiny lavatory, and flicked on the light. He started to put her in the tub, but she shook her head, eyes wide and wild. He'd never seen anything like her expression right now, blanched almost to bone and sick as death. Bewildered, he set her down and she fell to her knees beside the toilet. The dinner he'd cooked came up in a liquid rush.
”Do you need to go to the emergency room?” he asked.
”Get out!” she demanded, wiping her mouth. ”Go!”
Then the next wave hit her. As she vomited, she sobbed. Since she'd gone to sleep in a ponytail she didn't even need him to hold her hair back, and she clearly wanted him gone. So he grabbed the ice bucket and stepped outside. The balcony was clear. If he'd moved on the a.s.shole when he'd noticed him earlier, this wouldn't have happened, but he couldn't go around killing people for potential offenses. He didn't want to leave her even for a minute, but she might want cold water or ice chips when she finally recovered. If she did.
When he returned, he found her huddled beside the toilet, wracked with dry heaves. Her eyes were red with weeping, her nose running, and she smelled disgusting. Quietly, he wet a wash-cloth, added a touch of her coconut bath gel, and then began to wash her face. It warmed him when she didn't pull away.
”Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she said, gazing up at him with dull, wrecked eyes. ”Why didn't you kill him? I wish to G.o.d you had.”
That was the last thing he expected to hear, and it sent a shock of unease through him. Reyes was no stranger to taking human life; he did it for a living after all, but it was a job to him, not something that gave him pleasure. He'd started on the path inside, after he went down for raping a white girl, one with money, who liked it rough and then when she realized the enormity of what they'd done-and what it said about her particular tastes-recanted her consent.
They'd come at him hard, but after he killed the third inmate in as many months, a child-molester that time, they'd accorded him some respect. And it felt good, good, taking out some sc.u.mbag. At that point, he started wondering whether he could turn that rush into an entrepreneurial venture. taking out some sc.u.mbag. At that point, he started wondering whether he could turn that rush into an entrepreneurial venture.
”Why?”
She didn't seem to hear him, just mumbling into s.p.a.ce. ”It's a funny thing, touch. Sometimes I get something good, other times, not so much. You know what he was best at? Rape. But when he touched me, he lost his wood. That's why he was so p.i.s.sed at me . . . he couldn't do it to me like he planned when I had his mojo. But now . . . now, it's what I'm I'm good at.” And she began to cry, long l.u.s.ty sobs that broke his heart, even though he had no idea in h.e.l.l what she was talking about. good at.” And she began to cry, long l.u.s.ty sobs that broke his heart, even though he had no idea in h.e.l.l what she was talking about.
”Kyra . . . , sweetheart, you're not making sense.”
But he couldn't get anything else out of her; she just cried quietly, tears slipping down her face. Even though he didn't like to risk staying the night here-let alone three nights like they'd planned-because Steve might have called in their location, he couldn't just bundle her into the Marquis and take off. He didn't know where they were going for one thing. Reyes was sure she had some destination in mind, however meandering their route had been thus far.
Morning light would have to be soon enough. He'd stay awake in case of trouble. Kyra let him brush her teeth and comb her hair. It wasn't a shower, but he didn't think she needed to be handled further in her condition. He'd never seen anything like it, except in women who survived the harshest battlefield conditions, and possibly . . . those who'd been raped.
But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d hadn't done that. Reyes was sure he'd gotten there in time. Puzzled, he lifted her into his arms and took her back to the bedroom. This bed had been violated, though, so he carried her on through to the connecting room. He went back for her stuff and locked the door from his side. They wouldn't be going back in there.
Kyra had a thing about being touched, he reasoned. Maybe having a strange man break into her bedroom and grab her had all the traumatic weight of a rape. Reyes settled against the headboard and pulled her into his arms. She didn't fight him, just settled her head on his chest. His heart gave a queer squeeze.
”I don't understand what's wrong,” he finally whispered. ”And I can't help if I don't understand. I feel like I'm missing something here. Can you explain?”
”You'd never believe me.”
”Maybe I'll surprise you.”
”You always surprise me,” she admitted. She finally sounded close to coherent. ”I'm sorry about your dinner. Sometimes I can't help it. Touching the wrong people makes me sick.”
Reyes couldn't believe she'd just apologized for puking. He waved that away, feeling like he was on the verge of figuring her out. She'd said, Now it's what I'm best at, Now it's what I'm best at, after the guy had touched her. Reyes had forgotten something key, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and it would be better if she confided in him. after the guy had touched her. Reyes had forgotten something key, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and it would be better if she confided in him.
”Tell me why.”
CHAPTER 15.
Kyra closed her eyes. Maybe that would make it easier. After everything she'd put him through tonight, she owed him an explanation.
”It doesn't work with you anymore,” she began. ”But the first time I touched you, I stole your ability to fight. You may even have noticed the theft, felt sick or slightly dazed. Sometimes people do, depending on their sensitivity. The loss isn't permanent . . . I never know how long I'll have a talent, so I generally work fast after I've tapped a mark.”
She felt him stiffen against her and waited for the derision. When she was a kid, she'd confided in a couple of people, despite her dad's insistence it was a bad idea and would cost them their edge in the game, but it never worked out. They always thought she was a liar, and over the years, she'd stopped trying.
”So . . . I didn't didn't imagine it,” he said slowly. imagine it,” he said slowly.
She lifted her head, surprised. ”You noticed.”
”I did, the first few times. But it started to slack off, and then eventually, nothing happened at all, so I thought I'd hallucinated the whole thing.”
Kyra looked puzzled. ”That's new. I've never had it stop working before.”
”Which means you can't touch without stealing something.”
”Yeah.” He couldn't know how depressing that thought became. ”And if I make contact with too many marks, take in too much, it feels like my head's going to explode.”
”That's why you're so careful about touching people.”
”I can't believe you haven't said I'm crazy yet.” She shook her head.
”Well...” He smiled. ”You are, but not because of this. I'll be honest . . . if I hadn't noticed some of this stuff on my own, I wouldn't believe you. But you've given me proof that's hard to deny. You kicked that guy's a.s.s in the convenience store using my my moves. There's no way you could've learned those independently. You hardly knew me.” moves. There's no way you could've learned those independently. You hardly knew me.”
”You saw that.” She sat up. ”How come you didn't help me?”
”It seemed like you had the situation under control.” Rey sank his hands into her hair, smoothing it gently with his fingers. ”So this . . . ability . . . how does it work? Is it random? Do you have any idea why you can do this?”