Part 11 (2/2)

A force yanked him back with a furious vengeance. He hit the wall on the other side of the alley and slumped down.

Striker leapt out of the shadows. My heart swelled. I had never been so grateful to see anyone in my entire life.

”Let her go.” His voice was harsh, demanding, furious.

”No need to get all heroic, bro,” one of the men said. ”There's plenty here to share.”

Striker didn't respond. His gloved hands tightened into fists.

”If that's the way you want to play it, bro, we're game.”

The two men jumped at Striker. My knees buckled with relief, and I slid to the ground.

Seconds after that, so did the men.

Fists pummeled flesh. A tooth clinked away into the darkness. Bones snapped like dry twigs. The men whimpered for mercy.

I struggled to my feet. My vision clouded over, and I squinted through the fog. Striker towered over the three men, who curled into fetal positions. The leather-clad superhero stepped over them and came to me.

”Are you okay, Carmen?” His voice sounded gentle, concerned.

”I'm fine, Striker.” For some reason, I felt unnaturally calm. Disjointed even, as though I was standing outside my own body.

”I-”

”I said I'm fine. I'm going to go home now. Good night.”

I grabbed my purse and pepper spray, and hobbled down the alley and onto the main street. I didn't turn around to see if Striker was following me. He was. I could feel his eyes on me. A taxi cruised by. Where the h.e.l.l had the cabbie been five minutes ago? I lurched into the street, waved my hands, and flagged down the car.

”Are you all right, lady?” The driver stared at me in the rearview mirror.

”Fine. Just drive.” I gave him my address.

I stared at the back of his bald head, thinking of nothing in particular. Lights and streets whizzed by, but I couldn't quite focus on them. Ten minutes later, the taxi pulled up to my building. I paid him and got out. Every movement hurt, stabbing through some of the strange, calm coc.o.o.n that wrapped around my mind. I brushed by the doorman, who gave me a bored look, and got into the elevator. I concentrated on the b.u.t.tons. Five more floors. Three. Two. One. The elevator pinged open. I cringed at the sound and dashed to my apartment. My hands shook as I put the key in the lock.

KarmaGirl.

I went through the apartment, double-checking to make sure every window was locked. I bolted the door and dragged a chair in front of it. Then, I stripped off my clothes and threw them away. I wanted nothing to remind me of this night and what had almost happened. Nothing.

I got into the shower. The white tile cooled my burning feet. I turned the water on full blast as hot as it would go and scrubbed everything hard-three times. I leaned against the shower wall. The water cascaded over me. The steady hiss blocked everything out. Everything except my memories of the last hour. Blood mixed with the water around my feet.

I got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a pair of plaid, fleece pajamas. I peered at my face in the bathroom mirror. The would-be rapists had split my lip open with their slaps, and a nasty-looking, purple bruise had formed under my right eye. I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth. No loose teeth, though. I dabbed some ointment on my swollen face, took a couple of aspirin, and turned out the light.

After triple-checking the door and windows, I padded into the bedroom and put my stun gun and pepper spray underneath my pillow. They hadn't done me much good before, but I wanted them near. I drew back the comforter, snuggled underneath the soft sheets, and curled into a tight ball.

As I lay there, the rest of my odd calm cracked and flaked and peeled away, like old paint chipping off a house. The alley. The men. Their hands on me. The images invaded my mind, whirling round and round like a kaleidoscope. Then, the tears came, slowly at first, trickling out of the corner of my eyes like a leaky faucet. I did nothing to hold them back. I couldn't have, even if I'd wanted to. Soon, my whole body shook with intense sobs and m.u.f.fled cries. The enormity of what had almost happened hit me like a tidal wave.

Even though I'd escaped being raped, I would never be the same. Before, I'd roamed around the city at all hours of the day and night, never really worrying about the danger. Getting mugged, getting raped, getting murdered, those things happened to other people. Never to me or anyone I knew. I'd always felt relatively safe. Or at least before Frost and his goons had kidnapped me. Even that had been a fluke, a freakish, once-in-a-lifetime event. What had happened tonight could happen to me again.

At any time.

In any city.

Now, I would always look over my shoulder and wonder who was walking behind me, what they might want to do to me. Malefica and Frost's tubs of radioactive goo had frightened me. But now, their threats seemed petty, almost cartoonish, in comparison to the attack tonight.

Suddenly, a quiet stillness filled the room. He was there watching me have a nervous breakdown. And probably enjoying it immensely.

”Go away,” I said through my sobs, embarra.s.sed and ashamed of my cosmic meltdown.

”I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

”I'm fine. Now please, go away. I don't want you to see me like this.”

”Like what?” Striker asked in a gentle tone.

”Frightened, weak, crying my eyes out. It must seem so pathetic to you.” I closed my eyes and squeezed back the tears. I wouldn't cry again until he left. I would not.

Striker sat down on the edge of the bed. It dipped with his solid weight. ”Superheroes aren't perfect, you know. Just because some of us have superstrength doesn't mean we never get scared. We have fears and insecurities and worries too.”

I rolled over to look at him. ”Fear? What fear? I didn't see any fear in you tonight. You took out those KarmaGirl.

guys like it was nothing, just like you took out the drug runners a few weeks ago.” Just like you made love to me.

”I was afraid tonight. Afraid for you. I saw the men chase you into the alley. I was afraid I wouldn't be quick enough to save you, fast enough to stop them.”

”That's not the same thing.”

”Yes, it is.”

I let out a snort. ”You almost sound like you care.”

His eyes locked with mine. Some emotion I couldn't quite identify s.h.i.+mmered in the silvery depths. ”I do.”

”Then why haven't I seen you since . . . that night?” It was a question I'd asked myself a hundred times.

A thousand times.

He dropped his eyes. ”I've been around. I just-I didn't know-I couldn't-”

Striker reached out. He hesitated, then put his hand on my head. He stroked my damp hair. The image of my would-be rapists flashed through my head. Instead of Striker's gentle touch, I felt their cruel hands marching all over me.

My stomach churned, and I rolled away from the superhero. ”Please just leave.”

Striker didn't listen. Instead, he lay down on the bed next to me and drew me into his arms. I let him. I was weak and scared and terrified, so I let him hold me.

The tears came back. For the second time that night, I did nothing to stop them.

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