Seth (Damage Control #3) (28 page)

“Sticker?” Zane is leaning against a big dumpster, his eyes glinting like gems in the dimness. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There was a sticker on Seth’s door last time I was here. A Damage Control sticker. With a snake.”

“Hey, I remember that.” Rafe throws down his cigarette and stomps on it. “She’s right. Last time I was here, it was on his door.”

“Fucking terrifying. I’m sure the aliens took it.” Zane shakes his head and draws on his cigarette, the embers glowing red.

“I’m just—” I step around him, pull something from the trash. “Jesus.”

“Beware of the aliens,” Zane mutters from behind me.

Rafe steps closer. “What is it?”

I pull out a plastic bag, filled with clothes. On top sits a Batman mug. “This… I think this belongs to Seth. I remember seeing it in his room.”

“Damn, that’s right. Isn’t that the mug Ocean gave him last Christmas?” Rafe frowns. “He threw out his stuff?”

I pull another bag. It tears. Paperbacks spill to the filthy ground. Romances. Sci-fi novels. Two barbell weights crash down, barely missing my feet.

“This is all his stuff. Why would he throw it away? It makes no sense. He throws his stuff away, turns off his phone and disappears. Why?”

“He got tired of it?” Rafe mutters. But he doesn’t look convinced.

That’s because it doesn’t sound like Seth. He has so little, I can’t believe he’d throw it away on a whim.

The bad feeling is back, choking me.

“What if he didn’t leave?” I ask.

“You mean he’s locked up upstairs?” Rafe glances up, as if he can see into Seth’s window.

“No, I mean, what if he moved out or something?”

“And go where? He can barely afford this apartment.” Zane turns to Rafe, frowning. “Hey, has he had any trouble paying the rent lately? I don’t think he has a job, and he never found a roomie, did he?”

“No. You think—?”

“Yeah, I do fucking think.” Zane takes one last drag from his cigarette and puts it out on the wall, his eyes dark with something like fury. “Let’s go find the landlord.”

***

We knock on the landlord’s door, and I stand in front of it while the guys hide. A decoy.

The door opens and a squirrely man stares up at me. “Yes?”

Before I say a word, Rafe and Zane step up behind me, nudge me aside, and barge into the apartment.

I follow, trembling, certain I’ll witness some sort of medieval torture applied to drag the truth out of the guy—but in fact a few words from Rafe ensure he spills the beans.

Yes, he evicted Seth. Yesterday. No, he doesn’t know where Seth is.

In fact, in the end we have to haul Rafe away from the guy, because he’s about to tear him a new one.

“That fucking son of a bitch,” Rafe hisses as Zane grabs him and pulls him out, and I close the door. “He just kicked him out, threw away his stuff. Motherfucker. He knew he should’ve told me. We had an agreement, goddammit!”

“Calm down, fucker.” Zane shoves him up against the wall. “Let’s be cool. We need to find Seth. Weather is turning cold, and it’s raining.”

“Why didn’t he come to us?” Rafe tears himself free from Zane’s hold and shoves his hands through his hair.

“He thought we gave up on him,” I say, because I see it clearly now. “All of us.”

“Fuck.” Zane wraps his knuckles on the wall as he starts down the stairs once again. “Shane isn’t answering his phone. We need to find him. He’ll tell us where his cousin is.”

***

As it turns out, Shane isn’t so hard to find. Jesse tells us he’s at Halo, the bar the Brotherhood and the Damage Boyz favor of late, playing pool with Micah who has his day off.

Indeed Shane’s there, looking slightly disheveled, his long, dark hair unbound and draped on his back like silk. He turns to look at us when Micah taps him on the shoulder, and for a moment I think I see Seth’s face.

But no, Shane’s face is finer, his eyes more widely set. Seth’s is more roughly hewn, the jaw more square.

Beautiful.

God, I need to see him. See that he’s okay.

“Whatcha want?” Shane slurs, and nice, he’s drunk. He’s a cute drunk. Relaxed, grinning, quite unlike his usual scowling self.

Wish I was relaxed myself to enjoy this.

“We’re looking for Seth,” Zane says.

His grin falls. “Saw him yesterday.” He puts his cue down. “Went by his place. Haven’t seen him since.”

“Well, his landlord threw him out,” I say, “and his phone isn’t answering, so if you have any idea of where he might be…”

“Threw him out?” He blinks, cocks his head to the side. “What the fuck?”

Rafe’s fists tighten. “Tell me about it. We can’t find him, and none of us know where he is. Do you?”

“Jesus. I don’t…” Shane leans back against the pool table, his cheekbones flushed. “I punched him.”

“You what?” My hands curl. I’m ready to punch him back. “Why?”

“For telling you guys about us. About our rap sheet.”

“Seth didn’t tell me about it,” Zane says. “Rafe found out by chance when he went looking for a job for Seth.”

“Oh hell.” Shane hangs his head, dark hair curtaining his face. “He tried telling me that. Shit. I should’ve known, but I was too pissed off.”

“Known what?”

He grunts. “Seth. He’s always looked out for me, since we were kids. I made him promise he wouldn’t tell you. He’d never break his promise. Dammit.”

“Help us find him and you can tell him that,” I say.

He turns to me. “He’s not with you?”

“Jesus, does drinking affect your hearing?” Anger makes me tremble. “We don’t know where he is.”

“Where would he go?” Rafe grabs Shane’s shoulder and shakes him. “Where, Shane?”

He shudders. “There’s this alley where we used to sleep when it got cold. Not far from State Street. I’ll take you there.”

“Good,” Rafe says and hauls him away from the pool table. He nods at Micah who’s watching us wide-eyed. “Come on. Let’s go get Seth.”

***

“Fucker, tell me this,” Zane says as we head down the avenue, looking for the alley where Shane is taking us. “What’s the truth? Did Seth do it, did he deal drugs?”

“Fuck no.” Shane glares at no-one in particular, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “He’s telling the truth, Zane, you got to believe him. Believe us.”

“What happened the night you two got arrested?”

“That night his mom called him, told him to come by. Seth had threatened to call the cops on her, and she said she’d throw out the drugs, change her life around.” Shane glances sideways at Zane. “Seth’s a good guy. Still loves his mom. Thought she was honest. She had it all thought out. Beat Seth down, left enough drugs to put him behind bars for almost a year. He was so badly hurt he’s lucky I went looking for him.” He shrugs. “I never regretted it.”

Zane pats Shane’s back, his eyes pensive. “Yeah.”

Although it’s not long past midday, the day is dark, the drizzle persistent. The alley Shane leads us into is narrow and dank, filled with a disconcerting mixture of smells—the stench of trash and the delicious aroma of grilled meat and vegetables in sauce from the restaurant kitchens opening into it. Huge dumpsters rise in regular intervals, like hunched over giants in the gloom and the drizzle.

At first I can’t see him anywhere, and I start to panic.

“He’s not here,” I whisper, wrapping myself more tightly in my coat. “Shit, Shane, he’s not—”

“He’s here.” Shane strides ahead, pushing back the hood of his jacket, and crouches beside what I’d taken to be a pile of old rags. “Seth!”

I don’t know when I start running, but suddenly we’re all kneeling in the rain, around Seth.

Seth, oh God. He doesn’t react at first when Shane shakes him, his head rolling back. He’s wrapped up in a quilt, and despite the fact he’s holed up under a fire escape, he’s soaked through.

“Something’s wrong,” Shane says.

He’s right. Something’s off. Seth’s cheeks are flushed, warm to the touch, where I expected them to be ice-cold.

Fever?
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he cries out, a strangled sound. His eyes glitter as they open.

“Jesus.” I help Shane to sit him up, careful not to touch his shoulder again. Through his soaked jacket, it looks odd, lower than the other one. “Is his shoulder dislocated?”

Shane curses. “When I punched him, he fell. He seemed to be in pain, but I never thought… Fuck.”

And he’s feverish. No idea if it’s connected or not, but I don’t like it.

Don’t like it one bit. The fact he’s out here alone, that he thought he couldn’t turn to any of us for help. To me. That he’s hurt and sick and that we only found out he was out here by chance.

What if I hadn’t met with Zane and Rafe? What if we hadn’t seen his stuff in the dumpster and gone to talk to the landlord?

“I’ll get your car, park it closer, so we can get him to the ER.” Zane gets to his feet. “Throw me your car keys.”

I’m grateful he doesn’t ask me to leave Seth for this. I throw him the keys, he catches them, then he and Rafe walk away.

I lean closer. “Seth?”

“My shoulder,” he whispers. Pain cuts white lines around his beautiful mouth. His teeth are chattering.

Shane’s face is a mask of regret. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize what happened.” He gets up, lifts his hands. “Just… sorry.”

Seth blinks dazedly after him. Tries to move, but hisses and flinches instead, clutching his arm over his stomach.

“I’ve got you.” I help him settle his arm in his lap, swallow hard. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll take care of you.”

His eyes lift, settling on me, heavy-lidded. Dark like outer space. “Manon?”

“I’m here.”

I watch his gaze slowly brighten. A faint smile curves his lips. “You’re here.”

“Yeah.” Lifting my hand to his face, I cup his jaw. “That’s right. So glad I found you.”

His breath shudders.

“And you should hurry up,” I tell him, swallowing back tears, “to get well so you can teach me some more things, okay?”

“For Fred?”

I shake my head, my heart slamming against my ribs. “No more Fred. I’m done with him. For you. Just you.”

How was I so blind before?

“Not good for you,” he whispers. His throat works. “I’m an ex-con connected to drugs.”

“I don’t care. I don’t believe you did any of that.” I run my thumb over his cheekbone. “In fact, I think I love you, Seth Tucker.”

He stares at me, those dark eyes open wide. He reaches up, puts his bigger hand over mine. “You’re joking. This is a dream.”

“No, it’s not, Seth. You’re the one I want.”

His smile comes back full force.  “That’s good,” he whispers, his eyes closing. “Because I’ve loved you from the start.”

Seth

The journey to the ER takes place in a kind of weird haze. My head feels a size too big for my neck, and even the pain doesn’t seem to clear it. Plus, every movement, every bump in the road jostles my shoulder, and my jaw’s clenched so hard it creaks.

But Manon is there, beside me, her hand on top of mine, and nothing else matters. Even if I have no place to go, if Zane and Rafe want me far from Damage Control, if I don’t have a penny to my name.

“I think I love you.”

Did she mean it? Could she change her mind? Will she stay?

She said it’s not a dream, but what if it is? What if I wake up, curled up in that alley, alone? What if I dreamed her up?

I dreamed a lot wrapped up in my quilt—of Manon walking away, of Shane’s anger, of my mom’s betrayal. Nightmare after nightmare, sinking claws into my mind, tearing my thoughts apart.

And now I’m back at the hospital.
Joy.
I let the guys manhandle me into a wheelchair, roll me inside. Let the doctors poke me and prod me, ask me questions.

Zane, Rafe and Shane stay outside the examination room. Shane won’t look me in the eye. He feels guilty for punching me, dislocating my shoulder. I’ll need to talk to him later. Tell him I understand. That he was right: I’m the one who got him in this mess in the first place. I deserved that punch, and his anger.

Need to talk to Zane and Rafe, too. Ask them to take Shane back in. Explain he was collateral damage. Nothing that happened three years ago was his fault – and he needs a family, much more than I ever have.

Hell.
I press my fist to my aching chest as the doctor says something about broken ligaments and possible surgery. The pressure is back.

“Depending on what?” I ask.

“The x-rays. The fever is sometimes a side effect of a broken bone. Let’s wait and see the results. Come with me, Mr. Tucker.”

I look over my shoulder at Manon, fully expecting her to leave, or simply go up in smoke and vanish.

She doesn’t. She smiles at me, and comes to stand by the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, as if reading my mind.

Makes me wonder about the expression on my face. Makes me wonder about lots of things, but as we walk out of the room together, I don’t fucking care. I’ll hold on to this dream for as long as it lasts.

***

Clavicle fracture. Broken ligaments. Dislocation.

The good news is that I won’t need surgery. I may need one in the future if this happens again, but if I’m careful, I may avoid it. Antibiotics, painkillers and a shoulder immobilizer, that’s what I’ll need for now.

The bad news is… The shoulder needs to be set.

Shit.

I know the drill. Sit still as the doc injects the sedative, barely flinch when he takes my arm and pulls hard.

Fucking ow.
Hurts in spite of the sedative, probably because this time I have a fracture to go with it, but the pain lessens almost immediately as the joint settles in its natural position.

Manon’s face grays a little, though, and she takes a step back. From the corner of my eye, I see Shane and I nod at him. He approaches, takes Manon’s elbow, tugging her away.

She shakes her head, pulls her arm free and comes to sit beside me on the bed. She laces her hand with mine. I look down at our intertwined fingers, vaguely aware of the doc talking, checking my shoulder.

“You said Fred and you broke up?” Need to be sure I didn’t imagine this.

“That’s right.” She squeezes my fingers. “Fred and I decided to be friends. Truth is, what I feel for him is more sisterly love than anything else. I can’t even think about kissing him or touching him.” She lifts my hands, kiss my knuckles. “Not like I kiss and touch you.”