Worcester Nights - The Boxed Set (15 page)

She put out a hand, and I carefully got to my feet. It seemed the floor was moving, that we were aboard a ship at sea. She put an arm around my waist and helped me into the bathroom. It was a simple white-décor space, with a small mirror over the porcelain sink and a shower stall surrounded on two sides by frosted glass.

She smiled encouragingly at me. “I’ll bring you a nightgown. You get yourself washed up. There’s soap and shampoo in there, and you can use that towel – it’s clean. I’ll be right outside when you’re done.” She released me to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, then stepped out and shut the door.

I immediately reached for my phone in my pocket – but it wasn’t there. I had no watch, nothing else on me but my clothes. And my head was throbbing as if an L. A. rave had burst to life within its walls.

Wearily I pulled off my clothes and tried to examine the injury on my leg. With the matted blood it was hard to see how bad it was. At least it seemed that nothing else had gotten hurt in the process. I carefully pressed myself up to standing and went over to the mirror. My eyes were ringed with black shadows, and there was a sizeable lump on my right temple, but nothing else seemed affected.

I tried to peer into my own eyes in the reflection. Was one pupil larger than the other? It seemed like it might be. I would not be surprised if I did have a concussion, with the way a woodpecker was hammering its way into my skull. I would have to try to hang on until rescue came. I had no doubt that at this very moment Sean, Jimmy, Seamus, and all the rest were doing everything in their power to find me.

I moved carefully to the shower and turned on the blast. It took a few minutes for the hot water to come fully through, and then I stepped into the stream. I groaned in a sublime mixture of pleasure and pain. Somehow they melded into a sensation I found it hard to put a name to. I simply stood there for a long while, soaking in it. Then at last I began the routine of shampoo and soap.

Under careful ministrations I was able to work my way through the brown-red mess of my leg and get to the underlying skin. It wasn’t as bad as I had thought. There were three jagged stripes, but they didn’t go deep. I gently washed them, making sure there was no debris embedded in the wounds. Finally I rinsed thoroughly and came out to towel myself dry. I then wrapped the towel around my middle.

I went to the bathroom door and opened it the tiniest amount. “Aymee? Are you out there?”

There was a movement by the door, and a long, thick, white cotton nightgown was pressed into my hands. “About time,” she teased. “I thought you had drowned in there. Here you go.”

I closed the door, put my panties back on, then pulled the fabric over my head. It felt heavenly, wrapped around me. I gathered up the rest of my items and stepped back out into the bedroom.

She took my clothes out of my arms. “I’ll get these washed for you. In the meantime, you look like Hell. Get some sleep.”

I didn’t protest. My lids were already closing of their own accord, and I could barely stand. I wobbled my way over to the bed and climbed under the heavy covers. From below came the steady whirr-thump, whirr-thump of the cleaners and their equipment, washing away all trace of me.

The sound was soothing, mesmerizing, and the world fell away.

Chapter 7

I
lost all sense of time. I woke up shivering, in the middle of the day, judging by the streaming light shafting through stripes between the boards. I had tossed off my blanket at some point in my sleep. I pulled it back on me, burrowed deep beneath it, and sunk back into oblivion.

Aymee came by later, fed me a bowl of chicken broth, and I could barely stay awake for it.

My dreams were dark, tangled, and laced with dread. I was deep in a gothic forest of twisted evergreens, my feet sliding in the mud, crows calling high overhead. I was searching for something, but had no idea for what. My clothes kept catching on the brambles around me.

The sharp thump of a closing door shook me into wakefulness.

The room was pitch dark. I had no idea if it was late evening or nearly dawn. What I did know was there was a presence in the room.

I bit down the scream which launched from my core. I clenched my hands into the blankets and sat up, moving my back into the corner. Was this friend or foe?

The steps cautiously moved forward toward the bed. I strained in the darkness, searching, striving …

A twisting motion, and a thick rag was brought across my mouth, solid hands tying it behind my head. I cried out in agony at the pressure, but the sound was muffled by the dense fabric. I bunched myself up into a ball, pressing hard into the corner, but a beefy hand latched onto my upper arm and flung me face down onto the bed.

Raul’s rough voice growled in my ear. “You’ve been trouble since I first saw you at that bar, you
puta
. And now you’ll get what you deserve.”

He grabbed for the bottom of my nightgown. I scrambled to find the lamp, or anything at all, to use against him. He snarled and threw me back onto the bed, the motion sending my head pounding. A wave of nausea swept over me, and my focus zoomed in on not getting sick. If I threw up with this rag in my mouth I could choke to death. I had no doubt Raul would gladly let that happen.

His hands were back at my nightgown, and I kicked out backwards, still striving to drag in long, deep breaths to ease the rocking of my head. He grabbed my calf and slammed it into the mattress, kneeling across it with a heavy pressure. The other leg was quickly similarly pinned.

He slid his hands along my thighs, his breath coming in harsh draws. My eyes filled with tears, and I shook them away. The action sent a fresh wave of nausea and vertigo through me, and I was lost. I collapsed down against the bed. Raul’s fingers slid higher, and one thought shone through the madness. One thought glowed like a beacon in the blackest of nights.

Sean.

I focused on that, released everything else, and shut my eyes.

Crash!

Remnants of board showered over me, peppering me with tiny pinpoints of sensation. Raul launched to his feet, a growl of frustration and anger filling the room.

A dark shadow was framed in the broken-in window. When he stepped forward, the light came around him to highlight his face.

It was Sean. His face was shadowed, carved in marble, and I had never seen anyone as handsome or determined in my entire life.

Raul launched at him like a charging bull, and they were in motion. I could barely make out the swings and blocks, the dodges and counter-punches. The dense shadows, my blurry vision, and the speed at which the men moved made it an impressionist painting which had sprung to violent life. I could hear their grunts of pain, the solid, sickening sounds of fist impacting flesh. But neither man called out for help. Neither could afford the attention that rushing feet would bring.

There was a massive crunch, a pause, and then the solid thud of a body hitting back against the door. It was followed by a sliding sound as the body settled down against the floor.

Then silence.

My heart frantically sought to escape the walls of my ribs. Was that Raul laying there unconscious – or Sean? If it was Sean, what came next could be far worse than I could possibly imagine. I wrapped my arms around my legs, barely able to breathe, and there were footsteps …

A pair of steadfast eyes blinked in front of me. Sean’s voice came, low, hoarse, tinged with pain and exhaustion. “Kay?”

I flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around him. A heavy shudder of agony shook through him, but he returned my embrace with a grateful groan. “Oh, Kay, Kay …”

He swept me up in his arms, drawing carefully to his feet, then moved over to the window. He sat on the edge of the sill, and I could see we were on a quiet side street of some sort, with three-deckers all along both sides. There was a man on the street below, holding a rope. The rope went up to a hook which was sunk into the side of the window frame. A carabiner there held the rope in a loop, and the rope’s other end held a harness.

Sean quickly slipped me into the harness, then waved to the man below. I was slowly, carefully lowered down. When I was sitting on the ground the man braced, gave a nod, and Sean grabbed a hold of the rope. He slid down the length, coming to a stop at my side.

The other man knelt at my side the moment Sean had touched ground. “Kay – my God. Are you all right?”

I blinked in surprise. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but I would know that voice anywhere. “Evan? Is that you?”

My eldest brother drew me into a bear hug. His presence there let loose the last, tenuous hold I had on my emotions. I burst into tears.

He wrapped me up in his arms, drew up to standing, and in a moment the two men were striding side by side down the sidewalk. Around the corner, under a streetlight was parked a car I knew well – Evan’s Caspian Blue ’65 Mustang. He carefully slid me into the back seat, then the two men hopped into the front. A roar of the engine, and we were off.

The world drifted in and out, I was being carried again, and then Sean’s white comforter was being laid over me. I looked up to see the two men’s faces over me, side by side, furrowed with weary relief.

I was safe.

I let the world go.

Chapter 8

S
omeone was using my head as a Taiko Dojo drum, pounding it with steady rhythm, and I made a shooing motion with my hand, trying to ward them off. Strong hands clasped my fingers, and Sean’s voice came in warm relief. “There you are. How are you feeling?”

I blinked my eyes open. It was probably late afternoon, judging by the streaming light, and the familiar brick walls filled me with a sense of sturdy safety. I looked into Sean’s eyes, as he knelt by the bed, and then drew him into a tight embrace.

His voice was thick with emotion. “You’re all right. You’re home now.”

I kept my mouth right by his ear, and spoke in a low whisper. “Is Evan gone?”

He nodded against me. “He wanted to stay, but –”

“I know, he’s a cop. It could complicate things.”

“Our story will be that he stopped by to talk about Thanksgiving plans, and when he heard you were missing, he joined in the hunt.”

I pressed a kiss on his cheek, then pulled back. Sean was right – the closer we kept to the truth, the better. Someone could easily have seen Evan’s car in the parking lot, and it was not exactly a common model. I had no doubt that the moment I went missing and Sean let his handlers know, the blue grapevine had sprung into action and Evan had been alerted.

My mouth quirked into a smile. “Did he happen to stop by a few hours after I’d gone missing?”

He ran a hand tenderly down my hair, and his eyes sparkled. “More like ninety minutes,” he corrected. “I hear that his Mustang can do one-twenty if it’s opened up.”

I twined my fingers into his. “And I suppose my darling brother now wants me to go down to Mom’s to heal up.”

His eyes shadowed. “Absolutely. As do I. You’ve been through a traumatic event, and you probably have a mild concussion. We should get you into the hospital to be sure.”

I shook my head, then closed my eyes as a wave of nausea swept through me. “I’ll be stuck sitting in a waiting room for five hours while all manner of contagious people cough on me,” I argued. “In the end, they’ll just tell me to rest and take it easy.”

His mouth quirked up into a wry smile. “Evan said you’d say that,” he countered. “So we have a doctor friend of his coming by in about an hour to look at you.”

He gave my hands a squeeze. “In the meantime, how’d you like some Campbell’s Chicken and Stars soup?”

I chuckled. “You and Evan have been busy chatting, I see. Sure, I’d love some.”

The soup was just the comfort food I needed. I napped, and then the doctor was there to check me over. After poking, prodding, and inserting objects into orifices, he pronounced me quite fine with a minor concussion. His recommendation was simply to rest for a week and take over-the-counter medication for the pain.

I looked over at Sean after he’d left. “See, what did I tell you?”

He smiled, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “It’s always best to be sure,” he advised. “Just in case it had been something worse.”

He ran his fingers down the side of my face, and his look shadowed. “Oh, Kay, this is all my fault. I should have been there. I should have looked out for you.”

I brought my fingers over his. “You can’t watch me twenty-four hours a day,” I pointed out. “And we thought that whole Cuban thing was in the past.”

He hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening, and then he asked, “Did they … did they hurt you?”

I squeezed his fingers. “They did not,” I reassured him. “Raul intended to, but you got there in time.”

Relief eased the tension in his body, and he pressed a tender kiss onto my forehead.

Sean’s phone rang, and he sighed, pulling back. He drew the phone from his pocket. “Sean here.”

He looked over at me as he listened. “I’ll ask her.”

He hit the mute button on the phone, then put his head in close to mine. “Seamus and Jimmy want to come talk with you about what happened. Are you up to it?”