Full Contact
Page 87
I scream.
Pain rips through my shoulder.
The door crashes open.
Ray bursts into the room. Yuri turns and raises his weapon, but he’s too slow. Ray fires twice and blood blooms across Yuri’s chest. He collapses on the bed, then rolls to the floor.
Agents in black with FBI vests flood into the tiny space. Ray kneels beside the bed. “It’s okay. We got you now.”
But it’s not okay. Breath doesn’t come to my lungs. My heart doesn’t stop pounding. Sweat doesn’t stop trickling down my forehead, blurring my vision. “My shoulder…”
Ray’s face is pale, stark. His eyes burn with a fire I haven’t seen before. He turns and yells. “Medic. Now.” And then he squeezes my hand. “It’s just a little flesh wound. Talk to me.”
But I can’t talk, can’t breathe. The fire in my shoulder burns hotter than the fire in his eyes, consuming me, pulling me into the darkness.
“Fuck.” Ray turns and shouts for a medic again. He strokes my head, and the pain subsides as I slide into a dark, safe place.
“I didn’t panic,” I whisper. “I fought back. Like a predator. Like you.”
“You did good, beautiful girl.” Ray kisses my forehead. “You held him off. I came as fast as I could.”
“But…” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I struggle toward the light.
“Where’s the damn medic?” Panic infuses Ray’s voice. “Medic!”
His panic defeats me and the world fades away. “You weren’t fast enough,” I whisper.
Something scared the Predator.
I think it was me.
Chapter 25
Everything beautiful…
This time when I wake, the room is light.
White. Bright. Medical equipment on the walls. Machines beeping. Heavy, cloying scent of disinfectant.
An IV tugs my arm when I try to move, and when I turn my head, I see Ray.
We stare at each other. His face is deeply lined. Worn. Haggard. He needs comfort, but I can’t give it to him. What do I say to the man who promised to keep me safe, and instead made my worst nightmare come true?
A tear trickles down my cheek. My mouth is dry, so dry. But I manage to get out one word. “Tag.”
He nods as if he was expecting me to say just that, and he pushes himself out of his chair. His leather jacket creaks as he makes his way to the door, and then he pauses, looks over his shoulder, and meets my gaze. His eyes are dull, so pale they are almost gray. Haunted. Broken.
And then he’s gone.
A nurse comes to see me next. She gives me water, checks my vitals, and raises the bed so I can sit. Her name is Mary, and she tells me I’m in a private, federally funded hospital outside Oakland. I had an operation to remove a bullet from my shoulder yesterday, and everything went well. Tag and Jess are outside. My parents are meeting with the doctor in charge. Two agents are waiting to talk to me.
“You haven’t been alone for a minute,” she says gently. “Your family and friends were here during the day, and at night Mr. Black sat beside you and held your hand.”
When I give her a puzzled look, she frowns. “The agent who just left.”
Ah. Ray. I didn’t even know his last name. And I didn’t really know he was an agent.
After Mary leaves, my room becomes a revolving door of visitors. First the doctor who tells me I’ll be fine and will be able to go home the day after tomorrow. Next, Mom comes in for a bout of weeping followed by a lecture on how being a tattoo artist exposes me to the criminal elements of society and I need to rethink my career. Overcome with emotion, Dad just pats me on the head and fills the silence with football stats.
Jess and Tag come in holding hands after Mom and Dad leave. Like Dad, Tag is too emotional to talk, so Jess talks for him. She knew something was wrong when I didn’t show up at the fight, and when she called Tag and found out I hadn’t shown up for dinner, she told Ray and they went to my apartment. Tag was already there. He’d found my car keys under my car and had called his police buddies. But before they even arrived, Ray had the FBI on the scene. That’s when she knew it was really bad.
Tag makes a noise, a cross between a sob and a growl, and Jess gives his hand a squeeze and tells him, “Look, she’s here. She’s okay. Ray saved her.”
“She wouldn’t have been in that position if not for him. This is all his fault.” Tag stalks out of the room. Jess races after him, telling me over her shoulder that she’s spent the last few days trying to keep them apart, because every time Tag sees Ray, he goes crazy.
Strangely detached, I watch them go. Maybe it’s the drugs or shock, but I feel nothing. No happiness. No sadness. No relief or anger. I just sit as people come in and out, say little, feel less, and pray the circus will end.
“You okay, Sia?” A man enters the room and pulls up a chair beside me. He is tall and thin, with sandy-brown hair parted to one side. His dark suit and white shirt are impeccably pressed. Everything about him screams agent, and I tense in the bed.
He holds out his hand. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Special Agent Jack Harris. FBI. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened and commend you on your bravery.”
Giving his hand a limp shake, I shrug. “I’m hardly brave. When I saw him in the parking lot, I didn’t run away because I knew him from the tattoo parlor. And in the hotel room, I knew all sorts of self-defense and fight moves, and all I could come up with was to keep him talking, kick him, and bite his lip. If you hadn’t come, he would have killed me. I trust all the wrong people. I make myself vulnerable over and over again, and I get hurt. I’m pathetic.”
Pain rips through my shoulder.
The door crashes open.
Ray bursts into the room. Yuri turns and raises his weapon, but he’s too slow. Ray fires twice and blood blooms across Yuri’s chest. He collapses on the bed, then rolls to the floor.
Agents in black with FBI vests flood into the tiny space. Ray kneels beside the bed. “It’s okay. We got you now.”
But it’s not okay. Breath doesn’t come to my lungs. My heart doesn’t stop pounding. Sweat doesn’t stop trickling down my forehead, blurring my vision. “My shoulder…”
Ray’s face is pale, stark. His eyes burn with a fire I haven’t seen before. He turns and yells. “Medic. Now.” And then he squeezes my hand. “It’s just a little flesh wound. Talk to me.”
But I can’t talk, can’t breathe. The fire in my shoulder burns hotter than the fire in his eyes, consuming me, pulling me into the darkness.
“Fuck.” Ray turns and shouts for a medic again. He strokes my head, and the pain subsides as I slide into a dark, safe place.
“I didn’t panic,” I whisper. “I fought back. Like a predator. Like you.”
“You did good, beautiful girl.” Ray kisses my forehead. “You held him off. I came as fast as I could.”
“But…” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I struggle toward the light.
“Where’s the damn medic?” Panic infuses Ray’s voice. “Medic!”
His panic defeats me and the world fades away. “You weren’t fast enough,” I whisper.
Something scared the Predator.
I think it was me.
Chapter 25
Everything beautiful…
This time when I wake, the room is light.
White. Bright. Medical equipment on the walls. Machines beeping. Heavy, cloying scent of disinfectant.
An IV tugs my arm when I try to move, and when I turn my head, I see Ray.
We stare at each other. His face is deeply lined. Worn. Haggard. He needs comfort, but I can’t give it to him. What do I say to the man who promised to keep me safe, and instead made my worst nightmare come true?
A tear trickles down my cheek. My mouth is dry, so dry. But I manage to get out one word. “Tag.”
He nods as if he was expecting me to say just that, and he pushes himself out of his chair. His leather jacket creaks as he makes his way to the door, and then he pauses, looks over his shoulder, and meets my gaze. His eyes are dull, so pale they are almost gray. Haunted. Broken.
And then he’s gone.
A nurse comes to see me next. She gives me water, checks my vitals, and raises the bed so I can sit. Her name is Mary, and she tells me I’m in a private, federally funded hospital outside Oakland. I had an operation to remove a bullet from my shoulder yesterday, and everything went well. Tag and Jess are outside. My parents are meeting with the doctor in charge. Two agents are waiting to talk to me.
“You haven’t been alone for a minute,” she says gently. “Your family and friends were here during the day, and at night Mr. Black sat beside you and held your hand.”
When I give her a puzzled look, she frowns. “The agent who just left.”
Ah. Ray. I didn’t even know his last name. And I didn’t really know he was an agent.
After Mary leaves, my room becomes a revolving door of visitors. First the doctor who tells me I’ll be fine and will be able to go home the day after tomorrow. Next, Mom comes in for a bout of weeping followed by a lecture on how being a tattoo artist exposes me to the criminal elements of society and I need to rethink my career. Overcome with emotion, Dad just pats me on the head and fills the silence with football stats.
Jess and Tag come in holding hands after Mom and Dad leave. Like Dad, Tag is too emotional to talk, so Jess talks for him. She knew something was wrong when I didn’t show up at the fight, and when she called Tag and found out I hadn’t shown up for dinner, she told Ray and they went to my apartment. Tag was already there. He’d found my car keys under my car and had called his police buddies. But before they even arrived, Ray had the FBI on the scene. That’s when she knew it was really bad.
Tag makes a noise, a cross between a sob and a growl, and Jess gives his hand a squeeze and tells him, “Look, she’s here. She’s okay. Ray saved her.”
“She wouldn’t have been in that position if not for him. This is all his fault.” Tag stalks out of the room. Jess races after him, telling me over her shoulder that she’s spent the last few days trying to keep them apart, because every time Tag sees Ray, he goes crazy.
Strangely detached, I watch them go. Maybe it’s the drugs or shock, but I feel nothing. No happiness. No sadness. No relief or anger. I just sit as people come in and out, say little, feel less, and pray the circus will end.
“You okay, Sia?” A man enters the room and pulls up a chair beside me. He is tall and thin, with sandy-brown hair parted to one side. His dark suit and white shirt are impeccably pressed. Everything about him screams agent, and I tense in the bed.
He holds out his hand. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Special Agent Jack Harris. FBI. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened and commend you on your bravery.”
Giving his hand a limp shake, I shrug. “I’m hardly brave. When I saw him in the parking lot, I didn’t run away because I knew him from the tattoo parlor. And in the hotel room, I knew all sorts of self-defense and fight moves, and all I could come up with was to keep him talking, kick him, and bite his lip. If you hadn’t come, he would have killed me. I trust all the wrong people. I make myself vulnerable over and over again, and I get hurt. I’m pathetic.”
