Avenger (7 page)

Luke thrashed and kicked around, his body tense, sweat drenched his skin within seconds. Ignoring all his warnings to never touch or go through him, Pru slipped in bed by his side and held him. If going through Luke made her feel exuberant, she hoped the same was true for him.

“Shh, you’re not alone,” she whispered in his ear and closed her eyes. She gathered all her calmness along with the warmth and bliss she experienced by touching him, and returned them tenfold, willing him to accept them, to take them all in.

****

“That was…something,” Luke said and rolled off Hope’s sweaty, slippery body. She mumbled something in return and nestled close enough that the darker roots of her hair showed below the bleached strands.

He raised an eyebrow, the snuggling business was new. Usually, Hope liked everything quick, the sex, the paying, and the leaving. She had the world record for getting her Johns to leave her shady apartment fast. Luke returned because no one knew about her. Hope was a safe relief.

Awkwardly, he rested a hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t good at the emotional exchange after a roll in the hay. That was another reason why he kept coming back to her. So why did she change? He thought to himself. “I think you need to touch up on your non-blond roots.”

She swatted him on the shoulder playfully. “My roots weren’t a problem half an hour ago.”

Half an hour ago she wasn’t all touchy feely. “They’re never the problem.”

She leaned back frowning. “What’s the problem then?”

Luke avoided women’s mood swings, it was time to gather his things and beat it. He made as to rise, pushing her gently off him. She wouldn’t budge.

“No. First explain what you meant, then you can leave.” Her teasing voice carried a strained undertone he didn’t like. Her eyes flicked to the alarm clock by her bed.

“You act as though you’re expecting another John, yet you’re pushing me to stay. Why?” As Luke asked the question, he recognized the situation for what it was, a trap. He shoved Hope off him. “You bitch!”

Too late though, he could discern those weighty steps plodding up the stairs anywhere in the world. Barney was the guy sent to brutally exterminate the vermin who’d crossed Sully, Luke was one such vermin. Without wasting another moment on Hope—after all, the highest bidder always won in her world—Luke pulled up his pants.

“Wait,” she screamed after him. He guessed she didn’t care about him to be so desperate unless actual delivery was part of the deal.

He flashed his teeth. “You suck, Hope, and not in a good way.”

Heavy blows on the door shook it from its hinges. No threats, no shouting to open the door or else, just silent pounding. It was Barney alright.

With his t-shirt balled in one hand, Luke pried the window open and stumbled out on the fire escape. He took two steps down but a shower of bullets from the street below convinced him to change tactic and climb up to the roof instead. The bullets bounced off the metal railing, he ducked to avoid their ricochet.

The roof was a jungle of corroded satellite dishes and wooden planks that doubled as traps of rusty nails. He trotted carefully while zigzagging between the planks to the other end. There had to be another fire escape or a building close by. Some way out of this mess.

Having donned his shirt in a rush, Luke leaned over the edge. No fire escape. He sighed and pulled on his hair. “Arrrgh!” The neighboring building was the same height but too far for a wild jump.

At that instant, Barney heaved his massive bulk onto the roof. “Move and I’ll skin you alive.”

Luke froze and raised both hands, facing the burly man breathing heavily before him. Barney was a man of few words, however, whatever promises he made, he kept.

Luke shook his head slowly. “What happened to freeze or I’ll shoot?” Despite the bravado, his heart hammered faster. Sully was one Boss who should never be crossed.

Barney approached with steady, lumbering steps, his Beretta aimed at Luke’s leg. The pistol wasn’t Barney’s toy of choice, his favorites were stacked in a chest back at his special playhouse, where his playmates were dragged in and carried out—invariably not breathing anymore. Shooting the leg was a viable option for Barney. It would serve two purposes, slow Luke down and keep him alive long enough to become a plaything for a couple of hours.
If
he were lucky and lasted a couple of hours.

Luke glanced behind him quickly to measure the distance to the opposite building. Sweat slid from his forehead into his eyes, it stung. The weather wasn’t on his side, the air was leaden with water.

He faced forward again. Barney had slunk closer, shaking his head at him. “You won’t make it.” His words were clipped, his puffy face red with exertion, but those beady gray eyes hadn’t lost their focus.

“I won’t make what?” Luke pointed with his chin at Barney. “Say, aren’t you getting cooked in that suit?”

A clamor sounded behind Barney and he swiveled his head to see its cause. His partner’s head just cleared the edge of the roof when Luke turned around and rushed the ledge. It wasn’t a far enough run to build the necessary momentum, but it had to do. The alternative wasn’t sunny enough.

With a leap, Luke kicked off the ledge and launched himself at the other building, a smile spreading his lips. He would make it, it was closer than he thought. He might be forced to waste some time scrambling up the other side, but he could do it.

A popping sound reverberated, a slug whirred by his arm. A miss. Another bullet was fired, this one bit, sliced, wedging itself in his flesh. The scorching fire in his torso twisted his airborne-body and forced him to lose the little steam he had and pummel downward. That trip to the ground took ages, but his life didn’t flash before his eyes. His heartbeats went crazy, loud and resonating through his aching body.

He almost welcomed the end of the plunge, a hard smack against the pavement that jarred him to the core. And even though several bones crunched, there was no pain, just some pressure building in his neck and back.

In this awkward and pain-free position, Luke wondered how much Hope was paid for delivering him. Hope, the reason for his downfall.

****

As they reached the hospital, Pru said, “I don’t understand why we have to come here again.”

Luke glanced at her sideways. “Because I want to ask questions that can’t be asked at night. I already explained that. What’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.”

Earlier, when she’d thought she was helping him through his nightmare, he’d awakened with a heart-wrenching sigh of one word. Hope. Then he’d propelled himself from the bed, away from her, and to the floor.

Was
“Hope” an optimistic expectation or a girl’s name?

She’d asked him if he had a nightmare, and he denied it, which should’ve been end of story. Yet, Pru couldn’t help the sadness that had swarmed her heart at the utterance of that single word. The more she thought about it now the more “Hope” felt like a name. No one screamed “wealth” or “luck” in his sleep, did they?

Now, he studied her for a while without responding, and then sighed. “You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

She was acting like a kid, Pru reasoned. After all, she wasn’t his keeper, he could call any name he wanted. And besides, he was helping her out. “I appreciate what you’re doing, I even appreciate your departure from black to blend in with the visitors.” She eyed his beige button-down shirt and blue jeans meaningfully.

With a curt nod, he mounted the steps and pushed his way through the sliding doors. Without pausing at the reception, Luke took the elevator to the third floor. Visiting hours allowed anyone to enter, unless he was covered in blood and carried a machete.

As the elevator door pinged open, Pru headed towards her room but paused when she didn’t sense him next to her. She backtracked her steps and found him leaning on a pillar, his eyes closed.

“What are you waiting for?”

Luke opened his eyes and pointed to the left with his chin. “For Carmen and that woman to finish talking and go away.” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said Carmen didn’t visit you.”

“As far as I know she didn’t.” Pru leaned eagerly to the side to see. Indeed, Carmen was speaking with Eloise, Mrs. Lancaster’s assistant. Perhaps Carmen visited while Pru was out wandering the streets.

As usual, Eloise was clad in a navy blue jacket with matching pants and comfortable heeled shoes. She was dressed as though about to attend a corporate meeting. Her very short black-gray hair was coifed with a side-swept fringe. Even her usual dry expression didn’t deter happiness from blossoming in Pru’s heart. She was finally found, everything would be okay. She would be reunited with her family.

Pru drifted toward them and halted at seeing Carmen’s red-rimmed eyes. She was sniffling.

Am I dying?

“I can’t bear this anymore,” Carmen said.

Eloise raised a hand. “The instructions we have are very clear, you can’t do anything about it.” Eloise’s dead blue gaze focused on Carmen, no mercy to be found there.

“But it isn’t fair. Pru did nothing wrong.”

“This topic is not open for discussion. If you prefer, I can ask someone to speak to you.”

Carmen flinched. When Eloise turned to leave, Carmen wiped her tears and staggered after her.

Pru stayed behind, movement and thoughts muddled by shock. She was not found, and wouldn’t be if things remained the way they were. She was hidden, otherwise why hadn’t Carmen told her family about her yet?

Just as she was about to spiral into self-pity, warmth weaved a gentle pattern from her hand to the rest of her body. She looked to the side, Luke was right next to her, his fingers immersed in her semitransparent hand.

“Did you hear them?” she whispered. Her breath came out on a hitch. She would not cry.

“No, but it can’t be good judging by your expression.”

Chapter Eleven

Luke paced the alley by the hospital, angry with himself for not calling Pru’s family, furious with Carmen for letting her down, and pissed at the
charitable
Mrs. Lancaster. Eloise, her assistant, was no other than Mack’s mother. Mack was sentenced and executed for the rape and murder of thirty-seven women, but before his execution, he had drastically changed Luke’s life through his affiliation with Sully and the gang.

Was it possible that Luke’s interest in Pru had led Sully and his gang to her? No. Pru’s accident took place a week before they met. He cursed, livid for not figuring a connection that was bound to be there.

Poor Pru. She’d looked searchingly at him, her broken heart reflected in her large expressive eyes and then darted out of the hospital to this alley. Under his insistence, she’d recounted, dry-eyed, the conversation between Carmen and Eloise. He had a feeling her prone body in the hospital had done all the crying.

If only he could hold Pru, reassure her that all would be well, that he was by her side. Instead, he punched the wall hard enough for the pain to reverberate all the way to his shoulder. As he swung his arm for another blow, Pru slid between him and the wall, shaking her head. She was close to him, so close that her forehead almost rested on his chest. So close that waves of memories rolled over him, washing him clean of his wrath. Memories of warmth, of childhood dreams, of fresh spring grass.

“I won’t let you hurt yourself. I mean it,” she said, breath halting as she spoke, her eyes drowning him in, somehow calming him.

Carmen had grown into an older replica of her teen self, except her rosy complexion was yellow and clammy looking and her long black hair was chopped short, the fringe sticking to her forehead. She’d spoken to Eloise with too-animated gestures while her dark gaze jumped all over the hall, walls, and people passing them by. Trembles shook her shoulders as though she was cold but her sweaty skin contradicted that. If that wasn’t proof enough of substance abuse, her repeated sniffling and rubbing of the nose did the trick. Carmen was a junky suffering from withdrawal symptoms. The question was whether she was trying to give it up or her supplier had stiffed her.

Pru raised shaky hands. “Calm down, Luke. There must be a reasonable explanati—God! Your hand is bleeding.”

He glanced at his already healing hand. “It’ll heal. Did you know these two knew each other?”

She shook her head. “I guess Mom and Tía Adoria won’t be coming.”

Luke winced. No, they weren’t coming.

“Carmen didn’t look good, did she?”

He inhaled sharply. It wasn’t the right time to discuss her choice in friends. “Do you know the woman who was talking to Carmen?”

“Eloise? No, not before my stay here. She’s Mrs. Lancaster’s assistant and is very loyal to her. She follows her orders to the letter.”

“You don’t know her from elsewhere?”

“I said no. Not everyone’s past is filled with unknown people.” Pru covered her mouth, eyes open wide. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Yet, she evaded his searching gaze.

Something was wrong, her eruption didn’t make sense. “What is it Pru?” She turned to the side and pressed her lips. He leaned closer and softened his tone as he said, “Tell me.”

In a small voice he wouldn’t have heard if he was a foot away from her, she asked, “Who’s Hope?”

Luke blinked, his brow knitting together. Did she know Hope?

“I-you said her name during your sleep.”

He almost smiled. Was it possible that Pru was jealous? “She’s a working girl from my past.”

“You called her name and then woke up and moved away from me. She must’ve meant something.”

She helped kill me
. Aloud he said, “I must’ve called her name because I was dreaming of the night my life changed forever. She meant nothing then and she means nothing now.”

“Then why did you push away from me when you woke up?”