Dark Hope (38 page)

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Just another instance of bad after-the-fact reportage. She was with an angel. She turned not to salt, but to ash.” Michael flexed his fingers into angry fists, the bitterness returning to his face. “God intends for our love to center upon Him alone. The fire is all-consuming, except for He who commands it.”

There was a long pause, during which I stared at him. Carefully, Michael lifted his hand and gingerly trailed a finger down the side of my face. “We were lucky. The burns are not too deep. Some are no worse than a bad sunburn. Other places—”

“What about the other places?” I prompted him.

“They blistered. And now they are raw. That’s why we wrapped you, to keep away infection. The doctors say you will heal with a little time, and maybe you’ll avoid scarring.”

I hadn’t thought ahead that far, to think about how I would look. I didn’t like the sound of that “maybe.” But now was not the time to dwell on it. I shifted so that I could face Michael and fixed him with a carefully neutral expression.

“How did you manage to get doctors here?”

He shrugged, looked away. “I suppose it’s a benefit of being a high roller.”

“All those nights in the casino paid off for you, I guess.” I couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of my voice.

He looked at me, startled. “I suppose so. The staff was very responsive when I asked for help. Apparently, they keep a few doctors and nurses on the payroll. The need for some quiet medical attention is not that uncommon here.”

Too convenient
, Henri hissed.
Almost as if he’d planned it
.

The suspicion that Henri planted entwined itself about my mind. Now that the idea was there, I couldn’t overlook it. It seemed so obvious. A cold, calculating fury, stoked with the embarrassment of being so naïve, started taking over my brain.

“I guess I’m lucky I’m in bed and not a pillar of ash, huh?” My mouth twisted as the lame jest left my lips.

He grunted with disgust, his hands gripping the rails of the hospital bed so hard that his knuckles turned white. “It’s not funny, Hope. You could have been killed.
I
could have killed you. The one thing I vowed I would never do, and I nearly did it because of my own selfishness.”

He had given me the opening, so I took it.

“Why didn’t you?”

I heard the sharp intake of his breath and saw the shock on his face. “You can’t mean that.”

Don’t let him squirm away. You deserve the truth
.

“It would have been easier for you. Just to let me die.”

His eyes glittered brightly. He reached for me, but stopped himself. “I thought—”

“You thought what?” I replied, tapping into the hurt I hadn’t even realized was there. “You thought that you could just tell me you loved me and everything would be better? That then I would ignore the impossible situation that we’re in? Ignore that there is only one way this could ever end?”

“But you asked me to—”

My voice cracked as the words rushed out, cutting him off. “I asked you to do something, and you did it—without giving me the full picture of what that would mean.”

I thought about how I’d pushed him, begged him even, to prove he loved me with that kiss. A strangled sound emerged from my throat as I realized that I’d only made it worse for myself. I was going to have to live for the rest of my life knowing what it was like to be touched by Michael just for that one exquisite moment before all hell broke loose. Nothing would ever possibly compare to that—my first kiss. I would have to deal with a memory of something that I would never, ever have again. Whatever sweetness I could have salvaged from that memory would be cut by the bitter realization that I would never know if Michael truly loved me—loved me so much he couldn’t help himself—or if this had all been part of some sick game he’d been playing with me. My head pounded as the next, obvious conclusion fought its way to the forefront of my mind.

Before I could stop myself, I voiced the idea. “Maybe you did this on purpose.”

I felt the sting of tears on my face again. I sniffed and dragged one of my bandaged arms across my face. I stared at Michael, daring him to contradict me, wanting him to contradict me, but his face was a mask. His eyes had gone dark, shutting me out.

“Perhaps it is better this way. Better for you to be wary.” He sounded tired, defeated.

“Maybe it is,” I agreed, turning away from him to bury my face in the pillow.

“I’ll get the nurse to give you more morphine,” he sighed. He stood up and made as if to go.

“Don’t,” I said suddenly.

He stopped. “Don’t go?”

“No,” I said, sitting up in the bed, trying not to wince. “Don’t
get the morphine. I don’t want any more drugs. I need to be alert.” Throughout the whole conversation, in the back of my mind, an idea had been taking shape. It was spinning and twisting and now it was coming to the forefront, demanding my attention, demanding its voice.

“Why?” he asked, puzzled.

As if you didn’t have reason enough to be on your guard
, Henri snorted.
Next chance he gets, he may burn you to a crisp
.

The image of my childhood abductor melted to ash in the motel bathroom, captured forever in the faded photograph pressed into my mother’s scrapbook, rose unbidden in my mind. I forced myself to ignore it. Grimacing, I threw one leg over the side of the bed, preparing to push off. “I need to be alert when we go to the Chinese.”

Michael looked at me, confused. I continued explaining to him as I stretched out a foot, carefully gaining my balance.

“It couldn’t be more obvious. Look at me.” I gestured about with my bandaged arms. “They didn’t trust you because they thought you didn’t have me under control, right? But now, as far as they know, you punished me for embarrassing you in front of your friends. A nice faceful of acid, right?” I hovered there, the pain suddenly intense. A wave of nausea came over me and I held my breath, waiting for it to pass, before continuing. “You show them you’re tough, you show them you’re in charge. You show them that you know how to take care of your own. You save face. Problem solved. We get back in.”

His face folded into stony crags and he crossed his arms emphatically. “There’s no way I am letting you do that.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I hissed at him. “If you want that Key, you need me. And I want Maria. This is the only hope we have of getting back in there and finding her.”

He stared at me, his hard eyes turning pleading. “You should be resting. You could get hurt.”

“I already am hurt,” I snapped at him. “It might as well be for a good reason. Besides, the doctor said I could be mobile within twenty-four hours.”

He stood, frozen at the foot of my bed, unsure.

“How do you know what the doctor said?” he asked.

“Never mind how, but I know I heard him say that. And you heard him, too. By the time we get in it will have almost been that long. So what do you say? You owe me this much, Michael.”

He waited, torn.

I hardened my heart. “If you say no, then your true intentions will be clear. No more pretending.”

Finally, he dropped his head, nodding in assent. “I’ll make the call.”

seventeen

F
ive hours later we were driving down Spring Mountain Road. The nurse had thrown a holy fit when she’d realized that we were planning to leave the safety of our cocoon, threatening to call the doctors, but Michael had paid her off with a stack of chips he’d stashed away in a drawer. Satisfied, she’d slipped off. We were safe until morning, when the shift change was supposed to take place. Hopefully by then we’d be back.

Now we were driving through the glow of neon from the signs of endless rows of Chinese and Thai restaurants. We were in the heart of Las Vegas’s tiny Chinatown, on our way to meet the men who held Maria.

Every time Michael changed lanes or swerved, my entire body screamed with pain. I was taking nothing but triple doses of ibuprofen now, trying to keep my head clear for whatever lay ahead. Each time the pain came, I breathed deeply, talking myself through it until it crested and left my aching body. Even though it hurt, it was a welcome distraction from the gaping quiet that filled the car
and the ache of the distance between Michael and me, which had somehow grown even deeper. He had put on the guise of my father once more as easily as making a change of clothes, but this time I couldn’t tell if the change made it easier or harder for me to be around him.

“This doesn’t seem that sinister,” I said in an effort to break the silence, peering out the window at the concrete sidewalks and strip malls crowding the street.

“Not unless you’re looking closely. There are about two massage parlors for every restaurant—see?” Michael said, looking out the windshield and pointedly refusing to look at me. “And some awfully long lines for this time of night.”

“Where are we going?”

He pushed a piece of paper at me, stretching his arm to cover the distance between our seats. “This is their private compound. There’s a game there tonight.”

He turned onto a side street, and suddenly we were in a neighborhood filled with bland apartment buildings and townhouses. Block after block, everything looked the same, as if it had been stamped out by some giant cookie cutter from the sky.

“Really? This is it?” I turned the paper over in my hands, thinking there had to be some mistake.

He shrugged. “I guess they like to be close to their business. And you have to admit that it is pretty inconspicuous.”

He peered at the numbers mounted on the curb and pulled into the drive of a large complex, stopping at the gate. The sudden jolt and strain of my burns against the seat belt made me gasp, and he looked over at me.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

I gritted my teeth. “Yes, I do. Just get us through the gate.”

Michael’s mouth twisted into a frown before he punched some numbers into the keypad. The wrought iron barrier shuddered and then sprang to life, swinging wide to let us in. The car noiselessly pulled through, winding through the maze of inner streets until we reached the very back of the development.

We parked and sat, neither of us saying anything.

“I don’t have much of a plan,” he warned.

“I don’t think we’ll need one,” I said with confidence. He darted me a confused look. “I just have a feeling,” I said. “I think she’s going to be here. Maybe she’s already here now.”

Michael shook his head, frowning. “I’m not feeling anything.”

My curiosity got the best of me. “Do you normally feel something, then?”

His jaw tensed. “I thought I explained that before. I’m drawn to the places and people I am supposed to be helping.”

I ignored his bad temper and pressed on. “Even when you’re not on a mission from Heaven? Even for something like this, for Maria?”

He yanked his keys from the ignition, tucking them under the rug instead of into his pocket. “Normally. But not tonight. Get out of the car.”

He was out of the car, slamming his door hard before I had a chance to ask him any more questions. I eased my way out of the passenger side, being careful not to brush my body up against anything. My bandages caught the low moon and seemed to glow in the dark. Michael was waiting for me at the foot of a set of steps.

“After you,” he said, giving a curt nod of his head to indicate that I should lead the way. I edged my way up, leaning heavily on the railing, wincing as each fresh blast of pain rippled through my body. At the first landing, I paused to catch my breath.

“Do you want to go back down and wait in the car?” Michael asked.

“No,” I answered from between gritted teeth. “Not on your life.”

I looked up the remaining flight of stairs. A sliver of light escaped from the blinds where someone was peeking out. Whoever it was, they allowed the blinds to drop, and the stairs fell into darkness. I continued climbing, my breath growing heavier with the effort to keep moving through the pain.

Michael snorted impatiently. “I’m not sure how you being here actually helps,” he muttered.

“You forget: without me here, you’re shut out. You need me to get admittance to the inner sanctum.” My nerves were on edge, and his constant sniping wasn’t helping.

“Just don’t get in the way once we’re inside.”

I bit back my response. He was right, of course.

I let out a deep breath as I made it to the top of the steps. “Go ahead,” I said between gasps, shuffling aside to make room for Michael. He pushed past me and rapped on the door once. Twice.

We waited for what seemed like forever before the door swung open. An enormous Asian man, his hair pulled back into a topknot, glared out at us. His gigantic head pivoted around as he looked to see if we were alone.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he took us in.

“Carmichael. With the girl, of course,” he added nonchalantly.

The man gave a nod of grudging respect. “The boss is expecting you.” He stepped back, gesturing at us to come through the door. “Go down this hallway. He’s waiting for you there.”

We heard the slam of the door and the click of locks sliding into place as we walked away. The hallway seemed to go around the perimeter of the building, its plain expanse punctuated here and
there by windows that were mostly boarded up. Michael walked along, assessing it with the calculating eye of an experienced warrior. I trailed behind him, ignoring the protests of my body.