Salvation (9 page)

I pulled off Skye’s backpack and located
his sweatshirt, which I draped over his naked torso like a blanket before
checking his pulse again. It was strong and steady, if still a bit quick. As I
was deciding what to do next, a couple men rounded the corner and began walking
toward us. One of them was the man that had handed Skye a drink when he left
the stage. Definitely not good. I raised Skye’s head and put the backpack under
it like a pillow, then stood up and placed myself between his unconscious form
and the two men.

The one I hadn’t seen before said
cheerfully, “Hi there, cutie. We were wondering what happened to our boy Skye
there when he didn’t come back after his break. He’d been drinking a lot
tonight, looks like he passed out. How about if we help you get him home?”

“No thanks.” Everything about this situation
felt wrong, and I knew these two were lying about Skye’s drinking. Fear
prickled down my spine but I held my ground, subtly glancing around the alley
for something to use as a weapon if and when they got aggressive.

“We just wanna help,” the man said as
they came closer. “Our car’s right around the corner, and your friend obviously
needs a lift.”

“You need to back off,” I said, fighting
to keep my voice firm and steady.

Their smiles faded, replaced with a cold
glint in their eyes. The man who’d given Skye the drink said, his voice a
menacing growl, “That boy’s bought and paid for. You need to get the fuck out
of our way, sonny.”

He started to step forward, so I spun to
my left and pulled a slat from a wooden pallet that was leaning against the
back of the building. It broke off in a long, jagged spike, which I pointed at
them and bluffed, “You
really
don’t want to mess with me. Now turn and
walk away, and no one gets hurt.” I was completely terrified, but I’d learned
how to disguise my fear a long time ago. That skill was coming in really handy
at the moment.

I was surprised that my threats actually
worked. The two of them could have overpowered me with minimal effort, but
instead they looked worried as they turned and fled the alley. Just when I was feeling
like a real badass, a familiar voice behind me said, “That was impressive. I’m
proud of you for not backing down.”

I turned to face Vincent. “Don’t tell
me, let me guess. They were actually running from
you
, not me.” He
shrugged noncommittally, and I asked, “What did you do to chase them off? Did
you point a gun at them?”

“Not as far as you know.” He came up
beside Skye, dropped into a crouch and checked his pulse. “What happened to
your friend?”

“I don’t know. I assume he was slipped
some kind of date rape drug, especially after that ‘bought and paid for’
comment, but I’m just guessing. Since you’re here, think you can help me get
him to the hospital?” I tossed the improvised weapon aside, then looked at my
aching hand. I’d managed to drive several big splinters into my palm.

“Sure.” He picked Skye up effortlessly
and I grabbed the backpack before heading out of the alley.

“So, you followed me here,” I said. It
wasn’t a question.

“That club is a cesspool. I was
concerned about you coming here on your own.”

“And you did that right after I said we
shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

“Well, I didn’t think this qualified as
seeing each other.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant
that you still came and checked on me. That was really nice of you, Vincent.”

When we reached the street, he stopped
beside a black Jaguar, took a set of keys from his pocket and pressed a button
on the fob. Then he swung the door open and carefully loaded Skye onto the back
seat. I climbed in after him and cradled Skye’s head on my lap as Vincent got
behind the wheel and started the engine.

“Do you have a different car so you
won’t be recognized by murderous thugs?” I asked as I idly brushed Skye’s
shaggy blue hair back from his forehead.

“Exactly,” Vincent said, pulling out
into traffic.

We’d gone a couple blocks when Skye’s
dark eyelashes fluttered. He stirred a bit and then looked up at me, his face
erupting into a big smile. “Hey there, Trevor.”

“Hi Skye. How do you feel?”

He thought about that for a moment, then
said, “Groggy.” After glancing around at his surroundings, he asked, “Where are
we going?”

“The hospital.”

“Why? You sick?” He knit his brows in
concern.

“No. I think you were drugged.”

He sat up, the sweatshirt that had been
draped over him pooling in his lap. “I don’t remember taking anything.”

“I think it might have been slipped to
you in a drink.”

He looked down at himself. “Did I finish
my shift already?” He was rubbing his forehead, and I noticed that he’d painted
his short fingernails with dark blue polish.

“Not exactly.” I gave him a brief
summary of the night’s events. When I finished, he leaned back against the seat
and just absorbed what I’d told him for a while. He was still rubbing his
forehead, so I asked, “Do you have a headache?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to go to the
hospital, though. I can’t afford a medical bill.”

“You sure?” He nodded, and I said,
“Okay, then we’ll take you home.”

“No! Not yet, not until I get it
together a little. River’s there, and he’ll kill me! He’s really
overprotective. He doesn’t know I work in that club, or
worked
, I guess,
and finding out I may have been drugged will just totally freak him out.”

“Okay. We can go to my place,” I said.
“I’m just not sure how you’ll do climbing five flights of stairs, since you
still seem a bit woozy.”

“If you’d like, I can take you to my
apartment,” Vincent said from the front seat. “It’s not far. That way, Skye can
collect himself a bit before heading home.”

“That’d be great,” Skye said. “Hi, by
the way, Vincent.”

“Hello, Skye.”

“I thought Nana said something about you
living with her,” I remarked as Vincent took a left turn and started heading
toward China Basin.

“I’ve been staying with her for a few
months, ever since she suffered a mild heart attack. She doesn’t really need me
there, but I wanted to keep an eye on her.”

“You’re a caretaker,” Skye observed,
smiling at Vincent in the rearview mirror. “That’s cute. My brother’s the same
way. That’s less cute, though. He tries to act like my parent, despite the fact
that he’s only three years older than me.”

I changed the subject by saying, “When
we get to Vincent’s apartment, we need to call the police and report this. If
you were drugged, the people who did that to you should be held accountable.”

“I don’t want to go to the police. Who
knows what really happened? Maybe I just had too much to drink on an empty
stomach,” Skye murmured. He looked a little lost, so I reached out and took his
hand.

“They made some comment about you being
bought and paid for. To me, that sounded like they might have worked out some
sort of deal with the club owner or something. Do you know anything about
that?” I asked him.

“No, and that’s pretty disturbing. I
mean, I got propositioned all the time working there, and sometimes men offered
to pay me for sex, but I always turned them down. Prostitution wasn’t actually
in my job description.” He fell silent after that, resting his head on my
shoulder for the remainder of the drive.

Soon we pulled into a gated parking area
beneath an upscale condo complex. It was close to the bay, and just a few
blocks from the baseball stadium. Skye was still a little unsteady on his feet,
so I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him to the elevator, which
Vincent accessed with a key card.  

Once we got to the spacious top floor
apartment, I sat on the couch with my friend while Vincent brought him some
ibuprofen and a glass of water. Skye slipped off his shoes, then curled up with
his arms around me as I held him securely. “I guess I’m too trusting,” he
murmured after a while. “River always said it would get me into trouble. I hate
to think what would have happened if you hadn’t come along tonight, Trevor.”

He dozed off after a while and I settled
him onto the sofa. I planned to let him sleep it off for a bit, then bring him
to my apartment when he seemed steady enough to climb all those stairs. I
texted River so he wouldn’t worry when Skye didn’t come home, saying only that
his brother was going to spend the night with me. It really wasn’t my place to
spill Skye’s secrets.

I returned my phone to my pocket and
took a look at my surroundings. Vincent’s home was sleek, modern, and
absolutely pristine, a study in white and shades of grey. It was the kind of
place where you’d never put your shoes on the furniture or set a drink down for
fear of ruining something expensive. It didn’t seem like anyone could be
comfortable living here.

I went to look for our host, and found
him on a little balcony with a Kindle Fire, the screen reflected in his
glasses. He set it aside when he saw me and asked, “How’s your friend?”

“Okay, I guess. He’s napping now.” I
fidgeted a bit, scratching my palm, and said, “Thank you for helping us.”

“You’re welcome. Sit down if you’d
like.”

I perched on the chair beside Vincent
and looked out over the bay. This wasn’t the postcard view the tourists saw,
but it was interesting. A huge cargo ship moved slowly in the distance, and the
Bay Bridge off to my left loomed solid and imposing. I tilted my face into the
gentle breeze and let myself relax a bit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, gesturing
toward my hands. I was still scratching.

“Yeah. I just picked up a few splinters
when I went for that makeshift weapon in the alley.”

He grinned a little. “That was
impressive.”

I smiled too. “You know, for a minute
there, I thought I was pretty awesome. Until I realized you’d chased those
scumbags off, not me.”

“You’re a lot tougher than I’d have
guessed. You didn’t need my help.”

“I’m not really. I just try my best to
protect the people I care about.”

Vincent picked up my injured hand,
turning it over in his. “These splinters look pretty bad. Come on, I’ll help
you remove them before they get infected.”

We got up and I followed him to a
half-bath off the kitchen, where he located a first aid kit. “Sit up here and
turn toward the light,” he told me, indicating the marble vanity. I did as he
said. He found some tweezers, then tilted my palm up and looked closely at the
little wood shards, knitting his brows.

He was so close to me that I could feel
the warmth of his body and breathe in his scent. Vincent always smelled faintly
of cologne, but right underneath that was his own natural scent, clean and
masculine and heady. I really didn’t know why he bothered with fragrance when
he already smelled absolutely tantalizing.

“What are you doing?”

I opened my eyes and blinked at him, a
blush rushing to my cheeks as I stammered, “Nothing. Why? What did it look like
I was doing?”

“Sniffing me.” A little smile curled the
corner of his mouth.

“Oh. Well, yeah, I was doing that. You
just...you smell good.” Gah! Awkward.

“The cologne’s by Tom Ford. I forget the
name.”

“Not the cologne. Which is great, don’t
get me wrong.”

He was still grinning ever-so-slightly
as he turned his attention back to my palm. “This might hurt a little. I
apologize in advance.”

And then he struck like a cobra, jabbing
the fleshy part of my palm with the pointy little tweezers and yanking out a
big splinter. I yelped in surprise, then exclaimed, “Holy crap! What was that,
attack ninja splinter removal? Go easier next time!”

“I had a theory that faster was better.
Obviously I was mistaken.”

He shook the splinter into the garbage,
then came back for more. This time he worked very slowly, dragging another big
shard out a tiny bit at a time. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I said, “Oh
man, that’s way worse. Go back to the attack ninja thing.”

“Okay.” He plucked the splinter out
quickly, and I winced. “Hate to tell you, but those were the easy ones,” he
said. “The smaller ones are going to be harder to dig out.”

“Do what you have to do.”

As he concentrated on the task at hand
(ha!) I tried not to stare at him and totally failed. A lock of his thick,
jet-black hair had fallen forward, hanging across his eyebrow and the rim of
his glasses. I quickly jammed my free hand underneath me, because that was the
only way I could stop myself from reaching up and brushing it back.

“Do I want to know why you’re sitting on
your hand?” he asked, still focused on my palm.

“I’m trying to keep myself from touching
you,” I admitted.

His dark eyes flickered up to meet my
gaze. He’d been leaning forward, my right hand cupped in his left, his face
just inches from mine. My heart raced as he watched me for a long moment.
Finally he said, “Ah,” and returned his attention to the splinters.