Last Kiss Goodnight Page 15

  He popped his jaw. He had no immediate solution for that, which meant he had to try another angle. "Do you like the life you lead? Hiding under mobile homes? Sneaking food to prisoners?"

  Growling low in her throat, she slapped at the bars. "No, but I have a plan. A plan that will work better than yours, thank you. I just have to wait for the perfect time."

  Ah. Her mysterious plan. "There will never be a more perfect time than this moment. I'm here. I'm willing." He spread his arms to draw her attention to a hard-won strength far superior to her father's. "I will do what I say I will do. I will save you, protect you. And why would you care about the others, anyway? They hate you."

  Back up went her chin. "Here's a little lesson you should probably take to heart. Anyone who returns hate for hate is no better than my father, and I won't trade one monster for another."

  How dare she compare him to Jecis! Even though he had done the same to himself. He wanted to yell at her.

  He also wanted to hug her.

  He definitely wanted to kiss her.

  "If you walk away from me, Vika, you condemn me to death." A stretching of the truth, and a definite manipulation, but why not? Everything else had proved futile.

  The flush drained from her cheeks, leaving her as pallid as Dr. E. "I spend every spare second searching for the key to the cuffs. I have for years, in fact. I'll find it. I will free you."

  The announcement floored him. For years, she'd said. She'd been trying to help the captives for years.

  Solo reached through the bars. She flinched, but didn't dart away. With anyone else, he would have taken such a reaction personally and raged. But with her, with her past, he knew better and allowed himself to trace his fingertip along the curve of her jaw. So soft, so smooth.

  Her breathing quickened--but she still didn't leave.

  He wasn't going to convince her to do what he wanted. He knew that now. She was too stubborn, too blinded by the merits of her plan. And there were merits. There just weren't enough.

  He would have to join her. For now. "I've studied the cuffs. The key is probably metal, with a slender belly and two fat ends. Look for something in the shape of the letter eight."

  "I will," she rasped, and licked her lips. "And thank you."

  His arm fell to his side. If he continued to touch her, he would give in to his urge to cup her nape and tug her forward. To steal the air from her lungs. If that happened, he would stop listening for her father.

  She backed away from him. "This is our last day in the city. After the last show, we'll pack up and leave. Jecis will keep you here, wanting you nearby during your first trip. I'll return to you when I can." A nervous laugh left her. "If I can."

  With that cryptic statement, she spun and raced from the area, never glancing back.

  "Why--" he began, only to slam his lips together. She couldn't hear him.

  He punched the bars. He hated his captivity, yes, but deep down, a part of him hated watching that woman walk away more.

  Fifteen

  A man of understanding will acquire wise counsel.

  --PROVERBS 1:5

  VIKA WEIGHED HER OPTIONS. Her father suspected she had been feeding Solo. He would question her, intimidate her, and he would discern the truth. There would be no hiding it; there never was, and she'd known that before she'd acted. But still she'd been unable to stop herself from helping the injured otherworlder. Even now, it wasn't a decision she regretted. He had warned her about what awaited her, despite the fact that she could have packed a bag and left him in the dust.

  I should have freed him.

  But . . . she didn't want to be without him. Somehow, he had become a safe haven.

  He was so beautiful, more beautiful with every day that passed. And he was so sweet to her, so wonderfully protective.

  Constantly she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him while he was awake, and then, to be kissed by him. Because he wanted her, not because he wanted something from her. In fact, all during their conversation she'd wondered.

  Now she had to know. It was a need.

  He was a need.

  His scent, his gaze, his touch, his heat, the calluses on his hands. His smile, his frown, his wit, his kindness. She hadn't gotten over the fact that he'd used his body as a shield to save her from a bullet already meant for him.

  Everything about him appealed to her.

  Yes, she should have freed him--but she was still glad she hadn't. Not just for her selfish reasons, but because he was better off here, trapped, than out there, being hunted by her father.

  If she'd thought, even for a second, that he could successfully hide from Jecis with those cuffs on his wrists, she would have done it, would have risked it. But no. He couldn't. No one could.

  The best course was for her to stay here, take care of the otherworlders, and take whatever discipline her father dished out. It would hurt, it would humiliate her, but if Jecis beat her, the wedding would have to be delayed to give her time to recover. Time was all she needed. But oh, knowing what she'd have to endure caused a shudder of revulsion and fear to rock her.

  She just . . . she had to find that key. At least now she knew what to look for.

  Vika changed into a soft, comfortable tee and flowing pants, something she could relax in while feeling as if her organs were nothing more than mush. She pulled on her most comfortable boots and reclaimed the knife she'd found in her mother's favorite trinket box a few years ago, only to stop, her attention caught on the beauty of the weapon.

  The hilt was carved from mother-of-pearl and when held to the light glistened with all the colors of the rainbow. The blade was currently hidden, but when released was thin and silver and sharp.

  How could something so lovely hurt so absolutely?

  Her mother used to polish the metal with loving strokes, but only when Jecis was absent. Three weeks before her death, she had glanced up at Vika and smiled a little crazily. One day he'll push me too far, and I'll kill him. We won't ever have to be afraid again, will we, princess?

  One day.

  Now Vika laughed without humor. "One day" was the answer to everything, wasn't it.

  "How could you leave me with him, Momma?" she whispered. He'd only grown worse over the years, more and more of his heart rotting and his soul withering. And the truly sad thing was, he had no idea he'd become a monster. He still considered himself fair and just. "How could you pick another man over me?"

  With a sigh, Vika stuffed the blade inside her pocket.

  Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men, and arming yourself for war is wise.

  The voice startled her, and she spun. A swift search proved she was still alone, and her spine lost its sudden rigidity. Alarm was replaced by anticipation. Not an intruder, after all, but the return of the good . . . whatever he was.

  "Who are you?" she asked. "What are you?"

  Last time, he'd ignored her. This time, he answered. My name is X, and I am your . . . helper.

  X. "As in, X marks the spot?"

  Exactly.

  "Just how are you supposed to help me, X?"

  You tell me. You summoned me.

  Uh, no. No, she hadn't. "I think I would remember something like that."

  But you do not think I can feel your torment?

  Her emotions were so strong she was projecting them into the other realm? "You mentioned war," she said. "You seem so, well, gentle. Shouldn't you have a problem with the use of force?"

  Against wickedness? May it never be!

  Good point. But, "I don't want war," she said. "I want peace." Finally. For once.

  How do you think peace is won?

  War, but . . . "How do you think people are lost?"

  And you're not lost right now?

  Her motions were jerky as she anchored her thick mass of hair into a ponytail. "I'm alive."

  And you like your life?

  Solo had asked her the very same thing. "What can I do to change it? Tell me, please, because I
'm certainly doing everything I can and having no luck."

  Trust.

  "Who?"

  Silence.

  "Who?" she demanded.

  Again silence.

  Annoyed by such an abrupt end to their conversation, she stomped from the vehicle. Behind her, the door shut and locked automatically.

  She was supposed to remain in her trailer again today, but she wanted to deal with her father rather than run, and she wanted to get it over with. Waiting would only make things worse.

  The sun was bright, glaring. In an hour, the circus would open. Right now performers bustled about, setting up shop while trying to pack up everything they wouldn't need. The day would be hectic. And oh, was Solo in for a shock. When the circus left the outskirts of New Atlanta, he would meet a whole new crop of monsters--and he would grow to love the bars that contained him.

  Don't think about that right now. She might lose her nerve.

  Vika raced out of the sectioned-off area where the performers lived and through the games and rides. First she bypassed the big wheel. Soon, each basket would twirl round and round and upside down as a performer swung from the bar stretched across each cart. None of the patrons would realize those performers were anchored to the bars with flesh-colored cuffs and weren't in any danger of flying to their deaths.

  Next she passed the roller coaster that would shoot through man-made tunnels decorated to resemble different planets, each one filled with bright lights, mystical holograms, and spooky mist. Only, the mist wasn't there for visual effect, as the humans always assumed. It was there for physical effect. In the particles was a small dose of adrenaline, making the ride seem more exciting than it actually was.

  After that, the bumper cars came into view. An electric shock would be delivered to every driver who was hit. For some reason, people loved watching their fellow humans jerk against the sting, loved hearing the ensuing curses and growls, loved being chased at high speed, where revenge was eventually taken.

  She turned a corner and entered the food court, the scent of fried bread and meats wafting through the air, followed by caramel and citrus. Once she cleared the canopy overhead and snaked around another corner, the games Jecis used to earn even more cash from the otherworlders who had already lost their appeal came into view. Pin the Tail on the Wedlg, Rakan Pinata, and the Delensean Rack-and-Sack were the current crowd favorites.

  Tears beaded at the backs of Vika's eyes. Hardly anyone peeled back that layer of "fun" to peek at the seedy underbelly of the circus. The tricks, the lies, the cruelty. People came and they played and they laughed. They watched the performances in Big Red and marveled, captivated by feats no human--or otherworlder--should be able to do. And then they left, totally ignorant to the evil they had just supported.

  Finally the main tent came into view, a big, red monstrosity her father had patterned after the circuses of old, and Vika tripped over her own feet. Jecis was inside, preparing for the first show.

  Trust, X suddenly said. Set the otherworlders free. Walk away. Today. Now. This minute. Never look back.

  How she would have loved that. "If I do, they'll only be captured again."

  Trust.

  "You don't understand."

  Don't I?

  Vika reached the entrance and swept inside. Bleachers filled every inch of space that wasn't used by the center ring, and of course, the hidden space in back where the performers changed. In the ring were spotlights, poles, wires, nets, equipment, boulders, and smoke machines.

  As a little girl, she had dreamed of having an act of her own and making her father proud. Now, she was very glad he'd always denied her request, too afraid someone would see her, want her, and take her, even back then. To be stared at, judged, and critiqued by strangers? No, thank you.

  A hard hand latched onto her forearm and forced her to turn. Mini-bombs of fear exploded through her when her gaze landed on Matas, who was glaring down at her, a blazing fire in his eyes.

  "What are you doing here, Vika? You're supposed to be in your trailer."

  I will not cower. "Have you forgotten rule number one?" she forced herself to snap.

  A cruel grin lifted the corners of his mouth. "We're going to be married at the end of the month, which means your rules are out and mine are in. And do you want to know the first one? You do what I say, when I say, or I hurt you in ways you cannot even imagine. And don't forget you owe me for letting Kitten go unscathed."

  There's still time to leave, X said.

  I can handle this, she assured herself, even as her blood chilled in her veins. "My father will not be amused. He doesn't want you to mistreat me."

  "Actually, I think he'll change his mind when he sees this." Matas held out his free hand. A small, black device rested in the center of his palm. He used his thumb to press the button in the center, and a blue screen crystallized in the air.

  Colors flickered inside that screen, a picture soon forming.

  Vika, inside Solo's cage. Vika, bathing him. Vika, kissing him.

  Leave, Vika. Leave now, X beseeched. Run to Solo.

  Oh, sweet mercy. She wanted to, she really did, but she had to contain this situation first. If her father ever saw this, Solo would be killed. "D-don't show him, Matas. Please."

  His fingers closed over the device, and the screen vanished. "I hid a camera in the zoo a while back. I've been watching you, and I know you've been giving the animals treats they were never meant to have. Treats your father paid for. I always let that slide, but this . . . no. I can't."

  Her knees shook, threatening to buckle. "I'll run away," she threatened. "If you tell him, I'll leave. I'll help the authorities find the circus and shut it down, and you'll end up without a job."

  Vika, please. Listen to me. Never try to bargain with evil.

  "You do not threaten me," Matas growled--just before he backhanded her.

  Her head whipped to the side, her cheek stinging. The taste of blood coated her tongue. Another beating, and from a male who repulsed her? No. No! She wouldn't let that happen.

  She grabbed her blade and struck, slamming the tip as deep into Matas's side as possible. Maybe he roared, maybe he didn't, but he did stumble away from her. And as he stood there panting and gaping at her, she looked down at the crimson-soaked blade. Horror washed through her, her blood no longer cold but frigid, little ice crystals making her feel heavy, achy.

  She'd just stabbed someone. She'd just hurt someone in the worst possible way. Maybe she'd even killed him. Yes, she'd done it to protect herself, but it was still something her father would have done.

  I can't be like him. I just can't.

  Oh, Vika, X said sadly. I'm sorry.

  "You're going to pay for that." Scowling, Matas thundered toward her, closing the distance before she could back away. He slammed his meaty fist into the side of her head, knocking her to the ground.

  Another impact, her brain rattling against her skull.

  He punched her a second time. And just like that, it was lights out for Vika.

  Sixteen

  When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.

  --ISAIAH 43:2

  SOLO HEARD THE TWO men arguing before he saw them, his ears twitching as he listened. He'd expected X, who had popped in a few minutes ago to cryptically say, "Control yourself, for she has need of your aid, not your temper," before vanishing. But no, this wasn't X.

  "I'll kill you, Matas."

  He recognized the harshness of the voice, knew it belonged to Jecis.

  "I told you I was sorry."

  "That doesn't make it better!"

  "I showed you the video. You know what she did."

  "And it's a problem, but it's my problem. You should have come to me. Should have let me handle it. Now--" A wild roar of rage Solo had heard only once before--from himself, the day he'd discovered his parents' decomposed bodies. "You were to get her pregnant, make her want to stay, give her something to do.
The look in her eyes lately, just like before, when she--but you ruined everything!"

  Matas was to impregnate . . . Vika? Despite the fact that she disliked the brute?

  "I gave you a gift," Jecis continued shakily, "my most treasured possession, and you broke it. I should exile you from my circus."

  "She stabbed me, and I reacted," Matas said, his own voice shaky. "It will never happen again. Like I said, I'm sorry."

  "Not accepted! You nearly killed her with those blows."

  "Let me take care of her. I'll make her better with my magic."

  Her. She. They had better not be discussing Vika.

  "You're not touching her again. If any other man had put me in this situation . . . if any other man had hurt my baby like this . . ."

  His baby. They were discussing Vika. Solo didn't hear the rest of the conversation. He was on his feet and squeezing the bars a second later, dread barraging him, right along with fury and desperation . . . so much desperation . . . But he couldn't act on a single emotion, not with the cuffs shooting debilitating drugs into his system.

  What had been done to her? How badly had she suffered? Would she survive?

  Questions, questions, so many questions formed, but one fact crystallized: He would repay the one responsible. Not because he'd decided to use Vika to escape. Not because he'd realized she was his only hope. But because. Just because.

  He was quite certain vengeance would finally feel good.

  "Remain calm. Remember what I told you. She needs tenderness right now," X said, popping in and looking slightly weaker than before, his skin not quite as bright.

  "Help her," he demanded.

  "I tried, but I cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped. No one can."

  Finally Jecis and Matas stomped around a corner, entering his line of sight. Both men were scowling. Jecis cradled Vika in his arms. Vika, who looked like a broken doll.

  Solo's knees almost gave out. Pale hair cascaded around her in tangled hunks. One arm hung limply. The other was smashed against Jecis's chest. Her face was smashed against his chest, as well, hiding any damage there.

  The fury at last detonated, and he uttered a roar that rivaled Jecis's. Both men tripped over their own feet.

  "Calm." X said. "You must stay calm."

  The males were coming closer and closer to Solo's cage, so close their evil brushed against his skin. His heart hammered as though trying to drill a nail into one of his ribs. He'd never been one to enjoy his job, to take delight in snuffing out life, but he would have enjoyed and delighted this time.