by Gail Dayton
No. She knew she would lose. But that was okay, if she could slow him down a little. She struggled to get her hand back in her pocket. She had more nails.
Flash laughed and pumped his hips into her bottom. Marilyn gagged. Oh God, he was aroused.
"Go on, bitch. Fight me." He licked her earlobe. She struggled to keep from retching. "I like it that way."
He ran the flat of his knife up and down her neck, whispering all the horrible things he had in mind for her, while she worked her fingers deeper into her pocket. Finally, panting with fear and nausea, she touched a nail. With great care, she pulled it into her hand and out of her pocket.
If he would only move the knife away from her neck. If she stabbed him with the nail now, he might cut her throat in reflexive reaction. She wouldn't care so much, except that she'd be dead and unable to keep him from going after Slug. Please, God, Pete was already safe with Eli.
"I'm gonna take it out on you, bitch," Flash was saying.
Marilyn whimpered. He seemed to like that.
"So many damn cops around, I couldn't get back to the kid after I ditched your car."
Thank God.
"Took me hours to get back here. Now you done something with the merchandise I had stashed here, so you're gonna pay for that too." He slid the knife down into the hollow of her throat and into the neckline of the long-sleeved T-shirt she wore. "Think I'll start here."
He cut into the fabric, slicing open the front of her shirt.
The knife was turned away from her skin. Marilyn exposed the end of the nail and slammed it into the meaty thigh behind her, through black wool and into flesh.
Flash screamed. The knife jerked, tearing her shirt half open. She pounded the flat of her hand down on the nail head, hammering it in. He screamed again.
Marilyn jerked herself out of his grasp and ran for the stairs. She had her foot on the first one when Flash grabbed her arm. He yanked hard and she fell back, slamming her head against the cement wall.
He grabbed her, threw her across the room to the floor and again her head smacked concrete. Dazed, she fought to make her legs work, her arms, something. She had to get away. She had to find someone who could stop him, keep him from hurting Slug, other children.
Flash settled heavily to his knees, straddling her. She squirmed in an attempt to escape. His fist crashed into her face. Her last thought was that maybe he'd waste enough time torturing her that the police would be able to catch him.
Twenty-Three
***
Eli sprinted down the cross street, behind the flagging boy. The kid was gasping and stumbling, ready to collapse, but he kept trying. Eli grabbed him before he fell.
"Tell me where," he said. "Just tell me where."
He pointed, unable to speak past his heaving chest.
"There?" Eli pointed too, at one of the narrow, attached houses in the next block.
The boy staggered a few paces more, counting to himself. "There. Fifth house. Light in basement. Dark upstairs. She's down--"
Eli glanced back, saw a horde of cops, Joey and Detective Jackson in the lead, coming around the corner behind him. "Okay. Wait here. Tell them. Tell 'em, kid. I may need backup."
"Get--" He gasped again. "Get her out."
"Yeah. Don't go anywhere." Eli sprinted ahead, hoping like hell he wasn't too late. Hoping Flash wasn't with her. Hoping he was. Just hoping.
He found the house--a light bloomed low on one narrow side--and slammed through the front door. "Marilyn!"
Where the hell was the basement? He paused to listen, afraid to take the time, afraid not to. Faint noises came to him from down the long dark hall.
Wishing he had a flashlight, Eli moved down the hall and found a dim glow shining under a door. A silver padlock dangled open from its hasp. Eli whispered all the filthiest words he knew as he eased the door open.
The unlocked padlock had to mean Flash was here. Eli listened again. The noises were still faint. Breathing and grunting noises. Oh God.
He slipped through the doorway, walking on his toes to keep his boot heels from making noise on the wooden steps. Carefully he moved down them, crouching to see into the shadowy space below as soon as he possibly could.
Ice gripped his heart, froze his brain. Marilyn lay sprawled on the floor, blood blooming on the bare concrete around her head. Flash knelt over her, his back to the stairs. Unable yet to force his muscles to move, Eli watched, saw the knife in the other man's hand, saw it move, its use blocked from view by Flash's bulk. Marilyn whimpered and the ice holding Eli immobile melted in a rush of white-hot rage.
He didn't leap off the stairs in a roaring attack. He couldn't see where that knife was, couldn't see what it was doing. If he attacked, he could hurt Marilyn worse. Eli crept further down the stairs, thinking fast. He had to draw Flash away. The man wanted Eli, not Marilyn.
Eli jumped off the side of the stairway from a few steps up, abandoning his stealth to land with a thump on the hard floor. "You got the guts to take on a man instead of women and kids, you fucking coward?"
Flash looked over his shoulder and grinned. The one that had always sent cold chills through Eli's center. The chills mixed with the icy rage, sharpening his senses, making everything come clear. The knife hovered over Marilyn.
"Police!" The word echoed from a distance and Flash's head jerked up.
Footsteps rumbled overhead, moving slowly, cautiously through the house, checking every room. Flash moved faster.
He rose, whirled, charged all in one motion, knife low to slide into the gut. Eli slipped to one side, hand slashing out to seize the wrist with the knife. He twisted, pulled the arm behind Flash's back and heard the satisfying crack of bone. The knife clattered to the floor.
Eli kicked it away and backed out of the man's reach, circling to put himself between Flash and Marilyn. Her stillness terrified him. He fed the terror into his cold anger, using it. He heard her whimper with massive relief. She was alive. He intended to keep her that way.
Flash cradled his broken wrist, glaring hate at Eli. The door at the top of the stairs crashed open just as Flash attacked again. He moved faster than Eli thought possible for one of his growing bulk, grabbing him in a bear hug, using that bulk and strength to advantage. Eli used his head, bashing his forehead into Flash's face, again to the sound of bone popping.
"Don't move. Police."
Finally, they'd made it into the basement. Eli moved carefully away from Flash who had both hands over his just-broken nose. When the first cop down grabbed the big man and forced him to the floor, Eli dropped beside Marilyn.
Her face was so pale under the bright streaks of blood and the red stain of new bruises. He was afraid to touch her. "Marilyn?"
Was the pool of blood around her head bigger? Oh God, he had to stop it, had to stop the bleeding. But if he touched her, he might hurt her worse. "Where are the paramedics?" he yelled. Screamed it.
"They're coming." Jackson's deep voice rumbled, calming him a little.
"Stay with me, babe." Eli touched her hand. God, it was bloody too. But it didn't seem to be the source of the blood. He dared to curl his hand around it. "Stay with me."
Her eyelashes fluttered and his heart turned over. "'Li?"
"Yeah, babe."
"Pete?"
"Safe. He's safe. He's with Joey. Rest now, okay? Help's coming." Tears streamed down his face and he didn't care.
"Slug--where...?"
"Slug?"
"Boy--here. Got out--"
The boy in Marilyn's coat. Had to be. "Yeah. Yeah, he's fine. He found me."
"Take care--"
"Of the kid? Yeah, okay. No problem." The kid was the reason Eli'd found her before Flash had done anything more than cut her shirt open. After he'd slapped her around and cracked her head. He owed the kid, big time.
Paramedics appeared with their boxes of equipment. Eli moved back to give them room to work.
"Eli?" She fought them, her head twisting. Hunting him?
"Promise?" The word was barely a whisper, impossible to hear in all the noise around them as cops wrestled a screaming Flash up the stairs and paramedics worked over Marilyn. But Eli heard.
"I promise," he said.
Jackson squatted on the floor beside him. "How is she?"
"Making sense." Eli let go of her ankle as the paramedics checked for injuries other than the obvious ones to her head. She was moving her arms and legs, wiggling her toes when they took off her shoes and asked her to. A good sign, right?
"She nailed Dwayne." Jackson held up a bloody, three-inch nail. "Literally."
"Good." Eli listened to what Jackson had to say, what the police had found, unable to take his eyes off Marilyn, wincing along with her as the medics found the cut on the back of her head. They bandaged it, stopping the bleeding as new teams of cops swarmed into the basement with cameras, plastic gloves and paper bags.
"The kid upstairs, the one in her coat, claims to belong to you."
Eli met Jackson's gaze, understood the silent message, where the boy would go if Eli didn't go along. They could work out details later, but for now... "Yeah. He does."
More medics clattered downstairs, bringing the stretcher, a backboard and more equipment. They wanted to look at Eli's forehead where he'd hit Flash in the face, but he waved them off. He followed them upstairs and out of the house as they bore Marilyn off.
Joey stood on the sidewalk, both arms around Pete, when Eli emerged behind Marilyn's stretcher. "She's okay," he said. "She's gonna be okay." She had to be.
"Thank God." Joey reached out one-armed and pulled Eli into a hug. Pete joined in.
When Eli opened his eyes, still in the group hug, he saw the boy. Had Marilyn really called him Slug? He was standing near the ambulance. Someone had wrapped a blanket over the too-big coat he wore.
"Come on." Eli broke free and beckoned the others to join him as he approached the kid.
"Thanks, man." He put his hand out, willing the boy to take it. "You saved her life."
He stared at Eli's hand a second before shaking it. "Sure."
Joey was right behind, hand out. "From me too. I'm sorry about--you know, before. I went a little crazy, I guess."
The boy shook Joey's hand too. "Sure. I--no problem."
"Sir--" A paramedic put his head out the ambulance door. "Are you coming? She's asking for you."
"Yeah." Eli turned to go. "Listen, kid--Joey, bring him to the hospital with you, okay?"
"Gotcha."
Eli swung up into the ambulance, sat where they told him and clasped the hand Marilyn held out. He didn't understand why she wanted him here. This whole mess was his fault. But she asked and he'd promised. He wasn't going anywhere.
At the hospital, it didn't take the doctors long to agree that Marilyn's worst injury was a concussion, doubtless sustained from having her head banged against concrete one too many times. They stitched up the cuts on her head--the big one on the back and a smaller one right behind her left temple--and installed her in a bed upstairs to watch the head injury.
Flash had been brought to the same hospital and Eli took great pleasure in seeing his face swollen and purple as he waited for the busy doctors to find time to tend to his injuries.
Once Marilyn was in her room, the doctors allowed the rest of the family to come in and see her. She was asleep, tanked on pain pills, so they couldn't do more than look.
"She'll be okay," Eli said, looking at Pete's frightened face. "Her head's hurt so they're going to let her sleep here tonight, but tomorrow, if everything's still okay, we can bring her home."
"Promise?" Pete whispered.
Eli knelt beside his son. "No, I don't promise. It might not be tomorrow. Might be the next day. The doctors don't know for sure." He wished he could promise. His son didn't need any more heartache. Hell, neither did he.
"Want me to take the guys home?" Joey said.
"Yeah." Eli looked at Pete. "You okay with that, squirt? Staying with Joey? I promised Marilyn I'd stay with her, but if you're scared, we can work something else out."
"No, it's okay." Pete touched Marilyn's hand with a forefinger. "I didn't get hurt."
Eli looked up at the other person in the room. The older boy still hadn't spoken except to answer direct questions as briefly as possible and ask, once, how Marilyn was. He now wore a set of purple hospital scrubs under Marilyn's coat and a pair of slippers over bare feet. His eyes were moving uncertainly from Eli to Joey.
"Go home with Pete and Joey, okay, Slugger?" Eli slung an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Get some sleep. Come back in the morning and we can work stuff out."
Joey settled a hand on the back of Pete's neck. "Let's go home, huh? I'm tired and I didn't do squat."
"You're staying?" The older boy's voice cracked.
"I promised I would. I don't break promises." Eli held his gaze until he nodded and left the room with Marilyn's brother.
The high-backed visitor's chair wasn't what kept Eli jerking awake all night. Nor was it his need to make sure she was still breathing. It was the guilt.
Dwayne Gardner had entered her life, he had kidnapped her, beaten her, come within seconds of raping her, because Eli Court put him there.
What else would Eli do to her if he stayed in her life? It didn't matter that he'd never intended to do her harm. Trouble followed him.
He knew that, knew he was no good for her, no good for anybody, not even himself. But he'd let himself get talked into staying. Hell, he'd promised to stay. He had been stupid enough to let himself think maybe he could be a part of something good, be a father to his son, love a woman.
Eli sat straight up in his chair, staring through the dim nightlights at Marilyn as she slept, pale and bruised, in the hospital bed. Did he love her?
Was that why it hurt so much to see her lying there? Why he felt better being in the same room with her, even if she was asleep and injured? Was that love?
Probably so. Eli slumped back in the chair, marveling at the discovery. He'd never believed he was capable of such a thing, and here he was, in love. If he'd realized what was happening, he could have stopped it.
Or maybe not. "The heart finds its own way," all the stories said. Like you couldn't decide who to fall in love with or even whether to love at all. That seemed to be true from Eli's experience. He wouldn't have done it if he'd had any choice. So the next question was: What was he going to do about it?
The answer: Nothing.
If he let Marilyn know, she'd feel sorry for him, probably feel guilty for not loving him back. He couldn't take that. He never wanted her to feel one minute of sadness or regret. He didn't. As much as it hurt, knowing he loved alone, Eli would never regret loving Marilyn.
He still needed to get out of her life. He couldn't live like regular people, couldn't have the things others had. Because what he touched, he tarnished.
He'd been stupid to think things had changed, because he hadn't changed. He still carried the same dark rot around inside himself. He had to protect Pete and Marilyn from it.
Marilyn's head ached with a constant, dull pain, punctuated by the occasional piercing stab of agony when she thought about moving it. And some torture chamber attendant with cold hands was making her do more than just think about it. She was insisting that Marilyn open her eyes. Then she shone a spotlight in them.
"You feeling okay, babe?" Eli's voice spoke and Eli's hand curled around hers.
She blinked away the spots still dancing in her eyes and focused on his face. He hadn't shaved in a while, dark shadows circled his eyes and his caramel-colored hair stuck out in more directions than usual. He was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in forever.
"Hi." Marilyn smiled. Eli smiled back and the world stopped whirling around her. "You saved me."
Color rose above the stubble on his cheeks. "No, I just--"
"Shut up and acc
ept the fact that you're a hero, okay?" She squeezed his hand.
Eli clasped hers in both of his and lifted it to his mouth, leaning forward in the chair where he sat beside her bed. "How do you feel?"
"Worst headache I ever had, but it's not too bad." She struggled to sit up and the nurse, still in the room doing nurse things, punched the button to raise the head of the bed.
A knock sounded on the door and Joey put his head into the room. "Okay to come in? I got some guys who want to see for themselves how you are."
Marilyn beckoned and seconds later, Pete hurtled across the room, hauling up short just before he touched the bed. "Guess what? Slug stayed over last night. Can he come back?"
She looked at the older boy hovering near the door in his purple hospital scrubs, her coat folded over his arms. Something about the way he hovered, as if longing to join in but not sure of his welcome, brought tears to her eyes. "Sure, if he wants to. If they'll let him. There's probably some paperwork."
"I can do that," Eli offered. "If you're sure it's okay." He paused. "He's really the one who saved you."
"I know." She held her hand out to the boy, beckoning. "But I'm not having anybody in my house I have to call Slug. That's not a name."
Slug came slowly toward the bed, ready to back off at the first hint of rejection. "So pick one. I don't care."
"What's your name?"
His shoulders lifted and fell. "Slug."
She wanted to smack something. Preferably whoever taught this boy to answer to Slug. "Okay, fine. I'll just call you 'Hey you.'"
"Look, if you want me to have a fu--a name, then give me one. Give me a name."
Marilyn stared at him, finally realizing that this was about more than a name. It was about starting over. "Steven," she said. "You look like a Steve to me."
"Stevie." Pete punched the older boy in the arm.
Steve put Pete in a headlock and gave him a quick noogie, but the grin on his face showed his pleasure.
"Is it all right with you?" she asked Eli. "If Stevie stays with us?"
Eli shrugged. "It's your house. Do what you want." He let go of her hand, retreating to a corner across the room while she visited with Joey and the boys.
