Waiting for Nick

by Nora Roberts

  There was an animal in him. It eyed Reece ferally, wrestled the bigger man over the floor. There was the sound of smashed glass, the sting of it pricking and biting at skin. Hate made him strong and wild and merciless.

  He could smell the blood, and taste it. Even as Reece’s eyes rolled back and his body sagged, Nick continued to pound.

  “Enough.” It took the bartenders and two others to drag Nick up. “I don’t want nobody beat to death in my place. You done what you come to do, now get out.”

  Nick staggered once, wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. “You tell him when he comes to, if he raises his hand to a woman again, I’ll finish the job.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Freddie considered going home after delivering Marla and her family to the abuse shelter. God knew she was drained, as emotionally and physically exhausted as she’d ever been in her life. She’d gone no farther than the entryway of the shelter herself, but she’d been relieved that it didn’t seem like an institution.

  Nick had done his research well.

  There’d been children’s drawings tacked up on the wall, and a small sitting room off to the side, where the furnishings were spare, but comforting.

  The woman who greeted them had seemed weary, yet her voice had been soothing. Freddie’s last glimpse of Marla had been watching her being led up the stairs, with the woman murmuring to her.

  So she didn’t go home, despite Nick’s insistence, but went back to wait for him.

  “Figured you’d be back,” Rio said when she stepped into the kitchen. “You got Marla and the kids away okay?”

  “Yes.” She sat, let her shoulders sag against the chair. “It seemed like a good place. A safe one. I don’t think she even realized where she was. She just followed along, like the children.”

  “You’ve done all you can do.” Rio set a plate in front of her. “You eat something now. No arguments.”

  “I won’t give you any.” Freddie picked up her fork and dipped into the chicken and rice. “Who is she, Rio?”

  “A girl Nick used to know. He didn’t see much of her for a while, after he got settled down here with Zack and Rachel. When she got pregnant with the boy, Carlo, her family booted her out.”

  “Heartless,” Freddie murmured. “How can people be so heartless? What about the father?”

  “Wasn’t interested, I guess.” Rio shrugged, caught himself and turned to her. “The boy isn’t Nick’s.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that, Rio. He’d never have left them to fend for themselves.” Setting her fork aside, she rubbed her hands over her face. “This man, the one who did this to her. He isn’t Carlo’s father?”

  “Nope. She didn’t get tangled up with him until about four years ago. He was doing time when the boy was born.”

  “A real prince.”

  “Oh, Reece is a royal bastard, all right.” Rather than the coffee she’d expected, Rio set a cup of herbal tea in front of her. “I guess the name isn’t ringing any bells with you.”

  “No.” She frowned, sniffed the tea. Chamomile. It almost made her smile. “Should it?”

  “He nearly killed Nick.” Rio’s dark eyes went grim. “A little over ten years ago, he broke in here with a couple of his Cobra slime buddies, juiced up and armed to the teeth. Figured on robbing the place. He was going to shoot Zack.”

  The blood drained out of her face. “I remember. Oh, God, I remember. Nick pushed Zack away.”

  “And took the bullet,” Rio finished. “I thought we were going to lose him. But he’s tough. Nick’s always been tough.”

  Very slowly, as if her bones might shatter from the movement, she rose. “Where is he, Rio? Where’s Nick?”

  He could have lied to her. But he chose to tell her straight. “I gotta figure he went looking for Reece. And I gotta figure he found him.”

  She had to fight to get the air out of her lungs, to pull it back again. “We have to tell Zack. We have to—”

  “Zack’s out looking right now. So’s Alex.” He set a huge and gentle hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing to do but wait, honey.”

  So she waited, eventually going upstairs to pace Nick’s apartment. Every sound on the street, from the bar below, had her holding her breath. Every wail of a siren had her trembling.

  He’s tough. Nick’s always been tough.

  She didn’t give a damn how tough he was. She wanted him home, whole and safe.

  Tormented by the images rolling through her brain, she kept her hands busy. She began to tidy the room, then to dust, then to scrub.

  When she heard footsteps on the stairs, she was down on her knees washing the kitchen floor. She scrambled up, raced toward the door.

  “Nick. Oh, God, Nick.” All but shattered with relief, she threw her arms around him.

  He let her cling for a moment, though the pressure had the aches in his body singing. When he found the energy, he peeled her away.

  “I told you to go home, Fred.”

  “I don’t care what you told me, I was— Oh, you’re hurt.”

  Her eyes went huge as relief jerked into shock. His face was bloody, one eye nearly swollen shut. His clothes were torn and stained with more blood.

  “You need to go to the hospital.”

  “I don’t need a damn hospital.” He lurched away from her, gave in to his weakened legs and sank into a chair. And prayed to any god that might be listening that he wouldn’t be sick. “Don’t start on me. I’ve already been through this with Zack. Go away, Fred.”

  Instead, she said nothing, walked into the bathroom and gathered up every first aid supply she could find. Armed with antiseptic, bandages and dampened cloths, she came back to find him sitting as she’d left him.

  He took one look, would have scowled if his face hadn’t felt as though it would crack open at the movement. “I don’t want you nursing me.”

  “Just be quiet.” Her hands were a great deal steadier than her voice when she dabbed at the blood. “I imagine I’m supposed to ask how the other guy looks. You had no business going after him.”

  “It is my business. She meant something to me once.” He hissed, then settled, when she pressed the cool cloth to his swollen eye. “And even if I’d never seen her before, any man who knocks a woman around, tosses kids around, deserves a beating.”

  “I don’t disagree with the sentiment,” she murmured. “Only with your method. This is going to sting some.”

  More than some, he discovered, and swore ripely. “I wish to hell you’d go away.”

  “Well, I’m not.” She tried to comfort herself with the thought that the cuts on his face weren’t deep enough for stitches. Then she saw his hands. White-hot fury erupted inside her. “Your hands. Look what you’ve done to your hands. You idiot. Why can’t you use your head instead of your glands?”

  She could have wept with grief. His beautiful, talented artist’s hands were torn and bleeding. Dark, ugly bruises had already formed, marring them, swelling them.

  “They ran into his teeth a few times.”

  “Isn’t that just like you? Isn’t that just typical? Nicholas LeBeck’s first rule of order. If you can’t solve the problem, batter it down.” She was wrapping cold cloths around his hands as she spoke. “You could have called Alex.”

  “Don’t hassle me, Fred. You heard her. She isn’t going to file charges.”

  “She’s in the shelter, isn’t she? She and the children?”

  “And he just walks? Not this time.” Experimentally Nick flexed his fingers. They were stiff and painful, but it was the torso Freddie had yet to see that was agonizing. “He tried to kill my brother once, and did less than six years for it. The system says he’s rehabilitated, so he gets out and starts hammering on Marla. So, screw the system. My way works.”

  “He nearly killed you before.” Her lips trembled as she rose. “He could have done it again.”

  “He didn’t, did he? Now back off.”

  He dragged himself to
his feet and limped into the kitchen. He managed to locate the aspirin quickly enough, but with his injured hands he found he couldn’t pry off the lid.

  Her own movements stiff from a different kind of pain, Freddie took the bottle from him. She opened it, set it on the counter for him, then poured him a glass of water.

  “How far, Nick?” Her voice was controlled, too controlled. “How far do you want me to back off?”

  He didn’t turn, only stayed where he was, his hands braced on the counter, his body throbbing with a thousand hurts. “I can’t talk about this now. If you want to do something for me, you’ll go home. Leave me alone. I don’t want you here.”

  “Fine. I should have remembered, the lone wolf prefers to slink off on his own to lick his wounds. I’ll just leave you to it.” As wounded as he now, she spun on her heel. She was halfway across the living room when Zack came in. Brushing an impatient hand over her damp cheek, she kept walking. “Be careful,” she warned. “I think he’s rabid.”

  “Freddie—” But she was moving fast, her heels already clattering on the stairs. Zack marched into the kitchen. “What did you do to make her cry?”

  Nick only swore and dumped four aspirin on the counter. “Stay out of it.” He winced as the water he swallowed burned his abused throat. “I’m not in the mood for company, Zack.”

  “You aren’t getting company. Sit down, damn it, before you keel over.”

  That, at least, seemed like a reasonable idea. With careful movements, Nick lowered himself into a kitchen chair.

  Standing back, Zack took a survey. Freddie had done some good, he supposed, but his brother still looked like the wrong end of a punching bag. “Did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  “He got in a few.”

  “Let’s get what’s left of that shirt off and take a look.”

  “I’m not much interested in seeing.” But he couldn’t drum up the energy to object as Zack began removing the torn material. Zack’s slow, vicious oaths confirmed the worst. “That bad?”

  “He got in more than a few. Damn it, Nick, did you have to go looking for trouble?”

  “I didn’t have to look far, did I?” He looked up then, met Zack’s eyes coolly. “It was a long time coming. Now it’s done.”

  Zack merely nodded, began to open cupboards. “Is that liniment still around here?”

  “Someplace. Under the sink, maybe.”

  Once he located it, Zack came back to finish what Freddie had started. “You’re going to feel worse tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, just what I needed to hear. Got a cigarette on you? I lost mine.”

  Zack took one out, lighted it, placed it between Nick’s swollen fingers. “I hope he looks as bad as you.”

  “Oh, worse.” The sour grin hurt. “A lot worse.”

  “That’s something, then. I’m surprised you had the energy left to fight with Freddie.”

  “I wasn’t fighting with her. I just wanted her out. She shouldn’t have been around this. Any of it.”

  “Maybe not. But I’d say she can handle herself.”

  She was sure of it. It seemed clear after two days that Nick was determined to avoid her. Still licking his wounds, she imagined as she walked back from Nick’s apartment yet again.

  Still, she hadn’t expected the locked door. Her only consolation was that Zack had assured her Nick was healing.

  She was tired of worrying about him, she decided. And since work wasn’t an option until his hands were better, she’d found other ways to fill her time.

  She’d enjoyed taking toys over to the shelter more than anything else. Marla still seemed nervous and strained, but the children were already relaxing. The highlight of Freddie’s day had been when the solemn-eyed Carlo smiled at her.

  Time, she thought. They only needed time and care.

  And what, she wondered, did Nick need? Apparently he didn’t think it was Freddie Kimball. At least not at the moment. So she’d give him the distance he wanted right now. But sooner or later, she was going to get sick of standing back and waiting.

  Love shouldn’t be so complicated. She brooded, looking down at the sidewalk. It all had seemed so simple when she left home to come to New York. Everything she’d planned and hoped for had slowly come to be.

  Now, because of some blip from his past, it was falling apart on her.

  With a sigh, she opened the security door of her building. The sudden jab from behind had her stumbling. She would have fallen, if an arm hadn’t come around her, jerking her back.

  “Keep walking,” the voice ordered. “And keep quiet. Feel that? It’s a knife. You don’t want me to use it.”

  Calm, she ordered herself. Don’t panic. It was broad daylight. “There’s money in my purse. You can have it.”

  “We’ll talk about that. Open the elevator.”

  The idea of being closed in with him, with the knife, had her struggling. She bit back a cry when the blade pierced.

  “Open the elevator or I’ll cut you open right here.”

  Fighting to keep part of her mind cool, free from the panic that had her body shuddering, she obeyed. Once they were inside and moving, he shifted her, and she could see him.

  The thin face, the glazed eyes. It was the man Nick had called Jack.

  “You’re a friend of Nick’s.” She managed to keep her voice level. “I was with him the night he gave you money. If you need more, I’ll give it to you.”

  “You’re going to give me more than money.” Jack lifted the knife, running the flat of the blade over her cheek. “It’s a matter of honor, baby.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her wild hope of rushing out ahead of him, screaming, when they reached her floor was smashed when he twisted her arm behind her back.

  “Not a peep,” he warned. “We’re going to walk straight to your place, and I know which one it is. I’ve seen your light come on. Then you’re going to unlock the door, and we’ll go inside.”

  “Nick wouldn’t want you to hurt me.”

  “Too bad about Nick. You pull anything out of that bag but your keys, baby, and you’ll be bleeding.”

  She took out her keys, her movements deliberately sluggish. If she stalled long enough, someone would see. Someone would help.

  “Move it.” Jack yanked her arm higher, so that she whimpered when the last lock opened. He was sweating when he shoved her inside. “Now then, it’s just you and me.” He pushed her into a chair. “Nick shouldn’t have gone after Reece. Once a Cobra, always a Cobra.”

  “Reece put you up to this.” A new glimmer of hope tormented her. “Jack, you don’t have to do this. Reece is just using you.”

  “Reece is my friend, my bro.” His eyes began to glitter. “Lots of the others, they forgot what it was like in the old days. But not Reece. He keeps the faith.”

  Freddie might have felt pity—for surely the man was pitiful—if fear hadn’t had its bony fingers clutched around her throat. “If you hurt me, you’ll be the one to pay. Not Reece.”

  “Let me worry about that. Now take off your clothes.”

  Now the fear screamed in her eyes. Seeing it, Jack grinned. He was flying now. He’d used the money Reece had given him for a nice solid hit of coke.

  “We might as well have a little fun first. Strip, baby. I’ve got a feeling Nick’s picked himself another winner.”

  He would rape her, she thought, and as hideous as that was, she felt she could survive it. But she knew, in some cold corner of her brain, that he couldn’t intend for her to survive. He would rape her, then he would kill her.

  And he’d enjoy both.

  “Please, don’t hurt me.” She let the terror ring in her voice. She would use it, to fight back.

  “You do what I tell you, you’re nice to me, nobody has to get hurt.” He licked his lips. “Stand up and strip, or I’ll have to start cutting you.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” she said again. She braced herself. She would need momentum, and a great deal of luck. If she didn’t follow thro
ugh, she wouldn’t get a second chance. “I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

  “Bet. Now get up.”

  He gestured with the knife, grinned. She let her eyes slide toward the bedroom door, go wide. Jack was just stupid enough to follow her glance.

  And she sprang.

  The keys he hadn’t bothered to take away from her were clamped between her tensed knuckles like daggers. Without a moment’s hesitation or regret, she went straight for the eyes.

  He screamed. She’d never heard a man scream like that, high and wild. With one hand clutching his eyes, he swung out blindly with the knife. With every ounce of her strength, Freddie struck him over the head with her prized art deco lamp.

  The blade clattered to the floor as he crumpled. Breathing hard, she stared down at him for several seconds. As if in a dream, she walked to the phone.

  “Uncle Alex? I need help.”

  She didn’t faint. She’d been terrified she would, but she managed to follow Alex’s instructions and leave the apartment. She was outside, swaying at the curb, when the first cop car pulled up.

  Alex was thirty seconds behind it.

  “You’re all right? You’re okay?” His arms came around her hard, and the veteran cop buried his face in her hair. “Did he hurt you, baby?”

  “No. I don’t think. I’m dizzy.”

  “Sit down, honey. Sit right here.” He helped her to the building’s stoop. “Head between the knees, that’s a girl. Take it slow. Get upstairs,” he ordered the uniform. “Get that lowlife out of my niece’s apartment. Book him on assault with a deadly, attempted rape. I want the knife measured. If it’s over the legal limit, slap him with that, too.”

  “He said Reece told him to,” Freddie said dully.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. I’ll take you to the hospital. I won’t leave you alone there.”

  “I don’t need the hospital.” She lifted her head again. The wavering dizziness had passed, but she still felt oddly light-headed. “He cut me a little, I think.” Testing, she brushed her fingers over her side, stared dumbly at the smear of red.