Full Contact

by Sarah Castille

  “What is the business you’re in?”

  He snorts again. “Tragic you have to die without even knowing the reason, but duty means more to him than love. That is the way it is with CIA scum.”

  My pulse roars in my ears. It was true after all. I wish Tag were here so I could tell him. I wish I could say good-bye. I wish I could tell Ray I love him, even though he’s a CIA spy.

  Yuri doesn’t seem too concerned about my ability to move, so I pull up my knees and push myself to sitting, my back protected against the headboard. My purse is on the dresser, too far to reach, and Yuri is between the window and the door, my only possible exits. I glance over at the nightstand for a weapon, anything that would buy me enough time to get out the door, but my only option is a small digital clock, flashing ten p.m.

  Ten p.m. The fight will be over. Will Ray have missed me? Will Tag think I ditched him again? What about Jess? Will anyone be looking for me?

  “What are you going to do?” My voice wavers, despite my attempt to keep it steady. Already my body is shaking with the adrenaline rush, and my attempts to slow my breathing are in vain. But I’ve been here before. And I won’t make the same mistake I made with Luke. I will not panic; I will not freeze.

  “What would hurt him most, do you think?” Yuri cocks his head and gives me a lascivious grin.

  “I think you’ve already decided,” I say through gritted teeth. “Otherwise I would already be dead.”

  “So entertaining.” Yuri reaches for his belt. “I enjoyed you in the tattoo parlor as well. Charming, pretty, and talented. Such a shame you have to die. But that was his choice. I’ll let him know you gave me a little something to remember you by.” He pats his arm where I tatted the rose, and I bite my lip to fight back a scream.

  Yuri laughs as he undoes his belt. “Don’t fight it. Scream away. No one will hear you. This entire wing is empty. And I like the sound of a woman’s screams. I also like a little fight, which is why you’re not restrained.”

  Not restrained. Hands free. Legs free. Mouth free. I hear the voice of the Discovery Channel narrator in my head: Biting, charging, kicking, and scratching are effective forms of defense that can chase potential predators away or force them to release their prey. I remember Tag’s self-defense moves, Doctor Death’s grapple techniques, and Ray lying on top of me, keeping me safe. And I remember the feel of my teeth piercing his skin.

  I don’t want to be prey. I want to be the predator.

  Yuri whips off his belt, and I form a quick plan. When he leans over and grabs my hands, holding them over my head against the scratchy bedspread, I lick my lips.

  I am the predator.

  He drops his head closer, and I rear up and bite his lip.

  Yuri screams and pulls back. The acrid, metallic taste of blood on my tongue makes me gag. But still I hold on, driving my teeth into his flesh. Only when he slaps me across the face, do I let go. Holding his lip with one hand, he crawls on top of me. He smells of smoke and stale sweat, and my stomach lurches. When he reaches for my hands, I Tasmanian Devil him, wriggling, writhing, and shrimping on the bed. Yuri pushes himself up, dodging my blows, but before he can reassess the situation, I bring up my legs and smash them into his chest.

  Yuri falls off the end of the bed. His eyes harden, and he pulls a gun from the holster at his side.

  I scream.

  Pain rips through my shoulder.

  The door crashes open.

  Ray bursts into the room. Yuri turns and raises his weapon, but he’s too slow. Ray fires twice and blood blooms across Yuri’s chest. He collapses on the bed, then rolls to the floor.

  Agents in black with FBI vests flood into the tiny space. Ray kneels beside the bed. “It’s okay. We got you now.”

  But it’s not okay. Breath doesn’t come to my lungs. My heart doesn’t stop pounding. Sweat doesn’t stop trickling down my forehead, blurring my vision. “My shoulder…”

  Ray’s face is pale, stark. His eyes burn with a fire I haven’t seen before. He turns and yells. “Medic. Now.” And then he squeezes my hand. “It’s just a little flesh wound. Talk to me.”

  But I can’t talk, can’t breathe. The fire in my shoulder burns hotter than the fire in his eyes, consuming me, pulling me into the darkness.

  “Fuck.” Ray turns and shouts for a medic again. He strokes my head, and the pain subsides as I slide into a dark, safe place.

  “I didn’t panic,” I whisper. “I fought back. Like a predator. Like you.”

  “You did good, beautiful girl.” Ray kisses my forehead. “You held him off. I came as fast as I could.”

  “But…” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I struggle toward the light.

  “Where’s the damn medic?” Panic infuses Ray’s voice. “Medic!”

  His panic defeats me and the world fades away. “You weren’t fast enough,” I whisper.

  Something scared the Predator.

  I think it was me.

  Chapter 25

  Everything beautiful…

  This time when I wake, the room is light.

  White. Bright. Medical equipment on the walls. Machines beeping. Heavy, cloying scent of disinfectant.

  An IV tugs my arm when I try to move, and when I turn my head, I see Ray.

  We stare at each other. His face is deeply lined. Worn. Haggard. He needs comfort, but I can’t give it to him. What do I say to the man who promised to keep me safe, and instead made my worst nightmare come true?

  A tear trickles down my cheek. My mouth is dry, so dry. But I manage to get out one word. “Tag.”

  He nods as if he was expecting me to say just that, and he pushes himself out of his chair. His leather jacket creaks as he makes his way to the door, and then he pauses, looks over his shoulder, and meets my gaze. His eyes are dull, so pale they are almost gray. Haunted. Broken.

  And then he’s gone.

  A nurse comes to see me next. She gives me water, checks my vitals, and raises the bed so I can sit. Her name is Mary, and she tells me I’m in a private, federally funded hospital outside Oakland. I had an operation to remove a bullet from my shoulder yesterday, and everything went well. Tag and Jess are outside. My parents are meeting with the doctor in charge. Two agents are waiting to talk to me.

  “You haven’t been alone for a minute,” she says gently. “Your family and friends were here during the day, and at night Mr. Black sat beside you and held your hand.”

  When I give her a puzzled look, she frowns. “The agent who just left.”

  Ah. Ray. I didn’t even know his last name. And I didn’t really know he was an agent.

  After Mary leaves, my room becomes a revolving door of visitors. First the doctor who tells me I’ll be fine and will be able to go home the day after tomorrow. Next, Mom comes in for a bout of weeping followed by a lecture on how being a tattoo artist exposes me to the criminal elements of society and I need to rethink my career. Overcome with emotion, Dad just pats me on the head and fills the silence with football stats.

  Jess and Tag come in holding hands after Mom and Dad leave. Like Dad, Tag is too emotional to talk, so Jess talks for him. She knew something was wrong when I didn’t show up at the fight, and when she called Tag and found out I hadn’t shown up for dinner, she told Ray and they went to my apartment. Tag was already there. He’d found my car keys under my car and had called his police buddies. But before they even arrived, Ray had the FBI on the scene. That’s when she knew it was really bad.

  Tag makes a noise, a cross between a sob and a growl, and Jess gives his hand a squeeze and tells him, “Look, she’s here. She’s okay. Ray saved her.”

  “She wouldn’t have been in that position if not for him. This is all his fault.” Tag stalks out of the room. Jess races after him, telling me over her shoulder that she’s spent the last few days trying to keep them apart, because every time Tag sees Ray, he goes crazy.

  Strangely detached, I watch them go. Maybe it’s the drugs or shock, but I feel nothing. No happi
ness. No sadness. No relief or anger. I just sit as people come in and out, say little, feel less, and pray the circus will end.

  “You okay, Sia?” A man enters the room and pulls up a chair beside me. He is tall and thin, with sandy-brown hair parted to one side. His dark suit and white shirt are impeccably pressed. Everything about him screams agent, and I tense in the bed.

  He holds out his hand. “I haven’t properly introduced myself. I’m Special Agent Jack Harris. FBI. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about what happened and commend you on your bravery.”

  Giving his hand a limp shake, I shrug. “I’m hardly brave. When I saw him in the parking lot, I didn’t run away because I knew him from the tattoo parlor. And in the hotel room, I knew all sorts of self-defense and fight moves, and all I could come up with was to keep him talking, kick him, and bite his lip. If you hadn’t come, he would have killed me. I trust all the wrong people. I make myself vulnerable over and over again, and I get hurt. I’m pathetic.”

  The self-loathing and bitterness in my voice shock even me. Maybe this is why I haven’t been able to talk all day. These are the words that I needed to say and I couldn’t let my family or friends hear them.

  Jack appears to be unfazed by my outburst. His bland expression doesn’t change. “Sometimes talking is the bravest thing you can do,” he says in a calm, even tone. “It buys you time, it keeps the assailant calm, and it makes him see you as a person, not a victim.”

  “He saw me as a message for Ray.” I spit out each word. “And I bought myself maybe a few minutes.”

  “That was enough time for us to get to you.” Jack smiles. “Those were minutes where you stayed calm and didn’t panic. Not easy to do. And don’t beat yourself up for not running away. He had been watching you for a while. His visits to the tattoo parlor were for the sole purpose of ensuring you didn’t run when he finally took you. We found surveillance pictures on his computer.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He shifts uneasily in his chair. “There’s a tracker in the necklace Ray gave you.”

  My hand flies up to the amber pendant hanging around my neck. God, this just gets worse and worse. “Ray knew about it?”

  “He put it there. After he caught one of Yuri’s men following you, he came to us for assistance and arranged for the tracker. We raided Yuri’s hotel room the next day. There was an explosion, and we thought he died in the blast, but he must have escaped out a back exit.”

  The urge to rip the necklace off my neck and hurl it across the room is so great, I have to fist my hands in my lap.

  Seemingly oblivious to my despair, Jack asks detailed questions about what happened, starting with Yuri’s visits to the shop and ending with what I now know was a motel room near the San Francisco International Airport. Finally, he closes his notebook and we say good-bye.

  “Jack?”

  He turns at the doorway, eyebrow raised.

  “Yuri said Ray is with the CIA. Is that true?”

  A tight smile crosses his lips. “I wouldn’t know.”

  * * *

  He comes in the night, as I knew he would.

  Visiting hours don’t mean anything to a man like Ray, and no one is going to turn him away.

  The monitors beep softly in the dim light. Something gurgles behind me. Ray’s jacket creaks as he leans forward and touches my hand.

  “I was waiting for you,” I say.

  “Wasn’t sure if I could come back.” His voice is rough, hoarse, and so gravelly I know he hasn’t slept for a while.

  Steeling myself to keep my emotions at bay, I look over, studying the lines and planes of his haggard face. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”

  He scrubs a hand over his face and shudders. “Everything beautiful…”

  “Ray…”

  “I’ve destroyed everything beautiful in my life. But you”—his voice tightens—“you are beyond beautiful to me. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I failed you in the worst possible way. I broke my promise.”

  “Yes, you did.” I hand him the necklace I removed after Jack’s visit, my anger now smoldering instead of a raging inferno. “You promised to keep me safe, but—”

  “I put you in danger.” Self-loathing fills his voice as he takes the necklace. “Danger I will never put you in again.” He tightens his fist and holds the necklace to his heart. “I’m sorry, Sia. I wanted you so much that I lost you. I wish I could turn back the clock so I could make all the right choices, spare your suffering, and keep you safe in my arms.” He draws in a ragged breath, then perches on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his arms, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.

  “I made that wish about turning back the clock for years. It never came true.”

  “Maybe when I’m gone.”

  My heart stutters. “You’re leaving the city?”

  “It’s the only way I know to keep you safe.” He brushes a kiss over my forehead. “This way I’ll know you’ll never be in danger. Because you won’t be with me.”

  A black hole opens in my chest. For all the anger and disappointment I feel, I can’t imagine life without him. I open my mouth, but the words I want to say don’t come.

  “I’ll join a different gym until I leave,” he says. “I’ll stay away from the places you like to go. I…won’t see you again.” He begins to pull away, and I tighten my arms. Not yet, my heart screams. I’m not ready.

  “Don’t go.” My voice wavers. “You don’t go. You don’t leave. You don’t walk away.”

  Ray buries his face in my neck. “I have to.”

  We hold each other in the darkness. I breathe in his scent, soap and leather and the essence of him. I commit him to memory, the feel of his hard body pressed up against me, the warmth of his embrace, the slow, steady beat of his heart, the words he whispers into the night.

  I wasn’t fast enough.

  I must have fallen asleep in his arms, because when I wake, Ray is gone.

  Chapter 26

  You are a survivor

  “Sia? You ready to go?”

  Jess walks into my apartment, and her steps slow when she sees me sitting on the couch. “I thought you were packing up the stuff you were going to sell at your mom’s garage sale.”

  “I can’t do it.” I haven’t moved from the couch all morning. Instead, I’ve spent three hours staring at the painting of Ray’s motorcycle and wondering if I made the right decision four weeks ago when I let him walk away.

  Not a day goes by that I don’t imagine that I see him on a street corner or hear his voice in a café. Every time the bell rings in the tattoo parlor, my heart jumps, hoping it’s him. I can’t watch the Discovery Channel without bursting into tears, and I haven’t touched a potato chip in weeks.

  “What about that?” She sits beside me on the couch and gestures to the painting. “It’s beautiful. You caught a side of him I’ve never seen before. But if it’s going to make you catatonic for an entire morning, maybe it should go.”

  Frowning, I glance over at Jess. “How did you know that red streak was Ray? Even he didn’t know.”

  Jess shrugs. “You love color.”

  “Well, it’s not finished.” I ball my hands into fists in my lap. Jess has a way of poking where I don’t want to be poked. “If I’d caught his real nature, maybe I would have run away when I still had the chance of not getting my heart broken.”

  She gives my arm a squeeze. “You and me both. Tag is totally withdrawn. I haven’t seen or heard from him in weeks. I thought we’d made some progress in the hospital, but I guess he just needed a friend.”

  Immediately I feel guilty for not giving her the attention I know she needs. Although she called it quits with Blade Saw after she and Tag became close when I was in the hospital, I think she’s come to the end of her rope.

  “I’m sorry.” I draw in a deep breath. “I haven’t been a good friend these last few weeks. It’s just…the pain won’t go away. I thought it was part
of the PTSD, but my new therapist says it’s grief. She says I lost someone I love and it doesn’t matter whether he died or walked away, I still have to grieve. I just wish she would tell me how long. This last week, I’ve been bursting into tears at the stupidest things and I’ve totally lost my appetite. When I do eat, I feel like throwing up. It seems to be getting worse, not better.”

  “Then why don’t you just forget about selling this stuff?” Jess says, waving her hand at the pile of easels and paintbrushes outside my hall closet. “There’s no burning urgency to get rid of it. Your mom is planning to have a sale every week until they’ve downsized enough for their new condo. We’ll just put it all back, and when you’re ready, you can sort through it again. I think you’re making an emotional decision that you’re going to regret.”

  With a sigh, I push myself off the couch and pick up the painting. “I loved him.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I never loved anyone like that before.”

  Jess sighs. “That’s why I stopped the whole loving thing. It fucking hurts.”

  * * *

  Duncan and Christos are both tidying up when I arrive at Redemption later that afternoon. Slim is in Rose’s chair, pounding away on the computer. He gives me a wave and I stop at the desk.

  “You doing Rose’s job now?”

  “My last day. I’m doing all the things I wished I could do. And I’ve just realized I was overpaying Rose. This job doesn’t require a whole lot of skill.”

  “You were paying her for her people skills, not her typing skills. She gets people in the door. She makes them happy to be here. And she makes them happy to pay. You can’t put a price on that.”

  Slim laughs. “Very true. That’s why I’m going to focus on what I do best. All art. All the time. And no young bucks like Torment trying to push me around.”