Last Kiss Goodnight oa-1

by Gena Showalter

A laughing Dr. E had abandoned him.

  A sighing X had abandoned him, though he had first promised to help the moment his strength returned. Help Solo would have refused if he’d been alone. X had already failed him. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to trust the creature again.

  Vika, though, she had stayed put, holding his gaze without wavering so that he was never alone and never had to concentrate on someone else, never had to consider what was happening.

  What a puzzle she was. He couldn’t figure her out.

  And he wouldn’t be given the chance tonight, he was sure. He had let her go, and she had bolted, which was probably a good thing. Right now he hung at the end of a fraying rope, ready to fall into his most dangerous at any moment. He hadn’t lied about that. His mind was hazed by the ever-increasing pain he had refused to reveal to Jecis, even in the smallest degree. He would rather bathe in acid and towel himself dry with broken glass than satisfy the sick desires of such a madman. Michael had trained him better than that.

  “I’m back,” Vika said.

  How utterly shocking. She’d kept her word without being forced.

  He wanted to howl as she gently tended his wounds, but once again he remained quiet. He didn’t want her to stop. He needed this. And he liked the thought of her hands on him, no matter the circumstances.

  “You’ll heal,” she whispered. “You have to heal.”

  As the sound of her soft voice drifted through his mind, he was able to pretend they were at his farm, in his bedroom. On his bed. They had just made love, and he was exhausted. She had loved every moment, and now, she couldn’t stop touching him, had to have more of him. But as his fellow captives marveled aloud, throwing rapid-fire questions and commands at him, he was drawn back to the present.

  “Why are you just lying there?” the Mec whispered fiercely. “Kill her!”

  Did he know she was deaf?

  “Bob! Fred! Over here!” Criss rattled her cage door. “Fight through the pain and free us!”

  “Now’s your chance,” the Bree Lian growled. “Do something!”

  No. They didn’t know. They would have told him to use the defect against her. Right now they were simply desperate for action.

  “Why don’t you all shut up?” the Targon snipped. “Let the girl aid the man.”

  Support. From the Targon. Miracle of miracles.

  Vika cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hush,” she said, and turned back to Solo.

  Solo frowned. Maybe he was mistaken about her. Maybe—no. No mistake. She had simply followed the direction of his gaze. She had no idea the creatures had commanded him to end her life. Her expression was sad rather than angry, guilty rather than fearful.

  He should listen to his companions and act. He should fight his way out. Now. He should do whatever proved necessary.

  He wasn’t against hurting a defenseless deaf girl to save himself . . . was he? Only yesterday he would have said no, no, a thousand times no. But twice now Vika had tenderly ministered to him, and only his mother had ever done such a thing for him. Vika had given him food and earned herself a beating.

  His mother would expect him to aid the girl aiding him.

  Yes, he was against hurting a defenseless deaf girl. This deaf girl.

  Using every bit of his strength, Solo pulled himself into a crouch. Whatever salve she had spread over his wounds seeped deep and thankfully dulled the pain. She slid an arm under his chest and applied pressure, helping him straighten.

  “Can you lift the rest of the way?” she asked softly.

  He opened his mouth to respond, realized she couldn’t see his lips at this angle, and settled for nodding. He lumbered to his feet, tried not to cringe. Vika urged him toward the cage; he resisted.

  “I’m not going back there,” he said. New plan. He would leave with Vika and Kitten, find a hiding place, one Jecis wouldn’t be able to track, even if there was a GPS chip in the cuffs, and take time to heal. He would contact Michael. Together they would come back here and destroy the circus. Some aspects of the plans would always be the same. Vika, he would . . . He wasn’t sure what he’d do with her anymore.

  After the circus was destroyed, he would hunt John and Blue if they were missing.

  “Please,” she said, giving his arm a tug. The single word was drenched with fear.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to allow your father to hurt you, either.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and forced her into his side.

  She struggled for freedom, but he merely tightened his hold. She struggled some more, but surprisingly enough, she was careful not to brush against his wounds.

  “Don’t do this,” she pleaded.

  “I must.”

  As the otherworlders called him over—save me first, no me, please, me—she finally stilled.

  “Okay,” she said with a dejected sigh, “that does it. I’m officially throwing in the wet blanket.”

  Uh, what? Maybe it was his injured state, but he so did not understand what she’d just said. “Throwing in . . . the towel?” Maybe.

  She must not have caught his words, because she launched into a desperate rumble of words. “I give as much as I’m able, and I sacrifice as much as I’m able, and I sometimes endanger myself, and yet no one thinks twice about ruining my life further. So, fine, whatever. I’ll go with you. I can’t stop you from escaping without using your injuries against you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it.

  “But when you’re captured, and you will be,” she continued, “I’ll be sure to mention how you overpowered me. The last man who laid a hand on me lost it. Jecis chopped it right off. And then, to really prove his point, he chopped off the other one. And I won’t even mention what will be done to me!”

  “How kind of you.” As she spoke, he kept a firm grip on her and ushered her to Kitten’s cage. “But nothing will be done to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  From the otherworlders, the demands for freedom became pleas for help. As loud as they were, another guard would soon be called. He didn’t want to waste precious time having Vika free them. Although . . . if Jecis and company discovered Solo’s abduction of Vika, they’d have other people to chase, other tracks to follow, buying Solo more of the time he needed.

  Cruel of him? Maybe. But also a mercy. They would be free. If the situation were reversed, he would want to be released for any reason, even that one.

  He switched direction, approaching the cage closest to him.

  “Thank you, Blue Eyes,” Vika said, her tone dripping with relief. She must assume he intended to walk back into his own prison. “Thank you. You won’t regret this. I have plans, and if you can just hold out for—”

  “My name is Solo,” he interjected, making sure she was looking up to watch his lips. She had plans? What kind of plans? And was she fond of men with blue eyes?

  That last question irritated him greatly. Why should he care?

  “Solo.” A grin lifted the corners of her lips. “Nice to meet you.”

  He would have sworn the sun had just broken through a thick shield of rain clouds, lighting her entire face. He wanted her to smile every second of every day . . . but her soft amusement died a quick death the moment he stopped in front of the Mec’s cage.

  Dread radiated from her. “You’re going to free everyone, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to do that. Please!”

  “I must,” he repeated.

  Though she tugged and tugged and tugged, he forced her to place her thumb against the lock. The moment the two halves parted, the Mec burst free. As overjoyed as he was, his skin glowed a bright blue. Foolish otherworlder. He would never be able to hide that way.

  “You’re all dead,” Vika said, emotionless. “You, me, all of them. We’re all as dead as . . . things that are dead.”

  “I will protect you.” He stumbled over his own feet and barely managed to right himself. But he meant those words with
every fiber of his being. He wanted her safe. Now and al— Oh, no. He wasn’t going there. He wanted her safe. For now.

  He stopped, peered into her eyes, and again said, “I will protect you.” This time he added, “I vow it.”

  She didn’t jolt, as any other would have, and that astonished him. Maybe it was because she couldn’t hear his voice, he reasoned. Maybe it was because he was drugged and in such a weakened condition. Whatever. Didn’t really matter, he supposed. A vow was a vow, and he’d just tied himself to her.

  A sigh slipped from her and she nodded. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

  Solo walked her to the next cage, and this time she offered no resistance whatsoever.

  “Hey, you. Stop,” a guard shouted in the distance, and Solo wasn’t sure if the command was issued to him or the Mec.

  Either way, there was no time to liberate the others. Kitten, yes, but not the others. He would have to come back for them. He dragged Vika to the girl’s cage, and she placed her thumb against the lock’s ID without any prompting from him.

  Kitten raced to his side. “Let’s do this thing.”

  “Quiet,” Vika said, a desperate quality to her voice. “Please. We don’t want them to catch us.”

  “You be quiet!” Kitten snarled, reaching for her. “Better yet, keep talking. I’ll silence you myself for what you allowed to happen to me.”

  Solo spun Vika out of Kitten’s reach. “Don’t threaten her,” Solo told the otherworlder. He wasn’t sure what he’d do to her if she did it again. He only knew anger was already budding inside him—an uncontrollable anger. One that, when unleashed, would be unstoppable.

  “Fine,” Kitten muttered. “But I have a problem with her, and one day I’m going to catnip the hell out of her.”

  “Not without permission from me.” Permission he would never give.

  Jaw clenched, he lumbered forward with the women at his sides, the rest of the otherworlders hurtling curses at him . . . curses that were fading in volume, not just because he was moving farther away but because the strength of the otherworlders’ emotions were engaging the cuffs and causing drugs to be pumped through their systems. They were dropping swiftly, as though Solo had targeted them for a job.

  He quickened his step, trying to keep his own emotions under control.

  He only made it a few more feet before a stocky man rounded a corner.

  “Matas!” Solo heard the Targon shout. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you so dead!”

  Not just a shout, but a spew, as if the name were a terrible curse. Bars rattled. The ground shook.

  Matas. Finally they met. He’d been at the whipping. Had been the one to hand the weapon to Jecis. The one to grin the widest as every blow was delivered.

  But there was no time for a proper meet and greet. As Solo shifted directions, the male zeroed in on him. Black mist rose from the male’s shoulders in thick, writhing coils. Evil, Solo knew. As many criminals as he’d targeted throughout the years, he’d seen such evil before. Slightly crooked teeth flashed in a scowl as the man withdrew a gun from the waist of his pants and squeezed the trigger.

  Solo twisted so that his body completely blocked the females. Fresh pain bloomed in his shoulder, and his vision instantly hazed.

  Vika released a bloodcurdling scream that joined the chant of failed again, failed again, failed again suddenly echoing in his head. He collapsed, no longer able to hold himself upright, and because he still had a grip on both Vika and Kitten, the two females went down with him. He managed to tuck them both underneath him, still determined to use his body as a shield in case the male decided to open fire.

  He—

  —knew nothing more, for darkness had eaten him alive.

  Or as dead as things that were dead.

  Thirteen

  Catch the little foxes for us, the little foxes that are ruining the vineyards, while our vineyards are in blossom.

  —SONG OF SOLOMON 2:15

  M ATAS HAD SHOT SOLO. Matas had really and truly shot Solo. Blood had splashed on Vika as Solo had fallen . . . had poured over her when he’d landed and tucked her underneath him. To protect her. Her. His enemy. Just as he’d promised. Kitten was struggling under his weight, trying to free herself, but he wasn’t helping her.

  Was he dead?

  Please don’t be dead.

  Hand trembling, Vika reached up and felt for Solo’s pulse. It was thready, but there. He lived. Relief bombarded her—just as Matas yanked her out from under Solo’s massive weight.

  Glaring down at her, he snapped, “Remove the bullet from the beast. We don’t want your father’s precious main attraction to die, do we?”

  “N-o.”

  He kicked Solo in the side, rolling him to his decimated back and freeing Kitten.

  The Teran jumped up, ready to bolt, but wily as he was, Matas managed to grab her by the waist before she’d taken more than a step.

  “Let me go!” Kitten snarled.

  “After I’ve had a little fun with you.”

  “Careful with her,” Vika commanded, her blood flashing cold. “Please. She’s my charge, and I’m responsible for her.”

  Kitten paused, gazing at Vika with wide-eyed shock.

  Icy calculation from Matas, as though Vika was giving him exactly what he’d wanted. “You’ll owe me,” he said, then carted the struggling Kitten to her cage.

  Vika tripped her way to the medical supplies she’d brought to tend Solo after his whipping. She returned and, though her trembling had increased substantially, managed to do as Matas had commanded.

  Solo’s chest was more crimson than bronze, with a quarter-size hole just over his heart. Tears tracked down her cheeks, blurring his image. How much could one man endure in a single day before he died? she wondered as she wrapped his entire chest with a thick bandage.

  “Good enough,” Matas said. Though he was strong enough to carry Solo, he opted not to, instead dragging the otherworlder to his prison and ruining what little good Vika had done to both his back and his chest.

  I’m so sorry, she thought, fighting sobs. The night wasn’t supposed to end this way.

  Dark eyes pinned her in place, mocking her for her sorrow. “Are you happy with yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Your father wants to talk to you.” Matas grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her away from the clearing.

  All too soon, Jecis’s trailer came into view. Her father waited at the door and motioned her inside. She offered no protest, but she did stop, unable to take another step on her own. Her feet were simply too heavy.

  Matas picked her up and carried her inside. To mask her growing sense of fear, she gazed around the home that no longer bore any hint of her mother’s presence. Like all the other circus vehicles, the trailer boasted metal walls; multiple padlocks lined the seam of the only door. There were no windows.

  However, unlike the others—excluding hers—this one boasted brand-new furniture. There was a plush reclining chair, a leather couch, a projector television, and holo-images of Audra dancing in every corner. Multihued pillows were strewn around a faux fireplace, forming a small alcove that would have been pretty if not for the bear-skin rug that was stretched out in front of it. A rug courtesy of Zoey.

  Yes, Jecis had skinned Vika’s precious bear. Actually, he’d put all of her beloved animals to “good use” rather than selling them. A “gift” to Vika. Sammie’s ostrich feathers had been made into hats and tails for a group of performers. Dobi the tiger and Righty the ape were stuffed and on display in the main tent. Gus the zebra, Angie the horse, Gabby the camel, and Barney the llama had been dipped in some sort of alien metal and turned into a carousel. Mini the elephant had been hollowed out and dipped in the same metal, now an enzyme spout between the two public bathrooms at the circus, where people could wash their hands.

  Vika could hardly bear to think about what Jecis had done to One Day.

  Beyond the living area, there was a queen-size bed. Audra currently lo
unged in the center, the bejeweled covers puffed around her. Grinning, she sipped a glass of brandy. One of the spiders etched into her arm began to move, crawling higher and higher, until finally resting on her shoulder.

  The tattoos on Audra’s body had come to life a few months ago, after she’d begun her training sessions with Matas.

  Audra loathed Vika, and enjoyed watching her punishments. But then, Vika kind of deserved all that loathing. Audra, Vika, and their friend Dolly had grown up together, inseparable, sisters in every way that mattered until Vika’s mother died, and Jecis demanded all of Vika’s spare time.

  We’ll be together forever, you and I. You will never abandon me. I’m the only one you can ever trust. The only one who will ever love you. Never forget.

  Every chance she could, Vika had snuck away to spend time with her favorite girls. The three of them had been playing with the animals, laughing hysterically at the noises Zoey made while she napped, when Dolly had accidentally shut Vika’s hand in the door of the cage.

  Jecis found out and raged, saying the punishment had to fit the crime. Dolly had hurt Vika’s hand, and so Jecis had removed Dolly’s. When the girl’s parents protested, Jecis exiled the entire family.

  That’s when Vika called Audra terrible names and even slapped her, hoping to send her away and save her from Jecis’s wrath. Looking back, she knew she had handled things poorly.

  There was no undoing the past, she knew that, but she had later sought to make restitution and apologized. Audra had refused to forgive.

  Matas eased Vika into a chair in front of the trailer’s kitchenette. He rubbed two of his knuckles under her chin and smiled smugly. Then he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

  He shot Solo. Just shot him as easily as if the otherworlder was the main course for dinner, and now he dares to smile at me?

  Would Solo live through the night?

  Would she find his dead body in the morning, flies and ants covering him?

  Would she even be capable of walking in the morning?

  Jecis moved to the other side of the counter and took his time cutting and lighting the end of a cigar. Even with the thick slab of granite between them, dark smoke billowed around her, and she had to hold her breath to stop herself from coughing.