SK jerked forward.
Liv’s back was against the door, and Brad placed his hands on the roof behind her. Brad leaned into her, and she seemed to struggle.
SK’s hand flew to the door handle, but in the next instant the energy spilled out of him. Liv reached around Brad’s waist, pulled him close, and kissed him.
SK squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, but it was too late.
A breathless moan escaped him as though he’d been gut punched, and he hunched over the wheel. He kept his head low, breathing through his mouth. Across the street, the car door opened and closed. Then the other did the same. The engine started, revved a couple times, and the car pulled away.
SK forced himself to lift his head. The curb where Brad and Liv had been was empty. Taillights were disappearing in his side mirror. His fingers hurt and he realized they were still wrapped around the door handle. But instead of letting it go, he opened the door. As a cascade of broken glass poured into the street, he leaned out and puked.
• • • • •
“Where should I park?” Brad asked.
Livvy barely heard him. She fought the urge to wipe her lips.
“Livvy,” he said. “Should I park on the street?”
“Just drop me at the curb,” she managed to say.
“Oh, come on,” Brad said, taking her hand, muffling a tiny spark. Her chest felt like it might split, and she gripped his hand hard.
“I’m…” She stopped herself and got control of her voice. What she really wanted to do was moan. “I’m…not feeling well.”
Don’t look at him.
“Really?” he said, sounding worried. He pulled through the circular drive and stopped at the end.
“Yeah,” she said, forcing herself not to rub her chest. She looked down at their hands together. “I guess jail doesn’t agree with me.”
“Yeah,” he seethed. “Jail. We’ll see about that.”
“It’s been a long night,” she said.
In fact, the first light of morning was already lighting the sky.
“Let me at least walk you up,” he said, unbuckling his seat belt.
“No!” she blurted out, unbuckling hers. She opened the car door and was almost halfway out when she realized what she was doing. “I mean,” she said and took a deep, calming breath. “You have to be tired too.”
“Well,” he said, snatching up her hand again. “It’s not every day your girlfriend calls you from jail.”
Girlfriend.
At the police station, she’d been so grateful and also a bit relieved, but she hadn’t meant to kiss him. She didn’t want to lead him on. But she couldn’t make herself get out of his car. She couldn’t bear to look at him, but it was torment to turn away. Instead she dithered, tossed between warring emotions.
His fingers were squeezing hers too hard. Though he hadn’t said so, probably didn’t consciously know, he’d sensed the conflict too. She closed her eyes for a moment and steeled herself before turning back to him. Though the crystal blue of his eyes was amazing, it was the genuine worry that made her pause. The satisfied look had dropped away and Livvy glimpsed the vulnerable boy she once knew–the lonely kid who’d never had friends.
Suddenly, his lips were on hers. He’d pulled her forward so fast their teeth clicked. Her hand landed hard on his chest, and though she meant to push him back, she already knew she couldn’t. Her fingers scrunched up his t-shirt, and her heart pounded in her ears. Terrible longing fueled him, and though she knew what it was he needed, she also knew it wasn’t hers to give. Instead, there was only anguish. He pulled away.
“Are you…” he said, his voice faltering. “Are you crying?”
She tugged her hand free and backed away before she could think about it. “I have to go,” she whispered. With an unsteady hand on the dash and another on the door’s armrest, she managed to get out. But she could barely make out the building through the tears.
“Call me?” he said behind her, his voice plaintive and a little panicked.
Though she didn’t turn, she nodded. “I will.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
MIN HELD COLIN’S hand as they both held their breath. The transducer was cold against her stomach though the doctor had tried to warm it. Dr. Myoh slid it slowly along as the three of them stared at the black and white monitor. Though she seemed young, Dr. Myoh had come with high recommendations. Both Min and Colin had confidence in her.
“There you go,” the doctor said, pausing. “It’s a girl.” She pointed at the monitor. “No doubt about it. You’re going to have a girl.”
Min let out her breath.
“A girl!” Colin crowed so loud that Min started. Even the doctor had been taken by surprise. “A girl, Minty! Do you hear that?” Colin clutched her hand and kissed the back of it.
Despite her headache, Min smiled. “A girl,” she agreed.
There was a small knock on the examination room door and the nurse poked her head in. The look of consternation on her face said that Colin had been heard outside.
“It’s a girl,” he said to her and pointed at the monitor.
Though she allowed him a smile, she was obviously not pleased. She came in carrying a metal clipboard and closed the door behind her.
“We’ll just snap a photo,” said the doctor, toggling something on her console. Then she set the sensor in its cradle and took off the latex gloves. She rolled the stool backward, stood, and deposited the gloves in the bin. The nurse passed her the clipboard. Though doctor and nurse didn’t exchange words, Min saw something pass between them. The nurse’s expression hadn’t been disapproving; it’d been guarded.
“All right,” Dr. Myoh said. “Your blood pressure is up and your amniotic fluids are low.” She flipped a couple pages and took a pen from the pocket of her scrubs. “We’ll need to do something about both of those.”
The nurse put on a pair of gloves, took a large tissue from the box, and wiped some of the gel from Min’s stomach.
“See, Minty,” Colin said, stroking the back of her hand. “What did I tell you?”
Dr. Myoh looked between the two of them. “What did you tell her?”
“She has this friend–”
“Oh, Colin,” Min said. “It’s not her. It’s really not.”
“A friend?” said the doctor, no longer interested and looking at the clipboard, flipping the pages again.
“Ever since she arrived,” Colin said, “it’s been like this.”
“I see,” the doctor said, though she didn’t seem to be listening.
“Colin worries too much,” Min said, but she stopped short of contradicting him.
Though Livvy was her best friend in the entire world, something was up. Though Min sensed it, she shrugged it off. Nothing bad could ever come from Livvy. Once upon a time, she had been the one who saved Min, even when doctors and her own parents had given up.
As the nurse finished, Min focused on the blurry monitor image. That was their little girl. She squeezed Colin’s hand, and he beamed at her.
“A girl,” she whispered, her smile growing wider.
“I know!” he whispered back.
“Here’s my prescription,” Dr. Myoh said, closing the clipboard.
“Fluids,” she said, “and bed rest.”
“Okay,” Colin said nodding.
“The low amniotic fluid is a worry,” the doctor said. “Not a big one,” she continued, motioning to Colin to wait before he asked a question. “Your little girl will be fine as long as we take care of it right away. It’s probably brought on partially from the hyperemesis gravidarum, though that generally doesn’t result in something so serious.”
“Serious?” Colin asked.
The doctor shook her head. “Not unless we don’t treat it,” she said. “And we will.” She fixed Min with a look. “The nurse will give you an instruction sheet on your way out. You follow that even if you feel like you’ll float away.” Min and Colin both nodded. “The bed rest,” th
e doctor continued, “will address the high blood pressure.”
Min sat up and lowered the maternity shirt over her ballooning middle. Her headache was getting worse. Bed rest sounded good.
“So,” Colin said, helping her as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, “when you say ‘serious’, what are you saying?”
“I said,” Dr. Myoh replied, sounding a tad irritated, “we’re going to keep it from getting serious.”
“Right,” Colin said. “Right.” He grinned at Min and nodded. “It’s not going to get serious.”
But Min knew Colin and the smiling eyes didn’t fool her. He’d be on the Internet as soon as they were home, researching low amniotic fluid and high blood pressure.
He can research it all he likes, Min thought, but it’s not like every new mom has the Lightning Shaman as their best friend.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
LIVVY STOOD AT SK’s doorway, cold shock freezing her in position. The door was thrown open and even from the elevator she’d heard the ripping sound of tape dispensers. One packer was working in the living room and another in the kitchen. The bookshelves were already half empty. She turned a dazed look on the familiar door number and gripped the knob to steady herself.
“Looking for someone?” came a voice.
It was the packer in the living room. She managed to swivel her head and bring him into focus. Though he hadn’t stopped working, he was looking at her. He was a wiry man with long black hair and a hawkish look to his face. He slapped the tape dispenser on top of the box he’d just closed and sealed it.
Livvy forced herself to move and took a tentative step over the threshold. A mover came through with a hand truck, and she jumped back out of his way.
“Coming through,” the man said, passing her.
He stacked a column of cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room where they joined a growing collection. He reversed direction and left.
“I’m…” Livvy started, not able to find her voice. She cleared her throat. “I’m looking for SK.”
She shook her head to clear the ringing in her ears.
“Oh, the dwarf?” said the wiry man with the tape.
She held her breath. Please let him be here.
The packer jerked his thumb toward the open window.
What? The Pacific Ocean was in that direction. She swallowed in a dry throat. Is he…is he gone?
But Livvy couldn’t bring herself to ask that question. Instead, as though she was swimming through dark water caught up in some nightmare, she crossed the room. She picked her way around packing paper, piles of books, and flats of unused boxes. Though she knew the furniture, she didn’t recognize the place.
Light that was too bright streamed in through the large window screen. A fresh breeze carried the salt of the ocean. In the distance, the water glinted a dark but white-capped blue.
Below the window was the curved jogging path. Although there were a couple of benches near the building, they were empty. Beyond the path was a narrow stretch of beach and then a parallel bicycle track. Though the early afternoon sun beat down, the runners and cyclists seemed few. The tourist season was over. But out on the sand, midway between the surf and a lifeguard tower, was a figure she’d recognize anywhere. With hands in pockets, he was gazing out to sea.
“SK,” she whispered hoarsely, as relief flooded through her.
Though she steadied herself on the windowsill, it was only for a moment. In the next instant, she was running. She sprinted into the hallway, bolted down the stairway, and raced through the lobby. The world blurred around her, became indistinct, and only one thing filled her vision. Breathless, she ran toward him.
But he must have heard her coming because he turned his head. Although her heart leapt into her throat and she nearly cried out his name, she came to a skidding stop. As though wind had spilled from her sails, the air escaped her lungs in a huff and she sank. Her knees plowed into the beach and sand flew forward, pelting his jeans. But her eyes had never left his face. It was all there.
He knows.
What she’d come here to confess, SK already knew. It didn’t matter how or even when. She was too late.
He stood there looking at her, hands still in pockets. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said quietly.
She gasped at the sound of his voice, clutched at the pain in her chest, and shook her heavy head. Though she struggled to get the words out, she kept her voice even.
“You know me better than that,” she said.
A seagull cried up above them, and the surf gently crashed in the distance.
“It turns out I don’t,” he said.
Though she’d cleaned up the gash in her eyebrow, the blow had produced a bruise and the beginning of a black eye.
SK saw it and even took a step forward, reaching for her. “What the…” he muttered.
For a brief second, she dared to hope. “Sidirov,” she replied.
SK paused. His fingers were so close to her face she couldn’t even see them. But he never touched her. Instead, he backed up and put his hands back in his pockets. The sunlight that reflected from the sand shone in his amber eyes. But for all the light, his gaze was cold.
Despite the escalating ache tightening around her heart, she made herself speak normally. She had to at least try. “A shaman’s love potion,” she said, her jaw clenching.
“I’m sure,” he said, his voice and face impassive.
“I had no choice,” she said through her teeth.
“I know.”
Of course, he knows. He’d forgotten more about shamanism than she ever knew. A love spell was literally the oldest formula in the book and the most powerful. Before healers had ever interceded on behalf of people’s spirits, they’d created medicines for affairs of the heart. SK also knew that a potion only worked if there was an emotion there for it to work on.
But she didn’t love Brad. She pitied him. She cared for him as she would a client. She responded to him because he needed her help. At least that’s what she’d told herself. But now…now the pain inside said otherwise. But I don’t love Brad–do I?
Her hands flew to her face and covered it. The truth was she didn’t know. But what she did know was that she should have trusted SK. It shouldn’t have come to this. Images from their past flitted through her mind: standing at the mural in Tah-Itzá, a wintry cemetery on Second Mesa, laughing with Min, a hundred different healings, their first kiss.
“We came close,” he said quietly.
Her eyes snapped open. Though he didn’t say goodbye, he didn’t need to. She heard it loud and clear. With a finality that struck her like a door closing, he simply turned away.
Her heart convulsed as though it needed to escape. Her hands slapped down over it and her fingers dug into her own skin. She pressed inward, fighting for a breath, sucking in with all her might.
SK started back toward the building.
In what seemed like another life, she had let him go. In a very different place, she’d watched him walk away. She couldn’t do it again. Though her breast felt like it would split, her hand shot out and grabbed his.
“Don’t go,” she cried.
But his hand slipped from her grasp–just slid right out. There’d been no way to hang on. Though Livvy didn’t know what had happened, she didn’t care. SK had stopped. But he didn’t look at her. Instead, he looked down at his hand. It was covered with something.
It was a dark green that was nearly black, shiny and slick like oil. He stared at her hand too, and when she held it up to the sun, her trembling fingers glinted a dark green. She stared down at her chest. Over her heart, her blouse was soaked with the same iridescent slime.
“Liv?” SK said.
It was the first time he’d said her name. Though wild, insane joy burst inside, new pain constricted her throat. He gripped her at the shoulders, and she managed to raise her head.
“I think I’m going to need help,” she whispered.
CH
APTER FIFTY-FOUR
AS SK HAD followed Liv into Mamacita’s office, he was careful not to touch her. Out of habit, he’d nearly held her hand a few times on the short trip over. Maybe more than habit, he had to admit. But now, he did his best to stay out of her peripheral vision.
“Well, I must say,” Mamacita said, bending over to peer at Liv’s blouse. “It’s not the type of request I get every day.” She looked over the top of her glasses at him, then back to Liv. “This just ‘came out’?”
SK nodded.
“Yeah,” Liv said, her voice strained. She gripped the back of the closest leather chair. “I want it gone.”
“Well, I would say that’s obvious,” Mamacita said, straightening up. “It’s hard to believe you got this far without some help.”
“Some help,” Pete echoed.
As far as SK knew, it shouldn’t have even happened. But it was the one thing that gave him hope. The noxious substance should have stayed in her system. Through sheer force of will, Liv had managed to remove some. But for the entire drive, she’d reclined in the passenger seat, eyes closed, her face to the broken window, trying to breathe deeply. When she’d first suggested the visit to Mamacita, he’d readily agreed. But now, he was having doubts. The pain was constant.
Liv had begun to take a seat, but Mamacita stopped her.
“Sorry, honey,” Mamacita said, taking Liv by the elbow. “This has to be you.”
“What?” she whispered, holding her chest.
There was a small, round, wooden table in the middle of the three chairs. Though it looked like it might have recently held a potted plant, there was a mortar and pestle on it, already full of ingredients. Liv sucked in a sharp breath as Mamacita helped her to stand next to it.
SK had to speak up. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said.
Mamacita was already watching Liv intently.
“Livvy, honey, maybe SK is–”
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 18
