Secret

by Skye Warren

  “Hell, no,” Jenny said. “If there’s going to be ass-kicking, I want to be a part of it.”

  “No. There will be no ass-kicking for you.”

  She pouted. “As if you’re a ninja or something.”

  “If you must know, I’ve had lessons in shooting a gun. Plus, I’ve been shot. It’s a special club.”

  “A gun lesson.” She sounded giddy. She turned to Major. “You mean you can teach me how to use one?”

  “Your enthusiasm is disturbing but irrelevant,” I told her. “We can’t do a lesson now.”

  “I’m going,” she whispered. “You can’t stop me.”

  “Very mature.”

  “Look at it this way,” Major murmured. “I’m going, so she’s probably safer with us than alone.”

  We got out of the car. Every car door closing made me wince, and I waited for men to come running out. When nothing happened, I let out a breath. We crept along the line of the trees until we reached the fence. It was still cut away where we’d entered before. An odd lapse in security, but I supposed Henri had already evacuated this place for the most part. If he was just coming here for a meeting, he wouldn’t need to establish a perimeter.

  Slipping inside, we made it to the first hangar before Major put up his hand. He lifted his gun, signaling for us to stay back while the shadows enveloped him. I heard a low voice and then a brief scuffle. I blinked, my eyes wide, but I couldn’t make him out. Pushing Jenny behind me, I was about to get us the hell out of there when Major reappeared with his arm around another man. I saw the red bandanna first, then noticed the rest of him.

  “Rico,” I said with relief, then realized Major was basically choking him. “What the hell?”

  Rico threw Major off him and echoed my shock, but with more profanity.

  “Was it you?” Major asked. “Don’t fuck with me right now; just tell me I can trust you.”

  Rico grew still. “You saved my ass, literally, when I was nine years old. I told you then that I had your back, and that hasn’t changed.”

  Major stared at him, measuring, and finally blew out a breath.

  “Now,” Rico said. “What in the actual fuck was that?”

  “Someone betrayed us,” Major said.

  Both men turned to look at me.

  “Yes, okay,” I said. “Be a stereotype and blame the hooker.”

  Rico frowned. “It doesn’t make sense that it would be her or Luke, not with their asses on the line. And if it wasn’t you or me, then…”

  “It was Jeff,” I said. “He must have put something in my water.”

  Rico shook his head in frustration. “He said you’d been shot, but we couldn’t find your…” The word body hung in the air. “Luke was frantic. He almost got killed because he refused to leave without finding you first. We had to drag him out of there.”

  He’d thought I was dead? “Where is he?”

  “I heard some of the guys talking,” Rico said. “The meeting is happening in the middle hangar. We have to get over there before he does something crazy.”

  We turned to go around the back. That was when I saw it. A faint red light glowing from the ground, the remains of a cigarette. Which meant the guards were nearby. I opened my mouth to warn them, but before a sound emerged, a shot rang out. Rico fell to the ground. Major jumped over Jenny to cover her. Heavy hands closed around my neck.

  Gleaming white teeth shone in the dark, the Cheshire cat holding a machine gun. “You’re back.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The dark of a windowless room enveloped me, followed by a humid stench strong enough to gag me. Mold and copper—it smelled like pain. Henri’s shoes clipped the concrete softly from behind me, incongruously civilized compared to the almost dungeon-like atmosphere…but it was a lie. This place suited him more than the well-guarded penthouse where he conducted business. It was how he saw the world, darkness and death inescapable.

  An elbow rammed into my back, and I fell to the floor, landing in a thin film of grimy water. From the floor, I heard the drip-drip from somewhere else in the room. Slowly my senses sharpened, revealing a counterpoint—low, harsh breathing. Labored breathing.

  My voice wavered. “Luke?”

  “Don’t worry.” Henri’s voice came from beside my ear as he bent to speak to me. “I punished him for taking you without payment. I know you were very concerned about that.”

  “Luke.” I shuddered, feeling bone-deep revulsion for the breath on my ear, mourning whatever unseen pain had been inflicted. This was my fault, not his. My pain, and my body craved it with a kind of gnawing hunger—anything but have him suffer. I couldn’t stand it.

  I had to.

  Summoning my strength, I stood. In the center of the room, I could make out a shadow. A chair. A man, slumped over.

  He didn’t register my approach. He was not conscious. At least, his eyes looked closed, but they might have been too puffy to see. He might have heard me call his name in horror and pain, but for the blackened blood dripping into his ears. He must have felt me when his head jerked away from my hand—though it might have been an unconscious move, like the leaves that fold at the touch of a finger.

  “Oh God,” I whispered. “What did they do to you?”

  Hurt him, beat him, tortured him. My mind didn’t want to accept it. Find another answer, one that wouldn’t leave Luke bleeding.

  Blood leaked from the corner of his eye, dried into a crusted tear. His face, his head was a mass of blue and black and purple, swollen and misshapen and beautiful because I could still hear the rasping breath from his bloodied lips. I could still see the beat of a green vein at an undisturbed patch of skin at the hollow of his neck. I touched my fingertip to that spot. He was warm and smooth there, where life and hope still beat.

  I heard the steady clop-clop of Henri’s shoes as he came near. I shut my eyes, willing myself to remain still, remain focused, but how could I focus in the face of my worst fears? Luke hurt and Henri with nothing to lose—I didn’t know which one was more terrifying. Where did I go when both dreams and waking held nightmares?

  He touched a hand to the back of my neck, the soft pressure almost reassuring. “If you had only listened,” he said with what sounded like regret. “I had such hopes for you. After I’m gone, the two of you could have ruled.”

  The force of my denial shook my body. I knew he could feel it, so I didn’t bother to hide the disgust in my voice. “Never. He never would have done what you do.”

  After a pause, he laughed. “I didn’t mean Luke.” Before I could ask who he meant, he continued in a low taunt. “Though his hands are not as clean as you think.”

  “Lies,” I spat.

  “Come now. We may not always agree, but have you ever known me to lie outright?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.” He chuckled. “But in this case, I wouldn’t. The truth is far too glorious on its own. Didn’t you ever wonder why Luke cared so much about the plight of the working girl?”

  I had wondered, but it was only because Luke was so good—someone like Henri couldn’t possibly understand motives so pure. Someone like me.

  “Didn’t ever wonder how he knew so much about the life? I know you did. It was part of what drew you to him.”

  I hated that he knew that. I had sacrificed almost everything for the shields I wore. Only a handful of people could see through them. Luke was one of them, Henri another. They were opposite sides of the coin…weren’t they?

  “I don’t believe anything you say,” I whispered, though it sounded like a weak defense even to my ears. I was so starved for anything about Luke, for something true and deep. His shields were as fortified as my own, but one thing could always pierce them. Our pasts, our history. The turning point at which we first realized we needed a shield at all, when the world had attacked.

  “He was like you. A prostitute. Only worse, I think. You have to spread your legs. It is the way of a woman, for all of time, yes? A man can bear much more phy
sical pain than a woman, but far less humiliation. To suck another man’s dick for twenty dollars in an alley. To bend over. He ceases to be a man.”

  No, it couldn’t be. He would have told me. He might have kept it from me, but I would have been able to tell. It explained so much. I could always feel that shame leaking from their heavily powdered pores, wafting on each nervous breath.

  Though an unwelcomed power, I could always detect when another had undergone the same denial, the same internal negotiations: it doesn’t mean anything, they can’t touch you on the inside, they can’t even see you. It was a repellant. I had enough sick deals in my own head without shouldering someone else’s. But Luke… No.

  He was too straitlaced. He fought prostitution because it went against his lofty morals, and that was the way I damn well liked it. We were opposites that way, light and dark, the sky and the earth, touching along the horizon but never to mix. Attached for eternity but always separate. If we were the same after all… No no no.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said with conviction now. I wouldn’t, couldn’t.

  “I hope you didn’t suck his dick,” he said. “No telling where it’s been.”

  I whirled, catching him on the cheek with my nails. The odds were stacked so high against us, too high, but I wouldn’t make it easy. Let him try to touch Luke again with me nearby. I swung, slamming my fist in the side of his neck. He wouldn’t even have been the one to kill us. One of his men, as he delegated everything except for this.

  He pinned me, and I panted against the wall.

  “Bitch,” he spat into my face. “I should kill you for that.”

  “So do it,” I panted. “Why don’t you fucking do it already?”

  I realized my question had been sincere. Why was I still alive? Why was Luke? I couldn’t have much gratitude for it, considering the pain he must be in, considering the way this would have to end, a tragedy after all.

  An icy fire raged in Henri’s eyes, matched by the frosted blue of his vest. It wasn’t any desire to whore me out that kept him from putting a bullet in my brain. He must know by now I wouldn’t cooperate, and even without that, I had disrespected him enough that retribution would be death. The only reason I should still be alive was if he wanted to hurt me…except he had hurt me so very little. Yes, the emotional hurt of Luke lanced me worse than a whip, but that seemed too nuanced even for a consummate asshole like Henri.

  Still leaning against the wall, I murmured, “What is it? What hold do I have over you that I don’t even know I have?”

  “Don’t try my patience. There isn’t much left.”

  “Then kill me. Why waste time?”

  He turned back. “You’re not the one in control here.”

  “Then who?” I whispered.

  After a pause he said, “I am,” but neither of us believed that anymore. “You’ll find what you’re looking for soon enough, but I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much.” He stalked from the room. His men followed, locking us in behind them.

  I considered briefly falling at Luke’s feet, just falling apart. That approach had its appeal, but I had an advantage here. For once, I wasn’t the remains of what my father had done to me. Not even the punishment I had inflicted on myself with my choice of profession for the years after. I’d had a friend who’d helped me, and so I knew what kindness looked like. In the clumsy way of a child copying his elders, I tugged at the knots at his wrists until they gave. I pulled him down to the floor, where I cradled his head in the nook of my arm, not shying away from his body, not using any hollow quip to buffer the bond between us. He radiated heat and pain, and so I took it into myself, not a sacrifice this time but a comfort. A tear fell from my cheek onto his. I touched it, washing the dirt and blood away from his skin.

  Was it true, what Henri had said? It was an idle question, something to ponder. Do you think it will rain tomorrow? Doesn’t matter, worry about it then.

  He stirred, groaning. It was an animal sound, an agony sound.

  “Shh,” I soothed, but the tears came faster, and the sounds did not stop. “I’ll sing to you,” I offered, “but you’ll probably wish I hadn’t.”

  I sang him songs that I’d sung to my goddaughter in a different lifetime. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Morbid for a children’s song, I had always thought. And of course I’d been perversely attracted to it. Now it seemed appropriate in the almost-underground area we found ourselves in, with no light and little air.

  Please don’t take my sunshine away.

  Chapter Twelve

  When he settled, I left him and explored the room, feeling around the hinges of the door, just in case, and along the walls. On the far wall, I ran my hip into a table. Some sort of workstation, judging by its height and breadth. I caught a few splinters in my palm and a few loose rocks at the bottom of the crumbling concrete wall, the occasional screw.

  “Aha.” My fingers clasped on cool metal, and I released a puff of satisfied breath. Some sort of tool, maybe a wrench. Hardly a fair fight against too many men armed with guns I barely knew how to hold. Still better than waiting to die.

  “Shelly?” Luke’s voice was hoarse, a little disoriented.

  “Here.” I swallowed my guilt and worry and returned to his side. “I’m here.”

  “Why?” A pained pause. “How?”

  “I came to save you,” I said with a small laugh. “It hasn’t gone so great so far, but don’t worry. I like to save some of my tricks for the big finish.”

  He groaned, whether in pain or annoyance at my joke, I wasn’t sure—probably both.

  “Have to…have to get out.” His eyes were merely green slits, but slowly they came into focus. Awareness would only bring pain now.

  I stroked the hair at his temple. “Don’t worry about that. Just rest. I’ve got it covered. I took a self-defense class…kind of. Of course I don’t have a gun, so it’s not very useful, but the point is, I’m not going to let them hurt you again.”

  He struggled to sit up. No matter how I soothed and reprimanded him, he insisted on propping himself up against the wall, away from me. He touched his nose gingerly, then sucked in a breath.

  “Broken,” he muttered through swollen lips. “Hope you’re not too attached to the face. Probably won’t heal right by the time we get outta here.”

  “I appreciate the optimism, but since you’re planning on living through this, maybe you shouldn’t be sitting up or talking right now.”

  He ignored that, using his interrogation voice. “When did he leave? How long until he comes back?”

  “Don’t know and don’t know. Must have left my glow-in-the-dark watch in my other dress.”

  “I’m assuming you don’t have a phone either.”

  “Surprisingly, they didn’t give me one. Guess they figured I would call someone.”

  The low sound he made was more frustrated than amused. “Where’s Major?”

  I sobered. “Lost him along the way.”

  “So no one knows you’re here?”

  “I’m sure your precious cops are on their way to help. It’s a good thing they don’t have red tape or bureaucracy or anything that would slow them down when they come rescue us.”

  His stern look was overshadowed by the mosaic of blue-green bruises across his skin. “Laying it on a little thick with the sarcasm today?”

  “Well, I’ve been on the run for my life for weeks now. Abandoned by you. Kidnapped. Forced to become a hooker. Again. It’s either irreverent sarcasm or a nervous breakdown.”

  “Keep on with it, then,” he said gruffly.

  So I did. “You’ll be pleased to know I found a wrench, so if we need any furniture assembled, we’re covered. Speaking of which, there are a few tables over in that corner. That’s all. A table, a chair. It’s all very minimalist, very contemporary. The dirt is a nice touch, kind of like tree-hugger modish.”

  He stood with a low moan that raised the hairs on my arms. Before he’d had time to recover or become s
teady on his feet, he followed the walls, feeling for himself. After a minute and some rustling I heard, “Take off your stockings.”

  “Just like that? No dinner date first? No down payment?”

  “I’m going to fill them with rocks.”

  “Oh, I see. We’re making homegrown weaponry, like prison inmates. It was only a matter of time, being locked up like this. It’s like some kind of social experiment. Pretty soon we’ll turn on each other.”

  He filled them with the loose nails and crumbled concrete. “I didn’t abandon you, by the way. Not exactly. I thought you were dead.”

  “What?”

  “First it just seemed like you were passed out, some kind of sedative.”

  “And then you left.”

  “I thought you’d died. I was back in fifteen minutes to get you, but you were gone. No trace, and Jeff told me…” He paused, his grief saturating the air around us. “I thought you were dead,” he repeated, and I heard the uncertainty, as if he still worried it might be true. As if I were just some beating-inspired hallucination.

  “I’m here.”

  “I know.” A hollow laugh came from his chest. “I heard what Henri told you. I knew you must be real then. I couldn’t have made that up even in my nightmares.”

  Was that a denial or confession? “Henri’s a bastard,” I said quietly. “I don’t care what he said.”

  “Don’t you? I sure as hell do. The whole time we’ve been talking, that’s all I can think of. Why haven’t you asked?”

  Tears sprang to my eyes, warm and plump. “If you wanted me to know something, you’d tell me.” No matter how I tried to placate him, it only seemed to make him more agitated. More accusatory.

  “Ah, so you do believe him.”

  “Tell me what you want me to say,” I whispered. “Just tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

  “Right,” he said with a cruel twist, “because you’re whoever I want you to be, you’ll do whatever I say. God forbid you ask me a goddamn question. God forbid you care.”

  “Why?” I asked thickly. “Would it matter if I did? Would you actually want to be with me then, or would you keep pushing me away?”