Hidden

by T K Barber

  A puff of air left her in irritation as she stared up at his determined face. Always with that.

  “No. Rico. Not us.”

  Rico growled and put his hands on his hips. “You know what? You’re right. Not us.”

  He moved past her, but she shot out her hand and grabbed his upper arm. “Where are . . .” Her eyes widened. “No, I’ll send someone else—”

  “No.” He snatched his arm free and spun in place to face her. “And you stay here.” He jammed a finger toward the floor. “Inside. Do you understand?!”

  His panicked anger made her jaw drop, and she blinked. His chest heaved as he waited for an answer.

  She lowered her brow. “I’m not staying here doing nothing, Rico. You know that’s not who I am.”

  “GOD!” He grabbed her shoulders, shocking her further, and knitted his brow. “Sei così testardo! Mi fai impazzire!”

  “Damn it, Rico!” She swallowed, the intensity in his gaze almost overwhelming. “What does that mean? Speak English!”

  “Just!”

  Marianna only had one second to glare at the frustration in his face before he yanked her forward and kissed her.

  Her eyes bugged and fluttered shut with a whimper as he slid his hands up her neck, cupping her face. His mouth was soft and warm and gone far, far too soon.

  He released her, stepped backward, and let out an exasperated grunt. “Stay. Here.”

  He spun on his heel and stormed across the room to the back door. “Testardo.” He muttered angrily with each step. “Posso risolvere questo problema. Posso tenerla al sicuro.” He slapped the doorframe, then clawed a hand through his hair before he jerked the handle and stomped through, letting the door close behind him on its own.

  She stared after him for a few seconds before releasing the breath she’d been holding in a confused huff.

  Rico . . .

  She licked her bottom lip, butterflies tumbling in her stomach. When had that happened? These past two months had been nothing but stressful but . . . he’d been here. For her. With her.

  She wrapped one arm around her waist and put the other on her cheek as a smile formed.

  It fell just as fast, and she swallowed. There was no time for that now. Her steps were quick as she paced in a small circle, flexing her fists.

  She couldn’t just sit here, useless while everyone else was putting their lives at risk. Especially Rico. What if something happened to him? What if she never saw him again? How on Earth would she—

  Three loud raps on the front door stopped her heart, and she jumped.

  Annalise

  A loud crash made Annalise’s head snap around. Her pulse rocketed again, and she dug her nails into her palms. What in the world was he doing down there? Other than being creepy.

  She turned on her heel and crossed the room, at the door frame in a flash. He’d better not be breaking anything.

  “Ryker?”

  “Yeah. Come on down.” The tone in his voice was off again. Maybe it was all in her head. She plodded down, one clunking step at a time until she got to the floor, stumbling a bit on the last step.

  “Where are you?” She tiptoed over to the tiny office to the left of the door and swept aside the dividing cloth. Not there. She let the cloth drop, almost deaf from the whoosh of pounding blood in her ears.

  She didn’t like this at all.

  “Ryker?” Her voice pitched at the end, and she swallowed.

  The kitchen/storage area was mostly dark save for a light in the furthest section, by the double oven.

  A shudder wracked her body, and she crossed her arms. Motion lights, at least twelve, were going on her shopping list the second she got home.

  “Quit being a dick, Ryker.” Her voice quaked. “If you jump out at me, I’ll punch you.”

  She heard his laugh from around the corner to her right and blew out a shallow breath. She might just punch him anyway.

  He slunk around the wall holding two bottles of water, a wide smile stuck to his face like tape.

  God, was he on something?

  “Sorry about that. Here.” He thrust one out to her. She raised a brow and took it, tucking it against the thudding vein on the side of her neck. The cold seeped into her skin and made the pins and needles in her hand less prominent.

  “What the hell was that noise?”

  He shrugged and cracked the seal on his bottle. “Tripped. Drink up.”

  She shook her head in a small motion and twisted her lid open. Ryker eyed her as he took a long swig of his bottle, and she lifted hers to her lips. Wait.

  She froze. “Where’d you get these?”

  He swallowed with a loud gulp and shrugged again. “Found them in the back of the fridge. Maybe Vincent dropped them off? I don’t know. I was just thirsty, and knew you needed something.” A normal smile.

  “Gotcha. Thanks.” She smiled back and copied him.

  The ice-cold water was a bandaid for her parched throat, and she closed her eyes. God, she really was thirsty. Two more swallows and over half the bottle was gone.

  She pulled the bottle down and looked at the label. “This is really good. It’s sort of sweet. Did yours taste like . . . that?”

  She put her other hand to the side of her head as the floor swayed under her. Ryker stepped up, brow creased in concern. “Woah.” He steadied her with a hand on each shoulder, a smile playing on his lips. “I got you. Damn, you waited too long. Drink the rest. You really did get dehydrated.”

  That made sense. Annalise nodded in slow motion and missed her mouth the first time. Ryker helped her line it up, smile widening. Why was his face so blurry?

  Three more gulps and the thing in her hand made an odd crinkle noise. He peeled whatever it was out of her grip and tossed it across the room.

  “How are you feeling, baby?”

  Baby? What the shit was he— her knees buckled, and he caught her, his grin wide enough to fall into.

  “Good. That was faster than I expected, but still. I’ve thought about you all day.”

  What was she feeling? She really just wanted to go home. Go to sleep.

  He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her firm against him as he swiped his tongue across her lip. A disgusted shudder rolled through her.

  Her body responded, though, and she moved through the motions even though her brain burned.

  His tongue dove deep and tangled with hers. Her body numbed. Was she kissing him back?

  She lost her breath as his other hand traveled up her side, under her shirt. She didn’t want him to touch her. She managed a half-assed shove before her arms turned to jelly. He pulled back from her and moved his mouth to her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

  “You have to know what you’re doing, by the way. Too much, and your victim might just pass out. Or even die. Too little, and it really won’t have that much of an effect.”

  His hand moved over her ribs, and panic swelled in her when his thumb brushed the skin under the bottom edge of her bra, but she couldn’t move.

  “And then, of course, to be highly effective, you’d need to know someone’s body chemistry. Maybe have their medical records.”

  His hands traveled a slow path over her bra as he scanned her face. “Lucky for you. . .” he leaned in and placed a kiss on the side of her neck, then pulled back with a sick grin. “I’m a doctor.” He caught her gaze. “And I know exactly what I’m doing. Experience makes the best teacher.”

  His face went in and out of focus as his grin widened. Doctors knew what they were doing. That was true.

  He let out a throaty chuckle, and with a flick of his thumb, sent a zip of sensation shooting through her chest. “See?” his thumb moved again, sending another wave. “I knew you’d enjoy it too.”

  He moved her arms around his neck and pulled her backward toward the door. “Come on. You’ll be more comfortable in my bed.”

  A hazy cloud covered her thoughts, but in a
moment of clarity, her eyes bugged. NO! She tried to scream but her mouth was hardly listening, being worked with his in a heated, somewhat one-sided kiss.

  She needed to do something. Dizziness wove through her, and her arms wouldn’t move from around his neck. But her legs still worked.

  She jerked her knee upward, driving it hard into his crotch. He let out a near breathless grunt and released her as he doubled over, groaning.

  She stumbled sideways and fell against the wall, her arms useless.

  Where was she? Everything blurred again, and she slid down the unpainted drywall to a useless heap on the floor. Her stomach turned, and she closed her eyes. She lost sight of Ryker’s frame knelt with his forehead rested against his forearm on the floor.

  Wait . . . did she know him? Her limbs buzzed, and a strange pin pricked her temples repeatedly. Something was wrong.

  The door being jerked open forced her eyelids apart. A man with dirty blond hair stormed over the threshold and jerked the other man up by his hair.

  Who were they? Why was she on the floor?

  The sounds reaching her ears were tinny and painful. She rasped in a breath, forcing it past her closing throat. Something was really wrong.

  She blinked and sucked in another breath as her eyes bugged.

  Thomas!

  Her arms unresponsive, her voice uncontrollable, her lungs losing the fight, she looked on in horror as tears streamed down her motionless face.

  Help me . . .

  Thomas

  There was nothing. Step in front of step. One chunk of pavement turned into another one.

  One thing. Just had to focus on one thing. Ryker’s face was front and center. Kill. Pop wanted him to do something. Finally asked him to do something that he knew he’d do. That made a weird feeling sit in the center of his chest. He’d be proud this time. There’d be no way Thomas could mess it up this time, Pop said so.

  Streetlights, stop lights, crosswalk, foot in front of foot.

  Anna.

  He blinked and took one faster step. Pop said Ryker might be in his office. Bust. Said he might be on the corner of Bertman Bay Avenue and Sixth, sitting in the alley waiting on buyers. Another bust.

  Car after car passed by Thomas on the right as he stalked down the sidewalk to his target.

  Pop would be proud this time. Thomas wanted that almost more than anything. That weird feeling got bigger, and he froze beside the chaotic horse statue, breathing in large draws.

  Family. Pop was all he had.

  Anna.

  His heart stuttered and he frowned. Nataly was dead. Ma was dead. So, he had to make his pop happy. He really had no choice.

  Thomas rounded the last building on Main and stalked straight up to the back door of the cafe. Last place Pop said to look tonight. If this was a bust, he didn’t know what—

  Thomas paused for one second. Their cafe. He winced, then scowled. Pop’ll be proud. The door jerked open, and Thomas smiled.

  Found him.

  No clue why the guy was already doubled over, but that didn’t matter. Made this all the easier.

  He stomped up to Ryker and grabbed the top of his head, giving it a harsh backward yank. A strangled shout left the punk doctor’s throat as he scrambled to his feet.

  Thomas didn’t give him time to take another breath before he cold-cocked him so hard Ryker’s body did a half turn. He dropped to his knees and shouted in pain, cupping his jaw.

  “What the . . . HELL?!”

  Thomas ignored him, grabbed his collar, and yanked him up to eye level.

  “Pop says ‘Deal’s off’.”

  Thomas reared back and landed another monster blow. Ryker’s head lolled backward for a brief second before he winced and tried to shove Thomas’s hand away.

  “T—”

  Thomas’s eyes widened, and he flicked his gaze to the wall beyond the entrance.

  Anna. Crumpled like some rag doll, wet cheeks and frozen in place.

  Ryker groaned, and Thomas sneered as he released him. Ryker staggered back a step, just enough that Thomas could get leverage to land a devastating gut punch. Ryker sputtered blood and doubled over, one hand on the ground.

  He’d end this for his pop. His pop would be proud, for the first—

  Anna’s fingers twitched, and Thomas blinked.

  Why wasn’t she moving? Her midnight waterfall looked like a kicked puddle, splashes of it around her head, some even on the wall. Her head was tilted, her eyes barely open. Was she sleeping?

  Thomas was distracted long enough for Ryker to crawl to the foot of the stairs and pull himself up by the railing.

  “See?”

  Thomas whirled around to pin Ryker with a glare. Blood dripped from his swollen mouth, and his words slurred.

  “You’re proving—” he spat and wiped under his lip. “—my point. Violent.”

  Thomas growled low in his throat as he took another menacing step. “Damn right.”

  Anna gasped in a breath, and his blood froze.

  Kill. He was supposed to kill Ryker and report back. Pop said ‘Kill him, Thomas. Make me proud. Be the son I always wanted.’

  Thomas wanted that. He wanted—

  A shallow breath left Annalise’s mouth, like a hiss of steam from a train, and Thomas blinked several times in a row.

  What did he want?

  He gritted his teeth. Anna. He wanted Anna.

  He shook his head hard and spun to face her.

  An all too familiar click wormed into his mind, and his heart ran away in his chest. Gun.

  “Like I’d be unprepared.” Another spit from the doc. “In this fucking—”

  The shot’s explosive roar filled the stairwell, accompanied by Ryker’s grating scream. Thomas dove toward the still motionless Annalise. She couldn’t have been sleeping this long. Not through all that racket. Was she okay?

  When the echo was replaced with footsteps descending the stairs Thomas popped up, ready to fight. Whoever was coming wouldn’t lay a finger on Anna.

  “Cenere alla cenere. Polvere alla polvere.”

  Vincent. Relief blew through him. Why was he here?

  “That sounds better in English.” A pause, punctuated by Ryker’s groans and whimpers as he clutched at his bloody calf. “I’m just saying.”

  No clue who that guy was but, if he was with V, he had to be good. Thomas’s mind hazed a little. Was this letting his pop down? Ryker wasn’t dead yet.

  The pair came into view as they neared Ryker’s body.

  Vincent’s tall self was closest to Thomas, and when he stepped over Ryker’s writhing body first, Thomas caught sight of his buddy.

  The guy had tats all over his arms. Not as elaborate as his own, but a lot of them, anyway. Even a couple up his neck. He wore a white button-down short sleeve shirt, black slacks and suspenders, in that ironic hipster style.

  More awesome than the ink, though, was the hefty ax handle clutched in one hand, scrawled with words and numbers. He bounced the other end on his open palm.

  You could do some serious damage with that.

  Vincent slid the gun further away from Ryker with his foot, and glanced at Thomas, raising his brows. “Are you alright?”

  Thomas said nothing, just stared at the scene.

  Vincent tilted his head, ultimately refocusing on the other guy when he crouched down on the last step, looming over Ryker.

  “Hey, shit weasel.” He jabbed the ax handle into Ryker’s rib.

  Ryker grunted and spat. “Fuck.” He grimaced. “Y—” He cut himself off with a scream, when the ax handle was shoved against the bloody spot.

  “V, I heard him ask me to crack his knee cap. You hear that too?” The guy grinned as he looked up, but his smile fell when Vincent shook his head. “What? Why the fuck not? Douchey doctors on the Valentine payroll who manipulate young patients into doing God knows what totally deserve to have all the bones in their body shattered.” He ja
mmed the ax handle into the bullet hole again, earning himself another shout.

  “Not yet, Jack.” V tucked his gun in his back waistband. “He won’t be able to listen after you do that.”

  Jack’s mouth curled up at the corners, and he nodded as he looked back at Ryker. “Boss wants to chat first. It’s not going to be about the divorce papers shoved in that tea, neither.”

  Vincent cast another look at Thomas, then crossed his arms and glared at the skeezy doc. “What are you doing here? Did you do something to Thomas? Where is Annalise?”

  Anna. Thomas’s brain skittered. Anna . . .

  He turned to face the stunning beauty off to his left. Vincent sucked in a breath behind him.

  “Annalise! Madre de DIO!”

  He ran to her side, and Thomas struggled to clear his mind further, eyes still trained on the doc. Ryker was as good as dead now. Was he supposed to go home?

  Vincent straightened her head and lowered his ear to her mouth.

  “This could be serious. She needs to go to the hospital. Jack drive the car around.” Vincent threw his keys to Jack, who shot up the stairs.

  Hospital.

  People only went there if they were really hurt. And if V said she needed—

  A storm crackled through Thomas’s veins in super-charged rush of adrenaline, twisting with a fear unlike he’d ever felt. The haze he’d been in lifted in sputters, leaving hollow aches in his temples, his neck, his brain.

  He spun on his heel and looked at her, really looked, the blood draining from his face as his fog lifted even more.

  “ANNA!”

  His whole body lit on fire, limbs itching to move. Every other thought escaped, and his overwhelming love for her hit him like a sack of marbles.

  He dropped down beside her and cradled her head.

  “Anna, baby?” He stroked her immobile face with his shaking hands and wiped away her tears. “Hey, I gotcha. I’ll take care of you.”

  She closed her eyes, releasing another tear, then her chest shuddered with barely visible breaths. Fear dug claws into Thomas’s stomach.

  She was not going to die. There’d be no reason to keep going on if she did. “Gorgeous, you gotta hang on. I dunno what that sick fuck did, but I’ll fix it. Well, the docs will. But I’ll be right ther—”