The Lost & Damned 2

by Keira Michelle Telford

  Silver accepts his answer, and accepts his hands caressing her shoulders.

  “El, we’re going to figure out what happened to you. I promise.” He checks his watch. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  Alex rushes to grab a jacket. “I have to go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “Maydevine suspended me, and the Division’s making me attend some stupid psych evaluation before I can be reinstated.”

  “Suspended you? What for?”

  “Breaking the rules. When I thought you were dead, I …”

  Silver remembers waking up to his face—a face that should’ve been hidden behind a protective suit—and she gets it. “You went all Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Something like that.”

  “That would be romantic, if it weren’t so dumb.”

  “It wasn’t my brightest moment. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You can live without me, Alex. You’ve done it before.”

  “There are a lot of things I can do, El. Whether or not I want to do them is another matter.” He checks his watch again. “You won’t go anywhere, right?”

  “I’m under house arrest?”

  “Protective custody, more like. You’re not a prisoner, but we need to keep you out of sight, just for the time being. We broke the law to bring you back here, and Maydevine needs some time to straighten things out with the Governor. Until then, we can’t risk anyone seeing you and recognizing your face.” He makes his way toward the front door. “Make yourself comfortable here, okay?”

  Rhetorical.

  He’s already gone.

  Instantly bored, Silver looks around, completely at a loss as to what to do with her time. Alex’s cat startles her by jumping up onto the dresser next to her.

  It meows at her.

  “Go away.” Silver swats at it.

  The stoic cat stays put, and keeps meowing until Silver reluctantly pets it. Tickling it under the chin, Silver checks the name tag.

  Ella.

  “Oh, no. You’ve gotta be kidding me?”

  The cat stares at her.

  “You can’t compete with me, Fuzzball.” Silver pokes at it. “I’m the real deal.”

  Meow.

  “He actually likes it when I stick my claws in him,” Silver persists. “And I don’t shit in a box.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Hidden Agendas

  Alex sits in silence on the couch of an Omega psychologist, the psychologist busily scribbling notes on a piece of paper.

  “Did I say something interesting?” Alex wonders.

  “I don’t know. Did you?”

  Alex sighs, folding his arms defensively. “See, this is why I hate this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “What makes you think I want something?”

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t know. Maybe because you people always have some sort of agenda.”

  “‘You people’?”

  “Shrinks.”

  Silence.

  “I see,” the shrink murmurs.

  Alex is getting frustrated. “I took my head gear off—big deal. What’s this really all about?”

  “You violated hospital policy. You risked your life and others.”

  “Yes, but it was …”

  “It was what?”

  “The virus is a blood borne pathogen. What risk was there to me?”

  Silence.

  The shrink makes a notation.

  “The woman you brought to the hospital. What’s her name again?”

  “Jennifer McAllister,” Alex answers carefully.

  “And how well do you know her?”

  Alex studies the shrink closely. “Not at all.”

  “She means nothing to you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Or does she?” the shrink pushes.

  “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “When did you and Jennifer McAllister first meet?”

  “When I found her bleeding in the street. Why?”

  “No reason at all. Except that acts of suicide are always driven by extremely intense emotions, and I’m finding it hard to understand why the death of a complete stranger might cause you to—”

  “You think I was trying to kill myself?” Alex cuts him off.

  “Weren’t you?”

  “I just told you: there was no risk.”

  “Yes, well, the hospital disagrees.” The shrink consults his notes. “The hospital staff also mentioned in their report that you seemed rather distressed the night you and Commissioner Maydevine brought her in.”

  Alex rolls his eyes. “I just watched a woman almost bleed to death in the backseat of my car. So yeah, I was a little distressed.”

  “I’ll ask you again: how well do you know Jennifer McAllister?”

  “I don’t.”

  “You’d never met her before?”

  “Did I not already say that?” Alex leans back in his seat, making himself comfortable. “Look, whatever it is you’re hoping I’ll say, I won’t. So I’d really appreciate it if we could spur this on a little.”

  Silence.

  The shrink plots tactics, tapping his pen against the notebook in his lap. “All right.” He sets the pen down. “You were paying her for sex, is that it?”

  Shock tactics.

  Alex is temporarily lost for words.

  “It’s okay,” the shrink assures him. “I’m not the law. You can’t be charged with anything you tell me here in confidence.”

  Alex catches sight of a surveillance camera in the corner of the room. “Is this being recorded?”

  “All of my sessions with Omega staff members are recorded.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “It’s filed as part of your service record.”

  “Didn’t you say these sessions are confidential?”

  “They are.”

  Alex stares him down, waiting for more.

  “Omega reserves the right to review the tapes in the event that you’re later convicted of a crime,” the shrink explains. “But nailing a whore hardly makes you a terrorist, Mr. King.”

  Alex’s jaw tightens. “I don’t sleep with whores.”

  The shrink ignores that. “The merchandise is better quality on this side of the bridge, right? It’s worth the extra expense for a bit of clean snatch and some discretion.”

  “I’ve got absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, Mr. King. Don’t be naïve. You’re not her first client, and you’re not the first man to accidentally knock up his whore. Nor will you be the last.”

  Alex can barely contain his outrage. As per Omega procedure, he surrendered his weapons at the door. His handgun, the clip removed, is locked inside a clear plastic box with his handcuffs, an Omega issue hunting knife, and a canister of pepper spray.

  His eyes flick to the box, then back to the shrink. “She’s not a whore.”

  “What were you fighting about that night? You were fighting with her, weren’t you?”

  Eerily accurate.

  Alex tries to moderate his anger. “That’s none of your business.”

  “She told you she was pregnant with your bastard child and you threatened her.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “You were the father of her unborn child, weren’t you?”

  On the shrink’s desk, Alex spots a file with a caduceus emblazoned on the front.

  A hospital file.

  Alex fixes the man with a glare. “The pregnancy was stricken from her file. How did you find out about it?”

  More scribbled notes.

  “Your security clearance gives you access to the Omega Victuals and Vivisection department, doesn’t it?”

  Alex’s anger reaches a whole new peak. “Are you for real? You don’t think that I had anything to do with this?”

  “A Chimera attack
happened in the Sentinel District, Mr. King. It’s an unlikely event, to say the least. And you wouldn’t risk enforcement by killing a pregnant woman—you’re smarter than that.”

  “You think I deliberately released an infected Chimera from the lab to kill my …”

  “Your what?”

  Alex controls himself. “To kill an innocent woman.”

  “Look, Mr. King.” The shrinks sighs. “I’m not here to railroad you.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  “I only want to get to the truth.”

  Alex leans forward in his seat. “I’m sorry, is this a psych evaluation? Or a police interrogation?”

  “The emotional truth, Mr. King. That’s all I care about.”

  “Are we almost done here?”

  “The woman you were fucking was just pronounced dead, with your baby inside her, and you wanted to hitch a ride with her ‘cause you felt guilty. Isn’t that right?”

  Alex leaps to his feet and upends the coffee table, his fists clenched. A box of tissues tumbles through the air, and the tempered glass tabletop smashes upon impact with the floor.

  “Submit whatever report you want, you pernicious little shit. I’m not playing this game.”

  Alex heads for the door, but the shrink leaps up out of his chair, eager to keep him back.

  “Mr. King, wait. Your commanding officer was concerned that you might be experiencing some emotional instability in the wake of recent events—that’s why you’re here.”

  Feeling like he’s been duped, though he’s not quite sure how, Alex tries to fathom it. “Maydevine ordered this?”

  “By my records, it’s been several years since your last evaluation.”

  “I completed the mandatory program.”

  “And this is just a routine follow-up. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  Alex wags a finger in the shrink’s face. “You’ve been trying to provoke me this whole time. That’s what this little charade has been about?”

  “I’m sorry for the assault on your feelings, and for the accusations I had to make, but it was necessary to see how you’d react when I confronted you with something that’s obviously hurt you very deeply.”

  “And?” Alex seethes.

  “Ten years ago, you would’ve attacked me, not the table.”

  Alex knows that’s true, and he’s still shamed by it. “Things were different then.”

  “You’ve made a lot of progress, Mr. King. My recommendation for further treatment reflects that.”

  The shrink hands Alex a sheet of paper, and Alex practically snatches it out of his hand. Expecting to find an order for mandatory attendance of another group program, he’s shocked to find the opposite.

  He’s fit for duty.

  Further treatment required: none.

  “Your emotional response was within an acceptable range,” the shrink certifies. “Any less, and I’d worry you were suppressing your anger. Any more, and I’d call it an overreaction. Appropriate anger management is a thin line, Mr. King. Stay on it.”

  His teeth clenched, Alex stifles his frustration and the last dregs of rage. “Can I go now?”

  The shrink nods. “I hope you won’t let this ruin the rest of your day.”

  Alex slams the door shut behind him.

  On his way out of the building, he places a call to Maydevine. “What the fuck was that?”

  On the other end of the phone, Maydevine sounds tight. “We can’t talk now.”

  “You sent me there on purpose, you conniving bastard. You told that shrink to press my buttons to get me back in the program.”

  “I told him to evaluate you, that’s all. But we’re not going to have this conversation. Not now. I’ll be in touch.”

  Maydevine hangs up.

  “This is bullshit,” Alex mutters to himself.

  Back in his apartment, Silver sorts through a bag of her belongings and tries to give them a place in her new home. She neatly pairs and rolls her socks, and opens the top drawer of the dresser. All of Alex’s socks are paired, folded, and color coordinated.

  “Wow.” She pushes some of the socks aside to make room for hers. “OCD much?”

  Her reorganization of the drawer dislodges something small from its resting place in the back corner, and she reaches in to examine it.

  A small, black velvet box.

  Her heart skips a beat … or two.

  An engagement ring.

  A vintage Old World platinum band, set with three princess cut diamonds.

  At the sound of the front door, she snaps the box shut and hastily replaces it inside the drawer, quickly covering it with a pile of socks and slamming the whole thing closed.

  Alex calls to her from the other room.

  “In here,” she calls back.

  Snatching a book from the bedside table, she slips onto the bed and randomly opens it in the middle, pretending to read. She closes the book—Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment—when Alex enters the room.

  “How did it go?”

  Alex slips off his all-business jacket and tie and tosses them to one side. “I’m expecting a call from Maydevine.”

  “Did you get your badge back?”

  “I think so, but it was weird. It felt more like an interrogation than a psych evaluation.”

  “Were you sent there because of me?”

  Yes, he thinks, though not quite in the way that she imagines.

  “I don’t know.” He shakes his head.

  “Then what do you know?”

  Alex sits down on the edge of the bed beside her. “I know that Maydevine couldn’t find a pattern in any of the CV2 infections you uncovered in the Fringe District. I know that he’s hoping to find something on a laptop we recovered from your apartment.” He shrugs. “And that’s all I know.”

  “For a know-it-all, you sure don’t seem to know very much these days.” Silver smiles.

  “Yeah, tell me about it. Have you eaten?”

  “I tried ordering take out, but Jennifer McAllister is flat broke. You couldn’t have thieved a tag from a wealthy heiress instead?”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Rekindling

  Asleep in Alex’s bed, Silver, fed and warm and safe, looks peaceful and content. Sitting in a chair beneath a lamp in the corner of the room, Alex flicks through the pages of an Old World Superman comic, just happy to be near her.

  Suddenly, she leaps up in the bed, shattering the silence of the night with a cry.

  A nightmare.

  She startles Alex, who drops the comic and rushes over to her, ready to comfort or distract—whichever is necessary.

  Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he settles her and steals a quick Eskimo kiss. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

  She says nothing.

  “Silver?”

  She realizes it was just a dream, realizes that she’s okay, and realizes that almost her entire body hurts. Wincing in pain, she lies back down in the bed. “Fuck.”

  The hospital painkillers wore off hours ago, and the aspirin she found in the bathroom cabinet just isn’t doing the trick.

  Still concerned, Alex leans over her. “Do you need anything?”

  “How long have I been in bed?”

  “You fell asleep on the couch after dinner. I brought you here and tucked you in.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s not that late. Is there something you need?”

  “Yeah. Something stronger than aspirin.”

  “Sorry. It’s either that or the cat’s worming pills, but I haven’t seen you dragging your bum along the carpet so I’m not sure if those would help much.”

  Unable to laugh properly, thanks to the cracked ribs Alex gave her when he saved her life in the backseat of his car, Silver smiles.

  “If you can’t make the pain go away, why don’t you try and take my mind off it instead?”

  That’s tempting. />
  Still beautiful, though pale from her battle with the virus, Silver looks up at him from the pillow, her deep eyes drawing him in. Exploiting his peripheral vision for all it’s worth, Alex admires her breasts beneath her sheer night shirt.

  He hesitates.

  “The hospital gave me strict aftercare instructions. You’re meant to rest, and not do anything too physically exerting.”

  “That’s okay, I’ll let you do all the work.” Wink.

  He leans in closer, planting a kiss on her lips—their first kiss since their last lackluster sexual encounter in Kink Central. Fully responsive, she slides over a little, giving him room to maneuver himself onto the bed.

  He breaks the kiss. “I’m sorry I treated you like shit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That night at Kink Central. I should’ve stayed.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You remember, I—” He silences himself.

  She’s being kind.

  Her memory of that night remains untarnished, but it’s not worth remembering or recounting, or rehashing the who-did-what-wrong of it. He shouldn’t have walked out on her so carelessly. She shouldn’t have held a grudge. They both should’ve recognized the pressure each was under, and let the matter rest right there and then.

  “Never mind,” he mumbles, kissing her again.

  Pulling off his t-shirt, Silver releases the dog tags around his neck, smiling when she realizes what they are. “I thought these were lost.”

  “I was keeping them safe for you.”

  He begins to slip off the chain, returning them to their rightful place around her neck, but she stops him.

  “No, you keep them.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Silver nods, pulling him in for another kiss. While they kiss, she slips one of her legs around him and pulls him down toward her … but he pulls back.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He means that in every possible way.

  “You won’t.” Barely a whisper.

  She pulls him tight against her, his arousal reaching its peak. Despite his initial hesitation, he’s overcome and unable to resist her. Kissing her back, he lets her unbuckle his belt.

  Beep! Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp.

  On the dresser, his cell phone starts to beep and vibrate.

  “Ignore it,” Silver urges him, slipping her hand inside his jeans. “Please, ignore it.”