A good point, but one he didn't want to acknowledge. He would then have to admit the fault was his own, that he'd wasted precious minutes debating what to do.
A long-suffering sigh brushed over his ear.
That was it, just a sigh, but Solo suddenly wanted to cut out his own heart and present it to the being on a platter. Oh, how he loathed X's sighs. He could always sense the disappointment, the disapproval and the hurt, as if he were breaking a promise he'd never made. As if he were destroying something precious--something he couldn't even see!
Maybe he was. Solo's mother had raised him to be a better man than he was.
To Mary Elizabeth Judah, all life was precious and a gift from God to be treasured. Solo hadn't exactly treasured X, had he? Hadn't given back what he'd been given.
Even when Solo had been at his crankiest, Mary Elizabeth had treated him with love and kindness. She had cooked his favorite meals. She had ruffled his hair and told him how beautiful he was. She had left little notes throughout the house, positive words of encouragement. You are strong and courageous. And, You are adored. A good woman, his mother.
Maybe she had known about Solo's profession; maybe she hadn't. They'd never talked about it. Everything he'd done, he'd done for a good cause. He'd never asked questions, but then, he'd never wanted to know. He'd trusted Michael. He'd removed scum like Jecis Lukas from the streets.
But he'd grown colder over the years, hadn't he? He was not the man his mother had raised.
"Thank you," he said again, this time with more heart. "For what you did for Vika, and what you did for me."
"You're welcome," X said with a happy grin.
"Ugh. Mushy stuff," Dr. E said, never far behind. He was hunched over, as if his shoulders were too heavy to hold up. "We aren't women. Let's man this party up and kill something."
Movement at his left. Solo homed in just in time to watch Vika crawl from behind one of the trailer's huge tires. She brushed the dirt from her hands and knees as she checked the area for eavesdroppers.
"She was listening the only way she could," X said. "Through vibrations."
Her plum-colored gaze locked on Solo, and every muscle in his body tightened, clamping down on bone. The steady chatter of his companions faded as he drank her in. She wore a top and pants the same dark shade as the tire, and looked as though she'd stepped from Biker Chick Weekly--Role Play Edition. Her long, pale hair was sexily rumpled, her cheeks pink.
She stepped backward, away from him, finally disappearing around the corner.
He nearly shouted a denial. Calm. Steady. She would be back. He would tell her about her father's threat and gauge her reaction. He wouldn't ask her about the wedding. She would--
Return a few minutes later with food, causing the tension to drain from him. She had changed into white and now looked as if she'd stepped from a cloud. She'd brushed her hair, the strands glistening like molten gold. She had brushed her teeth, too. He could smell the mint of her toothpaste. She tossed a burlap sack through the bars and onto his lap, the scent of buttered toast and freshly cooked syn-sausage wafting to his nose.
She reached into a pant pocket to withdraw a rag. He waited. When she stretched out her arm to toss it through the bars, he leapt into action, scooting from the far end of the cage to the front, his own arm extending.
Contact. His fingers locked around her wrist.
She gasped. Her eyelids flipped up, and her gaze landed on him.
"Let me go," she demanded.
When the softness of her skin delighted him? When the heat she emitted blended with his own? "Or what?"
Heart-shaped lips pursed in the most adorable pout. "Or you'll lose your man parts."
Something cold pressed against his thigh, and he glanced down. She had positioned a blade at the hem of his loincloth.
X clapped at her daring.
Dr. E growled.
"Nice move," Solo said, oddly proud of her.
She sighed, a little dejected, and said, "I doubt I could actually go through with my threat. I really just carry the weapon to scare people away."
Oh, honey. That's not something you ever admit to your opponent.
As innocent as she appeared, though, her opponents could probably guess her lack of malicious intent.
He released her. "I just wanted your attention."
"Well, you've got it." She looked left, right, and sheathed the weapon. "But it's too dangerous for us to talk."
"I'll know if anyone heads this way. You'll have plenty of time to hide."
Silence as she pondered his claim.
"I promise," he said.
Another moment passed before she nodded.
"Vow it. Vow that you'll stay." He couldn't bear the thought of watching her walk away again. Not yet. "Just for a little while. As long as it's safe."
Her nose scrunched up as she said, "But I just did."
"I want the words. Please."
"Please. Wow. I don't think I've ever heard that word from another person's lips. Not without a request for freedom, that is. But okay, all right," she said. "I vow it."
He waited for any type of reaction from her, but again . . . she never gave one. Not so much as a single twitch. Were the words truly not bonding to her?
"Are you getting married?" He hadn't meant to ask--actually hated himself for asking--but there it was. He couldn't take it back. And didn't want to.
"Not if I can help it," she replied, chin lifting.
"Tell me why--"
"I'll talk about anything but that," she said.
Fury now radiated from her. Fury and more of that fear he'd noticed before, mixed with a healthy amount of desperation and resignation.
Very well. "Are you eating?" he asked. He'd felt the slenderness of her wrist, was as concerned as he was enthralled.
"Since the vow didn't include honesty, I'll say yes."
"So you aren't?"
Her shoulders sagged. "I am. A little," she admitted in that velvety voice of hers.
"Eat more." He lifted the bag she'd tossed at him. During his leap, it had fallen to the side. He dug inside and found the bread.
"I'll be okay," she said. "You need the nourishment."
He heard the hunger in her voice, and saw the way she watched the bread as though hypnotized. She'd been giving him the food from her own plate, he realized, probably not wanting to be caught grabbing extra and announce her purpose. He could barely process that information as he eased the toast to her mouth. Only his parents had ever placed his welfare above their own.
Vika shook her head, long strands of that curling gold hair dancing around her. When that failed to dissuade him, she arched backward. "You first. You're recovering from all those injuries."
"I'm more recovered than you realize."
"You're definitely stronger, and you're definitely a fast healer, but no one--"
He turned.
She gasped with amazement. "Your back."
There were a few scabs remaining, a few scars, but other than that, the skin was mended.
She reached out, traced her finger over one of the ridges. The touch electrified him, and he moaned. He . . . he . . . wanted more, wanted that finger all over him, everywhere. Just as soft, just as gentle. Just as tender.
"Well, I still want you to eat," she said somewhat shakily, as if the connection had affected her, too.
He forced himself to face her. Control. He wasn't sure how long they would be alone, and she needed to eat. He bit off a tiny piece from the corner of the bread, then once again placed it at her mouth--making sure her lips encountered the same spot as his own.
A cute little nibble, revealing the barest hint of teeth.
Such an innocent action, yet so lovely to watch.
Color bloomed all the brighter in her cheeks as she chewed, swallowed.
"Another," he commanded.
She obeyed.
He liked this, he realized. Liked feeding her and knowing he was helping her, even in so small a way. "Another."
"It's so good," she said, and claimed a much bigger bite.
"Isn't this nice?" Dr. E sneered.
Solo glanced over at him, intending to give him a dark enough look to send him fleeing in fear, but the sight of Dr. E stunned him. In a matter of seconds, the little man had lost weight, his cheeks becoming gaunt, and his pale skin more pallid than before.
"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look, shoving your gigantor hand at her tiny face? Why don't you act like a man and remove her thumb, then bust free? Huh, huh? That's what you wanted in the beginning, isn't it?"
"Don't listen to him," X said, and Solo glanced over at him. "His only purpose is to ruin your life. Tell me you've realized that by now."
Where Dr. E had wilted, X had bloomed. In a matter of seconds, he had gained muscled weight, his cheeks filling out, his skin now glowing brightly. Was Solo's happiness strengthening X the way X had strengthened him all these years? Was that same happiness weakening Dr. E? Yes, he realized a moment later. It was. And it made sense. His worry had always caused the opposite.
How strange to think he could be happy--something he'd never really experienced before, even with his beloved parents, for he'd always felt as if something important were missing from his life--while trapped in a cage. But he was.
"This girl has only brought trouble to his door," Dr. E groused. "How is using her to escape wrong?"
"Hurting someone else, no matter who they are or what they've done, just to get what you want," X replied, "is what's wrong."
"Get off your pedestal!"
"Why? The view is better."
"Shut up," Solo snapped.
"But--" Dr. E began.
"Now!"
Fear returned to Vika's plum eyes, darkening the purple to a sickly black. "If that's the way you're going to act, I'm out of here!"
"I wasn't talking to you, you have my word," he rushed out before she could take a single step. Must do better. So easily frightened, this woman, though she immediately bucked up and issued some kind of verbal attack. He liked that about her. She had courage, and though she might be knocked around, she would never stay down.
"Well, then, who were you talking to?" she demanded. "I mean, to whom were you talking?"
Like he could really answer that. "I'm sorry for startling you," he said, and placed the toast at her mouth.
She chewed, swallowed--and asked the same question again.
Would she leave if he continued to refuse? "What if I said I was talking to an invisible man?" he asked, amazed he'd admitted that much. He was at enough of a disadvantage already, and not even Michael, John, or Blue knew about Dr. E and X.
"I might believe you," she replied, and she sounded sincere.
Shocking.
And a huge relief. He was glad he hadn't tried to lie. Eventually, even the smallest mistruth would catch up to a man, a tangled web of thorns that would leave him cut and bleeding. In fact, Solo had always told his mother the truth about everything, even her cooking. Not to be cruel, but because he had respected her too much to feed her an untruth.
A small smile lifted the corners of Vika's mouth.
Just as before, the smile lit her entire face. She looked as though she'd swallowed the sun. His heart banged against his ribs, his blood heated, and oh, he fought the urge to gather her in his arms and hold her. Just hold her.
"I think you're as weird as me," she said, then took another bite of the toast and motioned to him with a tilt of her chin. "Or is the proper phrasing as weird as I am? Anyway, your turn."
"I'm embarrassed for you," Dr. E said. "You should--"
"He told you to shut up!" X climbed up Solo's ear, stomped across his head, and jumped onto his left shoulder. He grabbed the once-beautiful blond by the ear and, as Dr. E yelped, disappeared.
I owe that man a lot more than another thank-you.
And the girl, if he was being honest. Solo took a bite of the toast. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Vika."
Another smile, this one not quite as bright. "I wish I could do more."
"I don't want you to do more. I don't want you to risk yourself on my behalf again."
She blinked rapidly. "Are you trying to protect me? The girl who is not bound by shackles?"
"Yes. I vowed I would."
"And you always keep your promises, you said."
"Always."
The rest of the tension drained from her, and she said, "That is very sweet of you."
A female referring to him as "sweet." A novelty he quite enjoyed. But she hadn't promised not to risk herself, had she.
"So is your name really Solo?" she asked.
"It's Solomon, but my friends call me Solo." He should have given her the same Bob Fred alias he'd given Criss, but he liked the idea of his name spilling from those heart-shaped lips.
"And you're fine with me calling you that?"
"Yes." More than.
"Even though we're not friends?"
He nodded. A smoother man would have said something like "We are friends" or "I would love to be your friend," but the words would have sounded false coming from him. He didn't actually want to be her friend. He wanted to use her . . . he wanted to save her . . . and he wanted to have her.
She thought it over, nodded. "Very well. Solo."
Reality was far better than supposition. "About Audra," he said, and she paled. "What do you know about her tattoos?"
Her head tilted to the side, her expression resigned. "She tried to use one against you, didn't she?"
"Yes."
"Matas taught her a little about black magic. Ever since, the spiders come to life and bite whomever she desires. And oh, it's painful. Makes you sick."
"You have been bitten?"
"A few times."
Strike three, Audra. "Listen, you're in trouble. Your father suspects you're the one who's been feeding me."
Her knees buckled, and she would have collapsed if he hadn't reached out and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt to steady her. How light she was. At her strongest, she would not be a match for his weakest.
"Can't I ever avoid a break?" she asked with a tremor.
Avoid a--Wait. "You mean catch a break."
"Why would I want to catch a break? You catch a ball. You break bones, homes, and hearts. And now, I must go."
Not yet. He wasn't ready. "Free me, Vika." The only thing he'd ever begged for was the lives of his adoptive parents, and that had gotten him nowhere. Still, he might beg for this. "Let me protect you better."
Her mouth opened, closed. Once again she shook her head. "I can't."
"You can."
"No. I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head all the harder for emphasis. "And I know, I know. My refusal means you'll go back to being a rude little giant . . ."
Uh, that expression made absolutely no sense.
". . . and you'll start issuing death threats again, but I have to remain with the circus for a while longer. I just have to."
"Why? Jecis beats you. Why not leave him before he has a chance to hurt you again?"
"You don't understand. I can take a beating, I can, but if I leave before I've--just before," she said, stopping herself from admitting something she didn't want him to know, "Jecis will find me and kill me, as well as the otherworlders."
"You're his daughter." His precious. His beloved, Solo remembered, and had to grit his teeth to prevent himself from cursing. "He wouldn't kill you."
Another small smile, this one sad at the edges. "He wouldn't mean to. Wait. I take that back. Maybe he would. To Jecis, leaving the circus is the ultimate betrayal and deserves the ultimate punishment."
"But you want to?" He gripped the bars. "Leave, I mean?"
Hope glittered in her eyes, and she nodded. "I do."
His own sense of hope bloomed. "One day, this circus will be destroyed. Jecis has hurt too many people not to be hurt himself. That's a spiritual law, and spiritual laws are always enforced. The longer you stay, the more likely you are to
be caught in the crosshairs."
"One day," she parroted hollowly.
"Yes. Free me, Vika, and that day can be today. I'll take care of him. He'll never hurt you again."
Shame obliterated what remained of the hope. "I can't let you do that."
"Why not? Do you love him?" he asked.
"When he's an evil man with no goodness left inside him?"
That wasn't exactly an answer.
"No," she finally said, "but he's also my father. I can't. I just can't. And besides that, you would have to kill Matas, too. Otherwise, he would come after us and the same fate would befall us all."
Solo would happily take care of Matas.
"And then, after both men are dead, and I have no means of protection," she said, "you would leave me out there in the big, bad world to fend for myself, penniless, helpless. You wouldn't mean to, I know. I can tell you're a good man. But you have a life out there, one that doesn't include the zoo owner's daughter, and you would eventually cut me loose."
"No--"
"You would also sentence the other captives to death," she interjected. "They would be slaughtered simply to punish me."
"I would come back for them."
"Yes, but would you make it in time? No, you can't guarantee that." She turned her head away, trying to end the conversation the only way she could.
Solo latched onto her wrist, giving it the barest squeeze to bring her attention back to him. "I will leave your family alone if that's what you want." He would hand them over to Michael, and the end result would be the same, but she didn't need to know that. "I'll release the otherworlders and take you with me, and you'll never have to fend for yourself. I have money. I can take care of you for the rest of your life, if you so desire."
Her gaze searched his features. "I . . . I actually think you mean that," she said.
"I do. And I'm willing to vow it."
"Don't," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't want you morally bound or anything like that, when there's a huge problem with your plan."
"And that is?" he said, urgency riding him hard. He would have a solution, whatever it was, and she would free him. She had to free him.
"The cuffs."
"They aren't actually a problem. I have a friend who can remove them." John could remove any kind of shackles. If he's still alive. The thought irritated him. He was. And that was final.
"You'll lose your hands."
"They'll grow back."
A moment passed. She shook her head, as if his words were too odd to keep inside her head. "The real question is, can you reach your friend before Jecis finds you? And what about the other prisoners in the meantime?"