Now, standing outside of the van serving as their command post, Myk didn’t even feel the December cold. What he did feel was helpless and powerless, not something the CEO of Chandler Works was accustomed to. He was accustomed to being in control, on top, alpha male. At that moment, he was just a man being torn apart. The prospect of not ever seeing her again was one of the bleakest he’d ever had to contemplate. He had to find her; he needed to tell her how much he loved her, and he did love her, he realized, deeply, completely. Nothing in life would be the same if she was removed from his world, so Myk focused himself inward and began to pray.
While Myk was seeking strength and hope Walter was inside the van monitoring police dispatches on the radio scanner. When he heard a call for a mobile unit to investigate reports of gunfire, he listened intently. He quickly wrote down the address, then went over to the laptop and punched in the numbers. The address came up within the phone company’s grid. He knew reports of gunfire were twenty-four/seven in an urban environment like Detroit, and maybe this particular incident had nothing to do with Sarita at all, but Walter went to the door and hollered for Myk and the others just the same.
“So,” Nelson purred malevolently. “Did you two bond while I was away?”
For all of his smugness, Clark didn’t look well. There was a paleness beneath his color that hadn’t been there before Faye’s shooting.
When neither of the women answered, Nelson asked, “Rats got your tongues?” He laughed at his own wit.
The women did not.
Still chuckling, he said. “Okay, enough silliness, how about we get back to the diamonds, Mrs. Chandler? We’ve a plane to catch in a few hours, and I’d like for us to be friends when the time comes. The only way we can do that is for you to tell me the truth.”
“Where are we going?” Faye asked warily.
“You aren’t going anywhere, remember?” His eyes blazed. “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you in a while. Right now, it’s Mrs. Chandler’s turn.”
Sarita met his eyes but didn’t back down.
Clark asked her, “Did your husband tell you how he and I met?”
“No, but he did say you went to prison for raping a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“The little bitch deserved it, and your husband didn’t do a damn thing to help me.”
Clark pointed to his withered leg. “See this. He’s responsible. Bastard. If he had helped me, I never would have had worms under my skin, or had to cut my leg open to get the damn things out.”
Sarita and Faye stared at each other.
Clark saw their confusion, and said, “Ever heard of the bot fly, ladies?”
Neither had.
“It’s a tropical insect. The larvae need a warm-blooded host, so the bot fly captures mosquitoes and places its eggs on the mosquitoes’ legs. When the mosquito bites, the eggs fall into the wound, and the larvae form beneath the skin. They soon grow little hooks to anchor them to the flesh, and they eat at you as they grow.”
Sarita shuddered.
Clark told them, “I thought I had a simple insect bite at first, but the spots kept getting larger and larger and the pain getting worse and worse. The warden wouldn’t let me see a doctor. So you know what I did?”
Neither answered.
“I did the only thing I knew to do. I took a knife and cut one open.”
He asked them, “Ever had to cut into your own flesh and have a living breathing organism ooze out of your skin like a night crawler wriggling out of a hole?”
Sarita closed her eyes and bile rose in her throat.
“It made me sick to my stomach, too, so I had to wait a few days before I could take care of the other two bites, but I did it,” he said proudly. “I thought I was home free until my leg got so infected and made me so delirious with fever the warden had to send me to the hospital. Two weeks and two operations later, this is the leg I was left with.”
Not a pretty story, Sarita said to herself, but she had no plans to offer him sympathy.
He told Sarita, “Chandler owes me. If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be crippled. What better revenge than to have his wife stretched out beneath me night after night after night.”
A cold fear crept over her, but she hid it beneath the contempt on her face.
“Now,” Nelson said, returning to the matter at hand, “how did Fletcher know Fishbein had my diamonds?”
The sound of glass breaking interrupted the proceedings. Nelson head’s swung around like a reptile’s. The guards raised their guns, and their eyes began roaming the room.
Nelson said to one, “Go see what that is.”
Before the man could move, the lights went out.
In the dark, Sarita didn’t know what was happening, but since it didn’t appear to be anything Nelson had planned, she hoped it was scaring the hell out of him. It was certainly scaring her.
“Find a flashlight!” she heard Nelson snap. He sounded rattled.
“Where?” one of the thugs asked. He didn’t sound real confident either. Sarita wondered if he might be remembering the rats.
“Go look in the limo,” Nelson ordered. “Try the glove box.”
“Okay.”
Although there was a bit of light coming in off the street through the window, it wasn’t enough to do anything but lighten the shadows. Sarita looked around and wondered if something was happening downstairs. Windows certainly didn’t break on their own. Was it related to the lights going out, or just a fluke, like a dead fuse, or a power outage?
In the half dark, minutes passed, but Nelson’s man didn’t return. The other guard asked, “You want me to go look for him?”
“Yes. Leave me the gun, though.”
The henchman hesitated. Sarita couldn’t see Miami Orange’s face clearly, but by the nervous way he kept looking around, it was plain he wanted the gun for his own protection.
Nelson snapped, “Give me the damn gun and go see what’s keeping Terrell.”
Miami Orange finally handed over the weapon and went off to find his missing partner.
He came back only a few minute later, saying nervously, “The glass is broke out of the window downstairs, and the screen’s gone.”
Sarita felt hope rise for the first time. She could feel Faye straighten, too.
“Did you see Terrell?”
“No. When I saw the broken window I came right back here.”
Sarita wondered what Nelson would do now? Broken windows, lights out. Something was going on. It didn’t take him long to make a decision.
“Cut them free. We’re getting out of here.”
The thug hustled over and quickly began using his switchblade on the ropes. Sarita had learned a lot about self-defense in Fukiya’s martial-arts class. The kneeling man was perfectly positioned to get the crap kicked out of him, but she doubted her feet would obey her after being tied up all afternoon. There was also the small problem of the gun in Nelson’s lap, so she sat quietly instead.
With the ropes gone, Sarita could feel the stinging in her ankles and her arms signaling the return of normal circulation.
“Let’s go,” Nelson commanded, looking around suspiciously.
Sarita groused, “At least give us a minute to get the feeling back in our feet.”
“We ain’t got time for that,” Miami Orange told her. He dragged her up and pushed her forward. Her dead feet weren’t ready; she stumbled and fell. Her wrist took the brunt of the fall, and she winced sharply. Lying there she thought she caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows off to her right. She quickly looked away to keep from drawing Nelson’s attention.
“Get up!” Nelson barked. He quickly rolled the chair over.
“My wrist is broken!” she snapped, and from the pain radiating up her arm, she was pretty sure it was true.
Miami Orange suddenly grabbed his neck. “Ow! Something just bit me!” He pulled his hand away and looked down at his palm. “A dart?”
For a moment, they were all so stunned
no one moved, then their eyes widened as he crumpled like a wet sheet to the floor.
Sarita wanted to cheer, but Nelson raised the gun and began firing indiscriminately into the shadows. Sarita hugged the floor while bullets exploded and ricocheted over her head. Then came silence.
Nelson yelled, “Show yourself, or I’ll kill them both!”
Sarita saw that Faye was on the floor as well.
When no one answered, Nelson said to Faye and Sarita, “Get up. Let’s go!”
Sarita’s wrist was screaming, and she didn’t want to go anywhere; but he was up out of the wheelchair, one hand leaning on the cane, the other holding the gun.
“Out the door and around to the steps. Slowly now!”
Sarita could see how much it was costing him physically to have to move under his own power. He didn’t look steady at all on the cane, and his breathing was loud and labored, but he had the gun. She wanted to run so badly, but she didn’t want to get shot in the back.
With that in mind, Sarita walked with Faye, slowly, staying no more than a foot or so front of him. They moved out of the room and out onto the catwalk that circled around to the stairs. Because they were ahead of him, they reached the catwalk a few steps ahead of him. In that breath of a second, Sarita could see the dark outlines of figures moving around. Sarita didn’t know whether the persons were friend or foe, but from the surprise in Faye’s eyes when she looked at Sarita, Sarita surmised Faye had seen them, too. They kept walking.
Myk and his people were kneeling in the darkness on the main floor. When he saw Sarita and Faye come out onto the metal catwalk, his heart filled with joy. She’s alive! He raised his hand for his men not to fire, the ladies were too close to Nelson, and Myk didn’t want them hit in a cross fire.
Clark limped slowly behind them, the pain in his leg like fire. The doctor he’d seen earlier that day had extracted the bullet successfully, but he’d advised Clark to stay off the leg for a few days. Clark didn’t have that luxury though. He had to get the women out of there, take care of them, then fly back to Chicago to heal up.
Clark was so focused on his pain and on keeping the women in his sight, he didn’t see the men downstairs until it was too late.
Suddenly he was in a spotlight.
“Put down your weapon, Nelson!”
Chandler.
Clark yelled at the women. “Stop right there!” Adrenaline pumping, he looked around wildly for a way out. “Stop dammit!”
With Mykal so close there was no way Sarita was going to let this monster have her again, so she grabbed Faye’s hand and screamed, “Run!”
Nelson could see they were trying to get away, taking with them the info on his diamonds and his chance for revenge on Chandler. Furious, he bellowed, “Nooo!” and opened fire on them, then turned the gun quickly on the figures downstairs, forcing them to dive for cover.
Heart pumping, her wrist throbbing, Sarita ran; Faye ran. Bullets flew around them like a deadly hail. They made it to the stairs and thought they were home free when Sarita felt her back explode. Filled with more pain than she’d ever felt in her life, she pitched forward and slowly tumbled down the stairs.
“Sarita!” Myk screamed in anguish. Not caring about his own safety, he started running.
Up on the catwalk, Clark had drawn himself back around the corner, out of the line of fire, and as he caught his breath, allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. He hoped she was dead. Chandler deserved no less. Clark thought he heard a noise behind him, and he turned, intending to blast away, but stopped at the sight of the oddly dressed man facing him. He was totally shrouded in gray—hooded, masked. The only part of his body visible were his eyes, and in those eyes, even in the dark, Clark saw death. Panicked, he raised his gun again, but it was too late. Two short knives whistled across the distance. One caught Clark in the shoulder and the second one in the heart. The twin forces staggered him backward out onto the catwalk. Lit by the spotlight, he hit the rail and went over. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Nineteen
Myk stood outside the operating room in clothes still covered with his wife’s blood. Back at the warehouse, when he’d reached her at the bottom of the steps, she was lying so still he’d refused to wait for the ambulance. Instead, he’d gently scooped her up and held her in his arms while Walter drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital. Myk carried her into the ER demanding help. The doctors rushed to prep her for surgery, and Myk had followed, ignoring the staff’s demand that he wait in the lobby.
The surgery had been going on for six hours. Drake had come out of the OR an hour or so ago to let Myk know that although Sarita was in serious condition, her vitals were strong. Drake was confident that between Sarita’s inner strength and the skilled surgeons attending her, she would make it; but Myk wouldn’t be convinced until he saw her smile again.
Saint was also keeping vigil outside the operating room. Walter, Shirley, and Silas were anxiously waiting downstairs.
Saint looked at his big brother, and said, “Sorry I was such a jerk.”
“No problem.”
“She wouldn’t want us fighting.”
“No she wouldn’t.”
Myk looked back at Saint. “You were right though. I didn’t keep her safe.”
“Wasn’t your fault. I know you think you created the world, but this was beyond even you. Had we known about Nelson earlier, maybe things would have turned out differently.”
“If she dies…”
Saint met Myk’s eyes. “You love her, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“I love her, too. Have since the day her grandmother brought me home to live with them. Sarie was nine. I thought she was the prettiest and toughest girl I’d ever seen. Still do.”
Myk studied his brother.
Saint said, “But she doesn’t love me like that. I’m her brother. She’s chosen you, so I have to respect that.”
Myk now understood. “Truce, then?”
“Yeah. I just want her to be happy.”
Myk smiled. “Me too.”
Silence settled as they resumed their vigil.
A groggy Sarita awakened to a body that was hooked up to tubes and monitors, and hurt like hell whenever she tried to move so much as a toe. Pain etched her face as she looked around. She spied a sleeping Myk sprawled in a chair. His clothes were wrinkled and creased. His beard had grown out on his cheeks, and he was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. She smiled and drifted back to sleep.
Four days later, she was out of the woods. Her broken wrist would be in a cast for another six weeks, and she was still being closely monitored by her nurses, Drake, and her surgeon.
Myk was her first official visitor even though she knew from Drake and the nurses that he’d not left her side since the night he brought her in. When he walked in carrying what appeared to be fifty dozen roses, she laughed, then stopped because it hurt.
He came over and gave her a solemn kiss on the forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot, but other than that—”
Myk was pleased to know she was turning back into her old spirited self.
He put the roses on the windowsill and pulled up a chair. “Just so you’ll know, the roses came from every florist on the eastside.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“I’m saving the ones I ordered from Spain until you come home.”
She shook her head, then asked, “How are you?”
“Now that you’re better, so am I.”
“Drake told me you had the hospital in an uproar when you brought me in—yelling, threatening, ordering the doctors around.”
“They weren’t moving fast enough for me.”
And they weren’t. Holding her in his arms while her life’s blood soaked through his jacket, all he could think about was how much he loved her and how deathly still she’d been. He never wanted to go through something like that again.
She wanted to touch his
cheek, but her physical limitations made that impossible for now. “So what happened with Faye? Did I tell you she shot Big Tiny and plugged Nelson in the leg? She should be on somebody’s SWAT team.”
“She told me about it, and the rats.”
Sarita shuddered. “The rats were awful, but she had Nelson screaming like Fay Wray in King Kong.”
Myk smiled. “We all underestimated Faye.”
“Especially Nelson.” Sarita then said, sadly, “Crane raped her and beat her up. That’s why she killed him.”
“I know. The police aren’t pressing charges. She’s going home to Virginia. I doubt she’ll ever come back here.”
Sarita and Faye might have started off at odds, but Sarita wished Faye well. “So do you think Kerry actually killed Nelson?”
Myk shrugged. “No one saw anything before Nelson took his plunge. The FBI lab is analyzing the knives. So far all they know is that the wood is Asian.”
She thought about her run to the stairs that night and realized she could be dead and how thankful she was to be alive. “Drake said they took four bullets out of my back.”
“Yep. The surgeon said you were lucky your spinal column wasn’t severed or that there wasn’t more internal damage.”
“I feel like a put-back-together Humpty-Dumpty.”
“But it’s over now, no more Nelson or Big Tiny, or hiding out. You can have your life back. And my lawyers can dissolve our agreement as soon as you want.”
Sarita stared at him. “What do you mean?”
It was the hardest thing Myk ever had to do in his life. “I don’t want you hurt again, Sarita.” Giving her up was the wise thing to do. There were going to be more Nelsons and Cranes in his NIA life, and he didn’t want her to be a target. He loved her too much.
“But you just said it was all over.”
“The part with Nelson is over, but—”
Sarita understood. “But the other stuff you’re mixed up in isn’t.”
“No.”
She shook her head and sighed sadly; she was too tired to have this conversation. “Did it ever occur to you, Your Majesty, that I might want to have a say in this?”