40 Souls to Keep, page 24
Jase’s gaze burned into Menghini. “Sit. Down.”
Menghini sank to the floor where he stood, crossing his legs. Nobody batted an eye. Lucas swallowed, watching Jase in his peripheral vision. The man’s power was incredible and terrifying. And for once, at least in Lucas’s experience, not the slightest hint of regret colored his tone or attitude while he wielded it.
“Now. Again. Slower this time. With more detail and less whining,” Jase told him. “What did Macy’s father do to you?”
“He stole from me,” Menghini repeated, voice ringing with frustration.
Jase frowned. “How much?”
Quivering, Menghini raised both hands into the air, imploring. “He stole from me.”
Lucas watched Jase blink, then shake his head. “He stole from you. A lot? A little?”
Menghini’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t answer. Confused, Lucas looked between the two of them. Jase had stiffened during the confrontation, leaning forward to stare at Menghini. Now he sagged back against Lucas, rubbing his temples. “Never mind,” he mumbled. “So you don’t have Macy?”
Menghini nearly gave himself whiplash denying it. “I don’t have the kid. I never did.”
“But you came after her,” Lucas pressed. “At the hospital and at the police station.”
“Yeah.” Menghini licked his lips. “Colin was supposed to get her at the hospital.”
“And Tony,” Lucas said.
“No,” Tony interrupted. “I never went near the hospital.”
Lucas shared a confused glance with Jase. Then who had the other guy been? It didn’t matter. Macy wasn’t here. She never had been.
Devastation palpable, Jase struggled to his feet. “Do you have any idea where she is or who might have her?”
Menghini shrugged. “No idea. As far as I’m concerned, my business with Pearl is finished.”
The air left Lucas’s lungs in a rush. Good thing he didn’t have Jase’s power, because nothing in the world would’ve stopped him right then from making sure Menghini got what he deserved. “You didn’t even think twice, did you?” he hissed. “Before killing them in cold blood.”
“Hey.” Menghini’s face twisted into an affronted frown. “Stop making it sound like the Apocalypse. Don’t you watch the news? The world’s a violent place. People are dying every day by the thousands. Who the hell cares about Gordon and Amanda Pearl?”
Chapter Seventeen
Colin drove them back to Tin City in a dark maroon Lincoln Town Car. By boat the journey to Menghini’s estate in Port Royal had taken ten minutes. By car, it took them twice as long, but Jase’s head appreciated the smoother ride.
Lucas stroked a finger down his cheek. “Your color looks a little better.”
His, in turn, looked gray. And he wouldn’t meet Jase’s eyes.
Jase prodded gingerly at the back of his head, wincing when his fingers came away tacky. His vision was no longer doubled, but he wouldn’t call it perfect either. Keeping his head still helped. Turning to look over his shoulder brought on a stabbing headache and nausea.
“You need a hospital,” Lucas insisted. “Naples Community is only a few minutes away. We’ll head there next.”
Jase’s fingers curled into tight fists. Lucas’s defeated tone rubbed him all wrong. He wasn’t ready to give up. “Maybe,” he hedged. “We’ll see how I feel when we get back to the car.”
“Let me clue you in to how you’ll feel.” Lucas leaned across the seat, infringing on Jase’s personal space. “You’re going to feel exactly like you do now. Like shit. You’re going to feel like you’re concussed, because you are. So you’re going to the fucking ER, whether you like it or not.”
Jase folded, the argument stealing the last of his flagging energy. This had been what he’d wanted—somebody he couldn’t push around—so there was no sense resenting it. But giving up now, with Macy still out there by herself, made him heartsick, the misery ten times worse than his physical aches. How could they have been so wrong about Menghini? Nothing added up, except that Jase was positive that if he could think about the details for a little while, it would all make sense.
He pushed himself straighter in the seat. “This isn’t done,” he said. “I’m not going to wallow in some hospital when Macy is still missing.”
Lucas slammed his fist against the Lincoln’s window. Colin jumped. His nervous eyes tracked them in the rear view mirror. “She’s gone, Jase,” Lucas said.
“I’m not giving up on her.”
Lucas’s dull eyes didn’t even flicker.
“Snap out of it,” Jase hissed, grabbing Lucas’s shirt and shaking him. “So your theory didn’t pan out. So what? Is that the only thing you got?”
“Yes!” Lucas snarled.
Relieved, Jase released him and sat back. Lucas was discouraged, but his anger was still sparking—and anger could be productive. It could be channeled, focused. And that was what they needed. Focus.
“I’m missing something,” Jase said. “Something big I can’t put my finger on, and this headache isn’t helping. Keep an open mind for me, that’s all I’m asking. You want to make a trip to the hospital? Fine. I’ll go. But promise you’ll help me work through this. I’m not giving up on Macy.”
He didn’t get a verbal answer, but Lucas nodded.
Colin wound through the small parking lot to Lucas’s car, stumbling over one apology after another until tears leaked from his eyes. Jase looked on, dispassionate, and finally Lucas put a stop to it.
“It’s okay, Colin. Really. Don’t sweat it.”
“Do you really mean that?” Colin asked.
“No,” Lucas admitted. “Just shut up, okay?”
With that tender parting, they climbed out of the cool, dim interior and squeezed into the Jetta. Lucas pulled out of the marina, tires squealing. Jase passed the trip with his head tipped back and his eyes closed; the racing scenery bothered his already touchy stomach. Before he thought possible, the car slowed, climbed a gentle incline and rolled to a stop outside the doors to the emergency room.
“Told you it was close.” Lucas unsnapped his seat belt and stayed Jase’s hand when he made to do the same. His tone had gentled. “Stay put for a minute, okay? Let me get you a wheelchair.”
Indignant, Jase shook his head, a mistake he regretted as pain lanced through his temples. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Lucas said, opening his door. “Like I said. Stay put.”
Again time bent in on itself, because Lucas had only been gone a few seconds by Jase’s count when his door opened to an orderly and a wheelchair.
“Sorry that took so long,” Lucas said, helping him out and into the chair.
“It’s okay,” Jase said, knowing he’d lost some time. “I think you’re right about that doctor.”
“Oh?” Lucas bent to eye him critically, but Jase kept the odd blackout to himself, staying silent until they reached a small curtained alcove, barely four feet wide.
“Excuse me.” Jase caught the nurse’s hand. “Could you please find us someplace a little quieter?” Some privacy would be nice, too, but he wasn’t expecting a miracle.
Lucas pinned him with an annoyed frown. “How about after you see a doctor, okay?”
So damn stubborn. “Fine,” Jase said, tempering his capitulation with, “Can we see one now, then?”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” the nurse answered. “We’re not dealing with any trauma cases at the moment, and head injuries should be evaluated immediately.”
“Excellent.”
Lucas took his arm when he levered himself out of the wheelchair, then guided him onto the bed, lingering once Jase was supine, head on the thin pillow. They didn’t add to the noisy chaos by trying to speak. Jase stared at the television, absorbing very little of what was flashing across the screen, while Lucas sat slumped in a plastic, orange chair, brooding. When he tried to slink away, Jase protested, making the plea sound as small and pathetic as he dared.
Lucas smacked his arm. “Tone down the drama. I just want to find some coffee.”
“I’ll have the nurse bring you some,” Jase said. Because if Lucas had an ulterior motive for slipping Jase’s leash—like continuing on alone—Jase wasn’t going to make it easy for him. Lucas pouted and fell back into his chair.
Despite Jase’s request, the doctor didn’t show until twenty minutes later, breezing into their curtained cubby on the heels of the admitting nurse. Between the bed, Lucas, the doctor, and the nurse with her rolling computer cart, it was cozy.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” the nurse said, and Jase shot her a pained smile.
“That’s not necessary, is it?”
And so it went, like guiding mice through a maze. Lucas contributed nothing, except his attitude.
“I’d like you to stay overnight for observation,” the doctor said after examining the lumps on Jase’s head. “And get an MRI.”
“No to the MRI,” Jase said, despite Lucas’s dark look.
“Okay. It’s just a precaution anyway,” the doctor agreed. “If your vision doesn’t clear in the next few hours, or the nausea persists, I’m going to insist though.”
The statement walked the line of disagreement, and it obviously hurt the doctor to go against Jase’s wishes. He didn’t possess Lucas’s innate ability, but he was strong-willed and obviously lived by a rigid professional ethic, enough so that his concern for his patient trumped Jase’s ability to completely control him.
“Fine,” Jase said. “Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.” That was noncommittal enough that everyone should be happy.
Except, of course, Mama Lucas.
“How about a reevaluation this evening?” Lucas asked. “And we can go forward with the MRI then if he hasn’t improved.”
“Good idea.” The doctor beamed, and Jase gave Lucas the finger.
* * *
An hour later, they were ensconced in a private room at the end of the hall on the sixth floor. Jase imagined tombs weren’t as quiet. As soon as Lucas closed the door behind the nurse, Jase’s headache backed off to a dull ache. Of course, that could have been the Toradol.
“Nighty-night,” Lucas said, waggling his fingers. “See you when the happy pills wear off.”
“Wait.” Jase tilted his head toward the bathroom. “I want a shower.”
“And I want a pony.” Lucas tucked the blankets higher. “You won’t be able to stand in a few minutes, and believe me, you won’t care how you smell.”
It was more than that. The grime and the perspiration were one thing, but the dirty feeling went deeper. The hot water wouldn’t reach that, but it would clear his mind, which Jase needed more than anything at the moment. He would’ve preferred to avoid the pain meds.
Of course, Lucas had vetoed that, then hovered until the pills were safely in Jase’s stomach. Talk about a mother hen.
“The nurse said the Toradol would take about twenty minutes to kick in,” Jase said. “Plenty of time. Please,” he added, because the more he considered it, the more he wanted it. The smell of blood clung to him like a second skin. His hair was matted with it.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“No stitches, Lucas, remember? I’m clear to get wet from head to toe. Do I have to beg?”
“What if you get dizzy?”
Jase sank back to the pillow and sighed. “Then you’ll be there to help.”
Lucas’s sleepy eyes popped open. “What?”
They’d received the grand tour when the orderly had wheeled him up from the ER. Television, telephone, bathroom, pull-cord...and Jase, for all his exasperation with the delay in getting into bed, hadn’t missed the handicapped-size shower, big enough for two. He blinked innocently. “I figured you’d want to get in too.”
He’d learned enough about Lucas by now that he expected one of two answers. Either a snarky rebuttal, with some off-color humor thrown in for good measure, or genuine exasperation.
Lucas surprised him.
“I’m not sure if I can,” he whispered harshly, shoulders slumped and hands clasped between his knees. “I can’t get her out of my head.”
That made two of them. “I’m not asking for that. I just want to be clean.” He sat up slowly, swinging his legs to the floor. “That’s all.”
His buttons refused to cooperate, and he was close to giving up when Lucas took over. His deft fingers worked them open in a few seconds, and Jase slipped the shirt off his shoulders. Immediately, the smell of blood diminished, and he felt better. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Lucas said, his honesty so plain that Jase’s mouth went dry. In the bathroom, he started the hot spray while Lucas shed his clothes.
Lucas hummed his approval at the second showerhead, got it flowing and guided Jase to the built-in seat. “Do us all a favor. Sit.”
Gingerly, Jase leaned his head against the tile and enjoyed a lazy perusal of Lucas’s naked body. What they’d shared so far hadn’t included this—intimacy that had every right to be sexual, yet wasn’t.
Lucas’s movements began methodically—wetting a cloth, unwrapping the soap—but as soon as his hands found Jase’s shoulders, that all changed. He faltered, took a deep breath. “Glad you’re okay.”
“Mmm,” was all Jase managed as Lucas began to scrub him. The scratch of the washcloth over his chest and arms lulled him, and as steam filled the space, his eyelids drooped. Then Lucas knelt in front of him, and Jase’s lethargy vanished.
Lucas’s hands danced across his stomach, dragging the sudsy cloth over each hip, then spread soap over his legs one by one. Sedated or not, Jase found himself getting aroused as Lucas lifted each of his feet and rinsed them, then rose, soapy washcloth in hand. Watching Lucas unfold himself and stand, water dripping from his hair, his fingertips and his cock, was deeply stirring. Jase’s heart stuttered, and a flush of heat coiled in his stomach.
Lucas was hard too, but when he bent to scoop Jase up and their erections brushed, nudging together, he only sighed.
He eased Jase’s head back under the spray and carded his fingers through his hair, loosening the matted blood and rinsing his scalp clean. “Am I hurting you?”
Jase had never felt better. “No,” he slurred, voice thick—okay, maybe the drugs were starting to do their magic. “Feels amazing.”
“Yeah?” Finally, a touch of humor trickled into Lucas’s voice.
“Amazing,” Jase repeated. Testing, he tilted his hips forward. Lucas answered with a deep groan, and the washcloth hit the floor with a splat.
“Stop.”
“I think you just say that word because you know how much I like it,” Jase said, feeling drunker by the second.
“You want me to act contrary?” Lucas licked the shell of his ear. “Because it’s actually my greatest talent.”
What Jase wanted was too corny to verbalize; even high as a kite he knew that. Instead of answering, he slipped his arms around Lucas’s waist and set his chin on his shoulder. “Getting sleepy.”
“I figured,” Lucas said with only a trace of exasperation. “Come on. Time for bed.”
The air outside the bathroom was arctic and cleared the steam and other fog from Jase’s head, even though his body felt warm and heavy. He fell onto the bed, shrugging into the hospital gown Lucas held up.
Through sleepy eyes, he watched Lucas find his underwear, then looked on fondly as it took him three tries to get them on correctly. Lucas might as well have been drugged himself, as exhausted as he looked. “Come here,” Jase said, patting the mattress. “You’re not sleeping in that chair.”
Lucas pulled his jeans over his hips, hooked the offending orange chair with his foot and melted into it. “The hell I’m not,” he mumbled, massaging his temples. “Go to sleep.”
Every once in a while, it would have been nice to tell Lucas to do something and have him actually do it. “Sleep with me,” Jase said, yawning. A low drone had started in his ears, and a delicious warmth was spreading across his chest and down his legs. At this rate he’d be under in two minutes. Jase played his last card: he smiled. “Please.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Lucas lifted the blankets and slid in. “Oh, God,” he moaned, “you have the best ideas.”
“Feeling better?”
Lucas’s discouraged silence was answer enough. Even so, his soft kiss to Jase’s cheek proved he was coming around. Jase felt confident he could close his eyes, sleep, and find Lucas by his side, optimism restored, when he woke.
Lucas shifted so they were facing each other and draped his arm over Jase’s hip. Being physically close soothed some of the pain. So did watching Lucas’s pulse beat steadily at his throat.
His tattoo bothered him, the ink sizzling beneath his skin, and Jase rubbed it. Was the pain a reminder of his mistake? Maybe Macy was dead. What did he know about how all this worked? Only what Philip had told him, and they hadn’t had time to get into the nitty-gritty. Maybe he had failed. Maybe his punishment was to never know why.
Always be prepared, Philip had warned. Events can turn on a dime. Well, Jase would have to hope they turned again, and soon. He let the puzzle of Macy Pearl carry him into sleep, snuggling closer to Lucas once the other man’s breathing turned deep and even.
* * *
He endured the nurse’s frequent poking, which felt constant but, Jase understood, happened no more than once an hour. Sleepily, he recited his name and the date each time she woke him, groaning in relief when sometime in the early evening she said she’d reduce the frequency of her torture to once every two hours.
The doctor stopped by as promised, tripping over his feet when he found Lucas curled into Jase’s side, arm slung over his waist. Unwilling to rouse Lucas, or himself, Jase sent him away as kindly as he could and drifted back to sleep.
