| |
––––––––
It was long past visiting hours. The nurse had made her rounds a few moments before Viper slipped, unseen, into the silent room. She stood motionless, staring down at the battered body of John Smithe. A white bandage was wrapped around his head, and several abrasions, cuts and bruises on his face and neck left his skin tone looking more rainbow-inspired than flesh-colored. A breathing tube was inserted down his throat, taped into place at the side of his mouth with sheer tape, while IV lines ran from his arm to two separate bags holding clear fluids. John was hooked up to two different monitors and Alina watched his steady heart rate absently as she reached out to touch his hand. It was unresponsive, but she hadn't expected anything else. Deep in an induced coma, she knew he wouldn't respond to anything until his body healed enough to allow him to regain consciousness, if at all. According to Stephanie, the doctors were less optimistic this afternoon.
She lowered her eyes from the heart monitor, returning them to his face as her fingers closed around his gently. Viper had seen her share of the dead and dying, and she fought the hollow feeling threatening to consume her at the absolute stillness of his face. Staring down at her hand closed around his, she sighed silently. His hand was limp, but warm. Raising her eyes, she glanced at the monitors again. The constant beeping was oddly reassuring. Perhaps there was still hope.
Pulling her hand away, Alina sank into a chair next to the bed. She stared at her past, lying unresponsive before her, and something deep inside her twisted painfully.
It wasn't supposed to be this way!!
She wasn't supposed to be the one sitting at the bedside, willing him to live. She wasn't even supposed to be here! If someone told her two years ago, while she was on a self-imposed sabbatical in the mountains of South America, that one day she would be sitting at John's bedside in the ICU, she would have said they were delusional. Yet, here she was, and there was John.
Viper's lips tightened grimly. Saturday night at Dutch's bonfire, she was reminded of how much she used to love John, something she made herself forget over the years. That love was gone now, and in its place was something far more alarming to her: the memory of what might have been, and what now could never be. The deep, unshakable knowledge of someone she would never get away from stayed with her. No matter where she went or what she did, no matter how far she ran, Alina knew she would never be completely rid of John. He was in her soul. He helped shape the woman she was now, both good and bad.
A wave of angry panic welled up from depths inside her and her fingers curled into fists. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! It was supposed to be her who went first!
All the fighting, all the hunting, all the killing was so that her friends and family could live long and healthy lives in freedom. She sacrificed herself, and her very humanity, in an ongoing attempt to keep America free and safe. It wasn't supposed to be John fighting for his life, just as it wasn't supposed to be Angela who got shot last year. They were supposed to be living happy, normal lives with their happy, normal jobs in their happy, normal homes.
Not lying in the ICU, clinging to the tenuous bonds of life, supported by a cocktail of chemicals and machines.
Alina shook her head, picturing the Firebird spinning out of control and flipping into the tree. He had it under control! What the hell went wrong?
Slowly, without thinking or even being really conscious of her actions, she pulled her legs up onto the chair and arranged herself in lotus pose comfortably. Resting her hands on her thighs, palms up, she took a deep breath and allowed her eyes to slide shut. She concentrated on her breathing, centering herself, until her mind relaxed. Images began chasing themselves through her mind and Viper calmly sorted through until she found the one she wanted. Bringing it back into her conscious mind, Viper separated herself from the memory and watched dispassionately as the black Firebird hurtled through the night, neck and neck with the other car. She watched as the deer darted out into the road, gleaming large and white in the glare from the headlights. Breathing deeply, she slowed the memory down, forcing her mind to relax even more. Her breathing slowed as Viper began to recall the images she was unable to process at the time.
She watched, detached, as the Firebird braked, controlled by an experienced driver. She watched as it slowed rapidly, still held under rigid control. Then, she watched as an orange spark glinted briefly in the darkness of the wheel well facing her. Immediately, the front right tire blew apart. With the blowout, the car spun out of control.
Awareness returned to Viper slowly, and the quiet, steady beeping from the monitors roused her back to the present. She opened her eyes and looked at John, still and silent in the bed. In one fluid motion, Viper was out of the chair and heading for the door.
The panic and deep sense of impending loss were gone, and in their place were burning flames of revenge.
Viper strode along the sidewalk to the parking garage connected to the hospital, her lips pressed together grimly. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her black jacket as a brisk, Nor'Eastern wind whipped the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face. Even with her head bent against the bitter wind, Viper was fully aware of her surroundings. A pair of male nurses crossed the road behind her, hurrying to the hospital. An ambulance swung into the ER driveway at the end of the building behind her, lights and siren blaring as emergency personnel rushed out of the sliding doors of the hospital. Across the road, a group of teenagers traded teasing insults loudly with each other. Ahead was the parking garage, quiet this time of night. The sidewalk was well lit and there was nowhere for anyone to hide as Viper strode up to the entrance and entered the garage. She had driven the Jeep into Camden and parked it on the ground level. That in itself was unusual. Habit born from painful experience led her to avoid parking on the ground floor of a parking garage. It was too exposed and too easy for enemies to find the vehicle. However, when she arrived an hour before, Alina swung into a secluded spot in a back corner at ground level before she could think twice. Now, crossing into that section of the parking garage, Viper shook her head in self-reprimand. What on earth had induced her to be so reckless?
The heels of her boots echoed in the garage and out of the corner of her eye, Alina caught sight of shadows moving near a shiny black Cadillac Escalade with blinding chrome and spinning rims. Four large young men emerged, watching her as she crossed the tarmac, passing on the other side of the wide aisle.
“Diablo! Mira las piernas de esa puta!”
Viper's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips tightening.
“Oh, estoy mirando. Estoy mirando a mucho más que eso!”
Their laughter echoed through the deserted garage as they moved out from between the vehicles, their attention focused on Alina. The isolated shadows of the parking garage suddenly seemed to multiply, presenting any number of secluded spots. The cameras in the corners were non-functional, as Viper well knew, and the garage was deserted. Any other woman would turn and head back the way she came, running for the safety of the hospital. Knowing this, the four split into two pairs, one circling around to cut off escape back to the street and safety.
“Ahi mucho que mirar,” the first one agreed, his eyes sweeping over her with a look meant to fill Alina with terror. “Ahi se me esta poniendo duro.”
“Nosotrus puedemos arreglar eso,” the second replied, closing in on Alina.
“Hey baby girl, why you look so sad?” he demanded, switching to English and stepping directly in front of her, blocking her path.
Viper raised her eyes to his.
“Yo no soy tu bebé,” she said softly in Spanish.
The man's eyes widened briefly in surprise and there was a beat of silence before laughter erupted behind her.
“Damn, Rico, you think you're so slick,” one chortled with a snort. “She understood every word!”
Viper used the seconds of their distraction to take stock of the immediate opponent facing her. He stood about 6 foot and weighed around 200 pounds, mainly muscle. He was the largest of the four, and the one with most interesting artwork tattooed on his body. Two black tear drops rested permanently below his left eye, and the ink across the front of his throat told her which gang he called family.
“Then she knows what to look forward to,” Rico retorted, his eyes locking onto hers. They were cold, filled with cruel promise and something else: the assurance of a man who had done this many, many times before. Pulling her hands out of her pockets, Viper met his gaze unflinchingly.
“I think she's looking forward to it,” a voice spoke directly behind her.
Viper felt a solid presence behind her and knew if she leaned back, she would be in the arms of one of the cohorts.
“You have no idea,” she murmured, her eyes glinting.
Rico moved close to tower over her, looking down into her face, his eyes inches from hers. He raised a hand to run a finger down her cheek. The tip of his finger touched her, and Viper smiled.
The sudden look of alarm in Rico's eyes was short-lived. Before he could snatch his hand back, Viper captured his wrist with the fingers of her left hand. A quick twist and a howl of pain ripped from Rico as his wrist audibly snapped. Stepping swiftly to the left, Viper brought her right hand up and reached behind her. She made contact with the back of a head and pulled it forward, smashing it into Rico's. A second howl of pain echoed the first as two noses crunched together, hard. Without releasing Rico's broken wrist, Viper pushed the second man into the other two and spun Rico around by his limp arm. Wrenching it back and up behind him, she pulled until the bone snapped, the sickening sound echoing through the air. Rico doubled over in pain, letting out another howl, and Viper leveled her elbow down onto his temple. The howl was cut short and Rico fell to the ground onto his face, out cold.
Spinning, Viper faced the remaining three thugs. It had all happened so fast that the one she head-butted into Rico was still reeling from the blow while the other two stared at her in bemusement. One began to wisely back away, but the other grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Where you think you're going?” he snapped. “You think a dumb bitch gonna take us?”
Viper considered them assessingly, her lips twitching despite herself. The one she hit Rico with was struggling to stand straight, trying to focus on her through the tears from his broken nose. The second one was holding tight to the arm of the one who had tried to back away, while that one was staring at the ground, refusing to look at her. Lacking any visible tattoos to match the others, Viper guessed he was in the induction phase of gang membership. There was still hope for him. He was the weakest link, the least threat. Anger was beginning to block the pain from the broken nose of his friend, however, and Viper returned her attention to him.
“And what do they call you?” she asked conversationally in Spanish, pushing up the sleeves of her jacket casually. “José?”
“Why? You wanna know whose name you gonna be screaming?”
“Oh Papi, I don't scream,” Viper answered simply, beckoning him forward with an inviting wiggle of her fingers, “but you will.”
“You will tonight!” he promised, moving forward.
Viper waited until he was upon her before she grabbed his wrist. Using his own momentum against him, she swung him around and slammed him into a cement support. To his credit, he turned his shoulders at the last second and ended up bouncing off the circular island with only a grunt of pain as his left shoulder connected with the cement. He swung towards her and raised his hand to backhand her across the face. Catching his hand in hers, Viper pushed it down effortlessly and landed a solid left into his gut. He grunted and doubled over as the air was forced out of his body and Viper followed up relentlessly with her infamous right-hook. Surprisingly, instead of going down as most did, he absorbed the blow and straightened up to face her, new respect dawning in his eyes.
“You're a fighter,” he murmured, spitting out blood onto the tarmac.
“So are you,” she acknowledged, raising her hands into position. “This will be fun.”
Any confidence he may have felt with her first statement was erased with the second. A flash of uncertainty crossed his face as his hands came up to protect his head from what would have been a stunning blow to the side with her fist. He tried to counter, but found himself on the defensive once again as her other fist came from the side and caught him on the jaw. His head snapped back, but he held his ground and swung. He made contact with her shoulder, but it was very brief as she grabbed his wrist and turned into him. Before he knew what was happening, she flipped him over her shoulder, never releasing his arm. He hit the cement floor hard, his arm snapping out of its socket before she released it. The air was forced out of him in a great gasp and stars swam above his head before a black boot flashed into his peripheral vision. Blackness overtook him as the toe of that boot was the last thing he saw.
Viper looked up at the remaining two youths facing her. The taller one had finally released his companions' arm and he advanced on her, pulling something out of his pocket. Her eyes dropped to an oblong handle and a blade snapped out, gleaming in the fluorescent lighting from above.
“What is that?” she asked, momentarily diverted.
“It's a knife, you dumb bitch! And it's gonna cut you up.”
“I don't think so,” Viper murmured in amusement. She reached down swiftly and pulled something out of her boot. Skillfully, she flipped her military combat knife and watched as both remaining antagonists stared at the large, deadly serrated blade speechlessly. “Now this,” she continued conversationally, “this is a knife.”
He growled and lunged at her, aiming for her stomach. Viper shook her head in faint disgust and blocked his arm. Her fingers unerringly found the pressure point in his wrist and his hand instantly went limp, the knife clattering to the ground. Before the blade hit the cement, her boot made solid contact with the inside of his right knee, kicking his leg sideways to an impossible angle as her serrated blade slid into his side. The sound of bone cracking was loud and he let out a scream of pain as he fell to his left knee. The sound ended abruptly when her fingers dug into his throat, cutting off his air passage and collapsing his esophagus. When he doubled over, gasping for breath, his head met her driving knee. Viper pulled her knife out of him as he sank to the ground silently, darkness overtaking him.
Turning her head, she looked at the weakest link.
“Run,” she whispered.
He didn't need to be told twice. He took off toward the entrance to the garage, disappearing through the door seconds later as Viper wiped her knife on one of the fallen attackers before tucking it back into her holster at her ankle.
Turning, she stepped over Rico's inanimate form and continued on her way, crossing the aisle to head toward the back corner. Her stride checked suddenly as a tall figure moved out from behind a white service van, clapping his hands softly.
Alina's heart surged into her throat and her stomach fluttered as her eyes swept over the six foot, two inch solidly muscled man walking towards her. His dark hair was longer than when she last saw him, brushing the tops of his wide shoulders, but his eyes were still the startling blue that looked right through Viper to the woman beneath.
“Hawk,” she breathed, the name a mere breath on the breeze.
Damon Miles' lips curved faintly, his eyes meeting hers as he stopped before her. All at once, Alina felt re-energized, her heart beating a rapid rhythm in her chest as her breath caught in her throat. She always had this reaction when coming face to face with Hawk unexpectedly, but it seemed more intense than she remembered. Every nerve ending in her being was tingling with the sudden warmth that glinted in those deep, bottomless blue eyes.
“One minute, twenty-four seconds,” he said, his deep voice rolling over her like warm silk. “Not too shabby for wearing heels.”
Viper chuckled and they both glanced down at her four-inch block-heeled boots.
“And I took time for conversation,” she agreed, looking back up into his handsome face.
“Yes you did,” he agreed, his eyes warm.
“It's good to see you,” Alina told him softly.
His lips curved again and Damon lifted his hand to trail the back of his knuckles along her jawline.
“It's good to see you too,” he replied just as softly.
He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers in a feather light kiss that left her heart pounding and her blood rushing in her ears.
“You could have jumped in and helped a girl out, you know,” she said, watching through her lashes as he straightened up and turned to fall into step beside her, his arm settling comfortably around her waist.
“And get in the way of your right-hook? Not a chance,” he retorted. “Besides, you look like you needed the exercise.”
“Meaning?” Viper demanded, stopping and pulling away from the circle of his arm.
“Meaning you looked like you needed to let off some steam,” he exclaimed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
Viper laughed ruefully before turning to continue toward the back corner.
“You're probably right,” she admitted. Hawk glanced at her sharply but kept his silence. “When did you get in?”
“Earlier today,” he answered readily.
“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, shooting him a sharp look.
“How do I ever know how to find you?”
Alina chuckled reluctantly.
“Fair enough,” she murmured. Her black Rubicon came into view, tucked in the far corner behind a wide, circular cement support pillar. “Do you need a ride or did you bring your own?”
“I brought my own.”
Alina nodded and pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket. Stopping at the driver's door, she glanced up into Damon's face.
“Do you have somewhere to be or are you following me?”
“I have somewhere to be,” Damon murmured, a smile flirting his lips, “but I'll catch up with you later.”
Alina met his gaze and smiled despite herself.
“Am I going to enjoy it?” she asked.
The look on Hawk's face was downright wicked as he winked.
“You can count on it.”