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Dante sat in Big Jim’s tiny space, sure he’d lose his mind at any second. The remnants of a pizza sat on the small dining table. He clutched a beer in his palm. Only his second of the evening, it did nothing to calm the grip of fear clenching his insides.
“Sorry, I don’t have a television.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dante said. “I appreciate the company.” He drained the last of the ale into his mouth, using the time to search for a topic. “So, tell me what it was like to work with a prince.”
“Mosi was a good guy, a gentleman. When he came to work at Beskerming, we never knew he was a prince. He gave a fake name. I mean, we weren’t stupid. He and his family were always in the media. But when he showed up, he dressed plainly, wore a hat and spoke with humility. He didn’t put on regal airs. And he had a way with the animals. That spoke volumes. Then when he saw Kennedy, he was smitten.”
Dante bit his lip. Wrong topic. “Uh huh. Well, how could he not?”
“It never would have worked,” Jim added. “The queen wouldn’t have allowed it. If they’d married, she would have had the marriage annulled immediately.”
“Kennedy mentioned the Queen's dislike of her,” Dante said.
Jim nodded. “Mosi would have had to choose between his entire life and his love. As much as he loved her, I think he would have let her go for the sake of his family obligations.”
“That would have crushed her.”
“Yes. Everything seemed to weigh on Kennedy at one point. She was broken for a while. I’m proud of how far she’s come.”
Stirrings of pride tickled Dante’s heart, too, and he only knew hearsay. “She’s a remarkable person. I’ve never met anyone braver or more determined to change. So,” he began, a churlish thought escaping from his throat. “Was he good looking?”
“Mosi?” Jim’s face crinkled. “I’m not into guys. I suppose so.”
Dante nodded, his face flaming, uncertain why he asked that stupid question. He scanned for some other topic. “How’d you get her into rehab?”
“She went willingly. She’d fallen far. Utterly ashamed of herself and her behavior. All I had to do was nudge.” Jim sipped at a cup of mint tea. “We’d come to the States and got this gig here. She didn’t have access to all the drugs she got over there. Iniko got them for her. Over here it was only the drink. And it interfered with her work. She’s passionate about the tigers. I credit her love for them with saving her life, not me. Like I said, all I did was nudge.”
Dante’s heart soared. “She’s amazing. To have gone through what she’s gone through...” He shook his head.
“You’ve been through a fair bit, too, I hear.” Jim slid side-eyes in Dante’s direction.
Dante scoffed. “A bit.”
At the sound of distant gunfire, coupled with the faint roar of tigers, both he and Jim stiffened.
“What’s that?” Dante asked, ready to go all commando and race from the room.
“I don’t know. Call the cops. Let’s go.” Jim reached for his jacket, tugging it over his large frame, while Dante connected with the police.
When he disconnected, he said, “They have a couple patrolmen on the way. And McGlasson and Norrick are five minutes away.” He pocketed his phone and said, “Which direction?”
Jim pointed to the doorway leading from the kitchen.
The two men hustled through the door that led into the sanctuary.
“The gunshot came from the back. Where we were earlier today. Hold on. I need to get the tranq gun. Could need to sedate a cat.” He zipped around the corner and returned a few seconds later, holding a rifle.
A cacophony of sirens filled the air as the two men raced toward the back.
That same sense of helpless dread he’d experienced when he found Madeline washed through Dante’s mind. As if he were treading the stairs of the flophouse, his feet felt wooden, numb, moving as if in slow motion.
More wildcat cries blasted into the atmosphere, like some unearthly shriek. A woman’s scream. Then the anguished cries of a male.
Dante’s mind went black. Thoughts of holding Madeline’s lifeless body catapulted through his brain. Thoughts of poor choices, foolish rebellion, his brother, Gia, his mother, all the people he cared for, secrets, the lifeblood of his music, and the loss, oh, the wretched loss of Kennedy. No, no, no, no, no. Say it isn’t so.
He charged along the path in the direction of the gunshot, the scream, the tiger’s roar, his blood pounding in his ears so loud he couldn’t hear anything else. His feet propelled him forward, along the narrow footpath. It bordered an optical illusion of sanctuary in the metal and concrete jungle, teeming with Manhattan’s elite, and lower east side down and outers, and Wall Street coked out traders, good guys like Ryan, the Bronx hip-hop scene, and Broadway actors and dancers, and tourists, and fucking Page Six. His pounding heart couldn’t take another tragedy accompanied by a headline, not a single one.
Without thought, Dante’s pace increased, until he sprinted like an Olympic runner along the path that lined the back of the sanctuary. He vaguely tracked Jim veering toward the vehicle access gate they’d entered earlier, and distantly heard him shouting for Dante to stay back. But common sense couldn’t reach him.
He rounded the corner and stopped. The faint glow of the moonlight illuminated a horrific scene.
A tiger had a man’s thigh in his unyielding jaws. The leg, still attached to the man, had been dragged through an opening at the bottom of the gate leading into the pen.
The rest of the man lay on the ground, yelling and screaming. It looked like his limb had been broken at the hip as his body lay in a grotesquely contorted, unnatural manner.
A second tiger paced behind the one gripping the guy’s leg, snarling, and growling.
And Kennedy, his beautiful Kennedy stood, bound but alive, picking up handful after handful of rocks and gravel, flinging them at the fallen male.
“I’m not your victim,” she cried. “No one’s victim,” she yelled. “You piece of shit.” She flung handful after handful, hauling back and releasing like she swung a bat with her two-handed grasp, seeming unconcerned with the fact she was trapped in a pen with two dangerous, blood-lusting wildcats.
“Baby,” Dante called. “Thank god you’re alive. Help’s coming.” He bent down to retrieve a rifle near his feet, apparently dropped by the other male. Knowing nothing about how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one, he tried to mimic the movies in his stance and grip, feeling like an idiot.
The large feline tried to pull the rest of his prize through the narrow opening. It tugged and tore, while the man let out horrific cries of agony.
The guy blubbered and bellowed. “Shoot him! Shoot the fucking tiger! He’s going to kill me!”
“Don’t listen to him. That’s Iniko!” Kennedy yelled. “That’s the man who’s trying to kill me!”
If Dante had known what to do, he would have shot the man. Instead, terrified of hurting Kennedy, he yelled, “Shut the fuck up. The tiger’s the least of your worries.” He hoped that were true, as he listened to the panting breaths and tromping feet of men charging to the rescue.
“Back away everyone,” Jim called. He forced past Dante, held the tranq gun next to his face, took aim and pulled the trigger.
The pacing tiger let out a screaming snarl and bolted away as the tranquilizer dart vibrated from his hindquarters like a quivering guitar string.
Another shot and tiger number two found a dart in his side, as well. This cat kept his death grip on the prized, bloody leg until sleep overtook him.
Both cats slumped to the ground, along with Kennedy, who fell to her knees.
“Get her out of there,” Dante yelled. “Get Kennedy! And get the guy who tried to murder her!”
Jim swiftly unlocked the chain as pandemonium circled around.
Cops flew to the fallen male, pulling him free despite his agonizing protests of pain, securing his arms behind his back with handcuffs.
“Call for a bus,” one of them yelled. “Get the paramedics back here.”
Dante shoved past Jim, eager to get to Kennedy. “Come on, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He gently guided her to her feet and hefted her in his arms. “I’ve got you.”
“Oh my God,” she blubbered, hysterical. “I picked up rocks and threw them at him. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so helpless. He was going to shoot Raja. The rocks hit Iniko’s face, and he lost his footing and fell. The gun went off. Then Akona came. I thought Akona and Raja would kill each other. They’re not supposed to be in the same pen together, ever. Akona snagged Iniko’s leg. Tried to pull him into the pen through the feeding opening like he was dinner. Makes sense, right? The new cats have no manners when it comes to feeding, and they often try to claw it through. Shit. It was awful, Dante, oh my God.”
“Shhh, baby, I’ve got you. Let’s get you free.” He made his way from the enclosure as Jim pushed in.
“Don’t shoot Raja, Jim. He didn’t do anything. He freed me.”
“Got it, choty goty. You worry about you. Let Dante take care of you.”
“I think Akona will have to be put down. He’s got the taste of human blood. We’ll never be able to rehabilitate him now.”
“I got it, girl. Let me deal with cats. You take care of you,” he repeated. “Go get free of your restraints.”
Dante swiftly carried her away from the ghastly scene. When they exited the sanctuary, he immediately spied legions of cops and ambulances.
Two paramedics headed toward him, carrying a slat-stretcher. One of them called out, “Where to?”
Dante pointed them in the right direction. “Need some assistance, here,” he yelled to a couple cops. “Got anything to cut her restraints?”
One of the paramedics produced a bolt cutter from the back of his ambulance. “Right here. Bring her here,” he said. “Let’s get her free, then examine her for injury.”
Dante held tightly to Kennedy as the bolt cutters snipped through her restraints.
Once she’d been freed, he leaned forward and embraced her as best he could, murmuring in her hair. “You’re safe, baby. It’s all over. Everything’s going to be all right. I’ve got you.”
“Oh, my god, Dante,” she said into his shoulder, sniffling. “I thought I was going to die. I thought I would never get to feel your arms again. Never get to hold you or be with you again. You were all I thought about. All that mattered. I was certain we’d be another tragic love story for you to write songs about.”
Dante’s eyes welled with tears. He leaned back to look into her beautiful, dirty, snot-covered face. She looked a complete mess. She looked like an angel. “I had all those thoughts, too, sweetheart.” He kissed her wet eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth. “But you’re here, I’m here, and we’ve been given a chance to start again, and I intend to be with you, forever.”
