Second Skin Part 4

"Stop her!" Louis yelled. "Get back here!"

"I think I threw out my back!" Marius moaned. "Hex it, I'm gonna need the chiropractor again."

When I rolled off the Fairlane and tried to stand, I was unsteady. The alley was blurring, the vibrations from my fall echoing in my bones. I managed to shove the key into the Fairlane's door and start the car one-handed. I laid on the horn and then revved the engine, steering with my forearm and using my good hand to pop the emergency brake and put the Fairlane in gear.

Louis and Marius got the message. I gunned it out of the alley, past their outraged faces, clipped a garbage can with my fender, and managed to drive myself to the hospital in Highland Park one-handed.

Even for me, this was shaping up to be one h.e.l.l of a bad night.

CHAPTER 4.

The doctor at Sharpshin Memorial took one look at my bruises and sc.r.a.pes, and asked, "What happened here, Miss Wilder? Do you need to file a police report?"

"Would you believe I actually fell down some stairs? Well, off. Sort of off the landing and down, and then I hit a car."

He stopped writing on my chart and looked at me over the black rims of his gla.s.ses. "Any particular kind of car?"

"A sixty-nine Ford."

"It'd be very easy for me to get the cops in here, Miss Wilder . . ."

I sighed, fidgeting with my elastic wrist bandage and sling. "Check my jacket."

He went in and found my badge and ID. "Oh."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Could I get some painkillers? Or all the painkillers? Either way."

"I'll write you a prescription to fill. Your wrist is just sprained, not broken, so you should be right as rain in a few weeks."

Or a few days, with the way weres healed, but I didn't clue him in. "Thanks, Doc."

"Don't mention it. Do you have someone who can drive you home?'

From outside the curtains, I heard shouting with a Ukrainian accent, smelled cloves and leather. "Yeah," I said, sighing. "That's him."

"Sir, you can't go in there . . ." The nurse didn't sound particularly stern. Angry weres are pretty d.a.m.n intimidating even when they're human.

"Hex you!" Dmitri snarled. The curtain thrashed and he appeared a moment later, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Luna! What the h.e.l.l are you playing at?"

"Ow," I said through gritted teeth. "Sweetie, d'you think you could not squeeze the parts I used to break my fall with?"

He loosened his grip and stepped back. "Will you please tell me what is going on?"

"Excuse me, who are you?" my doctor asked. "I'm still treating Miss Wilder."

"I'm the guy who's going to twist your head backward if you don't give us a minute, buddy," Dmitri said without looking away from me. He spoke pleasantly, his eyes bleeding to black. My hand twitched reflexively to where my sidearm usually rested on my hip, except now it was all the way across the room with my coat.

The doctor reached for the phone on the wall, but I held up a hand. "Just give us a minute, please?"

"I'll be right outside," he said, giving Dmitri a look that clearly telegraphed he thought Dmitri was a psychotic wife-beater.

"Luna," Dmitri said when he stepped away. "What happened?"

"If I tell you, will you calm down?"

Dmitri rotated and looked at himself in the mirror. "You know, I think I can be forgiven for getting a little upset when I have to get my mate out of the hospital." Still, he took a deep breath and the black retreated, only the faintest corona around his pupils.

"I fell and sprained my wrist," I said, flashing the sling. "No biggie."

He turned away from me, tugging on his messy copper hair. "I told you this would happen. I told told you." you."

"You did," I agreed, getting up and collecting my things with my good hand. "And yet, strangely, I still decided to go out and do my job."

"It's not your your job!" Dmitri growled. "You didn't have to do any of this. You're just being contrary." job!" Dmitri growled. "You didn't have to do any of this. You're just being contrary."

"Darling, if you didn't know I was contrary until we started cohabiting, you're a lot less observant than I gave you credit for."

His face twisted up, but he didn't say anything. I didn't, either. I knew this wasn't my job. I knew I was being selfish. But I was also on to something, d.a.m.n it. Four weres dead, Bryson was in a panic, and I was trying to unravel it all and keep Dmitri and me together at the same time.

I wondered how long the painkillers took to kick in.

Dmitri interpreted my silence as stubborn refusal to admit I was wrong, which was accurate. "Let's just go home," he said finally. "I could spend a lifetime without going to pick you up from some sawbones every time you get in over your head."

"The next time I do, I'll make sure you're off my emergency contact list."

His shoulders twitched like I'd stabbed him.

"Dmitri . . ."

"I just want to get out of here," he said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Okay," I said. "Okay. Me too."

Outside in the car park, Dmitri held out his hand for my keys. "What about your bike?" I asked, pa.s.sing them over. The little pentacle charm dangling from the chain jingled.

"I'll get it tomorrow, take it up the a.s.s for parking," he said. "Get in."

I stayed where I was. "Why does this always happen to us, Dmitri?"

"Because you don't listen to me."

I shook my head. "You're just as stubborn as I am and I don't chew your head off about it." I sighed. "I'm just used to being on my own. I'm sorry, but this . . . our whole thing . . . is taking a long time to get used to."

Bracing myself to hear Dmitri say, Too long for me, Too long for me, wish me a good life, and walk away, I felt the roil in my stomach, the nervous twitch that came when the were realized its mate was about to leave it. It had happened with the man who turned me, and when Dmitri had left the time before. And the time before that. wish me a good life, and walk away, I felt the roil in my stomach, the nervous twitch that came when the were realized its mate was about to leave it. It had happened with the man who turned me, and when Dmitri had left the time before. And the time before that.

"This wouldn't be a problem if I could induct you as a Redback," Dmitri said simply. "My stubbornness or lack of it has nothing to do with what's happening here. This is all you, Luna."

Quickly as I'd yearned for him to stay, the anger snapped back into place. "Me becoming a member of your pack is not a magic bullet, so leave off that before I get really p.i.s.sy."

Dmitri cursed in Ukrainian, then jerked open the pa.s.senger's door of the Fairlane and motioned me inside. "We'll continue this later."

"No!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the empty cavern of the garage. "You've got a bug up your a.s.s about this and I want to know why! Does it bother you that I'm Insoli? Are you ashamed ashamed of me?" of me?"

Dmitri pushed his hair out of his eyes, which were green and angry, but not bleeding into that cold outer-s.p.a.ce black that signaled the daemon was riding shotgun. It could be worse.

"You f.u.c.king know that's not what I meant. Did it ever occur to you that if you were Redback, we'd be home in bed instead of outside the Hexed emergency room? That the Loup never would have touched you? I just don't get why you do this to yourself when it would be so easy to fix. You'd understand me, you'd be safe. What's wrong wrong with any of that?" with any of that?"

Then again, it could be a lot better.

"I don't want to be something I'm not," I said simply. "You're a Redback, Dmitri, and I'm me." My head throbbed and the were snarled and paced inside my consciousness, scenting my anger and begging me to let it out, just for a second, just a sniff of blood . . .

"So you've made clear," Dmitri said. "And let me make myself clear: these problems? Are yours. You refuse to give even an inch to anyone. So we fight. I don't like it, but I stick around hoping you'll learn how to work with me."

"Stop patronizing me," I muttered. "You suck at it."

"And you refuse to see what's right in front of your face!" Dmitri bellowed, hitting the roof of my car with the flat of his hand. I narrowed my eyes.

"Which is what, exactly? You and your weird, obsessive need to have me in your little club? The fact that you're so hung up on controlling me you can't let this go even when it's ripping us to shreds?"

"The fact that I can't protect you! I can't protect you!"

I froze. Dmitri pressed his hands over his face, his cheeks crimson and his heart thudding so loudly I could hear it clear across the car. "It's not going away, Luna," he said from behind his hands. "And I have no one. I'm a Redback in name only, and if something happens . . . I can't. can't. Do you understand me? I can't Do you understand me? I can't do do anything to keep you safe, and even if I could, I don't know that anything to keep you safe, and even if I could, I don't know that it it would let me." would let me."

I hobbled over to him and pulled his hands away from his face. "I've seen what it is to be in a pack, Dmitri," I told him. "I've felt it-that ugly, nasty dominate that anyone, anyone anyone in a pack who's above you can give. I've seen the beatings and the rapes and the fear in those women's eyes." in a pack who's above you can give. I've seen the beatings and the rapes and the fear in those women's eyes."

c.r.a.p. Now I was starting to get emotional. My eyes stung, not from the phase but from tears. "I almost was was one of those women, and I still wake up shaking, thinking about what would have happened to me if I'd stayed with the man who gave me the bite." one of those women, and I still wake up shaking, thinking about what would have happened to me if I'd stayed with the man who gave me the bite."

"It wouldn't be like that," Dmitri insisted. "The Redbacks are honorable. And they could keep you safe."

"You don't know that," I said. "All it would take is one time with a dominate stronger than mine-one dealer who didn't want a bust, one drunk loser who wanted some tail-and my job and my life would be over. I couldn't do my job. I'd have nothing except fear."

Dmitri grunted. "You'd have me."

"I already have you," I said, pulling him down and kissing him on the forehead. "Why can't you let me live my own life?"

"Because sooner or later you're going to find someone tougher than you," Dmitri said. He got into the Fairlane and started the engine. It made a clatter, and a little smoke curled from under the hood. "And I can't think about what will happen then. But I want you to think about this. That's all I ask, Luna: if you love me, consider that I might be right."

I did love Dmitri. And I did consider. But years of keeping myself out of a pack, from being someone's property and responsibility, wouldn't let me say it out loud. I wanted to keep Dmitri close, but every time we ran up against this wall of Redback/Insoli, I reacted badly, and I wasn't entirely sure I could ever change that. And it scared me.

But I would never say any of that out loud.

When most people are mad and confused, they sit around and brood, or take out their frustration on their loved ones. They drink or eat or go out and get into bar fights.

I'd done all of those back in my other life, when the were ruled me, and I'd found that none of these compared to a day at the firing range.

Fitzpatrick tapped me on the shoulder when I'd expended all the rounds in my Glock. "You okay, Wilder? You're shooting like you got something against life in general."

"Fine," I muttered. Batista and the rest of Tac-3 were arrayed down the alleys. SWAT officers had to requalify every three months and we tried to do it together, then go out afterward for beers. Bastista called his target back from the end of the range. The ten shots clumped neatly together in the center ma.s.s.

"s.h.i.t," Fitzpatrick muttered. He crumpled up his target and stalked off.

"Seriously . . . you all right?" Batista ejected his clip, cleared the chamber, and started to reload.

"Fine!" I said again. "G.o.ds, I'm just fine. Everybody can just stop asking, all right?"

"You're pulling to the right there, a little," said Batista. "Something happen to your hand? You didn't get hit too bad by the quake out at the beach?"

I flexed my wrist, which was healed but still smarting like a hamster was chewing on my nerve endings. Weres heal up fast, but we're not invincible. "No," I said. "Just smashed some crockery at my place." To deflect Batista's bright black gaze I said, "How about you?"

"Don't ask." He rolled his eyes. "Smashed up the picture window, and Marisol's flower beds got torn apart. I haven't heard the end of that for two days. Where she thinks I get the cash to make everything better on a police salary, only her and G.o.d know."

I put a fresh clip into the Glock. "They can do marvelous things with credit cards these days, Javier."

"Hex me," he muttered. "My abuela abuela told me Marisol was gonna put me in the poorhouse, but did I listen? No." told me Marisol was gonna put me in the poorhouse, but did I listen? No."

The intercom on the wall squawked. "Wilder, someone here to see you."

I looked over my shoulder at the range commander in his little gla.s.sed-in office. He mimed picked up the phone, but I gestured for whoever-it-was to come in.

Bryson appeared a moment later, goggles and ear protection mussing his greasy pompadour. "I've been looking all over for you!" he yelled at top volume.

Batista gave him the eye. "Wilder, you know this clown?"

"Unfortunately," I said. "What is it, Bryson?"

"What did you find out!" he bellowed. I yanked off his ear protection and bent my mouth close.

"I can hear you!"

Bryson winced and gave me a reproachful look. "What did you find out about the Loup?" he asked in a normal tone.

I sighted down the Glock, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. I put half the clip into the paper target, the recoil beating against my wrist, before I answered. "Nothing about your case."

"Nothing!" Bryson yelped. "What are you doin' to me, Wilder? Jesus!"

"Oh, settle down. You're gonna have a heart attack going on like this, you know. I did did hear some mildly interesting chatter about how the Loup have been knocked off the top five list for sc.u.mbag drug dealers in the city, and they're hurting. Might be why they're so cranky about the Lautrec thing." hear some mildly interesting chatter about how the Loup have been knocked off the top five list for sc.u.mbag drug dealers in the city, and they're hurting. Might be why they're so cranky about the Lautrec thing."

Bryson put a protective hand over his chest. "Did you at least get 'em to lay off nailing c.r.a.p to my door?"