Skin Game Part 12

"Get this, Steve. I know a thousand ways to kill you, and I'm only letting you live because I need a messenger, and you're here. You ride on back to Dwight. Tell him to write the bar off and move on. All I wanted that day was a beer. He called the play by accusing me of being a cop." Reyes let that sink in. "Do I look look like a cop to you?" like a cop to you?"

"No, sir," Steve gabbled.

"If he sends anyone else after me and mine, I go scorched earth on this. Not just Dwight, I'm talking his friends, his family, anybody who ever looked at him kindly." Reyes bent, letting the other man look into his eyes for a full minute. "Are we clear?"

Whatever he'd seen, it made him shudder. "Crystal."

"Get out."

Steve scrambled out the door on hands and knees. The tool he'd used to pop the door lay forgotten on the floor, right beside Kyra. G.o.ddammit, he hadn't put the chain on for her when he went back to his room. Reyes did that first and then knelt beside her. She'd curled into the fetal position on her side, so tightly coiled that he was afraid she'd hurt herself. A soft little whine came from her throat, like that of a wounded animal.

Looking at her, he didn't think she'd been injured enough to warrant this reaction. Something weird was going on, something really weird. He touched her shoulder lightly.

"Kyra, it's over. He's gone."

Nothing. But she tucked her face farther, brought her knees up higher. Shudders ran through her in deep waves, almost like a convulsion. That scared the s.h.i.t out of him.

"Did he drug you?"

With the lamps broken, he wouldn't be able to see a tiny pinp.r.i.c.k. Jesus, what if she was going into anaphylactic shock? Helplessness swamped him. He had no experience with rescuing people or helping in their time of need. The trick with the cord was more his forte.

"Come on, Kyra. Talk to me, baby. What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Bathroom," he thought she whispered, but it was hard to tell through her chattering teeth.

Okay, that he could do. Reyes scooped her up, ran to the tiny lavatory, and flicked on the light. He started to put her in the tub, but she shook her head, eyes wide and wild. He'd never seen anything like her expression right now, blanched almost to bone and sick as death. Bewildered, he set her down and she fell to her knees beside the toilet. The dinner he'd cooked came up in a liquid rush.

"Do you need to go to the emergency room?" he asked.

"Get out!" she demanded, wiping her mouth. "Go!"

Then the next wave hit her. As she vomited, she sobbed. Since she'd gone to sleep in a ponytail she didn't even need him to hold her hair back, and she clearly wanted him gone. So he grabbed the ice bucket and stepped outside. The balcony was clear. If he'd moved on the a.s.shole when he'd noticed him earlier, this wouldn't have happened, but he couldn't go around killing people for potential offenses. He didn't want to leave her even for a minute, but she might want cold water or ice chips when she finally recovered. If she did.

When he returned, he found her huddled beside the toilet, wracked with dry heaves. Her eyes were red with weeping, her nose running, and she smelled disgusting. Quietly, he wet a wash-cloth, added a touch of her coconut bath gel, and then began to wash her face. It warmed him when she didn't pull away.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," she said, gazing up at him with dull, wrecked eyes. "Why didn't you kill him? I wish to G.o.d you had."

That was the last thing he expected to hear, and it sent a shock of unease through him. Reyes was no stranger to taking human life; he did it for a living after all, but it was a job to him, not something that gave him pleasure. He'd started on the path inside, after he went down for raping a white girl, one with money, who liked it rough and then when she realized the enormity of what they'd done-and what it said about her particular tastes-recanted her consent.

They'd come at him hard, but after he killed the third inmate in as many months, a child-molester that time, they'd accorded him some respect. And it felt good, good, taking out some sc.u.mbag. At that point, he started wondering whether he could turn that rush into an entrepreneurial venture. taking out some sc.u.mbag. At that point, he started wondering whether he could turn that rush into an entrepreneurial venture.

"Why?"

She didn't seem to hear him, just mumbling into s.p.a.ce. "It's a funny thing, touch. Sometimes I get something good, other times, not so much. You know what he was best at? Rape. But when he touched me, he lost his wood. That's why he was so p.i.s.sed at me . . . he couldn't do it to me like he planned when I had his mojo. But now . . . now, it's what I'm I'm good at." And she began to cry, long l.u.s.ty sobs that broke his heart, even though he had no idea in h.e.l.l what she was talking about. good at." And she began to cry, long l.u.s.ty sobs that broke his heart, even though he had no idea in h.e.l.l what she was talking about.

"Kyra . . . , sweetheart, you're not making sense."

But he couldn't get anything else out of her; she just cried quietly, tears slipping down her face. Even though he didn't like to risk staying the night here-let alone three nights like they'd planned-because Steve might have called in their location, he couldn't just bundle her into the Marquis and take off. He didn't know where they were going for one thing. Reyes was sure she had some destination in mind, however meandering their route had been thus far.

Morning light would have to be soon enough. He'd stay awake in case of trouble. Kyra let him brush her teeth and comb her hair. It wasn't a shower, but he didn't think she needed to be handled further in her condition. He'd never seen anything like it, except in women who survived the harshest battlefield conditions, and possibly . . . those who'd been raped.

But the b.a.s.t.a.r.d hadn't done that. Reyes was sure he'd gotten there in time. Puzzled, he lifted her into his arms and took her back to the bedroom. This bed had been violated, though, so he carried her on through to the connecting room. He went back for her stuff and locked the door from his side. They wouldn't be going back in there.

Kyra had a thing about being touched, he reasoned. Maybe having a strange man break into her bedroom and grab her had all the traumatic weight of a rape. Reyes settled against the headboard and pulled her into his arms. She didn't fight him, just settled her head on his chest. His heart gave a queer squeeze.

"I don't understand what's wrong," he finally whispered. "And I can't help if I don't understand. I feel like I'm missing something here. Can you explain?"

"You'd never believe me."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"You always surprise me," she admitted. She finally sounded close to coherent. "I'm sorry about your dinner. Sometimes I can't help it. Touching the wrong people makes me sick."

Reyes couldn't believe she'd just apologized for puking. He waved that away, feeling like he was on the verge of figuring her out. She'd said, Now it's what I'm best at, Now it's what I'm best at, after the guy had touched her. Reyes had forgotten something key, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and it would be better if she confided in him. after the guy had touched her. Reyes had forgotten something key, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and it would be better if she confided in him.

"Tell me why."

CHAPTER 15.

Kyra closed her eyes. Maybe that would make it easier. After everything she'd put him through tonight, she owed him an explanation.

"It doesn't work with you anymore," she began. "But the first time I touched you, I stole your ability to fight. You may even have noticed the theft, felt sick or slightly dazed. Sometimes people do, depending on their sensitivity. The loss isn't permanent . . . I never know how long I'll have a talent, so I generally work fast after I've tapped a mark."

She felt him stiffen against her and waited for the derision. When she was a kid, she'd confided in a couple of people, despite her dad's insistence it was a bad idea and would cost them their edge in the game, but it never worked out. They always thought she was a liar, and over the years, she'd stopped trying.

"So . . . I didn't didn't imagine it," he said slowly. imagine it," he said slowly.

She lifted her head, surprised. "You noticed."

"I did, the first few times. But it started to slack off, and then eventually, nothing happened at all, so I thought I'd hallucinated the whole thing."

Kyra looked puzzled. "That's new. I've never had it stop working before."

"Which means you can't touch without stealing something."

"Yeah." He couldn't know how depressing that thought became. "And if I make contact with too many marks, take in too much, it feels like my head's going to explode."

"That's why you're so careful about touching people."

"I can't believe you haven't said I'm crazy yet." She shook her head.

"Well..." He smiled. "You are, but not because of this. I'll be honest . . . if I hadn't noticed some of this stuff on my own, I wouldn't believe you. But you've given me proof that's hard to deny. You kicked that guy's a.s.s in the convenience store using my my moves. There's no way you could've learned those independently. You hardly knew me." moves. There's no way you could've learned those independently. You hardly knew me."

"You saw that." She sat up. "How come you didn't help me?"

"It seemed like you had the situation under control." Rey sank his hands into her hair, smoothing it gently with his fingers. "So this . . . ability . . . how does it work? Is it random? Do you have any idea why you can do this?"

"Based on what I've figured out by trial and error, I get whatever the other person's best at. In your case, that's combat." She leveled a long look on him. "Since this is out in the open now, we're going to talk about why why that is, at some point. The duration might be random for all I know. I tried timing it at first to see if that made a difference, but the results came back so varied, I didn't learn much. Now I just work fast and hope for the best." that is, at some point. The duration might be random for all I know. I tried timing it at first to see if that made a difference, but the results came back so varied, I didn't learn much. Now I just work fast and hope for the best."

"There's some adrenaline in that," he noted.

"Yeah," she admitted. "There is. I like the risk and the rush. Will I get the job done before I lose it?"

"That's how you manage the pool and darts hustle," he realized aloud. "You seem so unskilled in the first few matches because you really are. Genius."

Kyra nodded, wondering if he would put the rest together. "As long as I don't repeat the game in the same place, it works like a charm. Keeps me from honest work."

"But it also makes it impossible for you to settle down."

She gave him a look. "Do I look like I want want to?" to?"

"Point taken." Rey's dark brows drew together, and she could almost see him tracking through everything that had happened. "The biker who broke in . . . you said-"

Kyra nodded.

"I let a rapist go, didn't I?" He swore, low and virulent in some mixture of Spanish and Portuguese. "If I'd known, I never would have. . . ." Rey broke off, as apparently something else occurred to him. "You felt what he's best at. Is it still with you? Christ, no wonder wonder you were sick." you were sick."

"No." She shook her head. "It's been gone for a little while now, just residual nausea left. Staying power isn't his forte."

"I'll track him down if you want. I don't care how long it takes."

Tempting. She hated to think of the son of a b.i.t.c.h hurting other women. But she couldn't afford to backtrack to Texas, and she didn't want to send Rey away at this point. In a few more days, they'd be in North Dakota, where she'd find Mia, and then . . . well, she'd see. But she had a gnawing impulse to ask Rey to go away with her, someplace warm and sunny that didn't put U.S. extradition high on their priority list. She hated to think of the son of a b.i.t.c.h hurting other women. But she couldn't afford to backtrack to Texas, and she didn't want to send Rey away at this point. In a few more days, they'd be in North Dakota, where she'd find Mia, and then . . . well, she'd see. But she had a gnawing impulse to ask Rey to go away with her, someplace warm and sunny that didn't put U.S. extradition high on their priority list.

She thought about what he'd said to Steve. "What do you think Dwight's going to do when he gets your message?"

Rey started to smile. "If he's as dumb as I think he is, he'll shoot the messenger and ignore everything he said."

"I live in hope."

This would be the perfect time to tell him everything, but she wasn't ready. Trust didn't come easy to her, and she wasn't about to put all her eggs in one basket, in case he turned out to be different than she thought. Money talked a good game, and while Rey might sneer at a small-time punk, Serrano was in a different league. He could lay down serious currency.

"This means we need to watch our backs," he was saying. "We might have more a.s.sholes coming, and he was right about your car. It's memorable. If they have people looking, they'll spot us pretty fast. I don't suppose you'd consider trading it in?"

"I'd rather die."

"Hope it doesn't come to that," he muttered. "If you're feeling up to it, we should pack and get on the road. We may have people heading for us as we speak."

In answer, she slid out of bed and started gathering up her stuff. The room next door was trashed, so she left some cash on the night table to cover the damage. She didn't intend to discuss the issue with the night manager. Within five minutes, they were ready to roll out.

Rey jingled her car keys. "Me or you, sweetheart?"

Until meeting him, she'd always hated endearments because they were either meaningless or representative of emotional entanglements she couldn't experience. For the first time, she felt like she might matter to somebody else. And she liked it.

"You can," she said. "I'm still a little shaky. I better not be driving if I have to hurl again."

"Is that likely?" He looked a little worried.

"Hope not. But I wouldn't know. Never run across anybody like him before."

Kyra hoped she never did again. Words couldn't describe the horror of someone who gloried in his ability to use his body to inflict pain. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d liked it and knew he was good at it, a real virtuoso in fact. He'd been thinking about doing it to her right up until he laid hands on her. A hard breath shuddered through her, and she fought the feeling that he'd contaminated her somehow, deep in places where she could never scrub it out.

"You're okay," Rey said quietly. "Now come on, let's get out of here."

It wasn't even dawn as they crept out of his room, bags shouldered. She'd collected all the supplies-like the spices-that would travel well. Maybe he could cook for her again. There was something homey about a meal somebody made for you, even if he cooked it in a cheap motel kitchenette. If anyone had asked her if she craved home cooking, Kyra would've said no-but now that she'd tasted it, she wouldn't mind seconds, preferably under circ.u.mstances where she got to digest the food. She'd liked watching him work, knowing he was doing it to impress her.

n.o.body else was stirring as they slid into the Marquis. Kyra watched the lot every bit as carefully as Rey at this point. After tossing their things in back, he hopped in, stuck the key in the ignition, and they were off toward the lightening horizon.

"Where are we headed?"

She could tell him that much. "Do you know how to get to I-76 from here?"

"Yeah."

"Head for it. We didn't get much sleep, so we won't drive far today. I'm thinking we'll stop in Alliance, Nebraska, and try to get some rest. From there, it's Sioux Falls, and then Fargo."

"So that's our final destination."

"Yep." She wasn't telling him why. "I don't think we should take two rooms anymore. We can get two beds if you prefer, but it would be safer if we stayed close."

"That's true," he agreed. "But let me ask you this . . . are you out of your mind?" His tone was level, almost pleasant, belying the sharp words.

She glanced at him in surprise. "Huh?"

"You've been teasing me longer than any woman has a right to. Now Now you ask if I prefer two beds? No. I want you under me. I want to wake up smelling you on my skin. Is that clear enough?" you ask if I prefer two beds? No. I want you under me. I want to wake up smelling you on my skin. Is that clear enough?"

"I don't think it's normal for you to feel like that. You just saw me puke." Jesus. Jesus. She couldn't believe she'd just said that. She couldn't believe she'd just said that. Why bring it up? Let him forget, for f.u.c.k's sake. Why bring it up? Let him forget, for f.u.c.k's sake.

"We're not exactly poster children for normal, are we? Get some sleep."

Kyra balled one of his sweatshirts to make a pillow, and it took her all of three minutes to fall asleep. Reyes could follow the signs to Nebraska, no problem. But could he still kill her? This was the first time since he'd gone into the business that he'd run into trouble completing a contracted a.s.signment, but he was sure Foster had lied about her. There wasn't a vicious bone in her body. Sure, she could be wicked, but cruelty was a different instinct.

She hadn't stolen the money, either; Reyes was positive of that now. Kyra was a con artist, not a thief, and she used her unique ability to power her games. Given what he knew of her, he'd bet she had won the money, maybe not fairly, but it was hers. He didn't know why Serrano was so determined to see her dead for it. Given his personal wealth, he could afford to shrug off a couple mil. He'd make it back in less than a week.

So it had to be something more. It rankled him that she hadn't confided in him when he'd tried so d.a.m.n hard to be receptive. His first instinct had been to call bulls.h.i.t, but he'd restrained it, telling himself to hear her out. By the time she was done, he had to admit her story made a crazy kind of sense and dovetailed with what he knew of her. Trouble was, he didn't know enough.

For one thing, he had no idea why they were stopping in Alliance, Nebraska. He'd never heard of the place, and couldn't imagine it would be big enough to support a con. They hadn't made any money in Denver, either. On the surface, Kyra had shared a lot with him. When you took a closer look, she'd told him just enough to shut him up.

Frustrating.

Reyes drove in silence. Every now and then, his gaze slid to the woman slumped in the pa.s.senger seat. In sleep, she seemed smaller somehow, stripped of the att.i.tude that gave her presence. He realized how much weight she carried alone . . . and her shoulders looked downright fragile. Even the smattering of freckles on her cheeks made her look younger, more vulnerable.

She'd hate him thinking along those lines so he kept his eyes on the road. Things greened up as the day wore on. The closer they got to Nebraska, the more farmland surrounded the road. As they crossed the state line, Reyes read the sign "Welcome to Nebraska, the good life," with an ironic quirk of his mouth. He couldn't ever recall visiting this particular state, surely for good reason.