Valentine Shepherd: Retribution Part 8

"Please let me go," Margaret says, her words slurred like she's already under the influence of another drug. "I won't tell anyone."

Lucien c.o.c.ks his head and smiles. "They always say that. I wonder if it's ever worked."

He taps the syringe, then eases the needle into Margaret's neck. "Our time has unfortunately been cut short. Thank you for your a.s.sistance. I will remember you as the most helpful one so far."

Val opened her eyes and the scene evaporated. Sten came into focus, lying on his back next to her, head hung halfway off the side of the bed. He smoked a cigarette and stared at the ceiling.

Finally, she'd seen something useful. What in the world had Sten done to knock that piece of information loose? It's not like she'd never had great s.e.x before-Max still held the top spot-but she'd never been able to focus a vision that well.

"Jesus, Sten," she said, still short of breath. She felt weak and wet all over, like she'd just stepped out of a hot shower after a brutal workout.

He exhaled a long column of smoke. "You're welcome."

"How the h.e.l.l did you do that-"

Val's cell phone rang from inside her tote bag on Sten's sad kitchenette table. A phone call at one thirty in the morning usually wasn't the kind she wanted to ignore. With muscles like jelly, she pushed herself off the bed and retrieved her cell. Her eyes widened when Max's face popped up on her caller ID.

He was calling her? After how their last meeting ended? And why would he call at this time of night? Did he know where she was? He'd never forgive her if he found out, though he already hated her so it really didn't matter. Nor was it any of his business, even if he did know.

She glanced at Sten, still lying on his back as he enjoyed his cigarette. He'd closed his eyes, crossed his legs, and appeared uninterested in Val's phone call-which probably meant he would listen to every word. f.u.c.king Sten.

Val turned away from him. Keeping her voice low, she answered the call. "Max?"

"Val?" Max said. Club music thumped in the background.

"Yeah."

"Is this Val?" His voice trembled as if he were on the verge of tears.

"What's wrong?" She'd only heard him this upset once before, when he'd confessed to killing his father in a fit of rage after years of abuse.

For a few seconds she only heard his labored breathing. Then he spoke again, "Help me."

She immediately began gathering up her clothes, which she'd tossed at the foot of Sten's bed. "Where are you?"

"I don't know. I was at a party, and then I was underwater, and then there was a house fire, and now there's flashing lights, and...uh...I dunno..." His words slurred and he trailed off.

She heard a thump, then rustling, as if his phone had dropped to the floor and been picked up again.

A gruff voice replaced Max's. "Your boyfriend's f.u.c.ked up, honey. He's at the Green Door Nightclub. Come get his a.s.s outta here." He hung up.

"s.h.i.t," Val muttered. She rushed to throw on her clothes.

"Leaving already?" Sten asked. "The night's still young. So many possible futures to see."

"Lucien Christophe's torturing Margaret in a lab somewhere," Val said as she pulled her jeans on. "Find a reason to go to his house or business or wherever he's keeping her and stop him."

"Is this Lucien guy rich and white, like his name suggests?"

"Yes."

"Then no."

Val scowled at him. "You're disgusting."

"Your f.u.c.k visions aren't quite enough for a warrant, especially against a guy who can afford a fleet of lawyers, sorry."

Val slipped on her sneakers and threw her hair, still moist with sweat, into a ponytail. She felt incredibly dirty-in more ways than one-but there was no time for a shower. "Fine. Just lie there and be incompetent. Why stop now, right?" She grabbed her tote and walked toward the door.

"Hey," Sten said with a sharpness that made her pause. He rolled onto his side toward her and nodded at his cell phone on the nightstand. "Give me your phone number. Your real number, not the burner you called me with."

Val stared him down. She hadn't agreed to any deal with him, though she sort of had agreed. If she needed to have s.e.x with someone for the purpose of saving people's lives, and wallow in some dirty pleasure to escape her s.h.i.tty existence, it might as well be him. He did have a...special touch. She had no idea what he planned to ask of her later, but she knew she'd come to regret it. Too late now. She programmed her name and number into his phone, then let it drop next to his ashtray.

"I am not your on-call wh.o.r.e."

He belly-laughed. "Last time I checked, you were the one using me for s.e.x."

Val scowled at him, but couldn't argue. What's he using me for, then? She hurried out the door before he could proffer any more embarra.s.sing truths.

Chapter Thirteen.

The Green Door Nightclub thumped with life. Black silhouettes gyrated around Val while wild rainbows lit up the ceiling and bathed half-naked dancers in suspended cages. Though Val wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion, the bouncer let her through after she explained she was there to fetch her "f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend." Val pushed through the crowd until she reached a bar in the opposite corner. She flagged down the bartender.

"My friend's pa.s.sed out somewhere," she yelled over the music. "Is there something like a drunk tank in here?"

"A what?" the bartender said, distracted by trio of intoxicated women screaming drink orders at him.

"f.u.c.ked. Up. Boyfriend."

He pointed to a spot on the second floor, underneath a neon collage of foul words. Val nodded her thanks, then weaved through clubbers to where he'd motioned. A couple of bouncers blocked her path, standing guard over a set of VIP tables overlooking the dance floor.

"f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend?" she said. They nodded to each other. Apparently "f.u.c.ked-up boyfriend" was the code phrase for exclusive access in this place.

One of the bodyguards led her to a sectioned-off area with a half-moon couch, sandwiched on both ends by cages holding a topless man and woman, respectively, covered in body paint and writhing to the music. Max slouched in the middle of the couch, eyes closed and arms and legs splayed like he'd pa.s.sed out there. She rushed to him and knelt at his side.

"Max?"

He didn't respond.

"Max." When he still didn't move, she looked at the bodyguard. "How long has he been like this?"

The bodyguard shrugged.

"How did he get here?"

He shrugged again, then walked away. Val couldn't tell if he didn't know or wouldn't say; probably the latter.

Val patted Max's cheek. "Max, wake up."

His eyelids fluttered, then opened. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Val?" he said weakly.

She smiled. "Yeah, it's me."

He lifted his head off the couch. A slow grin spread across his face. "I thought you were a dream."

"No, I'm-"

He slipped one hand behind her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her. All at once the rest of the world fell away and there was only him, rough lips joined with hers, tongue sliding against hers. Heart on fire, she sucked in his hot breath like water into the cracked desert. It filled her lungs and diffused into her veins until she thought she might explode from want of him. She remembered they were meant to be together.

No, we're meant to have a child together-a child that will be stolen.

With all the mental strength she had, Val pulled away. "I can't," she said, still breathless from his kiss. No matter what she wanted, he wasn't in his right mind.

"Don't...don't..." His hand slipped off her neck and his head fell backward. "Don't leave me again, red raven," he muttered.

Val took a deep breath and gave her head a little shake, trying to push his incredible taste out of her mind. "Come on, let's get out of here." She threw his arm around her shoulders and urged him to stand.

He pushed himself up on wobbly legs and walked with her, unsteady but able to support his own weight, thank G.o.d. Slowly they pushed their way through the crush of clubbers toward the exit until Max froze in the middle of the club. He pointed at the ceiling.

"Fire!" Max grabbed Val's arm and tried to run back the way they'd come, but the thick crowd blocked his egress. They stumbled to the ground together. He sat upright, then put his head between his legs. Val kneeled next to him, a canopy of writhing bodies above them.

"They're all on fire," he said, voice trembling.

She pulled on his arm. "Max, get up. There's no fire."

He wouldn't budge. What the h.e.l.l kind of drug was he on? Val put her hand on his head, ran a finger along the outside of his ear. He lifted his head and met her gaze with terrified eyes.

Val pressed her cheek to his. "Come with me, please. I won't leave you again." She nuzzled his earlobe, relishing the whiff she caught of his mountain spring shower gel. An image popped into her head of him wet and naked in the shower, lathering it on his neck.

Reluctantly she pulled away, the corner of her mouth brushing against his. Staring hard at her lips in the way he had that melted her from the inside, he finally allowed her to help him stand. Val swallowed back a nervous lump. She didn't think she could resist again if he kissed her. Before he could test her resolve once more, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the exit.

They stumbled through the parking lot and reached her car without another freak-out. Unsure where to take him, Val decided on her place. She didn't know where he lived, or if he'd want Abigail to see him in this state; her guess was no. If she took him to the hospital, there'd be media attention for sure, especially when they realized who she was in relation to him. Val knew he wouldn't want that, either. Her place was as good as any until whatever he was on wore off. Then he could decide on his own where to go next.

On the ride to her house, Max clenched his eyes shut and mumbled nonsense to himself, sometimes in different foreign languages. About halfway through the drive, he pointed to a state lottery sign and rattled off a string of digits. Val almost laughed; she was sure he'd just given her the winning numbers. Too bad she'd never remember what he'd said. But how could he see that now, while awake, and not in the trance of a vision? Maybe he wasn't as awake as he seemed.

When she got home, Stacey's car was gone and the house was dark. Val's roommate probably decided to stay the night at one of her girlfriends' houses. Good-Val didn't want to explain what the h.e.l.l was going on. She eased Max through the door and up the dark staircase to her bedroom. If she left him on the couch, he might try to run away again, or get sick and have no one to help him. She eased Max onto her bed, then unthreaded his sport coat from his arms and popped off his shoes. He rolled onto his stomach, an arm and a leg hanging off the side, and seemed to pa.s.s out once more.

He looked in a safe configuration, at least for the moment, so she took a quick shower, glad to finally wash Sten off her body. Feeling clean again, she stood naked in her bathroom doorway and toweled her hair dry, watching Max sleep. She almost wished he'd open his eyes and look at her, take in every part of her like the first time they'd made love. No matter how her body responded to Sten or anybody else, her heart belonged to Max. It would always belong to him. Just like they wanted.

Pushing back tears, Val pulled on pajamas and slipped into bed next to Max. She only half slept through the rest of the night, hyperaware of him just a few inches away, the urge to touch him nearly overwhelming. She dreamt of holding his hand and jumping off a cliff into a pool of turquoise water. They broke the surface, surrounded by a tropical paradise, and kissed. "I love you," he whispered against her lips. "I love you-"

As the first rays of dawn peeked through her window curtains, Val jolted awake when Max sat straight up in bed, gasping as if he were about to scream. He froze for a moment, then swiveled his head around until his bloodshot eyes settled on her.

"Val?" he said with significantly more lucidity than the night before, though he still seemed uncertain if he could believe his eyes.

"It's me."

He pawed at his clothes as if to a.s.sure himself they were still on. "Did-did we..."

"No," she said, trying-and failing-not to sound disappointed. Was he disappointed? She couldn't tell; he looked confused more than anything else.

"How did I get here?"

"I picked you up from the Green Door."

"The what?"

"The Green Door-a nightclub downtown. Weren't you there for a...bachelor party or something?"

"No." He rubbed the back of his head and winced. "Ah, G.o.dd.a.m.n. She must have knocked me out and taken me there."

"Who?"

"Kitty-I think. I don't know." He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Can I have a drink of water, please?"

"Yeah, of course."

She walked down to the kitchen and poured a gla.s.s from the tap. Before she could bring it up to him, he appeared at the foot of the stairs, disheveled clothes hanging off his perfect body, dark circles set in his handsome face-the very definition of a hot mess. He looked around for a moment-he'd never been in her house, she realized-then walked to a bookshelf and picked up a framed picture of Robby, the only one she still displayed. Max stared at the picture of his half brother for a long time. Then he put it back, shuffled to the dining room table, and collapsed into a chair. She spread peanut b.u.t.ter on a piece of bread-a simple breakfast she knew he ate often-and placed the food and drink in front of him.

"Thank you," he muttered, eyes downcast. He took a long drink of water and a small bite of the bread.

Val sat across from him and folded her arms. "So?" she asked, as proxy for a million questions.

He swallowed, then said, "I went to a Blue Serpent party."

A million completely different questions flooded her mind. "I thought you weren't going to help me with that."

"Well, I did," he snapped. "I did it for you-I mean, because you told me someone was going to die if I didn't."

"I didn't mean for you to go alone-"

"You don't mean for a lot of things to happen, Val, but they happen anyway!"

Flinching, she looked away. He was right; she didn't mean to hurt him, but she kept doing it anyway. She should've stayed away from him. But...she couldn't. She'd tried, she really did. The thought of never seeing him again made her nauseous. She wished she weren't so selfish, but there it was.

When she looked at him again, she found him staring at her, the anger on his face replaced by what looked like shame at his outburst, and something else-desire. He still wanted her, despite himself...or did he? She felt her cheeks heat up as the inferno he kept within himself, the one he struggled to control, crept out of him and into her.

We could make love right here, right now, on the kitchen table, she thought, but before the fire could engulf them both, he looked away. He crossed his arms over his chest-the shield again-and took a deep breath.

"There were pills at the party," he said after a moment, staring at the floor. "Probably made by Lucien, though he denied it. He said the blue one 'created the dream,' which I think means it's a hallucinogenic of some sort, and the red one was supposed to be an aphrodisiac-"