The King and the Courtesan (17 page)

Bruce and Garrett stayed at the current stairwell while Roger, Ezekiel, and I picked through the rubble on the floor and ducked beneath the thick, black smoke to the other stairwell. I started to cough, overwhelmed by heat and smoke as sweat poured down my back and neck. Pain ripped up my leg as my ankle twisted, and I bit back a loud curse. Thanks to my ridiculous shoes, I was falling behind. Before I could stumble any more, Roger’s arm suddenly wound around my waist and he picked me up. Lucky for him, I was not a heavy woman, so he had little trouble carrying me.

Roger set me down when we reached the door at the other end of the hall. Or the lack of a door. The explosion had torn the door from its frame, and it lay, blackened, another flight down. Smoke was thick and the heat thicker, and once again hysteria crawled up my throat. If the men with guns didn’t kill us, then the smoke in our lungs certainly would. I was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous.

“I don’t see anyone,” Ezekiel murmured. He reached over and grabbed me, forcing Roger to let me go. “Stay between us,” he ordered me.

I looked back at Roger, but he was pulling another gun from his belt. This wasn’t the slightly bashful bodyguard I knew. This was another man entirely. I was suddenly afraid of him, as well.

We slowly went down the stairs, our backs pressed against the walls, taking the stairs painful step by painful step. The atmosphere was so tense that I let out a yelp when the fourth floor door banged open and a man in a black mask emerged. He whipped around to face us, but Ezekiel quickly shot him in the head. I swallowed a whimper as a spray of blood hit the wall behind him. Ezekiel stepped over his body as if it were just another piece of rubble, not even pausing to see the damage he caused. I, on the other hand, could not help but gape at the blood and shiny flesh that smeared across the concrete block, more gruesome than anything I’d seen in a horror movie. For a second, I worried I might throw up, but then I felt Roger’s hand between my shoulders, guiding me away from the scene and down the stairs. Drawing a deep breath, I was able to get my legs under me and keep walking.

“I suggest we clear the way for Bruce and Garrett.” Ezekiel pulled open the fourth floor door and stepped inside. I scooted around the dead body, refusing to look at it.

This floor was hot, but at least there weren’t pieces of wall littering the ground. Roger pushed my shoulder against the wall, and we slowly moved forward down the corridor, watching for any hint of movement. I kept waiting for a bullet to pierce me, and each step made me wince in anticipation of pain. I wanted to hide behind Roger or Ezekiel—to whimper, to cry—but I knew that I’d be met with no sympathy. I’d braved the streets since I was sixteen. If I could stab a lusty customer with a pair of scissors, I could keep my wits about me now, under the protection of trained professionals.

Roger had his back pressed against a door when it opened suddenly and a streak of light filled the hallway. It seemed the man entering the hall was as shocked as Roger, and for a moment, no one moved.

The man reached for his gun, but Roger grabbed the man’s head and twisted it. There was a loud
crack
and the man crumpled, his head turned at an unnatural angle.

Ezekiel fired his gun a few times into the room. There was a thump of flesh hitting linoleum and a few grunts that seemed like last-second protests to death. I leaned past the doorway, my curiosity getting the better of me. Indeed, three men lay dead inside the room, their blood circling them like auras.

My urge to vomit grew.

“Come on.” Roger grabbed me, face blank, eyes cold. We moved faster toward the stairwell at the opposite end of the building. My urge to hold Roger had retracted, leaving only the desire to get as far away from him as possible. He had snapped a man’s neck with his bare hands. He didn’t look sorry for it at all. Who
was
this guy? I’d expected such cruelty from Ezekiel, but
Roger
?

The stairwell door flew open and Roger shoved me behind the corner of another corridor. He dove behind me, along with Ezekiel, who raised guns in both hands to shoot. Roger was the last to find shelter, and something pelted him in the shoulder, letting free a spray of red mist. Roger found cover moments later, settling in next to Ezekiel, who did his best to shoot around the corner.

“Roger—”

Roger shook his head, and I could see the blood pooling in the hole in his jacket. For someone who had just been shot, he didn’t look that distressed. I knew if Joel had been under similar circumstances, he would have cried and whined. Not these men. This was a typical day on the job for them.

The gunfire stopped, so I assumed the men had left or been killed. When we stood, there were two lying on the floor, one still clutching the carpet in hopes of retrieving his gun. Ezekiel stood over him, and the man’s face filled with horror. Ezekiel raised a heel and shoved it into the outstretched hand on the ground, which snapped before the man howled. When he began to whimper, Ezekiel lifted his gun and shot him twice in the head, eyes blank, lips pulled into a grim line. I looked away. Roger didn’t.

“Let’s go.”

Ezekiel took us into the stairwell just as Bruce and Garrett made it to the fourth floor. We were all together again, and it seemed the shooters had thinned and retreated. The journey to the lower floors went without much incident, except for the scream of sirens in the background. The fire department would be here soon, along with the police. It was time to leave.

At the first level, we split up again. Ezekiel, Bruce, and Garrett would take the limo to some undisclosed location to “finish what was started,” despite the fact that all of them were bleeding from some sort of injury.

Roger had parked on the other side of the building. I slipped into the front seat beside him as he started the car and backed out of the alley with a squeal of tires. We sped down a few streets until the fire sirens bled into silence.

“Roger, your shoulder.”

“I’ll be fine.” He was driving with only one arm because the one connected to the injured shoulder dangled uselessly at his side, his fingers twitching.

“You should get to a hospital.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I was scared of him. I feared he’d do something terrible if I raised my voice, even if that made no sense.

“Yes, because they wouldn’t ask any questions of a man who showed up with a bullet wound in his shoulder right after a shooting took place.” He took a corner sharply and winced.

“You have to do something! You’re bleeding too much.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just sit there and wait.”

“Roger.”

“What?”

“You—you killed that man.”

Roger sighed heavily and glanced at me, his fierce expression draining away to reveal the man I’d come to know. “You’re tired. Why don’t you take a hot bath when we get back and rest up?”

“No!” I shook my head. “Look, I nearly got
shot
back there, and I watched you
break a man’s neck
. I can’t just ‘rest up’ and be better by morning. I-I never thought—”

“You think you know me?” Roger suddenly burst out. A flicker of fire danced in his eyes. “Melissa, you don’t know
shit
about me.”

I stared at him. He sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just—I’m in a lot of pain right now.”

“What are you going to do about that?”

“I’m going to fix myself up.”

“You can do that?”

“This won’t be the first time. It’ll be easier if you’re willing to help. Can you handle it?”

I didn’t like the idea, but I nodded. I wouldn’t leave Roger alone to take care of himself. I had experience fixing up broken people. My sister, for one, came home some nights with mysterious bruises and scrapes. Not to mention my coworkers. They had all experienced some form of violence. No, I wasn’t a stranger to blood or tattered flesh, but my nerves weren’t exactly reliable tonight. I needed a hit, I’d been held at gunpoint, and I’d watched men’s brains actually get blown out of their heads.

“He didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this.” Roger took another turn, which put us on Goddess’s main strip. There was nothing scary here, but the dancing lights didn’t soothe me much. “Okay?”

“I know.”

“He’s not going to apologize, but just know that.”

“I know.” I bit my lip as Roger let out a small moan and cringed. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“Oh, it’s been worse.” He sent me a simper.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often. Like I said, I’m usually his butler.”

I felt guilty. If it weren’t for me, he’d be taking care of Ezekiel’s boring errands like he used to. Roger must have seen the regret in my face, because he smiled again.

“I don’t mind a little action here and there.”

“You don’t mind getting
shot
?”

“I could do without that, actually. But I’m used to putting my life on the line. I’ve been doing that since I was in the military. So don’t worry.”

“At least in the military you were doing it for the good of the country. Now what are you doing it for?”

Roger sobered. “I’m doing it because I have to.”

“What does that mean?”

Roger didn’t answer. I noticed the hotel in the distance, but grew confused when we whipped past it.

“We’re not going to the hotel?” I asked.

“For now, no. Broderick knows we’re staying there. There’s another hotel uptown that’s a bit more low key.”

“But all my things—”

“Don’t worry about it. We can get someone to get everything you need.”

I was dubious, but I nodded. Roger knew what he was doing better than I did.

The new hotel was in a much older part of town, so it was not nearly as extravagant. We parked in a dark garage that was mostly empty, and there was no valet. Roger gave me his credit card and ID and asked me to check in. No one asked questions at the front desk. Afterward I returned to Roger, and together we made an attempt to look as inconspicuous as possible as we headed up the staircase to the second floor, into a room that was about as generic as you could ask for in Goddess. I helped Roger sit on the edge of the bathtub and threw back the cheap vinyl shower curtain.

“Go get my bag. I dumped it by the door.”

I did so, setting it at his feet and unzipping it to find medical supplies inside. He must have kept it in his car in case of a situation like this. I helped Roger out of his jacket and shirt, though we had to slice off his undershirt since he couldn’t lift his arm.

“Cut it off and then tear it into strips,” Roger instructed, wincing as I jostled him slightly. “We can use it as a press. And don’t stab me, please.”

I grew nervous. My hands shook because I needed a hit, and there were a few times I nearly nicked him with the blade. Finally I got the undershirt off, and Roger told me to grab a syringe from the first aid bag.

“A-a syringe?” I gulped. God, could I do this? Seeing the syringe would only make me shake more. A cold sweat started at my brow. I needed a hit
so badly
.

Wake up, Melissa. Roger’s gonna bleed to death if you don’t act now
.

I dove my hand into the bag and pulled out a vinyl case that carried several different sized syringes. My tongue swelled in my mouth as I looked at them. They were beautiful. My heart beat at my ribs, screaming,
Now, get some now
. My head was yelling back,
Take care of Roger, you moron
.

I ripped the smallest syringe out of the packet and showed it to Roger.

“There’s gonna be a brownish-purple bottle in there. You see it?”

“Yes.”

“Stick the needle in and fill it up. Then give it to me.”

I did as he asked, shoving the needle through the skin at the top of the bottle and pulling back the plunger until it had filled. I squeezed out the air bubbles like a pro and turned back to Roger. He grabbed a strip of his dirty undershirt and draped it over his arm.

“Tie me off.”

If there was anything I knew, it was how to tie a tourniquet. I gave Roger the needle and fashioned a tight bow around Roger’s bicep. With nurse-like professionalism, I patted his vein until it rose, then easily skewered it with the needle. My gaze skittered to the inside of my own arm and I had to close my eyes to beat back the desperation.

“Melissa.”

His voice drew me out of my drug-induced lust. I met his stare.

“Throw out the syringe.” When I moved to do so, he grasped my wrist. “And keep it thrown out.”

I bit my lip, slightly ashamed. “Of course.”

I wrapped the syringe in a wad of toilet paper and then tossed the thing in the trash before returning to Roger. I was shaking more now, and I could hardly concentrate. Roger put a hand on my arm to steady me.

“You gonna be all right?”

“You’re asking
me
that?” I tried to smile away my anxiety.

“You’ve gone really pale.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you okay with blood?”

“Enough.” I gulped.

“Okay. There’s gonna be a pair of forceps in that thing. Get them and bring them over here.”

“You want me to pull out the bullet? Myself?”

“I can’t do it. I’m starting to feel a bit woozy.”

Indeed, he was swaying slightly. Geez, talk about fast-acting drugs. I wasn’t sure what I’d injected him with, but it had to be a pretty powerful painkiller. Watching the agony leave his eyes made me want to grab that brownish-purple bottle and inject the whole thing into myself. I bet it felt amazing.

I shook my head.
Keep yourself together, Melissa. Concentrate on something else
. My eyes didn’t want to settle on the blood, and the expression in Roger’s eyes only made me hungry. Something else… My eyes finally settled, though I quickly looked away with a hint of shame.

Okay, your bodyguard is half-naked. Try to ignore it. Don’t stare too much
.

Still. I hadn’t known he was that well toned under those suits. But of course he was. He
was
Ezekiel’s employee, after all. Ezekiel didn’t hire guys who didn’t know what a bench press looked like.