One Wrong Move (19 page)

Hugging him afterward, during his meltdown. He still hadn’t recovered from that. His dick was still tingling. More than half hard.

She’d been nice to him. Nicer than he deserved. His words echoed in his ears. Made him feel like dog shit.

Aw, fuck. He was not cut out for this, wanted no part of it. The impulse almost choked him. The declaration got past the road-blocks by brute force, hurting his throat as it came out. “Sorry,”

he snarled.

She glanced at him, tight-lipped. “For what?”

He shrugged. “For what I said.”

“Hmmph,” she grunted. She gave him an assessing look.

“God, that must have cost you.”

“Already regretting it,” he said, through his teeth.

“Stop!” She held up her hand. “Hold it right there. Don’t spoil it. Or your heroic efforts will have been in vain.”

He didn’t recognize the convulsive explosions bursting out of his nose and mouth for a moment. Then he realized it was laughter.

He tried to choke it off. It wouldn’t stop. Then Nina started up with it, too, and he was fucked.

They snorted and giggled helplessly for about five minutes before the convulsions died down into a tense, charged silence once again.

But it was different now. The laughter had softened something inside him. He could almost, well . . . breathe. Sort of.

Nina seemed to be still waiting. For explanations, excuses.

He fidgeted, and took a stab at it. “Didn’t seem like such a big deal, at the time,” he said. “If it made her happy to think I was all set with a woman. And to be honest, since you like honesty so much, I was using a language that you don’t speak. So I thought you’d never know.”

“Ah.” She chewed her lower lip, subdued. “I see.”

It occurred to him, though he’d have cut out his tongue rather than admit it, that he’d kind of enjoyed the harmless fiction while it was happening, if enjoyment was a word that made sense in such a grim context. Bringing a girlfriend to meet his aunt.

Showing her he’d found a woman who, amazingly, tolerated him.

Who, miraculously, wanted to be with him. Letting Aunt Tonya enjoy the fond fiction that he had, well, hell. A future, of some sort. A life, to look forward to.

The discomfort that followed upon that thought was sharp to the point of pain. He flinched away from it.

“I need to go check in,” he said brusquely. “It’s better if I go alone. The less we’re seen together, the better.” He pulled the Micro Glock out and handed it to her. “Take this. No safety. Just point and shoot.”

She waved it away. “No, thanks. I’m not comfortable with it.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He shoved the gun into his pocket again.

“Lock the door,” he snapped. “Do your invisible thing. Do it hard.”

She nodded.

The checkin process was swift, fortunately, because he would have ground his teeth to nubs if he’d had to wait long in line with Nina alone in the parking lot. But in a few minutes they’d taken possession of a hotel room. He laid his duffel on the bed. Tossed his jacket.

Nina stood in the entry hall as if awaiting permission to take up space. Her face was pale, eyes huge. So tense, she felt compelled to cover those tits with the purse so he wouldn’t see them bob and sway.

Too late. He’d seen it. He’d see it in his dreams. Forever.

I could fix that. Relax you like you’ve never been relaxed before.

Sit on it, horndog. He’d accepted “no.” Resigned himself.

Then she complicated things by sitting on his lap, pressing her ass against his erection. Petting him until he practically hyper-ventilated.

But she’d said no. It would be lower than dirt to pressure her now. But oh, man, it was hard. Rock hard. He tore his gaze away, and it landed on a pile of local restaurant menus, which reminded him that there was more to his body than an engorged cock. He hadn’t eaten since early West Coast morning, and little enough then. Food might steady them. He rifled through menus, grabbed the phone. “Pizza OK?”

She looked affronted. “How can you think about food now?”

“You intend to fast until things are back to normal?”

She shook her head, resolute. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

He called the pizza place, ordered a large cheese pie delivered to the room, in case she changed her mind. He longed for a cold beer to wash it down, but he had no business touching anything that could lower his inhibitions. Damn. He knew he could make her like it. He’d turned her on in the taxi. He’d seen it in her eyes, felt it crackle in the air. She’d been interested, intrigued.

Freaked out and confused, sure, but curious as hell. White-hot for him. Trying to keep it hidden.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw it. Himself, on top of her luscious spread-out body. Mounted up. Riding hard.

He had to redirect the blood flow in his body, fast. He pulled out his smartphone, pulled up the file Nina had sent. Had to put that unruly mind to work, before it fucked him up.

“. . . give me that!”
It was Nina’s recorded voice, but sharp and tense.

“Oh, my God. You’re going to translate that right now?”

Nina’s exclamation covered the scuffle that followed, and Aaro paused the recording. “Yeah, so shut up,” he said tersely. “I need to concentrate. Go do something else. Quietly. So you won’t be tempted to interrupt me.”

Nina tossed down her bag and sat on the bed opposite him, open challenge in her steady gaze. “I’m staying right here.”

He sighed. So much for his distraction. “Suit yourself, but keep it zipped. I’m going to listen through, start to finish. Don’t ask questions until I’m done. Hell, maybe you’ll even understand Ukrainian now.”

“I doubt that,” Nina said.

He ran it back, hit “play” again.
“. . . give me that!”

A squeaking, panting scuffle, and then Nina’s sharp yelp, as the needle jabbed her. He’d been braced for it, but it still made him wince.

There was a moment of near silence, just a thudding sound, ragged breathing, and Nina spoke again.
“Helga,” she said, hoarsely.

“Oh, God. Helga? What was . . . wha—why did you do that? Wha—

what the fuck was in that needle?”

“Yes, that is good, you remember me, Nina!”
It was Kasyanov now, speaking Ukrainian, her voice shrill and quivering.
“You must do
exactly as I say! I will die today, so I cannot advise you again. It is too
late for me to get the second dose, but not for you. It has to be you to help
me, Nina. You have the talent. I sensed it when you were a child. You
have enough control of your psychic abilities to handle this much enhancement, and I must enhance you. Someone must stop Rudd, and help
my Lara. Forgive me, Nina. Please, forgive me.”

He clicked on “stop,” unnerved. He looked up at Nina.

“You understand anything she’s saying?” he asked.

Nina shook her head, and he could see from the expectant look on her face she truly didn’t. If she had, it would have scared the shit out of her. He let out a slow, measured breath. Pushed “play.”

“I must inject you with a dose of concentrated simax,”
Kasyanov went on.
“It would kill most others, but not you, my dear. You will experience strange, frightening effects before you settle. I cannot predict
what they will be; it is different for everyone. But you must get the B dose
in time. You have three days, maybe four, before your mind breaks down,
like mine has. I tried to stop Rudd, but I failed. Forgive me for forcing
you to this task, my dear. I have no choice. You do not deserve this, but
Rudd took my Lara, and he will kill her if you do not help. Rudd forced
me to produce this drug. It is called simax. He wanted a formula to stabilize the psi, and I created one, finally, but I made it a binary dose. Two
parts, understand? I offered Rudd the A dose, but I hid the B doses. I
meant to make them let Lara go for their second doses. But they injected
me with one of the A doses, instead! I took the last two A doses with me
when I escaped, but I hid the B doses before I—

“What have you done to her, you crazy bitch?”
It was a man’s voice, Ukrainian, with the accent of Odessa. A cigarette-roughened rasp, sharp with outrage.
“You didn’t say you were going to kill her!”

“. . . for graves!
Helga was shouting over the man’s interruption, the word “graves” inexplicably in English.
I sent a letter to
Joseph,”
Kasyanov continued her desperate, unbroken gabbling in Ukrainian.
“You should see him there. Wycleff Library. Understand?

Inside it! Watch for graves! So dangerous, the most dangerous of all!

You have to go to—”

“Get away from her! I am not going to jail for this!”
The man, again.

“I am not trying to hurt her, you idiot! Listen to me, Nina. I am
putting the other A dose into your purse now. It is of no use to me now. I
am dying. But you might be able to use it as a bargaining chip.”

“She can’t understand you, you fucking lunatic!”
the driver bellowed.

“Her phone is recording me, you fat fool, and she will find a translator. Shut up. She is fainting. Help me get her into the car.”

“Oh, fuck, oh, fuck,”
the guy moaned. His breath got shorter as he presumably heaved Nina’s body into his car.
“I’m going to jail
for this.”

Kasyanov’s monologue was covered by Yuri’s scolding and yelling. He strained to identify the words.
“Graves,”
she repeated, in English again. “
Get the B dose, Nina. Wycleff Library. You
have three days, maybe four. I’m already on day five, but . . . Nina, do
you hear me? Nina, wake up! Please, oh, please . . .”

A strange choking sound began, and from then on, nothing else useful could be deciphered. The driver started shouting, in what sounded like total panic. After a minute or so of chaos, the recording abruptly ended.

Aaro couldn’t look up for a minute. He groped for words.

Someplace to begin that wouldn’t scare her. But there was no such place. There were no such words.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Nina’s voice was carefully even.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

“The drug she gave me. Is it the same thing that killed her?”

“Sounds that way,” he said reluctantly. “It also sounds like schizophrenic rambling. I would dismiss it as bullshit, if not for all the strange things happening to you today.”

“What is the drug?” She looked like an ice sculpture.

He shook his head. “Not clear, from the recording,” he said.

“Something she developed herself. I’m guessing it’s this simax that the zombie goon was talking about. She says it’s a binary formula.”

Nina blinked. “Meaning?”

“Meaning you take the A dose, and then you take the B dose that completes the process,” he explained. “Kasyanov was injected with the first dose against her will. She was unable to get the second dose in time. She says, uh . . .” He hesitated. “You need it within three days.”

“Ah. And what happened to Aunt Helga was the result of not getting the B dose in time? Convulsions, coma, internal hemorrhaging? That’s what I have to look forward to?”

“If you don’t get the second dose. If what she says is true.”

“It’s true,” Nina said. “She had nothing to gain by lying.”

He nodded. It felt true to him, too. No point denying it. “One more weird thing,” he said. “She said that the other A dose is in your purse. That you might be able to use it as a bargaining chip.”

“My purse?” Nina’s eyes got very big. She lunged for the bag that lay on the bed beside her, ripping stuff out and tossing it onto the coverlet. Her rummaging hand stopped suddenly, and she slowly drew out a cylinder of rolled-up bubble wrap. She peered into the end.

“Here it is,” she said, her voice hollow. “But this isn’t the dose that I’m supposed to find and take, right?”

He took it from her, and peered at it. Five cc’s of innocuous, colorless liquid. Son of a bitch. “No,” he said. “It’s another A dose. She said she took the A doses with her when she ran. It’s not clear where the B doses are. She starts to tell you, but it’s gar-bled, there are interruptions. It’s hard to make out.”

“Why did she attack me?” Her voice was so rigidly controlled, it sounded robotic. “Did she explain?”

Aaro’s jaw twinged, pain stabbing mercilessly up into his ear.

Goddamn irritated nerve. “I’ll just type it out for you, and you can—”

“Just give me the gist of it, Aaro!”

He closed his eyes. “It’s bad,” he said. “It sounds like she’s sending you off on a fucking quest. She was forced to produce a drug for this guy, Rudd. I assume the stuff they were talking about at your house. Simax. It’s a drug that, uh, enhances you.

That was how she put it. Though it’s not clear what exactly she means by enhancement.”

“I think I can venture a guess,” Nina said. “After what’s happened today.”

He shrugged. “Anyhow. Her daughter is being held hostage.

She wants you to save her daughter, and stop this guy Rudd, the one who took her daughter. I guess, injecting you is . . . incentive.”

“Incentive.” She frowned, blinking rapidly. “I see. So now, it’s just a small matter of saving Lara, who I haven’t seen since I was seventeen, and stopping, what, a criminal mastermind? Before I die of brain meltdown? In three days? Right? That’s about all of it?”

“Yeah.” He coughed. “That’s about all. You know. No biggie.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Don’t you dare make me laugh, or you know I’ll start to sob,” she warned, from behind her fingers. “And you will be screwed, Aaro. This is so not funny.”

“Course not!” he agreed hastily. “Serious as . . .” He choked it off.

Her face convulsed. “As death?” she said, voice shaking. “Go on. Say it, you big chickenshit.”