3. Tell

3

TELL

" T witch, twitch, bish."

There are so many times a day I want to slap the shit out of myself.

I don't, because my whole body still hurts.

Which I would be a lot finer with if I weren't on the verge of a total meltdown emotionally. That also means I'm at the limit of how much control I can maintain over my ever-itching OCD.

See, I lost my fix.

The salve to my ticks and quirks.

I know it sounds pathetic. Stupid.

And I really thought I was getting a handle on some of it myself, without her help.

But then I lost Hellena. She let Marco take her in exchange for their not beating me the last inch of the way to death. I almost wish they had.

It would be better than living with knowing that I lost her.

I failed her.

The car swerves a tiny bit as I flash back to that night again—the kicks to my ribs, Hell's screams for them to stop. All that after tumbling down a hillside in my car. Right after the dam burst.

Thanks for that, universe.

Insults and injuries aplenty.

And I am absolutely feeling sorry for myself the whole way out of town the next day. After dragging myself out of the ditch they threw me into, I managed to get back to my old vehicle.

First stop was the only place I knew wouldn't likely be flooded.

An old cabin on the edge of town where I keep a stash of disguises, a car, and medicine. I passed out on the floor there for almost an entire day.

Once I was back on my feet, or at least not face down on the ground, I patched up some of my cuts and took off after them. Hacking what few systems were left with power after the flood gave me a good enough idea of which direction they took out of town.

So I headed south.

The route along the old highway eventually takes me to the interstate, out into less mountainous landscape. Another ping on a camera nearby gets me a snapshot of the line of SUVs that I hope still contains my lover a few hours later.

A few more towns and a lot of grueling computer work later at a small, local library, I find the trail, the last leg of which leads out toward the coast again to a single drive.

Private.

Secluded.

And leading to a massive mansion, fully walled, and likely bristling with a shit ton of security.

Great.

That's when the first wave of nausea and faintness washes over me, nearly bowling me over the wheel. Darkness blurs at the edge of my vision.

Can't stay here. Need to get to safety…

So I turn back, heading back down the state highway, looking for someplace to hole up for the night, to get food.

I make it a half hour before I pass out at the wheel and hit a light post.

When I wake up, I am in bed. Clean. Bandaged.

For a few minutes, I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, one eye swollen shut.

"You look like death took a dump on you." A voice pulls me out of the near-doze of a haze I'm in.

"He actually didn't want me. Threw me back. Catch and release."

"Almost didn't have a choice but to take you back if I hadn't found you in time."

"How did you find me, Nurse Norris?"

"Cute. I felt a disturbance nearby. That feeling that everything is about to go to shit that I always get whenever you show up in my life."

"Ha. Still holding a grudge."

"You almost got me kicked out of the nursing program."

"I almost got both of us killed, actually. But I see your priorities haven't changed."

"And I see that you're still fucking around with dangerous people."

"Who says? Maybe I did this to myself?"

"Ah, so your various personalities have finally started fighting?"

"Nah. It was a mobster."

"Good God, Tyler." Norris sighs, moving to check my pupils with a little flashlight.

"It's Tell."

Norris grimaces, looking over a couple of stitches before responding. "It is, isn't it?"

He hasn't changed a bit since the last time I saw him.

The guy could give Gavin a run for his money in the ‘broad and ruggedly handsome' category. Only Norris is a few inches taller and has the skin of a Nubian god. Not to mention the clean-shaven, perfect jaw of a supermodel.

Once upon a time, I could have stared at him for hours…

Okay, I still could.

But I'm helplessly in love with Hellena, so it's nothing like it once was. I'm not like I once was.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Norris folds his hands, giving me that old side-eye. "I grabbed my bag and ran for the door as soon as you called."

"I called?"

"Not consciously. Your sense of self-preservation must have kicked in. Dialed my number before going totally comatose."

"Or I've just got really lucky butt-dialing skills."

"Not funny, Tell. I was running for the door the second you called and I didn't even realize what I was doing. It was knee-jerk. You know how frustrating that is, to realize I still care that much after all these years?"

"You would've come regardless of who it is. That's who you are, Norris."

"A sucker?"

"A hero. A healer."

"You never let me be either for you." The hurt in his voice is a tiny, razor-sharp dagger in my chest. But it feels way longer to me. So much has happened.

"I wasn't… the best version of me back then."

"That was always your excuse. What's changed?"

"Hellena."

"Why do I get the impression that it's you who has the hero complex now?"

"That… is totally Gavin's fault. He rubbed off on me."

"Oh, really?"

"Not like… well, a little like that, but not like you think. She's the… well, I mean, Evan and I… ah, fuck." I chuckle, flopping my head back on the pillow.

"I think you need to sleep. And then you need to tell me a story or two. But only about her. And… them? Whatever criminal bullshit you're on now, you can keep to yourself." Norris smiles that smooth, charming grin. Pausing in the doorway, he turns back.

"Thanks for bailing me out, Nor."

"Thank me by getting better quickly."

The sleep is sound, deep, and dreamless.

Only when I feel the tug of wakefulness do I see her face, Hella, my goddess. Her lips speak my name, but no sound comes out. Her hands reach for me, but I can't tell if she's reaching for help or reaching to save me.

Until she shifts, moving away, and I see that she's shunning me, her palms outturned.

And her eyes are cold.

Empty.

That blue-gray that once held all of the passion and love…

Now they are as icy as the ocean.

Snapping my eyes open, I sigh, my breath shuddering out of me. Rising up in bed takes me a few minutes of stiff, grunting pain. Then I just sit there in the early morning on the edge of the bed, letting the cold sweat on my forehead dry, the sick sensation in my core subside.

The house is quiet, cool.

It's a cute little two-bedroom. No clue where, exactly.

Looking around the small living area, I take in the decor. Warm, well-designed. Norris always loved his creature comforts and had an eye for interior design. A plush couch, enough pillows to make sitting on it impossible.

Several minutes of finagling with the coffee maker later, and I'm swallowed up by those pillows with a steaming cup in hand.

And completely exhausted.

The smell of bacon perks me up.

Oops. Fell asleep.

"I thought you snuck out when I first woke up." Norris chuckles, eyeing me over the bar as he stirs something in a pan.

"Your pillow monster couch ate me whole."

"It's a dangerous creature."

"Yeah. No wonder you never make it through the end of any movie."

"Or it could be that I work sixteen-hour shifts."

"Touché."

The mood is light as I dig my way out of the couch and plop down gingerly on a stool. It's a strange, not-quite-tense, not-quite-comfortable, but not-at-all-awkward morning. Breakfast. Coffee.

And before I know it, I'm unloading on my old friend, the past few months of utter insanity after a brief summary of the years since I saw him.

Of course, I leave out anything to do with the Sinful. Evan's job, Gavin's job, the Ball, Hellena's shooting, Alaya's attacks, the mysterious discoveries surrounding Hell's dad…

So it's a story chock full of gaping holes.

But he's always careful about what he asks and never digs where the subject might lead into violent waters.

Plausible deniability?

Or just a wise decision.

Too many of the people I've worked with and for could and would try to use Norris' and my friendship against me. It's the main reason I disappeared those years before in New York, didn't tell him where I was going. Because I worried he might want to follow.

And in the years since, it seems he's gained a sense of wariness.

A very keen sense.

Even so, there's more than enough to paint a very bad picture.

"So basically, you pissed off a very bad man and he nearly killed you for it?"

"Yeah. And it gets worse.'

Norris rubs his forehead before nodding, giving me permission to continue.

"That bad man took Hellena. She let him. To save my life."

"And then you went gallivanting after them with fractured ribs and possible internal injuries by yourself."

"That makes it sound way less heroic."

"Tell. If she chose to go with him, what makes you think following them will do any good?"

"Because I have to make sure she's safe, Norris. At least that much."

"After everything you've said, though, what makes you think this guy would hurt her at all? Sounds like he wants her for some reason."

"I mean. Yeah. But that reason is as fucked up as the rest of this mess," I argue.

"Worse than kidnapping and assault? Fantastic."

"Try, he's her ex-stepdad and he wants to make her his wife to gain access to her legacy."

Norris blinks, opening his mouth a few times before palming his face with a slap. After a few seconds of flabbergasted silence, his shoulders drop and he gives me a no-nonsense look.

"You have to go check on her. You have to rescue her." It's more of a begrudged admission than a commanding statement.

"I really do."

"You were always incredible at putting on a face. Do you know where they're keeping her?"

"I think so. I found a place that fits the bill just outside of Port Oxford. I'll need to scope the place out first, case it. Once I figure out if she's there for sure, then I'll do what I do best. I'll find a way in."

"Just like that."

"Yeah, minus a million details that I haven't started working out yet. No doubt, Marco will have a hundred fucking guards in that fortress."

"I can't believe I am about to say this, but I want to help."

"No fucking way," I protest, straightening and instantly regretting it.

"Your car is totaled, so you'll need me to drive. Your body is a mess, so you'll need me to patch you up and keep you on pain meds while also keeping you lucid."

"Damn, when you put it that way…"

"And I have an idea of how you might get in once you find the place."

Three damn days later, I feel worlds better.

Mostly thanks to Norris's expert administering of some probably not so legally obtained pain meds. I owe him so much.

I also owe fate, or some ancient deity, for my absolutely unbelievable luck.

Just the fact that Norris moved out to the West Coast a year ago is enough to make me wonder if someone is still pulling strings in my life like the Sinful always did. Added to the fact that he's a nurse and was nearby when I crashed.

Fucking wild.

What's not wild or surprising is the way he gets shit done.

He stocked up on goods, bandages, and a lot of the materials I would need to scope out Marco's without even having to ask.

Scoping out Marco's took a couple of tries over a couple of days.

But it pays off.

With a fair knowledge of the area from hiking just about every trail available, Norris helped me find a vantage point to watch the mansion. And the second afternoon, just at sunset…

I see her through my binoculars.

Stepping from the doorway in a bedroom on the second floor, the curtains pulled back to just show me part of the doorway and the four-poster bed.

She's drying her hair, wrapped in a soft robe.

She looks a little haggard and tired.

But she's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

Studying her as she sits on the edge of the bed, I notice the bruises, dark spots on her arms. It's no surprise that she would resist. What I can't figure out is why she's in this rich, opulent room.

Maybe they just roughed her up at first.

A few hours later, she's fast asleep in bed.

I can't bring myself to leave, even when Norris calls me and orders me to go home, to sleep. But there's no way I'm letting her out of my sight until I see her awake, get some clue as to her wellbeing, her status.

I'm nodding off near dawn when I see them come into her room.

They grab her, drag her out.

The last I see of her is downstairs, through a window, kicking and screaming.

It's everything I can do not to yell, to run toward the wall below and try to kill every one of the bastards inside.

I know that won't do her any good.

In my emotionally-addled state, I stagger back down the trail, back to Norri's Subaru.

On the drive home, I get an idea, right in line with Norris's idea from the other night.

"His name is Doctor Oxy."

"Last or first?" I tease.

"I assume it's a family name," Norris quips. "Rumor has it he treats all sorts of lowlifes around here. He used to work at my hospital, but he quit when allegations of drug use and shady prescriptions came up."

"I think I see where you're going with this. Does he do house calls?"

"Something like that. There's been a lot of drug users popping up at the hospital over the past year, one of the reasons I was able to get a good position at such an in-demand hospital. Their staff was leaving because it's gotten dangerous all along the West Coast."

"That would be Marco's influence."

"Whoever is at fault, we started noticing the criminals stopped coming in a month or two back."

"Like they're getting help elsewhere."

"Right. So I got a little curious. Did some digging."

"Norris, that sounds downright dangerous."

"I'm just watching out for my community. I like it here. I don't want some Mob doctor creating a waystation for killers in my back yard."

"There's my dark white knight."

Norris raises one eyebrow, making a face. I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I see the faintest hint of a smile pull at his lips as he continues.

"He's holed up in a motel on the edge of town. I was able to get a number from a girl who came into the hospital. She said he wouldn't see her because she was pregnant. Said it wasn't his "wheelhouse" to get involved with broke gangsters' baby mommas."

"So maybe she just couldn't afford him?"

"Spot on. She also said he looked like he was hurting. Sweaty. Shaky."

"Interesting. The good doctor needs some medicine of his own. Good bargaining chip."

"So, what do we do, call him?" Norris shrugs. "We're getting into espionage territory, here."

"No need to call him yet. First, I want to find out if he's gotten any calls from out near the water, made any house calls to see Marco's guys."

"Or one of his guests," Norris adds under his breath.

Hacking the cell tower nearby is a simple program.

One I've used before.

And what a shock. Ol' Doc made a call to a number a few times over the past few weeks. He also got a few texts from a few different numbers asking for "checkups" at his earliest convenience.

The odds that it's Marco's guys making those requests is worth the risk.

It's just past midnight when I rap on the door of Room 218 at the Dapper Inn. It's anything but.

"The fuck you want?"

"Need… help." I put on Jack today, a thug with a penchant for stealing.

"Fuck off. Nothing here for you."

"Doc Ox… please. I heard you can help guys like me." I keep my voice down, not wanting to raise any flags if some of his people are crashing at the inn.

After a long pause, the door opens a fraction, totally dark inside except for the barrel of a gun.

"I. Said. Leave."

"I got money."

"I don't give a shit. Get outta here, you junkie trash." The door starts to close…

"I'm holding."

Pause.

"Get in here. Keep yer mouth shut."

A lamp clicks on, bathing the ratty apartment in dull light. Wish it were darker so I wouldn't have to see the water-stained walls, the peeling wallpaper, the carpet that's probably more bio-material than fabric at this point.

"Sit. I'll get my kit."

He's mid-fifties. Looks older in the eyes because of the drugs.

His sagging gut and jowls tell me that mimicking him won't be easy. But I've pulled off much harder sells.

Worth a shot.

Taking a seat across from me, he spreads out his kit. It's clean, at least. Tidy.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Got a beating a while back. Think something's broken inside." I suppress a cough. The flinch at the pain is far from faked.

"Breathe in. Out." He listens for a few moments. "You may have a bit of fluid. But the rest of these wounds, you already got stitched up. Why the fuck are you really here?"

"I need a favor."

"I don't do favors."

"Even for… this?" I slip the pill case out, spilling two of the three dozen tablets onto the table.

I see his eyes light up instantly.

Right before they narrow on me maliciously. Suspiciously.

"How did you come by so many, so new?"

"Guy who stitched me up. He worked in a pain clinic in Montana. Just got fired, took the place for everything they had on hand and filled a pad before he left."

"Damn. I'd almost believe you if that could be remotely true. Cops would have been on him in a second."

"Town in the middle of nowhere. Family pharmacy. But you don't really care where I got these, do you?"

Doctor Oxy sighs, leaning back, eyeing the pills. "Tell me what you really want."

"I need to get in to see your patient out at the mansion on the water."

His eyes instantly go wide, his lip quivering slightly.

"No way. Those guys find out I had anything to do with anything against?—"

"Marco. I know," I grunt, leaning forward and dropping the act.

Oxy sniffs disdainfully. "Who the fuck… nah. I don't care. No way you get into that place."

"I do if you send me on your behalf the next time they need you to check on her."

It's a gamble, a risk revealing even that much. But I see the glint of recognition in his eyes, just a flash.

"I can get you another three dozen." If I can get ahold of my guy in Portland…

The tiniest gasp slips through his dry lips.

Got him.

"All I need is a way in. I want to check on her, get the lay of the place."

"And you ain't taking anything? Not trying to sneak her out?"

"Not your concern."

"It is if they figure out what you did. That I sent you there and you do something stupid."

"Oh, don't worry, Doc. I won't be going in as myself. As far as they know… It'll be you."