Chapter 24

Coincidence and luck, nothing more than that. Cibrán didn't know who these two were, how they'd managed to track them down, nor why they did. But it was a stroke of luck Frederico had been standing near the door when they arrived. He disliked luck. He disliked these people. Hell, he disliked all people.

He noticed the man going around the hotel. The woman walked towards the main entrance, strong and confident.

Bitch.

Quick-witted, he assessed the situation. The girl behind the desk was gone, the lobby empty. Frederico and the bags over there. No time to retrieve a knife or Frederico's gun.

No.

No guns.

Don't ever use a gun.

Never again.

But she wouldn't know that. She knew about the knives and the gun. She didn't know he'd never use a gun. He took the Bic lighter from the coffee-table and motioned for Frederico to take the bags and move into the corner behind him, then he hid himself next to the entry.

Here we go.

He grabbed her around her waist, pulled her to him forcefully and pushed the lighter in her back.

She feels nice...

"Make a sound, and you're dead bitch."

He noticed the slight movements of her muscles.

"Don't," he added. "Don't move another muscle or I'll shoot."

He heard Frederico move next to him. "Get the bags and go outside. The bastardo went around the back, the street's safe. But if he does show up, we still got her."

He dragged her along with him, backwards, outside. Good thing - luck, again? - the hotel lay in a slow street.

"Don't move," he whispered in her ear. He then told Frederico to scramble. His brother turned, looked behind once again, then ran around the corner.

"Bye, bye, bitch..." [MB]

Cibrán shoved her away and took off running, a different direction than his brother.

.

Clarice's knees slammed into the pavement and a cry wrenched from her lips as pain exploded in both kneecaps. Eyes watering, she looked up and caught site of her abductor's back before he disappeared around a corner.

She attempted to stand, ready to pursue him, but her knees buckled under her own weight and she fell back onto the pavement, landing on her bottom with an undignified grunt. "Son of a bitch."

Hannibal came around the corner just as she repeated it with more fervor. "Son of a bitch!"

He rushed to her side and with gentle hands rolled up her slacks on one leg then the other. Each kneecap was bloody and already swelling and purpling. "Oh, my dear. I do so look forward to catching these two." His hands were steady as he carefully swabbed her wounds with a clean handkerchief, but rage blazed in his eyes.

Amazingly, the street remained deserted.

She looked up at him, eyes still damp. "I can't believe that just happened. And I can't believe he left me."

"A most unwise decision," he agreed. "I'm still going to kill him. Slowly."

She managed a grin. "Not if I do it first." Then she groaned as he lifted her up and started to carry her back to the car. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, "You know, I think the brother I just encountered, I don't think he's our killer. At least not the instigator of the killings- though, maybe he helps." They reached the BMW and Hannibal helped her into the passenger seat with careful movements. "I think if it had been the other one who grabbed me, I'd be dead now. Guess those two aren't the only ones with luck." [D]

She pulled him closer and kissed him passionately.

"No use trying to find them now, they could be anywhere. Let's get back to the hotel - my knees need attention, and maybe other parts, too..."

"I like that thought, and I'd like to get you back as soon as possible. But do you think you could hold on for a few moments? I'd like to have a look in their room."

"Hm.. yeah, I'll manage. You go ahead."

"I'll be back in a jiffy, my Love," he replied as he gently caressed her cheek. He then carefully closed the passenger door and went into the hotel.

.

"Not much to see, I'm afraid," he simply stated as he took his seat behind the wheel. "I found some scraps of cardboard verifying our assumption they're hitchhiking, but nothing more of interest."

"And it proves we caught them unaware, a chance encounter."

"Correct. They already were in the lobby, having checked out only a moment ago."

"Okay. Now - hotel, please? I need ice for my knees and fire for my loins..." [MB]

.

Arms slung around his neck, Clarice laughed as Hannibal managed to carry her through the door of their hotel room without bumping either her back or her bruised knees on the doorframe. "You did that like a pro. The perfect groom," she said.

He smiled at her and gently placed her on the bed. "You, my beautiful bride, are perfection. Though you've been much beleaguered. I'm going to strip the flesh from those brothers and make crackling."

She released a soft snort. "Okay. Well, yuck. But by all means, whatever makes you happy." She laid her head back on the soft pillow, looking up at him.

He gave her a sly grin. "Thank you for that, love. But for now, I'll make you happy." He settled onto his side on the bed next to her, careful not the bounce the mattress and aggravate her injuries. He sighed in pleasure, happy to be here with her in this moment, grateful for her safety. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he swallowed and met her eyes. "I could have lost you today."

She brought the fingers of one hand to his chin and traced his jawline while staring into his eyes. "But you didn't. We're still here. It's still you and me. Together."

Their lips met, a quiet, soft kiss. Then his mouth traveled down her neck, placing tender kisses as he breathed in her scent. After several long moments, reluctant, he pulled himself away. "We need to get those knees taken care of."

She pursed her lips but didn't argue. He suspected they pained her more than she would admit.

He stood up and pulled her pants from her, careful with the material so it didn't drag across her open wounds. Both knees were scraped and seeping blood, the skin mottled red and purple. He crossed the room to the bathroom and tossed her ruined pants into the rubbish bin. He pulled antiseptic wipes and pain pills from the first aid kit he always kept at hand, poured a glass of water, and returned to her.

She sat up just enough to swallow the pills, then settled back down. He cleaned her wounds well, placing kisses on the unbroken skin of each knee, just above the bruises.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and smiled down at him. "I was a very small child the last time somebody kissed my boo-boos better."

His lips trailed higher up her right thigh. "Well, Mrs. Spreeuw, I hope you are not feeling childlike in this moment."

A throaty laugh escaped her. "Actually, not at all."

He smiled against her leg, then sat up. "You need ice." Abruptly he stood up, picked up the ice bucket, and left the room.

Clarice sighed in frustration. Damn, infuriating man.

Minutes later he returned. He placed a towel across her knees and placed baggies of packed ice on top. She closed her eyes, admitting to herself she was glad for his ministrations. The throbbing pain ebbed, replaced by cool numbness.

Her eyes shot open as he nudged an ice cube against a very specific place. "Hannibal!" [D]

"I said ice for my knees and fire for my loins!" [MB]