(Warning: spoiler alerts for Book 2 of the Prey Series)
9
She just watched him for a minute. Lucas honestly didn't know what to say. What'd happened to him? Of course, he knew he'd gone into a panic attack. Never had one before, not like this. He used to make fun of the whole idea.
Not anymore, not after that.
It'd gripped him like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he never wanted to feel like that again. The closest he'd ever come was after the shotgun: wrapped with tape and shoved against his head behind his ear. Taped against his head, like a package of death he couldn't escape. Remembered screaming: "Get it off! Get it off!"
Sometimes he could still feel the steel on the back of his head there. And he'd wake in a cold, cold sweat, out of his dream. Less now, over the last year. But still there. Coulda been dead that time…
He started to think about Jules, then – and that thing she'd done with him.
Couldn't figure it out. Felt like some kinda magic trick to get him to calm down. But after that, he'd just gone away. Not asleep, but away. More than an hour, gone.
Jesus! It felt like a scary thing, having his head in her hands like that. He was sure that if she'd wanted to, she could have twisted his neck and killed him right there on his couch. Didn't particularly like people getting that close – except in bed, of course – that was allowed.
He lifted his eyes to her. Framed in the light from the sun. Too bright to even look at her. He shielded his eyes and grabbed for her wrist.
"Look, I don't know what just happened to me – us. I mean I know what happened before – the attack – but I don't know what all that other stuff was about." He stopped to wait for her to speak.
"It's hard to talk about it, Lucas, in regular words. But it's what I do. I'm not much for talking in these sessions. It's more just like this." He didn't know what to say.
She glanced around for a clock, then saw his watch on his wrist.
"What time is it, Lucas?"
"Noon, just before," he said.
"I've gotta go. We'll meet again on Monday. I'll call you and leave a message about where to meet. Ten is good, right?" He nodded, and Jules got up to go. He still had her by the wrist.
Lucas pulled her in close to him. Felt her breath on his lips.
"Lucas." She said it softly, but like a warning, too. He leaned in but didn't touch her yet. They could feel the warmth of each other's skin on theirs. Jules could feel the heat rising off him, too.
"Push me away – if you don't want me to kiss you," he whispered.
Her hands came up to his chest, and she shoved him back a step. He wrapped her hands in his, pulled her close again. This time her arms were on his chest, and she could hold him away.
"This isn't going to happen, Lucas," in a calm, clear voice. He frowned.
"Why?"
"I'm a doctor. You're my patient. We don't cross that line." Lucas looked stunned for a second; then started to grin:
"You're fired! I'll tell them – it didn't work out. Get somebody else," and he pulled her in, his cheek just touching against hers.
"I don't want to hurt you, Lucas." He half-grinned.
"What did you have in mind, Doc?" he whispered, close to her ear.
When he didn't let her hands go, Jules slipped a knee to the inner side of his – started pressing over a very particular point near the joint.
He felt only the pressure, first. But he didn't back down.
Then, she leaned a little harder and it changed to some kind of mild discomfort. He hung onto her hands. More pressure – that just started to cross into some pain. He could take it. Didn't back down. Neither did she.
Steady increase at his knee. Starting to feel sharper now, the edge of her kneecap drilling into the spot on the side of his knee.
A point was about to be reached, he could feel it, where the pain would shoot off like a rocket – excruciating, sharp, exquisite pain. Coming.
He let her hands go. And her knee withdrew immediately.
The point continued to throb for a while. Lucas stepped back, limping a step and hands raised.
"Free to go," he said. She nodded; her eyes clear.
They'd come to an understanding now.
Barbara Gow had loaned him her truck for the day. Leo sat in the cab of the truck, sipping coffee out of a paper cup. A block away, he saw the cop, Davenport, coming out of his house with a woman. They talked for a minute, while they walked to a car parked in the front of the house. Then he held the door for her while she got in. He saw her wave and then drive away.
Davenport jumped into his own car then, the fancy one, and headed out the same way. Leo started up and rolled out after him. The truck shuddered some when the speed went over 40 or so, and his coffee sloshed out of the top of the cup and puddled on the floor, little ripples forming on top. It'd seen better days, decades ago.
Leo made sure he hung back enough so he wouldn't be noticed. They were headed downtown, then over to the western side. Little shops crowded together on one side, and a supermarket with a lot and a coffee shop on the other.
Davenport pulled in, so quick that all he could do was to pass him by and look for a spot on the street. Something grabbed his attention. That same woman, the one from in front of his house back there – she was getting out of her car on the right.
He pulled in on the left, in a No Parking Zone. Left the engine running. He saw her reaching into her car and coming out with a duffel bag in her hands, throwing the handle over a shoulder and locking her door. He watched her head for the sidewalk and back up the street. Passed maybe three or four stores, and then she turned into one. Some kind of Chinese writing on the front.
Leo twisted around. Behind him, the fancy car with Davenport inside, still there at the curb. Leo watched him – checking out that same store where the woman had gone. Seemed like he'd followed her there.
Davenport got out of his car and walked down the street in his direction but stopped and ducked into that coffee shop – opposite side of the street as the Chinese place. He ducked down lower in his seat. Took a few sips from his cup, before the stuff got too old to drink and turned off the engine. This could take a while.
Lucas ordered a large coffee and two donuts.
"To stay, or to go?" the kid asked.
"To stay." A few minutes later, he shoved a large styrofoam cup over the counter and two of the plain brown donuts wrapped in a crinkly paper. He headed back to the front door and parked himself on a chair near the window. Decent view into the Kung Fu studio across the way.
He'd seen her pull her bag out of the seat and head inside. Saw her come out of the back a few minutes later, dressed in a tee and shorts. They were doing some kind of warm-up routine for a while, and then the whole group broke into two lines facing each other.
Each pair would practice a move, punching and blocking, punching and blocking, and then they'd change and do it again with the other one punching into the block. An instructor walked the line, reaching in every once in a while to make a change, correct something.
He noticed Jules had ended up with some kinda heavyweight. Some guy with a neck bigger than her thigh. No joke. And he seemed to be taking it to her. She didn't back down.
Lucas could see the snap in his punch. But Jules didn't flinch or back away. Interesting. Had a way of deflecting the punch somehow. It didn't push her back or throw her off her feet. Even though the guy was bigger and stronger, he couldn't seem to throw her off her line.
Jesus! Good thing he hadn't pressed her more than he did, back at the house. She'd have handed him his head.
They were at it for more than an hour and a half. He'd finished both of his donuts, and the full cup of his large coffee and half of a regular-sized one after that. Felt buzzed after. Ran into the men's room and back, before Jules had packed up her stuff. He saw her bow toward the back, twice, and then turn around and head out of the door, waving to some of the people inside.
At the door, Jules stopped on the sidewalk. She glanced up, and scanned across the street, like she was looking for someone. Looked right into the window where he was sitting, and he ducked to one side. Then she turned down the street for her car.
Lucas moved and headed for his own on the street. Still light outside, early afternoon. Wasn't long before he could tell she was driving back to her hotel. He swung around to the back so she wouldn't see his car and waited there.
The lights went on in her room. He'd seen her tee plastered to her skin after her class and imagined she'd be taking a shower. Still amazed. For a smaller, compact build like hers, he was surprised how well she could take those punches. It wasn't about raw power at all. She had a way of turning her body and taking the punch, somehow. Wasn't karate or judo. Something else.
Maybe she'd explain it to him, sometime. Seemed to fit with her style. Didn't get pushed off her mark, and he had the sore knee to prove it.
Wasn't even forty-five minutes later, when the lights went off in her room up there. Lucas started up the Porsche and drove all the way around the building – on the opposite side of the entrance – where he could keep an eye on the lobby.
She appeared a few minutes later, with two soft luggage bags over her shoulders, walking fast. Into her car, and then she was off. Looked like she was leaving for the weekend if he had to guess.
Lucas thought about his own prep then. Had his own bag in the back, with a towel, toiletries, a couple of tees, and some shorts. Sneakers in there, too, he remembered. Could probably make do with that, depending on where she was going.
He smiled to himself. The chase continued, and he found himself liking the feel of it again.
In the light of the afternoon, Leo could afford to hang back. Better to do that than risk getting seen. Followed the Porsche up onto I-35 going north out of Minneapolis. All the way on 35 to Moose Lake State Park, where they picked up the smaller road, 73, going north.
Drove for hours between the two. Stopped twice, further along the way. Once at some kind of ranch off 73, and then at a supermarket near Hibbing. Gassed up there, while the woman was inside at the market. Picked up some snacks and a couple of cold drinks at the gas station.
Still light when her car turned into a dirt road running along one of the smaller lakes up there. Leo thought about it. Barbara Gow had come from up here somewhere. Near the iron mines, years back. Ojibway father and a Serbian mother he'd heard her say, a few times. That's why it'd stuck with him all these years. Said her father had worked the mines up here. After her mama had died, he gave her the insurance money. Wasn't a lot, but she took it to the Cities, and started at College. Dreamed of Paris back then. Don't think she ever got there.
Leo didn't follow her in with the truck. Road was too narrow, and he was afraid they'd make him in the truck, if they saw him. He'd go the rest of the way on foot, after the sun went down. One of the smaller lakes up here, so she shouldn't be tough to find.
He settled into the seat on a little pull-off in the brush. He'd stay for now and have himself a little snack and a drink. Cooler here, in the brush.
Just had to keep an eye out for Davenport. Didn't wanna run into him until he was ready. Leo leaned back, letting the air wash over him.
Got tuh thinkin' about the War. Their whole lives, been tryin' tuh get the others to follow, tuh make a plan with 'em. But as much as they'd talked and made their speeches, couldn't get 'em to follow. Down on the res, and downtown at the Indian Center, no matter where'd they'd went, couldn't get 'em to follow.
So, in the end, they'd made their own damn plan. Bluebird, Billy Hood, the Crows, and Shadow Love, all of 'em ready tuh make War. Show 'em. Years and years they been keepin' the People down. Time tuh show'em how it's gonna be now.
Once the worst a them started dyin' it'd get tuh the papers. How they'd died. And pretty soon, everyone'd know. There's a War goin' on. The People, risin' up, takin' back what's owed.
First, the one in New York. Throat slit with one a their obsidian knives. Black glass from the Cliff at Yellowstone. Knapped down sharper'n a razor. Made quite a mess – not too many things sharper'n one a them blades.
Papers gotta hold a that real quick. And right after, Benton got it – down at the Indian Center off a Franklin. Downtown. Another throat slit with one a their knives. And too bad about Bluebird. That was a waste. He was a good man. Didn't take them papers long to catch on. Them news boys got to it quick. All over the TV then. The War. Their War.
They all knew none a them was gonna come outta it, alive. With the cops, FBI, all them gov'ment men comin' after 'em, can't expect tuh come outta the War, alive.
Still – here he was.
Last one left. Prayed to 'em all, down at Bdote: them Crow men, Billy Hood, Bluebird. An' even to Shadow Love. Crazy sonofabitch, that boy. All but done all a them in – hisself. Got no honor, that boy. Never believed in nuthin'. 'Cept killin'. Killin' for killin's sake.
Could always tell it wadn't gonna end well with him, an' it didn't.
At the end of a gun, they say.
That cop got him. Davenport.
Been bidin' his time – more'n a year now, and comin' up on two. They'd forgot about him by now. Leo Clark's the name. But he still remembered.
Time tuh get back.
Needed tuh make some noise.
Remind 'em – it ain't over.