15
1021 Words
Sitting on a stool nearby and looking like an ad for the latest James Bond movie, Killian says, “You’re no good to her dead, mate.”
“f**k!” Eva. Sweetheart. Hold on.
“Dude, it’s a miracle you’re even breathing. You should be stoked.”
I squint at Doc, confused by the contradiction of his looks—which are Middle Eastern—his accent—which is some murky mix of Southern California surfer and vaguely European aristocrat—and his attitude, which is nerdy professor. He’s amorphous, like fog.
“Where are you from?”
Without a hint of irony, he answers, “Earth.”
“Great. Now I’ve got two abstruse assholes to deal with.”
“Abstruse?” Doc lifts his brows. “I don’t even know what language that is.”
“When he’s not shouting obscenities at people, he likes to read a thesaurus,” says Killian. “He could’ve said ‘hard to comprehend,’ but then he wouldn’t feel smarter than you.”
Exhaling hard, I drop my head onto the cot and close my eyes.
Killian says, “Stop plotting my death. We’ve got plans to make.”
“I wasn’t plotting your death. Just a little light dismemberment that would leave you alive but without any limbs.”
“So basically a stump?”
“I’d float you in a pond and call you Lily.”
“That’s disturbing, mate.”
“You know what’s really disturbing? You calling me ‘mate’ every five seconds. Cut it out.”
“I hate to interrupt this adorable bromance you’ve got going on,” says Doc, “but I need to stitch you up.”
“Like with a needle?”
“Like with a needle.”
“You don’t have any QuikClot around the Batcave?”
“No.”
“f**k. Fine, we’ll do it old school.”
“I’ll give you a shot of local anesthetic before I start.”
“No, just hurry up and get it over with.”
“Dude, it’s gonna hurt.”
“I don’t want any drugs!”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t. Congratulations, you’re macho. Hold still and keep quiet.”
He starts with the wound in my upper chest, working slowly and methodically, then moves to the exit wound in my shoulder, then moves to my belly.
It takes a long time. Forever, it feels like. With every tick of the clock, a winch winds tighter in my gut, until I’m drawing short, ragged breaths, my whole body shaking.
He has her. He took her. I failed.
I hear Killian’s low voice just as I’m about to leap up from the cot.
“He’ll be preoccupied getting somewhere safe. We’ve got a wee bit of breathing room.”
Before Dimitri does anything really vile to Eva, he means. Which of course we don’t know.
I answer in a raw voice, my eyes closed. “You didn’t see the pictures. What he’s done to her in the past. The abuse . . .” I have to stop and take a few deep breaths, desperate to scour the images of Eva’s injuries from her hospital file that are flooding my head, but they just keep on coming. “He’ll be itching to make up for lost time.”
“He’s got too many other important things on his plate. My guess is he’ll put her on ice for a while.”
There’s a certain knowing tone in his voice that makes me open my eyes and look at him. “The nuke?”
He nods. “Dimitri has to ensure the dust settles on that pile of dead soldiers of his you left behind at the apartment before he makes any moves to complete the transfer of the warhead. When the police discover the men worked for him, he’ll get a lot of heat.”
If Doc is surprised by the turn in the conversation, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on stabbing my flank with a needle, cheerfully sewing, as if working on a nice piece of fabric and not a bag of meat.
“None of them will have ID. They can’t be traced back to him.”
Killian scoffs. “No, they won’t be carrying their passports, but likely most if not all of them will have arrest records from one country or another. Once their corpses are fingerprinted, it won’t take much digging to find their known associates.”
His smile is faint and annoyingly self-confident. “And if the authorities need a little nudging in the right direction, I’ll be happy to help.”
He delivers that last line as if he’s all-seeing, all-knowing Mr. Super Spy at your service, thank you very much. His arrogance really chaps my ass.
“About that. I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
He c***s his head.
“Who the f**k are you?”
He waves a hand in the air as if swatting away a fly. “You already asked me that.”
“Yeah, I did, and you slung me some humblebrag bullshit about how you were ‘no one of importance.’”
“Bullshit? So you think I’m important? I’m flattered.”
“I swear to God, I’ve never met anyone more irritating than you.”
“Need I remind you, Nasir, that I recently saved your life? You could show a bit more gratitude.”
My laugh is incredulous. “You’re taking credit for saving my life?”
Doc snorts. “Right? I’m the miracle worker here, not him.”
I ignore him, too busy glaring at Killian. “The Germans showed up before you! They would’ve taken me to a hospital!”
Killian says mildly, “But they didn’t take you to a hospital, did they? I did.” He waves the hand again, indicating our surroundings. “Or something like it.”
“I would’ve been just fine without you!”
“You would’ve been booked for murder without me. You need me, mate, whether you like it or not.”
- Writer
