Suzanne Brockmann – Tall, Dark and Fearless: Frisco's Kid (страница 22)

“I can see that your sister’s not here,” the heavy man had a thick New Orleans accent. The gentlemanly old South politeness of his speech somehow made him seem all the more frightening. “But since you have the pleasure of her daughter’s company, I must assume you know of her whereabouts.”

“Why don’t you leave me your phone number,” Frisco suggested, “and I’ll have her call you.”

Dwayne flicked his knife open again, and this time he didn’t close it. “I’m afraid that’s unacceptable. You see, she owes me a great deal of money.” He smiled. “Of course, I could always take the child as collateral….”

Frisco could still sense Mia’s presence behind him. He heard her sharp intake of breath. “Mia, take Tash into the deli on the corner and call the police,” he told her without turning around.

He felt her hesitation and anxiety, felt the coolness of her fingers as she touched his arm. “Alan…”

“Do it,” he said sharply.

Mia began backing away. Her heart was pounding as she watched Frisco smile pleasantly at Dwayne, always keeping his eyes on that knife. “You know I’d die before I’d let you even touch the girl,” the former SEAL said matter-of-factly. Mia knew that what he said was true. She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Why don’t you just tell me where Sharon is?” Dwayne asked. “I’m not interested in beating the hell out of a poor, pathetic cripple, but I will if I have to.”

“The same way you had to hit a five-year-old?” Frisco countered. Everything about him—his stance, his face, the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice—was deadly. Despite the cane in his hand, despite his injured knee, he looked anything but poor and pathetic.

But Dwayne had a knife, and Frisco only had his cane—which he needed to use to support himself.

Dwayne lunged at Frisco, and Mia turned and ran for the deli.

Frisco saw Mia’s sudden movement from the corner of his eye. Thank God. It would be ten times easier to fight this enormous son of a bitch knowing that Mia and Tash were safe and out of the way.

Dwayne lunged with the knife again, and Frisco sidestepped him, gritting his teeth against the sudden screaming pain as his knee was forced to twist and turn in ways that it no longer could. He used his cane and struck the heavyset man on the wrist, sending the sharp-bladed knife skittering into the street.

He realized far too late that he had played right into Dwayne’s hand. With his cane up and in the air, he couldn’t use it to support himself. And Dwayne came at him again, spinning and turning with the graceful agility of a much smaller, lighter man. Frisco watched, almost in slow motion, as his opponent aimed a powerful karate kick directly at his injured knee.

He saw it coming, but as if he, too, were caught in slow motion, he couldn’t move out of the way.

And then there was only pain. Sheer, blinding, excruciating pain. Frisco felt a hoarse cry rip from his throat as he went down, hard, onto the sidewalk. He fought the darkness that threatened to close in on him as he felt Dwayne’s foot connect violently with his side, this time damn near launching him into the air.

Somehow he held on to the heavy man’s leg. Somehow he brought his own legs up and around, twisting and kicking and tripping, until Dwayne, too, fell onto the ground.

There were no rules. One of Dwayne’s elbows landed squarely in Frisco’s face, and he felt his nose gush with blood. He struggled to keep the bigger man’s weight off of him, trying to keep Dwayne pinned as he hit him in the face again and again.

Another, smaller man would’ve been knocked out, but Dwayne was like one of those pop-up punching bag dolls. He just kept coming. The son of a bitch went for his knee again. There was no way he could miss, and again pain ripped into Frisco like a freight train. He grabbed hold of Dwayne’s head and slammed it back against the sidewalk.

There were sirens in the distance—Frisco heard them through waves of nausea and dizziness. The police were coming.

Dwayne should have been out for the count, but he scrambled up and onto his feet.

“You tell Sharon I want that money back,” he said through bruised and bleeding lips before he limped away.

Frisco tried to go after him, but his knee crumbled beneath his weight, sending another wave of searing pain blasting through him. He felt himself retch and he pressed his cheek against the sidewalk to make the world stop spinning.

A crowd had gathered, he suddenly realized. Someone pushed through the mob, running toward him. He tensed, moving quickly into a defensive position.

“Yo, Lieutenant! Whoa, back off, Navy, it’s me, Thomas.”

It was. It was Thomas. The kid crouched down next to Frisco on the sidewalk. “Who ran you over with a truck? My God…” Thomas stood up again, looking into the crowd. “Hey, someone call an ambulance for my friend! Now!”

Frisco reached for Thomas.

“Yeah, I’m here, man. I’m here, Frisco. I saw this big guy running away—he looked only a little bit better than you do,” Thomas told him. “What happened? You make some kind of uncalled-for fat joke?”

“Mia,” Frisco rasped. “She’s got Natasha…at the deli. Stay with them…make sure they’re okay.”

“You’re the one who looks like you need help—”

“I’m fine,” Frisco ground out between clenched teeth. “If you won’t go to them, I will.” He searched for his cane. Where the hell was his cane? It was in the street. He crawled toward it, dragging his injured leg.

“God,” Thomas said. His eyes were wide in amazement that Frisco could even move. For once he actually looked only eighteen years old. “You stay here, I’ll go find them. If it’s that important to you…”

“Run,” Frisco told him.

Thomas ran.

CHAPTER NINE

THE HOSPITAL EMERGENCY room was crowded. Mia was ignored by the nurses at the front desk, so she finally gave up and simply walked into the back. She was stepped around, pushed past and nearly knocked over as she searched for Frisco.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for—”

“Not now, dear,” a nurse told her, briskly moving down the hallway.

Mia heard him before she saw him. His voice was low, and his language was abominable. It was definitely Alan Francisco.

She followed the sound of his voice into a big room that held six beds, all filled. He was sitting up, his right leg stretched out in front of him, his injured knee swollen and bruised. His T-shirt was covered with blood, he had a cut on his cheekbone directly underneath his right eye and his elbows and other knee looked abraded and raw.

A doctor was examining his knee. “That hurt, too?” he asked, glancing up at Frisco.

Yes, was the gist of the reply, minus all of the colorful superlatives. A new sheen of sweat had broken out on Frisco’s face, and he wiped at his upper lip with the back of one hand as he braced himself for the rest of the examination.

“I thought you promised Tasha no more bad words.”

Startled, he looked up, and directly into her eyes. “What are you doing here? Where’s Tash?”

Mia had surprised him. And not pleasantly, either. She could see myriad emotions flicker across hisface. Embarrassment. Shame. Humiliation. She knew he didn’t want her to see him like this, looking beaten and bloodied.

“She’s with Thomas,” Mia told him. “I thought you might want…” What? She thought he might want a hand to hold? No, she already knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t need or want that. She shook her head. She’d come here purely for herself. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Depends on your definition of the word,” he said. “In my book, it means I’m not dead.”

“Excuse me, miss, but is Mr. Francisco a friend of yours?” It was the doctor. “Perhaps you’ll be able to convince him to take the pain medication we’ve offered him.”

Mia shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. He’s extremely stubborn—and it’s Lieutenant, not Mister. If he’s decided that he doesn’t want it—”

“Yes, he has decided he doesn’t want it,” Frisco interjected. “And he also hates being talked about as if he weren’t in the room, so do you mind…?”

“The medication would make him rest much more comfortably—”

“Look, all I want you to do is X-ray my damn knee and make sure it’s not broken. Do you think maybe you can do that?”

“He’s a lieutenant in which organization?” the doctor asked Mia.

“Please ask him directly,” she said. “Surely you can respect him and not talk over his head this way.”

“I’m with the Navy SEALs—was with the SEALs,” Frisco said.

The doctor snapped closed Frisco’s patient clipboard. “Perfect. I should have known. Nurse!” he shouted, already striding away. “Send this man to X-ray, and then arrange a transfer over to the VA facility up by the naval base….”

Frisco was watching Mia, and when she turned to look at him, he gave her a half smile. “Thanks for trying.”

“Why don’t you take the pain medicine?” she asked.

“Because I don’t want to be stoned and drooling when Dwayne comes back for round two.”

Mia couldn’t breathe. “Comes back?” she repeated. “Why? Who was he anyway? And what did he want?”

Frisco shifted his weight, unable to keep from wincing. “Apparently my darling sister owes him some money.”