When she approached, he looked up at
her, his eyes haggard, all energy and purpose gone. He was shivering again.
“I gotta sleep. Been a long day.”
His laugh was weak. He held the gun out to her. She took it. “You gotta help me
get back to the bedroom. Help me get out of these wet clothes.” His eyes were
closed and he shivered uncontrollably.
Katherine stepped to him and he
slowly put an arm on her shoulders. She jumped, the cold from his arm shocking
her. He leaned heavily upon her and, with great effort she helped him to the
bedroom. There, she turned him and
lowered him to the edge of the bed. His arms hung loosely by his sides. She was
suddenly startled by the thought that he might die. Climbing onto the bed,
kneeling behind him, she tugged and pulled at the soggy jacket. Finally it came
off, the weight of it shocking her. She looked at the loose green hospital
shirt plastered to his body. It has to
come off over his head. No way.
She climbed off the bed and saw that
it was v-necked. Grabbing it, she pulled at the ribbing seam where it joined in
a V in front of his neck. It didn’t tear, but she saw that she had loosened the
threads. She tried again and was rewarded with a small tear. A third effort and
it tore down the center. Katherine paused, startled by the scar down the middle
of his chest, now dark blue from the cold. It matched the color of the tattoo
on his chest and upper arm. He started to fall over and she grabbed him, again
scared by the coldness of his skin. “Stay there, Patrick. Stay up.” She worked
the clinging jersey off, guiding his backwards fall towards the head of the
bed. Several red marks that were starting to form bruises covered his upper arms
and stomach. The pants were loose and easier and she had them off quickly. Her
eyes fell on the wet, almost see-through white underwear that clung to his
genitals. Really, Alderson?
Katherine rolled him on his side and
pulled the duvet cover from his side of the bed up onto him. She knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Somehow
she needed to apply some warmth to him. He needed to be in a hot shower, but
there was no way she could get him there. “Shit!” Katherine unbuttoned her
blouse and dropped it on the floor. Slipping out of her jeans, she climbed in
behind him, pulling her side of the duvet up and onto her. She gasped, the cold
of his body taking her breath away when she pressed herself to him. She curled
up behind him, spooning as best she could.
She was dazed: from the violence,
from the dead men in her apartment, from the naked man that she was curled up
with in bed. What the hell do I really
know about him? That he cared for his daughter. Is that enough that I should
believe what he says? What about those men? Jesus! What the hell is happening?
Excerpt
2 – Change of Heart – by Daniel Side
Behind the mammoth desk, Denetta sat sipping
coffee. She rose as Patrick approached. Her body, displayed in a tight but
flattering emerald green dress, could have belonged to a thirty year old. She
crossed the distance gracefully, her arms held wide for a hug. Patrick smiled
at the still attractive woman who had taken him from the streets and raised
him. He returned the gesture and stepped into her embrace. The hug was firm as
she pressed her breasts into him and touched her face against his in an air
kiss. She stepped back to study him.
“It’s good to see you, Patrick. It
has been so many years.”
“Yes it has. You look good, Miranda,
for an old madam.” Patrick took in the sun creased eyes and full mouth that
could always smile with easy charm, but reminded himself that under the quick
soft smile was a ruthless businesswoman.
“You always were a cocky smart ass,”
said Denetta, grinning back. She looked at Medina. “Johnny, I want you to meet
Patrick Corman. You might say Patrick was your prototype.”
Medina, standing to the side,
shifted his stare from Denetta to Patrick and smiled coldly.
“Come, sit down, Patrick,” she said
motioning him towards the two chairs in front of the fireplace. She led the way
and sat, the short dress sliding up her shapely legs. “Johnny.”
Medina walked to the fireplace,
flipped the switch and the fire came alive with a small puff.
“Bring us some fresh coffee, will
you dear,” Denetta said it without looking at him, watching Patrick instead as
he settled in the chair beside her.
After a moment’s pause, Medina
turned and left.
“I have to be honest, Patrick,
you’re not looking so good these days.”
“Always good to be honest. Been
under the weather a little bit lately.”
“So I hear. This heart stuff is
serious shit. You should do something about that.”
“I’m working on it, but you can’t
buy everything. Not even you, Miranda.”
“So we found out, didn’t we? But
enough of the past. What’s done is done. I’m more concerned about your little
action yesterday. One of my employees was injured. Quite badly.”
“Didn’t know he was on your
payroll.”
“Come on, Patrick. You still make
your living on the street. I know you still have your ear to the ground. You
hurt one of my employees, not to mention the loss of product.”
“Right. Anything to make a buck.”
“Don’t play choirboy with me. You’ve
done your fair share of questionable things. I know, because you did them for
me.”
“Yeah, well working with the ladies
was one thing.”
“It was where I started, Patrick.
The high end girls were lucrative, but the hassles drove me crazy. They all turn
into prima donnas. There’s a lot more money in the drug trade.”
“Yeah, but I don’t do that. You know that. I moved on.”
Denetta laughed. “Sure you moved on.
Driving taxi and selling hot stuff out of your trunk.” She shook her head. “Patrick,
Patrick, how far we’ve fallen.”
Patrick rose abruptly. “Are we done
here?”
“Patrick.” Her tone suggested she
had been offended. “What about your coffee? Johnny makes the best coffee. Even
better than you did. Sure you don’t want to try a cup?”
“I’ll pass.”
Denetta stood up and stepped close
to Patrick as Medina entered the room with coffee on a tray.
He could smell her perfume. Still
feel the sexuality emanate from her, as it had so many years ago.
“We go back a long way, Patrick, but
you can’t be interfering.” Her eyes held his, the warmth gone from her voice.
Patrick wondered what he had seen in
her those many years ago, but knew he had needed someone to take care of him at
that young age. “I owe you lots, probably more than I know, but that doesn’t
change what happened or the way things are now. If I bump into that guy, or
anyone else pushing that shit, the next time I’ll break both his legs.”
“It’s my business, and I won’t allow
anyone to interfere. Not even you. No matter what the reason.” She turned to
Johnny. “Thank you, Johnny. Mr. Corman can’t stay. The two of us will have
coffee instead.” She looked at Patrick. “Brian will drive you to wherever you
want. Good-bye, Patrick.”
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