The Walls Of Troy Part 16

Oh s.h.i.+t.

There was blood on the pavement. A lot of it.

I touched the side of my head, and my fingers came back red. I spat, and more blood landed on the ground.

"Iskander?" Johnson shouted. "Where are-"

"Over here." I sat up and leaned against my car, draping a shaky arm over Talos's neck. The Taser's effects hadn't lasted long, but my head throbbed, and I was shaking with adrenaline as I called out again, "I'm over here."

He came around the back of the car, gun drawn. "Oh s.h.i.+t. You okay?"

"Yeah." I wiped blood off my mouth. "He went that way. Didn't get a look at him."

"Don't worry about him. The other MAs and the dogs will chase him down." He holstered his weapon and knelt beside me. "Jesus, are-"

"I'm fine. Looks worse than it is." I hope. "f.u.c.ker wouldn't have even gotten this far with me if he hadn't Tased me first."

"He Tased... Jesus." Johnson turned around. "Get him some ice, and get an ambulance."

I turned just as the admiral came around the back of the car the same way Johnson had. "Oh my G.o.d. Troy, call 911. Now!" He squatted beside me and touched my shoulder. "What happened?"

"Car prowler or something." Johnson s.h.i.+ned a light on my head, probably checking the wound. "Got him with a Taser. He needs to go to the hospital."

I didn't protest. The Taser wasn't lethal, of course, but we were all under strict instruction to get checked out if we ever got hit with one. And with the amount of blood on my s.h.i.+rt, my hand, the pavement, and in my mouth, I had a feeling I was going to need a few st.i.tches.

Troy appeared, cell phone pressed to his ear, and in the floodlights, he paled. "Oh f.u.c.k."

Dalton stood. "Here. Give me the phone."

Troy handed it to him, then knelt where his father had been a second before. "What happened?"

"Car prowler." I swallowed, wincing at the taste of blood. "Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"Are you sure?"

"He just knocked me around. And the son of a b.i.t.c.h Tased me."

"He-" Troy blinked. "Are you f.u.c.king serious?"

"Yeah. I know that sound anywhere."

Troy didn't just lose a little color.

He went white.

Chapter Twelve.

I felt like s.h.i.+t.

The effects of the Taser had worn off quickly, but my body still ached from getting my a.s.s handed to me. The side of my mouth was sore where I'd bitten the inside of my cheek. On the other hand, at least I hadn't bitten my tongue. And the doc had decided the cut on my forehead could be super-glued instead of st.i.tched, which was a plus. The blood loss has been alarming, but it was just one of those head wounds that looked way worse than it was and bled like I'd ruptured a G.o.dd.a.m.ned artery.

Still, I was laid up in a hospital bed with half a dozen leads attached to my chest while a monitor beeped incessantly beside me.

Standard protocol after being Tased was a trip to the ER for an ECG to make sure it hadn't f.u.c.ked up my heart, and that meant lying here, bored off my a.s.s and trying not to replay what had happened out there tonight. I'd go back there when I tried to sleep later-might as well not think about it now.

On the bright side, a nurse, G.o.d bless the woman, had brought me an icepack, which I kept pressed against my forehead. Eyes closed, I held it against the side of my face while the ECG did its thing.

The medic had taped a gauze pad over the cut on my forehead. It stopped the steady trickle of blood down the side of my face, but the pressure against the throbbing wound was less than pleasant and getting more irritating by the minute.

The worst part, though, was I couldn't get Troy out of my mind. When he'd heard the word "Tased," he hadn't just reacted like he was stunned that someone had actually a.s.saulted me with a nonlethal weapon. There'd been enough blood all over me and the pavement to dull that revelation.

No, he'd gone from zero to oh f.u.c.king s.h.i.+t in way too little time. Something about that had triggered something in his mind. I was afraid to ask what it was but pretty d.a.m.ned certain he wouldn't tell me anyway. When he wanted to be, Troy was one h.e.l.l of a closed book.

Except when he wanted something, apparently.

I s.h.i.+vered, goose b.u.mps p.r.i.c.kling along my back and arms. Maybe I'd hit my head harder than I thought, because I swore I remembered making out with Troy up against his bedroom door just seconds before the dogs had lost their minds. So much for keeping things professional. So much for anything I'd thought from the beginning of this whole cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k.

Someone stepped into the room, and I opened my eyes.

The doctor glanced at my chart. "How are we feeling, Mr., um..."

"Iskander."

"Isk-what?"

I waved a hand. "Ayhan. Let's just go with Ayhan."

"Right. Ayhan. How are you feeling?"

"Like somebody played basketball with my head and tried to fry my brain."

He grimaced. "Well, you're pretty lucky, all things considered."

"That's encouraging."

He sat beside the bed and ran me through the usual procedures to check for traumatic brain injury. Having me track movement with my eyes. Checking pupil dilation. Asking my mother's name and various other bits of information that were committed to memory. Then he closed my chart and stood.

"I do want to keep you hooked to the ECG for a while longer, just to make sure there's no arrhythmia or other anomalies. From the looks of it, the shock didn't cause or exacerbate any problems, and I don't see any signs of anything more than a very mild concussion, so I don't see any reason to keep you as long as your heart rate stays steady."

"That's good to hear." The f.u.c.ker rang my bell, but he hadn't actually given me a concussion. Or at least not much of one. At this point, I was willing to call that a win.

He grunted quietly and nodded. "You're lucky, Mr. Ayhan. I want you to take it easy for a few days. Nothing strenuous. No driving, if you can help it." He nodded toward the door. "There's someone here who says he'll drive you home. A Mr.-" He opened my chart again.

"Dalton?"

He nodded and closed the chart. "Yes. Dalton. He's in the waiting room. Shall I send him in?"

"Sure. Isn't like I'm going anywhere for a little while."

He smiled. "Not too much longer. I promise. A bit more time on that ECG just to be sure, and then I think you'll be fine."

He left the room, and not two minutes later, Admiral Dalton walked in. And right on his heels...

f.u.c.k, Troy. I don't know if I can breathe with you here.

Dalton stood beside the bed, eyeing the monitors. "How are you feeling?"

I adjusted the icepack. "Like I just got intimately acquainted with your driveway."

He scowled. "And the Taser?"

I shrugged. "Didn't do much. Left a couple of burns where the alligator clips bit me, but it just stunned me for a few seconds."

"Good. Good. And your head?"

I lowered the icepack. "I'll be feeling it tomorrow, but I'll be all right."

His scowl didn't falter at all. "Are you sure that cut doesn't need st.i.tches?"

"The doc said this is enough." I waved a hand at my forehead. "Wouldn't have minded if he'd numbed it or something, though."

He didn't laugh. "When are they releasing you?"

"They want me on the heart monitor a little longer." I pointed at the screen beside me. "But they said they'll let me go once the doc is sure the Taser didn't f.u.c.k up my heart." I half shrugged. "Standard procedure."

"Well, all right, then." He pushed his shoulders back and locked eyes with me. "I feel terrible about this, MA1. Why don't you stay in our home tonight?"

I gnawed my lip. As much as I desperately wanted to barricade myself in my apartment and sleep in my own bed, the idea of staying in their house-with round-the-clock security and four very large, loud dogs-sounded pretty good too. As long as the dogs stayed in another room, anyway.

And even with a concussion that was so mild it barely warranted noting, it was probably wise for me to stay with people tonight.

"Okay. Thank you, sir."

"Right." He gave a slight nod. "I'm going to go get some coffee. Do either of you want any?"

I waved a hand. "I'm good."

"No, thanks," Troy muttered. As his father left the room, Troy sat in the chair beside the bed, hugging himself, but not tight enough to still the trembling.

"Troy. What's going on?" I reached for his hand. "If there's more to this than you've told me, I need to know. I can't protect you from a phantom."

He lowered his gaze, and I thought he might've shuddered before he whispered, "I'm sorry. I should've..."

"You're scared. It's okay. But, there is something more to this than you've told me, isn't there?"

He rubbed his hand over his face. "Yes, there's more going on."

I moistened my lips. "Tell me."

"I..." Shaking his head, he still avoided my eyes. "I can't."

"Troy. This guy just kicked my a.s.s and Tased me in front of your house." I squeezed his hand. "If you know something about this, I need to know. I need to know what I'm up against. Especially so he doesn't do something to you while-"

"Look, can we not do this here?" He met my eyes, the piercings and eyeliner doing nothing to hide the scared kid within. "I'll tell you everything, but..." He glanced at the door. "Not here. Please."

"But will you tell me?"

He nodded. "G.o.d, I am so sorry, Iskander."

"Don't." I tipped his chin up so our eyes met. "Just be honest with me so I can protect you."

He nodded as much as my finger under his chin would allow. "Okay. I will. When we get home." He gulped. "Promise."

"All right."

And the silence set in. This wasn't the same as the awkward tension that had filled our car rides to and from the university, or those moments when we'd tried to study in between stealing glances at each other. This was something entirely different, and even as I wished he would just break down and tell me now, I couldn't shake the feeling that once the truth came out, I was going to wish I'd never heard it.

But I needed to know. Otherwise, how could I keep him safe?

As I rubbed my thumb back and forth along his, the ECG monitor's beeping steadily picked up speed in time with my pounding heart. Even if I knew what was going on, how much could I do?

Because knowing why he was in danger didn't necessarily mean I could stop it.

As we walked into the house, Troy said, "I'll set him up in a guest room, Dad."

Dalton glanced at Troy as if he hadn't expected the offer, but then he shrugged. "Thank you." To me, he said, "You'll be all right for the evening? Is there anything else we can get for you?"

"No, it's fine." I shook my head. "Thanks, sir. I'll just get some rest."

"Good. Good." He patted my shoulder. "Take it easy for the night. That's an order, MA1."

I laughed. "Will do, sir."

Troy showed me to one of the bedrooms on the third floor. I went in to take a shower, and when I came out, he'd put fresh linens on the bed.

"I, um." He cleared his throat. "Should I go?"

"You don't have to. Maybe we should talk."

He gulped. "Okay." He gestured at me. "How's your head?"