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Move!
Leaning heavily against the wall for as long as he could, Lucas stumbled out of the alley and to the street. He didn’t recognize anything or see anyone so he kept lurching on. At every block he turned, left and then right. No rationale to his movements at all. There had to be somewhere safe. Away from the men who jumped him. Away from others who might be coming.
Lucas didn’t know how much time had passed or how far he traveled before he finally crouched down behind a dumpster in the darkness. His head spun and throbbed in time with his racing heart. Pain spider-webbed through his body so that he couldn’t tell what was broken. It was all just pulsating agony. Wincing and sucking in a harsh breath, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cell phone. By some slim bit of luck, it hadn’t broken in the scuffle. He had difficulty focusing on the screen, everything blurring when he blinked against the bright glare, but he finally managed to call Rowe after three tries.
“Fuck! One of you bastards better be dying!” Rowe snarled into the phone after answering on the third ring.
Lucas wanted to laugh at the irony but he couldn’t. “Help,” he coughed out. The world shifted around him and the quality of the darkness changed. It was thicker and heavier. He tried to reach out with his left arm to steady himself, but the small movement doubled the pain through his body.
“Lucas? Lucas, where are you?” Rowe barked, instantly becoming serious.
“Don’t know.” He’d stumbled down so many streets it was all confused now. He couldn’t begin to guess where he was hiding. Somewhere blissfully dark and disgustingly smelly. Probably better that it was dark.
“It’s okay. I can trace your phone. You just gotta stay on the line with me.” Rowe was moving. There was a rustle over the phone followed by a yelping dog. “Talk to me. What happened? Are you safe?”
His friend was trying to keep him awake, but Lucas could feel himself sliding into the darkness and he couldn’t stop it. “Hurry,” he whispered, or at least he thought he did. He couldn’t be sure.###
Something somewhere was beeping. It wasn’t his alarm clock. The pitch and cadence was different. Had he fallen asleep at someone’s place? Then why the hell wasn’t the guy turning off the alarm? Lucas blindly reached out toward the noise, but something tugged painfully on his arm.
“No, no, Luc. Lay still.” Ian’s gentle voice drifted across the void. A hand took his and carefully laid it back on his stomach. As Ian drew away, Lucas tightened his own fingers, capturing his friend’s hand. “Easy now. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” Ian murmured. Fingers ran through Lucas’s hair in a caress, moving it from his forehead, easing the panic building in his chest.
Lucas slowly opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness until he focused on Ian’s weary but smiling face. His short, light brown hair was in more disarray than usual like he’d spent the past few hours running his fingers nervously through it. His dress shirt was untucked and rumpled as if he’d slept in it.
“Welcome back,” he said, some of the concern slipping from his tired brown eyes.
“Where?” Lucas’s voice was rough, his throat feeling like he’d been gargling shards of glass.
“You’re in the hospital.” Ian’s odd little smile left Lucas wondering if he’d answered that question before. His friend typed out a quick text with his free hand, probably alerting the others that he was conscious, before he put the phone in his back pocket again.
Lucas glanced around the small room, taking in the assortment of beeping equipment, medication cart, and nondescript abstract art on the beige walls. His gaze strayed to the window, focusing on the quality of light. It was late afternoon. Something was wrong with that. He wasn’t sure what, but he trusted the uneasiness in his stomach. Which was a good thing, because it felt like his thoughts were stuck in first gear when he was ready to get into fourth.
And then it hit him. The restaurant opening.
“What are you doing here?” Lucas demanded when he looked back up at Ian, his voice gaining strength the longer he was conscious.
“What do you mean?”
“You should be at the restaurant. The opening is tonight.”
Worry cut deep lines in Ian’s face and he pressed his full lips flat as if he was trying to hold back his next words.
“What?” Lucas barked when Ian refused to speak.
“The opening was yesterday,” Ian said softly.
“What? Impossible. I—”
“So Sleeping Beauty is finally awake.” Rowe strolled into the room followed by Snow in his white doctor’s coat. “Well, he ain’t so beautiful now. Maybe more like old Rip Van Winkle.”
“Shut up,” Snow growled, coming to stand at the foot of the bed to glare down at him as if he were already blaming Lucas for his state of distress.
