Imitation (14 page)

“
Very nice,” Titus says,
and though it’s probably meant to be a compliment I can’t help but
feel as if he’s simply given me permission—not praise—to look like
this.

“
Tonight,” he continues,
“Gus and Linc and a few others will accompany you but not inside.
They would be too conspicuous and I want this dinner to solidify to
the public that you are healed and well from your past injuries and
your amnesia is gone. Do you understand?”

“
I will be alone in the
building?” I ask.

I can’t help the nerves that are
building in my stomach at the thought, especially after what Linc
said earlier.

“
Your security team will
be downstairs and you’ll be wired so they can hear everything going
on. Daniel will be there, as well as plenty of others willing to
spend any amount of time you’ll give them. You’ll be fine.” He
leans down and lowers his voice and adds, “Just be
her
.” He straightens and
pats my cheek in a way that feels like a slap. “Your bruises healed
nicely. Let’s not come home with new ones, all right?”

I am not sure if he means from an
attack or from his own hand if I screw this up. The thought of
either has me balling my fists at my sides and digging my nails
into my palms. Footsteps sound behind me and I turn to find Gus and
Linc.

“
Have fun, darling,” Titus
says loudly enough for them to hear. Then he moves away to speak to
Gus in a low voice.

Linc joins me in front of the
elevator. He takes in all of me and his jaw goes slack. My pulse
quickens.

“
Is it okay?” I ask
quietly.

“
It is … more than okay,”
he says, his voice hoarse.

I want to ask him to elaborate but
then Gus joins us and Linc presses the button, and we file into the
elevator. The last thing I see before the doors close is Titus, a
twisted smile pasted on his angular face.

The moment we step off the elevator, I
know something is wrong.

The doorman is missing and half the
lights in the lobby are out. I hesitate as we step off the elevator
and I feel Linc’s hand on my arm, gently pushing me behind him.
With one hand, Gus motions us forward. With the other, he is
talking rapidly into his radio, calling for backup.

“
Come on, the car is
waiting,” he says to us.

Through the glass front I can see a
black car idling by the curb. Normally, our driver is standing
there, waiting to open the door, but I don’t see anyone now. Still,
Gus tugs me forward. I exchange a look with Linc. His expression is
grave and determined as he searches our surroundings.

“
Boss,” Linc
begins.

“
I see it,” Gus says.
“Keep moving. We need them to show themselves.”

We walk quickly across the hollow
lobby and my breaths are coming so fast, my chest aches with the
pressure of too much oxygen. The absence of a doorman doesn’t deter
Gus. He shoves through the door without bothering to hold it for
us. With one hand, Linc holds the door for me. His other hand slips
into mine.

Behind me, the stairwell door bursts
open and several more of our security detail pour out and race
across the lobby. They are not fast enough.

The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, a
hand closes over my shoulder and I am ripped from Linc’s grasp. I
stumble backward until I slam hard against a chest and the hand on
my shoulder becomes an arm wrapped around my throat. Another
encircles my waist.

I have a full view of Gus and Linc—and
the men they are fighting off—as I am pulled farther and farther
away from them. Linc’s movements are a blur as he manages to
sidestep an uppercut punch and produce a gun from some hidden place
on his body. He points it at my captor for a split second before
realizing I am the barrier between his bullet and my freedom. He
lowers the barrel and his attention is redirected as he’s forced to
dodge another swing.

I am yanked again, this time into an
alleyway, and abruptly released. The momentum sends me hard against
the wall of the building. My back hits first, driving the air from
my lungs, and then my head. The pain is instant and splitting, and
I cannot see through the cloudy darkness that blurs my vision. I
swing out but my fists connect with empty air.

I blink furiously, but it’s not in
time to avoid the fist that crashes into my stomach. Then another.
The only thing keeping me on my feet is the force of the fists
holding me against the hardness of the wall.

The blows cease and my knees buckle. I
begin to crumple. A pair of arms dart forward and I flinch but it’s
not another punch. Instead the hands slip underneath my arms and
yank me up so that I’m somewhat on my feet.

“
Raven Rogen,” a voice
says. The fact that it is female startles me enough for my eyes to
open. I struggle to focus on the face swimming in front of me. The
orange hair is like a burning halo framing a face that is
strikingly familiar.

“
I know you,” I
mumble.

“
You don’t know anything,”
she says.

“
I met you … gave you my
autograph.”

“
Signature sample, you
mean. Very handy with the right technology. We had to be certain.”
She leans in until our noses almost touch. “I know your secret,”
she whispers.

Farther away, someone shouts. It pulls
both of our attention, though I can’t see far enough to identify
the owner of the voice. More shouts. Feet pounding.

She turns back to me but I continue to
crane my neck past her to the shouting. I hope help has arrived at
last.

“
Looks like we’re doing
this the hard way. Time for light’s out.”

I look back at the girl
just in time to see her petite fist slam into my temple. Then her
hands cup my cheeks and my head is slammed against the wall. There
is a sickening
thunk
and I know she’s broken the skin. Her hands slide lower to my
throat and begin to squeeze. I manage two very short breaths before
my oxygen is cut off. I thrash wildly, kicking and clawing for
purchase. Anything that will make her let go. But it’s not enough.
Within moments, darkness edges into my peripheral vision and widens
until it’s all I see.

Fog encroaches, threatening to take me
under but I refuse. I am vaguely aware of a commotion beside me. A
small scuffle. I kick out and my toe connects with her shin. She
grunts. The pressure around my throat releases. By the time I
understand it, the redhead is gone and Linc is kneeling over
me.

One of his hands cradles my back and
the angle at which he holds me sends a sharp jolt up my side. The
other is pressed tightly against the back of my scalp. Too hard. I
wince against the pain that is not unlike the migraine I
experienced a few days ago.

When it’s obvious I’m awake, Linc’s
voice breaks. “Raven,” he says. It’s half whisper, half desperate
cry.

“
Linc.” My lips form the
word but the sound is garbled to my ears.

He shakes his head and shushes me.
“Don’t talk. Your throat … it must hurt.” His expression is full of
agony, his tone soft and smooth, like a blanket. I shiver. He
shakes his head again. “Josephine is on her way down. Just sit
tight. Don’t try to move, all right?”

I shake my head once but the pain
pinches sharply so I lie still. With measured movement, Linc frees
one arm while still holding pressure against my head with the
other. Gently, he brushes my hair away from my face, smoothing it
sideways and sweeping it behind my ear. I don’t realize it’s the
right side until his glance catches on the ink.

“
I didn’t know you had a
tattoo.” His hand stills and he leans closer, inspecting. “Is that
a … tree?”

I am blissfully grateful he’s
instructed me not to speak. Behind Linc, footsteps sound, and we
both stiffen. He glances back, his body blocking my view. I don’t
breathe until I feel him relax.

“
Raven?” I recognize
Josephine’s voice at the same moment she bends down and her face
swims into focus. “Oh my God.” Her gaze sweeps down my neck and
chest and her jaw slackens. Her reaction to my appearance is almost
as bad as the pain.

Beyond her, I can make out the blurry
shapes of more security guards as they finally arrive from upstairs
or wherever Titus has summoned them from. Gus’s white hair shines
in the glare of a streetlamp as he moves between the men. None of
them approach us but many glance my way with twisted
expressions.

“
Does it hurt terribly?”
Josephine asks, calling my attention back to her, to the
pain.

I open my mouth, prepared to attempt
an answer, but Linc beats me to it. “I don’t think she should talk.
Her chest and neck look badly bruised, Jo.”

Josephine nods. “What
happened?”

“
She was strangled,” he
tells her in a strained voice.

“
Who …? Did you catch
them?”

He shakes his head. “A couple of her
thugs but not the ringleader, the one who had Raven.”

“
A girl did this?”
Josephine asks. The disbelief is clear.

“
Well, not alone,
obviously,” Linc says. I want to laugh at the defensive note in his
voice but I don’t. Nothing about this is funny. Then the face of my
attacker appears in my mind—the memory of that burning halo of
hair.

I struggle to sit forward, determined
to tell them what I know, but Josephine’s hands gently push me
back. “Don’t try to move just yet, darling. Let me have a closer
look.”

She pulls a stethoscope from her bag
and presses the cold metal to my skin. I flinch. Not because of the
coolness but because even the light contact of the metal pressed
against me reignites the sharp pain of my raw and bloodied
skin.

“
It’s all right,” she
murmurs over and over, her voice doing that sing-song thing again
where I don’t so much hear the words as feel safe and comforted by
the sounds they make. A small light is shined directly into my
pupils and then pulled away. I blink and squint until it
disappears. I am asked to recite mundane facts. Date, time, my
address. I stumble over my full address but manage to get out the
correct alias in a garbled whisper.

When it’s over, I sit back. My throat
burns and my chest aches.

“
What do you think?” Linc
asks when Josephine has thoroughly looked me over.

“
Believe it or not, I
don’t think anything’s broken,” she says. “This bruising to her
windpipe is another story. And her chest and neck are pretty
battered.”

My confusion is dulled by pain. How
can my body hurt this badly and not be broken?

“
Can we move her?” Linc
asks.

“
Let me give her something
first,” Josephine adds. She reaches into her bag and produces a
syringe identical to the one she used the day of my headache.
Without being told, I stretch out my arm, exposing the vein in the
crook of my elbow and will her to hurry.

She takes the time to swab my skin
with a white cotton cloth and then the needle pricks as it enters
and she depresses the plunger. I begin to count. At five, the pain
recedes. At eight, it is bearable. At ten, I can breathe
again.

“
Better?” Josephine
asks.

“
Nod, don’t speak,” Linc
reminds me. We both shoot him a look. “It might not hurt now but
those drugs are only so strong.”

I decide it’s better to be safe than
sorry and nod my agreement.

“
Good, let’s get you
inside,” Josephine says. She looks to Linc. “This would be easier
with a gurney. A wheelchair. Something.” There is a hint of
frustration I’ve never heard from her before. She’s usually so
patient.

“
He doesn’t want her to
appear weak. You know there’s a crowd gathered at the door,” Linc
says. “Half of them are reporters.”

“
Isn’t there a back way
in?” she asks.

“
There is. He’s ordered us
to bring her in the front. He wants them to see her walk away from
this.”

“
What the heck does he
think she is? Some sort of superhero?”

Linc doesn’t answer. I see them
exchange a look before finally turning back to me. “Do you think
you can walk?” Josephine asks me gently.

We all know there’s no other choice
but to say yes. I nod.

They talk me through how we’re going
to do it and then gingerly, with one of them on each side, they
pull me to my feet. The drugs have dialed the pain back enough that
I manage to keep my legs under me. Josephine produces a towel and
directs my hand to the place where pressure should be applied to
stem the flow of blood. Then we are ready.

Adrenaline fuels my steps. I am
determined to see this through. The thought of being in my own bed,
the soft sheets, the mountain of blankets … Maybe Josephine will
give me another shot and I can sink into oblivion and forget about
what happened for a few hours.

“
Wait,” Linc says, pulling
us to a stop at the mouth of the alley. Already, I can hear the
volume of the crowd gathered around the corner.