19. Riddick: Greater And Lesser Devils

Riddick sensed trouble as soon as he approached the door to Jack's room. The scent of her fear was suddenly sharp in his nostrils. Everything went still within him.

The locks in the patients' rooms were a courtesy only; most of the hospital staff had master keys, after all. Someone had unlocked the door. He opened it swiftly and stepped into the room, ready for mayhem.

The orderly jumped back away from Jack and grabbed clumsily for his chart. His eyes flicked toward Riddick nervously as he pretended to jot notes.

You fucking piece of shit, he thought, but he kept his face impassive. He stepped slightly to the side of the door, enough so that the bastard could leave but would have to pass uncomfortably close to him to do so. He held the man's eyes with his the entire time.

Shutting and locking the door behind the orderly, he turned back to Jack and hurried over to her side. She was still pressed against the mattress as if she could somehow melt into it, chalky-white and shaking.

"Are you okay? What did he do?" he asked urgently.

She swallowed hard. He pulled her up into his embrace, hugging her tightly and feeling the way she shook against him.

"Did he hurt you, Jack?" He felt her shake her head against his shoulder.

"He... didn't have... time..." she finally managed to gasp out.

The killing rage within him reached a molten level of fury. In his mind he could already see what he would do to the man. It was the same orderly who had gotten so excited over Jack's pain the day before. Apparently he'd come back for a second helping. He would die slowly for that.

"That motherfucker... he probably considers all the women here fair game for his fun." A horrible thought occurred to him. "Has he ever hurt you, Jack?"

He felt the lie as she shook her head again.

"What did he do, Jack? You know you don't have to hide anything from me."

She sat back and took a deep breath. "Earlier today... he said it was a routine exam, but..."

The tortured look on her face spoke volumes and stiffened his resolve. The man was going to die by inches at a time.

"Did he rape you?"

This time he knew she was telling the truth when she shook her head. "He just... touched me..." She swallowed convulsively.

"Did you report it?"

"No, not yet..."

"Good. Don't."

She looked confused. "Why not?"

"Because," he said with gentle firmness, "I don't want them wondering about us when they find his body."

The color that had been returning to her face fled again. She stared at him for a long moment, speechless. It hurt him to watch her face crumple and the tears begin, but she didn't resist at all when he pulled her close to him again. He hated having to let her see the other side of him, the untamed killer that still lived under his skin. She had been brave enough to face it down in the skiff, but he'd quickly come to realize that she'd had a very romanticized view of what he really was.

The little runaway he'd first met had thought of him as her Zorro, a righteous outlaw who actually fought for justice. The idea that part of him truly reveled in dealing death had no place in her dreams. He did his best to keep her from having to face that side of who he was. But it was always there. The only consolation was that it loved her every bit as much as the rest of him.

There was no death it reveled in more than the death of someone who had hurt her. Still, such a thing would be terrible for her to face. He rocked her in his arms until the sobs trailed away. He didn't blame her. He couldn't.

"This changes a bunch of things, kid," he said softly. "I don't trust this place enough to leave you alone here. Guess I'm going to be staying with you at night from now on."

He felt her arms tighten around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered.

Don't thank me yet, kid. Don't know if you're really going to be any safer this way. I hope to God you are...

He also hoped that God didn't still have the same sick fucking sense of humor the bastard had always had when it came to him and the people he cared about.

He fixed her image in his mind, the way she'd looked when the orderly had been menacing her. You will never make her look like that, you fucker, he told the animal within. Its acquiescence surprised him.

Yes, every part of him loved her.

"Hey, I found out that the doctors can start giving you painkillers now. I told them to get off their asses and do it. You won't be in any more pain soon, kid." He stroked her hair, wishing he could tell her the truth but knowing how much it would hurt if he did. "Oh, and they're going to remove the scars on your side. I talked to Dr. Cartwright and she says it'll be painless."

She sat back, wiping her eyes. She looked deeply touched. Good. Finally he'd found a gift to make up for the suffering he'd caused her. He hoped. He loved the sweetness of her smile and wanted to see it much more often.

"Cool," she finally said, life back in her voice. "I'll be able to wear bikinis."

The image shot through him like a powerful drug. That was going to be a dangerous sight. He hoped he'd be able to cope with it without turning into a complete idiot.

Not likely. These last few days he'd constantly felt like an adolescent kid again, a horny teenage boy confounded by his first serious crush. Damned undignified for a man in his thirties with a killer reputation...

"We'll have to see about that," he said after a moment when he realized she was waiting for a response. "Don't know if I can control the riots that'd follow."

I'm barely going to survive the riot in my own head, kid.

She laughed with the joy of the compliment. "Guess you'd better start up my self-defense lessons again, huh?"

"Damned right. I'm gonna make sure that the next fucker who tries to force himself on you has a huge surprise in store, Darlin'." He glanced at the door, frowning. "Meantime... gotta set up a bit of insurance against that fucker."

He thought for a long moment, considering the alternatives. Finally he smiled. "You know what, Jack? Your favorite ring is missing."

"My what?" Jack had never been interested in wearing jewelry. Now she looked at him like he'd gone off in the head.

"Oh yeah. This was an extra-special ring, too. Valuable. Hmm... let's see... white gold, with your birthstone... what month did I tell them you were born in?"

"I don't know. I still have a hard time remembering what you told them our last name was."

"Tarsin. Oh yeah, I said you were born in July. Excellent, the July birthstone is a ruby, those are valuable... Yeah, a white gold ring with a ruby in the center and two one-carat diamonds, one on each side. An antique... we'll say it belonged to my great-grandmother. Think you can remember all that?"

"White gold, ruby, two one-carat diamonds. Are the stones round or square?"

"Round."

"And it belonged to your great-grandmother. Got it."

"Good. Last time you saw it, it was on your bedside table. Now it's gone."

"Okay, why has my imaginary ring been stolen?" She grinned impishly. God, he loved that smile...

"Well, it gives me a good reason to demand that from now on any orderlies who come into the room have to have a supervisor with them, now doesn't it? Let's see. I gave that to you as an engagement ring, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. And I'm devastated by its loss." Jack grinned at him for a second before schooling her face into a woeful expression. He laughed.

"Downplay it a little, kid, you look like somebody just killed all ten of your puppies." He glanced at his watch. "Excellent. The shift will be changing over in a few minutes. I'm going to go for a bit, okay? Gotta report that theft, after all."

"We're still doing dinner, right?"

"Absolutely. I'll be back in an hour or two. Gonna have a little talk with our friend the orderly so he doesn't sniff around anymore--"

"You're not killing him tonight, are you?" She looked scandalized.

"No, just gonna scare him off. But the day you check out, he dies. Don't bother trying to argue with me on this one, okay? It's not negotiable." He watched until she nodded in resignation. "I'm also going to pick up some stuff from the ship and lock it down a bit more, since I won't be seeing it until we check you out of here."

He stood up, and then leaned down to kiss her good-bye. Once again he had to stop himself from kissing her lips. His mouth just wanted to gravitate to them, he realized.

He paused at the door, turning to look at her. "Describe the ring."

"White gold, with a ruby and two diamonds on either side. The diamonds are one carat each and all three stones are round. It belonged to your great-grandmother and you gave it to me as an engagement ring. It was on my bedside table the last time I saw it." She frowned. "When was the last time I saw it?"

"This morning, right after I left. Perfect, kid. Remember it and stick to it if anybody asks." He left the room, making a point of locking the door behind him.

Ten minutes later the theft had been reported, and he'd been promised that no one would be allowed in "Rebecca's" room without a supervisor present.

Ten minutes after that, he was following the orderly from the clinic. Few people were as good as he was when it came to tailing somebody without being spotted. He had, on many occasions, rented out his services as a detective to various people. He had a whole, carefully-crafted identity at his disposal for use in that capacity. It had once belonged to yet another individual who'd had the misfortune to tangle with him. He'd kept it after he ensured that the man's body would never be found and his disappearance wouldn't be noted.

Damn, this kid was predictable. Right to a bar. This was going to be far too easy.

Riddick entered the bar a few minutes after his quarry, still in his Colin Tarsin guise. It was important that the guy knew who he was being threatened by and why, after all.

He watched the orderly for several minutes. Stupid kid didn't know how to talk to a real woman, he noted. He pulled his little stunts at the clinic with a captive audience because no woman he encountered outside would sit still for his crap. When the redhead sitting next to him grabbed her drink and stalked away, Riddick calmly stepped up and appropriated the seat.

He clapped his hand on the guy's shoulder. "Not bad lookin', eh? Too bad. Looks like your luck isn't going so good today, Pete."

That had been the name on the orderly's badge. Pete the fucking perv. Pete, who had been victimizing women at the clinic for ages, and had finally picked the wrong one to torment.

He gave Pete a smile that was filled with predation. He was gratified by the flicker of fear that appeared in the kid's eyes. He smiled at the bartender and signaled for a round of drinks for the both of them.

"'Course," he continued as he sipped his beer, "Rebecca leaves that one in the dust, doesn't she? Now there's a real woman." He raised his glass as if in a toast. "You ever go near her again, Pete, and I'll cut you to pieces."

Another wolfish smile. The guy next to him had frozen, one trembling hand resting on the shot of vodka Riddick had just bought him.

"Oh, come on, drink up, kid. No hard feelings, right? As long as you stay away from my woman I'm not going to do anything to you."

Pete swallowed and tried to work up some nerve. "You c-can't threaten me."

"Wasn't a threat, kid, it's what'll happen if you don't use the shit between your ears. Stay away from her and you're fine." He treated the orderly to yet another cruel smile. "Of course, you could report me to your bosses, but they might want to know why I was so mad at you. You know anywhere else you can get a job as sweet as the one you have now?"

He took another sip of his beer. This was too much fucking fun.

"See, now, I don't think Rebecca's somebody you really feel like dying for, is she? But I'm more than happy to kill for her. So you'd better consider your options very carefully, boy."

The idiot still wanted to posture. "You kill me and everybody will know it was you."

"You think?" Chuckling, Riddick leaned close. The scent of the orderly's fear pleased him no end. "If you make me kill you, little man... they'll never find enough of you to identify."

He patted the man's shoulder with gusto and stepped back. Still smiling, he turned and walked away. Anyone observing them would have thought it was a pleasant conversation. And it had been...

For him.

He still planned to kill the orderly. But not until he'd gotten Jack out of there. Then the man would die. In the meantime, Pete's fear should keep him in check.

Riddick left the pub to collect his things from the ship. He walked with a distinct swing in his step. It had been a long time since he'd looked forward to the kill so much.