The grin faded from Maestro’s face. “You really did fuck this up bad?”
Player nodded slowly. “I was so tired. I pretty much shoved her on the floor and told her to leave and then made things worse by trying to give her money. I was so confused and tired. You know how I can get, mixing reality and nightmares up, although she was a thing of fantasies, not nightmares. We went at it all night, and I don’t recall, not once, telling my body to cooperate. I couldn’t stop wanting that woman. I was like some kind of crazy sex machine.”
Preacher shook his head. “You definitely made that part up.”
“Condoms all over the damn room,” Player said. “At least I protected her.”
“Holy shit, brother,” Maestro breathed. “I’d say that was the real deal.”
Code glanced down at his watch. “Steele should be here any minute. You hadn’t moved all day, and we were getting worried. He was on his way over to check on you. We can ask him about the girl. He can ask Breezy.”
For the first time since he’d woken up, Player found himself relaxing. “I knew you would come through for me, Code. She said her name was Zyah. I’m pretty certain that’s her dancing name. You know, when she dances for customers.”
Preacher frowned. “You’re really convinced this girl is a dancer?”
“You should have seen her. She’s definitely a professional belly dancer. No one is that good. She told me she was practicing, but she didn’t need to practice. She had to have been dancing since she was a little kid. She did say she was from the Middle East, at least I think she said it. At the time I thought it was part of the role-playing we were doing. The act. She had to have left early in the morning, Code. Can you pull up the video where she leaves? Maybe we can see what she’s driving, get the license on her car.”
“Good idea, Player,” Maestro approved.
Code swung around and immediately fast-forwarded to the early morning hours. He caught sight of Player’s private dancer coming out of the back room and into the front, where most of the partiers were sound asleep. She picked her way through the bodies sleeping on the floor and in chairs, making her way toward the exit.
Zyah wore her blue jeans and top, and as she walked, Player could see the little golden bells around her ankle, but the coins were gone from her hips. The camera was directly on her face as she approached the exit, and she lifted a hand toward her eyes. Her fingers brushed first her left eye and then her right.
A man wearing Torpedo Ink colors came up on her right, blocking her exit. Player immediately recognized Destroyer, one of his brothers. He was a big man with very muscular arms covered in prison tattoos. His hair was long, falling nearly to his waist, pulled back in a braid segmented by bands every few inches. He leaned down and spoke to her. She shook her head and dashed at her face again, right under her eyes, giving the man her smile, but Player could tell it wasn’t real. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw what were obvious tears on her face.
Code, Maestro and Preacher fell silent. Player looked at them. “I really screwed up. She’s fuckin’ cryin’. I did that. Shit.” He pressed his fingers hard into the back of his neck, tension gathering there. For the first time in his life, he’d had real hope that he had a chance with a woman he could respond to. One he genuinely liked. She’d made him laugh. She’d made his body actually work when he’d thought himself long dead. “She didn’t do one damn thing wrong, and I made her cry.”
“I see you’re already up,” Steele said from behind them. “Master texted yesterday and said you were coming in early in bad shape. Maestro confirmed your migraine was particularly bad. I didn’t expect to see you up at all, let alone walking around.” There was a question in his voice.
Player spun around to face him. “That’s the thing, Doc, there was this woman last night, in my room. I don’t know what kind of ability she had, but when she spoke to me, the tone of her voice, the way she moved, she took away the migraine.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to look at me like that.”
“There was a woman in his room,” Code said, taking the screen capture he’d printed out from Player and handing it to Steele. “And he doesn’t have any headache.”
“Not only that, but he’s functioning,” Preacher added.
“I was with him last night,” Maestro said. “He was worse than I’ve ever seen him.”
Steele glanced down at the photograph and then at the frozen picture of the woman with Destroyer standing over her. “Tell me about her. And how did she get into your room?”
Player tried not to look at the tears on Zyah’s face. That just plain undid him. “At first, I thought she was part of my crazy alternate reality, although it wasn’t my normal fucked-up version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. There was Middle Eastern music playing in my room. I recognized the instruments. Candles were lit with very distinctive essential oils burning. She was in the middle of my floor, belly dancing. She wore a belt with layers of coins and tiny bells around her hips over her blue jeans, and an ankle bracelet with bells. God, she was gorgeous. Every movement was flowing and graceful.”
Steele took another look at the picture in his hand. “I want you to go sit down, Player. You look good, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it easy. When you use your psychic ability, you actually can injure your brain, which is why you get such horrendous headaches. I’m not saying this woman doesn’t have the capacity to heal you. Obviously, something happened, but I still want you to take it easy.” He gestured back toward the common room.
Player and the others made their way from the control room to the comfortable chairs. Player found he was grateful to sit down. He wasn’t nearly as steady on his feet as he thought he was.
“Tell me about her. What’s her name? Where is she from?” Steele demanded.
Player sighed. “She said her name was Zyah, but I think that’s the name she uses when she’s dancing. I didn’t get her last name or a number. I was hoping Breezy did. Preacher remembered that Breezy talked to her last night. She let her into the room.”
Steele nodded. “I remember. Breezy texted me and asked me if it would be okay if she used one of the empty rooms to study. She had two job interviews this morning and had promised her grandmother she would help out a friend’s granddaughter by being a designated driver. She was with another woman. Winters. Francine Winters. Heidi vouched for her. Your Zyah was Francine’s designated driver. Breezy told Zyah she could use the room.”
“Did Breezy get a last name?”
“No, it was Francine Winters that Heidi knew. But I can text Heidi.” Steele pulled out his cell phone immediately and texted the waitress from their bar. Heidi was completely loyal to their club.
“While you’re waiting for Heidi to get back to you, I’ll just run the rest of the security tape and see if I can get the car she’s driving and maybe a license plate,” Code said.
Player tapped out a beat on his thigh before realizing it was an Arabic rhythm from the night before. He dropped his palm on his leg and rubbed, missing her. Needing to feel her skin against his. He kept from rubbing his temple by sheer will. When he looked up, Steele was watching him closely. It was tap out beats on his thigh, count in his head or build bombs in his head to keep himself sane. He had bad habits. Anything he did in his head was better than these outward “tells” that his fellow Torpedo Ink brethren could see.