Chapter 19

Life was one big throb. Alex awoke on the cold floor of the bathroom with his head beating a tattoo all its own.

He stood up stiffly, feeling twinges of pain ranging through his body.

Delicately, he unwound the blood-clotted shirt from his body, wincing as the scabs tore away from his body. He finished stripping and stepped into the shower.

For long moments he stood under the warm water as it washed the dried blood off his flesh. After a while he looked down where the stinging of the water let him know he had been cut.

It wasn't as bad as he had thought. There was a long, red streak of puckered flesh on his belly, but not deep enough to do more than be uncomfortable. And there was a second short, raw wound that set him on fire when he touched it.

His side ached dully as his fingers traced the outline of puffed flesh. The knife had cut just under the skin. If it didn't get infected there would be no need to see a doctor, which was a damned good thing.

Somehow, he didn't think there was any profit to be had in bringing up the matter of the two lead Mexicans he'd left behind him in the street.

He walked into the bedroom and lay down, still naked. Over and over what he had gone through passed through his mind. He felt each step of the unfurling drama--the fear, the surge of strength. All of it. Killers were supposed to feel remorse, he thought, amazed, but he felt nothing but strength and power.

It was dark when he awakened again. The swelling was down on his side and he felt more clear-headed than he had the last time he was conscious.

Dressing awkwardly, trying to avoid bumping the painful wounds, Alex tried to think of what he was going to--how he was going to do it.

The police were out. He shuddered to think of the grilling they would give him over two bodies found lying in a dusty Tijuana street.

No! Whatever was going to have to be done, it would have to be done by him.

On the way out, the clerk looked at him and, for a moment, Alex's heart stopped beating. Was he going to say something about how he stumbled in drunk and bleeding, covered with the blood of two men later found dead?

"Your key, senor?" the clerk asked.

"Oh, si, si!" Alex dug the room key out of his pocket and handed it to the clerk who gravely hung it on a nail in the wall aligned with the rest of the hotel's keys.

"Buenos noches, senor."

"Buenos noches."

Alex stepped into the street and hailed a cab. "Case de Los Angeles," he told the driver.