The Harlequin - 32. Chapter 32

Patrick lay motionless, but aware, as the knife protruded from his chest. The same person who killed Gavin, was there attempting to murder Adam, stood over Patrick holding the handle of the weapon. He saw the inside of his wrist and the tattoo of two dark figures that he knew as the horoscope Gemini.

The Harlequin tried to slow the knife’s descent through flesh and bone, hoping it didn’t puncture Patrick’s heart. He released the knife handle and staggered back as he stared at Patrick, who looked back at him in terror. The Harlequin shook his head in disbelief at what he’d done.

“No—it wasn’t meant for you!” he yelled, not seeing Adam lunge at him full force, knocking him away from the bed and onto his back.

“You, bastard! You stabbed him!” screamed Adam, kneeling above him, naked and pounding his fist into the ceramic mask, which shattered into bits, cutting his bare knuckles repeatedly.

The Harlequin tolerated Adam’s blows momentarily, before flipping him onto his back and rolling away. He reached into his pocket and removed a switchblade. But Adam was ready, and he took a baseball sized statue of an elephant his mother must have bought to brighten up the room and threw it at the man’s head, hitting his target and stunning him.

Adam grabbed the Harlequin’s wrist, backing him up until they reached the wall. He slammed his assailant’s hand against the wall, trying to make him drop the weapon. Even through his mask was in pieces and his vision obscured the killer had the upper hand in strength. He head-butted Adam in the face and gripped his throat with his empty hand, turning and slamming him against the wall. He pulled his wrist free from Adam’s grip as his fingers enclosed around his windpipe. He raised the dagger again, to correct the mistake of not ending Adam life, when a voice stopped him.

“Jay…don’t,” Patrick said, through the anguish of the knife. He stood on shaking legs, supporting himself against the bed frame. Blood seeped between the knife edge and trickled down his chest. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want—just no more…” Patrick dropped to his knees, unable to keep speaking through the pain.

Adam couldn’t believe the grip the man had on him as Jay looked back at Patrick. He pulled off his ski mask and stared at Patrick, his brown hair buzzed close to his scalp, his hard features tight and serious.

“You understand why I need to do this?” said Jay.

“No…Jay…please…” Patrick held onto Adam’s bed frame as his head grew dizzy from the bleeding.

“He has to die! He doesn’t deserve you!” Adam clawed at the large hand around his neck that relaxed enough to let him breathe, but freedom was hopeless.

“Jay…” Patrick was losing consciousness when he heard a familiar voice.

“Drop the weapon and put him down!” ordered A.J., with Artie right behind him, both pointing their weapons at Jay.

Jay said nothing as he turned back to Adam and raised his knife to deliver the killing blow as shots rang out.

Adam landed on his knees, grabbing his neck and coughing for air, when the Harlequin dropped him, spinning toward the unconscious Patrick. He dropped to the floor dead; felled by a bullet to his head and neck.

****************

“Here Potter, put these on before the EMTs get here,” Artie said, holding out a tee shirt and jeans for Adam, who A.J. covered with a blanket. Adam ignored Artie as he held Patrick’s hand and brushed his warm forehead. Patrick had passed out, but was breathing as more of blood pooled at the hilt of the knife. They laid him on his back on the rug. A.J. retrieved a quilt and covered him without disturbing the knife, trying to keep him from going into shock.

“Here Artie, give them to me. I’ll get him dressed,” said A.J.

“I’ve got to get it out him,” said Adam, staring at the knife in Patrick’s chest.

“Adam you of all people know that is a mistake. Let the doctors handle this,” said A.J. leaning in close. He held Adam’s shoulders to prevent him from reaching for the blade.

They heard the sirens. The neighborhood swarmed with police cars and two ambulances.

“I’ll go make sure they can make it up. Adam, I need your key for the elevator,” Artie said. Adam wasn’t paying attention. All his concern was on Patrick.

“Adam, the key to the elevator for the EMTs.” Adam heard that time, jumping from the sound of A.J.’s voice near his ear.

“By the stairs in a bowl; it’s the fat one,” he said, falling back into his trance.

“Adam get dressed so you can go with Patrick to the hospital.”

Adam tugged on the tee, jeans, and a pair of sneakers A.J. grabbed for him.

Patrick turned his head slightly from side to side, then stopped when Adam took his hand again.

“Where the hell are they?”

“They’re coming. I can hear Artie yelling at them.”

The EMTs arrived and prepared Patrick for transport to the hospital by packing first aid gauze around the knife wound. They lifted him onto the gurney and carefully carried him down the steep steps and into the elevator. Adam was close behind, with A.J. forcing a coat on him. When they reach the front door, the cool air didn’t seem to bother Adam as he hastened his steps to keep up with the gurney that was heading towards the red and white truck.

“Adam, we’ll lock up your place. You just worry about Patrick, okay?” called A.J. Adam didn’t answer as he climbed into the back of the ambulance and took Patrick’s hand while the EMT worked on him. A.J. stepped back feeling a bit hurt that Adam didn’t respond but brushed it off as he slowly returned to the building after the ambulance pulled away.

*************

The doctor on call recognized Patrick Valdez and took charge of his care. They wheeled him through double doors, calling out his vitals and forcing Adam to stay behind. The nurse on call told Adam to wait in the lounge as they prep Mr. Valdez for surgery. That was two hours ago.

Adam sat in limbo, waiting for anyone from the staff to give him answers about Patrick’s condition. His thoughts were chaotic as he tried not to think of the worst case scenario with Patrick. His head and mouth wouldn’t stop yawning as he tried to stay alert. But he was alone in the waiting room, and the chair was soft as his eyes and ears shut to the sights and sounds around him.

A rocking motion brought him around as he slowly opened his eyes, and A.J. came into view.

“Adam,” said A.J.

“What,” he stammered and realized he was on his back, with a blanket over him. He tried to sit up and finally experienced the aches Patrick had mentioned he would feel. A.J. helped him into a sitting position. “How did I get like that?” he asked.

“You fell over, exhausted. I asked a nurse for this blanket to cover you with.”

“Patrick, my God, is he…” he tried to stand, but A.J. stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, he’s out of surgery and will pull though. The knife was a hair away from piercing his heart. He’s most likely still under the sedative.”

“What time is it?”

“8:30 in the morning.”

“I was here all night?”

“Yes.”

“Is the doctor around?”

“The doctors or nurses won’t be able to tell you anything about his condition. You’re not his family or husband.”

“I know but—Oh man, his family.”

“They were notified. They had to give their consent to operate.”

“He’s alive.” Adam sighed his relief.

“Yes.”

“What room?”

“Adam--”

“A.J., when it was me, did anyone stop you from trying to see me?” A.J. couldn’t believe Adam brought that up as the vision of him in the hospital with a bullet wound came rushing at him. At first he was just told Adam was shot and in surgery. He was so relieved it was a shoulder wound and not life threating. But that was the third and final time A.J. ever wanted to go through Adam’s recklessness.

“That was a low blow, Adam.” A.J. stood and took a step back from him, remembering why he had to get Adam out of his life.

“A.J. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” he said. Adam rose, holding in the sharp pain coursing through his body. He saw Artie getting off the elevator looking around most likely for A.J. “He’s in the ICU. Room IC334.” A.J. said turning and seeing Artie, who waved at him. When he looked back, Adam was gone.

************

Adam’s pace was steady and swift as he moved down the sterilize hallway towards Patrick’s room. Remembering him with a knife sticking out of his chest was all that was coming to mind. And he wanted that vision gone as he barged through the door.

Patrick lay slightly propped up, with his dressing gown open at the chest where bandages covered his injury. His eyes were open as he lay in a groggy state. That is until he saw Adam enter the room. A weak, warm, welcoming smile spread on Patrick’s cheeks. Adam moved to his side, cupping his face with one hand and kissing his inviting lips. They parted, Adam allowing Patrick to catch his breath as he dove in for another taste.

Patrick didn’t want his detective to stop, but he knew something Adam didn’t. Placing his hand on Adam’s resilient shoulder, he pushed back, but still being tired after the surgery it had little effect.

“What do you think you’re doing with my son?” The voice behind him had a stiff accent that Adam’s brain recalled. He turned, and there stood Raoul Cyprus Valdez, in a leather coat that covered his tailored suit jacket. His auburn hair was combed back, his sideburns trimmed along his jawline, and his square dimple chin and upper lip were clean-shaven. His sad hazel eyes resembled Patrick’s and stared derision at Adam.

A man a few inches shorter stood behind Raoul, dressed just as nice, but looked rough around the edges. His hard looks reminded Adam of guys he met in the military that saw one too many missions. He stood clenching his fist as if he was flexing his joints for a fight.

Adam was about to speak his peace when someone else spoke up.

“Raoul, I believe Mr. Potter is due respect. He is the one who protected our son,” said an enchanting woman who would put Nefertiti to shame. Adam wondered who she was, when he saw Patrick smiling at her.

“Hello, I’m Patrick’s mother, Drusilla Valdez.” She smiled, standing from her seat and extending her hand to him. Adam almost felt unworthy as he touched the baby soft skin that also reminded him of Patrick’s yielding skin, shaking it with care. She slipped her hand free and waved it at her husband. “I believe you already know my husband Raoul Cyprus Valdez?” she asked.

“Yes,” began Adam. “…I’ve met Mr. Valdez.”

“And if I remember, Mr. Potter, I told you to stay away from my son.”

“F—ather,” Patrick tried to sit up, triggering pain in his chest. Adam and Drusilla both moved to settle him back, when someone grabbed Adam’s arm and pulled him away from the bed.

Adam snatched his arm away from the unnamed male. Raoul walked between Adam and his son, who reached for his father’s arm, grasping the sleeve of his coat in desperation to calm his wrath. Raoul reached back to his only child’s arm and squeezed it lightly.

Adam turned back to Patrick, but stood face to face with Raoul.

“Mr. Potter, my son, was nearly killed and is recovering from surgery. I and his mother would like to spend time alone with him. “You can understand that.”

Adam wanted to spit his disagreement back in Raoul’s condescending face, but he swallowed his anger and knew Patrick’s father was right. Adam didn’t have the right to interfere with Patrick’s family celebrating their son’s survival.

“Of course,” Adam said, sucking in his breath as he caught a quick glimpse of Patrick, who apologized and thanked Adam at the same time with his perfect eyes. “I’ll give you time. Apologies for the intrusion.” Adam backed away and turned to the door that was held open by the nameless man. Adam took note of him 5’8, Filipino, short cropped hair that was finger-combed. He was about his build, and had some tribal tattoo crawling up his neck like a claw.

He stepped out of the room, and the door shut behind him. He headed down the hallway towards the waiting room where A.J. and Artie were waiting for him.

“We thought you might come back here,” said Artie.

“Thanks for the heads up about his parents,” Adam said to A.J.

“Would you have cared?”

“I suppose not.”

“Let’s get some breakfast and we’ll fill you in on our harlequin killer,” suggested Artie.

“He’s dead, why should I care?”

“You’re going to want to hear this, Adam,” said A.J.

“Fine, but I’m coming back here to see Patrick when—he’s alone.”

“Fair enough, we’ll even help you get past his bodyguard,” promised Artie.