Bloodshade

by Isadora Brown

  I sat in the chair and bundled up in the blanket, trying not to shiver too badly. Robbie didn't like to heat his penthouse unless it was snowing and he was forced to, unless I asked him to. Unless I was here.

  I was able to still keep an eye on Jon from where I sat. My eyes dropped to his chest. When I saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, I was comfortable enough to let myself succumb to sleep.

  - - -

  I could feel eyes on me, even before I opened my own. It was as though the unknown gaze had tugged me out of my slumber and back to my consciousness. I shifted and was immediately plagued with stretched, worn muscles. I was sore and it was hard to move, like I was a robot who had rusted and needed oil. I shifted my head, stretching my neck to the left and then to the right. I let out a groan and finally fluttered my eyes open.

  I met dark eyes just across from me on the bed. They immediately softened when they saw that I was still awake.

  It was odd; a communication passed between Jon and me, just with our eyes. He looked at me and I looked at him and it was as though we were telling each other that we were okay.

  I nearly let out a sob. I didn't know what to expect when it came to Jon. I knew he had been hit by a silver bullet but I didn't know how that would affect him. I saw him breathing last night and that gave me hope, but I wasn't sure how it would change him—if it would change him in the first place.

  Jon reached for me, as though he could sense my relief. I left the vicinity of the chair and went to crawl into the bed with him. It didn't register in my mind how inappropriate or how strange this might be. I never questioned what this might mean or if I should do it at all.

  All I cared about was being close to Jon. Nothing else mattered. Being close to him meant that he would be okay.

  Jon wrapped his arms and the blanket around my body, hugging my back to his chest and burying his face into my shoulder. When I closed my eyes, I felt a tear slide down my face. I reached up to cup the cross, as though thanking God for Jon's safety. Because I knew it had to be God.

  "Don't you ever do that again."

  His mouth was pressed against my bare shoulder. Robbie's shirt was entirely too big for my frame and tended to expose parts of my neck and shoulders like I was some kind of babe from the eighties. I wondered if that was why Robbie was okay with me wearing his clothes in the first place.

  Not that I was thinking about Robbie right now.

  Not when my body was pressed into Jon's. Not with his arms around me, holding me tight. Not with his lips grazing my skin.

  I closed my eyes and gave myself permission to feel, just for that moment. A spark lit up my pelvis and I squeezed the muscles to try to keep my desire at bay. This was completely inappropriate. And Jon was the worst sort of man for me. I couldn't expect a real relationship with him.

  And yet, I couldn't help it. My desire to him was palpable. I was attracted to him in a way that spelled danger and darkness and destruction. But I trotted along, welcoming the disaster. Wanting even a ghost of it to satisfy my cravings for him.

  "Save you, you mean?" I asked, tilted my head to the side so I could try to look behind myself.

  "I was…" He let his voice trail off and he started to chuckle. "Okay. I never thanked you."

  "I don't need to be thanked, Jon," I said. "I just… Are you okay? I saw that bullet rip into you. I thought, I thought—"

  I cut myself off. I was suddenly hit with the urge to cry, which I didn't understand. It was that same feeling I got when I thought about Guzman's thugs almost killing me in my office building. I was fine when I was running. I didn't even think about it. But once I got home, after I was sure I was safe, I couldn't help but shake and cry. Like it only hit me just then that I had practically died.

  "Hey," he said. His voice was lighter than I expected. He tightened his grip on me, and I wasn't sure if it was because he was reassuring me or reassuring himself. "Hey. Nothing happened, okay? I'm right here. I'm solid. I'm here."

  "What does it do to you?" I asked once I trusted myself enough to speak. "The silver?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I never learned before I escaped." His breath on my skin pinched my nerves. I had to slow my breathing down and focus on his words. "But when it hit me, it felt like I had been struck by poison. It's hard to describe. Like lightning ripping open my flesh and gnawing at my insides."

  "You're suffering." Even now, I wasn't sure if I asked him that or if I stated it, like bringing words to his pain. Not that I thought I could know what he felt like. More like I wanted to label it to make my knowledge of it more clear in my mind.

  "Not right now."

  His words caused a chill to run down my spine and a fire to light up my heart. I didn't understand how Jon was able to cause so many conflicting feelings inside of me. I wasn't sure how to handle myself because of them.

  My mouth went dry and I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the feelings that only grew stronger inside of me. I had never looked at Jon like someone who could be a good boyfriend. Even the word was too immature for someone like him. Certainly, I was attracted to him. He had jagged edges and broken bones, sad, angry eyes that never left me no matter how badly I wanted to hide, and had that left me with scratches simply because of how many calluses were permanently etched on them. He was solid muscle—his chest stretching out Robbie's shirt, his arms practically tearing them at the seams. He could snap my neck with his fingers. He could rip my limbs off with his bare hands. He could hurt me and not even realize it. And yet, as he held me close, he was tentative but firm, treating me like some sort of doll. A fragile thing that deserved to be worshipped and cared for, not something to throw around.

  Those feelings he gave me, I couldn't stop myself from wondering what they meant. I certainly didn't know. Perhaps I was foolish for indulging myself in them. For my heart skipping a beat whenever I saw him. At least I knew he was safe. At least I knew he was alive and well. Before now, I hadn't seen him in months. And he came back at the time when I needed him the most. He saved my life. He risked exposing himself for me.

  He was just as big of a fool as I was.

  Sometimes, I saw the way he looked at me, the way his eyes would darken ever so slightly, linger for a beat longer than they should. And I knew, I knew it probably meant nothing. Maybe he was thinking about something that had absolutely nothing to do with me. But maybe… maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had conflicting feelings about me too.

  And that possibility, that thin, flimsy shred of a possibility, caused me to hold onto things I should have let go of so long ago. But everything I had pushed down, everything I had forgotten about since he left, suddenly came rushing back to the forefront of my body as if to say, Surprise, bitch.

  "You okay?" Jon's mouth was just by my ear and I closed my eyes and muffled a sob. My eyes were tearing up and I didn't know why. I was crying so much more than I was used to, and I hated it. I hated expressing my feelings in this way, but since I couldn't think of any other way to do it, they pushed out on their own without asking my permission.

  No.

  I wasn't okay.

  I had nearly lost Jon. I had nearly died. We stumbled upon evidence that might prove my uncle right. I had no idea what I wanted to do anymore because now Jon was risking himself to save me, Robbie was doing the same, and I was tired of making the wrong choices while trying to do the right thing.

  And yet, as Jon held me, all of the pain and confusion and anger slowly faded out of me.

  "I'm okay," I forced myself to say.

  "Don't do that," he whispered. "Don't do that shit. Don't bullshit a bullshitter."

  "What do you want me to say, Jon?" I asked. I rolled over so I could look him in the eye but didn't realize how close that made me to him. I had to tilt my head down and focus on his Adam's apple in order to calm myself down. But my nerves were still at attention simply being this close to him. "I almost lost you. I almost died. I almost—"

  "I would have ripped his skin off and forced it down his
throat if that would have happened," he told me, his voice jagged, like shards of glass. "You hear me? I will always come for you. The world could be on fucking fire and I would walk through it to get to you."

  I swallowed. I couldn't respond. How was I supposed to respond to that? There was too much I wanted to say, and yet, words failed. My weapon of choice wasn't there for me when I needed it the most.

  "No," I finally said after a moment. "I'm not okay."

  He held me tighter to him and I let myself melt into him. No other words were spoken. No other words were needed. All that mattered was this moment.

  I knew I needed to do something with the evidence we found. I knew I would need to get it to Estrada. But for now, I let myself pretend there was no one else in the world except Jon and me and this bed, and I let myself fall asleep slowly.

  I didn't know how it was possible, but even after what happened, after almost dying again, Jon still had the power to make me feel safe.

  Chapter 20

  I didn't feel comfortable leaving the safety that Robbie's penthouse provided, but I knew if I was going to get what I wanted—the evidence to Estrada—getting out was the only way.

  Jon was adamantly against it, of course. Now that he was feeling better and the silver was out of his body, he was opposed to me leaving the penthouse completely. Robbie agreed.

  "What if I got him the evidence?" Robbie asked on the third day. We were all in Robbie's kitchen eating Chinese food—Robbie's favorite go-to takeout meal. In truth, I was getting over takeout and wished I knew someone who would cook a meal out of the kitchen. "You don't have to leave here at all."

  "Why are you both so worried about me?" I asked. I didn't bother to keep the annoyance out of my tone. My chopsticks had chow mein hanging from them but I didn't have the heart to put the noodles in my mouth. Which sucked, because chow mein was one of my favorite Chinese foods. "Let me rephrase. I know why you're worried about me. But your worry is not going to protect me when I eventually have to leave this place—even if it's to go grocery shopping."

  "Who says you need to go grocery shopping?" Robbie asked. "We can order food online. Anything you want."

  "And I suppose Jon is staying put too, right?" I dropped my chopsticks in my Styrofoam container and looked across the dining table at Jon. He still had bruises around his eyes and I was sure his body was completely torn up. Currently, he was in Robbie's sweatpants and a t-shirt, but because Robbie was a few inches shorter than Jon was, the T-shirt was tight against his chest and the sweatpants reached his calves. "I mean, they want him dead more than they want me dead."

  Jon had the decency to look away. Robbie didn't. He knew he was being unfair with the whole thing and he didn't care.

  I rolled my eyes like a petulant child and crossed my arms over my chest. I’d already called Estrada.

  "What if," Robbie said slowly, after finishing up a bite of teriyaki chicken. "What if we brought Estrada here?"

  "And risk Jon?" I asked. "No way."

  I felt Jon's eyes linger on me but I didn't look at him. I didn't want to.

  "I need to go to him," I said. "I promise I'll be careful."

  "Bullshit," both men said at once.

  "Look," I said. This time, I narrowed my eyes at Jon. "If I hadn't taken that risk to go to Yvonne's office, who knows what would have happened to you? Asher Grey caught you and he nearly killed you. Jon, you were unconscious for five, ten minutes. You were lucky I was there."

  "Do you think I don't know that?" he asked, his voice booming.

  Robbie frowned, his body tensing. We all knew Jon would never hurt me—even Robbie had to admit that. But that didn't mean Robbie liked when Jon got passionate about something.

  "You don't get to talk to her that way in my house," Robbie said.

  Jon said nothing. He clenched his teeth. I could tell he was upset, but whether that was because of how he talked to me or because of Robbie, I didn't know.

  "I'm not risking Jon," I said.

  "And we're not risking you."

  I took in a breath and slowly released it. "It has to be me," I said. I was trying to keep my temper, trying not to let it flare up. I reminded myself that they were just trying to protect me, that they didn't want to see me hurt. That was it. There was no reason to be offended, even if I was. "Robbie, if you go, Estrada is going to associate you with me. I trust Estrada with the truth, but he's a detective who cares more about the law than anything or anyone else. I know your job is practically illegal. You're on multiple Wanted lists even though people don't know it's you."

  "People think I'm a recluse billionaire," Robbie said. "Like Batman or Iron Man."

  "Not like Iron Man," I corrected. "Iron Man likes being in the spotlight. You don't."

  "What's your point?" Jon said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He kept bouncing on the balls of his feet, like this whole thing made him antsy. "You got decent coffee around here? Not the shit she makes where you put it in the microwave, but actual coffee?"

  "Do I have real coffee?" Robbie rolled his eyes. "Please. I have offered to buy her a coffee machine myself. She refuses."

  "Not surprised," Jon muttered. "Fucking stubborn as a mule."

  "You want French roast?" Robbie asked, heading to his kitchen. "Sumatra dark roast is good but it's strong. Breakfast blend's not bad. I mean, Starbucks doesn't put out bad coffee, you know? Pike Place Roast is a personal favorite of mine. I also have a caramel flavored one and a vanilla flavored one, but those are sweet so I'm not sure if you like that. Verona's good too."

  "Uh…" Jon let his voice trail off. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing. He didn't know what to do with all those choices presented to him. "Get me whatever you're having. As long as it's not decaf. Or sweet."

  Robbie chuckled. "A man after my own heart," he said. He pulled out the coffee and started fiddling with it in the kitchen, leaving me and Jon in his workspace.

  "I'm going," I told Jon again. "I'm not even trying to get involved with the mayor. I'm keeping my head down. But this, this is important. This could be enough to finally open up a case against the whole fucking family. This…" I let me voice trail off. "This could help you too."

  He looked away. The furrow in his brow only got deeper, like he was upset I would even consider what helped him in the grand scheme of things.

  "I don't care about me," he said. I didn't know why his voice was nothing but a whisper. I glanced to my left and then to my right, but Robbie was still in the kitchen, preparing the coffee.

  "You should," I returned. "You nearly—" I stopped myself from even finishing the thought.

  "Hey." He reached for my face, grabbed me cheeks in his hands. They were rough, callused, and warm. But not damp or sweaty. It was easy for me to tell her worked a lot with his hands. Somehow, despite the fact that it felt like scratches on my face, I also felt relieved that he was touching me in the first place. I felt like putty in his hands, willing to be molded into whatever he wanted to craft from me. "I didn't, okay? I didn't. Because of you."

  I couldn't look at him. I reached up and took his hands in mine, not to remove them from my face, but to grip onto him. It was as though now that I knew Jon was all right, everything from what happened last night came crashing down on me, reminding me what could have happened. Reminding me that Jon was so close to being taken from me.

  "I'm not going to let you risk yourself for me again," he insisted. His forehead rested on mine and he looked deep into my eyes, as though he wanted to make a point. I didn't want to acknowledge that statement. I didn't like to think that Jon was pushing me away because he was scared that something might happen to me. To me, that translated into he didn't think I was capable of holding my own. Maybe I should take Robbie up on those self-defense classes.

  "You can't talk me out of this," I said. "I'm sorry, Jon, but it has to be me. You're on every paper, every news outlet. There's a pretty big reward. The government wants their technology back. And Robbie has been in hidin
g for years. He's done such a good job burying himself that if he were to even drop off paperwork at a corrupt police station for Estrada, he would be exposed. It has to be me."

  "It doesn't," Jon said, but I pulled away from him. He didn't understand. "We can get Estrada the files at night when no one is there. I can break into the station myself."

  "Perry PD has over six hundred officers of varying ranks in order to assist a population for a city the size of 1.2 million. They're constantly understaffed but there is always someone at that station, Jon." I shook my head again. "It has to be me."

  I shifted my shoulders. This was not something I was going to budge from. Robbie could make decisions about computer hacking, Jon could make decisions about killing, and I could make decisions about evidence and how to distribute it. Evidence I found myself.

  "I'll be back," I called as I headed for the door. "I shouldn't be longer than a half-hour."

  "So you're saying," Robbie said slowly, "if you're not back in a half-hour, we should worry?"

  I shook my head. I had wanted to do something, something I didn't want to really talk about with anyone, especially Robbie and Jon.

  "I'm going to grab dinner for us," I said. If I remembered. I hugged the files close to my body.

  "You should probably take my car," Robbie said, standing up. He started patting his chest, as though he didn't know where his keys were. "It'd be safer."

  I shook my head. "I'll take the transport," I said. "I don't mind." I didn't want a lecture. I didn't want to see Robbie run his hand down his face and dramatically roll his eyes to the side and scratch the scruff that accumulated on his face. I didn't want to watch any of it. Plus, Estrada would be heading to lunch soon, and I didn't want to miss him. Holding onto these files was starting to get heavy and I didn't want to carry this around when anyone could be after it.

  I nearly made it out the door before a hand was on my shoulder, gently tugging me around so I was forced to look behind me into dark eyes.