“Beautiful.”
“Passionate.”
“His subjects make you believe in love.”
He was assumed to be an older man though there were no details on his exact age. There wasn’t a single picture of him anywhere on the web and no way to contact him.
All correspondence went through the Boulder gallery that handled his work and the owner was fiercely loyal to Mr. Jacob’s privacy.
A few examples of his photographs were available online and Jared’s heart raced as he recognized several Kendall had taken of strangers in Tomina and others she once displayed on her walls in the basement.
It was the longest flight in history.
Sissy picked him up from the airport. “I know you’re in a hurry and my baby drives like an old man. I left him to watch the kids. I about died when Big bought that piece and told me it was for you. I need more information but he turned into a mute all of the sudden.”
“I can’t tell you, Sissy. It might be nothing.”
The sweet woman went out of her way to chat, trying to take his mind off his wait. She was a real sweetheart.
As she pulled to the curb in front of his hotel, she smiled. “I hope it’s not nothing. I haven’t seen Big so hyped up in years. You either. The gallery delivered it to your room.”
He kissed her cheek with a rushed thank you and ran inside.
Checked in, he rode the elevator to his floor. He was shaking so badly, he could barely get the door open.
The photograph faced the entry. Waiting for him.
Closing the door, he let his bag and key card fall to the floor. Dropping to his knees in front of it, he reached out to make sure it was real.
It was one of the many photos Kendall took of them in her basement room. One he hadn’t seen but recognized instantly.
His hand covered her breast nearest the camera and her head was thrown back, only her cheek and the edge of her mouth were visible. His own head was bent, his mouth at her neck, his brow and cheek the only part of his features exposed.
“Kendall…”
Jared remembered every moment of that afternoon and it made him instantly hard to the point of pain.
She’d set up the tripod and both of them were nervous. Eventually, they got so caught up in each other that they tuned out the camera.
It clicked away softly every twenty seconds.
Unable to bear the tension another moment, Jared stripped his shirt over his head and sat on the sofa. Opening his jeans, he stared at the photo and wrapped his fist around his cock.
Stroking slowly, he recalled how playful they were that day, how she’d sucked him, and made him wait forever to come.
When she finally let him have the release he craved, Jared pulled her over his face and ate her while she worked against his mouth. The way she moaned above him had given him chills.
Once they recovered, she positioned them so the camera caught their sides. She lowered herself on him, her legs on either side of his as he knelt on his knees, relaxed back on his heels.
Their goal was always mutual pleasure. They were never in a rush, never selfish. He suspected they’d loved one another from the beginning.
Kendall came apart in his arms and collapsed against his shoulder while he thrust hard and deep inside her. His own climax tore through him as he moaned incoherently.
By the time he replayed the entire memory, Jared’s balls were drawn painfully tight. His hand moved faster over his length and his blood boiled with the need to come.
The orgasm clawed its way from his low back and the tops of his thighs, his semen exploding from his body and splattering his chest.
Kendall’s name was a broken whisper in the silence.
When he pumped himself dry and the shaking eased, he exhaled roughly. More than ever, he had to find her.
She still thought about him.
Maybe she still loved him.
There was no other explanation for her choosing to display such a photo of the two of them. Part of him thought she might have been sending a signal into the universe.
He refused to ignore it.
Jared used his shirt to clean his come from his chest and belly. Another glance at the photo made his spent cock twitch.
He took out the photo of Kendall laughing in bed. For almost a decade, he’d carried it in his wallet. It was creased and worn along the edges.
Showering and dressing as quickly as possible, he made a list in his head. Somewhat presentable in jeans and a button-down with boots, he headed downstairs.
It was time to find the woman who haunted him.
Chapter Eleven
July 2016
Kendall Torres was anonymous at last.
The only price for her anonymity had been leaving behind all hope of ever resuming her real life. To the rest of the world, Giavanna Moreno Garcia was dead.
She had to stay that way.
Many fragments finally came together to allow her a small semblance of normalcy and something of a life.
A little over a year before, H’s source in the D.C. morgue spotted a young woman matching Kendall’s description who was found dead of a drug overdose.
She carried no identification, matched no missing persons reports, and no one claimed her body. It was assumed she’d been a lifelong street person.
Under surveillance by the drug cartel that had destroyed his brother’s family, her Uncle Franco traveled to the United States to identify and claim the body.
Even he was shocked at the resemblance between the nameless woman and the niece he hadn’t seen in a decade.
Franco contacted a funeral home and arranged for the young woman to be shipped to Colombia so she could be laid to rest in their family plot. He traveled with the body.
An open-casket memorial was held once the unknown woman was made to resemble Giavanna even further.
When the man who provided her documents contacted her and explained the situation, Kendall sealed more than a foot of her own hair in a bag and dropped it in a location he designated.
She’d never met the man face to face but his number was always the first one she entered in her burner cells. He’d never betrayed her in all her years of running.
Shaking the entire way to the drop spot, certain H had been compromised, convinced it was a trap set by the cartel, Kendall was shocked when she wasn’t killed that day or the ones that followed.
Three weeks later, she received an email at the address H had assigned Kendall after her father was killed.
Hello, sweetheart.
I wanted to let you know that it’s done.
The unknown woman’s head was shaved to the scalp and your hair was carefully attached. Several of your hairs with roots present were placed inside the coffin. A duplicate of your locket containing pictures of your parents was placed around her neck.
Your entire family attended the funeral. They loudly, openly, and honestly grieved the violent loss of your beloved mother and father as well as the young girl who spent her life running. A girl, now a woman grown, they know they will never see again.
Their tears were very real.
Two unknown men arrived at the church and spoke to no one. Large photos of the Moreno Garcia family in happier times were displayed around the casket.
One of the men took photos of the mourners and the body while the other clipped a section of the girl’s hair.
They didn’t stay or sign the guest book.
They showed no sadness over the death.
The lost woman who took your place was cremated immediately following the service. Her ashes were placed in an urn and buried between the graves of your parents.
There is a granite marker that bears the Moreno Garcia name with your given names carved beneath. It’s rather beautiful and I feel that laying that young woman to rest in such a location was fitting, given what she’s provided.
Franco held a party after the urn was buried. Hundreds came to pay their respects to Rodrigo, Antonia, and Giavan
na.
Only your uncle knows the truth, K.
The cartel bought the ruse. It marks the beginning of a new life, a real life, for you. It will give your uncle a sad peace to know that you live...despite being unable to see you.
I’ve included photos of the funeral, the reception afterward, and keys to a secure loft in Manhattan. I’d like you to stay there for one year in complete seclusion. I’ve attached a list and photos of the people who will bring you whatever you need, but don’t go outside.
The year is necessary to ensure all pursuit is finished. After that, I think you will well and truly be free of this nightmare.
I know this is a bittersweet victory but it’s a victory nonetheless. Contact me for any reason.
H
For hours, Kendall painfully grieved her parents, the family she could never contact again, and the unfortunate girl who’d died alone in the world...and given another girl who was alone in the world a chance to survive.
* * *
At the end of a year of never leaving the confines of the Manhattan loft, Kendall answered her cell phone with a smile.
“Miss K.”
“Mister H.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Going out of my goddamn mind stuck here. It’s gorgeous but I’ve worn out the treadmill and stationary bike.”
He chuckled on the other end of the line. “I understand. You’ve been patient.”
“Tell me you have good news…”
“I’ve had three people running surveillance on the cartel. Your name hasn’t come up officially in eight months. It’s been much longer since your parents have been mentioned.”
She heard what he wasn’t saying. “But it came up?”
“One of the only members of the old guard who survived the slaughter mentioned your father. He didn’t like the way the situation was handled. Said Rodrigo was an honorable man. He regretted that his young wife was killed and that they’d stolen his daughter’s life to protect their thug who didn’t have clearance to commit the murder Antonia witnessed.”
Kendall clenched her fist. “Regrets from an old man hoping his sins don’t follow him when Saint Peter has questions.”
“Hmm. My thoughts exactly. Other than that, they haven’t mentioned you by name. Are you ready for me to set you up in some gorgeous location where it never snows?”
Considering, she answered, “I want to stay in the Northwest.”
“You can’t…”
“I won’t. I know the risks. I don’t even care about myself but if he was killed...I’d never forgive myself.”
There was a long pause. “My people speak highly of you, K. Red and Hush are two of my closest friends. They mentioned your photographs.”
Staring around at the hundreds of photos she’d developed in the darkroom she’d created in the loft, she smiled. “It’s a bit of an obsession.”
“More like your passion.”
“You could say that.”
“How would you feel about setting up house in Colorado? The Boulder area specifically? There’s an ongoing protection detail there and adding some muscle for you wouldn’t be hard. A friend of my family has a gallery there.”
“I can’t show my work publicly…”
“You can if you take on a new identity. Your last identity. You don’t have to appear at exhibits to share your art.”
“Kendall Jacobs.”
“Ken Jacobs was one of your father’s identities.”
“I know. See if you can work it out. Kendall Torres has been a dead ID for a decade but...I’ve always felt like Kendall. I can show under Ken and everyone will assume I’m a male.”
“I like it.” There was typing on the other end of the line. “I’ll get the ball rolling. Things should be ready in a week or so. Be ready to start fresh, Miss Jacobs.”
“Thank you, H.”
“Call me Hollow.” Another long pause. “No. You can call me Hayden. Something tells me we’ll meet in the most unexpected circumstances in the future.”
“I’d like the chance to shake the hand of the man who helped keep me alive.”
“And I’d appreciate the opportunity to look into the eyes of a woman who experienced so much trauma and yet captures nothing but beauty through her camera lens. I’ll be in touch.”
Walking to the big windows looking out on a dog park below, Kendall wondered if Jared still thought about the girl she used to be and if he’d like the woman she grew into.
No matter the temptation, she’d never know.
Chapter Twelve
August 2016
Answering her phone with a smile as she prepared to leave for the market, Kendall said, “Hayden. It’s been months.”
“I’ve been busy saving the world.”
“That would be bullshit if anyone else said it. How are things?”
“Oh no. I’m calling to congratulate you on the exhibit. Caroline wrote that every piece sold and she has special orders for pieces that weren’t on display.”
Laughing, she confessed, “I’ve been pretty high today. I had no idea people would respond to it like that.”
“Now you know. The mysterious Ken Jacobs has quite the write-up in the local papers. Make sure you pick up some copies. Start a scrapbook or whatever people do.”
“How suburban.” He chuckled. “Anything interesting?”
“Interesting? Always. Nothing dangerous on the horizon. I’ve been trolling the dark web and cartel recordings all day.”
She frowned. “Any particular reason?”
“I like to be prepared. People are such fascinating and impulsive creatures. Things are quiet about you and your family. Nothing new.”
“That’s excellent news. I’m afraid to hope.”
“I feel confident you’ll be safe now. The man your mother witnessed committing murder is dead. Most of the cartel lieutenants are dead, including the three men who killed your father.” He cleared his throat. “Kenny…your uncle sent me photos of your parents and some personal effects. I’d like to have it couriered to you if you don’t mind waiting for it.”
“It’s the last package…?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
Another connection to her past, severed. “I know he must be tired. I’ve needed so much help since Dad died.”
“In order for you to have a life, all ties with your past must be cut. He’s the last link.” The silence drew out. “He hasn’t known your location since your father was murdered.”
Her eyes widened. “He didn’t know where I was?”
Hollow chose his words carefully. “Your uncle is a good man and an honest one. He’s done amazing things to keep you safe. At the end of the day, he’s a furniture maker.”
“Not a crime boss.”
“Exactly. No matter how careful he is, he doesn’t understand the technology criminal organizations have access to and the lengths they’ll go to fulfill their directives.”
What Hollow wasn’t saying slowly filtered into her mind.
Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Since Dad died, it’s been you.” She swallowed hard. “You kept me alive.”
“You kept yourself alive by being smart, by making sacrifices, and always listening to advice.”
She allowed the information to process. “Why go to such lengths to help a girl you didn’t know?”
“A long time ago, when I was in a bad place, I met your mother. Her university was touring the churches and shelters in New York. She wanted to improve how addicts were treated in Colombia. She approached me at an AA meeting after I told my story. Her words changed my life.”
In a whisper, she asked, “What did she say?”
“She told me the universe requires balance. That whatever hurt me, changed me, could not be erased but it could be balanced by my actions. I believed her. I’ve tried to live my life by that philosophy.” He inhaled carefully. “When I learned of her death, I contacted your father and got you both out of Colombia.”
“You’re welcome. Did I catch you on the way out?”
“Just heading to the market. I want to pick up flowers, some hard to find film, and have lunch. Why? Are you in town?”
“Actually, I have some things to check on here for another assignment. I swung by the gallery before the show last night. Brilliant work, Kenny.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll be busy today but I might take you up on the offer to meet in the next few days. We have several secure locations in and around Boulder.”
“Let me know.”
“I will. Enjoy the market, Kenny.”
“Fresh air, sunshine, and my favorite little cafe. I’m going to soak it up.”
“I’m here if you need me.” She thought he hung up when he added, “Live the life you deserve. I’ll keep watch.”
An hour later, Kendall was still lost in thought when there was a knock on the door. It didn’t inspire the terror it once had. Accepting the package from a man who didn’t look like a delivery man, the H in the upper corner of the box told her it was safe to open.
She went through photos - some she’d forgotten and others she’d never seen. The pieces of her mother’s jewelry that her father left with Franco when they ran were carefully wrapped in small velvet pouches.
There was a photograph of a man standing beside her young mother tucked inside a separate envelope. Their arms were around one another’s backs and their smiles were genuine.
These are the items your uncle sent me. He said to tell you that he kept your father’s second favorite watch and hoped you didn’t mind.
There’s also a picture of me with your mother taken when she was here in the United States. I didn’t remember it being taken but I was glad to see it. Antonia spoke often of the man she loved and her little girl. She liked to say you had “sparkle.” She would love the woman you became.
Dirty Little Secret: The Damaged Series - Book One Page 7