A Jar of Hearts

by Cartharn, Clarissa

  “Yes, boss,” he mumbled.

  And that’s how easy it was. Mark had given him the go-ahead to murder the man. As long as he ‘spruced’ it up like he said. He leaned against the rails of his verandah, looking out into the wild waves.

  He was the expatriate cleaner of the Pachecos. He was expected to erase the footprints of those assigned to him. That was his job and he was paid handsomely for that. Juan knew he would never be a Pacheco. He was neither blessed into the gang nor taken a thirty-five for initiation. A thirty-five second beating, that is.

  No, he simply held a contract for services. And that meant he was indispensible to Juan. And that included death. He rubbed his jaw.

  Most of the murders that Juan did hire to conduct were of scumbags that deserved it anyway. And Derek Burns was even more of a bastard than any of those he had signed off in all these years. Then why the fuck did he feel so burdened by their deaths?

  He buried his head in his hands. His only redemption was Anne. Only she could save him.

  CHAPTER 17

  He shadowed Burns for a week, looking for a suitable opportunity to off him. But his personal security seemed to hover over him like moths to a flame. If he needed it to look like a suicide, then he would need to find his target at a time when he was alone and without his guards.

  He opened the secret panel to Mark’s task force base and strolled into it.

  “Eric,” Mark said as he led him into his office. “What’s up?”

  “I need help with Derek Burns.”

  “You can’t locate the man?”

  “No,” he replied, slumping into a chair. “Wednesday, in fact, would be the perfect time. Burns is taking a trip to Atlanta. He’s booked a room at Medusa Hotel. As far as I know, his bodyguards won’t be sharing the room with him.”

  “Looks like you did your research. What did you need help with then?”

  “Mark, the guy is six feet tall and weighs about two hundred and twenty pounds. How the fuck do you expect me to make it look like a suicide without beating him to a pulp first?”

  “You want help in handling Burns.” He frowned.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Mark scratched his head. “I suppose not now that you’ve laid out the pertinent details.”

  “You can’t expect Juan’s boys to help me out. We can’t trust them to not babble.”

  “Yeah, that’s not a viable option.”

  “Do we need to kill the guy?” Eric asked, raising his brow.

  “Juan wants him dead and we need to gain Juan’s trust to get to Trent Harvey. It’s a small sacrifice. Besides, I wouldn’t mind getting rid of that scum myself.”

  “Are you saying you’re going to help me?”

  Mark put his hands on his hips, his lips thinned out with deep thought. “What did you have in mind?”

  Eric and Mark sat quietly in their van fully equipped with computers and surveillance monitors. Outside, in the parking lot of the Medusa Hotel, a couple bickered with each other about the disappointment of their night’s affair, unaware that they were overhearing them in the van.

  “Don’t you get into trouble for killing people?” Eric asked with curiosity.

  “Like get arrested for murder like normal people?” Mark smirked as he busily worked on his computer. “No, there are some things that need to be done in order to achieve the bigger goal.”

  Eric swiped his glance over the man’s grayish streaks in his hair and sharp nose. His eyes were a light blue, perhaps dulled over by his many hours of staking out criminal suspects.

  “Was the FBI involved in the JFK assassination?” he asked slowly.

  Mark zoomed a portion of an image on his computer screen. “You think I’d tell you if I knew?”

  “What about Kurt Cobain?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Marilyn Monroe?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Michael Jackson?”

  Mark lifted his head and frowned. “I’ve heard conspiracies that he is still alive.”

  “So he is alive.”

  Mark turned to him. “You have to make up your mind whether he is dead or alive. Come on, you‘ve got to admit that even conspiracies have got to be steady to make them sound the slightest bit credible.”

  The passenger door swung open sharply and Casey climbed into the van. “Here.” She threw a pair of staff uniform at them. “Get changed. Burns just walked into his room and ordered wine and a meal. Here’s his order.” She handed Mark a slip of paper. “You’ve got exactly two hours to pull this off. He has an appointment at ten pm and that means his guards will be checking in on him at least thirty minutes earlier.”

  “Where’s Corey?” Mark asked, already pulling his shirt off. “He needs to keep an eye on the guards and Burns’ doors.”

  “He was setting up the spy cam in the hallway. He should be here soon.”

  Mark set his timer on his watch. “You ready?” he asked Eric.

  They stepped out of the elevator and walked together towards Derek Burns’ room. Eric carried a tray of food while Mark carried a bottle of expensive wine.

  Casey pulled up the skirt of her dress and then pulled down her neckline to reveal more of her cleavage. She pulled off her hair-tie, shaking free her shoulder-length bleached blonde hair and threw a strip of gum into her mouth. “You better call me on time before I get raped by them,” she mumbled as she walked past them and on towards the bodyguards’ room a few doors down.

  Eric knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?” Burns called from inside.

  “Meal service,” Eric answered.

  The heavy set man opened the door and let them in. They walked politely through and placed the food neatly on the table. Mark withdrew his gun from under his wine napkin and pointed it at him.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” Burns screamed out as he stumbled back.

  “Shut up!” Mark said firmly. “Shut your mouth or I’ll put a bullet down your fucking throat!”

  “Sit down!” Eric dragged the man by his collar and threw him into a chair, cuffing his hand to the chair’s arm.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” Burns trembled.

  “You don’t want to know. Just sit still and you’ll be fine.”

  Burns glances faltered between the two men. “Is it money? Who sent you? I’ll pay you double… triple the amount!”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Mark growled. “Get on with it!” he screamed at Eric.

  “What… what is that?” Burns cried when Eric pulled out a syringe.

  “This? It’s just crack. You use them, don’t you?”

  “But… that’s… that’s too much,” Burns whimpered. “That’ll kill me.”

  “You’re a big man. You can take it.”

  “No… no, please,” the man begged, grabbing Eric’s hand. “Why… why…”

  Mark shoved the gun violently into the man’s mouth. “The crack or the bullet, you decide. If you even move just an inch, you’ll set this off,” he minced threateningly between his teeth, his finger holding firmly onto the trigger.

  Burns eyeballed the trigger and froze immediately.

  “That’s a good boy, Derek,” Eric muttered as he pushed the man’s sleeves up. “If you survive this, you can come look for us. No big deal. Now, where is it that you usually inject this thing?”

  He found track marks on his inner arm just as he had suspected and injected the needle into a vein in the vicinity. The key was consistency.

  Burns groaned.

  “Easy now, Derek,” Eric mumbled. “You’ve done this a thousand times. It’s just another doze of crack and it’s on us.”

  He pushed the entire fluid into his vein and then pulled out the needle.

  “Done,” he announced to Mark.

  “Run the bath,” Mark ordered.

  Eric raced over and turned the faucet on. The water gushed out into the bath at full force.

  “Twenty minutes! He’s out, he’s
out!” Mark commentated.

  Eric raced back to Mark who was already pulling off Burns’ clothes. He helped him out with the rest and then nodded as they both carried him to the bath.

  “Easy now,” Mark said. “No bruising.”

  They placed him carefully into the bath and then waited for him to drown.

  CHAPTER 18

  Anne stroked Boot’s head as he lay cuddled in her lap.

  “Anne, Harley’s chasing after the ball,” Ashley squealed excitedly. “I know he will be catching it soon too! I know it!”

  Anne laughed. “I bet he would.”

  Julia dragged a chair beside her. “That dog has sure been the best thing I’ve got her.”

  “She does sound much happier since Harley.”

  The woman grew quiet for a brief while. “James… um… hasn’t been in touch? I haven’t seen him around at all in the last couple of weeks.”

  Anne tensed. He’s probably avoiding me. She lifted Boots up and held him against her chest.

  “Anne,” Julia continued. “You never said how your date went with James. He treated you well, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied quietly. “He treated me well.”

  “That’s… that’s good.”

  Anne lowered her eyes, wondering if she should taint James’ good impression on her. He had wanted sex and she had decided to use him just as he had wanted to use her. She had thought her brash, bold and mindless dive into initiating their lovemaking would protect her from getting hurt. Instead, she had left James’ house more broken than she had entered it.

  She knew she still loved Eric. But then why was her heart fluttering at the mere thought of James? She had loved him touching her. She had shivered when he had kissed her. Her skin would prickle when his naked flesh brushed against hers, caressing it with more than just his hands. And yet in the aftermath of their hot, sensual night, she felt guilty for betraying Eric.

  She closed her eyes. It was only because he felt like him, she reasoned. No other man had ever fluttered her heart like Eric. But here was another and she hated him for letting her wane her feelings for Eric. How could she have betrayed Eric for him? He was a fake and that’s just about as real as he would ever get.

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” she said aloud. “And I hope I would never have to see him again.”

  “Anne, why? Did anything happen between the two of you? You just said he treated you well.”

  “He did. But do you wonder why he hasn’t called or come around since then?” She let Boots leap out of her arms and stood up. “I would rather you not talk about him. We’ve thanked him for his help with the doghouse and so let’s leave it at that.”

  She walked into the house, leaving Julia in a puzzled state. Her housekeeper was not the sort to be impudent to anyone without good reason. Julia would continue her friendship with James and she would just have to be fine with that, so long as she would never have to hear the man’s name again.

  Her eyes welled as she climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. He was the only other man she had given her body to other than Eric. But he wouldn’t take her soul. That belonged to Eric alone.

  James glanced over at the TV screen as the newscaster ran a short story on the suicide of the CEO of Denton Securities, Derek Burns. So they had pulled it off. He wondered if the cops on the case were on with them, or if that was an honest conclusion

  He shook his head. Some things were just going to remain unsolved. He should instead focus on speeding the assassination of Trent Harvey. The faster he could get Juan to agree to a hit, the faster he could be rid of this façade and return to Anne.

  His phone shrilled, its sounds piercing through his thoughts, and he reluctantly picked it up. But it was Julia and he straightened up immediately.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “James?”

  “Yes, Julia.” He frowned, noticing the tension in her voice. “Is everything alright?”

  “Why don’t you tell me? Because Anne won’t say a word. In fact, she doesn’t want to see you again. What exactly did you do to her?”

  I made love to her. He braced himself against the kitchen bench, delving into his memories of his passion filled night with Anne. She hadn’t objected to him then, so why was she angry with him now? He had assumed that she had become reserved the morning after because she was trying to process everything that had happened between them. He had of course once again been wrong. She was quiet because she had hated their night together.

  “I know I said I’d pay you to date her,” Julia continued curtly. “But I meant for you to ignite some life in her so she would be interested in living again. I really thought you would be able to bring her out of her depression, James. But it seems your association has only hurt her more.”

  “Julia-”

  “Let’s just forget that I ever asked you to help us. Goodbye James.”

  The phone went dead and he stared at it long and hard, his heart thumping rapidly inside him. If Julia gave up on him, how would he ever regain an opportunity to correct things with Anne?

  He braced the crown of his head with his hands as he threw it back with frustration. Anne sure did know how to put his emotions through a wringer. He pursed his lips tightly. The fact remained though that he loved her. And it didn’t matter how many times she would put his patience to the test, he was going to find a way to win her back.

  A gust of wind bellowed through the hallway and Anne heard something crash to the floor. That must be Julia’s room. I hope Boots isn’t up to his mischief again.

  She stalled before the door, contemplating whether to investigate the crash. She finally sighed and pushed open the door, walking into the room carefully. If there were any shards of glass, it could hurt Ashley, Boots or Harley. They were always dashing in and out of rooms after all.

  She felt the wind rush through an open window and she instantly turned towards it to shut it. Julia’s voice traveled up into the room and she grew numb at hearing her say his name.

  “James?”

  She shook her head. This wasn’t right. She was eavesdropping. But then something Julia said bolted her feet to the floor.

  “I know I said I’d pay you to date her.”

  Her fist clenched, her tears stung her eyes. So after all it wasn’t just about a hot, sex-filled night. He was being paid to take her out, and had she not found out about it, she had to admit he had done a relatively good job.

  She spun on her heels and turned back towards the door. She wasn’t going to tear up because she had spent one night with an asshole. It was a one night stand and that was all. She had used him for her own gratification as well, hadn’t she?

  Her shoe clanged against an object and she bent down to pick it up. A brass vase. So nothing was broken and nobody was going to be hurt.

  She marched back towards her room. She needed to change. She had an appointment to get to.

  “Can I show you to the dojo?” the cab driver asked her.

  “Thank you, Frank, but I will be fine.” She smiled and extended her white cane.

  She could feel him watching her, making certain she would reach her intended destination even though he knew she would. He’d been dropping her at the dojo ever since she had arrived in San Diego.

  She tapped her way to the door, the familiar sounds of grunting and kicking greeting her.

  “Anne, you’re here for your lesson,” Sandra called out to her.

  “Am I late?”

  “No, you aren’t. Sifu Tsang is though. He’s just brushing up on his lesson with the boys and he’ll be with you soon.”

  “Thanks, Sandra,” she said to the receptionist. “Then I’ll go change into my gear in the meanwhile.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “You really don’t need to, Sandra.”

  “Oh, please. It’s quiet today and I thought we could have a chat in the change room. We hardly get to talk otherwise.”

  Anne grinned. “So long as we don’t get late.
You know how annoyed Sifu gets with tardiness.”

  “I promise you.”

  “Sifu mentioned you were his old wing chun student from Boston,” Sandra said.

  “I was,” she replied, her fingers busily buttoning up the Chinese button knots of her red shirt. “I studied with him for fourteen years.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “Sifu moved to San Diego and I lost the interest to study wing chun under another master.”

  “Were you always interested in wing chun?”

  She smiled as she pulled her hair up into a smooth ponytail. “When I was sixteen, I ran into a couple of thugs who began accosting me. I was saved then by a boy but I promised myself I would never let myself get that afraid again.”

  She fiddled with the ends of her sleeve. A boy she had given her heart to fifteen years later. A man who filled her heart with love and then left her to bear it all alone. What would she do with a heart full of love when the man she loved was no longer a part of her life?

  “Anne, are you okay?” Sandra asked.

  She nodded, pushing her pain to the back of her mind. “A few months ago, I wanted to start my training again and so I moved here to San Diego.”

  “Why Master Tsang? I’m sure there are very capable wing chun teachers in Boston.”

  “There are. But I am blind and not every teacher has the patience or ability to handle such a student. It also takes me longer to master a movement that anyone else would learn in half that time. Sifu Tsang is well aware of my abilities and I feel comfortable with him.”

  She pulled in a deep breath as she sat on the edge of a table. The truth was Sifu Tsang was one of the few people she trusted in her life.

  CHAPTER 19

  James sat at the table, spinning a beer bottle cap.

  “You look so down, hombre,” Juan said, strutting into the living room with two beautiful, barely clad women. He slapped their ass cheeks, sending them off to the pool. “You put down Derek Burns, man. We should celebrate.”