Secret Love

by Tabatha Drake

“Sammy, down!” Mrs. Clark tells him. She rests her hand on his head and gestures him back to the porch. “It’s just Fox.”

  “Bit late to still be up, isn’t it?” I ask, eying the dog. He keeps his snout trained on me, as he always does around those he senses could be a danger to her. I’d be offended, but honestly, he’s not wrong.

  “Well…” Her little nose crinkles up, accentuating the wrinkles on her aged face. “I saw you sneaking out a few hours ago. Figured I’d wait up for you.”

  “You know you don’t have to do that,” I say, smiling at her.

  “I know I don’t have to, but I wanted to. An old lady like me doesn’t have much else going on. I was about twenty minutes away from packing it in…” she raises a silver eyebrow, “but now that you’re here, you might as well tell me all about her.”

  “All about who?”

  “Whatever hot, young thing you went out with this evening.”

  I shake my head. “There was no hot, young thing, Mrs. Clark.”

  “Well, why the hell not?” she says, her fingers wrapping around the dog tags hanging from her neck. Another proud reminder of Larry she always keeps with her. “You’re too good-looking to sit around out in the middle of nowhere with me all day and night.”

  “If I don’t, then who will keep your spunky ass company?”

  “I’ve got Harvey here,” she says. Her hand taps against the shotgun leaning against the wall next to her chair. “And Sammy, of course.”

  I laugh and scratch an itch on my chin through my beard. “You’re right. Who can compete with that?”

  “Seriously, kiddo,” she says. “Don’t let me and my bum hip hold you back. There’s a world full of good pussy out there and you’re the best brand of catnip money can buy.”

  “And with that, I’m going to call it a night,” I say, barely able to speak through my laughter. “Goodnight, Mrs. Clark.”

  “Goodnight, Fox.”

  I look at the dog. “Goodnight, Sammy.”

  He stands to attention with twitching lips, ready to bark if I make any sudden movements.

  Mrs. Clark grabs his collar to hold him in place. “Chill out, Sammy. He’s not an actual fox…”

  I keep my hands exposed at my sides and walk slowly away to keep him calm until I reach the cabin door.

  It’s a small, one-room cabin, but I don’t need much more space than that. My life is far simpler now than it used to be. I just need a few pairs of clothes and a place to sleep. It’s not much, but it’s enough, and it’s far more than I had on the bad days during my deployment overseas.

  I trudge into the corner kitchen and grab a beer from my fridge. The cold alcohol tickles on the way down and settles in my gut. Soon, it’ll turn me numb and I’ll pass out. That’s the only way I can get myself to fall asleep as of late.

  Dani.

  Even a cheap knock-off like Darla isn’t enough anymore. Part of me wants to say fuck it and drive back home to Los Angeles. I’ll walk right up to her front door and step inside. I won’t even knock. I’ll let myself in, but she won’t care as soon as she sees my face. I can just picture it now. She’ll gasp and throw a hand over her mouth.

  “Fox?!” she’ll say. “You’re alive?”

  And then, I’ll apologize. I’ll say how sorry I am that I fucked her on her birthday, joined the army the next day, and left for basic training the next. I’ll say that I’m sorry I volunteered for deployment the first chance I could and never came home again.

  And the biggest one of all… I’ll apologize for making my family believe I’ve been dead for the last two years.

  Shit. Maybe my life isn’t as simple as I thought.

  Chapter 3

  Fox

  I nudge the door open and step into the farmhouse, carefully balancing several grocery bags in my arms as I go.

  “Is that you, Fox?”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Clark,” I answer. “It’s me.” I walk into the kitchen and set the bags on the counter.

  Mrs. Clark sits in her recliner across the room, staring at the television in the corner. The sound is at full blast, the only volume she can hear it at anymore and her eyes aren’t great for reading subtitles. I don’t mind it much. It’s the perfect volume for action movies and Mrs. Clark loves her action movies. She invites me over several times a week to watch whatever new movies have come out. It’s really the closest thing I have to fun anymore.

  She quickly grabs the remote to turn it down before spinning around in her chair to look at me. “Thanks again for running my errands,” she says. “Would have done it myself if it weren’t for this damn hip. Can’t wait for the warm weather to come back…”

  I flash her a smile. “You know I don’t mind. Everything still goes in the same place?” I grab the bread from the top of a bag and spin around to stick it in the bread box on the counter.

  “You don’t have to do that. I can put it away.” She pushes herself out of the chair slowly and walks into the kitchen. “But if you got a minute to spare, the light in the bathroom went out.”

  “Again?”

  “Must be a bad wire or something.”

  “I’ll take a look at it.”

  I place the gallon of milk in the fridge and head down the hallway toward the bathroom.

  “Thank you, Fox!” she calls after me with a sweet voice. “What would I do without you?”

  “Fall and die, I suppose,” I joke.

  I step up onto the toilet seat and unscrew the crème-colored globe to get at the bulb.

  “Well, you’re not wrong about that,” she says. “Hey, you see the news today?”

  “Nope.” I twist the bulb and the light comes back on. “Looks like it was just loose.”

  “That girl you like is all over it.”

  “What girl?”

  “That Rocky girl.”

  I pause. “Roxie Roberts?”

  “Yeah, that one!” she says. “From those Trial movies we watched.”

  I step off the toilet and walk back into the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “See for yourself.” She points at the television. “It’s on every channel.”

  I grab the remote and put the volume back up. Correspondents sit around a table, barking theories back and forth over snippets of news footage. Ticker tape scrolls along the bottom, warning that the footage might be disturbing to some viewers. After what I’ve seen, I tend to ignore warnings like that.

  The footage starts with Senator Ronnie Lamb standing at a podium with his arm wrapped around a young woman.

  Dani.

  The ends of my lips twitch, just like they always do when I see her. Lamb quickly casts her aside and she takes a step back, her face shining with a polite expression, although I can tell how tortured she is.

  I spot the black ropes falling down in the windows behind them and the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I focus on them until two black bodies swing down and crash through the glass.

  Dani falls forward and my heart lurches in my chest.

  “Run, Dani…” I whisper, wishing for it to come true, but she stays on the floor with wide eyes. Terrified, frozen in her fear.

  The two men in black force Lamb to his knees and place their pistols on the back of his head.

  Snake Eyes. One bullet through each eye. It’s their specialty.

  They pull the triggers and Lamb’s body crumbles to the floor. Dani doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even look away from the blood creeping toward her shoes.

  “Move…”

  Lamb has been pissing people off on both sides of the aisle for over thirty years. It was only a matter of time until someone offed him, but I would never have expected Snake Eyes to take the job. They don’t make a show out of it like this. The snake comparison doesn’t end with a bullet in each eye. They value stealth above all other skills. A hit in broad daylight? In front of a dozen news cameras? Someone wanted this to be very, very public.

  They wanted to send a message.

  I grit my teeth as o
ne of them reaches behind his back. He pulls out his knife and leans over Dani, wrapping his thick fingers around her neck.

  Mercer. I’d recognize him anywhere.

  Anger swells in my chest as he scratches his blade across Dani’s cheek and blood spills down her face. I feel the pain of it myself, carving up my face from my lips to my ears. I run my fingertip along my own scar on the same cheek, the one I keep hidden behind a beard.

  So, that’s what this is. Lamb isn’t the target. He’s the perfect patsy. The news media will argue day and night over who is behind his assassination, but it was never about him or his policies. They needed this to be big.

  They wanted to make sure I’d notice.

  I step closer and watch as he leaps out the window. It’d be optimistic to think the police caught them. They’re way too good for that.

  I know because I used to be one of them.

  “Horrible, isn’t it?”

  I look at Mrs. Clark. “Yeah. It is.”

  “Poor girl. She’ll be scarred for life.”

  Or what’s left of it.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Clark,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

  She mutters a response and slides back down into her chair while I step outside.

  Snake Eyes and I didn’t exactly part on good terms. There’s only one way out of Snake Eyes and that’s with two holes in your skull, not unlike the execution of Ronnie Lamb. I wasn’t about to go out like that and in order to escape them, I had to improvise.

  Somehow, Mercer has figured it out, but Mrs. Clark’s guest house has done its job. He can’t find me, so he’s going after the one person I care about to draw me out. Slicing Dani’s cheek was a warning meant only for me.

  Show yourself or she’s next.

  I knock on Mrs. Clark’s door and patiently wait while Sammy growls and barks at me through the window.

  “Calm your tits, Sammy! It’s just Fox.”

  I grin to hide my real expression as she opens the door. “Hey,” I greet.

  She keeps the door open wide and walks back inside toward the kitchen. “Come on in, honey. You hungry? I was just about to make a sandwich and I’d be happy to make two.”

  I close the door behind me. “No, thanks. I just stopped by to let you know that I need to do some last-minute traveling.”

  “Oh?” She bends down to pull some lunch meat from the refrigerator and snatches a clean butter knife from the drying rack by the sink. “Where you off to?”

  “Just…” I hesitate and tap a finger against the counter. “A family thing.”

  She raises an inquisitive brow. “I was beginning to think you didn’t have one of those…”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  I look down at Sammy. He’s still on full alert, sitting directly between me and his master. I haven’t had blood on my hands for a while now, but this mutt can still smell it on me. Always has.

  “Anyway, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone but I wanted to let you know.”

  “Don’t you worry about me, Fox.” She handles the butter knife with more precision than you’d expect from her old, pale hands, an after effect of her years as a trauma nurse. It’s what I like most about her. She’s not at all squeamish and could easily handle herself it if weren’t for that hip. “I’ve got Sammy and Harvey to keep me company.”

  “Right.” I flash a genuine smile. “Take care, Mrs. Clark.”

  “You, too, kiddo.”

  I rub my hands together as I make my way toward my car. The cold has lingered longer than necessary, teasing a spring just over the horizon. I look around, taking in my last lungful of Iowa farm air, memorizing the picturesque world around me. Big farmhouse, the guest cabin, even the old barn out across the field. I rub my hands together again. They always feel a little cold, at least… until the moments before a kill. Then, I have to submerge them in ice water to make them feel normal again. I feel that warmth now, reigniting a feeling in me I thought was lost.

  I lower myself into my car and sit back against the seat. Here I am, doing the exact thing I told myself I would never do again. Not just for my own safety, but for my family’s as well. My mother. My stepfather. Dani. Each one of them will be in danger if I show my face again. Most of all, though, none of them will ever look at me again if they find out about the things I’ve done.

  I pause with my fingers lingering above the ignition. I should stop now and go back inside. It’s not right to uproot them now. It’s been five years since I left home and two since I was “killed in action.” They’ve had a chance to mourn, a chance to get over it and move on without me. It wouldn’t be fair to them if I suddenly showed up again. And what would I say to them?

  Sorry. I wasn’t really dead. I’ve been hiding out in Middle of Nowhere, Iowa in an old lady’s guest house. Pass the mashed potatoes, please.

  But Dani is in danger.

  Mercer will come back for her and when he does, he’ll put her through unbelievable torment just to get to me. I can’t ignore that in favor of living my lie a little bit longer.

  I lick my lips and relish in the rush of memory tingling my senses. She tasted so sweet and warm back then, like freshly baked apples. A forbidden fruit I had no business plucking but I couldn’t help myself.

  The girl down the hall.

  Chapter 4

  Dani

  Then

  If I’ve learned anything over the last year, it’s how unpredictable life can be. The people drifting in and out of our lives are often not actually drifting at all. They return again and again until, all of a sudden, they’re having overnight sleepovers with your dad.

  I suppose it’s not that big of a deal. I never expected my father to stay single forever and I like Cora a lot. She’s fun to talk to and has always gone out of her way to make me feel welcome whenever I stop by Dad’s busy office. I honestly haven’t seen him this happy since… well, ever.

  So, why do I feel a sad lurch in the pit of my stomach every time I think about them together?

  Come on, Dani. You know exactly why.

  I peek around my locker door at the manic teenage hustle between classes. They all rush by in a blur while I focus my tunnel vision at the boy standing by his own locker down the hall.

  Fox Fitzpatrick had no trouble fitting in at Belle Academy. Not that I was the least bit surprised. He’s hot and good at sports, which is really all you need to make an impression around here. We’ve barely spoken since last year’s Christmas party, though I suppose I have myself to blame a bit for that. I certainly didn’t feel like making friends after that interaction but if I’m going to be making awkward small talk with his mother at 7 AM, then we might as well clear the air.

  I tuck my Biology book into the crook of my elbow and close my locker. As I merge into the hallway traffic of navy-blue jackets and plaid skirts, I spot Fox down the hall again. He’s smiling, but not at me. He’s smiling at the other girl leaning against the locker next to his, Trudy Michaels.

  My stride instantly slows, but the flow of the hall keeps pushing me forward.

  Just say hi.

  I approach slowly and my heart skips as Trudy waves goodbye and takes off. Perfect timing.

  I stop behind Fox and clear my throat. “Hi, Fox,” I say.

  He peeks over his shoulder, drawn by the sound of his name, but his expression dips when he realizes it’s just me.

  I flash a smile as I dig my nail into the spine of my textbook. “Hey,” I say.

  “Dani,” he says with a half-nod. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. I just…” I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear. “I talked to your mom this morning.”

  “Yeah, that makes one of us,” he mutters, his focus now back on his locker.

  I chuckle. “Been seeing her around my house a lot lately…” I pause for a reaction, but he just shuffles through some folders instead. “So, I guess they’re—”

  He turns quickly. “We’re not gonna be besties just because your father is fucking my mother,
okay?”

  I ease a step back. “I only thought…”

  “Well, think somewhere else.”

  Fox slams his locker closed. I flinch as he walks off and leaves me in the middle of the hall. Others stop and stare with curiosity at his sudden outburst while my stomach twists into even tighter knots.

  I guess I can forget about ever being friends with Fox Fitzpatrick.

  Chapter 5

  Fox

  Now

  “Hell-o! Who is this and how did you get this number?”

  I press the receiver closer to my ear as the dull, rumbling LAX crowd passes by the payphones. The woman in the booth next to mine makes eye contact with me before glancing down my black suit with a seductive smile. I turn my back to her and grip my bag a little tighter.

  “Boxcar, it’s me,” I say.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Me.”

  He pauses, going silent enough for me to hear the quick inhale of his breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know anybody named Me and even if I did, that’d be impossible.”

  “Boxcar…” I glance around for prying ears.

  “No, I want to hear you say it.” He chuckles darkly. “I want you to tell me that I died. How else could I be talking to a dead man right now?”

  “You’re not dead and neither am I.”

  “Obviously.” I hear the clacking of a keyboard beneath his voice. “I don’t suppose you’re about to bless me with an explanation?”

  “Not just yet,” I say. “I need your help first.”

  “Did you try turning it off and back on again?”

  I smile. Same old Boxcar. “It’s a little more technical than that.” A man walks a little too close and I close my mouth. A nervous habit, but not unnecessary. “Are you in LA?” I ask once he’s moved on.

  “No. I’m a bit farther east these days.”

  “How far?”

  “Boston.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s more than a bit.”