Touching Eternity (Touch Series 1.5)

by Airicka Phoenix

  Edward chuckled. “That’s my thoughts. I wonder what truths he’s referring to if that were the case. He’s clearly not all well in the head.”

  Clearly. But Garrison said, “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Poor guy has probably driven himself into the ground with exhaustion. I know my students consider me a slave driver, but I had no idea.”

  “Exactly,” Edward said. “I thought the whole thing was pure idiocy.”

  Garrison laughed although nothing about the situation was remotely hilarious. “So does this mean we can progress with the seminar Thursday?”

  All amusement died in Edward’s voice. “I’m sorry, Terrell. Not Thursday. Perhaps once this is all cleared up, we can set a new date and time. But I really must go now. I’ve got a million things I need to finish. I’ll call you if I hear anything else. You take care of yourself! Talk to you later.”

  The line went dead before Garrison could even catch his breath to speak. The phone struck the wall opposite his desk with a loud clang. It struck the floor in several broken pieces.

  This wasn’t happening! He willed himself to believe as he slumped back in his chair. Fear stole paths throughout his body with icy fingers of dread that made him shudder. The chair beneath him squeaked. How could this be happening? He didn’t understand. Everything had been going so well only a week ago. He’d been making such progress. How could everything crumble so quickly?

  Garrison shot to his feet, sending the chair rolling out and striking the wall behind him with a clutter.

  It wasn’t over! He still had a chance to salvage things. He just needed to keep his head. He needed to fix things, starting with the board. They had to be shown just how crucial this investment is and how it would line their pockets with more money than they ever dreamed. Then, he would visit Mortimer Hobbs, that sniveling good for nothing snake, and teach him a thing or two about loyalty. If it hadn’t been for Garrison, where would he have been? Still cleaning rat guts off laboratory trays, that’s where. Garrison had given him a future, had shown him a life beyond his miserable, pathetic life and this was the thanks he got? That was unacceptable.

  He started reaching for his phone before realizing it would do him no good. Instead, he stalked purposefully to the door and stormed out. All tests would have to wait until another day. His whole world was in jeopardy.

  Chapter 27

  Isaiah

  He couldn’t stop touching her. His fingers traced the lengths of her arms, the ridges of her spine, the contours of her face and still it wasn’t enough. Every part of her was so familiar yet so foreign. She herself was like a magnet, drawing him to her, his eyes, his hands, his lips, it was never enough. The vast hollow in his chest brimmed to the point of bursting and he was staggered by how easily she could take away the pain.

  “I won’t ever leave you again, Ams,” he told her for the thousandth time. “I promise.”

  With her back to his chest, her slim fingers skating up and down the length of the forearm banding her middle, Amalie turned her head and peered up at him. The gray light pooled through the terrace window, spilling over the curves of her cheeks and filling her eyes with a soft glow. The uncertainty and fear had his arms tightening around her.

  “What is it?”

  She turned her face away, letting a thick curtain of hair fall between them. His fingers smoothed back the strands, tucking them behind her ear before taking her chin and forcing her to face him again.

  “What?” he insisted.

  “Even after everything that happened?” Her voice was so small, he almost didn’t hear her.

  “What do you mean?”

  She wrenched her face free of him. He let her, but tightened his grip when she tried to pull out of his embrace.

  “Isaiah…”

  “Tell me,” he urged, pressing his lips to the side of her neck. He didn’t miss the way her entire body seemed to go rigid with a tension that hummed through every one of her bones. “Ams?”

  “How could you not know?” she hissed through her teeth. “How can you stand to touch me?”

  “Hey!” His hand closed around her upper arm when she jerked out of his hold and tried to hurry away. “What are you talking about?”

  She twisted her arm free and glowered at him. “I’m talking about me! I’m not the same Amalie you left a year ago! I’ve done…I’m not…”

  “Hey.” His hands framed her face, drawing her forward until their noses bumped. “Do you honestly believe that would make me love you less? There is nothing in the world that could ever make me see you any differently.”

  “I feel different.”

  He lightly stroked the curve of her cheek with the pad of his thumb, staring intensely into her eyes. “I won’t push you, Amalie. I won’t do anything you’re not ready for. Having you back is so much more than I could have ever asked for a month ago. I will wait for you forever if you’ll have me.”

  Her mouth opened, tears shining in her eyes, when the door behind him flew open with such ferocity, they both jumped.

  Garrison stood shadowing the doorway, his expression blazing with fierce determination. Behind him, Derek stood erect, blank-faced. Isaiah felt rather than saw Amalie stiffen. Her fears struck him with the force of a truck.

  “Sir?” His body automatically shifted until Amalie was blocked from sight.

  “What are you doing in here?” he demanded at once, outrage hard on his face. “You know you are forbidden from being in Amalie’s room unescorted.”

  “We were talking, sir,” he said evenly, keeping everything from his voice but innocence.

  “It is extremely inappropriate! You are not children anymore. I will not have this again, is that understood?”

  Isaiah inclined his head. “Understood, sir.”

  Garrison gave a sharp, satisfied nod. “Come with me.”

  Isaiah didn’t move. “Me, sir?”

  “Yes, you!” Garrison barked, turning on his heels. “Hurry. We have urgent matters that need our attention.”

  Outside the door, just hidden from sight, he spotted Lew and Bruce and he wondered what was so urgent that Garrison needed those knee-breakers. But he figured he was about to find out.

  He turned to Amalie. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Worry shone in her blue eyes, radiating in the anxious grip her teeth had on her bottom lip. “Isaiah, I don’t—”

  He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, checked to make sure the coast was clear before brushing a quick kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back,” he promised quietly.

  She didn’t protest again, but watched him as he hurried after the group. He caught Derek’s gaze in the doorway. They exchanged a silent glance before Isaiah turned right after the trio already disappearing down the corridor.

  They took the limo. Lew and Bruce stuffed themselves on either side of Garrison, leaving Isaiah the entire opposite bench.

  No one spoke as the car rolled out of the driveway, but the hatred in Lew’s face screamed volumes. Isaiah ignored him, focusing instead on the drive. Miles of wilderness melted gradually into towering sheets of glass and steel as they broke into the city. The sight of it clenched around Isaiah’s gut the way it always did when he returned home. He wished he could find something new about it, something that didn’t remind him of the horrors he’d witnessed there. But time seemed to have frozen in that state of tragedy, a sick mockery of everything he wanted to forget.

  “Where are we going, sir?” He ripped his eyes away from the rushing scenery to focus on the man across from him.

  Lew bared his teeth. “That ain’t your business!”

  Garrison lifted a hand, silencing him. “It’s all right, Lew. We’re going to visit some friends of mine. They need some convincing of my vision. Lew and Bruce have other matters to oversee.”

  Lew snickered, cracking his knuckles. “That idiot Hobbs won’t know what hit him!”

  Isaiah stiffened. “Why do you need to see him again?”

  Garrison didn’t seem an
noyed by the question, but Lew looked like the vein throbbing in his temple might explode. Isaiah focused on Garrison.

  “Because the first warning didn’t seem to work on our good friend and he needs another more permanent one.”

  He didn’t know if it was surprise, respect or pity that rose up inside him. The man was either very brave or very stupid. Whichever, Isaiah had a feeling he’d dug his own grave with this one.

  They dropped Lew and Bruce off next to a squat, brick building. The gloomy winter light spilled over a sign, glinting off the gold, block letters that said, Spring Valley Retirement Home. Isaiah frowned as he watched the pair disappear down a concrete path and vanish from sight through a set of glass doors. Something told him they weren’t there to pay a visit to their cookie-baking grandmother.

  Several minutes passed before anyone exited again. Isaiah was shocked to see Bruce trudging towards them once more, pushing an old woman in a wheelchair.

  “Sir…?”

  The door was flung open and the woman was lifted out of her chair and stuffed into the seat next to Garrison. Her chair was folded and stowed away into the trunk. Bruce and Lew slipped into the car, both squishing themselves into the seat beside Isaiah.

  The woman was stooped and so frail in her flower printed dress and knitted sweater as white as the hair curled on top of her head. Her head wobbled a little on her head as she stared unseeingly into the distance with eyes that may have been blue once, but had faded to a soft gray.

  “Let’s go,” Garrison said and Bruce slammed a meaty fist into the roof. The car began to roll away.

  “Sir, who—”

  “This is Margaret Hobbs,” Garrison introduced in a tone most reserved for discussing weather. “Our dear Mortimer’s grandmother and his only living relative. She raised him after his parents died in a car crash when he was four and has been like a mother to him his entire life. He spends every penny to make sure she’s taken care of in that retirement home.”

  “Too bad he didn’t pay for security,” Lew cackled.

  Garrison’s lips curved ever so slightly.

  Isaiah felt physically sick. “Sir, what are you going to do with her?”

  Garrison turned green eyes to him. “Me? Nothing.” But there was a glint behind the ghost of a smile. “Bruce and Lew, on the other hand, are going to take Ms. Hobbs to see her grandson. I’m sure once Mortimer sees just what his actions have caused me to do, he will follow my conditions very closely.”

  “You’re not going to kill her are you?”

  Garrison’s eyes widened. “Oh heavens I hope not, but that all depends on Mortimer. I would much rather dispose of him, truthfully. Unfortunately, I already have too many eyes on me at the moment. Killing him would be unwise. Margaret is our insurance policy. She will help make sure Mortimer understands that there are no limits to the lengths I will go to in order to silence him. If he wants his grandmother well and unharmed, he will cease his troublemaking.”

  The car drew to a stop three blocks from Mortimer’s house. As the pair leapt out and began unloading Ms. Hobbs, Isaiah turned to Garrison.

  “Is this a good idea, sir?” he asked. “What if someone notices she’s gone?”

  Garrison scoffed, flicking a dismissive hand. “No one will even notice she’s gone until suppertime and by then, hopefully Mortimer will have made the right decision and she will be returned, unharmed.”

  “But if it comes back to you—”

  “It won’t,” Garrison said calmly. “Lew and Bruce are very good at what they do.”

  “But, sir—”

  A long, slim hand went up, cutting him off. “This is something you must learn, that not everything in this business is clean. Sometimes, you have to get your hands dirty. Mortimer had his chance. I was very fair.”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  Garrison sighed, folding his hands neatly on his lap as he observed Isaiah from across the short distance. “Isaiah, you must trust that I am doing what’s best! If Mortimer continues, imagine what it could mean for us. My funding will stop and if that happens, I will be unable to help Amalie. My research is so important, now more than ever! I will do whatever it takes to ensure we succeed! I will not let anything get in my way.”

  But it was wrong! He needed to do something. He needed to stop this. But what could he do? He didn’t stand a chance against Lew and Bruce, both armed to the teeth.

  “Taking a life isn’t the answer, sir,” he murmured, feeling useless and exhausted.

  A brow lifted on Garrison’s face. “And what is?”

  Isaiah couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He had no idea.

  Forty minutes later, they were standing in a gold and glass elevator. The nauseating churn in his stomach had nothing to do with the fluid climb, but the anxiety of what was about to come once those doors opened. His anxiety didn’t lessen when Garrison suddenly turned to him, one hand reaching behind him.

  “Before I forget,” he said coolly, bringing his arm around.

  The suddenly too bright lights above them glinted off the polished steel resting almost weightless in Garrison’s hand. The cold gray contrasted horribly against the pallor of the man’s skin. Isaiah was no stranger to weapons, having been trained in most of them, but the meaning behind this made him flinch.

  “Sir?”

  “Take it!” It was thrust towards him, nearly knocking him in the gut.

  He took it, the metal feeling like a chunk of ice in his clammy grip. He nearly dropped it.

  “Careful!” Garrison barked. “The safety isn’t on. Now put it away.”

  If it made him sick before, the very sight of it made him want to throw up now. Where exactly were they going that he would need a gun?

  “Put it away!” Garrison hissed again, nudging him.

  Clumsily, but careful not to blow his backside away, he stuffed the barrel into the waistband of his pants. He dragged the hem of his shirt over it, concealing it from sight just as the lift arrived at their floor and the doors swept open.

  Garrison checked his watch. “Right on time,” he mused, stepping out of the box. “Now I need you to look professional.”

  Isaiah had no idea what that meant. “What?”

  He could have sworn Garrison sighed as he turned to face him. “Isaiah, I need you to pull yourself together right now, do you understand? This is very important and I need you to support me. Can you do that?”

  The weapon pressed into his spine burned through his skin, making him sweat, shift, swallow. “Yes, sir.”

  Garrison slapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Come on. Just look like you mean business.”

  Still, the words flew straight over Isaiah’s head, but he squared his shoulders and this seemed to please Garrison. With another pat, the other man marched on ahead, leaving Isaiah to follow.

  The enormous ivory doors met them the moment they left the elevator. It was the only thing there in the narrow corridor aside from a potted plant next to it. Garrison stopped in front of the doors, glanced at Isaiah over his shoulder.

  “Intimidating,” he hissed.

  Not waiting for a reaction, he knocked, giving Isaiah no time to do anything except quickly straighten out his features to a cool blankness.

  Blinding white light burst through the crack when the door opened. It was so staggering, Isaiah had to squint. The room opened into a wide circle with grand windows all around. Everything gleamed, the white floors, the long, rectangular table, the bald scalps of the men sitting around said table. Isaiah tried not to gawk, but he’d never seen so much shine. It was all so clean, so pristine. He was almost too afraid to step on the floor.

  “Gentlemen!” Garrison stalked into the room and went directly to the empty spot at the end of the table. There was no chair, but he stood looking down the length of the table at the thirteen faces staring back at him. “Thank you for waiting.”

  “Who’s your guest?” a withered, ancient man at the other end inquired, eyeing Isaiah.

 
“This is my son Isaiah.” The pride in his voice had a lump forming in Isaiah’s throat. He suddenly wished he’d had time to dress in something other than day old clothes, rumpled and creased from sleeping in them. He was sure his hair was all over the place too and resisted the urge to run his fingers through it to tame it. The most he could do was raise his chin and stare the man down, daring him to contradict the statement.

  The man didn’t. He made a sound that was half contemplating, half amused, before turning to Garrison once more. “I wasn’t aware you had a son, Garrison.”