I work with the Sea Conservancy, now. I work in their lab, analyzing sediment and estuary samples and I do my part to make the oceans a cleaner place.
It's a pay cut, but it's rewarding. And there's a good health plan, too.
Drax doesn't bother me anymore. I figure he probably heard I left the FBI in tears and got the message.
I go to therapy twice a week.
It takes a long time before I'm able to close my eyes and not see blood. It takes even longer before I can sleep without dreaming of Ryker's lips on mine. But eventually, I manage even that.
For six months, I scrape by. I work hard and I put together the shattered pieces of my life.
I even build a bit of a reputation for myself. Nothing major, but my name is put out there in a few scientific journals for my work in conservation.
One time, they even mention me in National Geographic. It's just in a short paragraph, talking about up-and-comers in the California environmentalist scene, but I frame the article and it hangs above my desk at work.
I practically give up. Not just for my health, but for my wallet too. It's hard to justify drinking when you're swimming in debt.
But tonight's different.
After months of penny-pinching and pain, we're celebrating.
There's four of us out tonight: me, Connor, and two of my friends from work, Jeff and Ashley. We're out at a dive bar, The Microphone Lounge, and its karaoke night.
There's a lot to sing for. Connor's just found out he's in complete remission.
We all sing, and we all drink. A lot.
I nail a drunken version of Joan Jett's "I Love Rock and Roll". I belt it out, because I'm feeling like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Another guy comes up after me. He's a heavyset dude in his forties, with a flannel shirt that's halfway unbuttoned to reveal a hairy and sweaty chest. He roars his way through Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me". He's running his hands up his chest and his eyes are shut and he's just nailing the 80's hair-metal dance moves.
And I can't stop smiling.
Sugar man finishes his song and everyone is on their feet. I even whistle at him, and so do about five other women in this packed bar.
Then, cutting through the din of the bar, I hear the first chords to a song I haven't heard in months.
There's no one in front of the microphone and the karaoke DJ is calling out for the Mr. Smith that requested 'Feeling Good' to get their drunk ass up to the stage.
Just like that, I go from happy and loose to totally on edge.
I'm scanning the crowd like a hawk.
"What is it, Jess?" Connor asks.
Jeff reaches over and takes my hand.
He and I are kind of an item. If a few dates makes you an item. It's nothing serious. He's a good guy, and he knows that I'm dealing with some serious shit and he respects my space. Things are casual, and it'll be a while before I'd even consider him my boyfriend.
"Jessica? Are you ok?" he says.
I feel the blood draining from my face. I feel my heart surging into my throat. But I don't answer them, even though I hear both of them repeating their questions again with more urgency.
I'm looking through the bar, ignoring everything because I'm hunting for that man with the smokey voice, the man who turned my life upside down.
I need to know if it's him.
The spot in front of the microphone stays empty, the song ends, and the DJ moves on to the next request. Two young and very drunk ladies come up to start in on "Don't Stop Believin".
"I need some air," I mutter and my seat nearly falls over because I get up so fast.
"Jessica? Are you alright?" Jeff asks again.
"Just leave me alone, ok?"
That sounds harsher than it needs to be, but right now, Jeff's irritating me. I have one thing on my mind: Ryker Blackwood.
I push my way through the crowd and step out into the cold Bay Area night.
Behind me, I hear the cheering and the laughing as half the crowd sings along to Journey. I'm cursing myself for getting so upset, and that some small part of me wanted to see his face in the crowd.
Ryker Blackwood is gone for good. It's better that way. Things are looking up here. I have a new life, with friends, with healthy family, with a job that makes a difference.
So why am I crying? Why do I want to see the man who's very presence in my life put that all at risk?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
RYKER
I've been keeping tabs on Jessica for weeks now.
I thought I left her behind, I thought I'd started a new life, but all of a sudden her name is popping up all over in magazines and my heart reminds me that she never really left.
I still think about her; I still remember the way she smells; I still remember the way she tastes; I still remember her goofy grin as she pulled that cucumber-gun on me and shot her way into my heart.
I've kept my distance. Because I care. Because I know she needs her space.
I know I've hurt her.
Then, I find there's a big wave surfing competition, just twenty minutes south of San Francisco at Mavericks Beach, and it's the perfect pretext to come visit her.
So I watch the waves. I didn't surf — despite six months of practice in the Keys, I'm going to need months more before I can handle that kind of surf.
Then, I come here.
I follow her.
And I have everything set up tonight to step back into her life and let her know just how much she means to me.
Because I'm tired of depriving myself of a woman that I know means so much to me. A woman that's changed my life.
Then, I see her at that table. I see that she's moved on. I see how happy she is.
For the first time in my life, I hesitate. I can't pull the trigger on my song. I can't step back into her life.
And so, here I am in the parking lot, pacing and feeling like a fool. I know I should leave, but I can't pull the trigger on that, either.
Then, she comes out. And she starts sobbing. And it just does something to me. It hits me deeper than any bullet and I'm coming out of the shadows and standing there in the light of the street lamp.
"You," she says. Her voice is like an accusation. "What are you doing here?"
There's so much pain in her voice, like she's watching her world fall to pieces around her again, and I realize in that moment how fragile she is.
I know I should keep my distance, I know she's hurt, but I just can't stay away. My arms are around her before I know it.
My shirt is wet with her tears.
"Why are you here, Ryker?" she asks again.
I pull a deep breath. I've rehearsed what I want to say so many times, but, now that I'm around her, I don't remember a single goddamn word.
"I couldn't stay away, Jessica. I tried, but I had to see you."
She looks up at me, and says, "but what about your new life? And what about my new life? I have something here, Ryker. I'm building something. Why did you come back?"
I breathe and my body shakes with holding back the pain I feel inside. The way she looks at me, desperate, hoping, yet angry and so hurt, it shatters me.
"Why?" She repeats.
And I open myself up.
"Because every day I think about you. Because every night I dream about you. Because my life feels half-empty without you in it. Because I love you."
I've spent the better part of a decade being a professional killer, cold and distant, putting any emotions into the background while I plot twelve steps ahead of my targets. And even retired, I'm probably the coldest and most-calculated surfer in Key Largo.
But there's something about this woman that just fucking jolts my heart back to life.
"Jessica, my life is going to be one bleak, sunshine-filled hell if I don't have you in it."
"Sounds about right for Florida," she mumbles.
I laugh.
It feels so fucking good to laugh.
"True,"
I reply. "Honestly, Jessica, I want you in my life. I need you."
She looks up at me with eyes glossy from tears. "What about Drax? He still wants us dead, you know."
I shake my head. "No, he doesn't."
Which isn't entirely the truth. He probably still wants the two of us dead, but, after the two separate hitmen I took out in my first month in Key Largo, Drax and his money became persona non grata in the community of hired killers. I even mailed their trigger fingers back to him, just to make sure he understood the message. Despite his pride, Michael Drax is a smart man, and he knows when to cut his losses.
"How do you know?" she asks.
"I'll give you three guesses," I say.
She shakes her head. "No. You know what, the less we talk about that, the better."
I don't blame her. Dealing with the aftermath was not the funnest point in my life.
"So, what do you do now?" she asks.
"Surf, mostly."
She laughs. It's a bit ragged, probably because she's still on the verge of crying. But it sounds so good to hear.
"You? Surf?" she says, disbelieving.
I nod. "Yeah. I teach SCUBA sometimes to tourists. So?"
"You don't exactly seem like the surfing type."
"I'm really not," I admit. "But I figure, maybe in a few years, I can really fit into the community. It'll take a lot of work, but, if I try real hard, I'll get a really killer tan, I'll stop cutting my hair, and say 'dude' a lot."
She shoves me playfully. "Now you're just being an ass."
I smile. "How would you know? You're not a surfer. You don't know what it's like to hang eleven."
She arches an eyebrow. "Hang eleven? What the hell is that?"
"Taking hanging ten to the next level. Without clothes."
"Are you serious?"
"You're not a real surfer until you've done it. We're a wild group, Jessica. A bunch of rebels."
"What about sunburn? Or jellyfish?"
I shrug. "I live a dangerous life. Those risks come with the territory."
I turn and gesture to my car, the same old Jag from six months ago. For all the other things I gave up from my old life, I couldn't give up that car. Too many good memories. Like Jessica threatening to fill it with vomit in protest of fast food.
"Let's take a ride."
The thrill that runs through me when she opens the door and sits down in the passenger seat next to me, is indescribable. It's the thrill of a new dawn, a new day, a chance for life to turn out as I want it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JESSICA
I get in his car and my heart thrums along with the roar of his engine. My body is vibrating and it's not just the powerful motor that's shaking me, it's every single one of these emotions that surge inside.
We hardly speak the whole ride. As excited as we both are, we're both savoring the moment and trying to sort out the rush of emotions.
At least I am.
He drives us to a park, right off the harbor.
Every bit of the bay is lit up in front of us in a panoramic sight. I can see Yerba Buena Island, Treasure Island, the Bay Bridge, the whole of San Francisco glittering across the water. It's beautiful.
I've seen this view a thousand times and I never get tired of it.
When I first came to Oakland, Connor and I spent a lot of time exploring all the different parks around the Bay Area. Mainly because it's free entertainment and I was more broke than I've ever been in my life. Also because there's something calming about being next to the water and hearing the sound of the ocean. It's constant and comforting at a time when everything in my life seemed to be spiraling out of control.
Ryker exits his car and I follow him. We make our way to a bench right by the water. He's staring out at the waves and I can't stop staring at him. Part of me still doesn't believe he's real.
I never thought I'd see him again. The man came into my life like a tornado and left just as much confusion and destruction. And yet, I want more.
"I was really messed up after you left," I say.
I turn back to watch the water, though I can still see him out of the corner of my eye and he's doing the same thing: staring straight ahead.
He doesn't answer.
"I tried you at your cell. It was disconnected. Do you know how alone I felt?"
I see his jaw clench. And my own body tightens up. Talking to him, sorting out my emotions, I feel every dark thought and doubt from those first days after he left start to come to the surface.
"I was so messed up and I had no one to talk to. I couldn't tell anyone a single damn thing about us. I had to pretend like you didn't exist, like what we went through never happened, and it just ripped me to pieces. I had to quit my job, I had to move, I had to start over because every part in of my life in L.A. was broken, and it was all because of you."
I'm angry. And I have every right to be. Even though I love this man, how can he show up out of the blue and just expect everything to be OK?
"I'm sorry, Jessica," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish it could have happened any other way, but I didn't have a choice."
I laugh because I hurt so much.
"You had no choice? You kill a man in my home, you kidnap me, you make me compromise everything I believe in, and you say that you're the one that had no choice? I was completely helpless, Ryker. I was alone. You had all the fucking power in the world. You chose to abandon me."
"I chose to protect you," he says. His voice is heated, intense, and his eyes blaze as he speaks.
I'm boiling inside. What I went through for the past six months does not feel anything like being protected. I was abandoned, left alone, and decimated.
"Don't lie to me, Ryker. Not after all this. You went off to your new life and you couldn't even answer the damn phone when I tried to reach you. I was so scared, Ryker. I was so messed up."
"I'm not lying, Jessica. I would never lie to you."
I glare at him. "Then tell me the truth."
"Do you think it was an accident that there was a fire at Drax's home the very same night he tried to kill you? I went to his home, I put a bullet in his shoulder, I set that fire and I shot my way to his vault so I could made sure that drive was somewhere the feds would find it. I knew the flash drive would get to you — I wanted you to have an out. And I wanted every bit of Michael Drax's attention on me."
I sigh. "I erased the drive."
He turns and looks at me, surprised. "You what?"
"I erased it. I didn't want it leaking out and then him coming after you because he thought you didn't do your job."
He laughs, that same deep laugh that comes from deep inside. "Damn, we are such a mess."
"I'm going to guess Key Largo isn't so peaceful."
Ryker shakes his head. "I killed a few people that first month. Guys Drax sent, of course. But the visits stopped after that. No one wants to take a job that they know will get them killed."
I take a deep breath. The air is salty, cool, and calming.
"Have you seen Kylie?"
He nods, and I see the faint traces of a smile on his face.
"She did another talent show a month ago. It was the first time I've seen her since I left. She is so talented, I can hardly believe it. She's pulling rabbits out of hats, now," He chuckles, then turns to me. "But every day in between, I feel empty. And I know why that is: there's this huge hole inside me that needs you, that needs the happiness you bring into my life."
I'm stare at the water while his words wash over me.
"Ryker, I don't know…"
And I really don't. The truth is, I feel like I'm adrift, being pulled by currents in so many different directions. There's part of me that is giddy and excited and turned on beyond all belief that this man's come back for me. And then, there's the part of me that's building a home here, with my brother and my kinda-sorta-boyfriend Jeff.
Can I really leave that?
My phone buzzes at me. It's insistent an
d jarring and I can't help but look at it, because I realize I've left everyone back at the bar.
It's Connor: Jeff's pissed you left, he went home. You ok?
I'm fine. At the park. I reply. And I give him my location. I don't keep secrets from my brother.
I'm not surprised that my kinda-sorta boyfriend would leave. Jeff is a perfectly nice guy, but nice guys like him tend to get pissy when things don't go exactly their way. I know that he's hoping all the celebrating and drinking tonight would lead to us taking the next step in our relationship.
"Jessica, talk to me."
I turn away from the water and look at him.
"I spent forever trying to get over you, Ryker. It was miserable, and I suffered for months because I was such a wreck and I couldn't tell anyone the real reasons I was so unhappy. Do you know how much it hurt keeping that all inside? But now, things here are finally starting to turn out ok…"
"But are they better? Than before? Than when we were together?" he says.
I shake my head. Of course they're not better.
Jeff and his timid little hugs don't even compare to the way Ryker kisses me, the way I feel like I'm going to be consumed and overwhelmed by the man's sheer force and passion. I've never felt so alive as when I was cuffed to his bed, writhing underneath him in the type of passion I thought only lived in my fantasies.
"You know they're not. But do you know how hard it is to settle down here? To finally convince myself that some day, things would be ok? And now, I'd have to leave Connor, and my job, and my friends, and start all over again," I say.
"You have every right to be upset at how things turned out, but all I'm asking is that you give me a second chance. I want to show you the kind of man I really am
"I love you, Jessica. Like I've never loved anyone," he says.
He slips his hand under my chin and now I'm looking in his eyes. "I've spent my whole life keeping my feelings locked away, just to survive the things I had to do. But I can't fight how I feel for you."
I kiss him. I claps my hands behind his head and I kiss him like I've done a million times in my dreams since that weekend six months ago, when my heart and I were his hostage.
We separate, both breathing heavy.
Viper: A Hitman Romance Page 13