by Alison Bliss
Then he kissed me lightly, lingering at my mouth for a moment before deciding against whatever else had passed through his mind. He pulled back and smiled, knowing I had guessed what he was thinking.
“I want to ask you something,” I said.
“No, I’ve never done that before,” he offered, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. “Normally, I’m careful, but it was just the situation, I guess.”
“It’s not about that. I want to talk to you about…well, something else,” I said, hesitating because I wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“Okay, shoot.”
“I wanted to ask you…um…well, I…” Was I brave enough to ask him how he felt about me if there was a chance he didn’t feel the same way? “Where did you get the scar, the one on your leg?”
The flat, faded scar on his thigh was only noticeable from certain angles. Since I was roughly face level with his waist, I noticed. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it before, but maybe he would now. It was a safer bet than asking him if he loved me. I’d have to work up to that one.
He didn’t answer at first, which worried me. But then he sighed and shrugged. “It’s probably about time I told you the truth, anyway.” That worried me more. “My parents’ names were Joseph and Marion Keller.”
Recognition dawned on me, but I blinked with confusion. “That’s strange,” I said, trying to force my brain to recall something out of its grasp. “Their names sound familiar, but I don’t know why.”
“My dad was director of the FBI’s Chicago division until last year. They were murdered,” he said, pausing to let me take in his words. “Every local and national news network plastered their names and photos on their top story list for months. I would’ve found it strange if you hadn’t heard their names.”
The small jolt he gave me helped my memory kick in. “Gunned down in their home, right?” I asked, forgetting I was callously referring to his parents. I should’ve edited myself better.
Jake nodded his answer, as if confirming it verbally hurt too much.
“A home invasion or something?” I asked, still trying to recall the news report I’d seen the year before.
“It was no home invasion,” Jake said, gritting his teeth. “That was a mob hit, disguised as a burglary gone wrong.” He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself down.
“But the news report said—”
“I was there, Emily.” He ran his shaky fingers through his hair, as if startled by his own memories. “They invited me to dinner, and we watched a ball game on TV afterward. Dad and I drank a few too many beers, so Mom made me sleep it off in my old room.
“At four o’clock in the morning, I heard a noise that sounded like something fell on the floor. I wasn’t alarmed enough to grab my gun off the dresser and walked into the hallway unarmed. One of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made. A man stepped out of my parents’ bedroom carrying a silenced handgun. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but later found out it was Curtis Manning.”
At the mention of his name, I recognized it immediately and gasped. I remembered the large man with the cold, deadly eyes. He was one of the men who’d chased me from the lounge that night, wanting to kill me.
Jake acknowledged the horror in my eyes, but continued. “I hadn’t turned on any lights. Manning couldn’t see me standing in the shadows. But I must’ve shifted my weight or something because the wooden floor creaked under my foot. A wild shot hit me in the thigh as he ran out.”
“You were lucky he was caught off guard. He probably would’ve killed you.”
“No doubt in my mind,” Jake agreed. “He didn’t leave me alive out of the kindness of his heart. People who are caught unaware make mistakes. Like me, leaving my gun in the bedroom and walking out unarmed. It was stupid.”
“What happened after Manning left?”
“I crawled back into my bedroom and armed myself, but by the time I got my gun, he was gone. I called the police. The dispatcher wanted me to stay on the line, but I hung up and dragged myself down the hall to my parents’ bedroom. My mother was on the bed and my dad was on the floor, both with kill shots to the head.”
Though I already knew the story didn’t have a happy ending, it still disturbed me to hear his version of it. The look on his face as he told it reminded me of how I felt when I learned of my own parents’ deaths.
I choked up. “I’m sorry. It was hard when I lost my parents, but I wasn’t there when it happened. I can’t imagine how horrible it would’ve been for you to find them like that.” I paused long enough to wipe my eyes, but couldn’t stop sniffling. “Why did he do it? Did Manning kill them because your dad was an FBI director?”
“No. My father had been investigating Frankie Felts for years. Manning’s a flunky, an assassin, if you will. He doesn’t do anything unless Frankie Felts orders it done, which means Felts has as much of my family’s blood on his hands as Manning does.” His eyes glistened with moisture as he added, “As much as I do.”
“Jake, no.” I reached for his hand as my voice cracked. “How could it be your fault? You couldn’t have known—”
“I should’ve known…I’m the reason it happened.”
“Why do you think that?”
A tear escaped and rolled down the side of his nose. Judging by his lack of eye contact, his emotions made him uncomfortable. “Felts found out that someone received inside information from one of his employees. When he figured out who gave it, he pistol-whipped my dad’s name out of him and killed the man. That’s when Felts put out the kill order on my dad.”
“I still don’t see how…”
“The informant would only talk to someone higher up in the agency. The exchange was over the phone. I let the informant believe he was talking to FBI Director Joseph Keller.”
A light bulb flashed on in my brain. I understood Jake’s reasons for thinking it was his fault. Then the light bulb exploded, making my head hurt, since I knew nothing I said would convince him otherwise. But I had to try.
“When I was fourteen, my parents were hit by a drunk driver.”
“I know,” he said. “It was in your case file.”
“I’ve always blamed myself.”
Confusion took over Jake’s face. “Why? How was it your fault?”
“I stayed over at a friend’s house that night, but my friend, Cassie, wanted to go out without her parents knowing. I’d never done anything like that before. Believe it or not, I was a good girl back then.”
“You followed rules?” Jake asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“First night I’d ever disobeyed one. My parents were sticklers for rules and tried to instill them in me constantly. They slathered on sunscreen religiously, adamantly buckled their seatbelts, and—sometime after conceiving me—must’ve started practicing safe sex, since I’m an only child.”
“They would’ve loved me, then,” Jake said with a grin.
“I let Cassie talk me into sneaking out, and we went to the park to meet up with some friends. As soon as her parents found out we were missing, they called the police. A cop car picked us up and held us at the station until our parents could come for us. Cassie left with her dad, but I sat alone in a room for hours. Until an officer came to talk to me.”
“The one you mentioned before?” Jake asked. “The officer who comforted you until they snatched you away?”
I gave a quick nod, trying to keep my composure. “My parents were on their way to get me when the drunk driver swerved into their car and pushed it off a bridge into the Mississippi River. Their injuries weren’t severe, but my mom’s seatbelt wouldn’t release. According to eyewitnesses, my dad refused to get out of the car without her.”
Jake scowled and shook his head. “All because of a damn seatbelt?”
“Y-yes. And me. All because of me,” I said in a broken whisper before regaining control of my voice. He started to gather me in his arms, but I stopped him. “Don’t you see, Jake? It wasn’t your fault. No mo
re than it was mine. Our parents wouldn’t want us sitting here blaming ourselves.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” He paused thoughtfully. “Actually,” he said, smiling at his thoughts, “my mom would grab me up by the ear and my dad would threaten to take me out behind the barn and whoop my ass.”
Jake’s heart carried a load too heavy for any dump truck. He had tossed out some sharp, fragmented bits of regret from his dubious past, but he still couldn’t hide the deep scars that had formed on the inside.
My eyes were no longer wet when the smile slid across my face. “I would’ve liked them,” I told him. “Just like Hank and Floss. You’re lucky to have them. I can see how much they love you.”
“They would do anything for me,” Jake said, nodding in agreement. “And have, in the past. Remember when I told you I’d been in witness protection?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly witness protection. Not officially, anyway. When I was fifteen, my dad tried to prosecute Felts on a murder charge. Dad received death threats and wanted to keep us safe. He made my mom and I assume new identities and go into hiding. We came to live here with Hank and Floss.”
For a moment, I had a touch of déjà vu, remembering when I had to change my identity. “Jake isn’t your real name?”
“Actually it is…Jake Keller. Now, everyone knows me as Ward. Even after I told everyone the truth, they continued to call me by that name. I was used to it, so I kept it.”
“I couldn’t imagine you as Jake Keller. It would be weird, like when you first called me Emily Foster,” I said with a laugh, remembering how I hadn’t answered him much the first day. “Did you like living here?”
“I didn’t want to at first,” Jake said. “But I started hanging out with the boys and dating Bobbie Jo. Soon I didn’t want to leave.” I hadn’t realized I’d made a face until he said, “Hey, don’t look at me like that! You asked. I’m just trying to be honest.”
“You can leave out the parts about her,” I said, my face souring at the thought of Jake dating Bobbie Jo.
“If you gave her half a chance—”
“I don’t want to talk about her,” I said, clenching my teeth. “It’ll only start an argument. Move on.”
Jake sighed heavily with disapproval, but went back to his story. “Mom and I had been here six months when Felts bought off a judge. My dad’s case against him was thrown out of court. When the death threats stopped, Dad thought it was safe for us to return home. Mom went, but I stayed to finish high school with the boys.”
And to be with Bobbie Jugs, I imagined. “When did you end up moving back to Chicago?” I asked, hoping to hear about their breakup and a confession that her tits were fake.
“By the time I became a full-fledged agent, my dad had already taken over as director in Chicago. I transferred there and joined his mission in bringing Felts down. No one knew I was his son. Dad and I kept the information under our hats. I always took more after my mom, anyway, with her dark hair and gray eyes, so I kept Ward as my last name. We didn’t want anyone to holler nepotism when he appointed me as the senior investigator on Felts’s case file.”
“I remember you said it was your case.”
“It was. For nearly three years, but I didn’t go undercover in Felts’s organization until about six months ago. I spent years playing by the rules, but never could get Felts on anything solid. Manning had an airtight alibi for the night my parents were killed. Although he’d been there, I couldn’t prove it. They killed my parents in cold blood and got away with it for a year. I couldn’t take it anymore. The night he killed Sergio, I wanted to take Frankie Felts down one way or another. Since I hadn’t been able to do it legally, I…well, let’s say I was willing to try another method.”
My heart thumped an extra beat at the hidden meaning. I had to ask, but wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “What were you planning to do?” I swallowed hard, bracing for whatever he would tell me.
“You have to understand I’d been having a hard time dealing with my parents’ deaths. If the FBI found out I was the director’s son, they would’ve pulled me off the case immediately. No one could know. So I headed a memorial service for them in Chicago as Director Keller’s coworker, but I buried Mom and Dad here in Texas as their son. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be on the investigation, and I know I should’ve—”
“Jake! What were you going to do?”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw twitched. “Nothing Felts wouldn’t have deserved,” he said coldly. “That night in the club, I watched Felts, waiting for a chance to face off with him. I wanted to see the look in his eyes when I told him I was Joseph Keller’s son. He would’ve known why I was there and would’ve been forced to draw his weapon.”
“Are you suicidal? My God, why would you want him to do that?”
He stared off into space for a moment. “So I had a reason to kill him. A legal one, at least.”
“But he wasn’t alone. You could’ve got yourself killed.”
“Curtis Manning wouldn’t have lived long. He would’ve been the second one to hit the floor. Two kill shots, one to each of their heads.”
His callousness shocked me. “You’re not a killer!”
“You don’t know what I am,” he said, his tone darkened by his hatred. “I could’ve killed him. I would’ve killed him…if only…”
“Something kept you from doing it,” I guessed. “What stopped you?”
“You did.” His eyes softened as he glanced over at me. “You stopped me.”
“What? How?”
“You were in the hallway and looked upset. The few minutes I talked to you gave me some perspective. I went to the bathroom to pull myself together. By the time I came out, the only thing I could think of was how you—how anyone—might look at me if you had known what I planned to do.”
“But you followed them. I saw you go in the back room.”
“I wasn’t looking for Felts. Sergio went through there. I followed him to tell him to leave you alone, that you were with me. I wasn’t sure which way he had gone. When I couldn’t find him, I came out and searched for you. But you were gone. Then you flew out those doors a minute later. It was obvious you’d seen something. And, judging by how scared you were, I figured it had to be bad.”
My body shuddered at the memory of Sergio’s blank stare. “I thought you knew…that you worked for…”
“The only thing I knew was that they were searching for you. You were ducking through the crowd, trying to make your way to your friends. I had to get to you before you made it to them, or they would’ve been in danger as well.”
“You should’ve told me…”
“Told you what? That you were the lucky break I’d been hoping for?”
“Lucky? You think it was luck I witnessed a murder?”
“Emily, you saw Felts commit a crime, and I hadn’t been able to pin anything else on him. I hated that you had to see that, but truthfully, it was bittersweet.”
The comment alone polluted and distorted my view of Jake. I had to bite back the words I actually wanted to say. “You should’ve at least told me about your parents and how involved with the case you were.”
“I couldn’t tell you how my parents died. Not in the beginning. I saw the reaction you had when I told you about the other three witnesses. It wasn’t good.” Jake shook his head insistently. “No, I couldn’t take a chance you’d run. I needed your help to bring the murdering bastard to justice. It was my only alternative to killing him.”
My heart felt like he’d taken a shotgun to it and had blown it to smithereens. “So this was a personal crusade?”
“Of course it was,” Jake admitted, guilt-free.
Disbelief clouded my eyes and sent my stomach into a downward spiral. “It…it didn’t have anything to do with protecting me. You weren’t keeping me safe, Jake. You were keeping your precious fucking court date.”
“I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t have
ulterior motives, Emily. But it had nothing to do with you or this thing between us.”
This thing between us? What the hell was that supposed to mean? That it was just sex? He said he didn’t do meaningless sex. Then again, it isn’t like he said he loved me, either.
I became more enraged. “It has everything to do with me! I thought you weren’t telling me about your parents because you didn’t want to hurt me knowing I’d lost mine. It’s why I didn’t push. But that wasn’t it at all, was it, Jake? You kept it from me because you didn’t want to lose your star witness. That’s all you give a damn about.”
“Emily, you’re wrong. This thing. Us. It’s—”
“It’s what?” I asked, needing affirmation that he felt the same way about me.
“I don’t know,” he said in frustration. Jake moved away, infuriating me more.
I was livid he couldn’t elaborate, couldn’t verbalize it. I felt alienated and more alone than I’d ever felt since my parents died. After all, the man I’d fallen in love with wasn’t in love with me. He might have pulled me closer physically, but emotionally he pushed me away.
I couldn’t understand why, after what we had shared. Something was between us, but now, I was no longer sure what. It was like our relationship resembled the cell service out there. A connection was there, but kept getting lost in the trees.
“You fucking coward! That’s fine, then. Chalk it up to one more notch on your belt for all I care. I should give you a standing ovation for the stunning performance you put on yesterday.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He swallowed hard, trying to keep his temper from flaring further. “You know it wasn’t an act,” he said more calmly.
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t. Not after he admitted to having ulterior motives and not knowing what to call this thing between us. Dull pain in my fragile heart pulled at me, making me want to spew moisture from my eyes by the bucketful. But I couldn’t let my guard down with him anymore.
Once I was alone, I’d worry about piecing the broken shards back together. For now, I was angry. Mad at him for making me admit I loved him while weakened by the throws of passion. Disgusted with myself for falling in love with him. In fact, I would’ve been happy to stuff all of my unwanted feelings into a trash bag, throw it into the burn pit, and light it with the raging flames blazing inside me.