The Pursuit of Passion (Taylor & Adam)

by Liv Bennett

  She’s right. It was a master plan, and I was too stupid to see through it. I didn’t even go after the attack at the garage and quickly accepted to pay the ransom for the blackmailing. I should have hired a detective for the attackers and gone to the police to report it, as Adam suggested. The police might have tracked down Case and saved his life. And Adam wouldn’t be a suspect in murder now.

  She pushes the gun against my face, the cold metal making me shiver like a leaf hanging loosely against the wind. I close my eyes, praying silent prayers for Adam’s freedom and my family’s safety.

  “Okay, I have to get something else out before I pull the trigger. That gun has no fingerprints of Adam on it. I just made it up to make you sign the papers.” She laughs, throwing her head back.

  Snarky bitch!

  The smell of something burning distracts me and just then the fire alarm goes off. I remember Adam cooking breakfast. He must have forgotten the food on the flame. Valerie drops the hand that’s holding the gun and looks around the living room. For once, she appears as shocked and confused as I feel. Taking advantage of her agitation, I spring to my feet and launch myself at her, throwing her to the floor on her back. Before I can hit her again she points the gun back at me. I stumble but manage to jump a few steps back to put enough space between us to ensure her murdering me will be impossible to be considered as a suicide. As if reading my mind, she stands up, holding the gun to my torso, and starts walking toward me with slow and steady steps until she corners me at the wall.

  I cough hard at the taste of cold metal when she pushes the gun into my mouth, down to my throat. The fire alarm is piercing my ears, the smell of burning assaulting my nose. Now there’s no way left for me to escape death. I close my eyes, hoping at least it’ll be quick.

  “Die, bitch,” I hear Valerie saying.

  Not exactly the words I thought I’d hear before giving my last breath.

  CHAPTER 19 - ADAM

  Despite their initial accusations and lack of friendliness, Detective Perez and Detective Costa thank me for my cooperation as I open the door of the passenger seat at the back of the cruiser. Glancing at the green sedan parked three cars behind, I can’t help but calculate the odds of this sedan being the one that I nearly crashed into when I was leaving the parking lot after Taylor and I had had sex in the movie theater. I wish I’d recorded its plate number or at least the first numbers just so I could verify and end my suspicion now.

  “Why was Ms. Doheny hospitalized?” Detective Costa asks, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I climb in and settle at the back of the cruiser.

  I shouldn’t be talking without my lawyer but they can easily access this information from the hospital records and I’m sure they’ll do so. I reply, “She tried to commit suicide.”

  Both Detective Perez and Costa turn to face me once they’re seated inside the car. Detective Perez eyes me suspiciously while Costa widens her eyes and examines my face. “The sex video?” Detective Costa asks.

  “A part of it, I guess. You’re gonna have to ask her because I don’t know what really triggered it.” And I’m too ashamed to talk about my sexual dominance over her.

  Detective Perez turns back to the steering wheel and starts the engine while Detective Costa keeps on staring at me. “Has your bullet scar recovered well?”

  “Yeah, it’s much better now. Thanks for asking.”

  Under the curious looks of Detective Perez, Detective Costa flashes me a knowing smile. “Those nasty things. I’ve got two bullet scars of my own, but not close to any vital organ like yours,” Detective Costa says, making me wonder why she’s suddenly all flattering.

  “You, folks, have all my respect. It takes guts to become a police officer. I wouldn’t be able to do that.” I shift in my seat, uncomfortable since I’m at a loss as to whether she’s flirting with me or it’s just my overly-active imagination. I normally notice when women have an interest in me by the blatant way they check me out, or their inviting smiles, none of which Detective Costa is sporting right now. Either being in a male-dominated job took away her flirting skills or she’s just playing the good cop.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, either. You risked your own life to save someone else’s. That’s exactly the same thing that we do.” She finally turns to the front, releasing me from her stare.

  “The difference is you folks do it on a daily basis.” I glance at Detective Perez, who’s now watching me intently through the rearview mirror although we’re out in the traffic.

  I wonder how long the interrogation will take and what Taylor is doing right now. Bree hasn’t replied my text but she’s very reliable when it comes to helping out Taylor or me. So, most likely she’s behind the wheel, driving to my apartment, and that’s why she can’t respond to my text.

  My mind keeps wandering back to Taylor’s accusations, but no, I refuse to go there. She’s fragile both physically and mentally and will soon realize I would rather kill myself than kill Jack. She has to: otherwise, I don’t know how she and I can continue being together.

  I shouldn’t think about this; I should focus on the task at hand. That is, defending myself properly and proving my innocence. It’s still hard to conceive how the murders of the three guys, all attached to Taylor in one way or another, ended up being murdered by the same person.

  I must be the luckiest crime suspect in a thousand miles radius to have an alibi for the two nights that the crime took place, the night of the last crime being more vital, or my chances to prove my innocence would be in the unfriendly zone close to zero. The only person with ties to the three murders, besides Taylor, is me.

  So, if it’s not me or Taylor, then who? And why? It’s like there’s someone out there as protective of Taylor as I am, getting revenge on the guys who tried to hurt her. But, who sent out those killers to Taylor in the first place? How about the blackmailer? How could he even figure out it was Taylor in the storage room with me merely hours after recording the video? It’s not like she’s a celebrity, or someone everyone will recognize instantly. Worse yet, how did he find her cell phone number? And let’s not forget the wig she was wearing that night.

  I freeze with the fear that my alibis won’t be as bullet-proof a jacket for me as I was imagining, because all three murders took place in the wee hours when both of my alibis were sleeping. The police won’t have any hesitation using this against me, claiming that I might have left the house for a couple of hours without Adriana or Lynn noticing it, since they were deep in sleep.

  Sweat breaks out on my forehead and around my neck at the feel of being cornered. Someone planned this out diligently to show me as the murderer. Someone who has been following all my steps.

  Someone who has been following both my and Taylor’s steps.

  Suddenly, all I can think of is the green sedan. It was there right after my date with Taylor at the movie theater, nearly causing me to crash into it, and before that, in front of Taylor’s apartment building, when I’d picked her up for our date at the Japanese restaurant.

  My breath catches in my throat when I remember the very first time I saw the green sedan. It was the night of the company’s anniversary celebration. When Taylor ran away from me after we’d danced, I followed her to her apartment. And the green sedan was parked again in front of her apartment building.

  Can this be a coincidence?

  And now it’s parked in front of my apartment building, where Taylor is alone and weak.

  If this is a mere coincidence or my wild imagination, neither I nor the officers will lose anything by checking out how Taylor’s doing. But if there’s really something to my suspicions… I don’t even want to think about what can happen to Taylor.

  “We need to go back to my apartment,” I shout and both officers turn to me. “Someone is after Taylor and I think he’s planning an attack on her right now.” Without giving them a chance to object, I explain to them my strange encounters with the green sedan at the most inappropriate times.

&nb
sp; Detective Perez doesn’t lose a second placing the sirens on the top of the cruiser and turning around. I literally counted the milliseconds of the ten minute drive back and jump out of the car as soon as Detective Perez floors the brakes when we arrive. All three of us storm inside the building toward the elevators. I barely notice the guns in their hands as I press the bottom to call the elevator cab.

  My heart stops beating at the faint, fire-alarm beeps coming from somewhere upstairs, and my mind raced with the disturbing thoughts of Taylor being helpless and at the mercy of a murderer in the middle of a fire.

  “Stairs,” Perez orders and stalks through the door toward the stairs together with Costa. I run behind them, taking three steps at a time, with the only thought in my mind; shedding, with my bare hands, the blood of whoever is after Taylor. The beeps turn deafening as we near the front door of my apartment. I fumble with the keys and when I finally open the door, the two detectives jump inside, with the guns held up in their hands, and roam through the smoke-filled hallway toward the living room.

  Beneath the loud beeps, I hear a familiar female voice saying “Die, bitch,” before a gunshot rings out. I nearly drop down to my knees and struggle to force my legs to continue walking.

  Where did I put my gun? If Taylor is the one who is shot I’ll have to find it and load it into my skull because I can’t live without her. I’d rather have her suspecting me of Jack’s death for the rest of my life a hundred times over losing her to a bloody murderer.

  The smoke clouding my sight, I step toward the bedroom and barely make out two women lying on top of each other.

  “Help, help me.” Taylor’s voice comes out faintly but giving hope to my shattered heart and I move front to do exactly what she’s calling for. The detectives pull the woman off of Taylor. My mouth jerks open when I see it’s none other than Valerie. What’s going on?

  I lift Taylor and she wraps her arms around my neck, mumbling words that I don’t understand into my ear. Then all of a sudden, her arms go loose, her body weight tripling in my arms, and her head falls back.

  “Taylor,” I shout when I notice her irises lost at the back of their sockets. “Call the ambulance.”

  ***

  At the hospital, Bree and I listen to Taylor with both our jaws dropped open, while Detective Costa takes her statement. That Valerie was capable of killing an entire family and pulling all those tricks on Taylor, just to get her hands on her inheritance, is beyond anything I can even comprehend. And knowing that if Valerie had gone to Jack and asked for help, Jack would have given her everything without hesitating makes me want to pace to the intensive care unit and disconnect the machines that give life to Valerie at this very moment. She must have a severe mental disorder to be able to live a secret life for so many years and heartlessly kill her own flesh and blood.

  Taylor is discharged from the hospital the same day, and I take her back to my apartment. She sleeps the entire ride and doesn’t wake up as the car stops. So, I carry her up to my apartment and lay her on my bed.

  She sleeps until noon the next day. After a shower and a silent breakfast, she sits on the bed without saying a word. Three days pass with her not opening her mouth to speak, except for thank-you after meals. That’s if she eats at all. She doesn’t leave the bedroom, not even for a shower, and lies on the bed without moving as if she’s bedridden. It’s the months after Jack’s funeral all over again. She was the same ghost she used to be on those early days after Jack’s death.

  I don’t know what to do. So I let her be, secretly wishing Valerie won’t make it out of the hospital alive for causing Taylor heartbreak twice. Only a monster can inflict so much pain.

  On the afternoon of the third day, I finally reach my limit of watching her fade away, and knock on the bedroom door. She doesn’t call me in, so I enter anyway and sit at the edge of the bed. It’s dark inside; she doesn’t even open the curtains. Only a thin ray of light illuminates the dim room.

  “Taylor.” I gently place my hand on her shoulder. She opens her eyes and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. Has she been crying? “You gotta eat your lunch. It’s three in the afternoon now. You haven’t eaten anything today.”

  She puts both of her hands between her cheek and the pillow, letting out a long breath of exhaustion. “He could have been alive.”

  Will she ever come to terms with Jack’s death? My hand on her shoulder slips down involuntarily but I remain silent.

  “If Valerie had given him a chance to get to know her, she’d know what a great person he was and she’d have let him live.” A sob follows her words.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” I say, rather loudly. “She’s sick in her brain and all she wanted was money and revenge. She wouldn’t recognize the good, if it was given to her on a silver tray. She had two long years to get to know you and still wanted to kill you.”

  “That’s because she was in love with you. She thought I started dating you to steal you from her.”

  “That only confirms my observation. She has a distorted perception of what’s going on.”

  A ghostly smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Since when are you a psychologist?”

  “Since you chose to ruin yourself with grief.”

  “I didn’t choose… I can’t help it.” More tears stream down her cheeks, filling me with rage and sadness.

  “Yes, you can. Don’t let Valerie win again. This is what she wants. You owe it to Jack. Please, pull yourself together. I know it won’t be easy but you can make it. I’ll be with you. I’ll always be with you.” I lie down beside her and hold her in my arms, drying the tears of her silent sobs with my hand. After several minutes, she falls asleep and I dare not move, to let her rest for as long as she needs. But, my phone rings, startling her awake.

  Still holding Taylor in my arm, I switch on the light and place the phone against my ear. It’s Detective Costa, calling to let me know that Valerie’s accomplice, the guy in the green sedan, was arrested yesterday while hiding in a motel, and he’s plea-bargaining for five years instead of twelve, in exchange for giving detailed accounts of all of the crimes he and Valerie committed over the years. Apparently, he started working for Valerie two years ago, which means the police have no way to prove she murdered Jack and his parents, besides Taylor’s statement of Valerie’s confessions.

  I press end and recite everything Detective Costa said except for the last part about Jack’s and his parents’ murders. As she listens to me her face gradually lights up. I don’t know, maybe she feared he’d come after her, too, and now that he’s arrested and will spend several years behind bars, she can breathe again.

  “I need to go back to my apartment,” she says. “I can’t keep on occupying your place.”

  “What? No. Stay and never leave.” And I mean it. Now that I have her, I don’t want to let her go ever.

  Her eyebrows arch up; she shifts away, releasing herself from my hold, and sits up on the bed. “Stay and never leave?”

  “Yeah, move in with me.”

  She shakes her head no. “I can’t. So soon?”

  I reach out and hold her hand, fearing she’ll slip away from me if I allow her to put more physical distance between us. “Why not? I want to have you with me every second of the day.”

  “You’ll get tired of having me at work and then at home.”

  Seriously? Is that her reason? “Will you let me have you at work?” I ask, half joking, half serious.

  “I didn’t mean that.” She blushes a deep hue of red, and I instantly picture making her turn even redder, beneath me on the couch of her office.

  “I know what you mean,” I say. “And no, I’ll never get tired of you. That’s one thing I can promise you right now.” And nothing can be truer than that.

  “I have to think about it.”

  “There’s nothing to think about it. You can have my bedroom if you want. I’ll empty it for you and move to the guestroom so you can set your own belongings here. And, I promise I’ll
never disturb you when you’re in this bedroom. Your bedroom. I just want to have you close. I’d rather die than let you go.”

  “No.” She leans in, her hand cupping my chin, her thump brushing my lips. “Don’t ever mention death again.”

  I grab her hand and plant a kiss against her palm. “Then, don’t leave me.”

  “I…”

  “You can rent your condo to some low-income college students for a little rent.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad.” She shrugs a shoulder, biting her lower lip.

  “Please, say yes, please. You’ll make me the happiest man alive if you say yes.” I place her hand over my scar on my chest. Yes, I’ll stop at nothing to have her move in with me and even use my scar to convince her.

  “Will you help me take a shower?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She doesn’t reply and gives me a sweet smile instead. Getting out of the bed, she takes off her shirt and pulls down her sweatpants. I stare at her, gaping more than looking, as she strips down completely naked and extends her hands to me. I jerk out of the bed, grab a pair of bandage covers, and place them over her hands.

  “Before going to the shower, I have to apologize for something.” She looks up at me, her lips trembling, her eyes glittering as if announcing the imminent arrival of tears. “I’m sorry that I blamed you for Jack’s death. I shouldn’t have done that. But, you should know that suspecting your innocence was one of the darkest moments of my life. I didn’t know how I could go on without being able to trust the only man I cared about after Jack.”

  I can’t deny it; her accusations hurt me to the core. Causing pain to Jack would be equivalent to causing pain to my mother, and I’d never intentionally do such a thing. “I couldn’t believe you could think I’d be capable of doing such a horrible act to my best friend.”

  Her head drops to her chest, and I hear another sob. Shit, if swallowing my pride and accepting her apology is the only way to stop her crying, so be it. I don’t want another drop of a tear coming out of her eyes.