Beyond the Fire

by Cheryl Pierson

  Inexplicable anger rose up inside Jack. And that damn helplessness, too.

  As if Thompson read his mind, he went on. “Doesn’t make the boy any less important, Jackson. Or the murders any less tragic. Anything you can tell me would help.”

  “They hit me as soon as I walked in.”

  “But the lights were on, and you weren’t blindfolded. You must have come around during the time they were there. It had to be two—three hours.”

  Was that all? “Who called you?”

  “Well, that’s another odd thing. It was an anonymous tip. We haven’t been able to track it.” Thompson rose from the chair, stretching his arms and back, looking out the window. He turned back to Jack once more. “Did this have anything to do with your drug sales?”

  Jack looked away first. Denial hovered on his busted lips, but he knew from the way Thompson watched him, this wasn’t conjecture. They had something concrete on him.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Vigilante?” Thompson raised a brow again, shaking his head. “Why don’t you and I work together, Jackson? Do it the right way.”

  “I don’t think your way is the ‘right way’, Officer.” Jack’s voice shook, and he tried to steady it. He was in danger of coming apart in a million pieces. “I wasn’t even able to go to the funeral for Amy and Mikey.” His whole world had been snatched way, leaving pain, aching emptiness...and unimaginable rage.

  Thompson rubbed the back of his neck, giving a grim smile. “No, I’ll admit there are times when it doesn’t seem like enough. Justice seems to take a holiday and the criminals don’t always get what we think they deserve. But, son, it’s not worth your life.”

  Jack was touched by the man’s reasoning. He tamped it down. Weakness—however small—could destroy him and what he intended. He would see this through for Amy and Mikey—so they’d know he had done everything he could; that he hadn’t failed them in the end.

  “Not worth my life?” Jack closed his eyes. “I’m paid up, Officer. I’m already dead.”

  But now as Jack felt Kendi’s hand move against his skin, he knew that wasn’t true. Lying here with Kendi in his arms, her breathing warm against his skin, her fingers softly tracing lazy circles at his side, he was glad he’d been wrong. Somehow, everything had changed again. The mission he’d been so determined to see through to the very end, with no thought for himself, suddenly seemed unimportant. He’d been given his own personal angel, another chance for happiness. This time, the temptation was too great to ignore. He was going to hold on.

  Chapter Nine

  Kendi looked up at him in the fire-lit gray afternoon light, then propped herself on her elbow.

  “Do you want to hear the rest?” Jack’s eyes were tired, but the bleakness had lifted from his soul. Telling it had been hard, but he felt better already. So far, she hadn’t run screaming from the house as he’d predicted.

  “Do you want to tell it?”

  He smiled, touching a strand of her auburn hair. “It’s getting easier.”

  “I’m assuming you killed them—Mason, Harrison, and the other two.” There was no censure in her face, no horror—only acceptance.

  “It took me a little over four months. I had to heal first, get back in shape. Then, I went after them. By the time I got started, Jimmy Barnes, Deke’s friend, had killed himself accidentally. Laid his Harley down on I-40 and scattered little pieces of himself for a mile. Deke Ames went missing a month after...after I got out of the hospital. They pulled his car out of Lake Tenkiller the next week with him in it.”

  “An accident?” Kendi asked.

  “Hardly. His hands were duct taped to the steering wheel.”

  Kendi worried her lower lip between her teeth. “So Mason got anxious and decided to do away with witnesses. It must have been eating him up. How did he arrange the motorcycle accident?”

  “They said Barnes blew a tire out. It would’ve been easy enough to put a small hole somewhere in it, just let nature and stupidity take their course.”

  “And Harrison?”

  Jack hesitated a moment. “Well, he and Mason both got their lifetime supply of drugs. It was a lot easier than I thought, and their lifetimes were much shorter than they expected. I carried a couple of vials of cyanide pills with me from the day I got out of the hospital. I made myself a target, once I knew I could handle them after my physical therapy. I sat out by the apartment swimming pool one afternoon, late, when I knew they’d be getting home from work.”

  Kendi shuddered.

  “Okay, no more.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of them, sweetheart.” She lay down, nestling close to him. “I was thinking how ballsy that was of you—to leave yourself open to them—after what they’d done.”

  Jack’s heart clenched. No one had ever worried for him like this.

  “They braced you?” Kendi prompted.

  “Yeah. And I gave them each a vial of the pills. Mason walked away laughing. Yelled back, ‘Whadda I owe ya? Oh, yeah—nothin’.’”

  “Bastard.”

  He smiled. “I saw each of them pop one just before they went their separate ways. They both died right there in the parking lot. Then, I went home and ate dinner. Slept better than I had in the past four months.”

  “And Officer Thompson?”

  “Yeah...Officer Thompson...” Jack grimaced. “Well, he came calling about ten o’clock, just as I was getting ready for bed. Said he knew someone had sold two men some bad drugs. Wondered if I knew anything about it. He was surprised to find me still living there in the apartment...after what happened. Said he figured once I got out of the hospital I’d move on.”

  “It must’ve been really hard, going back there. I—I can’t imagine that.” Kendi met his eyes in the soft orange glow. “I couldn’t have done it, I don’t think.”

  “I had to. It was the only way I could be sure to get them to take the pills.” He fell silent, his fingers aching to twine in her fire of her hair, though he couldn’t feel the silky softness for the bandaging. “When you watch people you love die...” He shook his head, then took a cleansing breath of air. “I found out I was still living after all, Kendi. Watching Mason and Harrison drop and squirm and kick on that asphalt...it was just what I needed—then. That was the first time I’d ever killed anyone. But now... I just wish none of it had ever happened. I have to face the decisions I’ve made—good and bad.” He gave a sardonic chuckle. “The monster lives—”

  “No!” Kendi moved close to him, and in the flickering light, he could see the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes. “Please, don’t say that,” she said more quietly. “I don’t know how you faced life after what you went through. Those men got what they deserved.”

  He raised his wounded right hand, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Yeah, but it didn’t bring Mikey back, or Amy. Nothing ever could. It’s been twelve years since I let myself—” He stopped himself from saying any more, his eyes holding hers with a kind of wonder.

  “Feel?” she asked softly.

  “No,” he murmured. “I was gonna say love. Twelve years—” His gaze moved over her face memorizing every small line, every lovely feature, and locking it into his heart. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Kendi’s lips curved up slightly at his uneasy tone. “Why, Mr. Taylor, are you telling me you love me, or taking it back?”

  He pulled her to him with no warning, his mouth and tongue claiming hers deliciously as his fingers speared through her long hair, holding her close. He savored the taste of her, the feel of her, taking in all the textures of her at once. The silken curtain of her hair lay soft against his skin in places that he could only feel where the bandages didn’t cover. The sweet moistness of her mouth opened for him as he explored the gentle curve of her breast under the flannel shirt she wore.

  He thought of the way she’d looked the moment she’d touched him at the creek bank. When she’d realized he wasn’t dead, there was relief in her eyes mingled with fear. She
’d recognized there was a danger in bringing him here, but her generous spirit and loving heart would not countenance leaving him in the freezing rain. Whatever the bond between them, it was strong. She had lain beside him in the dark nights when fever wracked him, giving him her warmth, had cleaned and bandaged his wounds, had done everything in her power to care for him far beyond the necessities for the past days that he’d been here.

  He held her between his hands, taking his lips from hers. The question was still in her green eyes, and he nodded. Her hand came up to touch his cheek. “I’m telling you I love you, Kendi. And that’s one thing I’ll never take back. I’m a man of my word.”

  “Don’t be so scared,” she whispered, a tear trailing down her face as she tried to smile.

  “I’m not. Not anymore. I love you.”

  “I know.” She looked down. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  He understood what she meant. She was afraid the newness, that the wonder of feeling again would wear off, and the love along with it. This had all happened so quickly…for both of them. But Jack knew himself. There was no way that would ever happen. Love like this didn’t come along often. Maybe once in a lifetime. He thought of Amy, whom he’d lost so long ago. Kendi was a gift. His “twice in a lifetime” love.

  “You won’t, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m here for the long run.” She met his eyes and he smiled, reaching to brush her tears away. “Trust me.”

  ****

  Kendi lay in Jack’s loose embrace. He was half-turned, lying on his side, her head just beneath his stubbled chin. She’d slept off and on, in the same cycle that he kept—waking when he shifted to get himself easy, or when his breathing became ragged; sleeping when his breathing evened out, or when she felt the tension ease from his muscles.

  Her fingers lay against his chest, feeling his heart beat steadily. Her leg was sandwiched between his, and she snuggled next to him as he pulled her closer, possessive even in sleep.

  The fire had burned low, and Kendi came awake gradually, aware of the contrasting chill of her skin that was exposed to the air with the areas that remained in contact with the warmth of Jack’s hard body.

  It was late afternoon, and she knew he’d be hungry when he awoke. Her own stomach grumbled, but she hated to get up from the warmth and security of the bed.

  She carefully rose up and covered his shoulders. The swelling around his eyes had begun to recede, the bruises still dark and painful looking. The cuts and abrasions were beginning to heal, and the lines of tension were relaxing as time passed.

  She lay back down, taking care not to jar him as she did so. His breathing was slow and even, but she knew he was on the edge of wakefulness as he shifted. She looked up into his face, reaching out to lay her hand on his cheek as her fingers idly played in his hair. She bit her lip, her eyes filling with concern. He wouldn’t say it, but she knew there was something she’d forgotten to see to—his shoulders. The muscles had to still be sore, given they’d hung him from a hook in the ceiling. That pain wouldn’t have left him in four days’ time. She moved slightly, as if to push the covers back, and Jack’s hand tightened in a brief hold around her arm.

  “Where you goin’?” he asked sleepily. “You finally get scared off, looking at this?” He opened his eyes and gestured toward his face with his bandaged hand.

  “No,” Kendi answered firmly, hating the idea he’d joke like that. “I thought—well, you hadn’t said anything, but I suppose your shoulder muscles must still be aching.”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and Kendi rushed on. “I think I have a tube of some kind of pain relief gel in the bathroom. It might help some—even if it’s old. I thought I better come up with an idea for some kind of dinner for us, too.”

  “I hate to move.”

  “Does it hurt that much?”

  His lips slanted up slightly at the instant concern in her voice. “No. I just don’t want to let you go.”

  Kendi leaned forward and brushed a light kiss on his chin. “I’ll be back. Just let me go check on the medicine.” She waited for him to disentangle his limbs, then moved out from under the covers. “By the way…if you don’t mind wearing hand-me-downs, I pulled out a couple of flannel shirts that once belonged to he-who-shall-remain-nameless—my ex. He forgot them when he left, and they were in the back of the closet. Y’all are about the same size.”

  She paused to pull on her own too-big flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, shivering at the chill in the room, despite the fire. “After all, I did finish ruining your T-shirt…” She gestured to where she’d draped the shirts over the back of a chair, then turned to look at him, feeling his appreciative stare.

  He grinned at her. “Thanks. Hurry back.”

  “I will.”

  She bypassed the upstairs bathroom, knowing the medication wasn’t there. She’d just cleaned all the cabinets and drawers out last week. As she started down the stairs, she thought she saw a shadow pass by the front window. She stopped, halfway down the staircase, listening for any sound from the front porch. Her heart thundered in her ears. Have they come for him?

  When her father had been alive, he’d collected a few old guns he kept in an antique gun cabinet his great-grandfather had made. Kendi had never been able to convince herself to sell the small collection, even when she’d needed the money desperately. It was the one thing she’d shared with her father—her last link to him.

  She was halfway between the two floors of the house. She could go back up for the .38, but then Jack would be defenseless—and he’d feel as if he needed to get out of bed and come downstairs. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

  She hurried down the remaining steps and crossed the room to the gun cabinet. With sure fingers, she lifted the latch and reached for the old Bass .44 revolver. She knew it was loaded, but checked it out of habit.

  The wooden porch groaned. Someone had stepped on the third board from the top step—most likely a man, by the sound of it. A woman’s weight wouldn’t have caused that “squeak” at the end of the groan of the wood.

  He took another slow step, and Kendi knew exactly where he was positioned. She crossed the room quickly and lifted a corner of the blinds to look out. The man stood with his back to her, looking out toward the woods, the way he’d come, given the tracks he’d made. She wondered if he had someone waiting for him out there. If she opened the door, and he was an enemy, she’d have to kill him. Or Jack would.

  She moistened her lips, her mouth suddenly very dry. She’d never killed anyone, or anything, before in her life, but she knew she could do it. She would do it—to protect Jack. He’d been through so much.

  The knock sounded on the door, and Kendi jumped, letting go of the blinds in startled shock. She took a deep breath, letting her nerves settle, then walked toward the door. The glass storm door was locked. That would give her the extra second she’d need to slam the wood door shut, or shoot the gun, if she needed to. Collecting herself, Kendi turned the lock on the wood door just as the knock sounded again, rapid and insistent.

  She swung the door open, the .44 aimed and ready.

  Chapter Ten

  Kendi let the visitor stare into the barrel of the old Bass .44. That should put fear in anyone, she thought smugly.

  The man shook his head, his hands going up in a gesture of surrender.

  A spectre stood before her in the winter afternoon. How can this be?

  “Jason!” Kendi’s jaw dropped, but her initial surprise quickly turned to anger. She swallowed hard, her lips thinning in disapproval. He took an involuntary step forward, but she made no move to open the door for him.

  “So, you’re home. After all these years, here you are, politely knocking on my door.” Her finger tightened on the trigger. “What do you want, brother?”

  “Ken?” He stood gaping, speechless. “My God. How long has it been? Twelve years? Thirteen?”

  His breath steamed into a vaporous white cloud and she was reminded of the way the horses’ breathin
g did the same in the barn on cold mornings growing up here. A sharp pang of memory slammed into her. Eight years Jason’s junior, Kendi had been his shadow, trailing behind him to “help” with the chores. Breaking the ice in the troughs, making sure the horses were fed...she’d just wanted to be near him. She’d idolized him in those days.

  “You were just a kid last time I was home.”

  Looking across the barrel of the .44 into his hazel eyes, she could pretty much assure him she was no kid any more. She held the gun steady, her face feeling brittle as she tried to keep her emotions from giving her away.

  “What the hell do you want?” she asked again.

  “I—uh, can I come in?”

  “No.” The answer was immediate and certain.

  “Kendi, I—I’d like to talk—”

  “A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

  “Put that thing down, will ya?” Irritation crept into his tone. “I’m your brother, for God’s sake!”

  “Get out, Jason Robert Morgan! You get off my property, now! Before I shoot you!” Her finger twitched on the trigger.

  “You won’t shoot me, Kendall.”

  But she could tell he wasn’t sure of that. Not by the uncertain way he looked at her. “Don’t you bank on it, Jason. Why don’t you just disappear again? You’re good at that!”

  “Kendi—let me in. It’s freezing out here, and we can’t talk through this glass door.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “You’re damn skippy straight. We’re not talking at all. You couldn’t be bothered for the last twelve years, could you? So now—I can’t spare you five minutes, brother.”

  “Ken—just listen, honey. You’re mad, and I understand—but you don’t know why I did what I did.”

  “I don’t give a shit, Jason.” She lowered the gun a fraction, the relief immediate in his features. “You broke Mama’s heart—and Daddy’s. Just leaving like you did...that was crazy.”

  Jason looked down at the snow-packed porch. “Just give me a chance to explain!”