Zane (The Powers That Be, Book 6)

by Harper Bentley

  “He’s been staying at her apartment trying to keep an eye on the asshole, and found out he’s workin’ for Theo Antonius. I guess Stewart caught on he was bein’ watched and went into hiding.” Robo shrugged. “So Powers figured he’d just catch him on one of his runs for Theo. And he sure ‘nuff did that tonight.”

  “Bet he’s feeling vindicated,” PC stated.

  “Damn straight he is. Can’t even imagine losing a pro career. But he must be feeling something good right now.”

  I was now on autopilot after hearing everything. No wonder Zane had gone stiff when I’d told him I loved him. He didn’t love me. He’d been using me from the start.

  OH MY GOD!

  “Officer, are we being charged with anything?” I asked.

  He looked at me in the rearview mirror.

  “I-I was just wondering because if we aren’t, could we leave?”

  I think he felt sorry for me because I was crying, so pulling out his cellphone, he made a call to Zane, I assumed.

  “Yeah, it’s Pope. These girls being charged or can I release them?” He listened for a moment. “Uh huh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. And congratulations.” After hanging up, he looked in the mirror again speaking to me. “Powers said you’re free to go, but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes before they can get your car out. The ambulance is blocking it.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  I sat there softly crying as we waited and Izzy rubbed my back. When we heard the sirens of the ambulance turn on, Robo got out of the car and opened the back door.

  “Come on, ladies,” he said.

  Still huddling close, Izzy and I followed him. We were out of the lot and had stepped onto the road, when I saw Zane to my right talking to a couple of detectives. He gave me that guy nod, jerking his head up, but I turned away and got into Izzy’s car. Once she was inside, I started it and we drove to my apartment.

  Chapter 18

  I don’t remember the drive home really. I do remember not letting Izzy’s hand go once.

  When we made it back to my apartment, she followed me inside, went into my room, got a bag and started packing things.

  “What’re you doing?” I asked in a haze.

  “You’re not staying here. You’re gonna stay with Corey and me for a while.”

  I wrinkled my brow not fully comprehending what she said and just shrugged. I guess she’d gotten everything because the next thing I knew, I was in her car and she was driving.

  I stared out the passenger window the whole way thinking the city lights looked so much prettier when they were blurred by tears. We pulled into the parking garage across from Premiere on Pine then getting my bag from the back, Izzy walked to my side and opened the door, taking my hand and leading me to the apartment building. We went up to the twenty-fifth floor and into Corey’s apartment. Everything was going in slow motion, like when you’re sick and have a fever.

  “Corey’s asleep,” she whispered as she tugged on my hand and took me to the second of two guest bedrooms that had en suites.

  She put my bag in a chair then hugged me hard.

  “I’m so sorry, Jilly Bean.”

  I hugged her back. I think. My entire body was still numb, so I could’ve just stood there like a rag doll. She sat me on the bed and unzipped my hoodie, pulling it off me. Then she took my sneakers off then hand on my elbow, had me stand up. She jerked back the covers and sat me down again and started looking through my hoodie pocket as I watched.

  “I need your phone,” she explained and pulling it out, told me, “I’m gonna take this with me tonight, okay?”

  I nodded as she leaned down and turned on the bedside lamp. Then she helped me lie down and covered me as I immediately curled into a tight ball. She then turned off the room light and walked to the other side of the bed and crawled in behind me and held me.

  “You’re gonna be okay, JB. You’re strong. You knew something was wrong and I didn’t listen. But it’s gonna be all right now, okay?”

  I nodded.

  And that’s the last thing I remember until the next morning when the sun shining brightly against the cream curtains woke me making me squint. I turned away and curled into a ball again, clenching my eyes shut.

  “Hey,” Izzy called from the doorway.

  I opened one eye then shut it.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes closed.

  Then something amazing happened. The room got dark. I peeked out of one eye again and saw her drawing darker curtains closed over the cream ones.

  “There. That’s better, huh?” she claimed.

  I nodded.

  She sat on the bed next to me. “Jilly? I promise it’s gonna be okay. Do you believe me?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t think I’d ever been in so much pain before. I felt like I’d been run over by a freaking train. And I felt nothing would ever be okay again.

  “You go back to sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit, okay?”

  I nodded and was out again.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  Three hours or three days later, who knew, Izzy checked on me again.

  “I brought you some chicken broth,” she said, coming in and placing a tray on the night stand.

  I shook my head and turned away, falling back to sleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  The next morning or two hundred years later, whichever, she tried again.

  “Jilly, I’ve got a bowl of corn flakes and a carafe of milk. I’m gonna leave them on the nightstand. You take your time waking up then eat, okay?”

  I nodded and turned away and fell asleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  She came back later, and I didn’t even try to figure the timeline of it. Thirty minutes or thirty years. What the fuck did it matter.

  “You didn’t touch your corn flakes, honey. You’re gonna have to eat something, JB.”

  I turned over and went back to sleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Jillian?” I heard a deep voice call.

  “Mmm?” I groaned from under my pillow.

  “You want me to beat the shit out of him?” Corey asked.

  I stuck a thumbs up out from under the covers and slept again.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “JB,” Izzy whispered.

  I opened an eye to see her holding my phone but covering the mouthpiece with her hand then I closed my eye.

  “Your mom’s on the phone. What do I tell her?”

  I wanted to laugh because there were lots of things I’d like her to tell her. But all I could do was turn over and fall back asleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Okay, this has been enough,” I heard from the bottom of the well I was standing in. “It’s Thursday. You’ve been out since Monday night. It’s time to get up!”

  The room was bright again and I groaned. “Shut the curtains.”

  I heard them closing which was good.

  “Love you, Iz,” I mumbled and went back to sleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Yes. No. No fucking way. Uh uh,” I heard and slowly lifted an eyelid to see Izzy pacing the room then closed it and turned over. “Good luck getting past the security guard.” I could hear her walking. “I don’t give a shit if you’re the goddamn King of fucking Siam, you’re not coming in here…I said no. No!”

  She sat on the side of the bed and I heard her toss a phone onto the nightstand as she let out a loud groan then mutter, “Asshole.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to call your best friend,” I rasped, my throat dry as the Sahara.

  “Look over here,” she ordered.

  I turned slowly to see her looking worriedly at me. “At least sit up and drink some water.”

  I hated to see her that way, so I did what she said even though every muscle in my body cried out in pain. But I did it, sitting against the cushioned headboard and took the bottle of water she offered me, and after taking a tentative first sip, I chugged the rest.

  “Good
,” she said, the concern on her face assuaging just a bit. “Are you hungry?”

  Focusing on my stomach area and assessing whether I was hungry or not, I decided I wasn’t and shook my head.

  “Dammit, Jilly Bean. You need to eat something.”

  “Can I,” I started to say and choked because my throat felt raw. When I finished coughing, I tried again. “Can I get an egg salad sandwich? From Starbucks. And a caramel Frappuccino?”

  She started crying. “Of course, you can. I’ll call down and have someone bring it up.”

  “Don’t cry,” I whispered.

  She wiped her cheek. “These are happy tears. I was so worried about you.”

  I squeezed her hand weakly. “Sorry.”

  She chuckled then sniffled. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re hungry.”

  “Always so easy to please,” I murmured making her laugh. I waited until she ended the call downstairs then asked, “Who was on the phone before?”

  I saw her eyes go hard.

  “Oh.”

  She frowned. “I won’t interfere. What you do is up to you. But I want you to know I want to slit his throat and reach in and pull his tongue out.”

  “That’s called a Columbian necktie,” I explained with a raspy voice. “Pablo Escobar, Columbian drug lord, had his men do them as an intimidation tactic. I think it worked.”

  The doorbell rang. “Your food is here. I’ll be right back.”

  I looked down at myself, still in my “May the Forest Be with You” t-shirt but I’d shed my jeans somewhere along the way. I really needed a shower. And to brush my teeth. Ick.

  “Here you go,” she said coming back into the room.

  “I need to brush my teeth first.”

  I flipped the covers off my legs and twisted putting my feet on the floor. When I hesitated, she put a hand under my elbow and helped me up. God. I felt so weak. She walked me into the bathroom that had all my things on the counter just like I had them at my apartment.

  “Thanks,” I turned and said to her, giving her a small smile.

  I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth then went back to sit on the bed and scarfed down the sandwich, taking intermittent sips of the frappe. Best meal ever.

  “I called Alicia and let her know you wouldn’t be in this week,” Izzy told me as I drank. “I told your mom you weren’t feeling well but you’d call her as soon as you felt better.” Her face went hard. “Then the asshole called and I told him he couldn’t see you. But like I said, it’s up to you.”

  I had no desire to see Zane Powers ever again.

  As far as I was concerned, he was dead to me.

  Which I told Izzy and she nodded saying she understood.

  When I was sure I’d keep the sandwich down, I got some clothes out and took an almost hour-long shower which felt amazing. After dressing, I joined Izzy in the living room.

  “I don’t know about you, but I think a Dick Van Dyke marathon is in order along with copious amounts of Half Baked. What do you say?”

  I nodded. “I’m totally in.”

  I must’ve fallen asleep halfway through season one because I woke up in the middle of the night still on the couch and saw that Izzy had covered me with a soft, fuzzy blanket. I got up and made my way to the guest room bed, which now had fresh sheets, and snuggled in. I dreamed that my hair was blue but I wanted it pink, and no matter what I did, it stayed blue. I was then on Fifth Avenue in New York City trying to find someone to fix my hair, going inside building after building, but every time I entered one, the people ignored me and turned their backs, but I could hear them mumbling, “He’s using you, he’s using you.” When I ran out of the last store, I was suddenly in a car with Izzy and we were being shot at. We screamed just before I crashed into a wall.

  I woke up crying.

  Chapter 19

  I stayed with Izzy the rest of the week, calling Chet to let him know where I was, just in case he’d been wondering, which he hadn’t. I also told him I’d be moving out.

  I called my dad and told him what happened with Rusty, leaving out the particulars. When he’d heard I’d been living with a felon, he’d thrown a fit. I told him it wasn’t like I’d known and that I’d trusted Chet. Of course, he’d gone to town on Chet, dragging his name through all kinds of mud saying he’d be giving my mom’s Aunt Ruby a call to “tell her a thing or two” immediately. I told him I didn’t feel safe in my neighborhood any longer, so Dad gave me a loan against my trust fund—my idea since I didn’t want to feel any more indebted to my parents than normal—and I used it to secure a one-bedroom apartment on the waterfront. I was moved in within a week.

  Over the next two months, Izzy and I had the best time decorating it, in spite of the arguments we’d had over my eclectic taste. Her taste was classic contemporary—that’s what growing up in fancy furniture stores did to you—but my taste was more hodgepodge-oh-this-is-cute-and-colorful-I-want-it-displayed-right-here-in-the-living-room, which drove her nuts. In the end, I got my way, mostly. I’d let her “win” by picking out a sofa from her parents’ store that was “functional yet elegant.” It was light beige and had the cushiest cushions ever with four throw pillows that I figured were there to annoy anyone sitting on it, and I secretly loved it but didn’t tell her because although she’d won the battle, she would’ve tried to win the war.

  Everything else was perfect. In the living room, there was a bright lime-green chair and mismatched end tables and coffee table that completely drove her nuts but that I adored. My very favorite thing was a double-ended chaise lounge that was the color of the ocean on a sunny day I’d put by the window so I could look out at the water and watch the ferry boats cross.

  I ditched my old bed, donating it to a women’s shelter, and got a cast-iron canopy bed that was fabulous. It by itself wasn’t really anything special, but when I draped some lengths of white chiffon fabric over the canopy rails then wove some twinkling lights into it, I was in love.

  The last piece of furniture was a dining table that was actually an old door, rustic white paint and all, four ladderback chairs, all different colors—red, black, teal and yellow—and my place was complete.

  She’d gotten me a gorgeous sunset picture of Mount Rainier that I hung over the fireplace, and I’d thrown in some pictures of us and friends from home, along with a framed Bewitched poster—from the TV show not the movie—that she didn’t even balk at since she’d gotten me the poster for Christmas last year along with the entire series on DVD because she liked the show too.

  My first night alone was good since Izzy and I had ordered in chicken enchiladas from a nearby authentic Mexican restaurant and toasted my new place with two and a half bottles of Dom Perignon. After making sure she’d gotten safely in a cab to go home, I’d ridden the elevator back up to my apartment, gone in and fallen into bed.

  The second night wasn’t nearly as fun. School had started and I’d had classwork along with a lab. When I’d finally made it home, I had leftover enchiladas then sat on the chaise and looked out at the water.

  It was then I allowed myself to cry.

  It happened to be Valentine’s Day, yippee, and, of course, I didn’t have a Valentine. But that wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was that I felt used.

  I felt betrayed.

  Thrown away.

  And I hated that.

  And I hated Zane.

  At seven, I received a text from an unknown number.

  Text Message—Tues, Feb 14, 7:02 p.m.

  Unknown: Hello! You’ll be receiving a gift from Brummett’s Floral Shop within the hour! (Brummett’s Floral Shop – The place to go for all your gift and floral needs 206-555-6712) Text STOP to unsubscribe

  Huh. Maybe Izzy had sent me something.

  Within the next minute, someone knocked and I cautiously went to the door, wiping my eyes, then looked through the peephole to see a guy standing there.

  “Yes?” I called.

  “Brummett’s Floral!”
he called back.

  I opened the door to see him holding a large clear vase of gorgeous purple-blue flowers which he handed to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, setting them on the small, quirky table I’d found a few days before at a home décor store.

  My purse was also there, so I pulled out my wallet to give him a tip.

  “If you’ll sign here,” he said, handing me an iPad-type device which I used the stylus to sign. Then handing him the money, I thanked him and closed the door.

  There were two cards, one telling me the flowers were Ocean Breeze Orchids (just lovely!) the second which was in an envelope that said,

  I’m sorry

  —Zane

  That pissed me right the hell off and I wanted to chunk the vase into the wall. But common sense told me not to, so I called Izzy instead even though she was out with Corey.

  “Hey, what’s up?” she answered, whispering.

  “Zane just sent me flowers! The bastard!” I hissed.

  “How’d he find you?”

  “He is a detective,” I replied angrily.

  “Oh, yeah. Are you okay?”

  “No!” I started crying. “I just want to have someone take my brain out and reprogram it. Like that movie with Jim Carrey and Kate, uh, Kate-who-was-in-Titanic. I don’t want to think about him ever again! I hate him!”

  Of course, I didn’t hate him. I loved him. Or I had. And he’d hurt me more than anyone else ever had before.

  “I know, honey. I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s what he said! The note. All it said was, “I’m sorry” and his name. Like that’ll fix anything!”

  “I know.”

  “Oh, God, Iz, I’m sorry. You and Corey are out. I’ll let you go.”

  “I’m good. We’re just waiting for the second act to start,” she said quietly.

  I’d forgotten that they were at Hamilton, damn it.

  “Call me tomorrow. Love you,” I said and hung up.

  Then I was left to stare at the beautiful flowers, not really knowing what to do with them. As an environmentalist, I couldn’t just throw them out. So I checked myself in the mirror by the door, grabbed the flowers and my keys then went down to the lobby.