“We won't get nailed, Thorn. They've been looking for this guy for fucking years.”
Tagger shot him, so he's on a little vacation like I was. Not because he did anything wrong. It was defensible, totally. But that's the way it works. Somebody dies by a cop’s hand, and you're a cop... an internal inquiry begins to turn its ugly wheels.
My DNA is being matched to Roi’s. Normally, we'd be waiting for two weeks, but with a foreign national involved, it'll be a rush job. I don't think my undercover career can survive this scandal. The best we can do is keep it off Mick's ass. The blood bath happened where his jet is kept, so the media will be all over him again.
I look through the glass and just make out the top of her head. Ink spills over her white pillow. My palm makes a print on the window.
I move away before she sees me.
Tag jogs to keep up with me. “Whoa, Thorn. You're just going to leave, buddy?”
I pivot, and he bumps into me.
“Here's the thing... she fucking did the stiletto tap dance on my chest.” I clench my hand and bring it to my chest. “She sucked the life outta Thorn.” I swirl my hand over my heart. “He's in there somewhere but right now—no oxygen, ya dig?”
Tag nods, his eyes kinda buggy. “I do.”
“Good.” I burst through the double glass doors of the hospital’s entrance and suck in a lungful of moist Seattle air. I turn around.
Tag's still there.
“What?” I ask.
“Thorn—” he begins in a soothing voice.
“Uh-uh.” I wave away his words like a tick trying to bite my ass.
“Come on, dude. Give her a chance to explain!”
I whirl around and our noses almost touch. “There's nothing to explain. She played me. I'd go to the ground for her.” My eyes feel dry and tight, like they want to burst. “I did.”
I walk away before I fucking cry like some pussy.
I swipe my cheeks as I move to my screaming red car. Matches my mood.
I ignore the water on my hands.
*
Juliette
“Okay, you're so telling Kiki what happened,” Kiki says.
I sigh, pulling on my low-slung combat-style boots. I take my time lacing them, not looking at Kiki.
“Where the eff is Thorn?”
I still don't say anything.
“Juliette, ya better look at me or I'm gonna blow a circuit!”
I look up, and Kiki gasps, stepping back. She says, “Who the fuck messed up your face?”
I grab my purse and move through my hospital room door.
She follows.
“Juliette! Stop, you pain in the ass!”
Ignoring her, I slap open the hospital’s main doors, wincing at the pain. It's phantom pain. Don't know where I got it, just have it after a fight.
She runs in front of me and grabs my elbows. My face pinches.
She latches onto the spot where that old guy grabbed me, and it hurts.
“What? God... what's going on?” Kiki lightens her grip, and I relax. “Tagger, that insensitive doofus, calls me and asks if I'll pick you up, Mick won't answer one question, and Thorn won't pick up his phone!” Her eyes search me from head to toe. “And a gang of goddamned gnomes beat your ass. What. The. Hell. Happened?”
I blow out my frustration. “I lied to Thorn.”
“You mean lie-lie? Or white lie or...?”
“Lie by omission.”
“Kinda like white lie then?” Kiki bites her lip.
I plunge. “I'm married to Shepard.”
Kiki cringes.
That's very much the reaction I would have. I move around her, looking for a cab.
My dead heart still beats.
I raise my hand when I see a yellow cab.
“How could you be married to that a-hole? He screwed you over! Tell me it isn't true!” she pleads with me.
“It's true.”
The cab stops, and I turn, giving Kiki my full attention. “You've been so good to me. I'm so sorry.”
Kiki puts her hands on her head. “This can't be happening. It's like a goddamned nightmare.”
The cabbie honks, and Kiki scowls at him.
“Don't go,” she begs. “I know there's something reasonable in this mess. Please tell me—I'm a good listener.”
I hold my eyes open, but the tears still fall.
Kiki steps into me, grabbing my hands. “Don't go, Simone—Juliette, whatever!”
“You go now!” the cabbie shouts through the open passenger-side window.
I turn. He's Iranian. I tell him to fuck off in Farsi.
Kiki bursts out laughing, and I do too.
“I don't have to speak the language to know that one,” she says.
The driver swears, his wheels squealing as he roars off.
“Can't stay classy, can ya?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Come on, us tacky broads have to stay together.”
*
One week, one hour, thirty-seven minutes, and a breath of seconds since I've seen Thorn.
I wrap my arms around my knees, the borrowed pajamas soft against my skin.
It's two a.m., and here I sit. Insomnia—again.
I look at the letter for the tenth time. Registered mail from France. The postage is old. Many times it's been delivered and forwarded.
Finally it has found me.
The freedom I should feel is hollow.
The divorce decree is legitimate. Shepard is no longer my husband.
He was trying to give me a gift. Somewhere in all that callous packaging, he loved me.
Enough to let me go.
But the man I really love, who I chose—he won't have me.
Everyone has tried to contact Thorn.
He's not answering. Gone like a ghost.
Thorn haunts me.
I hear a door open and close, and my heart rate ticks up. Who could be here?
The police have taken care of everyone involved. They arrested my father, who lives in the US, for the human slave trade of his own daughter. Shepard is still on the loose, but the real evil has been expunged.
Roi is no longer King.
The dead can't rule.
A soft knock comes at my bedroom door and I look up, startled.
Kiki comes in and closes it tightly. Her eyes have lost the vestiges of sleep. Her palms flatten on the wood.
“He's here,” she says.
My heart lurches. “Who?”
“Jesus—Thorn. Duh.”
“Why?” I ask.
Kiki rolls her eyes. “Find out, fool!”
She steps away from the door, and Thorn enters.
He's so beautiful I want to cry. This man who was tortured as a boy. I want to dump myself into his arms, but I know that's not the way to fix things between us.
He glances at Kiki.
She leaves.
He and I stare at each other. His presence fills the room, overwhelming me.
Thorn crosses his arms. “I'm listening.”
“It's two in the morning.” I instantly want to kick myself.
He shrugs, and I watch his muscles like a starving animal.
“Can't sleep,” he says.
I feel my cheeks warm. “I can't either.”
Silence hangs between us.
“I—Thorn.” I hang my head. “Shepard married me to keep me from Roi. He tastes all the new girls, and Shepard knew that if he was my husband, Roi would respect that. He wouldn't have me.”
I don't look up. I can't.
“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “So sorry.”
His arms come around me, and my nose fills with the sharp scent of soap, his light cologne, and him.
Gradually, my arms go around him.
“I know.”
His voice rumbles against my chest.
I pull away, and his fingertips touch my face lightly. He traces the healing bruise on my face.
“What do you know?”
“What I need to,” Thorn says, his eyes glittering down at me.
I search his face in the gloom. “What do you know?”
Thorn smiles. “That you're never going to be married to anyone.”
My eyebrows pop.
“But me,” he finishes.
My heart stops.
“You can't know... I mean—”
His finger stops my protest. “Thorn knows.”
I shake my head
He nods. “I've always known.”
“Known what?” Breathe, Juliette.
“That the wait is over. It's finally fucking over.”
He's lost me. What wait?
My face scrunches, and Thorn smooths the pucker between my brows. He trails his thumb over my eyebrow and down my face. It stops at my collarbone, and he wraps his hand around my shoulder, kneading it. A little moan escapes before I can stop it.
His eyes darken from that one noise.
“The wait for what?” I ask.
He presses me to him, all of him against all of me. My eyes close, and my tears soak his shirt. Neither of us move.
“The happy, Juliette,” he says against my hair.
“I've found the happy, and it's you. It's always been you.”
He's no longer speaking in third person.
Thorn is finally him.
THE END
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A Druid Series Novella
Volume 1
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Copyright © 2011 Marata Eros
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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***Adult Reading Material***
The material in this document is intended for mature audiences.
Please note this book deals with disturbing themes including violence and murder. Might contain triggers.
CHAPTER ONE
I looked at the clock, yet again... and knew that if my boss caught me I'd be toast. Safe in my cubicle, I swung my gaze away from the dreaded time and looked for Michelle. She'd be hanging by the cooler, which she was.
Michelle caught me looking and lifted her chin up in greeting and grinned. She knew what I was about. It was all about getting out of here and doing something for ourselves. It had been a Long-Damn-Week and I was going to let my hair down and have some fun.
Michelle wrapped up her conversation with one of the petty chicks that lounged all day while we picked up the slack.
As Michelle walked toward me, I thought that maybe we wouldn't have to change: pencil skirts, thigh high stockings, stacked heels and blouses that yoked just where they should be to look sexy, nothing too much.
Michelle stood in front of me, tapping a foot. “Watching the time won't help it go faster.”
“Yes, I know, but I feel like the day should have ended already.”
“I've got an idea, let's go to Spinners tonight,” she nearly squealed in delight. I wasn't feelin' the love on that place. It was always packed with a rough crowd and you had to beat the guys off with a bat.
Michelle saw my expression and started to wheedle immediately, “Listen, give it a half hour and if it's super-lame, we'll just bail and go somewhere else. Like that brewery place... what's it's name?”
“Talbot's,” I replied absently.
She snapped her fingers. “That's it!”
“Listen,” she leaned forward and our hair mingled together, “that new gal... with the red hair...”
“Molly?” I said, automatically looking around for her.
“Yeah,” she waved her hand, dismissing the name. “She was talking about that piece of creepy news that's been circulating today.”
I looked at her blankly.
“Oh for shit's sake, Rachel! Don't you pay attention to anything?”
“Not really,” I said noncommittally. My life was beyond boring right now. I worked here, hung out with Michelle, worked out, read, fed my cat. I was dying for some Excitement. Dying. But the news wasn't going to deliver. Excitement... no way.
“You're hopeless! Anyway,” she sounded the syllables out slowly, “there's been another killing. Another bleed-out.”
That got my attention.
It had been almost a month since the first murder and they still hadn't found the killer.
Then there were the rapes.
Somehow, it was all connected. Men were killed and drained dry of their blood and if there were women with them, they were raped.
But none of the women could remember the attack or their attacker.
Our gazes locked. “So... they found another body. Two, actually.” Michelle said ominously, waggling two fingers.
Great. Just when I thought we could flounce around for the weekend. Talk about a wet blanket.
“Maybe... we shouldn't go to Spinners then. I mean, if it's not safe.”
“Eff-that, you're going! I just wanted to spread the gory gossip.”
“That's kinda sick, you know.”
Michelle nodded vigorously, she knew.
I sighed. There was no getting out of it once Michelle had her mind set. And, in my soul... if I didn't get a break from this job and do something out-of-body, I'd scream.
“I gotcha talked right into it, don't I?” Her eyes sparkled.
“I guess but, we need to be careful, especially now,” I said in a conspirator’s whisper.
“Hell, I'm more worried about the regular guys.”
“Were the women... you know, was there blood... there?” I asked.
She spun back around, her skirt twirling a little with the motion. “That's the major weird thing, they had all been bitten, but still had their blood. Only a pint gone.”
Well, wasn't that just comforting.
Michelle winked as she sauntered off, hips swaying. “Pick ya up at seven sharp.”
She didn't wait for me to respond. Michelle knew she had me, hook, line and sinker.
I gathered up all my stuff, slipped my heels back on my feet and headed for the door.
Unfortunately, my dragon lady of a boss was blocking my way.
“Miss Collins, I see you're ready to leave.” She looked at her behemoth of a wristwatch. “Two minutes after five.” She raised a humongous unibrow at me and I stifled a giggle. It was hard to be pissed at her when she looked so ridiculous.
Almost.
“Yes. That's traditionally when the work day ends for us here, Ms. Hogan,” I replied, thinking with mild irritation that Hogan had me by the short hairs. She knew I needed the job, she couldn't lambast me for leaving when the work day was through, technically. But... she liked to make me feel diminished for leaving so close to the chiming of the clock.
Hogan looked me over from head to toe, taking in my long black hair, so deep a black it had blue highlights in the right light. My eyes were a pale blue, I was shapely but not skinny, and on the tall side. I didn't consider myself a hot number but I held my own. Hogan, on the other hand looked like she w
as always trolling for a new bridge.
I had discreetly pressed my elbow into the elevator button and it dinged just as she opened her mouth to mention something else equally unimportant, her jowls swinging as she popped her mouth open then closed it again.
I felt my escape portal open at my back and walked backwards into its gaping mouth, never more glad to be out of mortar range of the enraged cow, aka my boss.
She glowered at me, starting to waddle forward and I blurted out, “Have a great weekend!” The door swept closed in front of me.
I did a mental forehead-wipe. Thank God I was out of there.
As the elevator descended I prepared myself for the onslaught of cold weather, my car would need at least five minutes to heat up. The days were long here in the north and heating my car in the underground parking garage was just part of what we did in Alaska.
The elevator doors hissed apart and the cold air swept into the tight space, momentarily stealing my breath. I huddled my full length coat around myself, silently wishing the car was already warm. I rushed out of the elevator's cocoon of heat, my heels making clicking sounds on the concrete as I made my way to my car. If you could call it that.
As I approached I knew my car stood out, it was a Smart Car and Michelle liked to tease and say it was a toaster that I drove, not a real car. I smiled, she had me there.
I fumbled with my keys, finally yanking my glove off with my teeth, groaning as the cold air assaulted my fingertips, making them instantly numb.
“Hey, Rachel,”
I dropped my keys on the ground, spinning, my hand to my heart.
It was Erik, a guy from work. My shoulders slumped in relief. He scared the shit out of me.
“Scare you?” he smiled.
I smiled back tentatively. He had really been pursuing me and I wasn't that interested. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly but there was just something off about him.
Erik approached me and I stiffened a little, but he bent over, jerking the keys off the ground and put a finger through the loop of my key fob and hung them off his finger in front of my nose.
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