“Aiden?”
“Yeah?”
“Watch yourself. Your problems are more than Cornell. A lot more. We’re having a hard time getting past a lot of red tape, but I promise to let you know.”
I nodded and left.
It was far beyond just Cornell.
Chapter Eight
The house was dark and empty, as I sat on the couch staring at the blank screen of the TV. I’d never been one to watch television, lack of time. I’d catch the occasional movie, but now I had time to watch shows I’d put on a list. I couldn’t bring myself to turn it on.
Memories floated across the TV screen, Jillian as a knobby kneed, gangly redhead the other kids picked on until she showed an ability to throw a powerful left hook. The time we’d snuck into the theatre, to see Back to the Future II and got caught by the ushers. When we’d taken old man Wellington’s 1967 Chevy truck for a joy ride and broke the flywheel. Galloping the horses across fields, racing through the valley, laughing. Her first broken heart, when I ended up beating the shit out of John Garren for causing her to cry.
Watching her wave to me from the back of her parents’ Suburban as they moved to Alabama. The loss of the only friend who let me be me. Until Karen.
“Why are you staring at a blank screen, Squirrel?”
I jumped and turned, so lost in memories I didn’t hear her enter. “Do you knock?” I grinned. My heart skipped a beat, and pounded. She was caught in the moonlight, showcasing her beauty as an adult. Something changed, clicked, and instead of seeing the little girl I grew up with, she was a beautiful woman paying a lot of attention to me.
“I guess I have a hard time. I never knocked as a kid to come in, and I keep forgetting I should now. I apologize.” She turned.
“No, I don’t want you to knock. I like you just walking in, to be honest. But with all the violence recently, I’d hate for you to walk in during a dangerous situation. I’m glad your back, I don’t want you to go again.” Why the hell did I say that? I stood, shoved my hands in front pockets and stared at the floor for a moment. “Listen, let’s grab some leftovers in the fridge. I could use a beer.” I scrambled around the couch and hot-footed it into the kitchen, flipping the light on.
She walked into the kitchen, footsteps silent.
“How do you do that? Most need years of training to walk without making a sound.” I opened the fridge, grabbed a beer and held it up. She nodded, sitting on a barstool. I popped the top and gave it to her. I started rummaging through the fridge, finding the makings of a great roast beef sandwich. I retrieved all the necessary ingredients, placing them on the countertop, grabbed a beer for me, and made each of us something.
The plate in front of her, she answered, “Mom had a hard time adjusting to Alabama, the slightest noises would set her off sometimes. I learned to be super quiet.” She grabbed the sandwich taking a bite. “Damn, Squirrel! This is delicious,” she spoke around a mouthful.
“I’m not totally helpless. Should see what I can do with an MRE.” I chowed on the sandwich, hiding the smile. I wasn’t going to tell her I’d learned a few things in Laramie.
We ate, talked, drank the beer, and tried to catch up on twenty-five years. I kept my stories to the funny stuff, not wanting her to see my dark side. How easily it was to kill.
“Aiden, why don’t we go catch a movie and dinner?”
The question came out of left field, but I was helpless to say no. “I’d like that. There’s some great new movies out.”
“Come to my house, I’ll cook,” she gave me a smile.
As if I could say no to her cooking. I held out a hand, “A date. You have a deal!”
She laughed. “I have a late shift tonight, but I’m off the next couple of days. It’s, what, Monday? So what about a matinee on Wednesday, and we can watch bad movies at my house, eat dinner, and throw popcorn at the screen?”
I grinned. “Wednesday it is.” I stood, escorted her to the door, and watched her leave. The Jeep she drove looked like a wreck, but I could hear the engine purring, no creaks or groans. Interesting.
Convinced she was safe, I locked the house down and cleaned the kitchen. Though barefoot, my footsteps echoed. Deciding not to dive into anymore of my memories, I headed for the study.
Taking all the paperwork from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, I spread them across the desk, and dug in.
*
The papers left me reeling. I sat back in the chair, an elbow on the arm, one hand rubbing the five o’clock shadow on my chin. If anything, Corrine Middleston was a woman of great strength, devious, and a tad vindictive. Not that I blamed her. What Ralph Smythe did to her should have put him in front of a firing squad. But Alistair Middleston loved her, knowing what happened, and never blaming Corrine. He’d even raised the child as his own. I had vague memories of my great-uncle, stories he disappeared one day, and my grandfather never getting over it.
It was the knowledge of Corrine’s actions that caused me sit back and blink rapidly. I also knew exactly what Cornell Smythe wanted, and would kill for.
But was it worth protecting … or dying for? That was the real question.
Chapter Nine
I drove to Jillian’s, charmed by the small ranch home on the west side of town. Blonde brick façade, with a green roof and matching shutters. The front door painted an eye catching fire engine red. Chuckling, I knocked and looked at the neighborhood, spying two late model trucks, four older cars, and three motorcycles in the driveways, and people mowing lawns, or puttering in garages.
I turned to face the door, sighing. Some habits couldn’t be stopped. I could recount every license plate, give a detailed description of every person, the two stray cats and one dog playing fetch. I planned nine escape routes, and the best places to hide in case of firefight. Damn it, Middleston, this isn’t a war zone.
Jillian’s door swung open, and I grinned. Her red hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, making her look young, with a form fitting t-shirt proudly proclaiming her to be a wild child, faded low rise jeans, and flip flops.
All the blood drained from my head and went further south. Swallowing hard, “The movie starts in half an hour, you ready?” Thank goodness my voice was long past puberty. Probably would have squeaked.
“Yup! Let me grab my bag and we can go.” She left the door open as she ran into the living room, grabbing a messenger bag off the couch and bounded past me to the truck. “Man, nice ride!”
I shook my head, laughing, and ran to open the passenger side door for her. For reasons unknown, I wanted to impress Jillian. I’d detailed the truck, pressed my jeans, wore my least faded t-shirt, even cleaned the dirt and manure off my boots.
Taking her hand, I helped her into the high riding Ram 3500, and shut the door once she was safely inside. Glancing around the neighborhood a second time, I noticed one man watching us. I waved, and jumped in the truck. In the rearview, I noticed the man continued to watch, and didn’t return the wave. A distinct expression of jealousy marred his handsome features. Interesting.
Jillian practically danced in the seat. She acted excited, and I wondered if she didn’t get out much. But I got caught up, and the short drive was filled with silly knock-knock jokes.
I had my hand on the small of her back, walking her through the parking lot to the movie theatre. I noticed others giving us a wide berth, and I dropped the smile.
“Maybe this was a bad idea, Jilly Bean.” I didn’t want her judged for being seen with me.
She moved to the side, and I dropped my arm, not blaming her. A shock went up my arm as she grabbed my hand, and squeezed. “They don’t understand, don’t know you, Aiden. I’m not ashamed to be seen with you.”
I stopped and stared in her jade eyes. She was sincere, and without an ounce of pity. I nodded, pulling her hand into the crook of my arm. My chest puffed out a little, and I didn’t look at the ground again.
*
The movie was great, and Jillian held my hand the whole time.
I was a teenager again, the giddy feeling of a crush making it hard to concentrate. In the truck, she spoke the twists and turns of the popular flick, and I realized I hadn’t thought of Karen since Jillian asked me on the date.
Back at her house, dusk was falling, creating a wonderful sunset. The purples, oranges, blues, whites and browns settled slowly behind the mountains, and for a moment, I almost believed in a god.
“Come on, I got stuff for a great dinner. I know you prefer white to red sauce, but wait ‘til you taste what I’m about to whip up.” She pulled me inside. “Let me get you a beer, you relax while I cook.”
“I can help, you know. I’m not helpless.” I gave a lopsided grin.
“Cooking is relaxing for me. Plus, I like cooking for you. Especially those moans of appreciation.” She winked.
My mouth went dry.
Shaking it off, I sat at the table settled next to a big window with a view of the mountains. “Tell me about Boston.”
She laughed, “They talk different to those in Alabama, and by the time I arrived, I had an accent. It made for some interesting conversations as several friends and I completely misunderstood each other.”
I laughed. “I can imagine some of those conversations.”
“The best ones were with professors native to the area. I’d turn in a paper, and have it completely wrong. It was like learning a new language at times.” She moved easily around her kitchen, making pasta, grinding meats with spices, starting the sauce. She poured herself a glass of white wine and took a sip. “What about you? What can you tell me?”
“Only that I was trained well,” I looked away. “But I did have to learn several languages. I tried to talk to someone in Brazil once, ended up calling him a herpes infested fish head. My buddies laughed for a couple of years.” I chuckled at the memory.
She laughed, her head going back, her body shaking, and snorting twice. I fell in love with her in that moment.
Chapter Ten
“You need to roll me out of the chair.” I sat back, watching her grin from ear to ear. I patted my flat stomach, and slouched in the chair.
“Glad you enjoyed it.” She stood and took the plates to the sink.
I stood, “I’m going to help you do dishes, no arguing.”
“Like I’d argue, I hate doing dishes.” She tossed a towel into my face.
We spent thirty minutes in companionable silence, dancing around each other, washing, and drying. She put them in the right places.
I looked at one point in the bottom cabinets, and pulled. “You have a dishwasher!” I threw the wet towel into her chest.
She giggled, “Yeah, but it’s not often a hot guy helps clean, you know.”
I stared, undecided. Man up, Middleston. Kiss her. I took a step forward, putting a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her into my chest, leaning down and stopping an inch away. I noticed her breathing changed, pupils dilating, mouth open slightly. “May I?”
“God, yes,” she breathed.
It was all I needed. I took her mouth, nibbling her upper lip, teasing. Her hands fluttered on my arms, sliding across my shoulders, and gripping my head. Her body fell into mine, and I swallowed the small moan she released. I tried to keep my hips away, not wanting her to know exactly the effect the kiss had.
I licked her lips and she opened. I dove in, tasting the white wine, the Italian spices, and something sweet. My hands moved to her waist and without thought, I grabbed her tight against me. I groaned into her mouth, and mimicked what I really wanted to do to her mouth.
Don’t rush. The thought sliced through the fog. Slowly disengaging, I put my forehead to hers, wondering if I’d breathe right again.
“Damn, Aiden.”
“Something like that.”
She stepped back. “Thank you.”
I frowned.
“For stopping. Most men would try to push every boundary.”
“They have no respect for you.” I stepped back, giving her room to decide what next. When she didn’t move, I knew. “Jillian, I’m going to head out. But maybe another date? Soon?”
She smiled, reaching to run a hand over my cheek and down my neck. “I’d like that.”
I nodded and turned to leave.
“Aiden?”
I faced her, “Yes?”
“I know you were in love with Karen. I’m not going to compete. I want my own space in your heart. I’m going to fight for it.” She lifted her chin.
“Sweetheart, of that I have no doubts.” I gave a curt nod and left.
Chapter Eleven
I drove in the moonless night, wondering how I could fall in love so easily. I’d kill for Jillian, and slaughter anyone who hurt her. What did it mean? The questions circled until I understood. Over time, I’d reconciled Karen loved me like a brother, and I would never stop loving her. But I could keep moving forward. What Jillian sparked was new, and would need time to grow. I wanted it to.
She was different to Karen. Jillian was a healer, not a warrior. She didn’t harbor nightmares, and I wondered if she could handle mine. Understand my past, deal with it. I barely could, how could she?
Parking in front of the house, I draped my arms over the steering wheel, and stared out the windshield into the black night. Could I bring Jillian into my life? The violence of it, the past, the future. All questions I had to answer sooner or later.
I chose later.
Locking the truck out of habit, I stopped and took stock of the house and yard. Instincts were on high alert, but all I could detect was the wind against the tree tops.
Nothing, not even a cricket. I fell into battle stance immediately, turning slowly. Whatever was hiding didn’t move. Crap, weapons are inside.
I walked on the balls of my feet, listening. Few could walk without some kind of noise, without stepping on a twig or a leaf.
On the porch, I grabbed the doorknob.
A split second of pain and the sound of bones cracking reverberated through my head before the darkness.
*
I woke, sitting up, my head feeling as if it would split in two. Hands and feet were bound with duct tape to a chair, but at least I was dressed. That was one particular torture I didn’t want to live through a second time.
I looked around, in the shadows of the barn behind my house. Ten feet away, a small shape was similarly tied to a chair. It was morning, and the sun pushed through one door. Shaking my head to clear the last of the cobwebs, I squinted at the other figure.
At the sight of the long red hair, I lost my shit. “Jillian! Who the fuck?” I rocked the chair, looking for a loose leg, anything to get free. “Who did this to you?” My shouts echoed in the wooden structure. I yanked on the duct tape holding me to the chair, but they’d taped me ankle to knee and elbow to wrist. “Let me go! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? You’re going to die for this!” Rage saturated every inch of my mind, the need to get Jillian to safety making my heart pound. I fought for the static foam, against the heat of emotions.
A large male moved to stand in front of me, and a big fist slammed into my jaw. It rang a few bells.
I jumped into the void. For Jillian and myself, I had to let it consume everything.
Releasing a cold laugh, “That the best you have? I’ve had terrorists deliver better punches.” With emotion gone, I could think and see. I heard the footsteps of three others, noted shadows of three men moving around behind Jillian.
The male moved closer, and punched me in the head six times. I shook my head, heard the crack of a cheekbone, and spit out a tooth. “Seriously, a twelve-year-old boy delivers better punches.”
He growled, grabbed my jaw and forced my head so far back I could barely breathe. His breath was rank, smelling of cigarettes and unbrushed teeth. “I’ll happily kill you after I take that beautiful piece of ass in front of you several times. Her screams would sweeten it.”
Forgive me for what I must do, Jilly Bean.
“What the fuck ever. She is barely an acquai
ntance. Wouldn’t be the first woman I watched scream.” I’m lying, Jilly Bean. Please forgive me. And if you can’t, just live and I’ll be okay.
“Oh? I saw you leave her place last night. Was pretty cozy.” His grip loosened a little.
“I failed at getting a piece of ass. Do you blame me for trying?” Come on asshole, believe me. In the peripheral vision, I saw her raise her head and look at me. They’d already worked her over, and the expression on her bloody, swollen face was one of disbelief.
I pulled the static foam closer.
He leaned forward an inch, hand barely holding my chin. I yanked out of his hold and slammed my head into his nose. Ignoring the pain, I waited for him to fall forward, and like clockwork, he sunk to his knees, yelling about his broken nose. His companions moved to help, and using my toes I rocked the chair back, pushing forward when it came down. I landed on Broken Nose, and rolled sideways, hand next to his pocket. I’d seen something sticking out and wanted it.
I bounced as hard as I could, and a hand found the object. A switchblade. I slid it under my wrist, making the duct tape binding tight enough to cut the circulation.
I was lifted off the man and thrown into a stall door. The chair broke, and I was hauled away. They started kicking my sides, and legs, careful to avoid my head. Several ribs made a loud cracking sound, and the pain filled my skin, making it hard to breathe or think.
I the switchblade.
“Stop! Whatever you want, leave him alone!” Jillian’s voice echoed in the barn.
They stopped.
I lay on the floor, trying to think past the agony.
Jillian screamed. I struggled to stand, parts of the chair still taped to my legs and wrists making it hard. I pushed past the need to lay in a huddle, hearing her sobs and whimpers.
Through swelling eyelids, I watched one man take out a hunting knife and stab Jillian’s thigh. Her high pitched scream of pain would haunt my nightmares until the day I died.
Twisted Iron Page 4