Suddenly, a gravelly picture that was probably taken on a cell phone popped up on the screen. It showed Jarrett on a gurney, unconscious. He appeared to be shirtless, with multiple bands of gauze wrapped around his torso. Other than that, it was hard to decipher anything else.
Keirah was in shock. Her eyes immediately clouded with unshed tears, and she hoped beyond a reasonable doubt that somehow Jarrett would pull through, that he would survive.
“Jarrett is still in critical condition. He has a wife, Linda, of six years, and a newborn baby boy. She has yet to comment on the situation. We’ll have more on this story later tonight. And now back to your scheduled programming.”
Keirah was still dumbstruck by the turn of events when Noir walked through the door a half an hour later. She had never started a fight with him about anything really, but this time he pushed her too far. Did he really think that she wouldn’t find out about what he had done, and even if she had, did he think she wouldn’t be upset by it? Did he think she was really that … compliant?
“Hello, darling,” he greeted with a wolfish grin, pushing his eyebrows up as he walked in front of her. When he saw the glare currently occupying her brown eyes, he cocked his head at a forty-five degree angle, as if he was a scientist studying a specimen. “What, pray tell, is, uh, wrong?” he asked.
“What did you do to Jarrett?” Keirah asked, her eyes narrowed sharply and her stance rigid and tense. His presence did nothing to intimidate her; she had known him for too long and knew him too well.
“Ah, I see you’ve, hum … heard about our dear commissionerrrrr,” Noir drawled, the corner of his lips twitching up as he regarded Keirah with bronzed eyes. They sparkled darkly, Keirah uncertain of their intent. “Well, it seemed he had a … oh, what shall we call it? A, a situation.”
Keirah, without fully comprehending what she was doing, reached up and slapped him across the face. Hard.
It was the sound of her hand touching his skin in such fashion that caused Noir the most surprise, but he reached up and touched his chin anyway. Now as he regarded the woman in front of him, all amusement left his face. He was angry.
“Why did you do that?” she asked him. “Out of all the people you could have done that to, why did you choose him?”
This time it was Noir who slapped Keirah across the face. Because he was much stronger than she was, his slap stung and would probably leave a mark.
“Because you’re mine, and he, well, he doesn’t seem to think so,” Noir growled, his gloved hands curling at his sides. “And yanno what? I hope the bastard dies. Then Onyx will be in such an uproar and at, uh, well at its most vulnerable. I could take them for a, hum … ride.”
“And what about me?” Keirah asked, her eyes shifting to a color of almost black due to the tears accumulating in her eyes. “Don’t you care what I think?”
“You shouldn’t care about … that man,” Noir said, his voice completely articulated and slow. “All you should care about is me.”
“Well, I do care about Jarrett,” Keirah said. “He was there for me when you couldn’t be.”
It was probably the words that had sent him off, knowing that he wasn’t the sole person she cared about in this cold and bleak world, or maybe it was the fact that she pointed out something he wanted to avoid hearing despite how true it was. Whatever it was caused him to seethe in anger, however. He lunged at Keirah, needing to take his anger out on something.
Well, it appeared Keirah needed to do the same thing because she met his attack with one of her own, and for the next five minutes, they slapped, punch, kicked, and everything in between. It was the first physical fight they had gotten into without the intention of sex during or after.
“I can’t be here,” Keirah shouted, pushing herself up into a standing position as best as she could.
“Fine,” Noir said, his tone dripping with dark sarcasm. “Go. You’ll come back.”
But Noir flinched when he heard the front door of the manor slam shut.
He let out a breath through his nose, refusing to immediately clean his wounds.
Now what?
Noir was still staring at the door three hours later, waiting for her to come back just so he could rub it in her face that she had. His golden eyes were still bronzed; he continued to be angry, despite having carved into two dead henchmen that had been pissing him off. But that hadn’t helped anything. He needed to see her; it was only her that would make his anger dissipate.
He felt like a caged tiger, pacing back and forth in the entrance hallway, just waiting, just waiting. His eyes were narrowed, prepared. He even had a whole speech planned of what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. He would slap her, of course, for caring about another man besides him, but that would be all and then everything could go back to normal.
Except she still hadn’t walked through the door.
His eyes glanced over at the ticking grandfather clock that rested against the wall of the hallway, the clock itself ticking as its bells moved back and forth. He was sure that if he stared at it long enough, he would be hypnotized or at least numb, but Noir couldn’t fathom distractions right now.
He watched as another hour ticked by excruciatingly slow.
Where could Keirah have possibly gone? Noir had the news on in the other room at a volume where he could distinctly hear what was being reported. They reported about him constantly, and actually pointed out that his only known associate, Bombshell, had not been with him when he attacked Commissioner Jarrett. He would have been thrilled about such coverage, knowing he had interrupted regular television, and when the news shows actually came on, they were filled with him.
Except … it wasn’t the same now that Keirah was gone.
But where could she be? There was a fucking J carved into her cheek, for chrissake! Where could she possibly go that wouldn’t immediately point the finger at who she was, the cops would arrest her, and then he would have to go in and rescue her again. Even if she managed to elude the population, where could she stay? She left without money and didn’t grab her keys. She had to be on foot.
It was starting to upset him, and maybe he was even slightly worried, but as of yet, the newsroom had yet to report that Keirah was spotted or taken into custody. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t okay.
Though they were living in the outskirts of Onyx, secluded from the main part of the city, there were still crooks and killers that inhabited the surrounding areas, and she was an obvious and no doubt easy target for them. Since she had no form of transportation or a place to go, she might just be wandering around. He would have no idea where she was. And she had no means of protection either.
He hated the fact that he was worried about her. She had slapped him across the face. And he hadn’t even provoked her! Okay, so he attempted to kill someone she actually cared about. That didn’t constitute physical violence, did it?
This was all Commissioner Jarrett’s fault. If it wasn’t for him, Keirah would still be here, safe, with him. He walked over to the television, wondering just how the good commissioner was faring in his hospital bed.
“… just four hours ago,” a reporter informed the people who were currently watching her. She was standing outside Onyx General, and in the background, Noir could see a multitude of other rival reporters probably saying the same thing. “We have no word on any change in Jarrett’s condition. However, as we have stated before, he is in critical condition. If we get any updates, we’ll be the first to let you know …”
He still wasn’t dead?
How was this man still alive?
Noir took his tongue and pressed it against his teeth, making it squeak as his mind started to form yet another plan.
If Commissioner Bryan Jarrett was dead, Keirah would have no choice but to finally get over him. Jarrett was Keirah’s only connection to society—that family of hers didn’t count—and Noir needed to get rid of such a connection in order to ensure that Keirah would become his, fully and compl
etely. What if Noir and Jarrett were facing each other down and the only way to end such a fight was death? Would Keirah take a bullet for Noir, or would she push herself in front of Jarrett?
She would sacrifice herself for him, no doubt. But it wouldn’t be as automatic as it would be if it was anyone else threatening his life, and that’s what enraged him. Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry at Keirah. All of his anger was directed at the man who had refused to die, who had caused Keirah to feel tied to a society who had now shunned her.
He needed to die, and this time, Noir would ensure such a thing would happen.
Yes, Keirah would be upset with him, but she would come around. His eyes involuntarily flickered toward the front door, but nothing had changed. This only added fuel to the fire, his resolve hardening.
Commissioner Jarrett would die, and he would die tonight.
Noir had to park his van a couple of blocks away from the hospital due to the commotion currently surrounding the building. He didn’t mind walking though. He needed to clear his thoughts anyway, and by doing that, he kept his body active. He glanced at himself in the vanity mirror before leaving however, making sure that everything was in place. He was dressed as a police officer, with a fitted navy blue uniform with black, polished shoes, and, most importantly, a police officer’s hat one size too big so it would fall over his face and hide the majority of it. His hands were covered in white, pressed gloves and his red tinted hair was pulled up into the cap due to how recognizable it was. His makeup had been fully washed off so as to not add any suspicion on who he really was.
He stepped out of the car and began to walk down the street, twirling a nightstick that went with the uniform and whispering a jovial tune. Though his scars were prominent on his face, the night, along with the shadows that cascaded across his face, masked them quite well. Nobody would know who he really was; nobody would look at him twice. He was supposed to be there—at least, cops were. And all he wanted was to visit Jarrett in the hospital to make sure he was okay … Would they really refuse a fellow officer that right? He didn’t think so.
When he walked up to the entrance of the hospital, he was suddenly surrounded by reporters hoping to get some sort of story from him. He just grinned with delight and made a silent motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key, indicating that he couldn’t comment. The truth of the matter was, however, that Noir was aware at just how distinct his voice was, and if he attempted to speak, he might be found out and all of this would be for nothing.
He managed to slide past the hungry reporters wanting nothing more than a story, and saddled up to the entrance of the hospital. A couple of officers were guarding the entrance, but when Noir flashed them a badge, they waved him through. Another dark grin touched his face.
Everything was going according to plan.
Noir walked through the lobby, and though he didn’t know where Jarrett was placed, he knew that if he followed the trail of police officers, he would find what he was looking for. It took him fifteen minutes, but he finally landed on the third floor, a few doors down from one of the hospital’s more prominent suites with six—six—police officers guarding the doors.
How was he supposed to get through?
“Excuse me?” a deep voice bellowed from behind Noir. “May I see your badge and some identification?”
Noir froze. Suddenly, he saw the officers surrounding the door turn around and look at him.
“Sir?” the man asked once again, reaching out to grab Noir’s forearm. “No one is allowed back here without proper identification and a badge.” He glanced down at Noir’s badge on his jacket lapel. “A real one.” He looked up and beckoned a few of the officers toward him.
Noir knew he had been caught. He couldn’t struggle, couldn’t fight it. He had acted too quickly without fully laying out every single detail of his plan and made it into perfection.
It wasn’t long before he was being handcuffed and led downstairs into an awaiting police car.
Fuck.
“This just in!” a reporter exclaimed. Keirah glanced up from the leg she was currently bandaging to regard the small motel television set, hoping that the reporter was not about to announce Commissioner Jarrett’s death. “The man responsible for Commissioner Bryan Jarrett’s condition has just been arrested at Onyx General where the man known only as Noir has been captured. He was thought to be at the hospital in order to finish the job …”
Keirah’s heart stopped. She didn’t hear the reporter say that Jarrett was thought to survive the incident, didn’t hear anything, not even her own breathing. All of her anger at him suddenly dissipated in that moment.
She had to get him back.
Keirah had been sitting on the edge of the motel bed for the past three days, eating little, showering once, and making contact with absolutely no one. Her eyes were glued to the television screen for countless hours, hearing how Commissioner Bryan Jarrett would be making a recovery. But that wasn’t why she was watching mindless television, filtering the important things with the not-so-important things.
She needed to hear about him. Where he was, what he was doing, if he had escaped yet.
He would escape, wouldn’t he? He always did.
But … but something inside of Keirah said this was different, that Noir wouldn’t find escape as easy as he once would. Maybe it was because of the fight they had had recently. Keirah felt her heart break just thinking about it.
How had he gotten kidnapped anyway? Yes, Keirah had heard that Noir had gotten caught because he had entered a crowded hospital dressed as a police officer with a badge but no means of identification. Keirah ignored the fact that he was in the same hospital Jarrett was recuperating in, no doubt trying to finish the job he hadn’t completed. But the fact remained, Onyx’s own resident Prince of Crime had gotten caught because of some stupid mistake.
The thing was, Noir never made mistakes. In all the time Keirah had known him, he never made a mistake. Unless one counted being in love with Keirah as a mistake—that was why he had gotten caught the first time since the two had gotten together. But this time was just downright completely unlike Noir. He never made mistakes; it just didn’t happen.
Noir was known for pouring over countless details for numerous hours just to ensure that everything went according to plan. He would carry everything out by the exact minute—hell, the exact second. If something was off—if Noir’s gut was telling him something was wrong—he would call everything off, despite how much time, effort, and detail went into the planning. If it didn’t feel right, he wouldn’t risk it. At least not when it involved Keirah.
But what had caused Noir to forget something as necessary as a form of identification?
It was the fight, a voice inside of Keirah’s head said firmly. It had to be the fight.
Which would mean that in some way, Noir’s capture was Keirah’s fault. If he was distracted by her abrupt departure, that pertinent detail could have slipped his mind. Keirah knew that after leaving, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else so the first motel she saw, she paid for a room and didn’t leave. Her thoughts were clouding her logic; she couldn’t really eat, let alone carry out an assassination attempt.
So why would he do it? Even though Keirah was incredibly upset that Noir actually went to the hospital to finish taking Jarrett’s life, she idly wondered why he would do such a thing when he obviously didn’t have everything as planned out as he thought.
He’s angry, the same voice murmured. He’s jealous. Come on Keirah, think about it. Jarrett is the only person you went out of your way to defend, the only link to society you have. Andie and your mom, they probably hate you right now, and you can’t blame them for that. If he gets rid of Jarrett, he has you all to himself. You will be his completely and fully.
“But I already am,” Keirah murmured to herself, her eyes mindlessly fixated on the television though her brain wasn’t processing any of what it was saying, what it was showing.
He doesn�
��t think so, her mind taunted, and for a moment, remained silent. Then, out of the blue, it asked, So what’s the plan, Key? What are we going to do?
“Get him back,” she said, her voice just below a whisper. But she felt her resolve harden, and she said it again, “I’m going to get him back.”
But how?
She blinked once, focusing on the television once again, rather than her thoughts. She had no idea where he was right then, and even if she did, she didn’t exactly have any sort of plan on how to help him escape.
First thing’s first; find out where he was …
It took three more hours of flipping through the multiple news channels, but Keirah finally got her answer.
“… and now an update concerning the man responsible for Commissioner Jarrett’s stay in the hospital. He was arraigned at the temporary police station in downtown Onyx, and, as usual, the police have yet to identify Noir’s true identity, despite fingerprinting him and running him through multiple up-to-date state and federal criminal databases. He was held on lockdown at the station for the past three days, but as of right now, he is being transferred to Underwood Mental Institution. Many people are complaining, given the fact that he escaped while holding a female worker captive, but the representative for the Asylum has guaranteed …”
Catalyst: Book 2 of The Dark Paradise Trilogy Page 27