The sun beat down on him as his boots dug into the desert sand. He shouldered his weapon and aimed it at the man’s head.
The man shouted something in Arabic and Scott knew enough of the language to understand that it was something about her being an adulteress, which in his experience was most likely bullshit and an excuse for being able to execute his wife.
“Let her go.” Scott ordered the man to lower the knife at the woman’s throat. He couldn’t see her face, but her steel-blue eyes bore the full fear of the muffled screams that were coming from under her Birka.
“I’ll fucking kill you, motherfucker,” Scott swore to the man.
Blue eyes were rare in this part of the world. These were the most gorgeous eyes he’d ever seen. The knife pressed deeper into her neck, a trickle of blood flowed onto it. He took the shot, but it was too late. Her blood spilled out into the sand as her husband’s lifeless body fell to the dust.
She clutched her neck, but it did nothing to stop the liquid from pouring through her fingertips at an alarming rate. Scott ran to her and pulled off the Birka. Fuck rules at this point. He rolled her over, blonde waves spilling out from underneath, those gorgeous blue eyes staring back at him, lifeless. Tori’s eyes. Her body.
“Nooooooo!” He screamed in agony.
An arm grabbed his. Swiftly, he turned around and tackled his aggressor to the ground. He pushed his arm up to his neck and pressed in, cutting off his air supply. The man writhed underneath him.
“Please, baby, it’s me…” female words poured out of the man’s mouth.
He snapped open his eyes.
It took his brain about two seconds to realize that this was his bedroom and he’d pinned Tori down. Her unseeing eyes were wide with fear—much like the eyes from the dream, but this time it was him hurting her, not some stranger.
He jerked back as Tori placed her hand on her chest, coughing and gasping for air. “Oh, baby.” He went to stroke her cheek but she instinctively jerked away from him. That one swift movement was like a knife gutting him. “I’m sorry…I didn’t…I thought…” he could barely muster words as angry, regretful tears poured out of him.
Finally, after several agonizing moments she caught her air and her expression softened.
“It’s ok…” Her arms wrapped around his torso and she pulled him in. “It’s not real. Whatever it was, it isn’t real. I know you didn’t mean to.”
His heart shattered. All the pain he’d endured in his life paled compared to how he felt in that moment. He collapsed into her embrace and sobbed, muttering useless apologies. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He could barely get the words out between the sobs. “He killed you…I thought…” he couldn’t say what was swimming in his skull.
She lay there for the next several minutes calming him; when he should be the one calming her. She had every right to be terrified of him and should be after what he just did.
Without a word, he leaned over the bed and slipped on his rubber liner over his compression sock. He pulled up onto his crutches and went to the closet. He grabbed his blade, leaned up against the wall and stuck it on.
“You didn’t hurt me, baby, just startled me,” she assured.
It didn’t matter. The look of terror on her face would haunt him forever. He’d never forgive himself. How could she? He dressed in jogging shorts and a snug tee before slipping his running shoe on his right foot.
“Babe, where are you going?” She ran her fingers through her tousled locks. “Please, say something.”
His silence was probably scaring her more than what just transpired. “Going for a run to clear my head. I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
She never slept. She knew without a doubt that man would never lay a hand on her intentionally. Scott was a hero through and through. That’s why this had to be killing him. She knew damn well that Scott would never let go of what happened. He wasn’t the type of man that forgave himself easily for mistakes.
She knew his heart. She loved him, flaws and all. He was the most honorable man she knew. She still felt unworthy of his love. She was ready to marry him, but now, after this, she feared he’d never ask.
She lay there listening to nothing but her own breath as the clock ticked by. Finally, after an hour, the apartment door gently shut. She waited for him to come in the bedroom, but he kept his distance.
At last, she heard the haunting melody as he strummed his guitar in the other room. His voice rang out across the apartment as he sang; calling to her with the music in his soul, using the lyrics to speak the words he couldn’t.
She stood in the doorway and listened as he poured it out.
Scott never talked much to Tori about his deployments, his injury and the things he’d gone through. He was never one to complain about the sacrifices he’d made. Even after his injury, when he spiraled out of control for a while—he never talked about it with Tori.
She was ok with that. She understood the inability to talk about the things that wounded so deeply.
Scott stopped strumming the tune.
“That was beautiful,” Tori’s voice echoed across the room. He turned to her. God, she was so gorgeous standing there in nothing but a t-shirt and panties, leaning against the door frame.
Scott didn’t say anything in response for several moments. He leaned the guitar up against the sofa. “Tori…”
Tori held her hand up. “Stop. You don’t have to explain, Scott. It’s ok, I’ve told you that already.” She inched closer to him.
“It’s not ok. It’s so fucking far from ok. I could’ve…” he choked on his words
I could’ve killed her.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I could’ve really hurt you,” he said, still hating himself. She couldn’t see his eyes welling up with tears, and he fought hard to hold them back. He dug his palms into them to keep from coming undone.
“But you didn’t.” Tori sat on the sofa and reached for him, pulling him toward her. “Come here.” She placed a pillow on her lap and patted it.
He did as bid, laying his head down on her lap stretching out across the sofa. She ran her fingers through his hair. “What you did just now wasn’t much worse than pitting me against Blaze in the wrestling room.” Tori chuckled.
“This was so not the same.” He grunted. “I’m supposed to protect you. I never want to hurt you. Maybe you shouldn’t try and wake me, or touch me, just let me be,” Scott’s analytical mind went for a solution to the problem.
“You think you can control everything, Scott. We’ve been through this. You can’t—”
“Says the control freak herself,” Scott groaned.
“Scott,” she sighed, “this was bound to come out with us living together. It was inevitable.”
“You sound like my dad.” Scott chuckled. That mess of shit you keep locked in your closet will come tumbling out. His dad’s words echoed in his head.
“He’s a wise man,” Tori said in acknowledgment.
“Listen, babe.” Scott rested his wrist on his forehead. “The shit that I’ve seen,” he let out a deep breath. He didn’t want to tell her all that—how he’d seen humanity at its worst. His nightmares didn’t bother him. Hell, he’d had nightmares and vivid dreams ever since he was a kid. He was used to them. He’d always slept deep and startled easily. It was his stupid, natural reflexes that took over. He was trained to act quick. “I have a mess in my head. I leave it there because it’s my demon to deal with, not yours. It’s going to come spewing out from time to time. The mess doesn’t scare me anymore.” It hadn’t for years, until his fears of losing Tori brought it all bubbling to the surface. “What scares me is my shit is now hurting you.”
“As if my mess never affects you,” Tori pointed out. “Scott, I have things buried deep that will also spew out—”
Yes, Tori had lost much that she rarely spoke of. He didn’t want to trivialize her pain, but she couldn’t begin to imagine the horrors he’d seen, and he didn’
t want her to.
“Mine’s different,” he cut her off, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I willingly sacrificed parts of myself,” he looked down at the blade of the prosthetic resting on the rug. “My brothers sacrificed their lives.” He folded his hands eyeing his right forearm covered in roses with their names scrawled between. “We did that so you don’t have to deal with the shit we did. Now I’m forcing you to. I don’t like that.”
Tori crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m so damn proud of the man you are and all you’ve sacrificed, but now that we’re together you’re gonna have to be ok with me seeing the mess.” Tori rubbed his shoulder lovingly. “Or in my case, tripping over the mess.” Tori chuckled and squeezed his arm. “Here’s the deal, just like all the other messes you leave out, when I trip over it, we’ll deal and move on.”
“Damn, that’s an amazing analogy, Babe.” Scott said with a laugh as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes before resting his arms on the top of his head. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I won’t ever try to clean up your mess—I have a hard-enough time trying to deal with my own.” A solemn frown settled on her face. For a moment she looked terrified, more fearful than he’d ever seen her before. More scared than when he’d pinned her down. “There are things I need to tell you…” Her eyes welled up with tears and she choked on her words.
He took her trembling hands into his and a tear rolled down her cheek. The phone vibrated across the coffee table. He glanced over at it. “I’m sorry, baby, it’s Tiffani, the realtor.” If it was anyone else, he’d send it straight to voicemail.
She wiped a stray tear and forced a smile across her face. “It can wait.” He sucked in a breath and grabbed the phone.
Scott dropped the box on the kitchen floor with a thud and glanced around at all the work to be done. A month had passed, they’d got the house and moving day was upon them. He loathed moving, he’d done it far too much in his life. Hopefully this was the last move for a long time.
“You know we’re paying the movers to do that,” Tori pointed out as she weaved her way through the sea of boxes. “That’s why we hire help.”
“How do you know I’m not one of the movers?” Scott feigned a thick Greek accent as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.
“If you’re one of the movers my hunky boyfriend is about to come in here and kick your ass for feeling me up.” Tori slapped him playfully.
Scott was exhausted of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. It seemed so high school when they were moving in together, but he feared pushing too many changes on her at once.
“You know I can’t sit around and not at least help some, plus it cuts down on their hourly rate.”
“Is that why you suckered me into this? To save money?” Presley said coming back into the room, placing her box on the floor with a thud. “How is it that I’m the only one here out of all your damn friends?”
“Oh, you know how it is. You mention moving day and everyone goes into hiding. You’re the only one who was dumb enough not to come up with an excuse,” Tori teased.
“Yeah, I tried to lie my way out, but Scott somehow saw right through me.” She scratched her temple and fiddled with her backwards, baseball hat.
“Damn right, I did.” He laughed. “You have a tell when you’re lying.”
Presley seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Wait, is that why I always lose when we play poker?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Scott. “You can read me?”
Scott grabbed a beer out of the fridge, twisted the cap off and took a long, refreshing chug.
“Tori, wasn’t your sister supposed to show?” Presley asked.
“She’s supposedly coming later when the movers finish up and we unpack.”
“Anyhow, I don’t know where to put this one.” Presley pointed to the box at her feet.
“It should be labeled.” Tori furrowed her brow.
“Oh, it’s labeled all right,” Presley said, “in braille.”
Tori laughed. “Oh. I must have packed that one when Scott was at work.” They had come up with a dual labeling system where she’d pack and label the contents in braille and he would write on it with marker, that way the movers would know where to put it and either one of them could unpack but he had a feeling he didn’t catch them all. “Bring it here.”
Presley brought the box over to Tori, who ran her fingers across the box looking for the label.
“I’m surprised you don't know braille, Miss master-of-decoding-messages.” Tori smirked. “Isn’t it your job to know all languages and code?”
Scott laughed. “So, I guess that means I’m smarter than you, then?” he teased.
“I guess being around you, I’m’ gonna have to learn it and add it to my resume. I can’t have Harris winning now.”
“Good luck. I’m still kinda sucky with it, and don’t let him fool you, he doesn’t know it that well yet.”
“My fingers are too big,” Scott said as he took a drink from the beer.
“Yeah, they are,” Tori growled and grinned, finally finding the label and running her fingers across it. “Master bath.” Tori slapped the top of the box.
“Got it, and ew, gross.” Presley took it upstairs.
The movers finished up, then the three of them ordered some Chinese delivery and ended up eating on the bare floor.
“So, between the two of you, neither of you had a kitchen table?” Presley said grabbing some noodles with her chop sticks and stuffing them in her mouth. She sat cross-legged with her food on a moving box.
“We had one.” Scott shot Tori a glare. “She didn’t like mine. Apparently, it didn’t match with how she wanted to decorate the place.”
“It’s all wrong for this place. It’s square and high top, and we need something rectangular for the size of that area,” Tori protested. “Plus, it gives us an excuse to go shopping.”
Scott groaned. “You say that as if it will be tons of fun for me to go furniture shopping with your picky ass.” It was a painful process shopping with Tori. He had to verbally describe every detail to her, while she took recorded notes at each store so she could remember the details. Usually, she ended up picking the first one he saw, which made Scott’s head explode. “Shopping for that damn bedroom set about killed me.”
“It’s not like you’re sleeping in the bed anyway,” Tori mumbled under her breath.
Scott sucked in a deep breath. He really didn’t want to get into this in front of Presley. Ever since the nightmare where he pinned her down, he’d curl up next to Tori until she fell asleep then retreat to the sofa. He still didn’t trust himself. He promised her the fairy tale, and until the nightmares stopped, he was no damn prince worthy of her affection. That morning when they went to close on the house Tori refused to sign the paperwork unless he promised to sleep in the bed that night.
Typical Tori—wait until the very moment she had him by the balls, then go in for the kill. So tonight, he’d be busting out the sleeping pills he despised taking to ensure he’d be in a sleep coma.
They inhaled their food and got back to work. Presley went outside for a smoke and Scott and Tori headed upstairs to start with the bedroom.
“Jane calling, Jane calling,” Tori’s phone blared.
“One sec,” she mouthed before answering. She stayed in the hall while Scott went in the room.
A minute later, Tori came into the bedroom with a frown on her face. “Jane’s not coming.” Tori stood in the doorway and tucked her phone in her back pocket. “Apparently, Darren had to work late again and unless we want the kids running all over the place she’s gonna have to wait till tomorrow.”
As much as he enjoyed Jane’s kids, Tori was stressed out enough trying to find her way around the mess of boxes. They didn’t need to add more chaos to it.
“Yeah, I don’t think the kids running around underfoot would be a good idea.” Scott cringed as he watched Tori bump into a box and nearly
topple over.
“Dammit!” Tori cursed.
Presley came into the bedroom “Brought us more beers. What’s up?” Presley asked, placing the beer in Tori’s hand.
“Oh, just smacking into boxes and shit. God, what is in that box? Bricks?” Tori leaned down and rubbed her shin with her other hand. “My sister isn’t going to make it.” Tori drank deeply from the beer.
Presley shrugged. “No biggie. I can help.” She glanced around the room. “Where to start….” she trailed off, reading the boxes. “Dude you should’ve been a doctor. I can make out your writing about as good as I can her braille labels.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Scott bent over and sliced a box open labeled as his clothing.
“Oh!” Presley exclaimed. “This sounds fun. Scott’s personal stuff.” She yanked out a pocket knife and squatted down.
Scott shook his head as he pulled out some of his shirts.
“Oooh. Yearbooks. This could be interesting.” Presley flopped down on the floor, cross-legged, and thumbed through the book to the back. “Harris….let’s see….page one hundred forty-three.” She laughed. “Oh wow. Look at that little fuzz you were trying to grow on top of your lip and chin. That’s so sad and adorable.”
Scott yanked the yearbook out of Presley’s hand. “This was supposed to go to my office downstairs.” He dropped it back into the box, trying to pick it up, but Presley blocked him and continued to dig through.
Scott grunted and walked away—Pres can have her fun snooping. She opened a shoe box and dug through some photos.
“Woah, wait, what do we have here?” Presley pulled out a framed picture. “Holy shit! It’s a… a naked Scott.”
“What?” Tori stopped and turned—feeling her way around the sea of boxes. “What do you mean naked Scott?” Tori’s cheeks reddened.
Scott grinned. He was enjoying the little jealous streak in her.
Smoke and Mirrors: (Fire and Fury Book Two) Page 30