by Beth Flynn
Hobie recognized the terror behind her eyes as she tried to come to terms with what she’d just witnessed. “You said earlier you never hated a man as much as you hated Grizz.”
She could only nod her head.
He blew out a long tired breath before telling her, “That’s only because you hadn’t met Brooks yet.”
His last statement was met with a bloodcurdling scream as Brooks slowly coasted out of the parking lot, but not before tossing his lit cigarette on a gas-soaked Davey.
Chapter 12
Lucy had to make a conscious effort to stop her hands from shaking as she navigated the busy morning traffic. It was just after nine, and frenzied drivers who were already late for their day jobs were whizzing past and zipping in and out of lanes.
When one of her favorite songs came on the radio, she turned up the volume and tapped out the numbers that had been tattooed on her brain so many years ago. “Nine, nine, six, four, three, one, two,” she whispered as she kept time with Foreigner’s “Feels Like the First Time.”
She felt the calmness she expected settle over her as she mulled over what had just transpired. Up until five minutes ago, she’d convinced herself she’d evicted Jonas Brooks from her mind once and for all. Coming face-to-face with him blew that theory out of the water. She grimaced in self-disgust when she relived what one look from him did to her insides. She knew from what she’d recently learned that a friendship with Brooks—not to mention the romantic relationship she’d fantasized about—was a total impossibility. And she could only assume that Marty, the abrasive woman from the bait store, hadn’t run her off for Jonas’ sake but for Lucy’s. Pretending not to know the mountainous biker, Marty had still managed to issue a warning. And after the shocking discovery from the business she’d visited immediately after purchasing her cruise ticket, Lucy now understood why.
She flicked on her blinker before slowing down and turning into the parking lot of an old and very dated Walgreens. She needed to pick up a few toiletries for her cruise, and the drugstore could always be counted on to keep a generous stock of her favorites.
She felt him before she heard him. With the windows rolled up, the air-conditioning blasting and her radio blaring, the vibration from his loud motorcycle pipes shook her tiny car as he glided into the empty spot next to her.
“Nine, nine, six, four…” There were one hundred and ninety numbers that made up her memory game, not including dashes, colons, and other characters. She refused to look over at him as she continued to count while gathering her purse and keys. A loud rap on her window startled her and she had no choice but to give him her attention. She motioned for him to step back so she could get out of the car.
She was worried that she would appear clumsy but managed to remove herself with the grace of a ballerina. She locked her door, slammed it behind her, hauled her heavy purse up on her shoulder, and turned to look at Jonas Brooks. He took a step closer, and she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. They weren’t the concerned yet authoritative eyes of the man she’d met in the restaurant corridor. Nor were they the irritated eyes of the person who asked about her cruise. The dark eyes she was staring into were angry and caused her to step back cautiously. Not from fear, but because someone his size needed space. For reasons that were inexplicable to even her, she didn’t believe she should be afraid of Jonas Brooks.
“Are you afraid of me? Is that why you took off?”
She paused, giving serious thought to her answer. Shaking her head slightly, she had to admit, “No. I’m not afraid of you.” She squinted as she continued to consider the question. “At least I don’t think I am.”
His brows puckered as if confused. He tilted his head slightly. “Did you take off because you were scared of my friends?”
“Truthfully? No. I wasn’t scared of your friends either. I probably would’ve been if you hadn’t been there. But you were, so it was a non-issue.”
A lightness settled in his chest at her admission. She feels safe around me. Good. “Then why the rush to leave?” he asked as he moved slightly closer.
Her lungs filled up with a healthy dose of the air surrounding his huge frame, and her brain immediately dissected the different scents. He smelled like sweat, tobacco, gasoline, and soap. Easily discernable and nothing remotely alluring as separate aromas. But combined, they emitted a pheromone that made her insides tingle.
Feigning indifference, Lucy adjusted her heavy purse and said, “I told you I have to run errands for my trip, and I didn’t think there was anything left to say.”
He didn’t believe her and told her so. She didn’t respond, so he launched into an explanation about Marty’s actions based on what Lewis had told him. She stood in front of him, wordless. And beautiful. He remembered the softness of her cheek when he’d caressed it with the back of his hand at the restaurant. Her skin had felt like silk.
“What’s changed since the restaurant, Lucy? You were different then.”
His voice was so deep it reminded her of the rumbling bike pipes that reverberated off the pavement. A couple of beats passed as she looked around. She noticed a store clerk leaning up against a far wall. She was probably waiting for a ride. An elderly couple was getting out of their car about three spots over. A delivery truck was pulling out from behind the store; its loud motor competed with the traffic noise that echoed off the asphalt. She looked back up at Jonas, trying to read his expression. He seemed angry, but it was betrayed by his dark eyes. She thought she detected a softness, almost an expectation in the depth of their blackness. Her eyes slowly drifted to the tattoos that were the icing to the awful cake Marty had served up just days earlier.
“Your tears, Jonas. Your tears are what changed.” Her voice was thick with disappointment.
He managed a throaty chuckle that didn’t include a smile. “Lucy, it can’t be that. I don’t cry.”
“Not real tears,” she sadly replied. “The four tears that are tattooed on your face.” She reached up and used her fingertips to trace the four teardrops just below the corner of his right eye. They swirled downward, all four giving the appearance of the letter C. He’d touched her cheek at the restaurant, but she’d never touched him. Lucy didn’t expect to feel anything. Her fingertips brushed tanned skin hardened by the scorching Florida sun. The connection was barely a whisper in a stadium of screaming fans. But to Lucy, it was tantamount to a house shaken off its foundation by an earthquake. Because touching Jonas Brooks was something she’d only fantasized about. And now she knew what it felt like in the simplest of forms.
He took a step back, shocked at her admission. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, “How do you know the significance of the teardrops? How do you know what they mean?”
Her eyes focused on his lips because she dared not meet his eyes. “After I bought my cruise ticket, I dropped into a tattoo parlor that was next to the travel agency. I asked the tattoo artist if they held any significance. He told me they could have a few different meanings.” She chewed the inside of her cheek and looked away. Staring at a hedge in desperate need of rain, she told him, “Sometimes it indicates a long prison stay. I think you may be too young to have done any hard time. If it’s just an outline, it can symbolize an attempted murder. And if it’s filled in, like yours are, it can signify the person has committed a murder.” She gulped and looked back at him. “Or four. Am I right, Jonas? Have you murdered four people?”
He felt the fury rising. Visions of a faceless tattoo artist taking away his chance with Lucy were clouding his eyesight. He’d never expected to have to explain his ink this early. He’d stupidly imagined they might get to know each other a little better before he told her the truth about himself. He almost scoffed out loud. Are you seriously blaming the tattoo artist for this predicament? And get to know her better? How? Take her to the camp and introduce her to more of your crew? You’re an asshole. Your initial instinct not to follow her was right. Get on your fucking bike and ride out of this woman’s life. Now!” came the t
aunting screams from inside his skull.
A moment passed, allowing him time to mentally prepare himself to tell her the truth, when she quietly offered, “I met someone once. It was a long time ago. Lenny cut himself and needed stitches. They let my mother go back with him, but I had to stay in the waiting room.” She wasn’t looking at Jonas. She was gazing off into the distance, reliving a memory from years earlier. “The emergency room was packed that day. There was a serious accident involving several victims, and I’m pretty sure every member of their families was in that waiting room. A guy came in and he was in so much pain he couldn’t concentrate on filling out his paperwork.” She looked back up at Jonas.
She’s not even betraying my shame from that day, he marveled. She could be telling me about the lame-ass dude who couldn’t read or write. But she’s not. She’s defending a stranger’s secret from six fucking years ago.
“He had a teardrop too,” she continued, interrupting his thoughts. “I knew it must’ve meant something, but I didn’t know what. Ridiculously naïve me thought it meant he was sad. I wondered what could’ve made him so sad that he had to mark his face permanently with a reminder of it. When I met you, Jonas, the tears were the first things I noticed. And I thought the same thing. But you seemed so strong and sure of yourself at the restaurant. I was thinking just what you said earlier: This man doesn’t cry. So what could the teardrops mean? Am I right, Jonas? Did you murder four people?”
He shook his head. “No, Lucy. I didn’t murder four people.”
Her eyes widened in surprise and relief. He noticed tiny beads of sweat forming on her face, causing her glasses to slip down her nose. He pushed them up for her and she smiled. But it was fleeting.
His eyes hardened. “I don’t have enough room on my face for all the people I’ve put in the ground.”
Chapter 13
Lucy couldn’t hide the slight tremble of her lip or the sheen of tears coating her magnified eyes behind the thick glasses. “You’re a murderer?” she whispered, not expecting, not wanting him to confirm more than he already had. She was going to school with the dream that she would one day be able to cure diseases that robbed people of their lives. Her goal was to prevent death. Jonas Brooks was the antithesis of everything she believed in. Her eyes slid down to his right bicep where the image of a grim reaper taunted her. A mirthless laugh almost escaped her throat. Her shoulders must’ve slumped because before she could stop it, her heavy purse slid off her arm and landed with a thump on the hot pavement. Just like at the restaurant, the contents spilled out. An aspirin bottle rolled toward Jonas and bounced off his heavy boot.
He held up a hand and said, “I’ll pick it up for you.”
She didn’t have the energy to argue, so she let him. She turned around slowly, and with her back to him, gazed out over the parking spaces on the other side of her car. She could hear the buzz of an insect. It was almost drowned out by the sound of sirens in the distance. She watched a car pull into a spot next to hers and couldn’t help but grin at the huge Doberman that appeared to be smiling at her from the backseat. A middle-aged man jumped out and slammed the car door shut. It took Lucy seconds to realize he hadn’t rolled down a window or left the car running so the dog could be in the air-conditioning. She figured he must’ve forgotten.
“Oh, sir! Excuse me, sir?”
The man turned to face her. A look of annoyance on his reddened face. “Yeah?”
“You forgot to roll down a window for your dog. She looks so sweet. What’s her name?”
The guy laughed. “His name is ‘Mind your own fucking business.’” He paused for effect. “Freaky-looking bug-eyed bitch!”
She couldn’t believe it. She’d been on the receiving end of bullies and mean girl taunts since the sixth grade. But the nastiness hadn’t followed her to college. She could honestly say that up until last week’s confrontation with Artie Shaw at the restaurant, she’d been left alone.Jonas had just returned the last of the items that spilled from Lucy’s purse when he heard the man’s comment. Leaving her bag on the ground, he took his time standing up. Very slowly, he allowed himself to rise behind Lucy. His eyes immediately fixated on the individual giving Lucy a hard time from the other side of her car. Jonas clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He watched the man’s face instantly transform from that of nasty prick to cowering mangy mutt.
Sensing that Jonas had made himself known from behind her and not wanting him to think she couldn’t stand up for herself, Lucy raised her chin and started to say, “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think—”
But the man didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. “I was only going in for a couple things. I didn’t…didn’t plan on leaving him for more than a few minutes,” the guy stammered as his worried eyes ping-ponged between his car and Jonas.
“How about I remove your dog from the car and stick you in there for a few minutes?”
“Don’t, Jonas,” Lucy whispered over her shoulder. “I can handle this.”
Ignoring her, Jonas asked, “What’s that in your hand? Looks like a list to me and I can’t see what’s on it, but it looks like a long sheet of paper.”
The man stared at his hand as if he’d never seen it before. His fist was tightly clutching a business-sized envelope where he’d hastily scribbled down everything he needed from Walgreens. “Just a few things,” came his shaky reply.
“How many is a few?” Jonas insisted as he skirted around the front of Lucy’s car and grabbed the paper out of the man’s hand before he could answer. He couldn’t read what was on it, but he could count. He totaled the items and said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m gonna start up my girlfriend’s car and blast the air-conditioning. And you’re going to put your dog in it. Then I’m going to send her into the store with your list and some cash from your wallet. You’re going to give me your keys, and I’m going to put you in your car and let you sit in there for the entire time it takes for her to buy all sixteen items on your list.” Jonas paused and looked up at the sky. He guessed it to be somewhere between nine thirty and ten o’clock, and the South Florida sun was shining bright, the heat already brutal and sweltering. “You should be thanking me for not making you put on a fur coat first,” Jonas informed him.
The man started to visibly quake and took a step back.
Lucy ran around the front of her car and halted in front of the two men. “Can we please just stop this?” She looked hard at the stranger. “Get back in your car, sir, and turn on your air-conditioner or roll down the windows. And please don’t ever leave your dog like that again. He’s probably already roasting in the short time we’ve had this conversation.” She looked back at the man’s car, a worried crease on her brow.
The man cast a wary glance at Jonas. The silent request for permission was evident in his expression.
Jonas reached out and grabbed him by the upper arm, pulling him near and hauling him up so that the man was on his toes. He put his mouth close to his reddened ear, and in a low whisper, said, “You’ll get in your car and do what she says. Then you’ll drive away. But I’m going to take note of your license plate and I’m going to find you. And I’m going to do what I said because nobody, nobody talks to my woman like you did.” He roughly shoved the man away and watched as he fumbled for his keys, started up his car, and drove away.
“What did you say to him?” she demanded with her hands on her hips.
She was so damn adorable he had to clamp his jaw tight to avoid the smile he knew would look ridiculous.
Ignoring her question, he walked back to the driver’s side of her car and picked up her purse. She quickly followed, and handing it to her, Jonas asked, “When are you leaving for your trip?”
She retrieved her handbag without meeting his eyes and answered, “Thank you. And day after tomorrow.”
“What are you doing for the next couple of hours?”
This time she did look at him. “I’m not sure why that’s important, but finishing my er
rands.”
“When you’re finished, have lunch with me.”
She scrunched her nose and with a slight tilt to her head, asked, “Why? And is that a request or a demand?”
He didn’t answer her at first. He slowly gazed out over the expanse of the parking lot before returning his attention to her. “Because we both have to eat. And because I’d like to talk a little more before you leave for a whole month.” He paused before adding, “And maybe having lunch with me would be a nice way to thank me for coming to your rescue at the restaurant last week.”
She tried not to bristle at his last comment. “I’m pretty sure I already thanked you for that. And I didn’t need rescuing. I could’ve handled Artie on my own. He just caught me off guard is all.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes and looked at the ground, focusing hard on a green shoot of grass trying to fight its way up through a crack in the pavement. Yes, she could’ve handled Artie. She didn’t survive high school by slinking away every time someone tossed their nasty at her. But she’d be lying if she couldn’t admit how much she reveled in having a champion. Even if it was for a brief moment.
“I believe you, Lucy. It wouldn’t have taken much to put him in his place.” He used his thumb and forefinger to gently lift her face so their eyes met. “Have lunch with me. You pick the place and the time.”
“Only if you answer one more question,” she told him with a half-smile. “Two, actually.”
He nodded. “Only if the answers won’t affect you having lunch with me.”
“They won’t,” she assured him.
He nodded. “Then shoot.”
“Did you follow me here?”
“Absolutely. I noticed which way you turned when you pulled out of the gas station. And the color of your car is hard to miss.” He watched her look away shyly but not before he saw a sparkle in her eyes. She was glad he’d followed her. “What’s your other question?”