by Amy Murray
“So how’d you end up a mall cop?”
He shook his head and dropped the curtain. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I told you, my job is important and quite dangerous. I’m no mall cop.”
“You said dangerous, but not important.”
A huff of a laugh escaped his lips before he took the far edge of the sofa. “I was recruited, actually. Four years before that, I was in the Army.”
“So, you’re what? Twenty-seven?”
“Close, twenty-six.”
Mack smiled just as Gracie and Xander came barreling through the door. They were soaked.
“Abby?” Gracie called into the darkness. She tried the switch on the wall and turned toward the living room.
“In here,” I said.
“There was a massive wreck blocking our exit, so rather than go to the movie, we decided to rent. But listen, Xander talked to—”
She came into the room, but stopped short when she saw Mack, her head tilting to the side in a question.
“Gracie, have you met Mack? He’s the one that moved into—”
“Darren’s place. Sure.” She gave him a small wave before turning back to me. “I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”
“Oh no. It’s not like that,” Mack said.
“I had a flat, then the power went out—” I stopped, seeing Gracie rub her lips together and frown. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Just then, James walked through the door. He stood stock still in the entry, dripping wet, while a pool of water formed at his feet.
My chest constricted, and suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in the room to breathe.
Chapter Four
He was here.
With one look from him, my throat ran dry and my body stilled under the weight of his piercing gaze. My first instinct was to run toward him, to feel that he was whole—that he was alive—but instead, I curled my fingers into the cushion and held my ground. James’s gaze flicked to Mack before drifting over the candle and the wine bottle Gracie and I had shared earlier that evening. His back straightened, and he returned his focus to me.
A strike of lightning lit the apartment and thunder rolled through. The room was silent with tension, and it wasn’t until Mack sighed and brushed his hands against his pants that I was able to look away.
“It was nice meeting you, Gracie.” He turned to me while the room and all its inhabitants hung suspended, the air heavy. His lips parted, his hand lifted, but whatever he planned to say died before he could speak. He dropped his hand with a sigh. “Take care, all right? I’ll stop by tomorrow, make sure you’re okay.”
“Make sure you’re okay?” Gracie asked taking a step toward me. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
I ignored her and stood, giving Mack an awkward wave and an uncomfortable smile. “See you later.”
On his way out, he nodded to Xander but slipped past James without a glance, even though their shoulders came within an inch of touching. When he was gone, James looked down at the puddle surrounding his shoes.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked him, my voice a breath.
From my peripheral vision, I saw Gracie slap Xander on the arm. She mouthed something to him, but I didn’t catch what it was.
James’s chest rose and fell, steady and strong, while his eyes focused on me as if we were the only two people in the room. “I needed to see you.”
The words were said without apology, and they hit me in a way that tightened the space between my ribs. I wanted to physically shake with it, to close my eyes and let it consume me, but I couldn’t. I was frozen.
“I didn’t realize you’d… I’ll get going,” James said. He left silently, and when the door closed, I could do nothing but stare at it.
“How’d he know I’d be here?” I asked Gracie, my body and mind adrift and reeling.
“Ask Xander,” Gracie growled.
He raised his hands in apology. “I didn’t know it’d be a problem. Abby, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay,” I said before I ran outside. The rain was cold and battered against me like stinging needles. James was already across the lot, his back hunched against the weather.
“James,” I called through the pounding rain, but my words were lost in the storm. I jogged to catch up and called his name again. This time, he stopped. His hair was plastered to the top of his head while drops of water dripped from his lashes.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I approached.
Being seen with Mack, even though it was completely innocent, made me uncomfortable. I didn’t owe James an explanation for why he was there, but for some inexplicable reason, I felt like he needed one.
“For what?” he asked.
“When you came up…” I paused. “It’s not what it looked like.”
James wiped his hand along his brow and pushed his hair away from his eyes. Hurt lingered in his expression, and my heart stung.
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” he said. “Like you said, we barely know each other. I should’ve listened.” He turned and unlocked his truck with a click of a button.
He was leaving, and a knife-like pain sliced at my chest, tearing a ragged path down to my stomach.
“Don’t go,” I said as his hand grazed the door handle. “Let me explain.”
James glanced toward my apartment before turning to me.
“Explain what?” His body shrugged with indifference, but his eyes told a different story.
I rounded the truck to stand in front of him. “I had a flat and he helped me. Mack and I—we’re not together.”
“Does he know that?” There was an edge to his voice.
“Why’re you mad at me?”
His chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath. “I’m not mad at you. I just—I’m mad at me. I came here thinking… I don’t know what I was thinking.” His hands lifted before he dropped them to his sides. There was a prolonged moment where nothing, yet everything, was said. He shook his head and stepped toward me. “You haunt me.”
My thoughts scattered like marbles on a tile floor.
“And I can’t get you out of my head. We both know something’s going on here—something outside of normal—and I know you want space to figure that out. But that guy?” He pointed in the general direction of my apartment. “I don’t know. Something’s not right with him.”
My spine straightened. “Why would you say that?”
“Call it instinct.”
“You don’t know him.”
His head tilted. “Do you?”
My jaw dropped, and my brain couldn’t work fast enough to understand how the conversation had turned. James put his hands on either side of my face, and fire lit my skin ablaze. A thousand feelings pulsed inside my veins when he leaned close.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. If you want me to stay away, I’ll try. But I know you feel everything I’m feeling, and believe me, it scares me, too.” His gaze searched mine while the nameless emotions swelled inside of me, filling me until my bones threatened to break.
His thumbs stroked my cheeks, and my breath caught in my throat. I placed my hands against his chest, meaning to keep the distance between us. But the moment my fingers touched his shirt, and the heat from his skin penetrated mine, I couldn’t help but ball them into fists and gather the fabric to pull him closer. His arms wrapped around me and engulfed my body in a heat that was too warm for the freezing temperature.
He let out a long breath, and a groan vibrated within his chest. I didn’t speak. I honestly tried to get something—anything—out, but my throat closed. Never before had I wanted to melt with someone as much as I wanted to with James. But that feeling didn’t last. Too soon, I was thrust into a vision long enough to see his face beaten black and blue and to see my hands dripping in blood—his blood.
I pulled away, and his arms fell against his sides. “Don’t,” he said, defeated. “Don’t do this.”
I took another st
ep back and shook my head. “You’re right. I feel it, too.” Something akin to relief flashed in his eyes. “But something’s not right with me. When I’m with you—”
His eyes softened as he took a step toward me. “I understand that feeling.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” I shivered and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Reed Street. Tomorrow night.” He was insistent. “It’ll just take a few minutes, and I promise—I’ll prove to you—I understand.”
He slid into his truck and turned on the ignition. I could do nothing except watch him leave, and I stood there with exhausted emotions as his taillights disappeared into the rain. Walking back toward my apartment, I glanced up in time to see Mack’s curtain close.
The rain stopped sometime during the night, and the cold front that’d blown through froze the entire city. The roadways were nearly impassable, and newscasters warned everyone to stay home, while covering every major vehicular accident in the metro area.
A heavy knock sounded at the door, and since no one in their right mind would be out driving in this, that left only one person. When I opened the door, Mack was bouncing on his toes, his arms crossed over his chest.
“This’s crazy weather, right?” he said when he saw me.
I nodded and looked down the hall to see small icicles hanging from the eaves. “Yeah, that was some storm.”
An uncomfortable silence landed between us. On one hand, here was the guy I was beginning to think of as a friend. On the other was James and his assumption that Mack was something else and wanted something more.
Gracie was stirring in her bedroom, and it would be a matter of minutes before she came out. I grabbed my jacket and moved into the hall. Mack stepped back and waves of tension rolled off his shoulders.
“Listen,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble last night. Was that your…” His words trailed away, but I knew what he was asking. And if he was asking, then James was right. I wanted to bang my head into the wall.
“You didn’t, and don’t worry about it.”
He looked expectant, like he was waiting for me to continue. When I didn’t, he glanced at the parking lot and rubbed his hands together. “Since it seems like we’re iced in for the foreseeable future, I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me. Here.” He nodded at his apartment. “Tonight?”
My face fell. “I, um…”
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But I promise, my cooking’s edible. You won’t be hospitalized long.” His lips split into a grin.
I smiled despite myself. “As enticing as that sounds, I’ll have to take a rain check. I actually have plans.”
Mack’s smile faltered. “Yeah, sure. Definitely.” He stepped back toward his door, and the remaining bits of his smile faded. “Next time. And, um, be careful tonight.”
I put my hand on the doorknob. “I will. Thanks.”
I pushed the door open, and Gracie yelped from the other side. I paused and peeked around the door. She was standing on the other side holding her nose.
“Were you watching through the peephole?” I asked as I stepped inside and closed the door.
She shook her head and then nodded. “I think you broke my nose.” Her voice was muffled under her hand.
“Serves you right,” I said as I shook myself out of my coat. “Are you okay?”
She dropped her hand and wrinkled her nose back and forth. She wiped her watering eyes and took a deep breath. “Is it crooked?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “I think you’ll live.”
Gracie flopped down on the couch, and I walked to the fridge with her eyes on my back. “Spit it out,” I told her.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your thoughts are loud enough.” I grabbed a Diet Coke, and as I was about to face her, a flyer attached to the freezer caught my attention. I pulled it off and looked at it. “What’s this?”
“Xander gave it to me last night.”
It was an advertisement for a winter showcase featuring local artists. I stared at the location and something spiraled inside me. “Reed Street is an art gallery?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
“James mentioned it.” I looked at Gracie, and she frowned. “Don’t start,” I said. “You’re the one that brought him here last night.”
“No, I didn’t. Xander did.” I tilted my head in question, waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.
At the bottom of the flyer was a list of featured artists, and the name James Kingsley stood out like a fluorescent beacon.
“Are you going to this?” I asked her.
She stretched on the sofa and turned on the television. “I was thinking about it. Xander wanted me to go with him, but I’m not going anywhere in this weather.” Her shoulders shook with an exaggerated shiver. “And even if I was willing to go, there’s no way I’m riding in a car with Xander in all that ice. So, no, I’m not going.”
I flattened the paper on the countertop and traced my fingers over the bold letters.
“James invited me,” I told her.
Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “Are you going?”
I nodded before I spoke. “Yes.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She sat up on her knees. “That guy’s got problems. I’m telling you, the stories I’ve heard…”
I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t interested, but somehow hearing gossip from Gracie about James, felt wrong.
“Don’t tell me.” I folded the flyer and put it in my back pocket.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m already nervous about meeting him. I don’t need a reason to back out.”
“I beg to differ.” She crossed her arms and fell back onto the couch.
“He and Xander are friends, right?” Gracie nodded. “And he trusts him?” Again she nodded, but I could see the hesitation. “Do you trust Xander?”
“That’s not fair,” she said. I raised my brow, and she huffed. “Yes, I trust him.”
“Then that’s all I need to know. For now.”
“He’s got another side.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” She rolled her eyes, and I continued. “Look, I can’t explain it, but—something’s happened with us. I have to know what it is.”
Gracie snorted. “It’s called sex appeal. Believe me, I get it. He’s smoking hot in a scary sort of way. Just don’t let it blind you. He’s got issues, and that’s putting it mildly.”
“Gracie, no more. Seriously. I trust him.”
“You shouldn’t.” She turned to stare at the television, but I knew Gracie too well to believe she was watching it. She was too busy stewing.
When I left for the gallery, there were ice warnings all over town. I drove slow, and that, combined with road closures and traffic accidents, caused me to arrive over an hour late.
The gallery was in an old brick building tucked between a used book store and a coffeehouse. I pulled into the shared parking lot, and my heart sank. Aside from my Honda, there were only two other cars, and James’s truck wasn’t among them. Light spilled from floor to ceiling windows, but inside, Reed Street looked empty. Bracing myself for the cold, I pulled my coat tight around my middle and walked across the lot as fast as I could. By the time I opened the gallery doors, my nose was frozen and my teeth were chattering.
A burst of warm air swirled around me, and the cold slowly melted away. I peeked around the empty room, and just when I thought I was alone, an older woman with stylishly large, black-framed glasses appeared from around the corner.
She smiled. “I didn’t think anyone was going to show.”
“Has no one been here?” I asked.
“A few.” She held out her hands for my coat.
“The weather’s terrible. Maybe they’re running late,” I said.
“Well, we’re hoping,” she said before leaving me to wander.
Reed Street was a casual place.
The vaulted ceilings showed off exposed beams and industrial wiring. The floors were concrete, stained a dark mahogany, and the walls were a crisp white that allowed the art to pop with color.
As I walked around, I found it difficult to imagine James here among these sophisticated paintings. He was all rough and unfinished edges. Picturing his scarred hands making smooth strokes on something as delicate as a canvas was nearly impossible, but was it unbelievable? Hadn’t he always been gentle with me?
I was three quarters of my way through the exhibit when I saw his name. It was on a white card beneath a heavily framed canvas. I stared at it, afraid to view the painting above because, somehow, I knew it would change everything.
Taking a steady breath, I looked up, and my first reaction was disbelief. I gave my head a tiny shake and took a step closer. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But no matter how I viewed the painting, the image remained, and what was staring back at me was, well, me.
Of course, there were differences, like the style of my hair, but everything else was a mirror image. I’d never seen my own reflection while inside the visions that haunted me, but I knew without a doubt that this was the girl in the hole. This was the girl that ran in terror. This was the girl huddled in fright under the crack of gunfire.
A sharp pain twisted in my chest, and my throat swelled until my breath was shallow and labored. For a week, I’d envisioned myself hiding in a dank hole. The image of James, his face a silhouette, was engraved in my mind. But here, in this portrait, was how I must’ve looked to him as he stared down at me. I was wide-eyed and frightened, and my pale skin was luminescent under the light of the moon.
How was this possible? The rise of panic and the overwhelming urgency to run had my muscles quivering as I prepared for flight.
“You came.”
I turned at the sound of his low rumbling voice and found James standing at my back.
“I wasn’t going to,” I said after a moment’s hesitation.
“What changed your mind?” he asked, his eyes intent and searching.
“I don’t know.” I pointed at the painting, my chest full and crowded. “You want to explain this?” I asked, turning back to him.