Bella sleeps like the dead, barely moving a muscle save for her parted lips occasionally pursing as she snores softly. Like a creeper, I watch her sleep, unable to relax myself. Even with a nightly check of the perimeter and the alarm, I feel like there’s too much at risk, too great a danger to let my guard down.
It’s barely dawn when I finally get out of bed, figuring I should go ahead and start the coffee for the day. I am sipping my second cup, looking out over the water, when I hear Bella padding around.
I feel her enter the room, her warmth reaching me even from the doorway. Or maybe it’s just that she makes me warm inside, thawing a heart I thought had been irreparable and a soul almost certainly irredeemable.
“I made coffee,” I tell her, taking a drink.
“Don’t move,” she whispers.
Instantly, I’m on alert, turning to look out the window but seeing nothing other than the rising sun in the sky. “What’s wrong? What do you see?”
She laughs lightly. “You. Stay, just like that.”
She runs off, and I hear her shuffling around before she reappears with her laptop. I only let her bring it because I knew she couldn’t get Wi-Fi without my help, and it would help her calm down. “I want to draw you. The light is magnificent.”
She sits across from me, telling me how to pose and basically putting me back how I was when she walked into the room. She works quietly, looking back and forth from me to the screen.
“What are you doing, exactly? Is this going to be Picasso-esque and I’ll have to smile politely and act like I get the deeper meaning of abstract art? Or are you more a realist and I’m suddenly going to be paranoid about the size of my nose?”
Her smile is soft, but her hand never stops moving. “I’m more of a realist if those are the only two choices, which they aren’t. But I’ve played with all sorts of styles. I love it all—paints, canvasses, pencils, charcoal, and of course, digital. And each medium lends itself to a different feel.”
“Is that why you’re going to school for graphic design? To be an artist?” I ask, wanting to know everything about her. Not just the dry facts on paper, but the meaning behind her choices, her thought processes as she decided her future.
Her shrug is one-sided so as not to disturb her drawing. “It’s a way for me to do what I love and make money. Right now, it’s mostly typography-type things. Like I designed the logo, did the menus and boards for The Gravy Train. That was a labor of love, but I also want to do other things. Book covers, maybe, or even video game design? Mia is a major gamer and always begs me to play. The play itself isn’t my favorite, but I love seeing how the graphics change and the artist creates the different scenes. It’s just like a painting, but digital. I’m not sure yet. I just love art and want to be able to create for a living.”
The passion with which she speaks is inspiring, making me wish I had something as pure and beautiful that I believed in. Once upon a time, I hoped that, even in the ugly things I did, I could find some balance. Dark for light, evil for good, make wrong things right.
But I can see the truth now. Bella has shown me that.
And I know that I’ll never return to my previous life. I can’t. It means I may never get the answers I need about Jeremy’s death, and while I’m not sure I can let that go without the retribution I promised, I can feel down to the last shredded tatters of my soul that I cannot kill in cold blood again.
Well, except for Blackwell. But killing him wouldn’t be in cold blood. My heart would be pumping fast and hard to have a chance to take him out, my blood heated with fury for the opportunity to insure Bella’s safety once and for all.
Bella taps the screen of her laptop a few times in quick succession, breaking my heavy thoughts. “What do you think?” she asks, turning the computer around.
It’s me. But not.
She’s captured a side of me I don’t think exists. Or if it does, it’s only in her mind. Is this how she sees me?
It’s a profile picture, the sun improbably shining brightly behind me, giving a halo effect. But my expression is dark, my jaw clenched. There’s a tightness to my eyes, a sad beauty highlighted by the single solitary tear trailing down my cheek.
I am every bit a Fallen Angel.
But when I look at her, seeing the hope that I like her painting lighting her eyes, I think maybe I could be redeemed. If anyone can save me, it’s her. And if anyone can save her, it’s me. It’s a match made in heaven. Or hell, depending on the outcome.
Chapter 25
Gabriel
The last twenty-four hours have been sheer madness. Bella and I have cussed and discussed every which way to get her out of this mess. The best idea we’ve come up with is ridiculous, something that only works in movies.
But considering this whole scenario is pretty cinematic, with the evil hitman who falls for his innocent target and a malevolent villain in a tower overlooking the little people of Roseboro, a good fake death seems apropos.
Oddly enough, my dark background is our best secret weapon. I’ve seen too much death, know what it looks like, smells like, feels like in those moments, and while staging that with Bella as the victim turns my stomach, it’s the only way.
If Blackwell will believe she’s dead, and we can hide her away, then it’ll give us time to figure out something long-term. That’s the point where we’re going to need Thomas to step in and use his power in this chess game. A pawn simply can’t win it, but Bella can be the strategic move to get the ball rolling.
I finish blending the most disgusting shake I’ve ever made, pure powdered sugar dissolved in water with a dash of cocoa and an entire bottle of red food coloring. I wasn’t sure the internet was right, but even my eye would be fooled by the murky, dark red liquid. Hopefully, when combined with a camera filter, Blackwell will be too.
I pour the mixture into a sport bottle and add it to the bag of supplies. “You ready?” I call out.
Bella appears at the kitchen doorway a moment later, looking nervous. “Yeah, I’m ready. Guess that means this recipe was a solid counterfeit?”
I hold up the blender, tilting it so she can see. Her face scrunches in disgust, and she turns her head away. “Oh, my God, that’s so gross. It looks so real!”
Evilly, I stick my tongue out and catch a drip running down the side. She screeches and I can’t help but laugh. “Totally edible too,” I tease.
She shakes her head, walking away. “Only if you’re a vampire!”
We gear up, and with a steadying breath, we set out with a prayer that this plan works.
Thirty minutes later, we reach the summit of a cliff I found on a perimeter check yesterday. It’s even more remote than the house, with a view that would warrant it being called a ‘lookout point.’ Most importantly, the mountaintop gives way to a stair-step of cliff edges off the main ridge.
Taking our time, we get everything set up. Well, mostly, I do while Bella tries to breathe and calm down. There’s no need to rush. We need this to look believable, so the beginning has to seem as though I’ve seduced her completely and we’re on a romantic walk through the woods where she suspects nothing.
Right now, though, she looks like there’s an invisible firing squad aiming for her. Which, while somewhat true, will not sell our story.
“Relax. You can do this, Bella. We can do this,” I say soothingly as I come over, stroking her cheek. “It’s going to work.”
We’ve spent hours creating this visual chain of effects, from selfies at the trailhead before we set off on the hike, to the quick video of her ass walking in front of me while I catcalled, telling her to ‘swing that ass for me.’ Her sweetly shy look over her shoulder had been real, and I want to save it just for me, but it’s a puzzle piece in the bigger picture here.
I add a couple of shots of the horizon and the forest below, even taking a 360-degree panoramic that ends with Bella and me together, big smiles on our faces. A few more shots of the happy couple and then it’s time to get to the real wo
rk of today.
“Are you ready?” I ask, and she bites her lip but nods.
I count down, “Three . . . two . . . one,” and hit the record button. “What do you think? Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She nods, her voice quavering, but it works for the setup. “It is, but fuck, this is high. I’m scared of heights, Gabe. You know that.”
Her voice has just a bit of hysteria to it. I know it’s because she’s truly getting scared about the intensity of what we’re about to do, but it effectively sells the fear of heights she doesn’t have.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Come on.”
I move toward the edge of the cliff, walking past Bella and showing a view of the forest below us, careful not to show the cliff face with its juts of rock that create platforms below the level we’re standing on.
I extend my hand, pulling her to my side and angling the camera toward us. I kiss her, soft and slow, taking my time to help calm her.
“Absolutely breathtaking,” I say, bringing the camera close to her again. This close, all you can see is her face, and I can see the wonder and the tremble in her cheek. I want to reassure her, but her reactions look real and are exactly what we need, so I hold myself back.
“You’re not filming the view,” she scolds me lightly. “Look at the birds flying out of that tree,” she says, looking past me.
“Nope,” I say, popping the P.
“Why are you filming me, Gabe? It’s kinda weird.” She blushes like she likes it, even as she protests.
“What do you mean?”
Bella cuts her eyes to me, smiling nervously. “I feel like I’m in one of those ‘found footage’ horror movies. Some monster’s going to swoop out of the forest and snatch me or something.”
I lick my lips hungrily, ready to get this over with, but don’t lower the camera. “Sorry, but the monster’s already here.”
“Wha—” Bella says, but before she can finish, I grab her by the throat, shoving her down onto her knees. “Gabe, what the—”
I slap her, but it’s pulled, and Bella doesn’t roll with it, making me stop the video. “Shit . . . Bella, are you okay?”
Bella gets up, nodding. “I’m fine, but . . . that was terrible.”
“Okay, let’s try again.”
“Wait,” Bella says, taking my hand.
“This is supposed to be real. Slap me,” Bella says simply. “You’re barely hitting me, and I’m supposed to go down like you knocked the shit out of me.”
I clench my teeth, wondering if I’ve got the strength to do it.
We start from the top and make it to the strike again, and this time, I don’t hold back. Feeling horrible, I growl at her, “Stupid bitch.”
Bella falls to the dirt, hard, and blinking in utter shock as she looks up at me. “What?”
The fear is palpable now. The tears trickling down her cheeks are real.
“You thought a guy like me would be with a loser like you? So pathetic. You’re just a pawn in someone else’s game. Useful, until you’re not.” The hateful vitriol pours off my tongue, the opposite of everything I believe, but I force the words through gritted teeth, hoping it reads as spite.
“Gabe, why?” she whimpers, and I almost stop, but I soldier on.
It’s for a good reason. It’s the only way to keep her safe a little longer.
“Gabe . . . please, I—” She’s crawling away from me, her hands and knees getting scraped up and snot beginning to run down her face from her continued cries.
I pull my pistol, aiming at her chest. “Don’t move,” I order her, and she freezes in place.
Stepping closer, I meet her eyes. They’re wide and wild as she shakes her head, pleading with her hands outstretched as if she can stop me. “No, oh, God, please . . . no, Gabe.”
The shot rings out, a loud crack in the quiet woods, and Bella collapses to the dirt.
I drop the camera face down, cutting the video. Rushing off to the side, I grab the bottle of fake blood and turn back to Bella, who’s trying to get up and shaking her head. “Don’t move. Stay just like you are so it looks right.”
She lowers back to the ground, hissing, “Fuck, that was loud.”
I squirt the red viscous mixture on her chest, as if it’s leaking from a small but deadly heart hit. “Hurry, we’ve got to get the timing right.”
We talked through the plan from every angle, and one flaw we saw was the camera cut, but there was no other way. We don’t have a thousand dollars of Hollywood special effects, and I wouldn’t know how to work those anyway. So in order to keep the time stamps lined up, we have to get the video restarted quickly.
My heart hammers in my chest as I see the ‘blood’ on her.
How close was I to damning myself? How could I have ever considered doing for real what I’m pretending to have done to Bella?
How have I done this for as long as I have? How many souls stain my hands. I know the number, of course, but it’s not one I’m proud of. Bile rises in my throat.
I need to atone. It’s as good a word as any to get me moving.
Bella smears more of the blood through her hair before lying down in a puddle of it.
Stepping back, the cold side of me takes over, saying it looks good enough to fool anyone but a pro. All bloodied and bruised from the repeated slaps, Bella feigns unconsciousness, her eyes open wide in shock and her breath held for as long as she can.
I take several still shots, showing the damage. I let her get a breath in and then I restart the camera for the next video snippet, showing my booted feet as I roll her to the edge of the cliff using my toes to keep her moving.
At the edge, I bend down, facing the camera myself. “Job complete,” I say to the glass circle, all cocky arrogance and ugly indifference to the loss of a human life.
I push her over with a shove of my hand, and she silently tumbles from sight. She’d been nervous that she’d scream, but she holds it in, along with any natural instincts to flail. The result is that it looks like she’s already dead and just being dumped into the ravine.
“Bye, Isabella Turner,” I say with a wave.
I cut the video again, my heart frozen in my chest as I look over the edge and pray that she hit the rocky platform below us just right.
She’s there, but she’s still. Too still. Was the drop too far? Did she knock herself out somehow?
“Bella?” I cry out, dropping to my knees to try to descend to her.
She opens one eye slowly. “We clear?” she whispers.
Relief washes through me, and I nod. “Clear.”
She opens both eyes then, laying out wide on the rock as if she’s sunbathing. “Good, help me get up there. It’s a good thing I’m not really scared of heights, but this is really high up.”
I toss her a rope, helping pull her back to the top as I coach her about where to place her feet for holds to make the climb up easier. As soon as she has both feet on the ground, I pull her away from the edge and into my arms. “Oh, my God, Bella. I’m so sorry,” I say, cupping her face and turning it this way and that to verify for myself that she’s okay.
“Hey . . . you look worse than I feel, Gabe. It was just acting. I know you were just doing what you needed to. Are you okay?”
I clear my throat, ashamed. “Yeah. Just some dark thoughts about the kind of man I’ve become. How do you feel?”
“I’m good. Messy, but good. Let’s get this done and then we’ll talk.”
The image of a blood-splattered Bella, blood actually dripping between her teeth and over her lips, shocks me, and I stumble back, dropping the phone before plopping on the ground. Cradling my head in my hands, elbows on my bent knees, I break.
My mind’s overwhelmed, images of the past several years flooding back to pummel me.
“No . . . no,” I moan weakly as I see their faces, remember the names. The bodies, the destruction, the ruin I’ve brought to people.
It’s all coming back to haunt me.
I remem
ber the first person I killed, a drug dealer named Guillermo ‘Big Willy’ Lopez. He’d died with a look of surprise on his face, like he couldn’t believe that his time on Earth was over.
I remember the second, Hunter Earle . . . and the third, and fourth . . .
I remember them all, and my self-control breaks. Horror sweeps over me, and I shudder and sob as I’m wracked, unable to control myself.
What have I become? What . . . what have I done?
I feel a hand on my neck and I jolt. “I . . . God, Bella, I’m evil,” I force out, hiccupping as my body rebels again. “Everything I’ve done . . . no matter how bad those people were, it wasn’t worth it.”
“Come on,” Bella says, holding out a hand. “Let’s go to the stream we passed. I can wash this shit out of my hair and change out of these clothes, and we can talk.”
I nod, numb as Bella helps me up. The stream is only about a hundred feet from where we staged all this, and while it’s not huge, it’s enough for Bella to dunk her hair and face before changing her shirt.
I sit numbly on a nearby rock as Bella cleans up, and when she comes back, she says nothing, just waiting until I’m ready to speak.
“When I slapped you, and I looked down, I was horrified,” I tell her. “Because I remembered the different ways I’d considered taking you out when I first accepted the job and didn’t know you yet. And when you sat up, eyes glassy and looking into my soul . . .”
I shiver, hugging myself, and Bella comes around behind me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I’m okay, Gabe.”
“But they’re not,” I protest. “There is no coming back from what I’ve done. I curse everything I touch with death.” I can feel them all around me, like ghosts of my past, whispers of answers I never got and a brother I let down in the worst way.
“You can’t change the past. It’s come and gone. But what you can do is live your best life for them. For Jeremy, for all the bad people you killed, for me. For yourself.” Her voice is quiet but powerful, speaking to the jagged, broken edges in my soul.
Not So Prince Charming: A Dirty Fairy Tale Page 21