Bobby left, looking not the least bit suspicious. The men stood around for a minute, eying the bartender, talking. But not angry. They seemed almost calm, as if it was commonplace. The bartender shook her head, looking at the main door for a minute before finally walking back toward her secret hideaway. She looked into the camera, waving around her hand in a circle. Unlock the door.
Ellie reached for it hesitantly, turning the wheel until the door clicked and slid open. The woman pushed inside, closing the door and locking it again. She still had her bat. Ellie backed up toward the back wall, her legs pressing against the bench painfully. There was no way to get sufficient distance away from her.
"Look," she said, putting her bat down, propped against the door, "I don't know what the hell you have yourself involved in, and I am not going to ask. But Xander is a good friend of mine..."
Oh, God. Oh, great. Of course. In a city of eight million people, she would get help from one of Xander's friends. Because that was just her luck.
"I'm not going to tell him," the woman said, shaking her head, watching the girl's blue eyes. "But you need to get your shit together. Be more careful. I don't want you putting him in the middle of your mess because you're being careless."
"I promise I won't do this again. I... this was stupid. I wasn't thinking," she mumbled on, feeling like she needed to talk, even if it was to the woman who looked just as comfortable holding a bat as she did holding a bottle of liquor. "I swear I will just... bug-out if I think they are onto Xander. I don't want him to get hurt because of me. Enough people have suffered already..."
The woman nodded, relaxing a bit. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now," she said, her face looking serious, "was that just one of..."
"Yeah," Ellie cut in quickly, looking down at her feet.
"Christ," Faith said, taking a breath. "You know how to pick um, huh?"
"Unfortunately," Ellie said, looking up.
"His work, I assume," she said, gesturing toward her face. Ellie nodded. And Faith nodded back. No sympathy in her expression, just a sort of understanding. "Make him pay some day for it," she said, her words more of a demand than a suggestion. "Alright. I think the coast will be clear for now. He wont want to come here. Let's just say his organization and this organization are not on friendly terms. Come on," she said, unlocking the door.
Ellie followed her out, noticing the men's eyes falling on her. Her eyes found Vin's. He inclined his chin at her, nodding slightly. But he said nothing, turning to sit back down at his table.
"They like you," Faith said in her ear as she led her toward the door. "You might have just given them a reason to go to war," she explained at Ellie's confused expression. She reached up to the coat rack next to the door, grabbing a women's black leather jacket and holding it out for Ellie to slip in. "Pull the hood up," she instructed. "Good thing you have sneakers on. It's going to be a hell of a run back to Xander's."
Ellie looked at the woman, her eyes kinder, softer. The woman who was her savior. "I don't even know your name," Ellie said, zipping the front of the jacket closed, slipping the baton in the pocket.
"Faith," she said, peeking her head out the door and looking around.
"I'm Ellie," she said, trying to look past Faith and onto the street herself.
"I know," Faith said, looking back with a small smile. "Look," she said, waiting for Ellie to look up at her, "if you need to run and you need help, you can come here. Even if I am not here, Vin will offer a car or an escort out of town. Okay?" she watched Ellie look down at her feet, uncomfortable. Like she was too prideful to accept help. "Say you will take the help if you need it," Faith encouraged, "it doesn't make you weak."
Ellie laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. "I will come ask for help if I need it," she agreed.
"Good," Faith said, looking outside again. "Now run. Keep your head down, zigzag the streets and don't even stop for a breath until your back at Xander's."
"Thank you, Faith," she said, meaning it more than she could express. Faith just shrugged a shoulder, stepping out of the doorway.
And then she was running again. She kept her pace firmly at "I am just out for an afternoon run" instead of "I just robbed a bank", her head ducked so she could only see a few feet in front of her. She wanted to look around, to glance behind, to make sure she wasn't being followed. They would never give up.
But, she reminded herself, they were expecting her blond hair, her gray shirt. With the foreign jacket with the hood pulled up to cover her face, she might as well be a completely different person. She went up and down streets, backtracked, and moved forward. Her chest felt tight and heavy, her mouth dry, her legs a bit wobbly.
God, she was stupid. What was she thinking going to the post office? She could have sent a letter from anywhere. She had the address memorized. She had his number memorized. She didn't need the letters from him.
But a part of her had just gotten used to the one small piece of normalcy or hearing from the only person in the world who knew what she had been going through since leaving him. What she went through with him. K was the person who taught her more than she could have ever learned by herself, the one person who gave a damn if she was alive or not. She needed his words. Needed the cold, calculated words to keep her on track, to remind her of how careful she needed to be, to remind her that life, even a life on the run, was worth living. She needed his letters to remind her that there were people in the world who were good., who cared when there was nothing in it for them, who loved out of the pure goodness of their hearts. She needed that. More than ever. She needed the letters
She let herself have a moment of absolute terror that maybe he or Bobby would go back to that post office and find the letter she had dropped in the box. But that wasn't possible. She made sure she dropped it off inside in the main bin in the main room where all the cameras. It was a federal offense to mess with mail. He might risk a lot, but he wouldn't take the chance of going to jail for mail fraud.
He could have paid off a worker.
But the man who had called on her hadn't looked cruel or sneaky. Maybe he had been told that she was a runaway, a wanted person. Who knew what monster she could be portrayed as. What saint he could look like when he wanted to.
Besides, the address led to an abandoned storefront. The building was falling in on itself. But the mailman dropped the mail through the slot like nothing was out of the ordinary.
They wouldn't find K. He was too good. Too cautious.
Ellie felt the tightness in her chest lessening slightly. She was on Xander's street. Her heart hammered painfully. She reached inside the jacket, feeling around in her bra for the key that had been slicing into her skin for the past half an hour. She stopped right outside the door, fumbling the lock, when the door flew open.
Eleven
"Ellie what the..." and then she launched herself against Xander's chest, her arms wrapping around his back and holding on like she was drowning. His arm slid across her shoulders, leaning out into the street to look for anything off. Aside from a group of kids playing hookie from school on a stoop a few buildings down and the newsstand attendant rearranging magazines... there was no one loitering around.
He had gotten back half an hour before, banging to be let in for a few minutes before he finally pulled out his key and let himself in, calling her name. And that was when the panic set in. It was a strange, clawing sensation through his chest and stomach, sending a cool flush over his skin and making him feel both cold and clammy all at once. He flew through the office and apartment, opening doors to the closets and even cabinets and looking inside, calling her name like a parent when they lost their child in a department store, getting more high and frantic by the second.
Her stuff was still there. Her clean clothes were folded in the box, her dirty clothes... folded beside his own hamper. Her books were piled on top of the dining room table, their edges lined up perfectly. But her wallet was missing.
Xand
er looked around hopelessly, checking for a note, a sign of struggle, something to give him either calm... or warranted panic.
She was a grown woman. If she wanted to leave his office, he really had no reason to say she couldn't. But why would she willingly leave? She jumped at every car door slamming out front, checked the locks even after watching him lock them. An that was when she was as safe as she could possibly be when at his place. What would possess her to walk out the front door and risk facing her fears on the streets?
He paced the floor anxiously, back and forth, through the office and apartment, waiting, hoping she was coming back. She didn't even have a cell to call if something happened. He should have bought her a burner and programmed his number. He was so wrapped up in finding out who she was that he forgot to protect her for all possible situations.
He just... he didn't think she would ever leave.
And then when he heard the key in the lock, he raced to the door, planning on giving her a vicious tongue-lashing for making him, stoic and laid-back him, worry like a mother whose child didn't come home all night.
But then she was clinging to him, her heart hammering in her chest, struggling to find her breath. Because she had been running. She had been running from something. Or someone.
He slammed the door, locking it, pulling her inside with him. His other arm went around her hips, crushing her to his body. The side of his face went down on the top of her head, covered by a hood. Of a jacket that wasn't her own.
Why was she hugging him? Ellie felt herself stiffen for a moment, acutely aware that she had literally just thrown herself at him. She was just overwrought. From the post office, Bobby, the weird stint in the panic room and the run back home, a part of her absolutely certain that someone was going to reach out of nowhere snatch her, and drag her back, make her wish she had killed herself all those years ago when she had seriously considered it.
It had all just become too much and she wanted comfort.
And Xander just so happened to be there.
That was the only reason. The absolute only reason.
She sank back into him, feeling his arm start to slowly rub up and down her back. It felt good to be held. There was so pressure and no questions, just a body wrapped around hers. She turned her head, slipping her face toward his neck, breathing him in. She felt his hand move upward, grabbing the back of her hood and pulling it off. There was a jolt of desire in her core when she felt him lean forward, kissing the top of her head and then resting his cheek against her hair.
She wanted him.
It wasn't just the run, the adrenaline, the fear of her death. It wasn't just a cocktail of emotions and too much nervous energy. It wasn't just because it was nice to be held.
She just wanted him. Like any woman wants any man, for no other reason than there was a physical connection too strong to deny. And maybe she just... didn't want to fight it anymore.
Before she realized her intention, she felt her hand sliding toward his stomach, moving up slowly, enjoying the firm body beneath her fingers. She skimmed over his chest, her hand pausing at his shoulder for a moment, gauging his reaction and trying to bolster her confidence, before moving up toward the side of his neck. Her fingertips moved back and forth beneath his ear before moving behind his neck and pulling a little.
Xander went still the second her fingers touched his stomach, taking one deep breath and holding it. By the time he felt them brush his neck and settle, his jeans felt uncomfortably tight and his heart was pounding in his chest. He was sure it was loud enough for her to actually hear.
They would both swear the air thickened around them, that their movements slowed, that the world may have whizzed by outside of their little bubble, but for them everything was still.
Ellie lifted her face from his chest, looking up at him. If there was a hint of hesitance, of uncertainty... she would have chickened out. She would have curled back into herself and pretended nothing happened. But he tilted his face down at her and she saw nothing but desire in his heavy-lidded dark eyes. A muscle in his jaw was twitching, his mouth in a severe frown, like maybe he was fighting the attraction.
Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down.
No more fighting it.
His lips went down on hers, firm, but not moving for an excruciatingly long moment. It was almost like he was in shock. Or afraid to let himself kiss her.
But then his hands moved from around her, sliding up her body, his fingertips skimming the side of her breast and sending a shiver through her. He brought them up, framing her face, his big hands holding her like she was made of glass. And then his lips pressed into hers.
Ellie melted against him. Every nerve ending, every fiber or her being focused on his mouth, toying with hers at first, pressing, then barely a whisper of contact. Her other arm went up and around his neck, pulling him down toward her.
Xander groaned, his teeth nipping into her lower lip as his hands moved down her back, folding across her hips and pushing in, crushing her against him. He lifted her feet up off the ground, making her mouth more level with his. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, toying with hers, demanding things she hadn't given anyone in years.
Ellie brought her legs up, wrapping them around his waist and linking behind his back. Xander titled his head up, now that she had the height advantage, his hands slipping to grab her ass, holding her against him.
Ellie sighed against his mouth, feeling the pressure build between her thighs, a pulsating, overpowering need. Xander turned, pushing her back up against the wall. His lips pulled from hers. Ellie made a strangled objection and Xander chuckled, his breath against her jaw as his head dipped toward her neck.
His lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, making her legs jerk and clench around his waist, pulling him tighter to her. She closed her eyes, her head titling to the side to give him more access. She trembled as his lips grazed her collarbone, her fingers digging into his back.
She needed more.
Her hands slipped into his hair, grabbing roughly and pulling his lips back to hers, crushing hers down on him with all the half-repressed yearning she felt. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair, making him groan. It had never been like this before, this primal. Raw. Like she wanted him to completely consume her. She wanted to be lost in him.
She could feel his desire pressing against her through his jeans. She dropped her hips lower, adjusting until his need pressed against hers. Ellie pulled her lips from, moaning against his cheek, moving her body against his.
"Fuck it," Xander said, moving his hands around her, crushing into her shoulders, as he started thrusting against her.
The second before his lips met hers, he meant to be gentle. He meant to be in control. He meant to let it just be a kiss, something she needed to help deal with whatever emotion she was struggling with. Nothing more.
But then he hadn't expected the all-consuming hunger to take him over. He hadn't planned on her craving to match his, to pull him in deeper, to let him consider things he never would have let himself before. He couldn't have known that she would taste so intoxicating. He couldn't have even dreamed that she would be so responsive, so open.
Her hips pushed forward to meet his thrusts and he could feel her frustration as strong as his own. It wasn't enough.
His fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, slipping under.
A crash sounded outside the door, glass breaking, someone yelling.
Ellie sprang back so fast she slammed her head against the wall, her legs moving immediately from his waist. She pressed her hands on the wall behind her, steadying herself on her very wobbly legs. She was choosing to believe it was from being in an awkward position for so long, not desire. Nope. Not that. She took a deep breath, trying to smooth over her frazzled nerves.
Xander looked down at her for a second, trying to figure out where her mind was. If she regretted it. But the noise
on the street was getting louder and he ran to his desk to grab his gun. He walked back over, seeing Ellie watching the door, her fist closed around something in her hand. A man yelled and she tossed her wrist outward, making the weapon extend in her hand. A baton. His baton. He almost wanted to laugh. Almost.
At least she had gone out prepared.
He moved toward the door, pulling it open, and striding outside.
Ellie felt shaky, following him to the door, but not stepping completely outside. What possessed him to just... waltz out without figuring out what he might be stepping into? Was he really just that brave? Or that reckless?
There was some kind of altercation in the street, a few of the teenagers from the block yelling at each other. A glass bottle was in the middle of the road, little green reflectors of light everywhere. Xander kept walking, letting out a loud, almost painful whistle that had the heads turning to him, all of them stiffening like they knew who it was without looking.
"What the fuck is this?" Xander yelled, waving an arm out, the gun catching the sunlight.
"Xander... man..." one of the kids started, looking down at his feet.
"Shut up," Xander snapped, tucking his gun into his waistband. "Take your adolescent shit somewhere else," he said, no real anger behind his words. He was just firm, like he knew that boys needed to fight, but that there was a time and a place. And that was not in the middle of the street and certainly not in front of his business.
Gabe came out of his office, a dustpan and broom in his hands. Ellie slunk further into the shop, out of eyesight from them, but still able to watch. He walked up next to Xander and they shared a look. It was a familiar look, like they were remembering their own teenage skirmishes. He held out the dustpan and broom, looking up at the kids expectantly. "Clean it up," he said, waiting for someone to take the items from his hands. The one who had tried to explain what was going on to Xander reached for them. "I don't want flat tires because of your little bitch fight," he said, patted Xander on the shoulder and went back to his office.
Dark Mysteries Page 10