Black Pawn (Michael Cailen Book 1)

by Mel LeBrun

  They got to the hideout and Michael came around to her door. He put his arm around her and helped her walk. She was shaking like a leaf. He brought her inside and sat her on the futon. He put a blanket around her and sat next to her, not sure what to do next. She sat trembling, staring at the floor as Michael did the same.

  “You killed them?” Her words barely audible.

  He looked at her. “No. With what they had in store for you, I should have. They'll need medical attention, but they'll live.”

  She nodded, her eyes still glued to the floor. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

  “Okay ... Do you want to go to bed now?”

  She nodded her head yes.

  “Do you want to change first?”

  She nodded again.

  He brought her pajamas out and set them next to her. She didn't move. He crouched in front of her and lifted her chin until she looked in his eyes. “Change your clothes and I'll be waiting for you in the other room. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  He walked back into the bedroom and quickly changed his own clothes. He waited a few minutes wondering if he should check on her. He was about to when she appeared in the doorway, still shaking and seeming afraid to enter his room. He walked to her and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest and he squeezed her tight.

  “I'm sorry,” he said.

  She started crying and he held her tighter. After a few minutes, she calmed.

  “Let's go to bed,” he said as he released his grip on her.

  He walked her to the bed and held the covers up as she got in. He climbed in on the other side and turned off the light. She curled up on her side. He moved in close behind her, wrapping his arm around her. She took his hand in her own and held it close to her. Her breathing was heavy, but she was starting to calm. He squeezed her hand and pulled her tight to his chest. She squeezed back.

  Chapter 12

  As Michael slowly awoke, he became aware that his arm was still around Jessica. His muscles ached from holding her all night. He lifted his head to see if she was awake. She wasn't. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. He remembered he never talked to her about her missing computers or that her apartment had been searched. He almost didn't even want to bring it up after last night. She had been through enough and he wasn't sure how much more she could handle. Thinking about her computers made him think about the cafe. Why was she there? Why was she using that crap computer when she had two of her own? It was nagging him. He also couldn't figure out why they searched her place. If they were just waiting for her to come home, why bother searching? It didn't add up. He also realized he never asked her what she did for a living. She told him she worked at home, but doing what? He'd have to talk to her. He just hoped she wasn't still too traumatized from the night before. He felt her take a deep breath and sigh. She was waking up.

  She felt Michael's arm around her and felt his hand against her chest. She remembered falling asleep like that. She slid her fingers between his and felt him squeeze back.

  “You're awake?” she asked.

  “Mmhmm.”

  She turned over to face him. She gave him a warm smile. He moved his hand up and cradled her face, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes.

  “I'm so sorry Jessica,” he whispered.

  “You didn't know that was going to happen.”

  “I should have.”

  She pulled his hand down and kissed the back of it. He studied her face. She was beautiful. He was falling for her. He could feel it, but he couldn't stop it. He wasn't sure he wanted to stop it.

  “I'll get the coffee going.” He tore himself away from her. Lying next to her was killing him.

  Jessica watched as he walked away. For someone capable of such brutal violence, he was so tender with her.

  While Michael was rinsing the coffee pot in the sink he felt Jessica's arms wrap around his waist and her body press up against his back. The move startled him. His body tensed and his heart rate increased.

  He used his free hand to press on hers. She squeezed him and he felt a flutter in his stomach. He shut the water off, put the coffee pot on the counter and turned around. She looked shy now and was looking down even though her arms were still around his waist. He cupped her neck in his hands. Her eyes closed.

  “Jessica.”

  She slowly looked up. He had a solemn yet calm expression on his face.

  “We're crossing a line here.” He wanted to give her a way out. Give her time to think about it.

  She looked in his eyes and nodded her head. He slowly leaned in and gently touched his lips to hers, then waited to see her reaction. She moved her hands up to his neck and pulled him into her as she kissed him back. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

  “Are you sure?” he asked during the brief second he was able to tear his lips from hers.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Lifting her off the ground, he carried her to the bedroom. As they moved onto the bed, the reality of what she was doing began to sink in and she started to second-guess her decision.

  When he started pawing at her pajama bottoms, she suddenly had a flood of mixed emotions. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but she wanted to stop. She was afraid to speak up though. Afraid he would be angry, afraid he wouldn't stop anyway. After all she started it, she reasoned. Her heart pounded in her chest and she became filled with panic and fear. She finally couldn't take it any longer. She tried to remain calm despite what she was feeling inside.

  “I need to get up.” She spoke so softly Michael could hardly hear her.

  “What?” he panted between kisses.

  “I need to get up,” she said louder and tried to push him off.

  He stopped and moved off her. “You okay?”

  “I'm fine.” She avoided looking at him for fear he'd see her expression and hurried off to the bathroom.

  The move didn't go unnoticed by Michael. It was obvious something was wrong. He could tell she avoided looking at him and was in quite a hurry to leave the room. He began thinking he might have made a big mistake. He closed his eyes and tried to think of what to do now. The minutes passed and Jessica didn't return. He walked over to the bathroom door.

  “Jessica?” No answer. He sighed. “Jessica ... Come on, we need to talk.” Again, no answer. “I'm coming in.” He waited but still no answer.

  He opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball in the corner crying. Her head was down with her hair covering her face. He looked at her wondering what could have caused her to react this way. He had a bad feeling he knew what it was.

  He crouched next to her. “Were you raped?”

  Her quiet sobbing intensified and he had his answer. He berated himself for not seeing it sooner. The losers she dated, the fact that she didn't trust men.

  “I'm so sorry, Jessica. I didn't know. I'm sorry.”

  “I don't want your pity!” She spoke with an anger in her voice that he wasn't expecting.

  “It's not pity,” he spoke calmly. “It bothers me that happened to you and I'm sorry it did. No one should have to go through that.”

  She calmed and wiped a few tears away, but still wouldn't look up.

  “Jessica, look at me.” She didn't.

  “Please.”

  She turned her head towards him and slowly raised her eyes to look at him. Feeling embarrassed, ashamed, and a blend of other negative emotions she struggled to hold back the tears. She looked at his face and was met with a warm, compassionate smile that melted all those feelings away.

  He brushed the hair away from her face. “Why don't you relax in bed. I'll finish making the coffee and come join you.”

  She nodded while trying in vain to dry her eyes. He stood holding out his hand to her. She took it and he helped her up.

  He walked with her to the bedroom and tucked her under the covers. He finished making the coffee then climbed into bed next to her. He moved close to her
and wrapped his arm around her. She curled up to him and rested her head on his chest as he held her tight. She had stopped crying and now felt mostly numb.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “When you're ready, I'd like to know what happened.”

  She found comfort in the fact that he wanted to know. He seemed to care. He wanted to ask her if what happened to her had anything to do with the fact that she didn't have any family photos or pictures of her as a child. Was this what she was trying to forget? He didn't think it was the time to press her for information though.

  “So what did you do for work that you could afford such a swanky apartment?” he asked, figuring it should be a fairly safe subject.

  “I'm... was,” she corrected herself. “a sort of computer security consultant.”

  “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Companies would hire me to try and hack into their systems. Then I would tell them where their weaknesses were and what they could do to improve.”

  “You must be good.”

  “I was,” she replied, speaking in past tense since that life was now over.

  “Were you working at the cafe?”

  “No.”

  He was expecting her to elaborate but she didn't. “So you go to that cafe often?” Maybe he could solve that mystery, he thought.

  “Once a month.”

  “Is that an average?” She wasn't offering much, he thought.

  “No, I go there once a month.”

  Now he was intrigued. “Why?”

  She wasn't used to talking about Alex. He was a friend of hers that no one really knew about. “I talk with a friend of mine online.”

  “How about we not play twenty questions and you just tell me what you were doing there,” he said finally. “You had two computers at home you could have used to talk to your friend online. Why were you in the cafe? What aren't you telling me?”

  “He's into some illegal activities and I can't talk to him on my personal computers. So I use the cafe computer,” she answered sheepishly.

  Michael sat up and looked at her. “Go on.”

  “What? That's it.”

  “What kind of illegal activities? And how do you know when he's going to be online?” he asked, getting irritated at her evasiveness.

  “He's a computer hacker and we talk the first Tuesday of each month at 11:00 a.m.”

  “At 11:00 a.m. exactly? The first Tuesday?”

  “Well, I'm usually five or ten minutes late, but yeah.”

  “Now that's one hell of a coincidence. I was supposed to be meeting someone who had information on the people after me. The appointment was for Tuesday at 11:10 a.m. Coincidentally, the same time you are usually at the cafe. What are you not telling me?”

  She shook her head, confused. “I don't ... I don't understand.”

  “It was a set up. There was no contact. It was a trap so they could kill me. And they just happened to pick the same day and time that you would be there. Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

  “Why would they want me dead?” she asked, looking to him for answers. It didn't make sense.

  “This friend of yours. Who knows about him?”

  “No one. I never talk about him. No one even knows I go to that cafe.” She was starting to get upset. Why would they want her dead?

  “How long have you known this guy?”

  “Ten years. We met when I was sixteen.”

  “Was he online when the shooting started?”

  “No,” she said, worried now. “He wasn't. He's never been late before.” Then it hit her. “The pictures!”

  “What?”

  “He sent me pictures.” She looked up at Micheal.

  “What do you mean? What kind of pictures?”

  “I need to get my laptop.” She leaped from bed and ran to the dresser.

  “Why do you need your laptop?”

  “Pictures,” she started rambling. “I knew I'd seen those pictures before. They were of a trip he took last year. He sent them to me but said he just went. I knew they were familiar. I should have seen it.” She trailed off as she started rapidly dressing.

  Michael had no idea what she was talking about. Vacation pictures? “Seen what? What are you talking about?”

  She stopped briefly to explain. “When we met he showed me how to hide messages in pictures. We did it all the time. We would chat in forums and post pictures with hidden messages to each other for fun. He hid a message in the pictures he sent. I have to find out what he was trying to tell me,” she said as though she were speed talking. “I need to get my laptop.”

  “Jessica, your laptop is long gone.”

  “What?” she replied stunned.

  “They searched your place and took both your computers. I'm sorry.”

  She looked unconcerned. Michael wasn't sure why.

  “No, I need my other laptop,” she said.

  “What other laptop?”

  “The one I keep in my safe.”

  “You have a safe?”

  “Mmhmm” She quickly nodded. “Under my desk. We need to get it. Now.” She was insistent.

  “I didn't see a safe under your desk.” He wondered if maybe it had been taken.

  “It's in the floor,” she explained. “Under the oriental rug.”

  “Oh. Okay. I'll go after dark.”

  “Why can't we go now?”

  “They're probably watching your apartment. It's too dangerous to try during the day. I'll go alone after dark and get it.”

  “That's not going to work. There's a code and it needs my thumb print.”

  He looked at her like she had two heads. “What the heck do you have on your laptop so that you need to use bio security?”

  “I use it for work,” she said indignantly. “It has all my encryption, decryption and cryptanalysis software. I can't afford to have that stolen or end up in the wrong hands.”

  He scrunched his brow. “You have any jobs recently that made you nervous?”

  “No. All my jobs are for big companies and once in a while a bank. I don't work for the mob if that's what you're thinking.”

  “What kind of stuff is your friend into?”

  “I don't really know. We don't talk about his work. I just know that a lot of it is illegal.”

  “Somehow this is all connected. It's too much of a coincidence you being at the cafe at that time. Neither of us was meant to leave that place alive.”

  Chapter 13

  Michael slumped down on the futon lost in quiet reflection over what Jessica had just told him. Jessica quietly sat next to him.

  “So what are we going to do now?” she asked.

  He looked at her. He knew what he wanted to do, but he also knew it wasn't going to happen. All he could think about was holding her close and kissing her. But there was no way he was going to try that again.

  “I don't know,” he said as he resisted the urge to carry her off to the bedroom like a caveman.

  To his surprise and delight, she moved close to him, leaning her back against his chest and pulling his arms around her. He kissed her neck while he squeezed her tight.

  As he held her, Michael was haunted by the fact that he nearly killed her days before. They had never spoken about it and the guilt was eating at him. Every time he looked at her, he was reminded that he nearly ended her life.

  “About what happened in the water,” he started.

  Jessica turned her head to look up at him. He looked down into her eyes.

  “I didn't know you would just give up,” he continued. “I was just trying to ...” He looked away. He couldn't find the words. He didn't know how to explain what happened or what was going through his head at the time. He closed his eyes. He was racked with guilt and it showed.

  “I wanted to teach you a lesson. I was frustrated and I let my temper take over. It shouldn't have happened.”

  She reached her hand up to his face and turned
him to her. She gave him a warm smile. “I forgive you.”

  He felt like a heavy weight had been lifted. It bothered him that he had lost control of his temper and it almost cost her life. It nagged him that they never talked about it. He hoped now he'd be able to stop thinking about it.

  He brushed her hair away from her face and looked in her eyes. “Why did you give up? Why didn't you fight?”

  She looked away. “I don't know. That wasn't the first time.”

  “What? That you gave up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And when was the other time?”

  She took a deep breath and seemed to be staring off into the recesses of her mind. It didn't appear like she was going to answer him but then she started talking.

  “My father beat me,” she stated coldly. “He wasn't a drunk, he was just mean. My mother was the drunk. She didn't do anything to stop him.” She told the story as if it had happened to someone else and not her. “He never hugged me, never said he loved me or that he was proud of me. Never even paid attention to me unless he was angry at something. My mother only paid attention to me when he wasn't around and if she wasn't passed out drunk. When he was around, I might as well have been dead.” She paused as though what she had to say next was more painful.

  “When I was fifteen, I started dating a senior in high school. He was a quarterback, and he was handsome and super popular. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was special.”

  She pulled away from him. He leaned forward, watching her. She looked back at him and tried to smile as her eyes filled with tears. He didn't say anything, he wanted to let her talk.

  “One night, he said his parents were out and we could watch a movie at his place. I was more than happy to get out of my house and I was excited to spend time with him.” Tears streamed down her face and she closed her eyes. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. “He didn't want to watch a movie,” her voice quivered. “He wanted to have sex. I told him I didn't want to, that I wasn't ready. He got angry. He said he could have any girl he wanted. I told him fine, then go have them. He said he wasn't going to let some piece of trash like me turn him away.” She began sobbing uncontrollably.