Lies_simple

by Scott, Kylie

  “That was a fast reaction time. You must have been close,” I say, cocking my head at Thom, my voice cold. “Where were you exactly? No…wait…don’t tell me. The silver sedan parked down the street. I’ve seen it in the local area a couple of times over the past few months. Never stays put for long though. Same with the white SUV and blue hatchback.”

  “You missed a few.”

  “Ah, but you didn’t expect me to notice any of them. Did you?”

  “No,” says Thom, wryly. “I didn’t.”

  “Untie me, please,” I order. “This is getting uncomfortable. Henry’s knots are far too realistic.”

  Thom pauses for a moment. I’m not sure if he was thinking of making a crazy dash for it while I’m still incapacitated. But eventually he gives a resigned sigh and starts tearing apart Henry’s work. One thing I’ll say for mad survivalists, they know their knots.

  “Thank you. You know, I’d punch you if I thought you’d stand still for it.” I flex my hands, encouraging the blood flow. “It’s funny, really. Fox told me to get some sun, to get out and live my life. So I started going on walks around the neighborhood. And Bear and Crow were always lecturing me about being aware of my surroundings. Making sure I noticed changes or patterns in the local area and letting them know if I was worried about anything.”

  “Yet you kept it to yourself.”

  “Actually, I thought it was just them being overly cautious and watching me at first. The baseball caps and sunglasses and all the rest you wore threw me for a while. But then I started to wonder. Your shoulders aren’t quite as broad as Bear’s. Yet you seemed to have short hair, unlike Crow.”

  His lips form the expected unimpressed fine line. “I needed to see you, to be close to you. Even if down the street was the closest I could get. Thought I could stay away, that I’d be able to do it, but I couldn’t.”

  Jen and Henry, meanwhile, stand nearby, hanging on every word. Guess we’re quite the dramatic spectacle. And they played their roles admirably. Can’t blame them for wanting to see things through to the end.

  “Lucky for me that you didn’t,” I say, crossing my legs. “It got me thinking. Those last words you said to me back at the wedding, about blaming yourself for putting me in danger. They kept running through my mind. Then there was the way Bear held on to me when we saw your body. Something about that always felt odd. How he wouldn’t let me touch you at all. A little later I find out through a bit of internet research that there are drugs that can slow the breathing and heart rate down so far they’re almost undetectable.”

  Thom nodded. “It’s risky, though. That’s why we couldn’t let you get too close. I had a pulse monitor on my ankle and an anesthetist in the next room. After Scorpion had tracked us down like that, tried to kill you…I couldn’t risk anyone else coming after me. I had to protect you.”

  I ignore his excuses. Typical male. Of course he believes he did the right thing, but I know he’s wrong. And right now, it’s only my opinion that matters. So there.

  “I didn’t know you were alive for sure, however, until I had Henry go over the house looking for your weapons. I gave him strict instructions not to look like he saw any surveillance gear, especially if it looked recently installed. But to tell me everything he found.”

  “You found out about the cameras I installed?”

  “It’s you, Thom,” I snap. “Of course there would be cameras. No respect whatsoever for a person’s privacy.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”

  “I almost didn’t spot them either,” Henry says. “But whoever did the install was too perfect. I just had to work out where exactly I’d want the fiber-optic cameras for best viewing and minimum chance of detection, and there they were. Down to the inch.”

  “Great. I’ll have a word to Fox about her technique.”

  “Right then, time to be going.” Henry eases into a sitting position, pulling off the thick black sweater to reveal the bulletproof vest beneath. “We’re all square then, Betty?”

  “Absolutely, Henry. You were brilliant.”

  “I want my weapons back,” says Thom.

  Henry just laughs. “You’re not getting ’em back.”

  “You think he did all of this for free?” I ask, head cocked. Henry moans and groans, stretching out his doubtless bruised back. “I’m afraid I found your two extra weapons caches too.”

  “Just the two? Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Wait, what?” Henry stopped short. “There was a third? Where?”

  “See you, Henry.”

  Henry scowls and stomps off, offering me a brief wave before heading for the still-open front door.

  “Thanks again, Henry.”

  “Guess that’s my cue to leave too,” says Jen, climbing to her feet. She grabs a tea towel off the counter to wipe off the fake blood. It’s a hell of a mess. “Not to be judgey, but I think you two might need couples counseling or something. Normal people don’t tend to pull this sort of shit, just F.Y.I.”

  “True. And I owe you a new T-shirt.”

  “It wasn’t a favorite.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I mean that. You know, the drama summer camp when you were fourteen really paid off.”

  “Right?” She grins. “Should have gone into acting. I have a gift. You, on the other hand, sucked. Why did you have to kill Jen? Honestly, B. The worst.”

  “I didn’t think I was that bad.”

  “The actual worst. Later.” Jen wanders out of the house, still dabbing at the fake blood on her chest with a tea towel.

  “Bye.” The smile falls off my face as soon as she’s gone.

  Thom closes the door after her, flicking the lock and turning on the security system. When he wanders back my way, he’s reverted to his blank-face special, giving nothing away. In silence, he starts picking up the spilled fruit from the floor.

  Whatever. I caught him. I win. He’s mine. After I kick his ass, of course.

  “You tricked me,” he says.

  “You tricked me.”

  He shakes his head. “This was a dangerous stunt to pull, babe.”

  “Do you have any idea how angry I am at you right now?”

  “What if something went wrong and someone actually got hurt?” He piles the fruit into a big bowl on the table. “And your cheek is red.”

  “He had my permission to do that.”

  Thom’s jaw is set. “If he ever does something like that again we’ll be having words.”

  “He’s never going to need to do something like that again. You’re totally missing the point,” I say, somewhat exasperated. “I’m fine, Henry and Jen are fine, everyone’s fine. And you’re alive—what a surprise. Why don’t we talk about that for a minute, huh? That and how fucking furious I am at you.”

  He sighs. “I did it for your own protection.”

  “You do not get to make major decisions that impact both of us on your own. That is not love and togetherness. It is just assholishness!”

  He just looks at me.

  “I’m serious, Thom. You broke my fucking heart.”

  “I know and I’m sorry. But Scorpion may not be the last person who ever comes after me.”

  “Then we’ll deal with it together.”

  “You don’t understand,” he says. “I’m working again. Consulting only at this stage. Low threat level and lets me stay close to home. But it’s still dangerous.”

  “Crossing the street is dangerous. Riding in a car is dangerous. I never needed you to retire. It was just another decision you made assuming you knew what I needed.”

  Still, he doesn’t look convinced. Idiot. “How’d you get in contact with Henry? I’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on you. Didn’t see that one coming.”

  “Those couple of girly weekends at Jen’s. I left my cell there and borrowed her neighbor’s car to go searching up north. Took me a while to remember the right trail to his place, actually. It’s pretty well hidden.”

  �
��That is super sneaky.”

  “Thank you.”

  Then he just looks at me. And it’s all there in his gaze. All of the love I want from this man. “This isn’t a good idea, babe. For lots of reasons.”

  “Let me ask you one question, Thom. Just one,” I say. “Do you love me?”

  And there’s no hesitation. “You know I do.”

  “There you go, then.” I nod. “We’re having a baby and we’re staying together. I’ve already made my mind up. Besides, who the hell knows what I’d do next if you try to disappear again? You’d never get another good night’s sleep from worrying about what shenanigans I might be up to.”

  “A baby?” he asks, face frozen.

  “Yes.”

  For a long moment, he says nothing. “A baby. Wow.”

  “Turns out dealing with all the organization required for a wedding and having your fiancé supposedly up and die on you plays havoc with remembering to take the contraception pill.”

  “From when we had sex before the wedding?” He comes over and stands in front of me. “Holy shit.”

  “That’s right. In approximately five months’ time.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “I’ll probably be insanely pissed at you for at least half of that. But then I guess I’ll let it go. If you’re lucky.”

  “We’re going to be parents.”

  “Though I’ll warn you now, Thom. After this, I automatically win every fight ever. It doesn’t even matter if I’m wrong. Is that understood?”

  He reaches out and touches my belly, almost in wonder, though I’m barely showing.

  “Are you all right? You’re not going to puke or faint or something, are you?” I ask.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Just need a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  At long last, he raises his gaze to meet mine. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  “I know. I love you too. But if you ever pull this sort of shit again I will kill you myself.”

  “You will, huh?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Well…not kill you exactly, I suppose. But I’ll at least shoot you. Somewhere none lethal, but quite painful just the same. Am I understood, Wolf? Are you reading me and all of my threats loud and clear?”

  He smiles and it’s perfect. “Roger that.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, what?” I ask, stacking the last of the dirty glasses in the dishwasher. Dinner was tacos because everything is better with tacos. Not that life isn’t awesome already.

  Thom stands behind me with a baby in hand. A baby with a bare ass, actually.

  “It fell off again?” I ask, incredulous.

  Lines crease his forehead. Fatherhood and marriage have taught him how to express himself fully and often in lots of different ways. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

  “A man with your skillset and you can’t work a diaper? For real?”

  “Thought I got it right this time. Not too tight, not too loose.”

  “Wow. Seriously. I mean, you can defuse a bomb, but your small child’s pants situation is somehow beyond your capabilities. I am officially amazed.”

  “In my defense, nobody’s managed to provide me with a circuit diagram for this one.”

  Six-month-old Henry takes his fist out of his mouth long enough to giggle and smile at me before peeing down the front of his father’s shirt. I try not to laugh. I really do.

  “Well, I guess that was inevitable,” I say. “I’ll go get some wipes and a towel.”

  “Here. You take him,” my husband offers, holding our son toward me.

  “No way. What if he does a number two next?” I maneuver around the dynamic and now wet and smelly duo. “He’s all yours, buddy.”

  “Great.”

  Thom returning to official live status meant some changes. It’s not easy to bring someone back from the dead without it becoming a big deal. Only Jen and my folks (who are still being told the whole secret-government-business-please-don’t-ask-any-questions line) know about his return, for starters. I told everyone else that I was moving to get a fresh start and eventually that I’d met someone new. We relocated to a roomy modern log-cabin-style home on a couple of acres on the outskirts of Boulder, Colorado. My official favorite of all the safe houses. In the basement is a secure workstation, safe room, and weapons locker…just in case.

  We also got quietly married and changed our last name to Ferguson. Thom works mostly online from home, handling the everyday management of the zoo and doing all sorts of interesting research, with a few short trips now and then. I, meanwhile, work part-time at a local florist shop. But while I can come home and tell him all about my day, his must remain top secret. And I’ve accepted this. In turn, he’s accepted that I require a certain level of privacy and has eased up on the surveillance. I even occasionally let him win a fight when I’m feeling particularly gracious. Guess all relationships require a certain amount of compromise.

  Occasionally, I fly out to see my old friends in L.A. But more often than not, Jen comes here to visit her godson. Fox, Bear, and Crow also have a habit of dropping in now and then and also claim godparent status. The original Henry prefers to Skype once a month or so from his bunker. He was delighted at our choice of name and gifted our son a rocket launcher, which my child shall never receive if I have any say about it.

  I like to think our baby boy will grow up to be an accountant or a lawyer or a dermatologist. Something safe and far from explosives. But we’ll see. People can only be themselves. And after everything we’ve been through, I know I’m my best self with Thom and he’s his best self with me. Life is good.

  The end.

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  REPEAT

  CHAPTER ONE

  The shop sits on a busy street in the cool downtown neighborhood of Portland, Maine. Larsen and Sons Tattoo Parlor is written on the window in elegant script. Inside, music plays, two guys lounge on a green velvet chaise flicking through books. It’s all very clean and neat and awesome looking. And there’s a sound like an electric drill in the air.

  The girl behind the counter stops, mouth gaping when she sees me. She’s pretty and petite with a shaved head.

  “Hi,” I say, attempting a smile. “Can I speak to—”

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” a deep voice booms.

  I meet the eyes of a tall man covered in tattoos. Shortish, light brown hair, lean but muscular. He wears jeans and designer sneakers, a T-shirt advertising some band. For sure, he’d be handsome if he wasn’t scowling at me. Actually, strike that. He’s handsome period, irrespective of his glare. His angular jaw is covered in stubble and it frames perfect lips. Straight nose, high cheekbones. Unlike me, this man is a work of art.

  “No, not happening,” he says, striding over. His large hand wraps around my upper arm, grip firm though not cruel. “You don’t get to come back.”

  “Don’t touch me.” My words are ignored as he marches me back toward the door. Panic bubbles up inside and I slap his chest hard. “Hey, buddy. Do. Not. Touch. Me.”

  At th
at, he blinks, a little startled. “Buddy?”

  I don’t know what he was expecting, but he lets go. It takes me a full minute to get my breathing back under control. Dammit. Meanwhile, everyone is watching. The girl behind the counter and the two guys waiting on the chaise. The woman with brown skin and big beautiful hair holding a tattoo gun and the older woman she’s working on. We have quite the audience assembled. The man screaming about being back in black over the sound system is the only noise.

  “You need to leave,” he says, voice quieter this time, though no less harsh.

  “I have a few questions I need to ask you first.”

  “No.”

  “Did you do this?” I ask, pulling up the sleeve on my T-shirt to display my shoulder. It’s a beautiful piece. A cluster of violets with olive-green stems and leaves. It’s almost like a scientific drawing, but missing the root structure.

  His gaze narrows. “Of course I did it.”

  “I was your client. Okay.” That’s now a definite. Good. Definites give my world structure and help things make sense. Unknowns just piss me off. “Did I not pay you or something?”

  “’the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re angry.”

  And it’s obvious the moment he sees my brow. The hostility and confusion in his eyes changes to surprise.

  I immediately smooth down my bangs, trying to hide. Stupid to get self-conscious, but I can’t help it.

  He gently brushes my hand aside, parting my hair to see. An intimate gesture that sets me on edge. As hands-on as tattooing must be, the way he’s touching me and getting in my space is … more. I try to step back, but there’s nowhere to go. Besides, he’s not actually hurting me, just making me nervous. And as much as I abhor being crowded, some part of me doesn’t mind him touching me.