Dangerous Kiss

by Michelle Love

  Teresa nodded. “I keep forgetting; you’re not from around here. The Newlans are huge in Portland, I mean, massive. They fund colleges and schools, own big swathes of the city. Freddie Newlan, Flynt’s father, was a property magnate and he loved this city. Flynt isn’t a businessman, but he does love to build stuff with his own hands. But, yeah, he’s worth billions.”

  Zea shook her head. “Of all the people…”

  Teresa laughed. “I know, and Flynt doesn’t help with his reputation. He doesn’t get involved; he takes what he wants and never promises anything. But there’s a good guy underneath all of that.”

  Zea smiled. “How come you and him …?”

  Teresa made a face. “Apart from the fact he’s like my little brother, he’s not my type. I like bald with a beard and a bike.”

  Zea laughed, the weight lifting slightly from her.

  “He likes you,” Teresa went on, nudging her. “Never seen him look at a woman the way he looks at you. Anyway, table five’s waiting on me, so…”

  She left Zea alone in the kitchen, thinking about what Teresa had just told her. She sighed. “Well, I screwed that up, then.” She cleaned up her workstation absentmindedly. Could my life be any more of a mess?

  She pushed the thought away and got to work.

  Bree Saffran was going crazy. After refusing to stay in the hospital overnight, she had gone home with her mother and had lain awake all night. Luca had come home with them, and she could hear him and her mother talking long into the night. Emory was gone, probably dead, and it was because of her, Bree, again. Yeah, yeah, she knew what they all said—it was David Azano and Ray Grace who had committed the crimes; she wasn’t responsible for their actions—but Bree felt that weight. She couldn’t get Ray Grace’s sneering face out of her head.

  I put a bullet in her gut and now she’s sinking to the bottom of the Bay. She’s gone.

  Bree moaned, trying to get the image of Emory being shot out of her mind. It replayed over and over in her mind. Now, as she showered, mid-morning, she felt desperate to get out of the house, away from everyone and everything. Grieve in private.

  “I’m going out,” she told her parents a half hour later. Her father looked shattered; her mother drained and pale. Clem stood and hugged her daughter.

  “I wish you would take protection with you, but looking at your face, I know you won’t. Go somewhere public and park outside, if you have to.”

  Normally, Bree would have rolled her eyes at her mother, but Clem was clearly trying not to curb her independence and Bree appreciated it. “I’ll be careful, I promise, Mom.”

  Clem nodded, and Luca tried to smile at his daughter. “Love you, boo.”

  She went to hug him. “Don’t give up hope, Dad.”

  The coffeehouse near Pike Place was reasonably empty for a Saturday. Bree ordered a vanilla latte and grabbed a seat on one of the couches in the back. She dragged her book from her bag and hunkered down, giving out her best ‘do not disturb’ vibes. In the city, she'd sought out a bookstore, one of the large, anonymous ones she rarely frequented; today she didn't want to speak to anyone, or be noticed, recognized.

  For an hour or two, it worked. She lost herself in the book, forgot where she was, and just read. Only the persistent nagging image of Emory lingered at the back of her mind, distracting her every few seconds. Eventually, she put her book down and closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose. A headache pounded at her temples. Bree suddenly felt like she could scream. Her chest tightened and hot tears forced themselves out of her closed eyelids. Bree wasn’t typically a crier, but as the panic attack built, she found she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the tears. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” she whispered, aware that people would start to stare.

  “Breathe in deep through your nose and hold it. That’s good. Then breathe right out, even longer than you think you have air for … then in again…”

  She followed the directions of the soft male voice speaking to her and after a minute or two, felt the panic attack start to abate. She slowly opened her eyes.

  Her savior was sitting across from her now, his bright blue eyes on her, his light brown hair falling to his shoulders. He looked vaguely familiar, but right at this moment, she didn’t care about that.

  “Keep breathing deep,” he said. “It’s better than valium, I promise.”

  Bree did as she was told and five minutes later, she smiled hesitantly at the man across from her. “Thank you. You’re very kind. I’m Bree.”

  “Jesse. Jesse Kline.”

  Bree started. “Hey … you’re Lexi’s brother.”

  Jesse nodded, his eyes clouding. “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry about Lexi,” Bree said, her heart pounding with sadness. Lexi had been her age when David Azano had murdered her at Auburn. “She was a lovely person, really bright. And funny too, I remember.”

  Jesse smiled. “I’m glad you remembered that; not a lot of people do. They remember the cute cheerleader, the straight-A student but to me, she was the funniest person I ever knew.”

  Bree smiled at him. “Yes, she was, really funny. And kind, too. I remember one day, she came to see me after I had a bad day in one class. It was just after my mom and dad had decided to get divorced and even though it was definitely for the best, I guess it backed up on me that day. I got into an argument with one of the professors. Lexi came to find me afterward and sat with me for a while. Guess that kindness runs in the family.”

  Jesse grinned, and Bree’s insides did a little dance. His smile was to die for. “Hey, listen, do you mind if I join you for a while? Can I get you another latte?”

  Bree smiled. “Yes, you can to the first question, but I’m buying the coffee—it’s the least I could do.”

  Much later, as evening began to fall, they walked down to the waterfront and to one of the seafood restaurants there. The waitress dumped the bowl full of shellfish, red potatoes, and corn onto the table as they sipped their cold sodas. Bree was happy to see that Jesse loved food as much as she did.

  “So,” she said, crunching into a buttery piece of corn, “I assume you were at Auburn before us? What do you do now?”

  “Photography,” he said. “Just started my own business. Dad wanted me to go into the family business, but I balked. Running an airline isn’t my thing.”

  Bree nodded thoughtfully. “Nah, me either. Flying planes, what a drag.”

  Jesse grinned at her tone. “Now, see, if it had been flying planes then I might have considered it, but it’s more the running of the airline. Yawn.”

  “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Twenty-six. You?”

  “Nineteen. Grandad.”

  “Fetus.” They both laughed, and Bree sighed.

  “Thanks for today, I really mean it. It’s been a weird twenty-four hours, and with not knowing about Emory, it just all got to me.”

  Jesse’s eyes were full of empathy. “Anytime. God, how you’re even standing is beyond me.”

  Bree suddenly felt shy. “I won’t be cowed by anyone.”

  “Good for you.”

  He walked her back to her car. “Bree, can we do this again? Soon? You may think I helped you, but trust me, you helped me just as much. I’d like to see you again.”

  Bree flushed and grinned to cover her embarrassment. “Give me your cell phone.”

  She programmed her own number in, then sent a text to her own phone. “Soon.”

  Jesse grinned and kissed her cheek. “Very soon.”

  Portland

  As evening fell, Zea was taking a tray of food to one of the tables outside, the young men with the party flirting with her and making her laugh. For a second, she felt the weight on her chest lift, enjoying the attention. One of the young men slipped his cell number onto her tray, and she grinned. They thanked her for the food and fell on the burgers and fries as if they hadn’t eaten for a week.

  Zea wished them a good afternoon and turned—and collided w
ith Jared. She jumped back as if she had been burned and he put his hands up, his expression contrite.

  “Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

  She gaped at him. The men at the table looked up, and she flushed. Jared took her arm and led her away from them. Zea wanted to pull away but didn’t want to make a scene. Everything inside of her was screaming at her to run away, but Jared had managed to corner her. She couldn’t stop trembling.

  “Zea, I wanted to come and see you. About the reprehensible way I acted yesterday, I cannot apologize enough. I am so, so sorry. I had had too much to drink and my pride was hurt because of … well, let’s not dwell on that.”

  He seemed so genuine and yet … his whole demeanor was off, intimidating. He stood too close, looking down at her, blocking her from moving. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and they raked over her body in a way that made her cringe.

  “Jared, I …” Her voice was scratchy.

  He interrupted. “Zea, please, let me make it up to you, let me take you out. Tonight. And then afterward we can talk about what happened. Afterward.”

  Bile rose in her throat. “No. I’m sorry, Jared, I think it’s best if we don’t spend any more time together. I mean it. Please.”

  He stepped even closer. “But we’re family, Zea.” He was backing her into the alley, out of sight of the street, of safety. His eyes burned through her. Zea saw him reach into his jacket and felt icy coldness rush through her veins. She cast a panicked look around her, her legs wobbling. If he pulled out a weapon … all the muscles in her body tensed for an assault. His big frame was blocking the light out.

  “Zea, are you scared of me?” Jared was still smiling. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Zea. I’m sorry about yesterday. Truly.” The mocking tone of his voice belied his words. Zea’s throat had closed. She steeled herself and took a step around him, back out into the view of the street. Her body did not relax through, still braced for an attack.

  “Jared, please go.”

  Jared’s smile faded, and he stared down at her, his lip curling. He pulled a jewelry box from his jacket. “I wanted to give you this. It’s an heirloom of mine and David’s.” He held out the box to her.

  “You are not David’s brother; I do not believe you. He would never have…” She broke off, angry, and slapped the box away. “I don’t want anything from you except peace. Go, and never come back.”

  Jared sighed, shaking his head, a mocking smile on his face. “I thought you were worthy to wear my mother’s necklace. But apparently not.” He tucked the box back in his jacket. “You disappoint me, Zea, you really do.”

  He stepped toward her and Zea had to fight her fear to stand her ground. Jared’s eyes bore into hers.

  “You little whore. How many men have tasted that pretty little cunt of yours? Hundreds, I bet.”

  Zea took a deep breath in, trying not to scream. And then she saw him. Leaning against the hood of his car, watching them from across the street. Flynt. She met his gaze and felt her whole body relax. He was her protection.

  As they stared at each other, they both started to smile. Jared was talking again, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “Jared.” She interrupted him, not looking away from Flynt. “I meant what I said. I never want to see you again, and if I do, I will go to the police. I had a doctor take a rape kit this morning, take photos. If you want to remain a free man, I suggest you leave Portland for good. I have to go back to work now, excuse me.”

  Her voice was strong, determined. Jared followed her gaze over to the police station. Flynt stared back at the older man, his expression fierce. He took a step towards them, his eyes blazing fury as he stared at Jared, but Zea put her hand up, halting him.

  “Goodbye, Jared.” Zea’s tone was decisive, and she stepped around him, throwing another grateful smile over to Flynt as she reentered the diner. She saw him grin at her, then get in his car and drive away.

  At eleven, Zea was exhausted. Finally, the diner cleared out, and Teresa took a break at Zea’s insistence. Zea sat at the counter, sorting out cash to take to the bank. She yawned, her eyes feeling sore and heavy. She closed them and felt herself sway, sleep a temptress she would quite easily give in to right now. The door clattered. She looked up and grinned. Flynt was coming in the door. He smiled back then turned and locked the door, flicking the ‘Closed’ sign. Zea was confused.

  “What are you…?”

  “We need to talk about earlier.”

  Zea’s heart sank.

  “What about it?” She avoided his eye.

  “What was Podesta saying to you?”

  “Nothing much. I—”

  “Zea. I saw your face. You were scared.”

  “Flynt.” Zea looked around, and he followed her gaze.

  “There’s no one here, Zea. We’re gonna talk about this.”

  Zea looked uncomfortable. “Flynt…”

  “What happened?”

  She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “It was really nothing. He made a pass at me, and I turned him down.”

  The lie hung there for a second before Flynt answered.

  “Okay.” He reached over and put his hand over hers. “Zea?” The concern in his voice, the feel of his skin on hers, made her eyes prickle—what the hell was wrong with her? She needed to grow a thicker skin. She dashed away a traitor tear with the back of her hand.

  “Flynt, honestly, it was nothing, and I’d really like to forget it.”

  “Did he touch you?”

  His question made her throat close; she refilled his coffee cup and saw her hand shaking.

  “Flynt, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Coming behind the counter, he pulled her into the kitchen and took her in his arms. For a second, she resisted, but the smell of his clean skin and the warmth of his body against hers was too much, and she let him pull her closer.

  “Zea … did he…?”

  “He raped me. Last night, he was … he raped me. I think he drugged me, but I can’t be sure.”

  Flynt looked horrified. “Jesus, Zea … we need to go to the police.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t, Flynt. I can’t…”

  He was staring at her. “Whatever it is you are hiding, Zea, you can trust me with it.” He sat her down. Zea stared into his eyes and for some unknown reason, everything she had been through flooded out of her, David, the shooting, her move to Portland, and Jared. By the time she was finished, she half expected him to get up and walk away. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

  “I’m sorry for accusing you of breaking in, Flynt. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He brushed a hand through her hair. “Sweetheart, don’t even think about that. Look, the first thing we need to do is go get you checked out … yes, look, we can go private; my family’s doctors are discreet. We need to get a rape kit. Then we need to find out exactly who this Jared Podesta is.”

  Bree was plagued with nightmares. Nightmares about being tied up in the back of Ray Grace’s car, or being back in the school. And in every dream, Emory was there, telling her to run, get away from whatever pending fate was awaiting them both. She saw Emory being stabbed, being shot, bleeding; there was always so much blood.

  Bree awoke, sobbing. As she calmed herself, telling herself over and over that it was just a dream, the reality came screaming back. Emory was somewhere, badly hurt or probably dead. Bree got up and padded to the kitchen. She started as she saw her dad standing at the window staring out.

  “Dad?”

  Luca turned and half smiled. “Hey, kiddo.”

  She hugged him. “Did you hear anything?”

  He shook his head. “The Coast Guard hasn’t found anything yet, and the shipping yard people have checked every container. They found fresh blood on the edge of the jetty, a spent cartridge nearby.”

  Bree felt her heart sink and she looked at her father. “Dad?”

  “If the DNA matches Emory’s … then yes, it looks
like he shot her and she went into the water.”

  “Oh, God, Dad…”

  Luca struggled to keep his emotions in check as he hugged his daughter. “I won’t believe it, Bree, not until they find her body. I’ll never believe she’s gone.”

  Bree wanted to comfort her father, but she could not find the words. After talking with him for a while longer, she went back to bed but lay awake, brooding. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was a little after two a.m. She grabbed her cell phone and typed out a text.

  Are you awake? I know it’s late. I’m sorry.

  Jesse’s reply came back a second later. I’m awake, and it’s no problem. You okay?

  No. They found blood at the scene where Emory went missing.

  God, I’m sorry, Bree. That’s rough.

  I don’t know what to tell my dad. He’s in pieces.

  There was a longer pause between the tests this time then: I will be honest. There’s nothing anyone can say that will make him feel better. It seems cold, but you just have to get through it, go through the five stages. At least we had closure; we had Lexi’s body to bury and grieve over.

  Have you got a big family?

  There were three of us: Lexi, me and Kizzie. Kizzie didn’t go to Auburn; she had a scholarship to the Peabody Institute. She plays the cello.”

  That’s cool. Is she okay?

  Long pause. No, not really. She’s in a facility at the moment for depression; she was Lexi’s twin.

  Oh, God, I’m sorry. So much damage.

  So much. How about you? Family?

  Only child.

  Ah, little princess.

  Bree chuckled to herself. Damn right. Bow down, serf.

  **genuflects** Wanna get together tomorrow?

  Bree smiled, the tightness in her chest lifting. Love to.

  Good. Meet me at the Sound Garden at noon.

  You got it. Goodnight, J. Thanks for talking to me.

  Anytime, your majesty. J.