by Mari Arden
I have to bite my lip to contain my laughter. "Well, the scientist told me bouncing women can help him figure out the proper speed and velocity a person can move in order to stay safe. He told me I was helping humanity."
"He was right," Pax comments, leaning closer. I smell his aftershave, and my body's conditioned to start overheating. My breaths become shorter. My body aches at his nearness. "Engineering is a scientific profession too. We calculate speed, velocity, momentums, and forces. So if you help him, you have to help me, too. Start bouncing," he orders as he takes a sip of his beer.
"Make me," I challenge.
"All right," he answers evenly. He sets the beer down at an abandoned table. "Come here so I can take your top off, Jules."
I shouldn't feel so excited but I am. The pulse of spontaneity in his eyes is what I've craved for so long. It's a sign I'm living. It's a sign my secrets might not matter so much. The question that's floated in my mind since day one has always been: to let him go or to keep him? To divert from my plan, or to embrace the unexpected?
To tell Pax my secret or to keep it?
The life in his eyes reminds me why I want him. It makes my worries disappear.
"No," I say slowly, shaking my head. "Never."
"Never?" He lifts an eyebrow. "I think it'll happen sooner than that."
His arrogant tone should repulse me. Instead it only makes me hotter. Slowly, I set my half-eaten wrap down. I begin to inch backwards, never tearing my gaze away from his. I move in slow motion, seeing the curiosity in his eyes. "Catch me if you can."
The challenge is one he can't refuse. I don't wait to see if he will because I know he will.
I know he'll follow me wherever I go.
I run.
The crowds are thick, but I'm small and I find crevices between bodies. Pax is not, but it doesn't stop him. That's the difference between Pax and other people: he doesn't give up. Somehow, I hear him right behind me, and I bolt, ducking under a stand to slip behind.
"No, you don't!" Pax tries to grab me, but I slip away, avoiding his hands like a slippery fish. We're both laughing, but Pax is serious about challenges. He wants to catch me.
I want to run away.
There's an alley up ahead, but it isn't good to move away from the crowd. They're my only defense against Pax. I swerve to the left, diving back in. Someone elbows me in the face and I almost fall. I catch my balance quickly, and attempt to push further in. A woman gasps as I bolt past her.
"Sorry," I yell, not bothering to look back. Adrenaline is pumping in my veins. The pulse of life I'd seen in his eyes is in mine right now. He opens so much inside me.
I need to run faster.
A part of me wants to stop, but I need to keep going. He can't catch me. He won't. I run in a sloppy figure eight, trying to dodge between equipment and people. He almost gets me a few times, but I manage to slide away like early morning fog. It makes me feel proud. I run and run, letting the wind pick up my hair, feeling the rush of blood pounding through me.
Soon I don't hear his footsteps anymore.
I know better than to stop, so instead I glance back. No Pax. After a moment I decide to head to the sidewalks behind the food trucks. I'm hoping to use the cracks between each truck to spot Pax. I follow my plan to the T. I make sure to stay small. I make sure to keep my eyes ahead and sneak glances behind me.
I'd forgotten about the alley that opens.
Pax jumps out from beside me and grasps my arms. "Caught you."
He's got me.
My breathing is hard. My eyes are wide. My heart is pounding with more than adrenaline.
Pax looks into my eyes. "I got you," he tells me quietly. "I've always got you."
I lay my head on his chest.
That pounding in my heart is relief.
* * *
I adjust the top on the dress that Pax bought me. He's been doing that a lot lately, buying me things for no particular reason. It makes him feel good, he says, but it makes me feel like a charity case so we've compromised on only one gift a week. This beautiful black dress is the most exquisite thing I've ever owned. The fabric molds to my body, proving that I really do have curves. I'm even proud of the way my chest looks in it.
"I've never had a girl surprise me before," Pax breaks the amicable silence.
For some reason, I'm pleased by that. "Oh?"
He glances at me. "So you're going to set the precedent. Either I'm going to love surprises from now on, or I'm going to hate them."
I smile secretly. "We'll see."
"I already have everything I want."
The way he looks at me when he says it makes my heart grow so big, that for a moment I think I'm drowning in it, basking in the warmth of his affection. I let out a shaky breath, needing to let something go. The raw, intense emotion pulsing through me is getting stronger every day. The more it's fed, the larger it grows, consuming more and more of me until I'm afraid I'll be nothing without Pax. I shiver.
"Are you cold?" I shake my head, but he's already made a move to turn down the air conditioning. His hand rests at my thigh. "Where to?" he asks.
"The cliff."
His eyebrows shoot up. "You're going to surprise me with my own surprise?" he guesses. I make the motions of zipping my lips shut, refusing to say more. "I hope you made Paninis," he continues.
"I didn't."
"Damn. Are you planning to carry me at least?"
I make a face at him. "I'd try but you'd break my legs and that would piss Anna off."
"Hmm. She does have an extreme disregard for incompetency."
I nod. "And she would consider a broken leg highly incompetent."
"All right," he decides. "You don't have to carry me. You do have to pretend to be my slave for the rest of the night though."
"Your slave?"
"My love slave." He grins wickedly. "You can feed me grapes, rub my shoulders, bend your luscious body-"
"-and kick you in the eye socket with my toe?" I finish sweetly.
He makes a strangled sound from his throat. "Whoa, now that's just violent, little lady. Toes and eye sockets are two things we should never think about while being intimate." He shudders.
"Who says we're being intimate?"
"What kind of surprise doesn't involve being intimate?" he demands, sounding genuinely upset.
I roll my eyes and try not to smile. "The kind you'll remember forever."
He doesn't comment. I swat him in the shoulder, and he catches my hand, kissing it loudly. "No matter," he says. "As long as you're there I'll like it." His words are effortlessly charming- like him- and I decide if Pax could bottle his charisma there would be world peace, half-naked bouncing women, and international orgies in abundance.
"You're a tease," I state.
"If by 'tease' you mean I'm delightful, captivating, incredible, fabusometastic-
"Fabusometastic?"
"Fabulous, awesome, and fantastic all into one," he explains, glancing at me. "Don't you know you can smoosh up words? All the cool kids are doing it."
"That's st-"
Without warning, a loud sound comes from beside me and the car jerks to the side violently. A scream bursts forth but is abruptly cut short when my head almost hits the dashboard in front of us.
"What the fuck?" Pax yells as he fights to control the car. He's forced to swerve to the left, to avoid whoever is hitting us. Whatever is beside me is pushing us, trying to clear us from the road.
I lean back against my seat, seeing spots. My head hurts, and I wince when I touch my forehead. I see Pax glance past me. "What the hell are you doing, man?" Pax shouts, frustration and anger evident on his face. Obviously, they can't hear us. Slowly, I turn to look beside me, the movement painful to make.
The face I see inside the black car next to us causes me to stop breathing.
"Oh my God," I whisper. I'm frozen, completely filled with dread. "Oh my God."
Before I can blink the car comes at us again, hitting harder
this time.
"He's trying to kill us!" Pax snarls, looking ahead. "That fucker is crazy!"
Yes he is. The more I stare into his eyes, the angrier he's becoming. He's beyond livid. He's homicidal. Still, I can't tear my gaze away. I watch him swerve again, hitting harder each time.
"Shit!"
Suddenly, the car breaks, and I'm jerked painfully back, the seat belt cutting into my skin. Pax puts the car in reverse and it takes me a moment to notice we're moving backward. Our abrupt actions don't faze him. He follows us, putting the car in reverse too, slamming his trunk into our front.
"Get down, Jules! What if he has a gun!"
I'm too dazed to move. I can only stare with horror as his face turns back to look at me. He never breaks eye contact as he rams into our car- faster, harder. I hear wheels screeching. Lights flicker, and then a moment later, one of the lamplights stop working. For a second, his face is completely hidden by the night shadows, and the only things visible are narrow slits of angry brown eyes.
The first thought that comes to me is he doesn't look like how I remember. Then all thoughts disappear when we're hit from behind. I yell out, the impact causing my head to hit the window beside me. "Aaaah!" I scream, fighting to stabilize my body. It's no use though, Pax is in drive again and he's moving forward, pushing our attacker back.
"Get down, Jules!"
Immense pain shoots between my temples.
"Lower your head!"
Pax's large hands force my shoulders down. I wince, crying out from the pain, but he ignores it. He doesn't let off the pressure even when I hear him curse in panic. Vaguely, I realize he's driving one handed while he holds me down.
"Pax," I croak.
If he hears me, he doesn't show it. "It'll be okay, Jules. I'm going to lose him. I know this city like the back of my hand and his Minnesota license tells me he doesn't."
"Be careful," I warn him. He's dangerous. My voice is small and weak sounding. I feel a flare of embarrassment, but mostly I feel pain and shock.
"He's talking to us," Pax suddenly says.
What? I wince, when the car is jerked again. What did Pax just say?
"Well, I'm not just going to roll down my window, psycho bastard…"
Wheels turn. Tires screech. Human yells. Sirens.
"We have to get out of here," I tell Pax weakly. I remember him telling me his apartment is in the city not far from here. "Take us to your apartment!" My words burst out. "Quickly!"
"Are you crazy, Jules? We need to talk to the cops. Some psychotic asshole just tried to kill us! He pushed us onto ongoing traffic-"
"Do you trust me?" They’re the only words I can think of.
Pax gives me a strange look as if I'm crazy too. "Now isn't the time for this, Jules." His voice is calmer but I see a tick on his cheek. "We need to get that asshole's license, pull over some place safe and tell the cops what happ-"
"No!" My voice is sharp. "We can't Pax!"
"He's getting away! Grab a pen and get his damn license, Jules!"
"No!" I cry.
"Jules!" He's trying to look at me and drive at the same time. "What the hell is going on with you right now? I need you to calm down babe, and get the pen-"
"No!" I shout. "No! Don't you see? It's no use."
"What?"
I take a deep breath. I can't look at Pax when I tell him. I can't bear to see the disappointment. I can't bear to see the disgust.
My lips quiver. "He's here for me."
CHAPTER 22
Seven months earlier
They will hunt for my blood.
I know it. It's what people like them do. They're experts at it.
My hands shake. I'm a coward. What I should really do is go to the police. They killed Grandma because she saw something she shouldn't have seen. I don't think the police can protect me. Corruption is a friend to all, even those in uniforms. It seems, especially those in uniforms.
I'm afraid to trust anyone, even Braidon. He doesn't know I'm planning to leave. He would never help if he knew. Grandma always warned me men were no good; they want something in exchange for what they do for you. Always. She says when God created Eve from Adam's rib, he took a little extra. He took Adam's heart too.
Men are heartless.
After what I've seen, I know this to be true.
My hands clasp tightly at the bucket in front of me.
I'm just as sick as Braidon is.
He might be obsessive, needy and possessive, but at least he doesn't do illegal things.
I take a deep breath. I want to hurt Juan Gonzales the way he's hurt me. I want to take away what he loves the most, the way he has taken what I love the most. I want him to suffer. Sometimes my rage scares me. It comes and goes, quick little spurts that leave me trembling on the floor.
The liquid inside the can is dark and smelly. I carried it from a gas station seven miles from here. I walked and hid in the shadows. I should've been afraid to be alone in such a deserted place. I'm vulnerable and small. But the only thing that truly scares me is not going through with this. My greatest fear of all is letting them all walk free to do this again to another family, to another little girl.
Now that the moment is here, I'm not as triumphant as I thought I'd be. I'm not as angry. Hysteria threatens to burst forth. On the one night it matters the most my emotions betray me. I feel completely empty, hollow, like a broken tree.
I'm resolute even as I tremble. What I'm doing is reckless. It's dangerous. What other choice did someone like me have though? I have no money to bribe and no connections to speak of. I have nothing but my guts. As little as that might seem, it's enough for tonight.
I recount all the reasons why what I'm doing is right:
1) He killed my Grandma
2) He has killed others
3) He will kill again
4) No one will stand up to him.
There's a reason why no one dares stand up to him, a terrified part of me whispers. It's the part that aims to survive, the part that Grandma nurtured her whole life.
I push the instinct down.
Maybe tonight will be the end of it. Maybe no one will hurt anymore.
I take a determined step forward. An owl hoots nearby; it sounds close. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot it. It's golden and majestic, and if I wasn't completely numb with nerves I might have tried to get nearer. Instead, I continue walking forward, turning the bucket to the side, letting the liquid pour out. I hear the flutter of wings, and I pause again. Is the owl following me? I need it to get away. It isn't safe.
"Shoo," I whisper. "Shoo owl!"
He obviously doesn't understand because he continues to stare at me with his strange yellow eyes, peering into me like he can read my secrets.
"It's for the best," I tell him. "I have to."
He continues watching me. I feel his presence like a cloak as I walk the perimeter, making sure to add a little more on thicker patches. We're secluded and there shouldn't be another soul for miles. I stop when I reach the spot where I started.
"You need to go," I whisper, staring at the owl. "Fly away."
He looks at me like I should follow. For a moment, I want to. I want to soar into the sky and disappear behind the clouds. I want to dance on a star and never come down to green fields again.
He gives me a strange sad look and then lifts his powerful wings. I watch him fly upward. I watch him disappear the way I so desperately want to.
I'm alone in the darkness.
Suddenly, it's so thick and confining that for a moment I feel like I'm being swallowed down a pit. It's not a new feeling. I've felt like this since the moment Grandma was murdered. I wonder if the hole inside me will ever fill up. I wonder if I'm cursed to be empty until the day I pass my emptiness onto the earth. Maybe the soil can make something better of me. Maybe it will finally heal me.
Braidon's face flashes in my mind. He would be here tonight if I asked it of him.
He would go with me to Hell and back.
The scary thing is I don't think he'd feel it. He would burn with me and he wouldn't feel a damn thing.
I take out the matchbox from my jean pocket. My hands fumble with it and it falls to the ground, landing as softly as the wind. Frantic, I kneel down, my fingers wildly spreading to find it again. Stupid! Why did I have to drop it? My hands touch something silky and wet. My first instinct is to take my hand back, but I feel something stiff. The match. I breathe a sigh of relief. Standing up, I touch the match to the box. I look at what's in my hand. Small things can do so much evil. With a flick of my wrist, I light it. My fingers shake when I feel the heat.
For weeks, I've planned this night. I've gained their trust as a little orphan girl, willing to work hard for money. Lonely. Lost. Completely vulnerable for predators like them. They probably would have approached me to do more than just farm if Braidon's uncle hadn't let the word out about Braidon and me. In his own way, Braidon has taken care of me, protected me even. If I was another person and he was another man, perhaps what we had could be real. But I am myself and Braidon is not right in the head, and together we are too broken to ever be anything more than fragments.
I let the match drop.
The hiss is instant. It's strange that death and destruction is so instant when life is anything but. Even the act of giving birth to a child takes hours and hours to complete, but death is encompassing. It can take years if it desires, or one delicate moment.
Tonight, it will take five minutes.
The flames catch on the oil faster than I thought possible. It's so bright I'm afraid it will swallow the night.
I watch the farm burn. I've thought about this moment for so long. As I watch my plan come to fruition, all I can do is quiver. Everything is burning. Gonzales's empire is not large in America. This would be a huge blow to him. What I've done tonight will cost him millions. I can imagine Gonzales's face when he's realized what has happened. I can imagine his rage.
I can imagine the people I might have saved with this one act of rebellion. I try to hold onto that, but the emptiness is still there, vast and great.