by J. A. Coffey
"A definite hit and run."
"Yes." He referred back to his pad. "Car was spotted by a security officer at the airport. It lacked plates, so he called it in."
Darius considered the officer's words. "Do you think they boarded the plane?"
He shrugged. "No way to tell. Inside had been wiped clean."
All he could do at this point amounted to a sit and wait approach. "Thank you, officer, for your time. I'll let you know if anything comes back to me." He pretended to thump his temple with his palm. "It's still all a blank."
They shook hands, and Darius' room phone rang as the officer left. Hoping the nurse had good news, he rolled on his stomach across the bed to grab it. "Darius speaking." His head didn't ache at all.
He could tell by the first slurred words that his father was about three vodka deep. "You filthy backstabbing bastard. I fed you. I clothed you, and this is what I get."
"Father, I didn't-"
"You knew. You made him give you everything. You hoped I'd be dead by now, you bastard. Then you wouldn't have to share."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes closed. "Father, you're drunk, and-"
But the onslaught continued as usual. "I don't want you living here. I don't want to see your disgusting face ever again. You hear me? You ruined my life," he screamed, and Darius held away the receiver.
Now his head hurt, and the thumping in his skull seemed to take up an ascending pounding beat. "I'm hanging up now."
"I'd hang you if it were legal."
Darius cradled the receiver. His eyes burned as he stared at the bedside clock. All these years later, it still hurt. He tried to find Sensei's control as he watched the clock turn to 10:02, but lying on his stomach didn't aid in meditation. His throat tightened, and he felt like breaking down.
Jess would be at work right now. He desperately wanted to hold her, but didn't know how she'd react to seeing him again. He knew she felt as if he'd blown her off, when in reality the loss of her smile made him feel emptier than living in Beauregard's home.
He feared he'd cry if he were to ever be so lucky as to hold her in his arms again.
Another knock, and a smiling Marie entered, pushing an empty wheelchair. "Great news, time to go home."
*****
Jess halted mid-laugh at Duncan's joke when she saw Darius brush into her store. His eyes scanned the breadth of her showroom in a millisecond, and when he found her he made a beeline to her- at least, as straight a line as credenzas, gossip benches, settees, and a fainting couch would allow.
He looked agitated, agonized, disheveled, and....
Utterly delicious.
She waited and watched him approach, noting he wore different clothes from his hospital stay. A pair of black slacks hugged his hips, and his short-sleeved silver button-down did a good job of hiding his fading tan. The fact that he came here after just being released from the hospital gave her fresh hope, and the fact that her breath caught in her throat and her heart raced a little faster made her move just an increment closer to the 1930s mahogany swan-necked red velvet fainting couch.
Just in case.
His eyes had been locked on hers for the last four seconds, and he seemed to navigate the room by sonar. His fluid movement had not been compromised in the accident, something she only realized she had noticed by the resulting heat on her cheeks.
"Excuse us, please," he said with a nod to Duncan, although his eyes had not yet left hers. He grabbed her hand and marched back with her to her office.
Jess shrugged at a knowing Duncan as she allowed him to pull her away. His hand felt warm and strong and comfortable as he enveloped hers. She liked how their hands looked nestled together. "What's wrong?" she softly asked him.
He didn't answer, but squeezed her hand to say he heard. When he led her into her office, he closed the door, noticed the blinds over the window, and pulled them down to twist closed.
His maddening silence sent off an alarm in her head. She felt herself pale. "Darius?"
He drew her close without saying a word, crushing her to him, holding her tighter and tighter.
Someone else died. They must have. "Darius?"
He shook his head, and tiny hiccupping breaths told her she thought he wept.
She gripped him, feeling his agony to the bottom of her soul, but knowing instinctively that he just needed to hold her, to not be judged, to cling to this moment of salvation as if she were the only lifeline in his world right now.
She liked that idea.
Except something else had brought him here.
He sniffled or hiccupped again, and she felt a damp spot along her cheek. "It's okay, Darius, I'm here."
He fisted into her shirt, crushing her so tightly she could barely breathe. So she eased her chin off his shoulder and nestled close under his jaw. He kissed the top of her head, twice, three times, then pressed his cheek to her hair.
At first she had just stroked his back to offer him solace in his moment of need, but as his hands relaxed their death grip on her clothes, she found herself responding to the heat of his body and arms. Her hands roved over the strength of his back, his taut lithe muscles, her movements ranging somewhere between soothing and exploratory. Lucky for her he seemed too distracted to notice she enjoyed her quest.
The man was solid muscle.
She had never felt so safe.
Or so frightened by whatever scared such a strong man.
"Darius?"
He stepped away, his back to her, and snatched out a few tissues from her desktop. She glimpsed his cheeks and eyes were red, and without words Jess filled a paper cup of water for him. He nodded his thanks, tossed it back, and leaned back against her desk, eyes downward, expression grim.
She leaned against her tiny sink and waited, noting the fading green bruises on his jaw and temple, the staples nestled into his hair. She saw that most of the blood had been cleaned up, for his hair looked more like he just woke up, rather than just survived a car wreck.
He smiled, almost apologetically, then stepped near and rubbed her arms. "Let's go somewhere today. Someplace fun."
Attempting levity, she ventured, "It speaks." Then, with a lopsided grin, she added, "Did you happen to see I'm working?"
He responded to her tone, rather than her words, and he crooked a gentle smile at her, making her heart knock around with the knowledge that he still wanted to see her. "You're the boss. Take the day off. It's a Tuesday, for crying out loud."
Stunned that he was so adamant, Jess could only stare at him. "You're serious."
His eyes still displayed their red rims, and she could see that he desperately wanted to forget his moment of weakness and forge ahead. "Yes. Let's go. How about the zoo?"
Damn. It was like he nailed her weakness, kerpow. She could never turn down a trip to the zoo, and it would be good to check on the pachyderms. Her voice seemed almost breathless when she offered, "Franklin has elephants for the summer."
He laced her fingers, and she could see how much her words pleased him. Not only did he smile at their intertwined fingers, but the entire line of his shoulders seemed to relax. She liked that she could read his body language so well, something she never felt had been a particular skill when it came to men. "Perfect. Do you know how to get there?"
She groaned and offered him a guilty grin. "Unfortunately, I'm a member. And a sponsor, with the business. And a junkie, as if the other two weren't enough." She shrugged, hoping he didn't find that too gratuitous, and not sharing that the bequeathal would take her straight to corporate benefactor level.
"Great." As he pulled her out of the office, Jess grabbed her apple off the desk and waved good-bye to a smiling Duncan.
"Apparently, I'm taking a much-needed day off."
Duncan clapped and cocked his head to the front door. "That only leaves you with seventy-eight days of vacation left. Sure you want to actually use one?"
Darius called to the man behind the counter, "Arthur, you're
in charge."
"Hey," Jess complained. "You can't order my staff around like that." She turned back to Arthur. "Arthur, you're in charge."
"Glad to hear it." He grinned.
Jess couldn't help matching his smile. A day off. With Darius. At the zoo.
She just hoped his father would stay the hell away.
*****
The hour and a half ride passed by in a blur of laughter. Darius had picked her up in the Mustang convertible again. The summer wind whipped through her hair, and the sun felt amazing on her face, even though she knew she'd hate the rash of freckles she'd have by tomorrow.
Three cars, now, she knew he had. How many more? She didn't dare ask. About that, or the reason that brought him to her job. She could see it weighed on him, concerned him, but Jeremy had taught her long ago that men needed to fight their own battles. Stay out of the man cave, he told her, and when the dragon's dead, the knight will emerge.
She thought she knew what...who...the dragon was.
Her best position was to be his armor.
Stay close.
Really close.
Suddenly he pointed to the zoo sign, slowed, and turned into the lot.
At the ticket booth, Darius took out his wallet. He looked at the young girl in the window and asked, "When it says children are nine dollars, is that to rent or to buy?"
Jess laughed and elbowed him. "Ignore him. Two adults, please."
"Oh, I get it," the girl giggled. "That's funny." She printed out two tickets and slid those and a pamphlet back to Darius, along with his change.
Jess smirked and shook her head at him. "Wise guy."
He drew her to his side and kissed her crown. They passed through the turnstiles and he collected her again. "Thought it might be nice."
"What?"
"Rent a couple kids. See what it's like." He shrugged, looking off into the distance as if his words were irrelevant, but she read the tension in his lips and wondered.
When she stared at him, he squeezed her again and kissed her temple, deliberately ignoring her look. She had the definite sense that he meant every word he just said. Instead of pursuing that topic, she indicated her crown with an eye toss. "You seem to enjoy doing that."
He grinned then, slow and sensual, and when his eyes collided with hers she sensed his passion hovering just under the surface. "Just warming you up for the main event."
"Oh, really." Now she was plenty intrigued. Her heart accelerated as she imagined his lips claiming hers in the middle of a public place.
Pink raced up his cheeks as he seemed to consider his own words; two tiny thin lines. He stopped at a cotton candy vendor and bought a tri-colored bag, holding it out to her. She took a piece, still waiting for a reply.
He began a meandering pace that she matched. "Truth is... I'm a little afraid."
"Of kissing me?" She filched another piece, completely intent on hearing his thoughts. Never once had a man been so forthright with her, and the notion thrilled her to the marrow.
He burrowed into the multicolored layers and pulled out a chunk of blue. He studied it for a second, obviously focusing inward and not out. "Last time sent a jolt right through me." He didn't make eye contact. "And I don't know which is worse, the thought that it may happen again...." now he met her eyes, and she noted the simmering heat there, "or the thought that it won't."
Wow. Her kiss was electrical. And he remembered that, all these years later. She grabbed a piece of pink cotton and let it melt on her tongue. She never imagined that the man she had agonized over would have improved exponentially over the years. Darius was more intelligent, more passionate, stronger, and sexier than she ever knew a man could be, and the realization he still wanted her all these years later made her respond in a very anti-Jess manner: "Well, in the interest of science, I think you should definitely repeat the experiment. Today, preferably." She sucked on her fingers as she awaited his response. Who was this woman, speaking so boldly? She might not know herself, but she knew that she still wanted him. And the fact that Darius had returned to her of his own volition, that he still wanted her after her assumed break-up call, made her feel wanton, reckless.
Dangerous, that. She trod on new terrain, feeling as if she created herself as she went. Was this the woman she was always meant to be? The one denied her by Darius' absence?
He waggled his brows and stepped an increment closer, making her body heat with his nearness. His British accent leapt to the fore when he said, "Purely for scientific research, then. No emotion should be tied into the results."
"Of course not." She grinned at his accent and wondered what brought it on. She took some comfort in knowing this particular experiment would be based completely on emotion, and hopefully for both of them.
"Good." He nodded as if they had come to a difficult agreement and continued with his pronounced accent. "Today, then. When the atmospheric conditions are appropriate for experimentation."
God, her cheeks couldn't get any warmer. Her freckles felt like tiny pinpricks of fire.
He tweaked her chin and winked and looked around the zoo. "Which animals do you like best?" Now he sounded like his usual self. He must have relaxed. That meant he was nervous then, too. The realization made her whole body flutter and smile.
"Big cats, butterflies, and oh, the toucans." She reached into her bag and produced the apple. "They catch fruit if you toss it to them. They know me, too. I've been doing it for years."
"Marvy. Let's go there first."
Outside the cage, Jess held up her apple, making sure no one was around who would turn her in. She bit off a chunk and waited for the male to descend. She tossed it through the long bars, and he watched it fall. She bit another, and that one hit the rail and dropped. Third time made it through, and he caught it.
The next few times went as well. Then, the male took one and tossed it to his mate, who caught it.
By now a crowd had gathered, clapping and oohing and aahing. Fearing a guided tour to the exit, Jess spun away, chomping the rest of her apple.
Warm breath on her ear told her just how close Darius stood when he chuckled, "That was awesome."
Insanely pleased by his reaction, she could only say, "My hands are sticky." She pointed to a water fountain that had seen many of her apple-hand-washing episodes and cleaned herself up.
"Big cats next?" he suggested.
He moved like a panther, and she could see his attraction to them. And although she sensed a predatory side to him, it had never surfaced long enough to make her flee. "Actually," she shook off her hands to dry, "I'd like to see the elephants, while they're still here."
If he was disappointed, he never showed it. "Sure. Where do you think they are?"
Her gaze floated to his pocket. "Is there a map in the pamphlet the fawning giggly girl gave you?"
His mouth opened in a shocked smile. "Oh, Jess, that smacks a bit of jealousy."
With a haughty tone she sniffed, "Nonsense. She's barely sixteen."
His eyes sparkled with his taunt. "The age you were when you fawned all over me."
She stopped, cocked out a hip to challenge him. "Oh, no, mister, I think that was when you fawned over me."
He fumbled out the map, making far too much noise for the task. "Don't be ridiculous." He opened it up, covering his face. "I was seventeen."
Everything he uttered made her giddy. "How silly of me."
He lowered it and smiled warmly at her. Then pulled the map smartly over his face again. "Nope, atmospheric conditions are definitely not yet right."
As if she needed another reminder. The thrill of anticipation shivered down her spine.
"Here, by the antelope and zebras." He lowered it and pointed to the oversized figures on the page. "Go figure. Do you think they'll remember each other? Swap stories of their grandpas, back home on the savannah?"
She vehemently shook her head. "Not at all. I have it on good authority that elephants don't speak to any life form that can't knock down trees
." She grinned at him, waiting for his response.
"Ah." He scanned the map. "No rhinos, then. The elephants, I fear, are to be terribly bored here." He winked and folded the map and then placed her fingers in the crook of his elbow. "Which way, Princess?"
She liked the nicknames he gave her, just like Jeremy. She found them endearing, and, well, comfortable. One could only go so far with "hon." She pointed to the trail. "There."
Being Tuesday, the crowd was small. Three pachyderms muddled around the field where spring and autumn children's games were usually held, along with other fundraisers. It seemed strange watching the beasts plod over areas where she had bid on auction items or cheered her nieces in sack-races or even handed-out slushie cones to handicapped children.
Two elephants were being led in for ten dollar rides. The third, a juvenile, seemed content to swish though the tree branches lying on the ground.
They leaned on the iron railing surrounding the pen and looked down into the fifteen foot ditch protecting them from the pachyderms. "Have you ever ridden an elephant?"
"No," Jess answered. "And I don't want to, either. Kind of afraid of the height. I'll stick to horses."
He raised his chin. "I had one, growing up."
"An elephant?"
He gave her a tilted look before his expression turned thoughtful and he gazed into the past.
She was not surprised, of course, but laughed at his face and asked, "What kind? What happened?"
"I was three or four. She was a Welch pony, dainty and small. I called her Tinker. By the time I was ten I was pretty much outgrowing her. At least, that's what I was told. I really think dad sold her after mom died," he spared a dark look, "to pay off some of his debts."
Darkness consumed him at moments like these, and she wanted to offer some support without being clingy. With her fingertips she touched his forearm and was rewarded with the knowledge that his arm hair was very soft. "I'm sure she got a good home."