JUMP (The Senses)

by Cindy Paterson

  Admitting he’d returned for more than that was a harsh reality to face. His return to Toronto was for Danielle. He knew from the day he walked away from her that it would be impossible to stay absent from her life. Even if it were from a distance, he had to make certain she was shielded from the reality of the world she walked in.

  He’d hoped to return and see the fight in Danielle’s eyes. The fight he’d seen that first day he met her in hell. But she’d been tormented and he was to blame. Revealing the Senses to her would seal his fate—instant death. No human could have knowledge of the immortal Senses unless Waleron gave the okay. That was unlikely, considering Waleron was the most cold-hearted man who walked the earth. He wouldn’t give a shit if Danielle was suffering. God, her memory loss was due to Waleron.

  He attuned his acute senses to Danielle’s apartment and smelled the scent of water. The light to the bathroom was on and he caught a glimpse of her walk past the door with a towel around her. He closed his eyes, turned away and walked down the alley.

  Chapter 3

  “Oh, get on with it, show-off.” Danielle rolled her eyes as Jedrik pondered his next shot, eyes pensive, stance casual as he leaned on his pool cue.

  He raised his brows, shooting her a haughty glance. “Sweet cakes, keep that forked tongue inside that luscious mouth of yours. You’re disrupting my concentration.” His disarming smile dazzled as he raised his cue parallel to the green felt table. “This is an art.”

  “Ha. If this were art, I’d be killing you. Shoot the bloody ball.” Danielle leaned her hip against the side of the table, her pool cue in one hand, the other holding a pint of Stella.

  Jedrik chuckled. He took aim and shot the white ball. It slammed into the red solid, which banked off the right and then sank into the side pocket. He grinned, eyes shinning triumph. “Brilliant.” He puffed his chest out like a proud lion after mating.

  Danielle ran her hand down her face. It was their third game and soon to be his third win. Shit, and she’d prided herself on her game. He was creaming her; numerous striped balls still sat on the table. Was this guy bad at anything?

  “I can’t paint worth a damn.” Jedrik rubbed chalk on the tip of his cue.

  “Excuse me?” Danielle’s hand tightened on her glass. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  Jedrik shrugged. “See it in your expression, sweet pea. A woman’s face is like reading a book. Can see everything written right before my magnificent eyes.”

  Danielle huffed. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t dawdle, Mr. Smarty pants. Try to sink that green ball so I can have a go.”

  Jedrik did just that. A tough double-bank shot and he made it appear effortless. This was becoming tiresome considering she never had the opportunity to take a shot.

  She watched Jedrik blow on the tip of his cue and then stride around the table to position himself for his next ball-sinker.

  She was glad she had come out tonight. Jedrik was easy to get along with, once past the initial overconfident charm. She’d noticed women all evening glancing his way and he returned their interest with a charismatic grin. With their flirty wiles, women were pleading with him to take them home for the night. Maybe he had the knack to woo any woman, but she guessed he was all show. Not the confidence—no, he had that in spades—but a hint of loneliness as if he had to prove he was worthy enough.

  “Ladies room bellows,” Danielle said. “And no cheating.” She heard his chuckle as she set her Stella on the bar table and her pool cue beside it and then headed for the bathroom.

  The pub was crowded being Tuesday and wing night. Hockey played on the big-screen televisions, and men hooted and hollered between chugging back their pints, or rather pitchers, of beer.

  She wore a forest-green turtleneck, jeans and her hair pulled back in a clip; messy and casual with a few strands escaping. She felt uneasy with so many men, but she figured it was a damn good way to get over her constant edginess around them. Jump right in with both feet. Always been her way, so all she needed to do was get her confidence back.

  She kept her gaze averted from the drunken leering eyes; instead her mind swirled with images of the man from her dreams. Since he’d walked into her gallery three nights ago, she’d been unable to sleep. She found herself swearing at him even though he couldn’t hear her. Anger surged, growing every day at his callousness in walking away. But meshed with anger was emptiness. What sucked even more was every time she went into the back alley behind her place, she swore she smelled his scent lingering.

  Someone grabbed her arm and she was pulled to a stop. The pungent smell of the culprit wafted into her as if he’d spent the afternoon in a dumpster. The thirty-something man had an abnormally long neck and a case of bad acne scarring. His dead-straight raven hair was oily and his eyes were wide, round and reminded her of a buzzard.

  “Get your filthy hands off me.” Danielle attempted to dislodge his slimy hand from her arm, but he was having none of it and he had the muscles as proof, which sucked for her.

  Two men seated at his table laughed, and Mr. Turkey sneered. His fingers dug into her flesh and she cringed at the sight of his filthy fingernails. He rose from his chair and her gag reflex erupted as his scent grew stronger. She wondered how his friends managed to sit at the same table with him. As she gave them a quick once-over, she knew why; they looked just as appalling and had matching long necks—a family trait that required an abomination of the gene.

  “Perfect.” He leaned closer and she held her breath. “You’re just what Kentar ordered for tonight. Human.”

  What a dick-wade. “I’m not for sale.” She sure as hell hadn’t dressed sluttish.

  “Oh, he doesn’t pay. He takes what he wants.” His fingers tightened as he turned to his buddies. “Well, boys, looks like I win. Kentar will be pleased, a human with the scent of a Senses all over her.”

  She cast a quick glance over at Jedrik, who, to her aggravation, was chatting up some petite redhead with a real petite skirt. His back was to her with his pool cue in one hand and his Bombay and tonic in the other.

  Her big mouth wasn’t going to do her any good in this situation, better not to piss off a drunk. Another tactic was in order, considering his grip was anchoring her to the floor.

  She was so going to hate this.

  She cocked her hip and moved in closer to Mr. Turkey and gave a sultry smile. She raised her hand and ran her index finger along the man’s jaw. Her stomach revolted, and she swallowed to keep from spewing her Stella all over the front of his shirt; although that would be a glorious sight.

  “Sounds like a good time. Where we headed?” she asked.

  He grinned and she expected to see rotting teeth, but they were pearly white. Well, at least he had one good habit. “Somewhere real sweet,” he replied.

  His steel grip loosened, and it was what she was waiting for. It was either that or scream wildly and have everyone in the bar involved. A last resort. First plan—she clenched her free hand into a fist and, with one swing, belted the guy in the stomach. When he bent over in pain, she raised her knee and hit him square in the nose.

  He released her arm while his buddies roared with laughter, and she took flight before the turkey had the chance to recover.

  Without looking back, she ran into the washroom. As soon as the door closed, she realized her mistake. Trapped. No window, only one way in or out. Damn, she should’ve gone back to Jedrik and asked to leave. Okay, he wouldn’t follow into the woman’s . . .

  The door burst open, hitting the wall, and her breath caught in her throat. Hell, her horseshoe was obviously sunk in the mud—deep.

  The broad-shouldered Turkey-ox stood with a powerful stance, blocking any opportunity to escape. She gradually backed away, fear magnifying as the massive beast’s golden eyes glinted with victory.

  “You think to make me look the fool in front of others, woman?” He made a dive for her and she ran for the last stall, slamming the door and attempting to slide the lock across just
as his fist crashed into it.

  She cried out, stumbling backwards as the corner of the door hit her temple.

  “You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not,” he said, entering the tiny space and barricading her inside. Panic surged. Trapped. Unable to move.

  No. Over her dead body, literally.

  She raised her arms and curled her fingers into fists, ready to fight, although knowing it was futile against the bulky Turkey-neck, but everything inside told her to rebel, don’t give up. Never give up. If she screamed loud enough, someone was bound to hear.

  Suddenly, the man went flying backwards through the air and smashed into the mirror above the sinks. Glass crashed to the floor, shards landing in every direction. His body hit the sink and then fell to the floor in an awkward heap. A violent hiss passed his lips before he lay unconscious.

  Danielle stood immobilized, staring at Mr. Turkey and the splatter of blood pooled on gray tiles. She stepped out of the stall expecting to find Jedrik, instead she found herself staring into rainforest-green eyes.

  Danielle gasped, her heart skipping a beat. “You.”

  His eyes flashed a red hue, and his mouth was pursed into a tight, firm line. He looked enraged to the point where she stepped back and wished like hell she had some kind of weapon. And she had kissed this guy? He looked like a wild animal after another had attempted to steal his prey. Clenched hands, stance wide and a cool exterior that could make boiling water turn to ice.

  “Never be unprepared again,” he said with a low growl, his lip curling upward like a snarl. He reached into his boot and pulled out a knife.

  Danielle’s breath halted and she staggered back.

  His eyes narrowed at her obvious fear and he sighed, relaxing his shoulders and turning the knife so the handle was directed at her. “Use it. I won’t always be near, little one.” He nodded to the groaning form on the floor. “You have no idea what he is or what he is capable of. And you’d like his friends even less.”

  She hesitated long enough for him to react. He strode towards her and grabbed her hand, placing the cold steel weapon in her grasp.

  His head jerked to the door and without another word he turned away.

  “Your name?” Danielle called before he disappeared from view. “At least give me that.”

  He hesitated, looking as if he’d refuse her request. “Balen,” he said and then he vanished out the door.

  Knife in her palm, she stood frozen, looking down at the wickedly sharp steel blade. The polished black grip had deep finger grooves, making it easily sit in her hand. She’d never held a weapon like this before, razor sharp, deadly and making her butcher knives look like spatulas. On the far right, scratched into the surface was his name—Balen.

  The door burst open and Jedrik stood on the threshold, stance fierce, eyes sweeping over her and the body lying on the floor, all within milliseconds.

  “Where’s the other guy?” Jedrik asked, eyes alert with a disconcerting glare. When she didn’t reply right away he asked again, this time his voice deeper with a sense of urgency. “The other guy, I saw him come in. Where’d he go?”

  She looked at the knife and then back at Jedrik. “He left.” Again.

  Jedrik nodded to the knife. “And that?”

  She attempted to close the blade into the handle, while she acted nonchalant. “Umm, nothing.” Her voice quivered and she knew Jedrik heard it. She had no idea why she lied, and she was terrible at it, but Jedrik didn’t say anything. “It’s late and I have clients coming tomorrow.” Another lie. Right now she’d say anything to leave.

  He nodded and reached for the knife she was still struggling to close. He waited patiently until she grudgingly handed over the weapon. He snapped it into the safety position and passed it back. He leaned in close and whispered, “If you ever need to use it, go for the neck.”

  Danielle stiffened. He gestured towards the man on the floor, who was beginning to groan and writhe in pain. “Want me to nail him one in the groin?”

  She gave a half-smile. “No, he’ll suffer enough with the mother of all headaches.”

  Jedrik shrugged. “Fine, but next time some foul-smelling buffoon follows you into the bathroom, scream your bloody head off or take his head off. Whichever.”

  ****

  By the time Jedrik had dropped her off at home, it was one in the morning and she was wide awake. The scene from the bar still haunted her mind. He’d appeared out of nowhere. How had he known she was there? Was he following her? Watching? No way in hell was him being at the bar a coincidence.

  She touched the knife in her back pocket. Pepper spray she could handle, but a knife? Was she expected to stab some guy just for scaring her?

  Was Balen watching her now?

  Danielle walked through her gallery and opened the back door. She peered into the alley and stepped outside. The wind gripped her body as if a hand were pushing her backwards towards the safety of her place. She tilted forward against the cold and stepped out. Another gust pounded into her as she moved down the snow-covered alley.

  She tugged the collar of her olive-green ski jacket around her neck as the cold seeped into her skin as if the wind wanted her to go back inside. She pushed on, determined to see if he had followed her home. She peered up at her bedroom window, which looked out onto the alley. From here he could watch her movements easily.

  A Dumpster sat on the left and several more a few feet away. Hiding spots were limited and besides, he’d be crazy to stand out here in the freezing cold.

  Snowflakes began to fall, blowing into her face, and she cursed with frustration. He wasn’t here.

  She turned to head back and slammed right into a brick wall of warmth.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and deadly.

  Danielle took a step back from his chest. “Looking for you.”

  “It’s not safe. Get inside before you get hurt.”

  He scolded her like a child and she never took that well. In school, her teachers discovered that pretty damn fast. Her parents believed that scolding children was for the weak-minded and instead discussed issues rationally and encouraged her to be inquisitive. Needless to say, some teachers didn’t take well to a child refusing to do as they were told without question. Another reason the principal’s office became a familiar setting.

  Her back up and her pride magnifying, she glared back at him. “Either come inside and spill your guts or disappear. And I mean for good. Don’t protect me, don’t follow me and sure as hell don’t kiss me.”

  He stood immobile, stance wide, blocking the wind and snow from slamming into her. The air was warming by the second, his heat radiating off his body and into her own. She yearned to wrap herself around him and have his mouth stop the words that were inevitable.

  “Nothing to say?” Danielle said. “Well, then, get lost.” She turned, intent on continuing her walk down the alley just to spite him. Following his orders was the last thing she’d do.

  She managed ten steps—she counted—before his voice rose over the howling wind. “I was there.”

  She closed her eyes and raised her fist to her mouth, smothering her cry. She willed the tears away, knowing that tonight she’d discover what happened to her two years ago.

  His scent came up behind her, and she felt his hands on her shoulders as he gently pulled her around. He lowered her hand from her mouth and cupped her chin.

  “I was there,” he repeated.

  And then she saw the glistening in his eyes. Any anger was swept away with the bitter wind in one moment. He knew what she’d been through, knew what had happened, and had lived with the pain for the past two years just as she had.

  “Cages. We were in cages hanging from the ceiling. You were so brave. God, you were brave.”

  She stifled her cry, her mind reeling with confusion, searching for some sort of memory. The sound, a chain cranking, a cage being lowered, fear coursing through her veins, knowing pain would come again.

&
nbsp; A voice sounded from the end of the alley. “Green Eyes, don’t.”

  Both of them tensed at the voice, and his arm wrapped around her waist and drew her up next to him. Footsteps crunched under the snow until a figure appeared clothed in a long black leather coat that billowed out behind her with each steady step.

  Danielle straightened her spine as the woman came into full view. Shit, she was stunning. Not model beauty, no, she was only about five foot three and her hair required 911-style, but naturally stunning. Her hair was cropped short with jagged edges that reached an inch below her chin. Her catlike eyes gleamed a harsh brown, piercing and determined. Her features were sharp and her skin was a flawless almond color. South American, maybe, or Spanish; whichever, the woman was captivating.

  “Who are you?” Danielle looked from the woman to Balen, wondering if this was maybe his wife. The thought sat like a bucket of lard in her stomach. Okay, he was way out of her league anyway. That had never stopped her before, but no question this woman looked as if she could handle a Mr. Turkey-neck with one hand and, if she and Balen were involved, well . . . What was she thinking? The woman could have him. All she wanted were answers.

  The woman stopped several feet from them, eyes never once leaving Balen. A standoff. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “He knows you’re back. And there are complications, Green Eyes.” Her voice was harsh, like sandpaper scratching a marble slab.

  “What kind?” His arm tightened around her waist.

  Danielle was impressed with the woman. She looked intrepid with her steady stance and unblinking eyes. “Who are you?” Danielle asked again.