He disconnected and I collapsed onto Jesse's chest, his breathing labored and heartbeat slow. "Jess, I'm so scared. Please don't die."
A black van raced up the hill and skidded within inches of where we lay. Two men I didn't recognize jumped from the van, just as Moose rounded the side of the building, out of breath. The two unknown men leaned over Jesse, one holding a medical bag. Moose lifted me and I twisted inside his locked arms calling for Jesse, until someone held a cloth over my mouth.
Muffled voices rambled in the background, the cool, damp rag across my forehead drifting a memory forward.
"Jordan," I mumbled.
"She's coming around. Get me some water. Miss Davis?"
The face belonged to one of the strangers from the van. My eyes finally opened wide enough for me to recognize my surroundings. I lay on the sofa in Jesse's penthouse. In the corner sat a man in a black T-shirt with the word SECURITY stretched over a massive chest. No expression existed on his face, but when I rose, he immediately shifted in his chair ready to lunge in my direction. The man talking, wearing a black jacket with a medic patch, tried to push me back into the pillows. I eased into the bend of the sofa, dragged my knees to my chest and raised my hand in defense.
"You need to stay still until the anesthesia wears off." My brows touched. "Necessary measures," he answered my unasked question.
I rubbed my temples, willing the fogginess in my head to go away. "What's going on? Where's Brittany and Alex?"
"Asleep in your suite," answered Milo.
The baritone voice boomed from the corner chair. "Anyone watching them?"
"Brody's there. He'll keep us informed."
Moose walked into the room dismissing everyone and sending Milo in search of a pop machine I knew didn’t' exist. I said nothing, sensing a reason he needed to talk to me alone. My stomach did its usual calisthenics routine preparing for bad news and I wrapped my arms tighter around my folded legs.
He sat precariously on the coffee table across from me, and I worried the cheap furniture wouldn't support his massive body. As if reading my thoughts, he jiggled the table slightly and smiled.
"Sturdier than I thought."
"How's Jesse?"
"He's fine. A few stitches, but no major damage. He'll be sore and grouchy for a few days, but otherwise all right. We found the creeps who attacked you and things are taken care of."
Slowly, I twisted and perched on the edge of the sofa cushions. "I shot at them. Did anyone get hurt?"
"Only Jesse, but we have a bigger problem." He slapped an envelope on the table. "I don't know if these are directed to Jesse or you. We're scrambling to stop them from posting to cyber news sites before morning."
I tipped the envelope up and six color digital prints fanned across the table: Jesse and I eating dinner on the roof café at Flannigan's on Main Street…only we weren't eating. My hand pressed Jesse's cheek, his lips fastened tightly to mine, his hand at the base of my throat. Another shot showed Jesse holding me in the air—a playful catch after he snuck up behind me just outside the parking terrace. His mouth on my neck? Not so playful.
Two pictures taken through the penthouse window burned my cheeks hot, knowing Moose had already seen them. Jesse's hand up my back, my shirt in his fist, blue-checkered bra exposed. The second, his hand cupped my butt, held me against his knee—both with undeniable positioning of mouths locked together.
The next picture was eerie and both Moose and I exchanged a fearful look—me walking the edge of the hot tub behind a misty curtain. If my bright orange bikini didn't appear to glow, I would have appeared a ghostly apparition against a black backdrop.
The last picture showed Jesse and me dancing on the grass wrapped in each other's arms, right before the stabbing. I gulped down the panic squeezing my throat shut.
"Who took these?"
"We're not sure. At first, we thought a fan groupie followed the two of you, but the picture of you by the spa—"
"Brittany and Alex were there. Why aren't they in the picture?"
"Precisely. It appears you, not Jesse, may be whom the photographer targeted."
"Why?"
Moose tapped one of the digital prints taken through the penthouse window. "Your pink band—his yellow. I'm guessing taboo?" Each picture clearly identified the "taboo" around our wrists in vivid color.
Spies? Chuck would freak if he saw these. I picked up the one exposing my bra. Rick would kill me, hunt down Jesse and dismember him—or at least a part of him. But worse? Jordan would magnify "ballistic."
"You don't think the guys who stabbed Jesse could be responsible?"
"No. It appears the scumbags you encountered were only stupid drunks. We figure this is personal." Moose looked at ornamental clock on the wall, ticking away one disaster and bringing us closer to the next one."
"Marli, here's how this will play out. Pay attention because I only have a few minutes to fill you in, after which we can never discuss this again. First, there was no shooting. Second, no gun exists. And third, you were asleep here in the penthouse, waiting for Jesse to return from band practice. Nothing happened, nor can you say anything about this to whomever asks, including your friends and family…not only this weekend, but forever."
"What about the pictures?"
"Managed. If asked, deny being Jesse's date, but if at all possible, say nothing and avoid the press junkets."
Managed. Who would "manage" Jordan when he found out?
Moose leaned closer. "Marli, you're going to have to trust me." The phrase had been said so much the past few months I found myself repeating it before he spoke the words.
"Jordan's going to be beyond angry." But with whom…Jess? Or me.
He shrugged his shoulders sympathetically. "Sorry, wish there was a way to control that fallout."
"I have to tell him before this explodes." I stared out the window at the blackness, considering. Another complication surfaced in my mind. "What about the concert?"
"Jesse's insisting we go ahead with the performance."
"What? Is he insane? Stupid question."
Moose's mouth curled with a light chuckle. "He wants to fulfill our contract with the resort to avoid any unwanted attention. We're booked with three other bands, but we have first billing. We'll leave after our set, so make sure you girls are packed. The sooner we're out of here, the better."
I questioned my friends monitoring and he explained that due to Brittany's involvement with The Program, they decided to take precautions, just in case something else developed. I couldn't handle any more developments. Moose also informed me that tonight I couldn't leave Jesse's suite.
When I quizzed him about the men in the van and the personality challenged "bulldog," another slight smile stretched his mouth. They were the security team Jesse's family paid to keep him out of the limelight as much as possible. I guessed if these pictures hit the cyber world, there would be a new security team.
"They only know what they're told. Tonight, Mike handled things."
"Wizard. Milo and Brody don't know the real story either, do they? That's why you sent Milo on an impossible errand. There's no pop machine on the second floor." Moose regarded me carefully, lips pushing to a straight line, confirming my suspicions.
"They think Jess got mugged on his way to check the equipment trailer."
"Who knows about the photos?"
"The security team, Mike, and the two of us. Jesse hasn't seen them."
"And Jordan?"
He blew a heavy sigh. Damn!
The door clicked when the security code cleared. Moose gave me a look and I understood. This conversation officially ended. I tucked the pictures under my arm and raced for Jesse's bedroom.
"Find me a receptor, Moose. I have to do my own damage control."
I gasped when I passed in front of the dresser mirror and my hands shook as I slowly opened my jacket, revealing the rusty color of old blood, soaked into the middle of my pink top. If someone saw the size of the stain acr
oss my chest, they'd think I'd been shot. Dried blood matted in my hair and crusted between my fingers. The palm of my left hand and over my wrist sported a gnarly case of "road rash." A gross purply-green bruise formed on the side of my right hand and my right elbow stung.
All of a sudden, I felt every ache, every sting as if it just happened. My visual recognition showed my brain exactly where to hurt and underneath, panic surfaced. What kind of mysterious world had I fallen into? Fresh tears heaved from reserves somewhere in my body and I slumped to the floor.
The door squeaked open. Moose towered over me, a look of horror in his eyes. "Marli? What can I do?"
My neck cranked backward to see his face. "I need to talk to Jordan. Now."
He lifted me by my forearms—new bruises I feared, helping me to the foot of the bed. He handed me Jesse's cell receptor—the one I talked to Mike on when the universe fell.
"Call Jordan from this one. Mike keeps the frequencies scrambled so no one can trace the calls. It's for special situations like tonight."
"Figures," I whispered. I studied the large belt buckle close enough to see the button. The same one Jesse had on his belt—the one he made sure he pushed before doing anything else.
"Moose? What's that?"
He sucked a breath. "It's a 'panic button' of sorts. When pushed, it sends a signal to whomever is closest. It also works as a homing device with coordinates, in case one of us—"
"Disappears? Anything else? Cars with wings?" I rode in both Jordan's Porsche and Jesse's Ferrari. There could have been a switch labeled "wings."
Moose shook his head. "Let me know if you need anything. In one of the cabinets in the bathroom is a first aid kit for your arm, and you'll find clean T-shirts in the top drawer. Oh, and if you push #1 on the receptor on the nightstand, it will buzz in the living room. Otherwise, I'll leave you alone until morning."
I followed him to the door, locking it after he walked out. No more surprises. I was done.
I inched myself into a hot shower, every muscle ache yielding to the warmth. The sting from the spray hitting the raw skin on my hands and knees stole my breath. Rust-colored water circled the drain, the coppery smell of blood overpowering in the steam, and I fought back a wave of nausea. Several scrubbings later, I emerged clean—black and blue, but clean.
Jesse's T-shirts almost reached my knees, giving me some modesty, but two layers were necessary to hide the parts of me illegal for public display. I tugged the collars to my nose. The scent from the bottle of cologne tucked in the drawer, the same fragrance Jordan used, lingered in the cotton. At the moment, I couldn't say who the sensuous scent made me long for more; Jordan or Jesse.
Easing between the cool sheets, I sank into the downy pillows. My lungs filled deeply and exhaled slowly. The bright light of the receptor illuminated the red rash on my arm. I crumpled the cologne-laced shirt against my nose and touched the tiny square on the cell labeled "Jordan."
His voice sounded thick and sleepy. I'd have given my soul to be asleep in his arms. Again, I wished for video transmission, but there were no other buttons on the spy phone.
"Jesse!" I'd startled him awake using the "secret cell."
"No, it's me," I whispered. "Sorry I scared you, but I need to talk to you."
"Marli! How, why—"
"Why am I using Jesse's 'secret decoder' receptor?" Silence ensued and I worried my inside joke wasn't well received.
"To be honest—yes." Another moment of silence. "What going on? Where's Jesse? You wouldn't be calling from this receptor if something hasn't happened. Spill it—now!"
I wielded an equally snarky reply. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Oh, and yes, I miss you too. What's that? Happy Birthday? I love you, Marli? Or is that only for regular calls?"
"Marli, of course I love you, but I'm scared to death of what you're about to tell me. I've been calling you all night to wish you 'happy birthday,' however someone's not answering her receptor."
"I left it in my room." I held my breath, realizing what I said.
"Where are you, Marli? It's four o'clock in the morning in New York." Stated, not questioned. I heard his jaw clamp. He knew where I was.
"Jesse's penthouse." Stated quick—like ripping off a band-aid.
"Tell me you're joking. You said you ended things, Marli."
"Nothing about tonight is a joke, believe me. But before I say anything else, Jordan, I need you to swear you'll stay calm."
"Don't ask the impossible."
When my silence demanded the promise, he said he'd try, but nothing more. I, in turn, guaranteed him I'd ended things with Jess. I pulled a deep breath and held it a moment wishing its release would cushion my next revelation. I squeezed my damp lashes tight, wringing out the tears bubbled in the corners of my eyes, and let out a long, shaky breath.
"Jordan…Jesse and I were attacked tonight. Jesse got stabbed, but he's okay."
"WHAT? Stabbed! What about you? Damn!"
The infamous "f-bomb" Jordan seldom used preceded the shit, shit, shit, and punctuated the end of one rant, which emptied into another about how he'd warned Jesse to not let anything happen to me.
I folded my knees so tight against my chest I could barely breathe and my thumb throbbed from my teeth clamped in a vice around the knuckle. Water poured from my eyes and nose as I listened, hearing the unmistakable fear in Jordan's tone wrap the angry words until his voice disappeared behind the heavy heartbeat thrumming in my ears.
"Stop! Please listen to me for a second." I could hear his forced breaths, but he remained silent. "Jesse did protect me, twice. Once in an award-winning performance as an 'ass,' trying to get me to storm out on him, and again when the drunks came at us."
"So he did try to force you to leave. He said something about that the other day, but I knew he couldn't pull it off. He cares too much. Please tell me he didn't do anything inappropriate?"
The pictures would answer that question and my lack of response forced an another ugly oath from Jordan. Cautiously moving to my side, I hissed against a sudden jab of pain.
"Babe? Are you all right?" His jaw crunched in my ear. "You never did answer my question. Did you get hurt?"
"My hip is sore where I fell, but it's the bruises on my hand and elbow that kill. I must have been holding the gun too tight when I fell."
"GUN? What on earth were you doing with a gun?"
"Trying to shoot the guy who stabbed Jesse."
"It was LOADED? Hell Marli, you could have killed someone! I can't believe Jesse was so careless! Carrying a loaded gun while with you? You could have been—"
Wizard broke in on the call, placing me in a holding pattern of uncertainty. I started a mental countdown. Around sixty-three, a voice, strained, speaking through measured breaths hissed in my ear.
"I'm booking the next flight to get you the hell out of there and away from Jesse before you do anything else stupid."
"Did you just call me 'stupid?'"
"No, I said what you did was and I'll add reckless, selfish, and deceitful. Tell me love, is Jesse's hearing gone? Can he only read lips? From what I'm seeing on this digital file Mike forwarded, you have a peculiar way of ending relationships. Kiss off is something you take literally. I can see how heart wrenching this was for you. Cute bra, by the way. Don't think I've seen that particular one. Maybe you bought it especially for Jesse?"
"That's enough, Mason."
"Why, Davis? Too uncomfortable for you? Imagine how I must feel—no wait. Imagine how I will feel when these go public in a few hours." His voice dropped to a quiet calm. "How could you do this to me, Marli?"
The cell receptor went dead. He'd hung up on me!
Emotions rose too fast to evade with Jordan's declaration. Him being angry I understood and even his fear I could handle, but hurt? I was totally unprepared for the assault of guilt that crumbled my defenses. I swallowed down the painful burn in the back of my throat, forbidding the floodgates to open.
When the cell rang seconds later a
nnouncing "Jordan," I jumped, losing the breath I desperately needed to sound remotely normal. I didn't give him a chance to speak.
"None of those pictures are what they seem, Jordan. Even the hot tub one is wrong. Brit and Alex were there—no boys."
His response came fast, his voice tight. "That's the only picture you're not latched onto Jesse's mouth, or his hands attached to your body. You've no idea what you've done."
"I didn't do anything! I told you, I'm through with Jess, although you don't seem to care that your twin brother could have died defending my honor! I think you should point your accusing finger into your chest. You're the epitome of selfish!
"Don't even try and put this on me, Marli. I've made a decision, one you won't like, but right now, I don't give a fuck."
"Whoa!" The little hair on the back of my neck that coiled into a tight spring right before bad things happen, pinched. "What do you mean?"
Jordan's tone remained brusque, unforgiving. "You're officially eighteen. I'm making this setup permanent and if you need "tradition," we'll fly straight to Vegas and be married by morning. Anything to keep from losing my mind constantly worrying about you."
Immediately I recognized the dangerous, powerful feeling swelling inside. Not joy…far from it. Anger boiled to rage with frightening speed. I propped myself against the headboard, stunned.
"Pardon? Is that your pathetic excuse of a marriage proposal? A 'marry me or else' load of garbage! Well, someone catch me, please—I'm swooning in all the hearts and roses!"
I tried to temper the seething emotions bouncing inside, but it proved useless. "Setup? So that's all we are? A 'set up?' Forget this, Jordan. Forget you! I wouldn't marry you if my life depended on it."
"It probably does! I can hardly wait to see what kind of trouble you get into when you go to Italy with the Italian Stallion, although judging by past performances, he's in for one hell of a send-off!"
I gasped and all the guilt overwhelming me mere seconds ago, disappeared.
"You're such an ass! A control-freaking ass! You have no right deciding anything for me—ever! I've had enough. I'm through with this craziness—all of it! To hell with The Program…and you! We're done, Jordan Mason. Done! Done! Done! Never call me again!"
Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut Page 23