We pull up to gate that leads to my private estate in Idaho Springs. It sits on twenty acres of mountain, forest and numerous streams. I feel relief to be home and no longer strung up and being beaten by the men who are now lying lifeless in their own pool of blood. Jesse punches in the code that opens the gates and we drive up the lengthy lane, pulling around in the circle drive and parking right in front.
Jenner, my right-hand man of the house, who has been with me since Jesse and I were little shits, is waiting for me at the door. He’s an older man in his mid-sixties who knows a lot more than how to open doors and coat check. When I say he is my right hand man in the house, I mean he’s is a retired CIA who knows how to execute with perfect precision. He is the guard and keeper of my home. He makes sure not only am I taken care of, but the house as well. Any unwelcomed visitors are greeted by a not so nice Jenner.
“Wesley,” he nods getting a good look at me as I walk inside. “Do you need me to call Doc right away?”
“No. It’s too late, or early, or whatever. Call him in a few hours,” I tell him not even looking back.
I just want to shower, eat, and pass out for a little bit. I’ll stay up until the good doc is here, but as soon as he is gone, I am going to sleep until tomorrow. I am not dumb. In the shape I’m in, I won’t get far without resting. I know I can’t just keep going and going.
I get to the stairs and take one look and shake my head. Nope. That is not going to happen. No way am I going to make it up there. I turn around to call out for Jenner, but he and Jesse are standing a few feet behind me holding some essentials. Jesse with all of my electronic necessities, and Jenner with a pillow and blanket and a few other things.
“I guess you guys are already on it, huh?” I note falling in step behind as Jesse and Jenner walk towards the guest room next to the library.
“Yes, Wesley. One look at you and I knew that the stairs were not going to be an option.”
Now that the adrenalin rush from earlier has subsided, and the whiskey I drank to chase away the pain has completely dissipated, I am bone tired. My ribs and lungs are protesting with every step I make and every breath I take. This is bullshit. Complete bullshit. I hate being weak. Even more so, I hate admitting any weakness. In the life I live, whether it’s the rich owner of a Security Company that is quickly spreading across the U.S, or the hired assassin who gets unnaturally happy ending the lives of worthless people, weak is something I can never be.
As soon as I get into the room, I move towards the bathroom.
“I am sure that can wait til’ Doc gets a look at you,” Jenner says giving me a stern look, while preparing the bed. Jesse is arranging the other items on the nightstand next to the bed.
I turn and glare at him. “I cannot go another minute being covered in dry blood and dirt. Thanks for the concern, Jenner, but I don’t need it. I will be fine. I got this.”
I close the door and begin to undress, but I can’t lift my arms to get the shirt over my head. My fucking ribs are stopping me from doing the simplest of tasks. Shit. I open up the sink drawers and search until I find what I’m looking for - scissors. I begin to cut my shirt from the bottom up. Once done, the shirt slides off my shoulders easily with little pain. I work the rest of my clothes the same way, but have to use my feet to pry off my shoes and socks because I can’t bend down.
The shower is hot. Too hot. But after having been in that place for the last couple of days, I need the water hot enough to practically burn my skin off. I just stand under the water and let it wash away the blood and filth. Eventually, I move to wash my hair and body and get out and brush my teeth. The feeling of clean teeth is refreshing and I am already feeling like I am on the mend, even though I know my body is broken and needs time to heal. But it’s a start.
After getting clean, dressing in loose fitting shorts that I use to workout in, I lie down and close my eyes for a minute. Next thing I know its two hours later and someone is knocking at my door.
“Yeah,” I say, still half asleep.
Doc walks in and sits on the edge of my bed with his bag of medical supplies. “Hey, heard you had a rough couple of days.”
“You could say that.”
The doctor, or Doc as we call him, is mine and Jesse’s personal doctor who gets paid a substantial amount of money to not ask questions and to fix us up at home when needed.
“Alright, well let’s take a look then shall we?”
I nod and let him do his thing. Few hours later, over one hundred stitches, three broken ribs, a small concussion, and a fractured left wrist, I am as good as I’ll get. For now.
Doc gives me a stern look, “Now, no leaving the bed for at least a week. I know you won’t do as I say and stay in bed so I’ll be expecting your call for me to re-stitch you.”
He’s right, there is no way in hell I’ll be staying in this bed for a week. One day, that’s it. I have shit to do. The good Doc leaves and Jesse comes strolling in with some grapes in his hand.
“Thought you left already?”
He plops down on the brown, leather chaise in the corner of the room, facing the bed and tosses a grape into his mouth.
“Nope, got to make sure you’re going to be okay.”
Of course he would stay. But I am sure it’s not to make sure I am okay. He’s an asshole. Well, so am I, but his asshole ways are a little different than mine. I am sure he only wants to watch me suffer. He’s caring like that.
“Well, go home. I’m good here. Doc gave me some strong stuff. I’m sure it will knock me out shortly.” I give him a look that says I’m not kidding. I don’t need him here hovering. He has our business to run while I am out of service. He shrugs his shoulders and gets up to leave. When he gets to the door he turns back, “I am glad you’re here and out of there, really. The business and game wouldn’t be the same without you.” He walks out. Yeah, yeah, yeah, is all I want to say, but in truth, I am more than grateful he came for me.
I pull the covers over me a little higher and close my eyes. The pain meds are really starting to kick in and all I want to do now is sleep into next week. I know I can’t do that. I have to rest now and figure shit out tomorrow. I need to find out who the hell took me and I need to see Marlie. The Company is in good hands with Jesse as the V.P.
I close my eyes and images of Marlie dance in my head, teasing me into my dream.
TWELVE
Marlie
IT HAS BEEN TWO DAYS SINCE my little meltdown. Things are better and after some thought, I have come to a conclusion - I will not let him get to me. I will not let him scare me anymore. I will live my life for me and not look over my shoulder wondering if he is going to come after me. It’s a lot easier said than done but I can sure fucking try and I don’t even know if he will. One thing I do know though, is I am not the same Marlie I was two years ago. No. I have grown into my own person. I am stronger. Maybe not so much emotionally, but definitely physically. I am smarter too. While it seems like I have been living life day by day, I haven’t. I knew this moment would come, that he would get out. But it’s so much sooner than I had expected, but I am prepared. At least, I hope I am.
Before, when I was with Carter, I was weak. Well, weaker. After Carter, I started to run once a week and hit the gym every once in a while. So I am physically stronger but not by much. I blame myself for slacking. I told myself two years ago that I would grow and become strong, but every day I slacked more and more. And now the time has come to face him and face my past and I don’t have much. I’m fucking pathetic. But I won’t let that get me down. If I go out, it sure as hell is going to be with a fight. I think I should get a gun. Actually, I know I should get one. But there are some things I haven’t been able to cope with from that life. So getting a gun right now is a no-go.
I used to be the bad girl who did bad things and I fought hard with myself to turn my life around. And even though I have been living a better life because of it, I think that I might have to bring the bad girl back in order to dea
l with what I know is coming and it scares the hell out of me.
I have also come to another conclusion. This whole thing that Wes and I had started back in Indiana starts and ends there. It has nothing to with the fact that I haven’t heard from him in almost a week. No, it has to do with my situation now. I am doing it to protect him. I know Wes is strong, not just physically but also mentally. But Carter is a psychopath and so are the rest of the men at the warehouse. Sure he has been in prison for the last two years and hell, maybe he has changed, but I doubt it. He has been conditioned to live the life he was before he went away. I am not willing to take that kind of risk. If Carter is the even remotely the same man who took so much away from me two years ago, or even the years before that when he wasn’t as bad, then if he were to ever find out about Wes, he would kill him. I have no doubt about that.
So friends are all we can be. I know I shouldn’t even do that, but I am for once, being selfish. I want him in my life. I no longer will deny that. I just hope he understands without my having to explain it to him truthfully. That is, if I ever hear from him again. If I don’t, I should think of it as a blessing, given what is going on, but at the same time, I know deep down it will sting a little.
Gemma knows that I can’t make anything more than a friendship happen with Wes now. I could see the sadness on her face when we talked about it, but she understands that I would be putting his life at risk. She knows how crazy jealous Carter is and even though we are clearly not together and haven’t been for two years, there are still the ‘what ifs’ lingering in the back my mind. What if he has changed? What if he will leave me alone? What if, now that he is out, I won’t have to race and risk my life every summer because I sent him to prison? Those are the best case ‘what ifs’ and the least likely to happen. Unless Hell, has in fact, frozen over. The ones that are more likely, are what if he comes after me? What if he hurts me? What if he finds out about Wes? What if he hurts Wes? What if he kills Wes? What if he kills me? Gemma? Any one of my family members? What if? Those ‘what ifs’ I just can’t risk. But at the same time, I will do what I need to do to prevent them, but I will not let him make me paranoid. I am going to live life as normal as possible, until I know. At least I’ll try, anyway.
It’s Sunday and Gem and I are having our usually lazy day. We didn’t go out last night. We just stayed in, talked, and watched a movie. Today, we have been doing laundry. Did some cleaning this morning and are now back on the couch with popcorn, large fountain pops and a ton of old movies to be watched. Gemma picked the movie, Caddy Shack and we have been watching it for an hour, when there is a knock on the door. I know that a random knock shouldn’t just scare me, but given the recent news I received, I can’t help it. I told myself I wasn’t going to be scared, to be paranoid. But fuck me if that little talk I had with myself didn’t just go out the damn window.
My heart starts to beat fast. I look at Gemma and instantly know that hers is too. Her eyes are alert and wide. Breathe, just breathe. I try to calm myself down, rationalize and try to think of the many other people as to who the hell would be at my door at seven o’clock on a Sunday evening.
Carter.
That is all I am thinking about. I close my eyes and take a few deep breathes, and I will myself to get up. I am shaking, and beyond terrified as to who, or what, will be at the door. Another knock comes and I jump. Jesus Marlie, pull yourself together. It could be anyone. Just breathe. Gemma is right behind me and I can feel her breathing like she is hyperventilating.
“Go into your room,” I whisper to her.
She closes her eyes now, trying to calm herself. When she opens them, she appears to be better.
“No. I am okay,” she whispers back.
I nod at her answer. I am not going to stand and argue with her right now. I move to the kitchen and grab a knife from one of the drawers, then I creep to the door with Gemma right behind me. I wish we had a peephole so I could see who the hell it is. Why don’t I have a peep hole? Of all things! I make a quick mental note to install a new door; one with a peephole and new locks for it too. I unlock the door and reach for the handle and curse my palms for being sweaty as shit right now, because my grip is weak.
“Ready?” I whisper to Gemma with the knife in my right hand, placed behind my back.
Unable to speak, she nods.
I turn the handle and pull the door open ready to attack if need be. I don’t see Carter, I see Wes. He is standing in front of me looking like hell. His hand is wrapped, he has stitches above his right brow, left cheek, and on his bottom lip. What the hell happened to him? All of my fears come to mind with one look at him. Did Carter find him and do this? No. I don’t think so. He probably wouldn’t be standing here then. I just stand at my door looking at him, unable to speak.
He comes in close and grabs the side of my face and stares me in the eyes. His look burning me to my core, “My god, Marlie, are you okay? You look shaken up.”
Stepping back, I realize his touch has calmed the anxiety created by the idea it may have been Carter at the door. “Me? You are the one who I should be asking that to.”
He steps farther in the apartment, forcing me take some steps back to allow him in and he shuts the door. I watch him as he slowly moves to sit on the couch. It’s such a struggle, I can barely watch.
“Yeah, I am fine. Mostly. I was in a car accident.”
I set the knife down and in an instant, I am next him. That would certainly explain why he hasn’t called me back. I don’t know why, but for some reason I don’t quite believe it. When he said ‘car accident’ his eyes said something else. But then again, his whole body looks completely wrecked and I am probably still paranoid with thoughts of Carter, so I let it go.
I place my hand on his thigh, “Oh my god, Wes, I wish I would have known. I am so sorry.”
He laughs a little and brings his hand back to the side of my face and caresses it. “Don’t be Marlie. I am okay. A little sore, but I will be fine. Nothing that won’t heal. And it’s not like it’s your fault. Dumbass ran a red light and drove right into the driver’s side.”
“I know, but I just… I… just… wow. I am glad you are okay.” I lean in to hug him and his body goes stiff.
“Ouch,” he winces.
I pull back. “Sorry.”
He chuckles again. “It’s fine, Marlie”.
He looks away and appears to be thinking something over. He looks up at Gemma and then to me, “Want to tell me why you had a knife in your hand and why you and Gemma look scared out of your minds when you opened up the door?”
Fuck. What the hell am I going to tell him? That anxiety that I had before I knew it was Wes at the door, yeah, it’s back now. Think Marlie, think.
“Oh, um… because we were watching a scary movie?” Shit. Why did I just pose that a question? Because I am a dumbass, that’s why.
He smirks and without looking, he picks up the DVD case and points it at the TV. “Cady Shack? That’s what scares you tough girl? Why do I find that hard to believe?” He shakes his head and sets it back down on the coffee table.
Well, isn’t he observant? How am I going to skirt around this? I begin to speak when a throat is cleared from behind me and I remember Gemma is still here. We both turn to look at her and she waves at us. Clearly she doesn’t know what to say either, but she wanted to stop his questions.
Good friend.
“Hey Wes, sorry about your car wreck. I am glad you’re alright. Marlie was losing her shit,” Her eyes go wide for a moment knowing instantly she shouldn’t have said that, but she quickly recovers and gives him a Gemma Watt smile.
“Thanks, Gemma. It’s been a rough week.” He says it casually, but something dark flickers through his eyes when he says it. Something else is going on, I can sense it.
“I bet it has,” she turns into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I am going to go to my room and make some calls. I’ll catch you later, Wes.”
“Yep. See y
a,” he smiles at her and then turns his attention back to me.
I look at Gem as she starts to walk to her room. She gives me sad look as she passes by heading down the hall; she knows what I am about to do. I am about to put Wes back into the friend zone, and it sucks. I don’t really know what to call what we are, but after that kiss, he was definitely not in the friend zone anymore.
I get up and walk towards the fridge. “Want something to drink? I have plenty of options.” I grab a tumbler and some whiskey from the cupboards, because I need something strong to ease my nerves. I feel like a fucking tweaker with how jumpy, nervous, and paranoid I have become in the last ten minutes.
He ignores my question. “So you were ‘losing your shit’ huh?”
“Gemma is delirious. I’ve been cool as a cucumber all week.”
“I see. So you haven’t wondered why I haven’t called?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I just didn’t freak out. I was… curious. That’s all.”
“I think you’re bullshitting.”
“And I think you should drop it.” Of course I was freaking out all week. Like, what the hell? But I will not admit that. Damn Gemma and her big mouth. Now I know the reason he hadn’t called. At least the reason he gave me.
He laughs, but doesn’t say another word. I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I am making our drinks and see him trying to turn to get himself more comfortable, but winces with every move. Now I feel bad because I am about to knock him down when he already is. I have a moment of weakness and reconsider telling him that we can only be friends, but I’ll only be putting it off and I don’t want to do that. I can’t. It’ll be only making things worse and by now I can tell he is the kind of guy who wants things given to him straight.
Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) Page 14