by Hanna Peach
He shuffles. Appearing to decide that honesty is best, he nods. “You knew I would go after him one day. The day has come.”
I step towards him. “What if something happens to you?”
“Nothing will happen.”
“What if it does?” I yell. Rage and tears decide they can both flood through me at once. “What if he kills you? What the hell do I do then?”
“I’ve made arrangements. If I die, you’ll be taken care of.”
I tense. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re in my will. You can stay here and Wylie can look after you.”
I launch at him and beat my fists on his chest, not caring that his wound is still not fully healed. “I don’t care about your goddamn money. I don’t want it. Not any of it.”
He grabs my hands and pulls them around his waist. His arms wrap around my shaking shoulders. I bury my face in his chest as I sob. “I need you, Caden. I can’t live without you. I can’t. Don’t make me try.”
He shushes me as one of his hands strokes my hair. “Please, don’t cry. I’m not going to die, I promise.”
“No. You can’t promise me that. You can’t.” I pull back from him so I can look into his eyes. Through my blurred vision his face is scrunched with concern. “Please, don’t go after him.”
His face hardens. “I have to. You know I have to.”
“You don’t. We could just forget about Jacob. We could move on. Go live on that island somewhere like we talked about. You and me, for the rest of our lives. I’m your home, remember?”
“I can’t do that.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Do you really think you can live without looking over your shoulder every second of every day if he is still alive? Do you think you can walk this earth in peace with his shadow following you? You won’t be able to.”
“You won’t be able to. I don’t care anymore about revenge. I don’t. I don’t care about vengeance. I just want… you.”
“Kitten, please,” he slides his hands on either side of my face, “do you trust me?”
“Of course I do but−”
“Then trust me when I say that nothing bad will happen to me.”
My eyes flood with a fresh set of tears.
He sighs. “I don’t want to say goodbye like this, kitten. I can’t leave with you angry at me.”
“I’m just so worried.”
“I know.” He pulls me back towards the bed. He sits down on the edge of it and pulls me onto his lap. His hands begin to roam under my shirt. “I promise you, I’m coming back,” he says as he presses kisses across my chest and pushes up my shirt. I moan as one of his hands frees one of my breasts from my bra. He start to flick my nipple with his tongue.
My fingers twist into his hair and I yank his head back, causing him to growl. “You better fucking come back,” I say, my voice thickening with lust and venom, “or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Deal.” He crushes me to him so hard my lips bruise, his strong arms securing me to him.
My body throbs and I feel him hardening underneath me. I grind my hips into his. Instantly both our breathing gets hard and fast. There’s no more room to talk. It’s a race to see who can get naked first. My shirt and his are both thrown off. He lifts me off him long enough to strip me off my skirt and underwear and to drop his own pants.
I suck in a breath as I stare at him. He is thick and strong and corded with muscle. I need to have my hands on his body now. God dammit. Will I ever get used to how beautiful he is naked? Even with his scars. To me his scars now look like white lace patterns across his chest. They are a reminder of everything he has endured, everything he has survived. My warrior Caden.
He sits back down on the edge of the bed. With his hands around my waist he picks me up and pulls me over him. My knees are barely touching the mattress on either side of his muscular thighs. There’s no time to tease. He positions me at the end of his cock and lets me drop. I slide down on him, so wet already that there’s no resistance. I slide down to the hilt.
Immediately my body shudders with pleasure. I start to move, lifting my hips up and crashing them down on him, his hands on my hips assisting me. My hands curl around his neck and hold him close. We suck and lick at each other’s lips and tongues. He dips his head occasionally to bite at one of my nipples, sending bolts of lightning through my body.
Our hips move ferociously against each other, the room filling with panting and moaning and the slap of flesh against flesh. I think deep down both of us realize that there’s a chance this might be the last time we see each other. Despite his promises to me to return. Every ounce of fear and love and the goodbye we both refuse to say is released into each other’s mouths and against each other’s bodies.
“I love you,” he tells me between kisses, “I fucking love you so much.”
“I love you too, Caden. So much.”
I cry out as my climax starts. It’s too much for both of us. I tighten around him as I burst with pleasure. He cries out into my mouth as he pumps his climax into me.
We hang suspended for a few seconds, panting against each other. Then he falls back onto the bed. And I fall down with him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Caden
Her little arms clutch at my neck and I bury my nose into her hair and try to memorize that fresh citrus smell. “Be good, kitten. I’ll see you soon.”
I pull away and disentangle her arms. I get into my black rental car, a new sedan that smells like leather. I drive away from her down the long driveway. In my rearview mirror I see her tearing away from Wylie, who had closed an arm around her to try to pull her inside. She runs down the driveway after me and my stomach clenches. But I don’t stop.
I can’t.
My boot is loaded with guns, bullets, rope and small canisters of smoke bombs. You know, everything you need for a friendly neighborhood assassination mission. As I lose sight of her in my rearview mirror, I wonder just for a second whether I’m doing the right thing by leaving her and going after Jacob.
No. I have to do this. If I ever had a chance to succeed, now is my chance. I have waited patiently, searching, training, biding my time for the moment when Jacob is once again in my reach. Then I can finally lay my ghosts to rest. And hers.
My heart aches when I remember Lily’s wide toothy smile, her light blonde ringlets and her sparkly green eyes so full of innocent joy. She had her mother’s hair but my eyes. She was the light of my life. Until Jacob took my baby away from me.
I drive into the night. My gut tightens further as I pass the outer city limits back into Freemont. It’s past midnight when I pull up down the road from Dixie’s bar. I turn off the engine and sit in the dark. Dixie’s bar is on a street lined with three and four level apartments and storefronts. It’s not a main road but it’s busy enough. The bar is still and dark. Even from here I can tell that it’s not open. No light shines through the gaps in the shutters. The bar would normally be closed at this time, but there should at least still be a light on inside as the staff cleans up and counts the till.
She was right. Something isn’t right.
I look up to the windows above Dixie’s bar to her apartment. Those lights are all out too.
I know the layout of this building because I have studied the floor plans of it and the neighboring buildings. It’s a wonder how much information you can get when you ask the council workers nicely. And a little money goes a long way in greasing the lines of communication. I’ve cased the bar and broken into Dixie’s apartment before. I know that there’s a small laneway that runs along the back of the building where the rubbish truck backs into and the deliveries are made. I’ll enter that way. As I did last time.
I drive the car around the block and park closer to the entrance of the laneway. After I turn off the engine, I take out the gun from my glove compartment and tuck it into the back of my pants. I have another one in an ankle holster already strapped to my right leg.
I slip out of the car and into the shadows of the laneway. Wearing all black I blend right in.
I decide I’m going to try her apartment first. I reach up for the bottom rung of the fire escape and pull myself up with ease. I don’t work out several times a week for hours at a time for nothing. I need to stay fit and strong for times like these.
I step silently up the fire escape until I reach the window to the second floor. With a few short yanks it opens and I’m standing inside the small corridor next to the stairwell. In a few silent steps I’m at Dixie’s door. It’s locked from the inside of course, but that’s never stopped me. I pull a small lockpicking kit from one of my pockets that looks like a black manicure set. From inside the kit I pull out two thin pieces of metal.
In seconds the lock is opened. I slip the tools back into my pocket and slide inside Dixie’s apartment.
It’s quiet in here. In the dimness I gaze over the familiar silhouettes in Dixie’s entry hall and her living room. I pull a small flashlight from my pocket and turn it on. To the left is the kitchen. To the right is the corridor that leads to the two bedrooms. I pause at the door. Something is off. I sniff the air. Meat, it smells of grilled meat. Someone has been cooking in here recently. Stepping further into the kitchen I notice two plates in the sink.
I slip my gun, fitted with a silencer, out from the back of my pants and hold it in front of me. I take a step farther inside towards the living room. Over in one corner the answering machine flashes with two red lights, one a signal that there’s a message and the other one to let the owner know to turn the tape over. Pointing my gun forward I check to make sure there’s no one hiding behind the sofa. Then I move towards the corridor to the bedrooms.
The boy’s room is first. A quick check shows me that he isn’t here but his bed is unmade. Then I check the bathroom. Finally I enter Dixie’s room. Her bed is unmade too. I frown when my light comes to rest on the mirror. It’s cracked. When I look further there are more signs that there had been a struggle in here. The chair by her desk has been righted but I can see where one of its legs has been cracked. A fallen roll of lipstick remains on the floor near the bed. All my muscles are tense, ready. Waiting. I am about to turn away when I notice a faint smell of smoke. Cigarette smoke. I already know from kitten that Dixie doesn’t smoke. She hates it.
Something moves in my periphery and I spin towards it. A figure rises from behind the bed, raising a gun at me. I drop to my knee as I shine my flashlight into his face and he lets out a growl as the torch blinds him for a second. He’s one of Jacob’s men. We both shoot at once, the silencers on our guns reducing the shots into two small noises. His shot goes wild and embeds into the wall above my head. Mine goes straight through his chest.
He drops to the ground and his gun clatters to the floor. I step quickly to him and kick the gun away from him. Then I check his pulse. There’s none. He’s dead. With my gun still pointed at the door, I check his pockets, glancing back towards the door again and again so that I won’t be caught in surprise if there’s another man here.
I find a wallet and I flip it open. The driver’s license tells me that his name was Edward Dumont. I know this guy. Eddie was what the guys called him. Definitely one of Jacob’s men. So… Jacob has Dixie and probably the boy, too.
What is this guy still doing here?
I hear a jiggle from nearby and then the distinct sound of a key sliding into the lock. Is someone at the front door? I collect Eddie’s gun and walk swiftly down the corridor, aiming both guns at the door as the handle jiggles.
Someone is definitely trying to get in.
The lock clicks and the door handle turns. It swings open. I shine the flashlight into the intruder’s face. It’s a large, dark-skinned man carrying a plastic shopping bag in his left hand, a key in the other. He looks startled and he drops his bag. It clinks on the floor.
The big black man holds his hands up. “Don’t shoot.” He doesn’t have a weapon in his hands, but it doesn’t mean that he isn’t hiding one. I recognize the face of Robert, Dixie’s cook, from when I scoped out Dixie’s bar.
“What are you doing here, Robert?” I ask.
“I should ask you the same thing,” he says. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
I indicate for him to come in and close the door behind him. “No fast movements.” He does so, bringing in his bag and setting it down near the low side table. Even though I can see the fear in his eyes when he turns back to me he remains with his chin up. “What do you want?”
I make an amused noise in my throat. “I’m the one holding the gun. I get to ask the questions. Where’s Dixie and Jeff?”
“How do you know Dixie?”
I wave the gun to remind him of the way it works.
He nods. “Right. Gun. Questions.” He sighs and his hands sag in the air so his elbows rest on his sides even as he keeps his palms facing me. “I don’t know where Dixie or Jeff are. Earlier this afternoon I came off a two day break for my dinner shift to find the bar closed and Dixie not answering her door or her phone. I tried Jeff but he ain’t answering his phone neither. I got worried. I used the spare key that she gave me to enter this here apartment. She wasn’t here. Neither was Jeff. So I went to the cops. They told me that I couldn’t file a missing persons report unless they’d been gone for 48 hours. I came back here to wait for them just in case they returned. Picked up some groceries just in case I had to wait the whole 48 hours.” He nods at my gun. “That’s when you surprised the hell outta me.”
As I suspected. Jacob does have Dixie and Jeff. He must have sent the dead man in Dixie’s room back to do more recon.
Robert continues, “Dixie has a crazy ex-husband. She ran from him. I thought that maybe finally he had tracked her down. That would not be a good thing if he tracked her down. He’s crazy.”
I consider this possibility. Then I shake my head. “No. I doubt very much that this has anything to do with Dixie’s ex-husband.”
“Why? What in the hell is goin’ on?”
I sigh. And I tuck both guns into the back of my pants. “You can put your hands down now. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of… you know her as Shelley.” I use the fake name that I know she gave them. When I say the name it sounds strange.
Robert’s eyes widen. “Is she okay? She disappeared too a week or so ago.”
I nod. “She’s fine.”
“Has this got to do with Shelley?”
“I think so.”
Robert picks up his plastic shopping bag and moves towards the kitchen. “Then I want to help.” He starts to unpack the bag into the cupboards.
“No, you should go home.”
“I ain’t leavin’.”
I grunt under my breath. “Look, I’ve already caught one man here. He’s dead in Dixie’s room.” I watch Robert’s face flinch and I think maybe I’m getting through to him. “Whoever took Dixie will probably send more when they don’t hear from the dead guy. You better get out of here.”
But the big man just lifts his chin higher into the air. “I ain’t scared. I ain’t leavin’ ‘til Dixie is back here and safe.”
I sigh. I could show him the dead body. That might smarten him up. But then again, I did a background check on Robert Yonga, aka RoYo, eight or so months ago. He used to be a small time thief, just handbag snatches and convenience store robberies back in his hometown. He’s done jail time, but after his stint he appeared to have cleaned up and had been working here at Dixie’s for almost four years on the straight and narrow. He probably wouldn’t be too scared of dead bodies or bullets. Perhaps he wouldn’t be too bad to have watching my back.
“Fine then. Stay for now. I’m going to check the answering machine.”
I walk through the living room towards the flashing red lights of the machine sitting on a side table on her desk near the window on the far wall. I hear Robert tinkering in the kitchen behind me.
Som
ething still feels off. I stand at the answering machine and press the message button. The tape makes a whirring noise as it rewinds.
Then I realize what is off. There are two plates in the sink. But only one man hiding in the room. Where’s the other guy? And if there were two dinner plates here then how did Robert miss out on seeing the two men here if he came to check on the apartment around dinnertime? Was it just dumb luck? I frown as a thought enters my mind.
Before I can turn, I feel a sharp pain on the back of my head. Everything goes black.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kitten
He hasn’t called yet.
He hasn’t fucking called yet. Jesus Christ. I pace Caden’s bedroom in the light of the bedside lamp wearing one of his shirts that still smells like him, glaring at the screen of my mobile, willing it to call. He should be there by now, shouldn’t he? He should have called by now, shouldn’t he?
I hate this. I hate this so much.
I don’t usually drink but I fucking need one at this second. I stomp over to the low side table and open the drawer where I know he keeps his whiskey and two cut crystal glasses. I pour two fingers of Macallan into a glass and throw it back. Well. That was a bad idea. It burns my throat and I tip forward, spilling whiskey on the carpet. Some of it dribbles down my chin. I cough as I slam the glass down on the table. I stumble to the bathroom spluttering in search of water and a cloth.
I shove my face under a tap and the cool water seems to snap me out of it somewhat. I just have to have faith. I just have to trust in Caden. Everything will be fine. It will be.
Chapter Forty
Caden
I come to and the first thing I notice is the uncomfortable pain in my arm. I’m lying on my side on the floor and my hands are tied behind me. I can feel the thick abrasive rope digging into my skin. I’m still in Dixie’s apartment. I recognize the silhouette of the couch and the low table of the living room that I’m in. Robert must have tied me up right where he knocked me out, probably using some sort of kitchen tool. A fry pan most likely from the way my head hurts like a bitch. Kitten said Robert could be trusted. Apparently not.