by W Winters
“Let me go,” I tell him, my words rushed. I have to clear my throat, but that just makes it more hoarse. My body’s still stiff and it’s then that Jase seems to notice I’m not quivering in his arms and begging for him to save me. Maybe that’s what I should have done, but I’ve always been a bad liar. “I need to move; let me go.”
The change in Jase’s demeanor is immediate and palpable. His grip moves to my upper arms, his fingers digging into my flesh and nearly hurting me.
“What happened? Are you okay?” he questions and the hardness in his words echoes the look in his gaze. Piercing me, demanding information. He doesn’t let go. There’s no sympathy from him, and for the first time, I see the man he really is. The man who rules with fear and unrelenting force.
I try to answer him, but my throat is so dry I could choke on the words. With a heavy breath out, I feel faint, staring into his eyes. I watch as his stern expression changes slowly. Before, I felt like I’d been given a glimpse, but thought I’d imagined it. This time I know I saw it.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” The words of his question waver. The guilt and betrayal flicker on each syllable and make my chest feel hollow and vacant. I’m pinned by his gaze and the nausea comes back full force.
A dry heave breaks the tension, forcing Jase to lift me to my feet and bring me to the sink. Pushing him away with one shaking hand, I turn the faucet on, my fingers slipping around the knob at first, unable to grip it tight enough. The cold water is more than a relief against my face, dripping down my neck and throat, even though it soaks into my sweater. And then drinking it from my cupped hands. I hear Jase go through a cabinet to my upper left and then he pushes a glass toward me for me to take.
One breath. And another. One breath. And another. The water swirls around the drain and I focus on two things.
I’m alive.
Jase doesn’t know about the message in the book.
It’s hard to remember where we were before I read those lines. It’s always hard going back.
The knob protests with a squeaking sound as I turn it off, still not daring to look Jase in the eyes. Leaning my hip against the countertop to stay upright, I force myself to calm down. Still feeling dizzy and as if I don’t have a grasp on anything at all, bringing my arms up to cross in front of me, I spit it out, one line at a time.
“At first one man… or woman,” I breathe the words out. “I didn’t know who it was but…” I trail off slowly, because that’s when I remember Jase said he wasn’t coming over tonight. I knew it wasn’t him because he’d told me he wasn’t coming.
“Why are you here?” I ask him and stare into his dark eyes as I feel how heavy my own are.
“Things changed and I wanted to make sure you were all right.” Every word is spoken with a sense of calm but also forcefully. His hand on my upper arm steals my attention. Though gentle, it’s demanding just the same. It strikes me that “gentle but demanding” is exactly how I’d describe this man. The knowledge makes something in the pit of my stomach flicker to life, a dull burn.
“One man came? One man did all of this?” he questions.
One breath, one beat of my heart and I move my gaze to his. “I was in the kitchen and heard someone come in. Whoever it was went upstairs and before I could do anything, two more people came in and I hid.”
It sounds so simple when I say it like that. Only two sentences to describe the last half hour? Or maybe an hour? I peek at the oven and then swallow thickly at the red digital numbers staring back at me. Over an hour and a half. Sucking in a hesitant breath and closing my eyes, I tell him just that. “I hid for an hour and a half and they just left.”
My eyes are still closed when he asks, “They just left? How long ago?”
The irritation that flows from my words is unjustified, but it’s there nonetheless. “Yes, that’s what I just said. They just left.” My voice cracks as I raise it and pull the hair away from my hot face. “Minutes ago. They could come back.” I lie and say, “That’s why I couldn’t answer you when you first came in. I wasn’t sure if they were really gone yet.”
He sees right through my lie; I can tell with the hint of a tilt of his head.
The realization leaves me just as it comes. Jase is here. Relief is hesitant to console me when he says, “No one’s going to hurt you,” instead of calling me out on the lie.
“You sound so sure of that,” I speak just under my breath and finally look into his eyes. Into the eyes of a man I was falling for. A man I trusted and slept with. A man who makes me question everything now.
I have to break his gaze and let out an uneasy breath as I stare past him and see the destruction. “Oh my God.” The words fall from my lips. “What the hell did they do?”
He follows me silently as I walk without thinking into the living room. The sofa is moved away from the wall, the cushions scattered on the floor. Maybe they did that when they were searching for me, but the lamp is busted, the light bulb shattered on the floor where it fell, the coffee table is overturned and that’s when I realize the book is gone.
The Coverless Book. Disbelief runs through me in a wave as I fall to the floor searching for it, but knowing it’s not here.
These were my mother’s things and the first pieces of furniture I bought on my own. Pieces I picked out with my sister. Each and every thing in this house comes with a memory. They violated it. I’ve never felt like this before.
“A robbery,” Jase says behind me and I shake my head. Denying the lie he speaks.
“They wanted it to look like that.” I’m barely conscious of my response as I take in the place. “That’s why they did it,” I add as the thought hits me and I stand up, looking toward the door. “They broke the window after they left to make it look like a robbery. Like they broke the glass to unlock the door.”
I feel sickened more than angered.
Pushing the hair out of my face, I try to think about what they could have been after, but it’s obvious. “They came here for me, but they thought I ran, so they made it look like a break-in.” I whip around to face Jase and tell him, “They knew I was here… or maybe they thought I took off. So they staged it…” My gaze falls as I swallow the lump in my throat. “They thought I took off when I heard them so they staged it as a robbery.”
“It’s a setup,” Jase agrees, searching through things and telling me Seth is nearby watching the entrance to the neighborhood and that everything’s okay now. He promises me he’ll fix it, he says he’ll find whoever it was and make them pay. He tells me he’s happy I’m okay and tries to comfort me with his touch, but I pull away. I don’t listen to his promises. I’m not in the habit of relying on promises. The seconds pass as I give myself a moment to actually process what happened.
It makes sense. All of it makes sense.
But why take the book? Every hair on the back of my neck stands up when the question echoes in my head.
My phone’s on the floor, as is a stack of envelopes from the pile of opened mail, but the mail itself, is missing. They were only bills, nothing of importance. But my laptop is gone too. Fuck! I need that for work. As I halfheartedly lean forward searching through my things, I take everything into account, but the one thing that matters… It really isn’t here.
“The book.” I can’t help but to say it out loud and when I do, my lips feel chapped and the sentence comes out raw. “They took it?” Denial is apparent. “Why take the book?” I shove everything out of the way, searching all over the living room until I get to the hallway only to see it’s trashed too. My mother’s vase sits perfectly where it is, thank God, but the light in the hall is broken. All the lights are broken.
They upturned the furniture, then busted the lights and stole meaningless items with no worth. Meaningless to them, but to me… “I want my book back.” I’m surprised that after all this time, the back of my eyes prick and my hands ball into fists at the thought of someone coming in here and taking The Coverless Book.
I don�
�t even realize I’m shaking until Jase holds me from behind, pulling me into his chest. And again, I’m stiff.
His embrace is calming and masculine, wrapped in warmth. It’s designed to comfort, just like the small kiss he plants on my neck. But I can’t relax. I can’t.
“Why did they do this?” My question turns to broken pieces of whispered syllables in the air.
“Stay with me. I’ll make sure we find them and get your book back.” His soothing words do nothing to change what’s happened and where my mind leads me.
None of this would have happened if Jenny hadn’t died; if she hadn’t gotten herself into this mess. It always leads back to Jenny and with her name on the tip of my tongue, tears threaten again to fall.
All the calm words and pretty promises couldn’t keep the tremors at bay.
“I want to know who they were. They knew what they were doing. It’s the men who murdered Jenny. That’s why they took the book.”
Every memory of my sister always brings out the worst in me.
Angry tears form but don’t fall as I take in a heavy breath and shove Jase away. I’m good at doing that. At shoving people away.
Those bastards came here. They took her book from me, the last thing she left me and the only thing that had a message from her. The only key I had to finding out what happened to her.
“Call the cops,” I demand, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater. The words scratch my throat on their way out.
“No.” He answers hard.
“Call them!” I screech, shoving my fists into Jase’s chest to get him away from me. Anger is nothing compared to what I feel. He grabs my wrists quicker than I can register, forcing me to stare up at him. He can stare all he wants; he can try to hold me, try to bend me to his will, nothing will get through to me. Once he learns that, he’ll leave.
It’s only when I look into his eyes in this foyer, with this fear and the memories of Jenny that I realize it’s just as it was a week and a half ago when he first knocked on my door. Nothing has changed.
“Just go,” I seethe.
“Calm down.” He grits the words through his teeth, the irritation barely contained in his voice.
“I’m calling the cops.” I stare into his eyes as I speak.
“No, you’re not. You’re going to come with me. You’re going to wait while I find the men who did this and make this right.” Every word from his mouth is a demand. They strike me and dare me not to obey.
Ripping my hands away from him, I step back and then step back again. My teeth grind so hard against one another they could crack.
Jase knows better than to approach me as I reach for my shoes and then gather my phone without a word spoken. He thinks I’m obeying him. Going along with what he says and listening like a good girl.
Never in my life has someone bossed me around and told me what to do. Not until Jenny went away and Jase came storming into my life. The bitter acknowledgement stays with me as I prepare to get the hell away from here.
He walks around my place as I silently put on my shoes and grab my coat, my car keys still in the right pocket. Beneath the heavy fabric is my purse, the wallet still there.
And the knowledge is a smack in the face.
They had to know it would be obvious that it wasn’t a robbery. Maybe they were counting on me not calling the police. Maybe they know about Jase. They thought I’d run to him?
A chill flows down my spine as I stare up at the man I’ve been sleeping with, the man I thought I was falling for. He nods toward the door, telling me he has to make a call before we leave.
I don’t answer him, not trusting myself to speak.
Instead, while he’s on the phone on the porch I walk right past his car and get into my own, speeding off quickly enough so that all he can do is run into the street as I stare into my rearview mirror watching him.
The deafening silence is my only companion as I run away from it all, toward God knows where. I have no idea where I’m going or how I’ll find a way out of this mess. The second I get around the corner, panic takes over. Realizing this is my life; this is what my life has become.
The tires screech as I yank the wheel to the left and turn into the neighbor’s long drive. Slamming on the brakes and parking, I turn off the car, feeling a sickness churn in my gut.
I did what she used to do to me.
This is what Jenny used to do when she’d leave in an angry fit. We’d get into fights about her new friends and new habits. She’d threaten to leave and I’d threaten to follow. She thought I didn’t know that she would just pull in here until things calmed down and then she’d drive home. She’d drive away, just to hide down the street, all alone crying in her car. The house itself is empty. The owner lives in a retirement home and his kids aren’t willing to sell it yet.
I knew. I knew exactly what Jenny was doing. Not the first time, but the time after, she was too slow and I saw. I’d drive past every time though and park a few streets down and then walk back up here, watching her cry in the driver’s seat. At least she was safe.
That’s all I ever wanted.
Safe is what matters.
That’s what I told myself back then. As I see Jase speed down the road behind me, not glancing my way at all, that’s what I tell myself now. I need to keep myself safe. Safe from everything.
I don’t trust anyone.
All I know is that I need my book back.
I need to know what Jenny’s last words to me were.
Jase
The leather is hot against my palms as I twist my hands around the steering wheel. My knuckles are turning white with every second that passes.
I force myself to focus on every detail around me to keep from losing all sense of control.
The ringing of Seth’s phone echoes in the silent car. It rings once, then halfway through a second ring before he picks up.
“Where is she?” My question comes out hard and I don’t bother to hide the fury. “How the fuck did she get away?”
“Boss?” Seth questions and it only makes the irritation grow.
A seething anger is in command of every aspect of my being right now. Nothing is going right and nothing is under control. “Where the fuck is she?” I scream the question, feeling each word claw up my throat on the way out.
“Bethany Fawn’s car is located at Forty-two Bayview.”
“Forty-two Bayview.” I breathe out the address, craning my neck beneath the windshield to look at the small green street sign and then to my left as if one of them will magically be Bayview. Neither of them are and that fact is why I slam my fist on the dashboard as I simmer with pure rage. She fucking left me. Knowing there are men after her, she fucking ran from me!
“Four streets behind you, Mr. Cross.” I focus on what I can control and then finally breathe.
“Four streets?” I swallow after repeating what he said, knowing she’s safe. She’s within reach.
“Make a U-turn when you’re able. It looks like she stayed there for…” The word stretches out as he pauses and then continues, “…two minutes. She’s on the move now, backing out of the driveway.” Seth uses the GPS in her car to track her and gives me directions. “I’m still at the back entrance to the neighborhood and it looks like she’s coming this way. She’ll be driving by me if she stays on course.”
“Follow her.” Resolution takes over, following a pang of regret. Running my hand down my face and pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to pinpoint the moment I lost her. Truly lost her. She shouldn’t have done that. Something happened.
The break-in. I slam my head back, exhaling a tight breath and loathing the life I live. No shit, something happened. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“On her tail,” Seth says over the speaker. His obliviousness to my state is a kind gift in this moment as I press my palms to my eyes and focus on what I can do to keep her safe.
“Call for backup and continue following her but keep your distance and keep me informe
d. I want to know where she’s going and I never want her out of your sight.”
“Understood, Boss.”
“I’m not letting her go,” I tell him. My voice is firm and resolute, although my words are more for me than for him.
“Of course not,” he answers although his tone has changed. Softer, not consoling, but understanding. A sedan skirts around me, a newer Mazda with an older man at the wheel who looks at me with a crease marred into his wrinkled forehead as his car passes mine.
Forcing a semblance of a smile to my lips, I offer him a small wave and pretend to be someone just passing by. As if I could ever just pass by Bethany. I would never be able to not feel her presence in a crowded room. I could never ignore it. Let alone allow her to ignore me.
“Is everything all right?” Seth asks after a moment of quiet.
“No, I’ll brief you once she’s secure.”
There’s a pause before he asks, “Is there anything else I can do?”
“She is your only priority at the moment.”
It’s quiet again, but I can’t hang up yet. Not without Seth acknowledging what I just said. My gaze lifts to the rearview as a man exits his front door. As he walks to the car in his driveway, the headlights flash and it’s only then that I’m aware of how dark it’s gotten.
It wasn’t that late when I left the cemetery. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. It was foolish to think she would be.
It took me far too long to get to her. I never would have guessed when I got there that her brunette hair would tumble into a halo upon the tiled floor, followed by her small frame. My hand stings from the impact of bashing it against the dashboard a moment ago and I clench it into a tight fist, staring at the silver scar below my knuckle as I remember how she fell.
Fuck, she didn’t even make a sound for the longest second.
I thought she was dead. I thought he’d killed her. I thought Marcus had ripped her away from me, getting to her first, when she fell out onto the kitchen floor. I hate that the scar stares back at me in this moment.