After a little digging, I found that a “Nina Thomas” owned property out in The Rockaways. It was particularly close to Fort Tilden, a largely abandoned former military base.
In high school, Nash, Drew and I used to drive out there with friends to hang out and get up to no good—the memory of which knocked me back a moment. On the other hand, a place like that would be incredibly attractive to Reese.
I eyeballed the card with Nina’s number on it and picked up my phone. She wasn’t going to give up Reese. Well, not on purpose, anyway.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lucie
Villains
The room around me spun like a dizzying cage. I was so mad at him, but even more so at myself, my curse of a “gift,” and the shittiest luck of the draw I could possibly imagine. Why me? What the fuck did I do in a former life?
Suddenly restless, I hobbled around simmering with a fury I didn’t quite know what to do with. I found myself in the kitchen where I started cleaning everything. Wiping down the counter. Straightening things on shelves. Reorganizing the silverware drawer. I started washing dishes, but after rinsing one, I pulled out the garbage and started chucking pieces at the bottom to hear the satisfying cracks as they broke and shattered.
When I ran out of freshly cleaned dishes or glasses to destroy, I marched to the bedroom and stripped the bed. I had the urge to burn the sheets in a fit, but settled for slamming my fists on the pile on the floor until I lost momentum and completely deteriorated.
Within my heap of bones and muscle, I sobbed. Angry, bawling at wit’s end. I knew it would pass, but the ache radiating from my chest wouldn’t relent. After a while, the ugly whimpering ceased. I noticed the apartment was now filled with light, the sun having shifted to its late morning position.
I collected myself, wiped my face off on the bunched up sheets, and stood. As I stepped out of the mass of bedding, I grappled for balance before going to the kitchen for some ibuprofen. Once I retrieved an unbroken glass from the far left cabinet, a folded piece of paper on the floor in the front hall caught my eye. It had apparently been slipped under the door. I stared at it as if it might explode, but eventually curiosity won over.
Lucie,
It’s dangerous for you to be here alone right now. Please stay with Nash for at least a few days. You’ll be safer there.
Whether you believe it or not, you made me whole. You are magic, my Lu. No matter what happens, I love you.
Grey
The letter trembled like an earthquake in my hands before I balled it up, threw it at the door, and screamed at it. I just got my shit under control and he had to go and say something like that.
~
Me: Hey—mind if I come stay a few days?
VIVI: Not at all, but WTF is going on?
I went to gather things I’d need from the bathroom and came back to mild panic.
V: HEY! What happened?
V: Hello!? Please answer, you’re freaking me out.
V: Lucie?!!!!??
NASH: IS SOMETHIGN HAPPNIENG?!
V: JFC, sausage fingers, type slower. And stop shouty-capping all your texts.
Me: Sorry, ran to the other room.
Me: Got my memory back. Mostly. Panicking a little.
V: OMG!! This is great news, but I totally get it. Yes, come stay. We will discuss! <3
N: WHERE’S PRINCE CHARMING? IS HE PRIMPING FOR OUR DATE?
V: I’m serious about shouty caps
N: I LIKE SHOUTY CAPS SO I’M USING THEM. SPANK ME LATER
Me: Not going into detail over text. Talk when I get there. I’m fine.
V: Yeah, I believe that. I have a staff meeting and Mr. Shouty Caps-hole is in Jersey for a case. I’ll be home in a couple hours.
N: LATER, WE GRILL…YOU :)
V: YOU’RE AN IDIOT <--necessary use
N: MY SHOUTY CAPS TURN YOU ON, DON’T THEY?
I threw the phone in my purse, but it kept chiming with new messages as Vivi and Nash continued their unnecessary sexting ritual. I put it on silent so I could pack my bag in peace and without being forced to imagine what other foreplay they insisted on sharing with me.
By the time I got to their place, it was late in the afternoon. Drained, I sat on the bed in the guest room and kicked up the AC. I snatched the afghan folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over me as I curled into a ball. I hoped sleep would come, but it didn’t. I was wide-awake and subject to every horrible thought that came to mind—specifically, the attack. The faces became clearer; it definitely had not involved Grey, but I felt no better.
Seized by the memory of choking on a gag while struggling to free myself, I could almost feel the spittle land on my face as that murderer spewed threats and insults about my “traitor” father. I didn’t even know what happened to him.
“Are you dying?” Vivi said as she entered the room.
“Jesus!” I jumped. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Well, don’t clutch your pearls too tightly, Mildred,” she teased. She went directly to the air conditioner and turned it down. “It’s fucking Arctic in here.”
I slid off the bed and walked over to her. I was about to dive in for a much-needed hug when she froze. Her eyes caught somewhere below my face as if she was staring at my boobs.
“My face is up here,” I joked.
She didn’t laugh but grabbed my shoulders and pushed my head to the side.
“Oh, I will kill him,” she seethed. “And I will let Nash kill him before I kill him again. And then, maybe, he will die.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She turned me toward the mirror and pointed to the sides of my neck.
There was bruising. “Shit.” I turned to her. “It’s not what you think. Not really.”
By the look on her face, I didn’t even need her sarcastic reply to know she didn’t believe it. “Never heard that from a domestic violence victim before.”
“I’m not a victim,” I snapped. A destructively naïve moron, perhaps, but not a victim. “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”
Okay, that sounded bad.
I rushed to amend the statement before her head exploded. “He didn’t even realize he was doing it!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He was dreaming.”
Her eyes narrowed, but her attitude hadn’t changed. “What? Sleep homicide? Please don’t pepper me with bullshit excuses, Lucie. You know I can’t—”
“He wasn’t there, Viv,” I interrupted, demonstrating by waving a hand in front of my face. Who knew if it helped my case? I wasn’t even sure why I was defending him. “When I finally got his attention, it was like I could see him again.”
She quieted a little, the doctor in her going to work and the wheels churning even as her jaw remained tight.
“How do you know he was dreaming?”
“He told me it was a nightmare.”
“About what?”
I blanched. I didn’t want to give her ammunition against him. I needed the focus off him right now. “Something that happened in the army.”
She sucked her teeth and asked me for a few more specifics. Finally, she was vaguely calm again. “Could be PTSD.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Well, I was all riled and ready to kick some ass!” she said with a huff. “But some vets do experience episodes like that after service. I’ve worked with a couple, and I can tell you it can be devastatingly brutal.”
My shoulders eased away from my ears. “I appreciate your protectiveness, but I’d rather talk about my amnesia and how I don’t really have it anymore.”
She gasped. “I completely forgot. Jesus, I’m such an asshole. I’m sorry I didn’t focus on that first, but I saw the bruises and—”
I rolled my eyes and forced a smile. “I understand. I just … I’ve been so on edge and I wanted to sleep but my mind is racing with everything, and Grey, um, leaving on top of it.”
“Hold
up, he left again? Ugh,” she said, her hand spread in front of my face. “I need some wine for this. And you do, too. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”
I forced a laugh and followed her downstairs to the kitchen. My attention was consistently drawn to look out every window as I passed. I had to scan the street, as much as I could see, before moving on. Part of me wanted to see Grey outside, waiting or even keeping guard. The other part expected a gun aimed at my head.
“What do you keep looking for?”
I snapped my attention to Vivi as she poured wine into two stemless goblets. “Huh? No one—I mean, nothing.”
Eyebrows at their highest point, Vivi perfectly expressed her disbelief without a word. I sat down at the breakfast bar and she followed. We clinked our glasses and took a swig.
“Paranoid,” I said. “I can’t stop feeling as if he’ll be here any second.”
“Grey?”
“No, the killer.” My heart sank. The word, unfortunately, made me think of Grey. “I can see his face; I just can’t remember his name. I feel like I’ve said it, but the memory’s all muddled.”
“You remember who it was?” Vivi was stunned, her voice pitching all over the place.
I nodded. Recounting the incident with Nina, I tried to bring her up to speed on the facts of what I knew and what happened. Before I could finish, though, Vivi was hugging me.
“Holy fucking hell, woman,” she whispered into my shoulder. “Even knowing everything that was in the police report, I didn’t imagine something so horrific.”
I patted her back, curious as to how the person who suffered the actual trauma so often needs to comfort those around them. “It’s okay.”
“No, no it’s not. I mean, this creep needs to be put away. For the torture you all endured, he needs worse done to him.”
I closed my eyes. Images of my guardians flashed before me, stoic and brave as the killer salivated over his work, feeding off our anguish. I couldn’t remember how long he’d dragged it out before he shot them.
Something soft patted my cheeks and my eyes flew open. Vivi was wiping tears away with a tissue. “Let’s go sit in the living room.”
“Do I have to sit on your lap?” I joked, feeling unbearably heavy with the full weight of the ordeal and the truth of Grey.
“It’s an open invitation.”
“I did manage to break his nose before the fire broke out, too,” I said as we settled into the sofa. “I remember pitching forward and head-butting him in the face.”
“That must’ve felt good.”
“Watching that sadist stumble back with blood leaking through his fingers? Yeah, it was satisfying,” I agreed. “Not for long, though. He threw me to the ground and shot whoever was helping him. I can’t remember his name either. Oh, hold on, Langley? He was the other body they found. Oh, my God, I completely forgot there was another guy there! I suppose I should tell the police, right?”
“Later. Finish this first.”
“Well, he’d broken an antique oil lamp when he threw me down, so I guess that’s how the fire started. I never got up off the floor because I felt the fire on my arms and I passed out coughing. I still don’t know how I got out.”
Vivi pulled me into her arms. I heard her sniffle and it set me off.
“I can’t cry anymore,” I whined.
“Shut up and do it,” she ordered in an emotional voice.
It was a surprising relief to sit together and blubber like babies for a few minutes. We hadn’t been sitting there long when it all came to an abrupt halt.
“Wine. Bawling. Babes hugging,” Nash began, disappointment evident in his tone. “This is not the porno I’d hoped to walk in on.”
Both of us turned with mirroring looks of disgust on our faces. Vivi stood and walked up to him. She smiled sweetly and slapped him across the face.
“Unnecessary.” Clearly, he wasn’t all that surprised.
“It wasn’t that hard.”
“That is definitely not what she said.” His grin was ridiculous.
“You’re such a pig,” she replied, laughing.
He leaned in to kiss her and embraced her as well. “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips. She returned the sentiment, kissing him again. I had never minded their affection when I lived with them, but now it made me think of Grey. However conflicted I was, I still didn’t know what to think of it all, except that …
“He loves me,” I murmured.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Lucie
Nightmare
A couple days later, I looked and felt like a zombie. Both nights were filled with sleep-zapping nightmares about Russia, though in the dreams, I was an adult. Grey was there, too, and every time he died in the most horrific manner by my hand. I was a mess. Neither Vivi nor Nash were fond of leaving me alone, even though I never told them what Grey had confessed to me. As betrayed as I felt, I couldn’t betray him. I was too preoccupied trying to reconcile the job with the man I saw in every stupid preview I’d had. How could he be the same person?
After much coaxing, I convinced Vivi and Nash to go for brunch. I swore to them I’d get some sleep, though I knew I’d never manage it. I’d probably just gnaw off the last of my fingernails, but at least I’d get to do it without scrutiny.
As soon as they’d gone, I decided to watch some TV, hoping it would knock me out as it had tended to do in the past. The first thing that popped on was an action movie I’d seen a few times and recalled having liked. The scene was a flashback where the hero—a spy—is on a job and has a change of heart but gets shot in the back.
As I watched, my thoughts predictably veered to Grey. Had I changed his heart? He said I made him whole and that he loved me. He left because he assumed I didn’t trust him, that I couldn’t. I wanted to, but at the moment, Grey was right. It was too hard to trust myself. How much had I missed in the haze of love and lust?
Aggravated, I jumped to my feet and paced, questioning myself, Grey, and everything else. No, I didn’t like that he was … what he was. I hated it. Did I hate him? No, but the coincidence between what happened to me and his job was too close for comfort. It made my blood run cold.
Suddenly little things made perfect sense—his paranoid search of my apartment, his knee-jerk reaction to grabbing his shoulder. The way he hovered around me like a bodyguard while we walked around the city was a flag, too, but it was also endearingly protective. I’d been blind to everything but my perfect, promised future. Does he truly love me? I didn’t know if it even mattered right now.
Deep in my bones, I believed Grey wouldn’t harm me. I was scared by what he did, by what he does, but not of him. He seemed to know I was still in danger, but even the threat of another attempt on my life didn’t consume me as much as the fear that he wouldn’t come back. The idea that everything I believed about him could be wrong was the definition of torture.
I folded into a chair under the weight of it. “It means I love him,” I told myself, eyes closing and squeezing shut. But could I forgive him? I hoped so. Because I wanted him. I wanted our future. Was that foolish? If what I’d seen was true, it wasn’t, and I obviously could forgive. The question would be, then, how the hell do I get there?
Sitting still was no longer an option, my mind speeding on multiple tracks at once and taking my stomach for the ride. I worked to wear down the floorboards as I mulled through my scattered thoughts. My previews, my nightmares … the attack. Threads wove together and tangled until one little piece jumped forward.
“Patrick Reese will never touch you again.”
“Holy shit.” I wanted to slap myself for letting it slide by me when Grey said it. In all fairness, I was distraught.
The satisfaction of another piece settling into place was short lived when it then struck me that Grey knew the man who killed my guardians and attempted to kill me. What else did he know? Questions overwhelmed me, but there were too many that he needed to answer for me.
I was even more pissed and terrif
ied at the same time. Once I had Grey back, I was going to kick his ass for not disclosing. Asshole. Who I love so damn much it hurts. The worst feeling of foreboding barreled through me with the thought. I felt so lost, powerless.
I need a preview.
They always seemed to center around Grey anyway, right? Fine. Let’s have it, I told myself. While previews typically came unbidden, I wasn’t about to wait for an invitation today. Let’s go. Our lives could depend on it.
I sat in the nearest chair and sucked in a deep, calming breath—not that it helped. Anticipation shook my body but nothing happened. No tingles, no rush. I shut my eyes, waiting.
Still nothing.
I dug tiny crescents with my fingernails into the smooth leather beneath my hands, my patience obliterated.
“Show me,” I growled … at myself. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but I wasn’t taking no for an answer. A whimpered “please” followed before mercy fluttered through me. My eyes closed again. The images began flickering like an early silent film, and I ever so briefly wondered if it wasn’t clearer because I had forced it, or if it could be a lie.
Reese’s eyes are flat and soulless as he peers around a corner of stone. He holds the gun against his cheek with adoration. Dark skies swirl overhead, gusts of wind threatening a storm. When his sights lock on something, he stills and an ugly grin spreads over his thin lips.
Grey—who moves fluidly, working his way toward Reese, a gun in hand. He stops suddenly, affecting a physical change as if he’d stepped out of his disguise. He whips around to face the opposite direction, bearing an expression of horror.
Reese’s expression is cocky. Locking his arm steady against the structure that hides him, he fires three shots. Grey is hit in the shoulder first and then his back before falling to the ground face first.
My heart stopped. It had to have, because the pain in my chest was more excruciating than anything I’d ever experienced. I heard nothing, and my lungs screamed for air. It was as though they’d sealed shut. Eventually, I coughed and sputtered. Spots danced before my eyes.
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