“Fine,” Noir said, his tone dripping with dark sarcasm. “Go. You’ll come back.”
But Noir flinched when he heard the front door of the manor slam shut.
He let out a breath through his nose, refusing to immediately clean his wounds.
Now what?
Noir was still staring at the door three hours later, waiting for her to come back just so he could rub in her face that she had. His golden eyes were still bronzed; he continued to feelangry, despite having carved into two dead henchmen that had been pissing him off. But that hadn’t helped anything. He needed to see her; it was only her that would make his anger dissipate.
He felt like a caged tiger, pacing back and forth in the foyer, just waiting, just waiting. His eyes were narrowed, prepared. He even had a whole speech planned of what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. He would slap her, of course, for caring about another man besides him, but that would be all and then everything could go back to normal.
Except she still hadn’t walked through the door.
His eyes glanced over at the grandfather clock that rested against the wall of the hallway, the clock ticking as its pendulum moved back and forth. He was sure that if he stared at it long enough, he would be hypnotized, or at least numbed, but Noir couldn’t fathom distractions right now.
He watched as another hour ticked by excruciatingly slowly.
Where could Keirah have possibly gone? Noir had the news on in the other room at a volume where he could distinctly hear what was being reported. They reported about him constantly, and actually pointed out that his only known associate, Bombshell, had not been with him when he attacked Commissioner Jarrett. He would have been thrilled about such coverage, knowing he had interrupted regular television, and when the news shows actually came on, they were filled with him.
Except…it wasn’t the same now that Keirah was gone.
But where could she be? There was a fucking ‘J’ carved into her cheek, for Chrissake! Where could she possibly go that wouldn’t immediately point the finger at who she was? The cops would arrest her, and then he would have to go in and rescue her again. Even if she managed to elude the population, where could she stay? She left without money and didn’t grab her keys. She had to be on foot.
It was starting to upset him, and maybe he was even slightly worried, but as of yet, the newsroom had yet to report that Keirah had beenspotted or taken into custody. But that didn’t mean she was okay.
Though they were living at the outskirts of Onyx, secluded from the main part of the city, there were still crooks and killers who inhabited the surrounding areas, and she was an obvious and no doubt easy target for them. Since she had no form of transportation or place to go, she might just be wandering around. He would have no idea where she was. And she had no means of protection either.
He hated the fact that he was worried about her. She had slapped him across the face. And he hadn’t even provoked her! Okay, so he attempted to kill someone she actually cared about. That didn’t warrant physical violence, did it?
This was all Commissioner Jarrett’s fault. If it wasn’t for him, Keirah would still be here, safe, with him. He walked over to the television, wondering just how the good commissioner was faring in his hospital bed.
“—just four hours ago,” a reporter informed the people who were currently watching her. She was standing outside Onyx General, and in the background, Noir could see a multitude of other rival reporters probably saying the same thing. “We have no word on any change in Jarrett’s condition. However, as we have stated before, he is in critical condition. If we get any updates, we’ll be the first to let you know.”
He still wasn’t dead?
How was this man still alive?
Noir took his tongue and pressed it against his teeth, making it squeak as his mind started to form yet another plan.
If Commissioner Bryan Jarrett was dead, Keirah would have no choice but to finally get over him. Jarrett was Keirah’s only connection to society—that family of hers didn’t count—and Noir needed to get rid of such a connection in order to ensure that Keirah would become his, fully and completely. What if Noir and Jarrett were facing each other down and the only way to end such a fight was death? Would Keirah take a bullet for Noir, or would she push herself in front of Jarrett?
She would sacrifice herself for him, no doubt. But it wouldn’t be as automatic as it would be if it was anyone else threatening his life, and that’s what enraged him. Oddly enough, he wasn’t angry at Keirah. All of his anger was directed at the man who refusing to die, who had caused Keirah to feel tied to a society which had now shunned her.
He needed to die, and this time Noir would ensure it happened.
Yes, Keirah would be upset with him, but she would come around. His eyes involuntarily flickered toward the front door, but nothing had changed. This only added fuel to the fire, his resolve hardening.
Commissioner Jarrett would die, and he would die tonight.
Noir had to park his van a couple of blocks away from the hospital due to the commotion currently surrounding the building. He didn’t mind walking though. He needed to clear his head anyway, and by doing that, he kept his body active. He glanced at himself in the vanity mirror before leaving, however, making sure that everything was in place. He was dressed as a police officer, with a fitted navy blue uniform with black, polished shoes, and, most importantly, a police officer’s hat one size too big so it would fall over his face and hide the majority of it. His hands were covered in white, pressed gloves and his red-tinted hair was pulled up into the cap due to how recognizable it was. His makeup had been fully washed off so as to not add any suspicion of who he really was.
He stepped out of the car and began to walk down the street, twirling a nightstick that went with the uniform and whispering a jovial tune. Though his scars were prominent on his face, the night, along with the shadows that cascaded across his face, masked them quite well. Nobody would know who he really was; nobody would look at him twice. He was supposed to be there—at least, cops were. And all he wanted was to visit Jarrett in the hospital to make sure he was okay.Would they really refuse a fellow officer that right? He didn’t think so.
When he walked up to the entrance of the hospital, he was suddenly surrounded by reporters hoping to get some sort of story from him. He just grinned with delight and made a silent motion of zipping his lips and throwing away the key, indicating that he couldn’t comment. The truth of the matter was, however, that Noir was aware just how distinct his speech was, and if he attempted to speak, he might be found out and all of this would be for nothing.
He managed to slide past the hungry reporters wanting nothing more than a story, and sidled up to the entrance of the hospital. A couple of officers were guarding the entrance, but when Noir flashed them a badge, they waved him through. Another dark grin touched his face.
Everything was going according to plan.
Noir walked through the lobby, and though he didn’t know where Jarrett was placed, he knew that if he followed the trail of police officers, he would find what he was looking for. It took him fifteen minutes, but he finally landed on the third floor, a few doors down from one of the hospital’s more prominent suites with six—six—police officers guarding the doors.
How was he supposed to get through?
“Excuse me?” a deep voice rumbled from behind Noir. “May I see your badge and some identification?”
Noir froze. Suddenly, he saw the officers surrounding the door turn around and look at him.
“Sir?” the man asked once again, reaching out to grab Noir’s forearm. “No one is allowed back here without proper identification and a badge.” He glanced down at Noir’s badge on his jacket lapel. “A real one.” He looked up and beckoned a few of the officers toward him.
Noir knew he had been caught. He couldn’t struggle, couldn’t fight it. He had acted too quickly, without fully laying out every single detail of his plan and making it
into perfection.
It wasn’t long before he was being handcuffed and led downstairs to an awaiting police car.
Fuck.
“This just in!” a reporter exclaimed. Keirah glanced up from the leg she was currently bandaging to regard the small motel television set, hoping that the reporter was not about to announce Commissioner Jarrett’s death. “The man responsible for Commissioner Bryan Jarrett’s condition has just been arrested at Onyx General where the man known only as Noir has been captured. He was thought to be at the hospital in order to finish the job—.”
Keirah’s heart stopped. She didn’t hear the reporter say that Jarrett was thought to survive the initial stabbing, didn’t hear anything, not even her own breathing. All of her anger at him suddenly dissipated in that moment.
She had to get him back.
Keirah had been sitting on the edge of the motel bed for the past three days, eating little, showering once, and making contact with absolutely no one. Her eyes were glued to the television screen for countless hours, hearing how Commissioner Bryan Jarrett was making a recovery. But that wasn’t why she was watching mindless television, filtering the important things with the not-so-important things.
She needed to hear about him. Where he was, what he was doing, if he had escaped yet.
He would escape, wouldn’t he? He always did.
But…but something inside of Keirah said this was different, that Noir wouldn’t find escape as easy as he once did. Maybe it was because of the fight they had had recently. Keirah felt her heart break just thinking about it.
How had he gotten arrested anyway? Yes, Keirah had heard that Noir had gotten caught because he had entered a crowded hospital dressed as a police officer with a badge but no means of identification. Keirah ignored the fact that he was in the same hospital Jarrett was recuperating in, no doubt trying to finish the job he hadn’t completed. But the fact remained, Onyx’s resident Prince of Crime had gotten caught because of some stupid mistake.
The thing was, Noir never made mistakes. In all the time Keirah had known him, he never made a mistake. Unless one counted being in love with Keirah as a mistake—that was why he had gotten caught the first time. But this time was downright completely unlike Noir. He never made mistakes; it just didn’t happen.
Noir was known for poring over countless details for numerous hours just to ensure that everything went according to plan. He would carry everything out by the exact minute—hell, the exact second. If something was off—if Noir’s gut was telling him something was wrong—he would call everything off, despite how much time, effort, and detail went into the plan. If it didn’t feel right, he wouldn’t risk it. At least not when it involved Keirah.
But what had caused Noir to forget something as necessary as a form of identification?
It was the fight, a voice inside of Keirah’s head said firmly. It had to be the fight.
That would mean that in some way, Noir’s capture was Keirah’s fault. If he was distracted by her abrupt departure, that pertinent detail could have slipped his mind. Keirah knew that after leaving, she couldn’t concentrate on anything else, so the first motel she saw, she paid for a room and didn’t leave. Her thoughts were clouding her logic; she couldn’t really eat, let alone carry out an assassination attempt.
So why would he do it? Even though Keirah was incredibly upset that Noir actually went to the hospital to finish taking Jarrett’s life, she idly wondered why he would do such a thing when he obviously didn’t have everything as planned out as he thought.
He’s angry, the same voice murmured. He’s jealous. Come on Keirah, think about it. Jarrett is the only person you went out of your way to defend, the only link to society you have. Andie and your mom, they probably hate you right now, and you can’t blame them for that. If he gets rid of Jarrett, he has you all to himself. You will be his completely and fully.
“But I already am,” Keirah murmured to herself, her eyes mindlessly fixated on the television though her brain wasn’t processing any of what it was saying, what it was showing.
He doesn’t think so, her mind taunted, and for a moment, remained silent. Then, out of the blue, it asked, So what’s the plan, Key? What are we going to do?
“Get him back,” she repeated, her voice just below a whisper. But she felt her resolve harden, and she said it again, “I’m going to get him back.”
But how?
She blinked once, focusing on the television once again, rather than her thoughts. She had no idea where he was right then, and even if she did, she didn’t exactly have any sort of plan for how to help him escape.
First thing’s first; find out where he was.
It took three more hours of flipping through multiple news channels, but Keirah finally got her answer.
“—and now an update concerning the man responsible for Commissioner Jarrett’s stay in the hospital. He was arraigned at the temporary police station in downtown Onyx, and, as usual, the police have yet to discoverNoir’s true identity, despite fingerprinting him and running him through multiple up-to-date state and federal criminal databases. He was held in lockdown at the station for the past three days, but as of right now, he is being transferred to Underwood Mental Institution. Many people are complaining, given the fact that he escaped while holding a female worker captive, but the representative for the Asylum has guaranteed —”
Keirah allowed her thoughts to overtake her mind once again. He was going to be held at Underwood Mental Institution. That was the best thing that Keirah could have ever asked for. She knew that layout like the back of her hand; it would be easy to find him.
Already a plan was starting to form in her mind, but Keirah was smart enough to know she couldn’t carry it out alone. She would need some help, and she knew just where to get it.
It took Keirah another couple of hours to track down Noir’s henchmen. Since Noir had killed the ones she knew about when they had finished making love in the truck they had borrowed only a few days ago, Keirah had to return to the house to see if Noir had purposefully left anyone behind.
And he had.
There were three henchmen, Kyle, Stewart, and Donald, lounging around in the living room, watching some game show that reminded Keirah of Wheel of Fortune. When they heard Keirah enter the room, they immediately stiffened and turned the television off, remembering what Noir had done to the last two men who had tried anything with her.
“Boys,” Keirah murmured, grabbing their attention. Just because Noir was captured did not mean they were safe. From anyone or anything. “I’m sure you’re all aware that Noir was captured at Onyx General approximately four days ago. I’m not sure if you know this, but the reporters on every single news channel are reporting that he is being transferred to Underwood Mental Institution today.”
“Yeah,” one of the henchmen, Donald, said before shrugging his shoulders. “So?”
Keirah regarded Donald with a dry stare. “So?” Keirah repeated, her eyes narrowing in his direction. “Did you just say ‘so? ’ Listen, Donald, what were you before hooking up with Noir? A small time crook who stole nice cars and then sold them to mechanics so those bastards can make more money than they paid you in order to sell off their parts? Do you really want to go back to that? And you know you can’t go back to normalcy, because whether you choose to stay or not doesn’t matter. We all know Noir is going to get out one way or another. And if he finds out I enlisted you to help him escape and you had refused? I think the span of your life will be drastically cut short. So.” She looked from Donald to Kyle to Stewart and back to Donald again, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you in or are you out?”
“You have a plan?” Kyle asked doubtfully.
Keirah nodded her head in affirmation. “I do,” she told him.
“Why should we listen to you?” Stewart asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His stare was not hard, but rather unsure, as though he didn’t know whether this inexperienced woman could lead them to a successful resc
ue attempt. “Let’s face it. I remember before you left, you and Noir got into a pretty big fight. How do I know you’re not going to just lead us there, have us get caught, and walk away with a mansion as a house and the money all to yourself?”
“Don’t be stupid, Stewart,” Keirah said, rolling her eyes. “I need you guys in order to free Noir. Just because we fight doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other, despite how hard that might be for you to understand.”
“How are we even supposed to get in to Underwood Mental Institution?” Kyle asked, his hands in his hair, as though this whole discussion was freaking him out. “Ever since Noir escaped with you, surely they’ve beefed up their security.”
Keirah smiled darkly at this. “Don’t worry, boys,” she said, her voice firm and playful at the same time. “I have everything covered. I have a plan. What I need to know now is whether you’re in or you’re out. And if you are out,” she quickly added, “then I wish you the best of luck with your shortened life.”
Reese
Reese woke to the smell of flowers. Colors permeated the familiar sight of Ollo’s bedroom clasped in bundles throughout the room, and she took a moment to smile at the beauty. But rarely were flowers given for no particular reason, and when that thought crossed her mind, she remembered.
They were gone. Her family was gone.
Suddenly, her heart ached so much and felt so heavy, she honestly believed it would squeeze the life out of her before collapsing out of her chest.
Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe it was just a really bad dream.
The sight of the flowers, however, reminded her that such fantasies were merely that—fantasies—and she suddenly hated the flowers. They were ugly reminders of her worst fear. Her family was gone. And she was alone.
Well, not completely alone. She was in Ollo’s apartment, after all, but she didn’t have living family as far as she knew, so she couldn’t be sure how long she would be able to stay with him.
Catalyst: Book 2 in The Dark Paradise Chronicles Page 27