by W Winters
I wasn’t right for a while. Days, maybe a week or two. I heard what people said to me but it took a moment too long to process, because all I could hear were the cries of a child wanting the bad man to go away. I understood how I felt, but the way my body responded and the way my thoughts weren’t keeping up, I just wasn’t right. My mind was stuck on the sound of a small boy crying out in time with the crunch of the woman’s skull hitting the concrete pavement.
I can take a lot. I like to believe I’m a strong woman, but I’m slipping just like I did then, only now it’s so much worse and seemingly slower. I’m slowly falling into a place I don’t want to be and I don’t know how to stop it. There’s no side of a well to cling to… I’m simply falling into an abyss.
My phone pings again; it’s my sister guilting me into taking time off since I hardly ever come home anymore.
I wish that I could. I wish I could just pause all of this shit like I did that video in the back office when I first started crying. Freeze it in time and let it turn stale while I go back home as if nothing’s wrong. As if there isn’t a security detail on my ass and a serial killer telling me he’ll protect me. Calling me his. His Delilah.
A shiver snakes its way down my back, leaving a chill in its wake that even the hot coffee can’t undo. Maybe I could leave and all of this would simply pause. Maybe Cody could come with me up to my sister’s. He should be back now any minute. He could stay by my side and protect me from all the warring thoughts in my head. Maybe he’d even call me his. Now I know I’m dreaming.
With a roll of my tired eyes, I shake it all off. The self-pity and delusions combined.
I type back a message and then delete it: I wish I could.
I will talk to my boss and find a way. That’s the response I settle on. Cadence thanks me, says she loves me. All the while I know I’m a liar. I could confess it all and tell her there’s no way I’d risk bringing the mess I’m in to her doorstep, adding to her madness, or I can stay the workaholic sister who’s trying but failing, and never comes home. I choose the latter.
The thud of my phone hitting the counter comes just before a creak of a wooden floorboard. It’s a sound that freezes everything inside of me. With my body still, my eyes locked on the doorway it came from, I can barely breathe.
Someone’s in the house. I can just barely make out their shadow.
The shadow shifts along the stark white wall in the hallway and before I can move, I hear his voice. The voice that haunted me last night says, “I already took your gun.”
My back heel had pivoted, the desperate need for a defense already decided, but with a harsh swallow, I stand firm where I am, attempting to calm myself.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” I manage to speak, my voice tighter than I’d like, but it comes out loud enough.
My gaze flickers to the butcher block. I could at the very least, arm myself with a steak knife. He called me his, he left me flowers, but this man is deranged.
“Never.” His answer is spoken with conviction and I’m once again pulled to the shadow that’s stopped in the hallway just beyond the kitchen. The bright daylight has dimmed, but there’s plenty shining through the window, enough to see the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders.
I remember the security guard, his sheer size and the balls he had to have to walk beside me.
Swallowing thickly, I question him, “Then why take my gun?” I even shrug, as if I wouldn’t use it. As if I believe him for one second when he says he won’t hurt me.
His chuckle is unexpected because it comes out so easily. A second passes and my heart hammers wildly, not at all enjoying his amusement. “You know why, Delilah. Let’s not play games; our time is limited.”
“What do you want?”
Tick, tock, thump, thump; my heartbeat races as I wait for the man to do something or say something. Time goes by far too slowly.
Roses. Red. Blood. Roses. Red. Blood.
Again I’m bombarded by images and confronted with the gruesome reality, unable to pretend I’m not terrified. “Please don’t hurt me,” I say, and my plea is joined by a half-backward step of my bare feet on the floor.
I’ve never wanted to run so much in my life.
“Nothing I want to do to you involves pain.” Marcus’s answer calms the fight-or-flight instinct just barely.
“What do you want?” I repeat the question, attempting to numb myself as I trace the outline of his shadow with my eyes and inwardly curse Cody. How could he have gotten in here? How utterly useless is this protective detail?
“The note, it came from the desk of a man called Herman.” Marcus seems to huff a laugh at the name.
“Herman threatened me?” I ask quietly and calmly, although every inch of my skin pricks with fear. With my head tilted, and my voice sounding subservient more than anything, I brace myself with a hand on the counter and it takes every fiber of my being to listen. I settle on telling him the truth.
“Herman. I don’t know a Herman.”
I sound ridiculous to my own ears. I like to think of myself as a good actress under pressure, but my abilities seem to be failing me.
“He was hired to protect them. He paid off the cops who tampered with the evidence of your case that was just dismissed.”
“The case against Ross Brass?” I question, little pieces of the puzzle falling into place. My tired mind catching up on details. Ross Brass was let go after evidence was handled improperly. “Ross paid this man to get him off and to threaten me?”
“Yes.”
“Why threaten me? Why—” Before I can practically fall into the familiar steps of conducting an interrogation to uncover motive, Marcus answers simply. As he speaks, his shadow shifts, and the floor creaking drags my gaze back to him.
“Because you mocked him. You bruised his sensitive ego. Apparently he doesn’t like the notion of rotting in hell.” His words sink in, my mind finally filled in and crisper than it was ten minutes ago. I’m not certain I believe Marcus. To threaten someone under the DEA… after he got off scot-free? He’d have to be an idiot to do it.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I do.”
“How can I prove that?”
His answer comes just as quickly as my question. A tit for tat, a back-and-forth. Although I don’t care for his conclusion. “You can’t.”
The revelation sits between us, the air thickening. My initial thought was that the threat was from Ross in some way, but not directly. A fan or an accomplice. If they rot, you rot with them.
“You didn’t sleep and I thought the information would give you some peace.” Marcus’s comment brings me back to the present. To the other monster taking control of my life.
“That’s why you’re here?”
“That and to tell you those men outside are unreliable and can’t be trusted.”
“If they knew you were here—”
“They wouldn’t do anything because Taylor’s right-hand man works for Brass. He’s in his pocket.”
“No—”
He cuts me off, saying, “Taylor you can trust, but I wouldn’t count on the others.”
He’s met with silence as the heat kicks on and I’m suddenly very aware of how the lowered temperature has wrapped itself around me.
“I’ll protect you.”
“Why?” The single word leaves me breathless as I stare at the unmoving shadow. Why me? Why does he care? I have to ask and fear settles inside of me, knowing that wasn’t the right move. For some mysterious reason, this man feels a connection between us; I’m only safe because of that. With a cold sweat lingering on my skin, I know I’ve messed up.
Marcus doesn’t answer. Instead he says something entirely unexpected.
“I know you’re going to want to tell him. You trust Cody more than me. I’m all right with that. I accept it and he’ll be able to pull strings I can’t. Tell him.”
There’s a pain etched in his voice and I hate that I feel sympathy. I sho
uldn’t feel anything for this man.
The shadow moves, an arm raising as he adds, “I’m going to leave a USB flash drive with some files for you.”
“Why are you helping me?” I question him further, needing an answer. Tell me the truth, Marcus, a voice pleads in the back of my head.
He ignores me, taking a small step forward as he says, “I want you to close your eyes and when you do, I’m going to come near you.”
My heart pounds and my throat tightens.
“You won’t open your eyes.”
It takes great effort not to step backward as Marcus moves forward again, only a single step.
“Keep them closed,” Marcus commands and I can only nod, fear stealing my voice.
He takes another step forward, blue jeans coming into view and my eyes close. With my hands fisted, I grip my cotton tank top to keep from moving.
“Stay still and keep them closed.” This time when he speaks, his voice is clearer and his steps easy to place. There’s a clink on the counter; I imagine he’s set the flash drive down there but then he takes another step forward.
“I give you something, and I’d like something, Delilah.” His soft voice is comforting, a soothing balm although it barely penetrates the nerves.
I can only nod.
Another step, and then another. I count them in my head until I can feel the heat of his body and the presence of his shadow over me, blocking the light, wrapping me in darkness.
“I’m going to cover your eyes with my hand,” he tells me and then adds, “And then I’m going to kiss you.”
My fists tighten and my lips part just slightly, maybe to object, I don’t know but it all happens too fast.
My feet move backward, his steps just as fast as mine, until my back hits the fridge. His hand presses against my eyes and his other at my hip, pinning me there as his lips meet mine.
Soft, yet demanding. It’s all too hot and overwhelming. His body pressed against me sends a bolt of longing through me as he molds his lips to mine and groans deep and low in his chest. The vibrations only add to the flick of desire that comes with the flames of danger.
With his hand still firmly over my eyes, my back against the unforgivingly hard appliance and Marcus’s grip digging into my hip, I stand there breathless, nearly shaking.
His teeth rake down the side of my neck and a gasp escapes me. True want and need roll through my body.
Shocked and breathless, attempting to cope with my own reaction, I stand there helpless just as I am, listening to him leave with haste and without a single word. I can still feel every inch of him: his heat, his demanding touch, and the all-consuming kiss.
It was only a kiss. If I tell myself that enough, one day I may believe it.
Delilah
I wasn’t in my right mind. I haven’t been. The haze of whatever came over me, the sleeplessness and the reckless, wild thoughts, all vanish once my skin chills and the reality slams into me like a car without brakes.
I wasn’t in my right mind. I couldn’t have been.
It’s all I can think as my hands shake at my sides. I’ve been staring at the cup of coffee on the counter as if it’s the coffee’s fault. Maybe it was drugged or poisoned. Because there’s no way in hell that I just kissed a serial killer and felt anything other than disgust.
My mind is playing tricks on me.
The thought has my trembling fingers barely brushing along my bottom lip, where the kiss still sears my skin.
The creak of the front door opening forces a silent gasp from me as my wide eyes stare at the kitchen threshold. My body’s so stiff, I can’t do a damn thing but stare with bated breath. I only exhale when I hear my name called out by a familiar voice.
“Delilah.” Cody says my name and as it echoes, I grip my right hand with my left to keep it from shaking as much as it is. Eyes closed and head down, I tell myself over and over: It’s just Cody. Cody’s here.
Oh thank God.
“Here,” I say. My own voice contains tremors and I clear my throat. “I’m in here,” I try to speak loud enough for him to hear me, but my voice falls, and my gaze turns toward the back of the house, in the direction Marcus left. I heard the door close. He’s gone. I know he’s gone. But how the fuck did he get in?
With confusion swirling in my mind, the tension and the disbelief still at war inside of me, I don’t know what to do or say. The front door closes with a resounding click and heavy footsteps come fast toward me, getting louder until I can see Cody’s foreboding figure in my periphery, the shadow of a man who I’ve desperately missed. His scent wraps around me in a comforting way, but it can’t penetrate the strong feeling that engulfs every thought and emotion that rampage inside of me, wanting to scream, to do something!
Marcus was here. He kissed me. A serial killer was just here and I let him walk away.
“Gun, gun,” I sputter out the word and keep staring down the long hall. “Marcus was here,” I say although I don’t know how I get the words out. “He was just here.” With my trembling hand I reach out to Cody, but it’s useless. It’s his strong back that greets me, pinning me against the counter. The marble digs into my lower back as I try to breathe, to get a grip on the here and now.
The sight of Marcus shrouded in darkness in the corner, my name on his lips…
“He’s gone.” I push out the words. “I heard the door shut and he said he was leaving. He’s gone but he was just here.”
“Which way did he go?” Cody questions with his back still facing me.
“He’s gone,” is all I can say and again I reach out, my fingernails digging into Cody’s strong frame and my cheek slowly resting against the black leather of his jacket. I take in his warmth, his broad shoulders, his height and I try to cling to all of it. I try to reach normalcy again. The mindset I had before Marcus broke in and shattered my sanity.
Cody tries to move, to do something, presumably sweep the place, but I don’t care what. I need him here. I need him close to me. “Stay. Please, please.” I have to swallow the harsh ball that lingers at the back of my tongue. “Please don’t move.” My plea is a whisper and I feel myself losing it. He can’t move. I just… I just need a moment.
“What did he do to you?” The question holds an air of its own darkness, a threat of what Cody would do to him. Cody turns ever so slightly to face me but still his eyes keep hold of the back hallway.
“Nothing,” I lie in a quickly hissed answer. Why did I lie? Why hide the truth? Shame runs down my spine with a chill that rolls down my body and I find myself pulling away. My arms cross over my chest as I slip backward.
“What did he say to you?”
“Nothing,” I repeat, feeling the spiked ball grow in an attempt to suffocate me. “Wait, no, no, he left information. He left it.” My own story confuses me and I can imagine what it does to Cody. He doesn’t answer for a moment, a long moment and I finally come back down from wherever I was, grounding myself and getting ahold of what happened. My eyes open slowly and I rest my head on Cody’s chest. My lashes brush against the jacket while I’m staring at nothing, but seeing everything.
“Did you see him?”
Shaking my head against Cody’s chest doesn’t give him a quick enough answer. He turns fully, granting me his full attention as his arms wrap around my waist.
He kisses my hair and his body heat lingers, warming me slowly. Yes, this is what I need.
“Did you see him?” he repeats his question and I finally pull back, crossing my arms in front of me, the ghost of this reality still very much present.
“No,” I say and shake my head again. “But I know it was him. It sounded like him and he knew things.”
“What kind of things?” Cody’s tone shifts. It’s no longer comforting and it seems his interrogation is starting.
With his gaze narrowed and on me, I remember what happened. “He said he knew who left the note. A hired man from Brass. And he left the proof. He also said one of Taylor’s men is in Bras
s’s pocket.”
“Shit,” Cody sneers the curse, apparently believing Marcus instantly. “Taylor’s crew is gone,” he says and nods at his own decision, shifting his weight as his hand rubs the back of his neck. It’s his tell when he knows shit has gone south and we have to pivot tactics. He truly does believe Marcus. With his eyes pinned on me, he repeats, “Taylor’s crew is gone and I’ll hire a new one. I know the firm. Consider it done.”
It’s hard to swallow, seeing the devotion and commitment Cody so obviously has to keeping me safe. My heart refuses to stay where it’s supposed to, beating wildly. I don’t have long before the moment is over, Cody hell-bent on taking control and quite honestly, I easily give it to him. With a nod, Cody seems to right himself, the man I know from work shifting back to the man I know from the bar and my bed.
“He left information?”
The single question stirs between us and I nod in the direction I heard the clink. Sure enough, a small metal USB flash drive lays there on the counter. “He said it would all be on it.”
“Are you okay? All he did was come in here and deliver information?”
“That’s all he did,” I say then swallow harshly at the lie, doubling down on it and then I look into Cody’s eyes, the shades of blue staring back at me with regret, remorse, but something more than that, something deeper. “He didn’t hurt me. But it scared the shit out of me, Cody. I didn’t have my gun and I thought I was safe here.”
I ask the obvious question when silence sets in. “How did he get in here?”
Cody’s gaze moves to the back hall once again and his jaw sets firmly in place. “Do you know how he got in? Window or door?”
“I don’t know.” I repeat myself as he stares down at me, “I don’t know.” In the back of my mind I think it shouldn’t matter, the security locks were engaged. The alarm should have gone off either way. Unless he knew the code.