by W Winters
That journal was my leverage for when Seth inevitably came for me. Filled with multiple entries all about Marcus, the boogeyman, the Grim Reaper. A faceless villain who made deals in back alleys, running the streets around these parts, battling for power along with the Cross brothers. Unlike Carter Cross and his brothers, no one knows who Marcus is. They’ve never seen his face, but his signature power plays and ruthless reputation are notorious.
I thought that if Seth came for me demanding the money I stole, I’d give him the copies. I thought maybe it would be of value to him because I knew he came to work with the Irish mob who ruled this part of the East Coast, a.k.a. the Cross brothers. And they’d give anything to uncover any details on their faceless nemesis, Marcus, and his secrets.
They were all in the worn journal. This woman Delilah, my patient, had seen him. Felt him. She loved Marcus. She had a single journal when she was first admitted. It described details of where they met and what he wanted with her. It was leverage. Several years have passed; my patient’s collection has grown as she’s come in and out of the Rockford Center, when her mental state is too harmful to be away from the help we give her. She has a journal for every year, five years now, and I never stopped photocopying them. I could give Seth information on Marcus, in hopes that he wouldn’t hold our past against me.
I kept waiting and waiting for Seth to come for me. Didn’t he know he’d have to be the one to make the first move? I wouldn’t even be able to look him in the eyes or say his name out loud.
Seth King.
Years came and went yet he never approached me. It wasn’t relief I felt, it was like a prolonged mourning. Maybe he wanted me to feel his presence, to know I couldn’t have him. I remember the first night that thought came to me, and how hard I sobbed against my pillow at the thought. I’d take my punishment; I deserved it.
Fate is a cruel sorceress, but this time I love her. Because last night, I saw him. I spoke to him. He called me Babygirl and even through the fear, I want him to say it again.
Seth
She still doesn’t know how badly she fucked me over.
I try to keep that in mind as I wait for Laura. Waiting for her is all I’ve done since she said good night two weeks ago. Each hour has felt like an eternity. She whispered it when she opened the back door of my car, sliding out with tears running down her cheeks. She never cried in the open; she hated the tears. “Useless” is what she used to mutter when she was on the verge of tears.
Back then I always held her while she let it all out. That night, fourteen days ago, I merely watched as she stayed as silent as she could, wiping the tears from her cheek. Maybe that’s why she whispered “good night”—she didn’t trust herself to speak too loud or else I’d realize she was crying.
I already knew though. She should know better than to think she can hide from me.
If she thinks I don’t know how much it hurts, she’s dead wrong.
The tick of the clock in Jase’s office doesn’t stop. It reminds me that I’m getting closer to seeing her again. She’s to meet me, to come prepared to pay for the damages. She doesn’t know though, just how much she fucked me over.
“Anything else on Walsh?” Jase questions his brother, Declan, as I sit in the corner chair, a dark leather wingback. I listen to the two of them go over the details Declan’s been able to gather on the crooked cop hell-bent on revenge against the man known as Marcus. Only half my attention is on them. Until Declan says something about pitting the two of them against one another.
For a moment, I’m torn from my obsessive thoughts of seeing Laura tonight. The thoughts have been coming and going throughout the day. In the dark of night, alone in my bed with nothing but the memories of her, not a damn thing could get through to me. Certainly not sleep.
“Seth, what do you think?” Jase asks me, rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. Watching him lean back against his chair, the tailored suit jacket draped behind him, I’m reminded that I have shit to do other than deal with the woman who broke what semblance of a heart I had.
“I think being between the two of them is a piss-poor place to be,” I say, speaking up so Declan can hear me from where he is on the other side of the expansive office. His head is down as he types on the keys of his sleek laptop. It’s state of the art and expensive as fuck with all the software loaded onto it. He’s constantly searching for more information on Cody Walsh, the cop and former FBI agent who came to this town wreaking havoc.
“It would be easier if Walsh wasn’t blackmailing us to help him find Marcus.”
“It’s not like we can give him Marcus anyway. He’ll learn that it’s not that easy,” I comment but the foresight of what will happen along the way, and more importantly, after, breeds a disdain for the scheming cop. Months of surveillance on Marcus’s men have given us nothing but a list of men who work for the man. Nothing about him in particular. We don’t have a damn thing to give Walsh.
“Then how does him blackmailing us play out?” Jase’s unspoken concerns are read easily with the worry in his expression. If we can’t help Officer Walsh find Marcus, he could turn in the evidence he has on Jase and me. Then we’re fucked.
“We need to get something on Walsh. We can’t trust that he doesn’t have backups of the tapes. We could bury ourselves helping him and in the end, he’d turn us in anyway.”
“I agree with Declan,” I say as I nod solemnly. My voice is even and calm. The threat of going away for murder is there... but all I can focus on is Laura, and making her sweet ass pay for leaving me.
“Even if Walsh does turn in the evidence, we have ways to get around a conviction,” Jase says and his menacing glare moves to the lit fireplace on the right side of the room. “As soon as we’re able, I want him dead.”
I used to feel chills at the thought of murder. They would climb up my spine, sending a freezing cold deeper into my blood as they crept their way up. Not anymore, though. It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt any remorse or apprehension at the depravity I engage in.
“It must be done,” I agree.
“When the time comes, we burn his house down, raid his office and get any evidence you can find.”
“His car too,” Declan adds. “He has PO Boxes in the upper east. Those need to be ransacked as well. All three of them.”
“What the hell is he doing with those?” A crease settles deep between my brow.
“Maybe that’s where he stores his evidence?” Jase questions, and a hopeful glint resurrects itself in his dark gaze. “Former FBI agents have their quirks and habits. We need to learn every single one of this prick’s.”
I only nod. There’s no telling why Walsh does what he does. He seems to work alone, but the more we learn, the more is amiss. The evidence in his possession could put us away for murder. I’m not willing to allow that. Not when I just got Laura back.
No fucking way is some crooked cop getting in the way of my plans. I wish I had my crew here. For the first time in years, I feel like I truly need them. Maybe it’s because Laura’s back. Or maybe it’s because the danger has a tighter grip around my throat. They’re on the other side of the country, though. I haven’t spoken to them in a long damn time.
I offer my suggestion and say, “We can put some men on the post office. See how often he goes to the PO Boxes, if ever.”
“Agreed,” Declan chimes in. “We need to watch him day and night. I can’t find shit on him from the last three years and before that he was an agent so I don’t trust it.”
The ticking of the clock sounds with the crackling of wood and hiss of the fire as the three of us consider our reality. We’re dealing with two pricks who have information on us, yet we’re lacking when it comes to knowledge about them.
“All of our resources are going toward watching the army of a ghost,” Jase says, referring to Marcus’s men, “and to a fucking cop who could bring us down.”
“We’ll take care of it,” I comment evenly and reassuringly
, joining Jase to stare at the fire. Instead of seeing a cocked trigger, or the match that would cause an explosion, I see blue eyes in the flames. Parted lips. I swear I can hear Laura’s moan.
“You all right, Seth?” The question doesn’t come from Jase or from Declan. The office door creaks open as Carter steps in, his footsteps heavy as he enters.
“Fine,” I answer Carter Cross, the oldest brother and rightful leader of this crew. His ruthlessness and reputation precede him.
He murmurs low and then takes in each of his brothers. “I think we should reconsider Marcus.”
“Fuck Marcus.” Jase’s voice is harsh as he speaks. Marcus is the one who gave the cop the leverage. The bastard set us up. Walsh isn’t the only one who wants to take Marcus down.
Carter merely smirks, the only hint of humor that’s graced this office for months. He’s taller than his brothers. Broader shoulders too with an air about him that’s deadly. Jase could charm anyone; he’s handsome and well spoken. Declan’s quiet and smiles easily enough. Carter’s harder, brutal. Even his jawline is harsh. Recently though, since he’s found Aria, a different side of him is showing.
“Any unspoken truce we had with Marcus is gone,” Jase continues, his anger getting the best of him. “He fucked with us on a personal level. He stole our supply, he captured—”
“All in the past. The enemy of our enemy is our friend.”
“Which one, brother?” Jase’s gaze narrows. His animosity for the two men shows without even the thinnest veil to hide behind. “You’d choose Marcus over Walsh? When Marcus is the one who set us up! He gave us over to Walsh when we did nothing to him. He’s a traitor. I won’t rethink a damn thing.”
“Your emotions are getting the best of you.” Carter’s lack of emotion, his logical thinking combined with unforgiving lethal force, is what made the Cross brothers what they are. If nothing else, I admire it.
My gaze moves slowly between the two brothers, as does Declan’s. I understand Jase’s anger and his fear.
“What would you have us do?” Jase questions. Their dark gazes meet, and neither softens. Carter’s hand falls in the pocket of his crisp black suit as he seems to debate an answer.
“Surveillance will take time. Do we have it?” he asks.
“Yes,” Declan speaks up, cracking the tension but not breaking it. In gray slacks and a white Henley, Declan’s attire makes him stand out from his brothers. He always does though. But it’s his quiet, watchful nature that allows him to blend in with crowds. He doesn’t have the same intensity about him that Jase and Carter do. At least not in public. I’ve seen him though. I’ve seen the real him and it’s nothing like the man on the other side of the office.
Carter nods, running his thumb over his freshly shaven chin, the stubble already starting to show. He’s a beast of a man, dressed up in a tailored suit.
“My only thought, and something I hope you would consider… if we get rid of Walsh, who will get rid of Marcus?” Carter questions and for a moment, Jase’s head tilts as he considers his brother.
I’m nodding my head in short, nearly undetectable movements when Carter looks at me. I’ve found companionship with Jase, and friendship with Declan. Carter though has never allowed a step toward anything other than a working relationship. He’s guarded, and until recently, I’d hardly spoken to him in the years I’ve worked for the Cross brothers. He’d be in the room, he’d speak. But not to me. Never to anyone other than his brothers. Guarded is a word that doesn’t do him justice.
The trust simply isn’t there. I respect that. I understand it more than he knows.
“You certain there’s nothing you’d like to tell me?” Carter questions. “To tell us?”
A prickle of unease travels along my skin. Hot and sickening, but I answer calmly and with a no-nonsense tone. “Not a damn thing. If there’s something you’d like to ask, I’ll do as I’ve always done. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Declan and Jase are quiet as Carter squares his shoulders and contemplates a moment. “Something’s going on with you,” Carter finally speaks.
My palms are clammy as I clench and unclench my fists. “If you’re doubting—”
“You are in this family. I don’t doubt your loyalty or your ability… yet.” Although Carter’s tone is harsh, there’s a softness I haven’t seen from him before. You are in this family.
I am in no family. I haven’t been for quite some time.
“Like I said, there’s something going on with you.” As Carter repeats the accusation, Jase leans back against his desk. The skin on his knuckles turns white as he grips the edge of it.
“Old ghosts,” Carter surmises. “For weeks now.”
Ever since I saw Laura with Bethany, Jase’s girlfriend. I only nod, swallowing thickly.
“If something’s going on—”
“It’s personal,” I reassure him and keep my tone even but without any room for discussion. “It won’t get in the way of anything.”
“If I’ve noticed the change, Seth… those ghosts are already in the way.”
Laura
I’m trying to remember everything Seth said two weeks ago, but all I can hear is Babygirl. All I can feel is the prick at the back of my eyes. He asked me how I thought it would end… that’s right. That aching feeling in my chest returns and I swallow, dry and harsh as I sit in my car. My seatbelt’s off and the constant pinging from the dash is driving me crazy until I pull the keys out of the ignition.
I begged for his forgiveness while all he did was stare at me through the rearview mirror. I tried to explain, but his gaze remained brutal and unforgiving. I put my hand on his shoulder once, and that was the only time he really looked at me. First my hand, and then into my eyes.
* * *
He wrote down an address, this address. In the note, he told me to come in two weeks—which has felt like forever. And he gave me a time… five minutes from now.
Don’t make me come for you.
* * *
I read the line noting how quickly my heart beats, then the pause and the sudden shortness of breath. A wave of overwhelming emotions crashed down around me. The thought of him coming for me will always make me feel conflicted. I want to run from him, but I also want him to capture me, to force me to stay. Because I’m selfish, just like my heart is when it ticks and skips like it’s running and it’s out of breath.
I stopped taking my medication for arrhythmia when I got settled here. My hand instinctively hovers over my chest as the thump, thump, thump goes off beat. With my eyes closed, I breathe in deep and tell it to calm down.
I haven’t needed a pill in years. Seth King fucks up my heart. No one can tell me otherwise. It’s all his fault.
Ping.
Jolting from the buzz on my lap, as I sit in the car outside of the address Seth gave me, I silently scold myself. Calm the fuck down.
The heat from the vents hits my face and I’m quick to flick the button off. It’s cold for an autumn night, colder than it’s been since March if I remember right, and the wind is unforgiving too.
With the blush of the sunset on the horizon, I’m close to a moment I knew would come one day. For better or for worse. I’m safe in my car… safe for now.
It took me twenty-five minutes to drive here. All in silence. That’s all it took. It felt like forever, but forever is over far too quickly now that I’m sitting here staring at the massive house. It’s all old light gray stone with dark blue roofing… the slabs all the way up there look like stone too. It’s hard to tell this late at night though. There are two stories with a wraparound porch. There isn’t a piece of furniture at all outside though. The old Victorian has been cared for. It’s obviously been meticulously maintained, which must take effort given that it’s out here, surrounded by miles and miles of woods.
* * *
Taking my gaze away from the gorgeous house, I read the text and then I have to read it again.
You want to go out soon?
My first thought is: what is Cami doing on the East Coast? After all, who else would be texting me?
A vise tightens around my dry throat. Cami’s dead. Fuck, my head is so messed up.
It’s been like this since I saw Seth days ago. Since he called me Babygirl. The past has a way of creeping in. All the things once forgotten come back. With the pain lingering in my chest, oh how I wish Cami were here. I wish it were her who sent that text.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had moments like I’ve been having, where I’ve forgotten about everything that happened when I left. I don’t hold the guilt or any of the fear. In those moments, my mind plays tricks on me to convince me Cami’s still alive, still happy. I’ve only left her on the other side of the country for school and work. It’s a nice thought for a moment, but then my eyes prick with hot tears and the memory of the night I left comes flooding back in a rush.
I’ll never forget that imagery. I’ll never forget how cold her skin was. Or the feel of her lashes against my fingers when I closed her eyes. I hold my fingers now, willing the sensations to go away.
My body’s heavy as I fall against the driver seat. Breathe in, breathe out. Just keep breathing.
Ping. Bethany texts again. She’s not Cami. She’ll never be Cami.
A new friend to replace me, Cami’s voice whispers in my head and my throat tightens as I read the text Bethany sent: I miss you. I really do.
I don’t even have time to think about what happened between Bethany and me. I haven’t seen her since she left my apartment, pissed off at me. I did what I had to do. It was a few days after I’d seen Seth. I did what I thought was right.
