by L. A. Boruff
Both Michael and I lost our parents before we met each other; mine in a car crash, his to cancer and a heart attack. There was no family to help him and our friends wouldn’t have.
The investigators found no links on his computers or phone. They combed the house for forensic evidence. Nothing came up. There was no evidence of foul play, and the only DNA they found was ours.
With no clues, our only option was a reward hotline. I cashed out our meager retirement plan to put up the ten-thousand dollar reward, but each tip turned out to be someone angling to get the money. After a year, they canceled the reward and told me they assumed his actions were intentional. They turned my family, my heart, my reason for living, into a cold case. They said they were forced to assume Michael had indeed taken the children.
I closed the door on the whiskey and trudged upstairs to change into workout clothes. My solace was my gym. The dapper Anthony might return and give me answers, but it was more likely that I’d never see him again. Might as well continue my monotonous life. I changed and bolted out of the house before I changed my mind and guzzled the whiskey instead.
With my family gone, I’d taken a three month leave of absence from my management position at a local coffee shop. The position was ideal because I’d always liked to work with the public, plus the shop was close to home and offered decent pay and hours.
When I couldn’t face another day of sitting beside my phone, begging it to ring, I returned to work. But still, I’d go home at night and lie awake, staring at my phone. Sleep would elude me for days at a time, which would cause me to get sick and take more time off work. Thankfully, the owners were always patient with me.
Once I began my self-defense training, I learned pushing my body to the brink of exhaustion was the only way I could manage to rest. I’d sleep all night with just an occasional nightmare.
I’d worked my way through every available self-defense class, traveling farther and farther away from home to find a challenge. A former Marine started to do private training at a gym near me. He was willing to continue my training beyond the generic classes I’d already taken. He encouraged me to explore martial arts and spend more time building up my strength and endurance. The exertion tired my body and my mind; I lost weight, settling into a size twelve again, some days even a ten.
Elias, my trainer turned friend, had said my body was likely meant to be curvy, since I’d done intense workouts for four years and stopped losing weight. I was happy with my body and hoped that I’d be able to show it to Michael one day. He loved me no matter my appearance, but he’d be happy for my health.
Lacing up my running shoes, I put earbuds in to stream some of Michael’s favorite music and jogged the mile to my twenty-four hour gym.
Heading straight for the punching bag in the corner, I jogged in place to keep my heart rate up as I wrapped my hands. The bag swung to and fro as I punched and kicked out my anger and frustration. My body moved to the rhythm of the heavy guitar riffs and drum beats of Black Sabbath.
I pulled my fist back to hit the bag again and found my right bicep locked in a strong grip. I turned and lashed out at whoever was behind me. Elias jumped out of the range of my fists and emotional turmoil. My shoulders sagged once I knew I was safe, that it was just Eli, and my rage and pent up ire left me at once, exhaustion taking its place.
“What are you doing here so late?” He pulled out my earbuds. “Do you need to spar and wear yourself out?”
“Not tonight.” I yawned. “I’m tired. It’s been a long and emotional day.” I turned to the small refrigerator in the corner to grab another bottle of water. This time, the thought of replacing water with whiskey didn't tempt me.
“Riley, what happened? I knew today would be hard for you, but you normally hole up in that shrine of a home for the day. Did something change?” He touched my arm and peered down into my eyes.
I debated what to tell him, if anything. He’d become a close friend and confidante. I couldn’t stand to speak to any of the friends Michael and I had shared before his disappearance. They had eyes full of pity. I didn’t want their pity, or their sorrys, or their wishes they could help. I simply wanted my family. Elias didn’t give me pity—he gave me defense. He gave me the confidence that I’d be able to keep myself safe in a world that would rip my children from me. He pushed me to work harder and train longer, and I owed him a large part of my sanity, such as it was.
“Honestly, I think you’d have me committed if I told you how my day went.” I laughed humorlessly as I walked over to the weight bench and sat down. Crazy or not, I knew I needed to run my day by someone, and I trusted him more than I trusted anyone alive.
“Sit down, E. It's a strange story.” I told him the details of my day. I even included how easy it was for Anthony to disarm me. His face displayed shock throughout the entirety of my story, and when I finished with, “and then I woke up,” his jaw dropped.
“Riley, doll, you can't go back to that house.” I tried to interrupt, but he put his hand on my mouth. “No arguments. He neutralized you in seconds, leaving you utterly defenseless. And then you blacked out—most likely due to emotional stress—but we need to have you checked out. And then you’re staying with me. I won’t let you argue this.”
I sighed and studied his face. Elias was another exceptionally attractive man, but for years, he was purely my friend. Any other possibility had never entered my mind. After the surge of hormones I experienced today while dealing with Anthony, I found myself considering Elias in a completely different light. I imagined myself allowing a modicum of attraction into my life. A smidgen of desire.
He kept his blond hair cut close, still a Marine at heart, even though he’d been honorably discharged before I’d met him. Warm eyes, the color of milk chocolate, were framed by thick lashes any woman would kill for. He often joked that his eyes were shit brown, but his self-deprecating humor was lost on me. His eye color was stunning.
Raised in the southern U.S., his family was from Greece. I didn’t believe him until I searched for blond Greek men online. Apparently, there was an abundance of blond hair in Greece. Who knew?
His speech was void of accent, at least to my ears so used to hearing a Tennessee twang. Until he told me he was born and raised in Knoxville, I would’ve never guessed he was Southern.
“All right.” I sighed. “Thank you for believing my story and for once again being what I need.” I leaned against his thick arm and put my head on his shoulder. “Take me to the ER and waste most of our night. Let them pronounce me in perfect health. Then will you at least take me home to pack a bag and grab some of my guns?”
“Riley, I’ve got plenty of guns. You know that.” He chuckled and gave my hand a squeeze.
I rolled my eyes and got to my feet, “Yes, but they’re not my guns.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders. “Okay, let’s go get you checked out.”
We rode to the local university hospital in his massive Ford truck. There was something about men and trucks in the South, and Elias wasn't immune to the pull of a super-duty. I didn’t mind his truck obsession because it was a smooth ride. By the time we reached the emergency room door, I was lulled to the brink of sleep.
“Eli, I want to sleep. Take me home,” I groused as he opened my passenger door.
“Not a chance.”
I glared at him until he reached across and unbuckled my seat belt. His chest brushed against mine, and I sucked in my stomach as I tried to stamp out the spark of arousal.
Don’t stress it. It's been an insane day and your hormones have been all over the place. It was an instinctual reaction. It doesn’t mean you’re disloyal to Michael.
Elias stared at me with one eyebrow cocked as I gave myself a mental pep talk. “Can we go in now?”
I gave him an exaggerated huff. “Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter 2
Our emergency room visit passed without much drama, all things considered. They drew my blood and took my
vitals. The longest wait was after the CAT scan—the results took an hour. It was one of those hours that you think it's been at least a half hour, but only three minutes have passed. The enormity of my day overwhelmed me, and I spent the hour dozing as tears leaked from my eyes. Elias sat beside my bed with one hand on my ankle. The simple touch of another human was comforting, but I battled a guilt monster for wanting it.
The doctor pronounced me stressed and sent us home. “I told you so.” Chuckling, I climbed into the truck.
Elias rolled his eyes and pulled out of the parking lot, heading toward my house to get my overnight bag and guns. “About your visitor earlier—do you think there’s any chance he was telling the truth?”
I watched the passing landscape as we sped home, battling with myself, trying to decide if Anthony could have any relevant information. “I don’t know. I’m going to call the local FBI office in the morning and see if they’ve ever heard of him or his alias. Although, I highly doubt they’ll have any idea who he really is.” He was probably some freak that heard about my case on some documentary. It had been featured on a few websites and occasionally brought out the crazies.
Elias peeked at me from the corner of his eye. “In the morning.” Eli’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
His words rubbed me the wrong way. Surely the FBI would at least want to know it happened. “I suppose you’re right, but what else can I do? I feel even more lost than I did two days ago.” I rubbed my eyes. “How am I going to figure out who this guy is and what his true motives are?”
The brakes on the fancy truck squeaked as we pulled into my driveway and parked. He spent some time staring out the driver’s window, contemplating my situation while I took the opportunity to study his profile. My newfound interest in him flitted around my stomach, both exciting and confusing me. Was it okay to be attracted to someone when on the verge of possibly finding my long lost husband? What kind of person did that make me?
A horrible person, Riley. You are a horrible, horrible person. You’re going to hell wearing gasoline-soaked panties. Apparently, my libido disagreed with that assessment because I felt a tingle of potent desire. My head smacked against the headrest and I groaned in frustration.
Elias laughed and grabbed my knee, not helping my tingles in the slightest. "Riley, come on. Let's get your bag, and I'll settle you in the guest room at my place. You'll be safe, and you can rest."
Shoving the truck door open, the dull throb of a headache began again. It was becoming an annoyance. "Eli, my head is starting to hurt again. Maybe there's some allergen in the air around this place that’s causing me to have a headache as a reaction." I sniffed the air, my nose pointed up as I turned in a circle. "Smell anything? I don't."
Eli stopped on the porch and watched me twirl in a circle behind him. "Give me your keys, you goof. I'll check the place out before you come in."
He reached into his boot and withdrew a small pistol. "Here, stand inside the door, stay alert, and use this.” He handed me the gun gingerly, as if afraid I didn’t know what to do with it. “Just don't shoot me!" He slipped into the quiet house.
Unwilling to wait in the doorway, I crept in behind him. He was already deep inside, and I didn’t like not knowing where he was. "Eli!" I shout-whispered. He appeared at my elbow like a ninja.
He didn't bother whispering. "Riley. Sometimes you’re a badass, but you’re awful at sneaking." He clapped me on the shoulder before walking soundlessly up the dark staircase.
I waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs like a good little badass. He eventually bounded down the stairs, no longer trying to be quiet. "What the hell took so long, Eli? Did you make friends with my shower curtain or something?"
Elias scrutinized me.
I snapped my fingers in his face. "I'm going upstairs to get my stuff, Weirdo. Grab the guns out of the hiding spot behind the mirror, would you?” I waved vaguely toward the closet behind the front door. “There's a duffel in the coat closet.”
I paused on the stairs to make sure he knew where to find it. He should’ve, he helped me install the mirror case. It was cool—we carved out a hole in the wall behind a large mirror. There was a hidden latch attached to the side of the mirror frame. I pretended I was a spy every time I opened it. Michael would’ve loved it.
I grabbed a large bag out of my bathroom closet and shoved pajamas and workout clothes into it. The next two days, Sunday and Monday, were my normal off days. I made a mental checklist. Toothbrush, hairbrush, deodorant. Don't need makeup around Eli. I’ll not be acting on any urges. I won't even take a razor with me, so I'll be even less tempted to further complicate my already ridiculous life. Stubble and sex don’t mix.
Eli was waiting with my shoulder and bra holster, as well as a light jacket to wear over them. I was more confident when armed to the teeth. The ankle holster seemed like overkill, so I skipped it, and I was already wearing the one at my waist.
Another dull throb of pain slashed from temple to temple as I closed and locked the front door behind us. Elias touched my elbow. "Give me the bags. I'm still a Southern gentleman, even for the independent Riley Effler."
"You're lucky my head hurts, Elias. I don't have the energy to argue."
Elias stopped in his tracks. "Did it hurt when you were inside?"
"Oddly enough, no.” What in the world was going on with my crazy brain?
"Let’s get you out of here. I think you may be right about the allergen thing, since you were okay inside. Maybe it hurt the other day because Anthony walked through a certain grass or flower before he came inside. Who knows?"
Elias rushed me by putting a hand at the small of my back. It was somewhere between the realms of gentlemanly and chauvinistic, and it hit me like delicious lightning. Calm your tits. He’s not for you.
"I want you to stay at least until you have to return to work. Maybe it’ll rain and wash away whatever is aggravating you," Elias murmured as he opened the truck door for me.
"Thank you. I appreciate it more than you realize, but I want you to know that I'm only agreeing because you have absolutely nothing else in your life to entertain you." Elias threw his head back and laughed. "I'm serious! I know exactly what you'll do tomorrow if I'm gone. Two hours in the gym and the rest of the day playing some video game or another."
He smirked before walking around the truck and hopping in the driver’s side. "Well, we aren't lazing around tomorrow. I'm taking you to the mountains." I gave him wide eyes. I didn't know if I was up for all that.
"I'm scared. I'm tired. I’m feeling a fresh wave of missing Michael, and the boys…" I faded off, remembering my breakdown. "I actually said their names this morning."
"That's fantastic! How long has it been since you said their names out loud?" Elias grabbed my knee again, causing me to jump and shiver. We pulled out onto the road, headed for his house.
"I stopped around six months after they disappeared. I’d open my mouth, and their names just wouldn't come out." I leaned forward and put my head on my knees, a feat I wasn't able to do a couple of years before. The constant desire to work myself into exhaustion helped get rid of my gut, and I'd become much more flexible.
"I broke down after Anthony left today, and I talked to them. It was almost like they could hear me. I think I'm starting to think of them as angels." Tears started running down my cheeks again, absorbing into my jeans. "How many times in one day can I cry? I'm going to get dehydrated." I tried to joke to relieve the tension.
Eli moved his hand from my knee to the curve of my neck. He squeezed and kneaded my shoulders. His hands were so large he was able to rub both sides of my neck—in a truck traveling thirty miles an hour down the road—and make it feel like I was getting a professional massage.
I began to feel uncomfortable with the touching. Guilt ruined my ability to enjoy myself even a little bit. I sat up so Eli would remove his hand. "I want to sleep. That's all I can think about." We turned into his driveway.
"Whateve
r you want." The truck idled while Elias waited for his garage door to open. As soon as we stopped inside the garage, I jumped out with my bags. I needed space and lots of it.
"I'm going to make myself at home, E!" I called as I ran for the door to the kitchen. I'd been in his house countless times over the years. Eli had a home gym, and we’d used it until we’d found a twenty-four-hour gym. I was almost as comfortable in Elias's house as I was in my own.
I grabbed a wine glass and a bottle of white from the fridge and ran upstairs to the massive guest bathroom. I was supremely jealous of his house. Michael and I never made enough money to move out of the rental house. I soaked in the borderline opulence of Eli's house, and couldn't help but think that I’d happily live in a hovel if I could have my family with me.
The enormous tub filled with bubbly water while I filled my glass. Wine doesn't count. It's not like whiskey. I’ll have a glass or two to make me a little fuzzy so I sleep without nightmares. I could justify the alcohol if it meant no nightmares. The thought of waking Eli up with one of my screaming night terrors made me groan.
My aching, tired muscles relaxed as I sank into the too-hot water. Michael had always teased me about the temperature of my baths. I'd been known to scald my skin before he turned the water heater temperature down when we brought David home from the hospital. He’d been so careful with the kids. The house was baby proofed within a week of telling him the news of our first pregnancy.
I imagined that day—thanks to the need to do my daily ritual of dredging up memories of my family—but every time I imagined Michael's face, it was cut off and Anthony floated into my mind. His unusual eye color haunted me. I tried to mentally shake him off, only to have the feel of Elias's hand on my knee intrude on my cherished memory of Michael.
"Damn it to fucking hell!" I jerked up out of the bath and grabbed the wine bottle. I eyeballed the wine glass. "Fuck it." Setting the glass on the edge of the tub, I tipped the bottle up and greedily chugged. Make it go away. I wanted peace.
