Night Passenger

by David Stanley

  She’d been here often enough that a path had been worn into the ground. In the forest, that path had been wide enough for them to run side by side. It was relatively dark in there and the ground was dry. Nothing much grew between the trees, so the path had widened out over time. The clearing was a different story, the path was narrow and only wide enough for them to travel single file. It didn’t seem right to walk on the grass next to this path so he walked behind her. He was a gentleman, he always let her go first.

  “Stop looking at my ass,” she said.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Yes you were.”

  “I’m not looking, I’m staring.”

  Lauren glanced over her shoulder.

  “Oh,” she said. “My mistake.”

  When they reached the tree he took off the backpack he was wearing and passed her a bottle of water. She took a long pull from the bottle, her head tilted way back. Her throat pumped up and down as she swallowed. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He turned away from her and looked out to sea.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? I always meant to come when the sun was setting, but the trees make the journey too dark and Jimmy thinks lions come out at night.”

  Thorne turned back toward her. “Lions?”

  “Mountain lions…cougars.”

  “You ever see any?”

  “No,” she said, passing the water. “But I’ve seen their poop.”

  He wasn’t thirsty but drank anyway. Maybe some of her spit was in there, he thought. When he finished, Lauren was stretching her legs. Her right foot up against the tree trunk and she was thrusting forward with the other leg. She was warming up, preparing for the second half of their run. He returned the empty bottle to the backpack and set it carefully next to the tree. Ashcroft’s gun was in there, wrapped in a piece of fabric. He hadn’t put it there and it didn’t give him much comfort. Lauren swapped feet and began thrusting again. He needed to get this done, but he didn’t know how to launch into it. She stopped stretching and made a circular movement with her hips, first clockwise, then anti-clockwise.

  She glanced at him, then at the backpack on the ground.

  “You not getting ready?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She smiled. “Haven’t we been talking?”

  “I wanted to tell you first, alone.”

  Her smile faded. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “It’s been three weeks. I have to go.”

  She sagged before his eyes.

  “But those lunatics are still out there. You said it yourself, they’ll keep coming until they get what they want. Who will protect me if not you?”

  “You need professional security, Lauren. At least five or six guys. James can easily afford it. I’m just a second-rate actor who was in the right place. We got lucky before, I surprised them. Next time they’d be ready for me, they’d take me out with the first shot.”

  The haunted look returned to her face. It made him feel bad, but he knew that as long as he was here, she’d never be able to move on from the attack. Part of the reason she felt safe with him was because he reminded her of the moment they first met. He would always terrify her as much as he reassured her. He was part of her problem, whether she knew it or not.

  “Please, Chris. Just one more week. After that, we’ll be in D.C. and everything will return to the way it was. I don’t trust anyone else.”

  “You know this isn’t about what I want. I need to go back and deal with the fire investigation. I can’t hide up here pretending it didn’t happen. When they finally release Kate’s body…” He stopped and hung his head. The rage was there again. It was unbearable, as if a nuclear bomb was exploding in his chest and he had to contain its blast. In the days since Kate had died, he’d pictured his hands around Blake’s neck many, many times. He was going to kill Blake, he had no doubt about that. He would finish what he started in that hotel bar and nothing would stop him. Lauren put her hand on his arm and squeezed. She was right in front of him now, their running shoes were touching. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I have to arrange Kate’s funeral, her mother shouldn’t have to do that. She’s dead and it’s my fault.”

  There were tears on Lauren’s face.

  “It’s my fault too, isn’t it? They did it because you saved me.”

  “That’s not your fault.”

  She was quiet for a moment, before she spoke again.

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She gasped like he’d punched her in the stomach.

  “You can’t, not tomorrow.” Her eyes ranged about desperately. “That’s before Jimmy’s birthday! Say you’ll stay for that, you’re practically the guest of honor.”

  Thorne had expected this, even allowed for it. She needed time to prepare herself for his absence, hell, maybe they both did. The party was in two days’ time, he could give her that. As long as the painting was in play, the Ashcrofts would remain a target. It dawned on him that Blake knew about the birthday party, it was the reason the painting was out the gallery in the first place. Whatever was going to happen, would happen in the next two days. After the party, Blake wouldn’t know for sure they still had the painting. Time was running out for him, and that wasn’t going to be a good thing for everyone else.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll stay for the party but that’s it, okay?”

  Lauren wiped tears away with the back of her hand and nodded.

  There was a subtext that had nothing to do with Blake.

  Whatever had been building between them, neither of them wanted it to end. He’d assumed his feelings for her had started the night he caught her in the swimming pool; or maybe even as early as the hospital room, but now he knew different. They’d started the moment he first saw her picture online. Something had awakened inside him, something primal, and it was this spark that had made him betray Blake and everything that followed. But it was almost over now. Soon, he’d be leaving and no matter what they might say as he left, he knew they would never see each other again. It would be like death.

  Her eyes were closed, but tears still ran down her cheeks.

  She was falling apart. He had to say something and make it right with her, but what could he say that wouldn’t make everything worse? He didn’t like that he was hurting her, but it felt strangely good to know she’d miss him. There was nothing left for him in L.A., not even a home. If there was a way to stay here and be with Lauren, he would. But it wasn’t going to happen, it couldn’t happen. A dream can only exist as long as you are asleep; sooner or later, you have to wake up. It’s the waking up that makes a dream special.

  Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hands on her hips. They were perfect, like part of a sports car. The front of her hip bones rose up in smooth curves then sank below the surface as he slid his hands up to the taut, bare skin of her waist. He’d wanted to touch her like this every time he’d seen her in her work-out top. Her bare, golden skin, the muscle tone…it drove him crazy. After a moment, she exhaled a long, jagged breath. He looked up and met her gaze. Her eyes were cooked, gone. She pushed forward so their bodies were pressed together.

  Something close to a shiver went down his spine, something amazing.

  She looked into his eyes. A rose tint had spread across her cheeks and her lips were swollen and parted. Lauren’s eyes dipped to stare at his mouth. It was all the permission he needed. He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and clung on as though she feared the kiss would end too soon. Behind her, his hands slid down her back, down the ridges of muscle to her ass. She took this as an invitation to jump on him and wrap her legs around his waist. He wasn’t expecting it, and they fell onto the soft grass and rolled over several times. When they stopped, she was on top of him and they were laughing.

  “Am I really that heavy?” she asked.

  “Give me a break, I was shot in the gut.”

  “Ooo,” she said, in a high voice, “I was
shot in the gut!”

  “Is that how I sound?”

  Lauren gazed into his eyes, amused. Teasing him, daring him. There was still the silvery trace of tears on her cheeks, but her face was transformed. She looked alive, electric. When they’d fallen, her hair had gotten all messed up and the sun lit it up, made it look like feathers. He wanted to run his hands through it, feel that blonde hair sliding between his fingers. It seemed to capture the sunlight itself. He could fix it for her, so it was all back in place. Perhaps tuck some behind her ear, the way she liked it. But Thorne did nothing. He knew he wouldn’t fix her hair. Not now, not with her lying on top of him. If he touched her again in even the slightest way, her hair stood to get messed up a lot more than it was already. They’d gone too far. She was married and he considered her husband a friend. That should mean something, it shouldn’t just be empty words.

  She sat upright and drew her knees up on either side of his rib cage. Her legs were doubled over and he could clearly see the swell of her thigh muscles beneath her hands. Lauren looked casually around the clearing, then back down at him. The message was clear. We are alone. She smiled at him and he found himself smiling back.

  Her ass was against his groin, the warmth and pressure of it pinned him to the ground. After a moment, she adjusted her position on top of him to give him more space, then lowered herself back down. Thorne was losing control and he knew it. They were on a roller-coaster that was about to nose over the top of the track and race down the other side. They should stop before they did something unforgivable, something they couldn’t take back. The more he thought about leaving and never seeing her again, the clearer it became for him.

  He was in love with her.

  Thorne let out a deep breath; a mixture of sadness and relief.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No, it’s just…I realized something is all.”

  Lauren raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “You know,” he said, “some things are better left unsaid.”

  “I disagree. I’ve been waiting to hear you to say it for weeks.”

  “I think we’re talking about different things.”

  She rolled onto the ground next to him and stared at the sky.

  “We’re definitely talking about the same thing, Thorne.”

  “And…you?”

  “Are you serious? You want me to say it after you refused?”

  “I mean do you feel the same way, or am I a sad joke?”

  She propped herself up on her elbow and looked into his eyes.

  “I feel you in my ovaries, Chris. How’s that?”

  “That’s…that’s just great.”

  “I’m inside you.”

  “Yeah. I guess you are,” he said.

  “No, really. I donated blood at the hospital.”

  “That’s a weird thing to know, Lauren, but thank you.”

  Thorne got to his feet and arched his back. He was expecting a flash of pain from his injuries, but there was nothing. Not even the usual crunching pops of his spine lining up, which had become wearily familiar over the last couple of years. He felt good. When he looked down at Lauren he noticed she was staring at the front of his workout pants. Yeah, he felt really good. After a beat, she glanced up and smiled sheepishly. She raised her hand and he reached down and pulled her upright. It brought her into the previous kissing position and he immediately stepped backward to give her space. There was a flicker of disappointment on her face but she hid it as quickly as it appeared. He wasn’t sure he’d be strong enough a second time around to deny what they both seemed to want.

  “So,” she said, her tone businesslike. “What now?”

  “This doesn’t change anything, Lauren.”

  “Are you kidding me? This changes everything.”

  “I still have to leave.”

  “I know.”

  He frowned. “Then what’s different?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I’m coming with you.”

  “But James, all this…”

  Thorne spread his arms to indicate everything around them.

  Lauren sighed. “Jimmy will barely notice I’m gone. I’m an accessory to him, a clutch purse and nothing more. When he’s in the Senate I hardly see him. I never wanted to move to D.C. and become a politician’s wife. Going to fundraisers and charity functions, it’s not me. Then there’s the age thing. When we go to a restaurant people look at me like I’m a whore, I can see it on their faces. I didn’t marry him for his money, but that’s what people think. He was funny, he treated me right, that’s all it was. Sure money doesn’t hurt, but I’m tired of the judgement in people’s eyes. Why should I have to explain myself to anyone? I wasn’t cut out for this; I’m a valley girl and that will never change.”

  “Lauren, I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “He doesn’t love me, Chris. But you do.”

  “Jesus!’ he said, then laughed. This was the worst break-up ever.

  She stepped closer, then closer again. Her face filled his view, it was quite beautiful. At that moment, nothing else existed but her face and those lips. He debated the merits of kissing her again. He knew he’d made a mistake kissing her before, but he couldn’t honestly say he regretted it. Mistakes were like that; you didn’t always regret them.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  He’d wanted to believe he wasn’t one of those guys. Guys that took what wasn’t theirs to take. But the whole time he’d known it was a lie. He was one of those guys. Kate Bloom hadn’t been single when they first slept together, she’d been dating a producer on the show. He hadn’t let that stop him then, and it had turned out to be the best decision of his life.

  “Hey,” she said again, a little more forcefully.

  It hadn’t worked out so well for the other guy. He left the show shortly after, but not before he’d taken some time to practice his golf swing on Thorne’s car. He suspected the producer had since then been working against him within the studio to get the show canceled. Perhaps, ultimately succeeding.

  “Goddammit, Thorne! Say something.”

  His eyes came into focus.

  “We should head back to the house.”

  She sighed. “Not about the house, wing nut. About us.”

  “I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m not that guy anymore.”

  Her face changed in a split second.

  “You think I belong to him, is that it?”

  “You’re married, that still means something.”

  “I’m talking about leaving him, Chris. Getting a divorce.”

  He looked at the ground and nodded. It had been different with Kate, she hadn’t been married and had only been dating for a couple of months. He’d convinced himself that the producer would quickly get over his set-back and find someone else. Producers never seemed to struggle getting beautiful dates. Lauren was married, had been for close to ten years and had a husband that was very much in love with her. If Thorne went along with her plan, Ashcroft would be destroyed. His run for president, his standing within the party, the community. Everything would be wiped out. A man that had let him stay in his home, and become his friend. Kate would be disgusted with him for even thinking about it.

  Thorne looked back up, his jaw set.

  “We should head back to the house.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Thorne drove fast, the car’s cabin filling with the dull roar of the Maserati at high revs. It was a truly beautiful sound. He was becoming intimately familiar with the roads in the county, of the curves, and the speed he could take them. A speed far higher than the posted limit. He had no destination but the next turn, the next press of the gas pedal. You drive fast enough, it’s all you can think about. He drove up the 17 to Los Gatos, down the 9 toward Santa Cruz, then crossing over to rejoin Glen Canyon Road. He noticed little, instead calculating the optimum break points, maximum speed through upcoming curves, and the best way to pass other traffic. He slowed as he approached Ashcroft’s mansion once a
gain. Just short of the turn, he pulled the car over and parked. A second or two passed, then it hit him in the gut.

  Kate’s dead.

  It had been right there all along, bubbling under the surface. His conversation with Lauren had brought it all back. The guilt, the rage. He hadn’t been there for Kate, he’d been here, falling in love with another man’s wife. Thorne opened the door and got out, holding the side of the car for balance. Waves of nausea passed over him, but there was nothing inside to bring up. The OxyContin had seen to that. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. The air was fresh and pure. The trees around him had a sharp scent like a freshly squeezed lime.

  No matter how fast he drove, or where he went, the truth would be just the same. Kate was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. He heard a horn blast, followed by the suction of a vehicle whipping past him. There’d be time to mourn her later, for now he had other things to deal with that required his full concentration.

  He opened his eyes and looked around.

  He’d stopped where Blake had parked his van the day he’d seen it from the forest path. He walked around the front of the Maserati and bent down to study the verge. The grass here was all but gone, the earth turned to mud by the tracks of tires coming and going. Some tracks overlapped, others cut across from the side. He had no idea about tread type, but the tire widths were consistent with coming from a single vehicle over a period of time. He stood facing the forest. Lauren’s running path weaved around trees, the earth worn down over time. There was no artificial surface or straight lines to catch the eye and it took him a long time to see it. He moved closer to see if it became more visible. It did not, but the sun was low overhead and at a different time of day that situation could change.