by E. L. Todd
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I ran to the first-aid kit then pulled the gauze and alcohol out.
He took a seat at the table and extended his arm on the surface, still not bothered by the blood pooling on the table. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“I really hurt you.”
He spoke in a bored voice. “I was hoping you would.”
I wiped the blood away then rinsed it with alcohol. Then I rubbed iodine all across the wound before I pulled out the stitch kit and began to sew him up.
He watched me with the same look of indifference on his face. “Where did you learn this?”
“Dad taught me.”
His eyes followed my fingers. “You’re good at it.”
“Thanks.” I worked quickly because I didn’t want him to lose more blood than necessary. As far as I knew, there wasn’t a hospital around there, unless we wanted to take the train.
His free hand touched my elbow. “Sweetheart, I’m fine. Take your time.”
That didn’t stop my hands. They worked quickly until the cut was completely sewn. The wound stopped bleeding, and I wiped more iodine across the surface before I wrapped the gauze around it. “Are you okay? Feeling lightheaded?”
“I’m fine.” He pulled his arm away and bent it slightly, checking the tightness of the gauze.
“I’m sorry I cut you.”
“Don’t be. I want you to give me your best every time. How else will you learn?”
“Well, I don’t want to chop you up into pieces as I do it.”
“Believe me, it makes me happy when you best me. It gives me peace of mind. People will take one look at you and underestimate you. Then you’ll surprise them when you kick their ass.”
I sat beside him. “Should we take you to a hospital?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”
I wasn’t worried about the cut itself, but I was worried about a possible infection. “Do you have antibiotics here?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Good.” At least we had those if we needed them.
“I guess we’ll call it a day since you almost killed me.”
My jaw dropped.
He laughed. “I’m kidding.”
“No, you aren’t. I hurt you, didn’t I?”
He kept laughing. “You didn’t. I was just teasing you.”
“Well, it wasn’t very funny.”
“Maybe to you.”
He stood up and tossed the blades in the sink. “I’m hungry. I’m sure Judy has dinner ready.”
Wilder and I had been training for nearly a month since I agreed to work for his agency, but he still hadn’t told me the truth about my father. He kept putting it off because he was trying to protect me, but how long would he put it off for? Would he ever tell me? “Wilder, I want to know about my father.”
He turned around and faced me, disappointment in his eyes.
“You’ve stalled long enough. You can’t keep it from me forever.” I suspected my dad would rescue me after a week, maybe two. But I’d been missing for almost two months and he still hadn’t come for me. Maybe he was never going to. Maybe Wilder was right about everything.
“You don’t want to know, Gray.”
“Yes, I do.” I remained in the seat and refused to move.
He slowly walked back to the table but didn’t take a seat. “It’ll change everything—in a bad way.”
“Hiding away and pretending bad things don’t exist isn’t any way to live. You told me I was brave and fearless. If I can chase down gunman to save my father, I can handle this.”
He was deliberating behind his eyes, his thoughts hidden in the shadows. “This is different.”
“You can keep waiting but it’s not going to change my reaction. It’s not going to change the outcome. You accomplish nothing by waiting around.”
When his eyes met mine, there was agreement there.
“If I were anyone else, you would spit it out in a heartbeat. Why are you tiptoeing? If you think I’m good enough to be an agent, then you must think I can handle this.”
He put one hand on his hip. His eyes trailed away to another spot in the room. They formed a flat line as he concentrated on his thoughts. “But you aren’t anyone else. I care about you.”
His words washed over me without leaving any residue. I was desperate to know the truth of my family to the exclusion of everything else. The fear of the truth was worse than the truth itself.
He walked away and opened up a filing cabinet. He grabbed a few folders before he returned to the table, sitting across from me. He placed the yellow folders on the surface, keeping them closed. “You sure you want to do this?”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “Yes.”
He rubbed his palm against the side of his face. The dark hair made a scrubbing noise as it moved in the opposite direction of its growth. He lowered his hand then opened the folder. Then he spun it around so I could see everything. “In his line of work, he’s known as The Bone Doctor. He’s responsible for terrorist activity on an international level including the United States. He’s also involved with arms dealers. Basically, he follows the money. He’s good at what he does, and even now, I don’t know who his contacts are. I got lucky when I came across him in the first place.” He flipped the page. There was an image of my dad standing in front of a run-down building. The sand in the background implied he was in a desert. “This was taken shortly after the bombing at the U.S. Embassy in Austria. We have evidence that he was behind the attack. He was also responsible for the attack on the Russian president three years ago, when he was assassinated. He basically does what I do, takes jobs for the money. Except he kills innocent people.”
I stared at the image without blinking. Without a doubt, it was him. He carried an AK-47 by his side and a Bluetooth microphone was in his ear. He wore a brown leather jacket with a bandana around his neck. It was him, but at the same time, it looked nothing like him.
Wilder watched me with pity, and his fingers gripped the corner of the page like he was about to flip it. “Do you want me to continue?”
My voice came out hoarse, like I’d been in the desert for three days straight. “No.”
He released the paper and shut the folder. Concern was evident all over his face. It was in his eyes as well as the grimace of his lips. Heartbeats of silence passed. “I’m sorry.”
It was hard to believe my only parent was a monster. He killed people for a paycheck. It didn’t matter who it was, even the leader of an entire country. All those times he left on business trips, he was actually murdering people with bombs. And they must call him The Bone Doctor for a reason.
“I know this is a lot to take in… Take all the time you need.”
My eyes went to the second folder, which hadn’t been opened. “What’s that?”
He eyed it with hesitation. “Something for another time.”
I reached for it.
His hand got there first. “You’ve heard enough for one day. Let’s revisit this some other time.”
“What is it?” I kept my voice strong even though all I felt was weak.
He kept his hand in place. “It’s worse than everything you just heard.”
How could it possibly be worse? My father, the only family I had left, killed for a living. He was even responsible for smuggling weapons internationally. Those bombings probably had women and children casualties. There was nothing worse. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Hesitation was still in his eyes.
“Just rip the bandage off,” I snapped. “I can handle it.” I was handling the information surprisingly well. My heart was broken, and I felt stupid for not investigating him when I had the chance. I just assumed he was one of the good guys because he was my father. How could I have been so blind? I was calm and rational…and heartbroken.
Wilder took another
moment to make his final decision. He released a sigh before he opened the folder and showed it to me. The photograph was of a brown Volvo flipped on its side. The car was in flames.
I recognized it immediately.
The pity was still in his eyes, just as bright as the fire in the picture. “Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident.”
Now I couldn’t breathe.
Tremors started to rock through my body as my mind made connections. The implication of his words burned me alive. My entire life had been thrown upside down. Every beat of my heart was amplified in my chest. Blood pounded in my ears like a sounding drum.
The calm feeling that was once inside me evaporated like steam. I was quickly losing control of my faculties as a war raged inside me.
“Your dad was responsible for her death. His motive is unknown, but we suspect she figured out what he really was. In order to prevent her from going to the authorities, he killed her and made it look like an accident.” He watched my face, his eyes taking in every feature. “The police department wrote it off as a crash, but the classified report states there was a bomb underneath the car. The investigation ceased.”
I wasn’t as strong as I once claimed. My body began to shut down as the truth hit me like an unforgiving wind. My fingertips and lips felt numb. My heartbeat slowed down to a dangerous pace, like it wanted to stop beating altogether.
Wilder watched me, sadness swelling in his eyes. “Gray—”
I abruptly stood up, knocking the chair backwards. It hit the concrete with a loud thud but the sound fell on deaf ears. My eyes locked on the staircase, and I took off.
“Gray.” Wilder stood up to grab me.
I was already at the staircase, taking three stairs at a time. My body was pushed to the limit as I tried to run. There was nowhere for me to go, but my body yearned to move. I couldn’t run away from the past, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
I burst out the entrance of the compound then sprinted across the snow in the yard. The sun was about to set, and the second I took a breath, I felt the icy frost burn all the way down. My stomach tightened in anguish, but my body kept going. In the middle of my getaway, tears brewed in my eyes.
“Gray.” Wilder’s voice erupted from behind me. “Stop.”
I kept going until I made it to the road. The patches of snow were nearly impossible to pass. I ran as hard as I could, and my thighs strained from the exertion. There was no target or escape route in mind. I didn’t have a penny to my name. But I wanted to leave regardless.
***
Walking around the village in just pants and a t-shirt was stupid.
Damn stupid.
My muscles constantly contracted in a futile attempt to stay warm. I had the shakes and I couldn’t stop them. Even my breathing hitched at times because my lungs were growing tired of the dry, freezing air.
People passed me on the cobbled streets, and they watched me hesitantly like I didn’t belong there. I felt sleepy even though I was walking. My mom’s face flashed across my mind. I remembered her green eyes that were so similar to my own. She used to read to me before bedtime then kiss me goodnight. Even when I was in high school, she still did it. She didn’t make it to my high school graduation, and I knew she’d been looking forward to it.
My father killed her.
He took her life then did the same to so many others. What if he’d known I knew the truth? What if I told him I knew he was an agent? Would he have killed me too? Caused a gas leak then left the house while I was sleeping? Or would he have shot me right between the eyes then buried me in the backyard?
Everything I knew was a lie.
No wonder my father never came for me. He was probably relieved I was gone. I took his place to save his life, but he wouldn’t have done the same for me. Now I was in Switzerland, a country I never thought I would see with my own two eyes. My captor was actually my rescuer and I didn’t even realize it.
My arms were folded tightly across my body for warmth, and the tears had frozen on my face. It was too cold to cry. It was too cold to feel anything. I kept walking just so I had something to do. If I sat still for too long, I would think about that burning car—and how my mother was burned alive.
My teeth clattered painfully, and the remaining heat in my body disappeared. I was just a frozen icicle, and it was getting more difficult to keep my eyes open. I wanted to collapse in the snow and never rise again.
I wanted to die.
Something warm enveloped me, a heavy jacket lined with wool. I stood still in my tracks but didn’t have the strength to see who gave it to me. Was it a generous stranger? Or was it someone I knew?
I was suddenly scooped off my feet and into the strong arms of someone I recognized. My eyelashes were coated with ice, but I could see Wilder in my vision. He was blurry and difficult to make out, but I knew it was him. I could tell by his scent.
The warmth of the jacket brought some life back into my body, but I was still freezing. I felt like a Popsicle.
“Don’t fall asleep.” His deep voice landed on my ears.
My eyes strained to stay open.
Wilder leaned down then pressed his mouth to mine. I thought it was a kiss but it wasn’t. He breathed hot air into my lungs, warming my frozen body. He gave me a few breaths before he kept walking again. “Gray, stay with me.”
“I…” My hands lay against my chest, lifeless.
He walked quickly down the street and headed back to his chalet outside the village. Night had descended, and the only light came from the shops and restaurants. He glanced down at me every few seconds to make sure my eyes were open.
“Almost there.” He took long strides and carried me with ease. His body provided some protection from the cold. He arrived outside of his chalet then burst inside. “Judy, the bath is ready?”
“In your room,” she said quickly.
Wilder carried me upstairs and into his bedroom. Once we were in the bathroom, he pulled the jacket off me then placed me inside the bath water. It was so warm in comparison to the ice in my veins that it burned painfully. I winced and released a few cries I wasn’t proud of.
“It’ll feel better in a second.” Wilder crouched beside me and grasped one of my hands.
“It’s hot.”
“Your body will adjust.”
As my body thawed, it hurt. It felt like hot pokers pierced my skin all over the place. I thought being warm would feel good. Actually, it felt worse than standing out in the snow. I turned my face away from his because I didn’t want him to see me struggle, to see me weak.
He kept his hand in mine. “You’re almost there.”
After a few moments, the bitter sting passed. Feeling started to return to my fingers and toes, and the water actually felt nice. My clothes drifted in the water and acted as an anchor to the bottom.
“Better?”
I nodded.
He released my hand then ran his fingers through my hair. Both were wet, but it felt good anyway. His eyes were glued to my face, and he watched me as though he thought I might make a sudden move.
I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t in the mood to talk. My life was no longer at risk, but my heart was still broken. The hot water couldn’t rectify that. Nothing could.
Wilder picked up on my silence. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” He left my side then exited the bathroom. When he was gone, I was alone. Now that I wasn’t moving and my life wasn’t in danger, all I could feel was the pain. Against my will, tears started to emerge. I cried quietly and kept my voice down so Wilder wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t want him to listen to me cry. I tried not to show my emotions to anyone. It was hard for me to be open with anyone, at least at this level.
***
When the water ran cold, I got out and left my clothes in the bathtub as it drained. I spotted a robe on the back of the door so I pulled that on over my naked body. It was way too big and way too long, but it was better than
being naked.
I stepped out and saw Wilder lying on the bed. He was reading off his iPad. The second he realized I was there, his eyes moved to my face. He watched me stoically.
It was awkward, to say the least. I didn’t want to talk about what just happened. I didn’t want to talk about my mom, my dad, or the fact I almost killed myself running off into the snow.
I just wanted to be alone.
Without saying a word, I headed to the door and excused myself.
“Sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, completely the opposite of what it usually was when we trained together.
A slave to his words, I turned around.
He tossed the iPad aside then patted the bed beside him. “Come here.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and approached the bed.
He pulled the covers back then grabbed my wrist. Gently, he pulled me to him.
I moved with the motion. “Wilder, I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay.” His eyes said otherwise.
“No, really. I am. I just—”
“Shh.” He wore his usual sweatpants and t-shirt, and he pulled me flush against his body. Last time, his chest had been to my back. But now, we were face-to-face.
He stared into my eyes without blinking. He always searched my gaze like he would find something there. His arm was around my waist, anchoring me to him. The brown eyes I’d grown fond of were darker than they usually were. He stared at me with a hopeless expression, like all of this was his fault.
My arms were pulled against my chest, cutting me off from him. I didn’t want to be touched by anyone. The idea of human affection was nauseating. How could I ever feel something for another human being? My father killed my mother. He claimed he loved her, but the second she got in his way, he murdered her.
Did he ever love me? Or was everything just a charade for his cover? Did he use me to look normal? To blend into the crowd like he was just like everyone else?
Was anything real?
Wilder ran his fingers through my hair. “I wish it weren’t the truth.”
“I know.”
“I know it’s hard. I know you don’t feel like talking or doing anything. But I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
