by L. B. Dunbar
“You must be in violation of some parole,” Perkins’ voice broke into the stare down between Jordan and me. “I’m calling the cops,” he said and his voice cracked. The darkness of his shirt was growing, and I stared at him in concern. I couldn’t foresee how we were going to walk away from Jordan. I trembled again and Perkins’ arm around me tightened, whether to hold me close or hold him up, I couldn’t decide.
“Step away, before I shoot,” a voice in the darkness spoke and all our heads turned in the direction of the river’s edge. A shadow stood beneath a tree. Bundled in heavy winter clothes, I couldn’t imagine a homeless man was going to save us.
Jordan laughed as he spoke, “God save you and protect you. Now carry on.” He waved his hand as if he was shooing off a disobedient child until we heard the click of a trigger.
“God save you,” the voice repeated, “if you come near them again.” There was a pause until the masculine voice spoke a second time. “Perkins, take the girl inside. You,” he addressed Jordan, “start walking away.”
Arturo alive…
[Perkins]
On autopilot, I swept up Hollister, who whimpered. I carried her into my warm home before collapsing with her in my arms. Her body shook with cold; possibly fear. We were both covered now in my blood. The cut wasn’t deep. A surface scratch, but I was a bleeder. The white t-shirt took much of the sharpness out of the sting, but my nerves were at the end. I wasn’t a fighter by nature, but the anger that reared through me took over at the thought that Jordan Waters dared come within Hollister’s presence. He’d already damaged her enough. I wasn’t about to let him place a hint of fear inside her again. This time I would protect her.
When she appeared outside, I lost my concentration for a moment, and a cold panic slipped through me as I watched Jordan admire Hollister. His appraising gaze crept over my skin like a thousand millipedes, and the unbalance of this man was apparent. His control over Hollister was evident as she momentarily acted as if she might actually go to him. That was never going to happen in my presence. Or even without my presence. He would never have her again. I planned to be the last man to love her. In fact, I’d also be the first, because it was clear that Jordan did not love Hollister. Whatever he did want with her, it did not include loving her.
Hollister sat curled in my lap again, as we fell to the floor amongst the leftover dishes of our dinner. She clung to me, shaking in my arms as I held her as close to me as I could. I trembled as well. I wasn’t sure how I was going to turn my back on Jordan and get Hollister away safely, until I heard his voice.
I couldn’t see the person in the shadow. I didn’t know who lurked by the water. I would have guessed a homeless man like Jordan said, but I knew that voice. I’d listened to it day in and day out, sing songs of love, regret, and sorrow for almost ten years. His voice was as recognizable to me as my own.
Arturo.
It had to have been Arturo, and yet, I wasn’t convinced I hadn’t just dreamt the whole thing.
“Hollister? Did you hear someone speak out there? Someone saved us,” I said shakily, stroking her hair and rubbing down her back.
“I did,” she whispered. I couldn’t say more. My stomach began to ache and burn as she shifted against me. I winced.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” she said, pulling back from me. I clutched at her to hold her close.
“Perk,” she mumbled against my neck before she kissed it briefly. “Let me go.”
“Never,” I hissed. It seemed almost inappropriate, but she giggled.
“I mean, let me get up,” she said again against my neck. I released my hold and she pushed gently back from me. We both looked down at my shirt that was covered in red and had bled over to her.
“I’m…I’m going to be okay,” I said. “I just need to clean us up.”
She slowly untangled herself from me and stood. I saw her still shaking and her skin was cold. Her feet were raw and bright pink. She was barely dressed and the fabric of the shirt was thin. I could see right through to the dark mound and pink skin of her nipples. Jordan got a view of that, as well. I shuddered again as if hundreds of spiders crawled down my back.
She walked away from me and I heard the start of the shower. I stood slowly and followed. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she bent forward to sample the temperature of the water, and I rose stiff. There was no way to hide my body’s response to her, and it surprised me that I would react, despite the pain in my abs.
She turned to me and pulled my shirt upward. A look of dismay crossed her face.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?”
The slice on my stomach was long but not deep.
“I’m fine,” I lied. As the warmth of the room began to surround us, I could feel the tug of my open skin. She removed my pants in a manner that was vaguely seductive. I was a bit embarrassed that I sprang to life further as she bent to help me step out of the sweats.
“Just ignore me,” I tried to laugh, fully hard and facing her. She smiled shyly at me, and I felt like an idiot. She guided me to step into the shower. I winced as the warm water stung the incision. The curtain closed, enveloping me in the stream of warmth, and then she joined me. She watched for a minute as the dark red flowed from my cut and spilled in rivers on the tub floor.
“You were defending me,” she said softly, as shaky hands reached toward the bleeding space but didn’t go so far as to touch me.
“I was,” I said. I watched her cool white skin start to pink in the warmth of the water. She shivered and I made us trade places so the stream of the shower covered her. She pushed her hair back under the spray and closed her eyes for a moment. My body responded greatly to the sensual caress of her hand down her hair and the rivulets of water cascading over her neck, down her chest to waterfall off her breasts. I swallowed hard.
“Why?”
“Why, what?” I blinked, trying to clear my head at the trail of water that snaked a path down her flat stomach and gathered at the dark clump of hair at the apex of her legs.
“Why did you defend me?”
My eyes jumped up to meet hers.
“Because I…” I wasn’t sure I could say it again. “I love you.” Her shoulders dropped and her face fell a little. My heart slipped to my aching gut. I was turning away from her when her delicate hand touched my back.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t turn away.”
Facing her, I stared into her steel gray eyes. They were hard, but they were scared. Whether she was scared of Jordan or scared to love me I wasn’t certain, but at this moment she needed me. That much I knew was true.
“Let me wash away what he did?” I asked. It sounded like a plea. I reached for the soap and lathered my hands then softly washed her neck, shoulders, and arms. Her eyes closed again as I continued to massage her skin with my fragrant wash. Across her stomach first, then I turned her to rub the tension out of her back. I skimmed over her ass and bent as best I could to rub down each thigh and calf. I held one foot and then the other before running a trail back up her legs to her center. I paused just below her core. We faced one another as the water baptized over her.
“Touch me,” she whispered and my greedy fingers slipped inside her. She called out my name the instant I filled her. Her hands shot out to steady her by gripping my biceps. I watched as her hips rocked and my hand was filled with her. I worked her slowly, dragging to the edge and then creeping back inside her warmth. She moaned and bucked, then begged me to go faster. I increased my pace and watched myself spring to full life between us, as my fingers worked her until she said my name like a prayer of absolution.
I slowly released myself from her tight clasp and her eyes focused on my hard shaft. I stood so erect I balanced between us, and shaky hands reached for me. The second she wrapped around me I sighed. She made quick work of rubbing soap between her hands then one hand surrounded me while the other caressed the rest of me. My chest was massaged as my dick was stroked. My bic
eps were covered while she tugged me toward her. She spun me to wash my back then tried to reach around me, but I returned to face her as the water rinsed off my backside. Two hands suddenly gripped me, one around the thick length of me, one under me, squeezing and rolling my balls. I was warm, relaxed and on sensory overload, as her hands worked a magic I’d never known alone in the shower and would never know again, if she left me.
The dream…a new one…
[Perkins]
Hollister and I settled back into my bed. I could tell she was nervous about being in the room again. She seemed flustered with where to place her arm after we made a makeshift bandage for my abs. I only had one Tylenol, so I took that before we crawled under the covers. I was cold again, despite the warmth of the shower and the comfort of Hollister being curled into me. My mind drifted as I dozed, and I had the strangest dream.
I was in the woods. Flashes of Hollister scolding me as I tried to help her uncle. Flashes of Hollister telling me to leave her in the woods. Flashes of Hollister under me, over me. Suddenly this Jordan character was there and he was moving her around, like a chess piece. She was slid to the side of me, and when I reached for her, he’d move her again. Away from me she slipped, and I took a giant step toward her to have her pulled back from me. I cringed at the sight of his hands on her shoulders, moving her like a pawn. We were suddenly on a giant chessboard like a famous wizard movie. Her eyes didn’t meet mine as he dragged her from checkerboard square to checkerboard square. On white. On black. It was almost like a dance, as I followed her around and around with Jordan leading her. Finally, his voice broke over the eerie music in my head.
“I take the queen,” he said and she disappeared with him. I woke with a start and felt the fiery ache below my heart. I shivered, despite the heat of my skin and groaned. I heard warbled voices speaking my name but the image of Jordan tugging Hollister back from me haunted my brain. I called her name, and I think she replied, but I wasn’t certain.
Time passed. I sensed it, but wasn’t aware of it, until I felt something cool on my forehead. My mouth was heavy, as if filled with a thick paste, and my body felt sticky. I was too hot. I pushed the blanket over me down to my waist then slid my hand to the right of me, reaching for Hollister. Rolling my head, the brightness of the day peeked through the slats of my blinds and images slowly crossed my memory.
A fight.
A gun.
A voice.
“Arturo,” I moaned softly.
“He’s not here,” said a masculine voice beside me. I rolled slowly to meet the eyes of Tristan Lyons. Moss green, dark, and full of mirth, he smiled slowly at me as he wiped something cool across my head.
“What the fuck?” I blurted, trying to sit up, until the fire in my stomach forced me back down as if someone was ripping me open.
“Lay back, man,” he said, his voice surprisingly soothing.
“Where’s Hollister?” I asked letting my head roll back and forth across the pillow as if she was just there and suddenly gone.
“She went to the store.”
I tried to sit up again. “She can’t go alone.”
“She’s not. She’s with Guinie.”
“What happened?” I asked, letting my hand fall across a thick bandage that wrapped around my stomach.
“I’d like to ask you the same thing, Perky,” his voice sounded sincere, despite the playful use of the silly name.
“I…I don’t exactly know. A man was outside…” I paused, uncertain I should go into detail about Hollister and Jordan’s past, “…and he threatened Hollister. Then…” I paused again.
Arturo? Was it really him?
“Then someone saved us. I…I think it was…I think it was...” I swallowed hard, but before I could answer, the heavy thud of my entrance door closed. Two feminine voices laughed as they approached my kitchen area, which I could see from my position on the bed.
“How’s the patient?” Guinevere asked, full of concern, but with tenderness I had heard her use before. I wasn’t in the direct line of her affection, but I’d heard it all the same. For Arturo.
“He was just telling me about a man who saved them,” Tristan’s voice faded in the background to me, as I saw Hollister standing in my doorway. Dressed in her own jeans and a large sweater, I realized she’d somehow left me, if she wore those clothes. She came here in only a dress and those damn heels. I smiled immediately, despite myself, and so did she, slowly. I was warmed in a way that nothing compared to in the past.
“What man?” Guinevere asked. I watched as Hollister’s face masked instantly. The smile gone, the steel of gray restored.
“A man near the river threatened…another man…with a gun. We didn’t want to believe him until we heard the click of a trigger. I wasn’t sure who he intended to shoot, until he told Perkins to take me inside.”
“The man knew you,” Guinevere’s bright blue eyes were focused on my face, but I tried to remain still, and keep contact with Hollister.
“Well, yes, he addressed me by name,” I said.
“Who was it?” Guinie asked, a quiver to her voice. We all knew that Arturo had been spotted in the city. He’d been seen outside a coffee shop, and it went viral within hours. He looked the same, but tired and a bit worn. The way he held his body, he looked defeated and possibly heartbroken.
My eyes narrowed on Guinevere. I couldn’t be certain it was Arturo. Maybe I had dreamed the sound of his voice. If it had been him, why didn’t he follow me? Why didn’t he approach me? Why didn’t he show himself?
“The person was Mike McMann,” Hollister interjected.
“Who?” three voices said in unison.
“Someone I used to know. He’s been stalking me, following me, and it appears he was outside the other night.”
“What?” I said, forcing myself to sit up this time, regardless of the burning line that ripped across my stomach.
Hollister quickly approached me, working her way between Tristan, who I could see sat on a chair next to the bed, and Guinevere, who was standing slightly to the side of him.
“Lay back,” she said softly, as her delicate, but firm hands forced me to lower myself.
“What happened?” I said, rubbing a hand down my face. My typical close trim beard was thick and bushy. It itched.
“You had a fever,” she said. “I had to stitch you up.”
“You? Stitched me up?” I blinked in disbelief.
“Well, not me, Marie. And one Tylenol was definitely not enough for a big guy like you. She had to give you something stronger.” She smiled softly.
“Stronger,” Tristan snorted. “We needed an animal tranquilizer to hold you down, big guy.”
“I called Tristan for help. He picked up Marie, came with Guinie, Tylenol, and some gauze wrap.” Hollister continued. She waved at my abdominal area, and I noticed for the first time the huge covering around my lower body.
“Why didn’t I go to the doctor?” I asked.
“Because you refused, and you’re too big for me to move myself,” she said, sheepishly looking over her shoulder at the other two in the room.
“What did I do?” I asked concerned that I’d tried to hurt her.
“I don’t think I should say,” she whispered loudly, then peeked over her shoulder again.
“What?”
“You kept pulling me down on you, telling me to dance with you.”
“What?” Tristan laughed out loud. “Perk doesn’t know how to dance.”
“Yes, I do,” I tried to defend, although it was a lie.
“Oh, yeah, like this.” Making an exaggerated motion with his arms waving above his head and wiggling his mid-section, Tristan claimed to imitate me. I smirked. He might have been right.
“Let’s get back to this Michael McMann,” I demanded.
“Let’s not,” Hollister spoke, her voice firm in that way that told me I would learn no more from her on the subject.
It appears I had been out for two full days. Marie w
as trained in medical attention from previous experience, possibly. Hollister wasn’t certain of the details, but she knew that she trusted Marie, who gave me a large dose of morphine to sedate me and then stitched twenty strokes to hold my skin together. Apparently, the cut was worse than I thought. Hollister said I was sweating like crazy, moaning in pain. When she noticed that the skin around the open skin was turning bright red, she called Tristan, like she said, who picked up Marie.
“Let’s talk about you two sleeping together,” Tristan broke in.
“Okay, let’s not,” Guinie said, hitting him playfully on the back of the head. It was good to see her smile, if only for a moment. She looked hollow to me. Pale with eyes a bit too bright. She was still lovely, but to me, Hollister was strikingly beautiful in comparison. Tristan laughed and Guinie smiled deeper.
“I think we need to let Perkins have more rest,” Guinie suggested. She smiled softly at Hollister, who was now kneeling on the floor next to the bed; her hand laid on my shoulder, over the chain mail tattoo. It seemed almost as if she were comfortable, until Tristan stared. Hollister pulled back her hand slowly, tucking it under her arm.
“Thanks, man,” I addressed him. It sounded sarcastic so I corrected myself. “I mean it. Thanks for helping Hollister.”
“Well, I wasn’t really helping her. I was trying to help you. You kind of scared her,” he said. I looked at Hollister, who was looking down at the space between the bed and her body.
“Tristan?” Guinie spoke.
“Okay, got it. Need anything. Call again. Don’t go out alone,” Tristan warned Hollister. “And no more saving damsels in distress. You found her, right? Keep her.”
I blinked at Tristan, who stood quickly and placed a hand on Guinevere’s back. She leaned forward and kissed my forehead, then ran a soothing hand down my thick-haired face.
“You need a shave,” she teased.
“I’ll get right on it.” I smiled to reassure her. She looked suddenly concerned and weary, like she had a question to ask me. Then thought better of it and smiled weakly, instead.
