by Amarie Avant
Burt, my old pal, really was thinking on his toes when he had Paul quickly put in place my new identity as Special Agent Victor Gary. All for the sake of not having to provide my true title to Detective Caruso. My Queen would be outraged, my title snatched away for such actions.
I let her go and introduce Luxury to the three ex-Navy Seals that will be on a 24-hour rotation, so that I can keep my promise to Madeline and be home by evening. PI Bobby George and his associates were murdered by the sniper right after Bobby called this evening to tell me Whitson didn’t do much today.
“Oh, thank you, Agent…?” Lux seeks out their names as I make introductions.
Big beefy heads and thick necks, Burt has already prepped them not to speak unless spoken to. Finally, I take Luxury into her father’s room, so we can have a bit of privacy as I tell her the truth.
Lux
With my father all but two feet away, Victor tells me that he is not a doctor nor is he a Federal Agent. The sound of different medical gadgets throughout the room fogs my mind, as I murmur, “Then who are you?”
Tears burn my eye ducts, and like a broken dam. My stomach, my heart, my entire body is sinking as a woman’s intuition takes over. Yet, I stand strong.
“I’m one of the assassins who came to murder your father,” Victor begins. Then as if it’s not enough that he has dashed my spirits, and snatched out my heart, Victor adds, in fact he was the very first assassin.
“So, why didn’t you just kill my father?” I ask, with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. Now that my heart is in Victor’s hands, he still won’t stop hurting me. There’s the lighter fluid, match, and my heart is up in flames as I stare at this man, that I’m so madly in love with.
I look at the clock. It’s 9 a.m. I’ve officially known him for 29 days. Still less than a month. Still my heart can do no less than love him with every inch of me. I ask with a cold tone, “Victor, why didn’t you just kill my father and go about your business?”
“Because I met you first,” he sighs.
“If we hadn’t met.” I snap my fingers. “No more Dad, huh? Guess you running into me was just my luck, huh?” I rub away the tears with my forearm; this man does not deserve to see me like this. “So, who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Victor D’Ross,” he says.
“Victor D’Ross,” I hear myself saying. Victor had told me last night after sneaking into my bedroom around two a.m. I shrug, “How much was Jonah Whitson worth?”
“$500,000. That exact dollar amount was given to me when taking this assignment.”
“Assignment?” My eyes look out toward the three stoic men. “Are they assassins, too? How does one’s life become just an assignment? How does–”
“Luxury, please listen,” Victor tries to take my hand. Even the touch makes my body react, heart traitor to all rationality. I yank my hand away and fold my arms instead.
“No, there’s nothing you can say. Allow me to thank you,” I begin in a smirk, giving a quick curtsy. “Thank you so much for not murdering my father.” I chuckle as if this is the dumbest statement I’ll ever make. “I don’t want to see you ever again, Victor D’Ross. I hate you.” I spit those words out like fire and wipe away the tears that keep falling.
These treacherous tears are telltale signs of how much I adore this evil man.
“Please, I care so much about you, Lux.” His sapphire eyes tug at my heartstrings.
“Fuck you! Fuck that, Victor.” I step closer to my Dad’s bed, needing wisdom and courage. “You’re a murderer! Get the hell on, you and your psychotic ass friends. Yeah, I’m guessing you can afford to have these motherfuckers here keeping me safe. All because of shame and guilt for lying to me.”
He shakes his head, “Luxury, if only you understood.”
“I understand this, and I hope you do too, because I know you and all your selfishness rarely, if ever listen.” My neck rolls around with each word, I exclaim, “I do not want to set eyes on you ever again.”
“If that is your wish,” he starts to grab something from the inside of the Burberry suit jacket.
“Yes, that’s as I wish.” I glare at a phone in his hand. “I wish we never met.” There’s a tension in Victor’s jaw that tells me that words have gotten to him. Well, fuck that!
“Take it. You don’t have to see me anymore, but when you are willing, I would like to talk to you,” Victor says in that ever-calming tone of his. “Keep this phone, you can call me, I will answer anytime of the day.”
“No,” I shake my head.
“At least, allow me to explain fully. It’s too much now, all at once,” Victor looks over at my father then me. “Allow me to tell you who murdered your mother when you’re ready.”
“My mother!” I shout, wanting to wrap my hands around this man’s neck and choke him. I want to murder this nutcase!
“Don’t fucking go there, Victor. I actually,” pausing, I try to compose myself but can’t. Feelings of anger, strife, and rage take hold of me. “I let you in,” I touch my chest, sniffling back even more tears, “I told you things about me that I would never tell anybody else. My mother and me; I fucking let you into all of that. You bring her up now! You manipulative son of a bitch!”
Fear clings as Victor takes my shoulders. I don’t want him to ever touch me again. The very feel of his hands is repulsive and reminds me of death! Victor looks me in the eyes. His voice is hard. He implores, “Luxury, listen to me. I promise to tell you all about your mother’s death and your father’s botched assassin.”
“Promises are no good,” are my last words to Victor. He places the phone on the rolling tray near the door and is out of my life.
My brain hopes for good.
My heart…
The rain begins to softly strum against the windows.
Victor
Soon as I make it back to the private airport, I get out of my Mercedes with a tense grumble. My Learjet is on the glider and ready to go. Burt is just at the bottom of the steps waiting, with a face that is unreadable.
“Fuck!” I shout. My hands go to the roof of the car, and I begin to kick it in. Denting and pounding and kicking it, all the while thinking about Luxury, Doctor Whitson and that motherfucker Doctor Charles Everhart.
Lux hates me.
Jonah Whitson will survive, but it’s my fault that Luxury had to shed another tear.
Doctor Everhart, he’s as easy to catch as air.
My balled fist goes into the driver window and glass crashes down into the chair and onto my shoes. I continue to cuss in a manner unfit for royalty, but I’ve skirted the line for years. I am my father’s son. So, who gives a fuck?
I snatch off my jacket and toss it on the ground, then laugh at myself for having a grown man tantrum. With my right-hand dripping in blood, I start toward the jet.
“Let’s go, Vic,” Burt says in the very tone that he used to employ right before taking me to bandage up yet another wound while playing rugby or because of my father.
Inside of the jet are sleek cherry wood walls and four rows of thick buttery leather black recliner chair. I won’t be getting any sleep. I’ll be contemplating how to find Everhart.
“Paul–”
“He’s still searching, Victor,” Burt cuts me off, knowing the way my mind works. “Paul put the search on hold, when you were questioned by the police, Victor. He pulled a hell of a lot of stings just to enter ‘Special Agent Gary’ into the bureau database. You are human; you are a royal not an immortal. Moreover, what would Her Majesty the Queen think?” Burt begins while going for the wet bar. He reaches in one of the cupboards to grab the first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol.
Grandmother or not, The Queen would be angry with me.
Burt cocks his head toward the seats. “Take this break, just a few days. Then we will have Everhart’s information–I’m sure of it, and we can murder him.”
“We?” Again, I ask my most trusted companion while sinking down into one of the plush chairs.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Burt pours shots of Bourbon and taking out peroxide and bandages from the first aid kit. “Now we know Luxury will be safe. Paul hand selected three exceptional candidates. They will watch her round the clock.”
“Yeah, she better be safe.”
“Or you plan to murder the three Ex-Navy Seals?” Burt chuckles as I pour peroxide on the back of my right hand. “Victor, I’ve heard so many good things about them.”
“Yeah, but you’re like my father, you’re supposed to believe in me,” we both laugh at that.
Burt’s laughter ends on a sigh, he’s been wound up for a while. I glare as the peroxide begins to bubble up on my bloodied knuckles. He quickly wraps it with gauze.
“So,” he begins, “May I ask a question?”
“What kind of question is ‘may I ask a question’? I’ve told you before that is the question.”
For a second, our bodies are pushed back in the seat as the jet begins to glide.
Burt has this questioning look in his eyes. Then he proceeds to ask the questions that warrant no answers. “It’s impossible for you to insert yourself in Luxury’s world. But if you place her in yours, how will she survive?”
I look at my tightly bound hand. There are so many dominating characters in Arlington. They would strive to eat Lux alive. No matters the fact that I will murder each and every one of these wolves for allowing one tear to drop from Luxury’s eyes. Right now, she doesn’t want to know me, anyway. So, I’ve made a vow. If she doesn’t seek or call me, then I will keep her request. I will not seek her. I will not call her.
My phone begins to ring. It’s the private phone for X-Members only. So, I don’t have to answer Burt at the moment anyway.
“Hello Victor,” the automated voice begins. “The funds have just cleared our account. Those 72-hour holds can be a doozy. Maybe in the future, when the tension has died down, you can come back to the team.”
“Fuck off.” I hang up at that.
X-Member is finally out of the way. Ironically, the program that brought me to my favorite past time, as well as bringing me to the young lady that I have such hard feelings for. Maybe it was selfish of me to withhold Everhart’s identity from Detective Caruso, but I want to make good on that promise, when Lux is ready.
I’ll abide by Luxury’s wishes and never seek her again. Lux has my number if she wants. By that time, I’ll have dealt with Everhart. Then the truth will mend her broken spirit.
For now, I’ll await Lux’s call.
Luxury
Despite my strengthened and renewed hatred of the rain, the sound puts me to sleep last night. There are three thin, rough knit blankets over my body as I am curled into a ball on the seat next to my dad’s hospital bed. The surgeon said he would be sleeping for a while longer to allow the anesthesia to fully absorb in his body. The surgeon recommended lots of rest was important for Dad.
I smile over at him, glad that Dad will pull through. I kind of get why he hated on my relationship with Victor in the first place. Hell, to be honest, Dad’s intuition was right. Besides being jealous that he was losing our evening hang out sessions, Dad must have felt Victor’s dishonesty.
I look at his bandaged waistline. As Dad sleeps, I wonder what I would do without him. No matter how much I ignore him on occasion, I love my daddy so much.
“Ma’am, good morning.” The Korean nurse smiles at me, as she begins to check his vital signs. “Oh, Miss Whitson, we can’t have the phone near all this equipment.”
“Phone?” I yawn.
“Yes,” she picks up the cell phone that Victor had left me.
“Is this yours or should I take it to lost and found?” Her eyebrows crinkle.
“Yeah, it’s… it belongs to me,” I decide to grab the phone, pressing the power down button, I then put it in my purse on the chair next to me.
I won’t be calling Victor. Not ever. But if he calls me, then I might answer.
For a while, my mind is consumed by Victor D’Ross. He's an assassin who makes a lot of money by offing people. So cold. So callous. How could I love someone who takes lives? Who plays God?
I wash my face and brush my teeth in the public bathroom, and then head back to Jonah’s room. He’s still sleeping, so I grab one of the books that Victor had sent up to me after he left. My choices are a Sandra Brown mystery and a Harlequin Romance. I decide to turn the television on, volume low, and pray the idiot box burns a few of my brain cells so I don’t have to think.
“Miss Whitson.” One of the Navy Seals that Victor left me with enters. They told me that one would always be with me, and he seems chattier than the rest–well, technically because he just said the first words ever.
“Yes?” My eyebrow rises.
“You have a visitor, ‘Uncle Red’?” H says, gauging my comprehension.
My jaw drops, and I smile. “Uncle Red, let him in!” I whisper ecstatically, while hurrying to my feet.
Uncle Red isn’t really my uncle, but he’s known my father since they were in college. Both being geniuses, they were rivals, and borderline neurotic, or so Mommy would say. Gina had worked at a diner, “the kick it spot” right off the university campus grounds. Mom had attended the junior college around the way for a while but trying to take care of her own sick mother too, Gina didn’t make it. When she dropped out, she found that she still liked working at the diner. That’s where she met the two guys, they had fought over her, and I could tell deep down Red must have been the good looking one back in the day.
Anyway, Uncle Red is of mixed descent, hence the nickname Red. A chemical fire burned him in the laboratory when I was 6 years old. I remember being so afraid of him. His body was covered in burns.
It took his joking to get me to warm up to him to remember Uncle Red as the man that used to make me smile as a toddler. Matter fact, Uncle Red got on Jonah for taking the training wheels off my bike after my first skinned knee. My play uncle is always and forever on my side. As I aged, I realized that Uncle Red’s intelligent, yet elaborate jokes were confusing, but I love him all the same.
“Oh, Lux, Seems I’m always coming around when something bad happens,” Uncle Red purses his lips as he enters the room, in a beige linen suit. I haven’t seen him since Mom’s funeral, and an even longer time, the time before that, so I try not to stare at the burns on his face.
“No uncle, I’m just glad you’re here,” I reply.
“I’m glad you called, Lux.” He takes a look at his best friend, and places a Rubik cube on the table beside Dad. Then Uncle Red comes to give me a hug.
We hold each other tightly for a while. Even though Uncle Red’s my play uncle, I’ve grown to adore this man, whose real name is Doctor Charles Everhart. I know that just one dose of his jokes will raise my spirits. Maybe Uncle Red can take Victor from my mind, for just a while…
If we deny love that is given to us,
If we refuse to give love because we fear pain or loss,
Then our lives will be empty, our loss greater…
~ Oprah Winfrey
Did I meet or exceed your expectations with Fear? It’s like Christmastime every chance I get to read a new review, so here’s your chance to play Santa by leaving a review. Also, check out the second and third installment, they’re even better than the first.
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