by J. E. Taylor
“How much are apartments out your way?” Steve asked.
Chris paused and met his gaze. “No way. I don’t want to lead that crazy bastard back to my house in York.” He chewed on his lip and traded a glance with Jessica. “I’ve got a place in the city if you’re interested.”
“New York?”
“Is there any other city?” He opened the driver’s side door.
Steve looked at the cabin and back at Chris. The alternative was not something he wanted to broach so he nodded. “That could work.”
Chris paused with the door open. “You really don’t want to go in that house, do you?”
Steve shook his head. “Not really.” Not alone. He hadn’t meant for them to hear the thought but the change in Chris’s expression told him otherwise.
Chris tossed the keys on the front seat and looked over at Jessica. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said to Steve. “I’ll hang for a few.”
Steve tilted his head. “Why?”
“Because being alone sucks,” Chris answered and approached the door. It popped open with a slight tilt of Chris’s head. He waltzed into the empty living room without waiting for Steve. The cottage was bigger than he first thought, with an open layout and bedrooms lining the far wall. He crossed the room to the bay window looking out at the lake.
“Seriously, why are you doing this?” Steve asked, crossing the expanse to the bedroom, pausing at the door for the answer.
“Self preservation,” Chris answered.
Steve burst out laughing.
Chris didn’t crack a smile.
“You’re not kidding.” Steve let his laughter fizzle out.
“No. I’m not kidding.” He let his lips curl into a wisp of a smile. “It’s all about me.”
Steve kept eye contact and could hear nothing but static in the man’s head. His gaze drifted to the kitchen and a sharp pang almost doubled him over. Samantha’s last moments, her last experiences in this world, filled with pain that ended when the bomb jacket Kyle outfitted her in blew her to heaven.
Damn him.
He turned and disappeared into the bedroom, grabbing a suitcase out of the closet and throwing clothes in. But no matter how hard he jammed his threads into his bag, it didn’t satisfy the burning in his veins.
This time he wouldn’t hesitate.
This time he wouldn’t miss.
This time he’d get vengeance.
He stopped and closed his eyes, his hands balling into tight fists and then loosening with the calming breaths he forced himself to take. When he had his temper in check, he opened his eyes and reached for the nightstand drawer, hoping his keys were there because if they weren’t, he had no clue where Jack put them.
“Shit,” he mumbled at the keyless drawer and headed to the office. He threw the door open and stared at the array of documents still scattered on the desk. Jack didn’t take a thing from the office. Everything was exactly where he left it last spring when he closed the door the night before his life blew to bits.
He pulled the top drawer and it didn’t budge, still locked. The left hand drawer slid open and Steve closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. The extra set of keys sat on the stack of unopened mail and he plucked them from the pile, unlocking the top drawer. He sat back, raising his gaze to Chris leaning against the doorjamb waiting.
“I’m not sure any of the cars will start.” Steve grabbed a paper box and dumped the documents into it.
“Which car did you want to take?”
Steve looked up. “The one in the garage,” he answered, still shuffling paperwork into the box. “We’re gonna have to move Jennifer’s car to get it out of the garage.” Steve said, tossing the keys to Chris. “Think you can handle that?”
“You really are a wise ass.” Chris disappeared, his footsteps echoing across the hardwood.
Steve slid the top drawer open and stared at the vial of cocaine. Jack hadn’t been through the drawer otherwise this would be gone.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Steve raised his eyes to Chris standing back in the doorway. A swarm of excuses filled his brain, none of which reached his tongue before Chris spoke again.
“You aren’t a junkie.”
“I was hooked for a little while,” Steve said, admitting to something even his wife didn’t know.
“Leave it here.” The command was clear and Chris’s eye bore into him.
Steve pulled a file out and closed the drawer. The lock clicked, engaging without the use of his keys and his gaze shot to Chris.
“I’ll go get the cars moved around for you,” Chris said and left Steve alone in the office.
Chapter 28
Chris stared at the interior of the open garage, a vintage BMW roadster sat, dusty and waiting for the next road trip. It reminded him of the restored Corvette in his garage in York. The fact that Steve had done all the work impressed him to no end. He popped the trunk and slung the suitcase inside.
Jessica walked by him with the bags Steve had stowed in their trunk, dropping them in the BMW. “Sweet car.” She paused at the garage entrance. “When are we going to New York?” She kept her back to him.
“You and the kids are staying in Maine.”
Jessica turned. “I haven’t gone a day without you by my side in ten years.”
“Sorry, babe. I don’t want you and the kids around for this one.” He glanced back toward the cottage. “We both know how relentless hit men can be and this is personal on all sides.” He sighed and headed out of the garage. “It’s going to get really ugly, really quickly, especially between the two of us.” He hooked his thumb toward the house. “He’s not going to like me interfering.”
“How long?”
Chris glanced at her. “As long as it takes for me to find him.”
“You’re going to kill him?”
Chris nodded. “Unless Steve backs down and he hauls the bastard in, but I highly doubt that.” He looked at the key ring and the car blocking the garage entrance trying to figure out which was which. “I might end up in jail when this is all over.” He glanced back at her, suppressing the urge to say or worse.
Jessica shook her head. “You can’t.”
Chris shrugged. “It depends on the FBI.” He opened the door to Jennifer’s car and pushed the key in the ignition, turning it. Nothing happened, not even a click in the engine. The battery was indeed dead.
He exhaled and climbed out of the car, harnessing the power merged in his cells as he positioned himself between their car and Jennifer’s. The adrenaline rush that came with conjuring the magic inside him surged and he smiled, locking his gaze with his wife’s.
The dead car slid sideways and what he saw in Jessica’s eyes turned his cocky smile into a heat-seeking grin. Awe, he could still inspire awe in her and that more than the power rush gave him the determination to make things right—to get a second chance at redemption.
His controlled power created ripples in the air, moving outwards, pushing the vehicle out of the path Steve needed to get his vintage BMW out of the garage and onto the road.
“Holy shit,” Steve said, interrupting Chris’s concentration.
When the path was wide enough to bring his car forward, Chris stopped and glanced at Steve, exhausted. “You’re going to need a jump for the Beemer.” He tossed the keys to Steve and took a step toward his car, stumbling for a moment as the world tilted. Jessica’s yell muffled in his ears as darkness descended.
“Catch him,” Jessica yelled.
Steve reacted, catching Chris before he hit his head on Jessica’s car. He put him on the ground and looked up at Jessica. “Is this normal?”
“No.” Jessica shook her head, kneeling by Chris’s side and patting his cheeks.
Chris’s eyes fluttered open and he glanced up at Jessica and Steve before sitting up. “Damn, that’s never happened before.”
“You’ve never moved a car before,” Jessica said.
“I’ve made a car e
xplode,” he said as he got to his feet. “Besides, I move things all the time at home.”
“You move food and sometimes furniture, but that’s it.”
Steve glanced between the two of them listening to the absurd conversation and started to chuckle. “Sorry guys, but this is the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever heard.”
Jessica broke out in a grin. “I would imagine it is.” She put her hand out for the car keys.
“You’re out of your mind woman. I’m driving home.”
“You just passed out,” she said.
“I don’t care. The only reason I tolerated being a passenger with you for all these years was because I couldn’t see.”
Jessica stiffened and her lips pressed together in irritation.
“I love you more than life itself, but I hate the way you drive, babe,” Chris said and went to kiss her cheek.
She stepped out of his reach and crossed her arms, leveling him with a gaze only an unhappy wife can muster.
“Fine, be that way.” Chris strode to the car and slid inside, turning the engine over and pulling it up to the garage, close enough so jumper cables could reach the engine of the BMW. “You have jumper cables?” he asked.
Steve nodded and walked to the back of the garage to retrieve the cables. He stopped, staring at the crib he had taken down while Jennifer was in the hospital. The sudden onslaught of heartache froze him in place and his breath locked in his chest.
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” Chris said.
“Don’t be such an insensitive jackass.” Jessica breezed past her husband and put her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Steve shook his head, words unable to form under the pressure crushing his soul. His gaze was glued to the crib, to the stark reminder of all he had lost.
Jessica reached out and turned his face toward her. “It never goes away,” she said when his eyes found hers. “But it does get easier with every day that passes.”
Steve nodded and turned away before the tears found their way down his cheeks. His paralysis broke and he reached for the jumper cables hanging on the wall, turning away from the unassembled crib and crossed the garage to the front of his BMW, dropping the cables. Hot tears blurred his vision and he squatted, releasing the hood, propping it up and leaning on the car with his chin resting on his chest. Grief flowed in silent tears, burning his throat and heating his skin.
“Go get in the driver’s seat. Jess and I can put on the cables,” Chris said.
Steve nodded and stepped over the discarded cables. Sliding behind the steering wheel, he waited for further instructions, swiping the tears away.
Grief morphed into irritation and he ground his teeth together, willing the turmoil back into Pandora’s Box. He knew if he operated on emotion alone, he was a dead man.
Turn her over. Chris’s voice echoed in his mind, bringing him out of his reverie.
Steve turned the key and the engine caught. He let the car idle until Chris closed the hood and backed his car up to make room for the BMW. There were still a few things he needed in the cottage, so he threw the car in neutral, set the parking brake, and headed back into the house.
In the office, he shoved papers and files into a box, muttering at his complete lack of self-control.
“You need to chill a little,” Chris said as he leaned against the doorjamb.
Steve glared at him. “He’s out there.”
“I promise, when I’m through with him, he’ll wish he had never been born,” Chris said with an evil smile.
Steve shivered at the combination of the smile and the look in Chris’s eyes. Fueled by the glimpse of his life, Steve concluded that Ty Aris, a.k.a. Chris Ryan, was the most unnerving man he’d ever been in contact with.
Chris’s gaze bore into Steve. “Are you finished?”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Steve snapped, unnerved by the stark stare.
“I’m not very patient,” Chris said, leaving the slightest of smiles on his lips and his eyes danced with amusement.
Steve stood up straight. “I’m glad I amuse you.”
“You’re going to be quite entertaining over the next few weeks.”
“Fuck you.”
Chris chuckled. “I seem to bring out the best in everyone I come in contact with.”
Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe that’s because you’re a cold soulless bastard.”
Chris shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I have no idea how your wife deals with you every day,” Steve mumbled and finished packing up the last box. He turned his computer on and took a seat.
“Why don’t you just bring the whole computer with you? I’ve got a high speed set up and it’ll take no time at all to plug that into my network.”
“What’s your rush?” Steve glanced up at him.
“I haven’t been able to see for five years and my kids won’t be back till morning.” He raised his eyebrows. “I’m not heading to New York tonight.”
“Then just go,” Steve snapped. He didn’t want to think about what Chris was insinuating.
“You need the keys and my garage pass to get into the apartment building in New York.”
“I can get them in the morning,” Steve replied without meeting Chris’s stare.
“Just bring the hard drive and peripherals. I’ve got dual monitors.”
Steve shut down the computer and dumped the key board and mouse in the last box. He unhooked the hard drive and carried it to the car. The hard drive fit on the passenger floor with the last of the boxes taking up the passenger seat. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” Steve said and turned extending his hand to Chris.
Chris grasped Steve’s hand and pumped once before letting go. “Will do,” he said and turned to his car, halting at the sight of Jessica in the front seat ginning like a Cheshire cat. He opened the driver’s door. “I’m driving.”
Steve studied the dynamics between the two. “Good luck with that,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat of the BMW and waiting for resolution.
Chris stood with the door open while Jessica shook her head. “I am perfectly capable of driving home,” he said, clearly annoyed with his wife.
“I know you are.” She smiled up at him. “But this is my car.”
“Oh, for Christ sake!” He rolled his eyes, slammed the door and shuffled to the passenger side, slumping into the seat in misery.
Steve burst out laughing. Any doubts he had were gone. Mrs. Jessica Ryan was the boss in that family.
Fuck you. Chris’s voice swore in his mind.
“You are whipped, my friend,” Steve said aloud. Chris cracked a smile as Jessica backed the car into a turn and headed out of the driveway.
Chapter 29
The gravestone was grey marble and Steve knelt, tracing the name with his fingertips. He tried to say her name but no sound came out of his throat at first.
“Samantha.” The word finally squeezed out, wrapped in agony. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, sweetheart,” he whispered. He knelt on the grave with his hands on his thighs, shaking, as his tears glistened on the grass reeds. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. He wanted the pain to stop.
He closed his eyes, hanging his head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Steve?”
Steve stiffened, wiping the tears off his face. He glanced to his side. “Harry,” he said with a raw voice. “They let you out?” He got to his feet and turned.
Harry stepped back in shock. The flowers he was holding falling out of his grasp.
Steve’s hand flew to his left eye and he laughed. Shit. “I had surgery.” He floundered for some reasonable explanation. “Cornea transplant.”
Harry’s brow creased. “I didn’t know they were so advanced.”
Steve nodded offering a crooked smile. “Neither did I, but it turned out pretty close to the real deal.” He stuffed his hands into his pocket and surveyed the cemetery.
Harry looked down at the
gravesite.
“My daughter,” Steve said. His gaze fell on the mausoleum he and Jennifer had been imprisoned in three years ago and a shiver fought its way through him. He glanced back at Harry.
Harry stooped and picked up the flowers. “Amy’s grave is over there.” He pointed to the right.
Steve nodded. “Take care Harry.” He turned to leave, slipping his tinted glasses on.
“Surgery?” Harry asked, studying Steve.
Steve nodded. “Surgery,” he said, leaving Harry staring after him.
* * * *
Steve walked into her room, relieved that her parents weren’t there. He sat down next to Jennifer, taking her hand in his. The monitor’s beeps and whoosh of the oxygen machine filled the room and he ran his thumb over the side of her hand. Her mind was still a black hole but her cheeks were rosy and her arms looked fuller, less lethargic than the last time he saw her. Physically, she was regenerating, but the mental blankness still pervaded. A blow upside the head would have had less of an impact than her silence, and Steve opened his mind to the thoughts of the rest of the hospital, the din keeping the devastation at bay.
“I’m going to New York for a while,” he announced to her comatose ears.
A blip appeared on the brain wave monitor but Steve didn’t notice, the noise blended in with the rest of the chaos in his head. He took a deep breath and focused his attention back on his wife.
Steve pushed back the seat and lifted her thin hospital issued gown revealing the perfect skin of her abdomen. The C-section scar was gone, disappeared with Jessica’s healing infusion. He lowered the nightgown and returned the sheet. “Please come back to me,” he whispered, grazing her cheek with his lips.
Steve stood as the door swung open and Dr. Nevins came in.
“Mr. Williams,” he said, flipping the chart in his hand.
“Doc.”
Dr. Nevins looked between the woman in the bed and Steve and licked his lips. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, glancing at the chart again. “There’s been a new development.” He stepped to Jennifer’s side, pulling the sheet back. “One we can’t explain,” he continued, pulling the nightgown up as Steve had done a few minutes before.
