Hurricane Crimes

by Chrys Fey

  Donovan returned and sat down next to her, their legs touching. He tenderly placed the icepack on the purple and green explosion on her shoulder. Maroon specks, like shrapnel, shot out from the heart of the blast and a sickly yellow glare surrounded it. Their eyes latched instantly.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she told him.

  “Yes, I do.” His insistence silenced her argument. “Since you asked me questions, can I ask you some now?”

  “It’s only fair,” she replied.

  Donovan adjusted the icepack on her shoulder. “What do you do for a living?”

  She looked him in the eye. “I teach self-defense classes.”

  “Well, that explains a lot. You’re feisty and deceptively strong. God knows if a real murderer ever does try to kill you, he won’t succeed.”

  “Thank you. I take my work seriously.”

  “I can tell. Do you have family here?”

  She shook her head. “No family. I’m an only child, never knew any cousins. Both of my parents are dead.”

  “I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

  “My mother died three years ago from an inoperable brain tumor. It was slow and terrible. I wish I never saw her like that, because now I am plagued by that image of her, not of the beautiful woman she had been before the diagnosis.” Her throat became thick with unshed tears that were rising up from her heart.

  “My father died a month later. Nothing was physically wrong with him. All anyone could tell was he died of a broken heart.” Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She dashed them away quickly.

  “I’m so sorry, Beth.” Donovan’s hand caressed her arm. Then he caught her off guard with his next question, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  The salt drops in her eyes dried up instantly. “No,” she answered. “I was engaged, but I broke it off over a year ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the bastard was cheating on me during the four months we were engaged. When I found out, I broke his jaw then pawned my engagement ring.”

  “What man in his right mind would want to cheat on you?” Donovan’s question drew Beth to look into his eyes. “I mean, you are gorgeous,” he explained.

  Beth’s mouth peeled open in surprise.

  “You’re amazing. I doubt any other woman could do what you did today.” She didn’t see his hand move because she was staring into his eyes, but she did feel his fingers slip up her neck to her jaw. “How could any man want to touch any woman’s skin but yours?” Her heart tripped as his thumb cruised over her jaw line and his fingers cupped her chin. “Why would any man not want to kiss your sweet lips?” He dipped his head and she stopped breathing. His mouth brushed over hers lightly, as if he were testing her. The soft contact electrified her lips and they quivered apart to admit him.

  His hand framed the side of her face and his mouth molded around hers. She could taste the sweetness of the baby carrots on his lips and something else, something dangerous. Her brain was telling her to pull back, to stop him. You could be kissing a murderer, your potential murderer! But what he was doing felt too good. Her lips were melting into his, and he was drinking them like water. She sank into the kiss and let it take her away on its wings. Her right hand lifted and she combed her fingers through his rain-softened hair. A reluctant moan of surrender slithered up her throat as her mouth opened and her tongue slipped silkily against his. In the deepest recesses of his mouth, she tasted his distinct flavor and it was addicting. She couldn’t get enough of it. She was getting drunk. But like any alcoholic, she didn’t want to stop drinking.

  Her brain was whirling around dizzily in her head. She felt as if she was floating high above Hurricane Sabrina. The need to be back down on Earth, on solid ground, became desperate. A whimper sounded at the back of her throat and she broke the kiss.

  Donovan traced her flushed lips with the tip of his finger. “That man is an idiot,” he claimed. His voice was husky, his eyes a deep midnight purple.

  “Well, I agree with you.”

  Slowly, all of her senses returned, and she realized her skin was becoming numb beneath the icepack Donovan still held to her shoulder. The sensation was equivalent to a thousand icy needles pricking her skin. “Um…if you don’t take the icepack off my shoulder, I’m going to get frostbite.”

  “Oh.” He snatched his hand away and plopped the icepack on the coffee table. Then he bent forward and blew hot breath onto her numb bruise. His lips lightly touched her damaged flesh, like the wings of a butterfly.

  Her hands balled into fists from the heat of his breath and the burning in the pit of her stomach it ignited. His mouth moved over every inch of the large bruise, warming it breath by breath.

  Her heart was thudding against her chest as Hurricane Sabrina’s fists pounded on every window. She was sure Donovan could feel it vibrating in her shoulder blade, but she didn’t want him to know what he was doing to her.

  She lifted a balled hand, pressed it to his shoulder to push him back, and quickly stood up out of his reach. She moved to the window and touched the cold glass.

  Hurricane Sabrina was beating the board on the other side; she could feel the vibrations against her palm. The rain drumming on the roof sounded like rocks, not drops of water, and the wind was desperately trying to rip the house apart.

  She removed her hand from the glass. “I don’t think my house is going to survive Sabrina’s wrath.”

  “It might,” Donovan said.

  “I should’ve found some way to leave,” she whispered to herself, but not quiet enough.

  “If you had left, I would’ve died out there.”

  As you probably deserved, she thought but didn’t voice.

  Instead, she said, “This storm is going to last for hours, we should find some way to entertain ourselves.” Donovan’s eyes gleamed; she pretended not to know what he was thinking. “Do you like card games?”

  “Sure.”

  Beth brought out a deck of cards and they sat across from each other at the dining room table. They played every card game they knew. She taught him how to play Speed and he taught her how to play Gin Rummy. They laughed and teased each other, and she quickly forgot she was supposed to think he was a killer.

  An hour later, with Sabrina straddling the state of Florida, Beth and Donovan were in the middle of a heated poker game with a heap of jelly beans in the middle of the table. Beth pinched a red one between her thumb and index finger and popped it into her mouth.

  “That was a thousand dollars you just ate,” Donovan informed her.

  She smirked at him. “I can afford it.” Indeed she could, for she had a large pile of red jelly beans she had won with her last hand.

  “Yeah, well, I’m going to win them back,” he declared.

  She flicked her eyes at the three kings and two aces in her hand. “You can try,” she challenged.

  “All right, hot shot.” He shoved all of his candy into the pot. “I’m all in. What do you got?”

  She kept her hand close to her chest. “You first.”

  Donovan’s violet eyes bore into hers and she returned the stare. The whole house seemed to lean toward the center in anticipation. Even the ceiling dipped low to peek at their cards.

  A deep groan touched their ears and pulled their eyes to the ceiling above them. Time stalled as they listened to the creaking of the house and the monstrous moan of ninety mile-per-hour wind.

  Suddenly, a transparent claw ripped away a strip of ceiling, creating a gap that wind and rain invaded. Beth’s cards flew right out of her hands and the mountain of jelly beans scattered to the ground. Donovan shot to his feet. With one hand, he grabbed the battery-operated lantern. With the other, he grasped Beth’s hand and pulled her out of her chair. The wind ate away at the ceiling and followed them as they ran down the hallway.

  Donovan kicked open the bathroom door and yanked Beth inside. She hurried to the tub, stepped over the ledge, and sank into the deep porcelain ditch. The first ridiculous thought t
hat rushed through her terrified mind was “I should’ve grabbed some jelly beans.”

  He slammed the door in Sabrina’s face and locked it. After he set the lantern on the counter, he hunkered in the tub next to Beth. His arm automatically came around her, and fear had her nestling into the side of a relative stranger.

  The door trembled in its frame.

  On the other side, the sounds of banging and shattering was deafening as pictures crashed to the floor and items tumbled off furniture. Sabrina was ransacking Beth’s house.

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Beth said aloud.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “You may not be a murderer, but I am still going to die.”

  Donovan’s fingers snatched her chin and turned her to face him. “We are not going to die. I promise you!” He possessed her mouth with a soft fierceness that was as effective as a calm scolding. It took seconds for her lips to respond to his, and when they did, the kiss intensified.

  They touched tongues, molded lips, tasted, and enjoyed. Beth’s battered hands roamed up Donovan’s arms as his mouth moved to her neck. He gently slipped the strap of her shirt from her shoulder and his lips fluttered over her bruise, down her arm to the tattered heel of her palm.

  Her fingers grazed his swollen cheek. Then her hands cupped his face, and she brought her lips to the gash on his forehead. She planted kisses around the edge of the gauze, but her lips didn’t stop there. They continued to travel over his face, to his temple where his pulse beat like a drum in a rock song, over his bruised cheekbone, and then to his waiting mouth.

  He wrapped his arms around her, shifted her onto the bottom of the tub, and settled on top of her. “If I am going to die,” he told her. “Then I’m going to spend my last moments making love to you.”

  She peered into his eyes. She wanted the same thing, but it took a moment for her brain to understand her feelings and realize it too. She nodded consent as her hands slid over the defined plains of his back and grasped his wide shoulders.

  “I want—” She stopped when Donovan unzipped her jeans and slipped them off her hips. She bit her lip when he revealed her long legs and kissed the flowering bruises on her knees. Her body quivered as his hands caressed her pale, gold skin from ankle to hip. Then his fingers slithered beneath the lace that hugged her intimately.

  “What do you want?” He implored her to finish her thought.

  “I want my toes to curl one last time before I’m toes up in a coffin. I want my cry to be louder than the wind howling outside.” She looped her legs around his waist. “I want you.”

  They made love while Sabrina attacked the house like a scorned, jealous ex-wife out for revenge.

  ****

  Beth stirred awake to find herself lying in Donovan’s arms. She lay still, trying not to wake him. She could hear his breathing steady and deep, but she couldn’t hear Sabrina’s destructive exhales outside.

  Could it be over? she wondered with relief.

  Wanting to check it out herself, she peeled her body away from Donovan’s and stepped out of the tub. Being as quiet as she could, she slipped on her jeans and sneakers. She touched the doorknob tentatively, not wanting it to rattle, and eased the door open. Her shoes stepped into an inch of water on the other side of the threshold.

  She quietly closed the door behind her and stood motionless in the hall to make sure Donovan hadn’t heard her leave. When the door didn’t open to reveal his handsome face, she shuffled away, sloshing water with each step. Rain had fallen steadily through the damaged roof, soaking everything inside her house. She turned her head up to the tear that snaked across the ceiling, a sheet of gray clouds bandaged the sky.

  She made her way to the radio, turned the volume to low. The noise that came out of the speaker was full of grumbling static, but she was able to catch the words “eye” and “Florida” and concluded Sabrina’s eye was over them, watching the city like a hawk searching for prey.

  She switched off the radio then turned to the front door. If Donovan’s car was still intact, Sabrina would have fun rolling it up and down the road as soon as her giant eye passed over. She would destroy the car, but she would also ruin the journal. Beth couldn’t let that happen.

  She spared a glance at the bathroom then moved to the front door with water sloshing at her feet. When she tugged it open, branches fell into the doorway. She used her tattered hands to snap them in half and create a hole she could burrow through.

  Then she pushed her jean-clad leg into the prickly pine needles and shoved her way into the corpse of the fallen tree.

  Branches clawed at her, scratching her skin and grabbing her clothes. She squinted her eyes to protect them from the pine needles brushing her cheeks. As she fought through the tree, she didn’t see the branch in front of her before it dragged its jagged tip across her chest, slicing it open. She stifled a cry and nearly tripped on the wide tree trunk at the same time.

  Desperate to get out, she bulldozed through the thick greenery, gaining cuts up and down her arms, and stumbled out onto the concrete path. Her eyes widened at the sight she saw there.

  Rain had engulfed the road, transforming it into a river that lapped at the tops of the tires of Donovan’s car. Debris littered her front yard. Among the mess were roof shingles, broken branches, and a dented stop sign. The tall wooden fence that had surrounded her house was lying flat on the ground.

  “Shit,” she hissed and stared up into Sabrina’s giant eye. With a snarl, she hurried down the driveway. She didn’t even falter when she came to the standing water. She waded right into the stream. The water rose past her knees, making it hard to walk, but she pushed her limbs and reached Donovan’s car quickly.

  A second later, she was climbing through the same window she had crawled through before. In the passenger’s seat, she pulled on the handle to the glove compartment, but it didn’t open. She threw her head against the back of the seat.

  “How could I be so stupid?” She demanded of herself. “Keys. Where are the damn keys?” She distinctly remembered taking them out of the ignition and stuffing them into pocket of her jeans, the jeans she had taken off.

  “Real smart!”

  But wait! When she took off the wet jeans, the bundle of keys had fallen out and she had picked them up. She hadn’t wanted to give them to Donovan, so she hid them in the pocket of the jeans she was wearing. She didn’t recall hearing a rattling thud when Donovan threw her jeans out of the tub. She also didn’t remember feeling the lump inside the pocket when she put them back on.

  With a silent prayer, her hand pounced into her pocket. She dug into the cave of lint and unearthed a jingling key ring. “Oh thank goodness!” She fiddled with the keys, stuck a little silver one into the shiny lock, and with a sigh, opened the glove compartment. Angels could’ve started singing for right there, safe and sound, was a leather-bound journal.

  Looks like mine, she mused as she took it out.

  She stiffened when she saw what she uncovered. A gun. She swallowed hard as her chest tightened. She could think of two reasons why a person would have a gun. The first was for protection and the other was for murder.

  Without thinking twice, she grabbed the gun and clambered back out the window. She stood in the water a moment, staring at her house, and thinking about the man inside it who she had made love to moments ago.

  Knowing that curiosity killed, she turned to the trunk of the car. She couldn’t stop herself when she slipped the journal into the waist of her jeans and sprang onto the trunk. She shoved another key into the lock, wrenched it viciously, felt the trunk pop, and flung it open.

  The stench that wafted out was sickening. She stumbled back while covering her mouth and nose with her hands. Inside the trunk was a blue tarp smeared with blood and bundled within the thick plastic was a corpse.

  “Oh my God!” Her heart threatened to burst in her chest. She was horrified at what she saw. Her stomach rolled and vomit began to make its way up her esophagus.
/>
  “I didn’t want you to see that.”

  She whirled at the sound of Donovan’s deep voice. At the same time, she cocked the hammer on the gun and pointed the barrel at his chest. Her anxious finger nearly fired it.

  “Too late,” she told him.

  Donovan’s eyes dropped to the gun in her hands, which she handled expertly, then rose back up to her steady eyes. “So you still think I’m a killer, do you?” He nudged his chin at the weapon she held. “That gun isn’t loaded.”

  Her eyes flicked down to the gun. In one swift movement, she kicked out the cylinder. It was empty. She lowered the gun to her side, but kept a firm grasp on it, figuring it could still be used as a blunt-force object.

  “Why do you have a gun in your car that’s not loaded?”

  Donovan shrugged. “For insurance. A mugger wouldn’t know it’s not loaded. You didn’t even know it.” He indicated to the blue tarp. “And that is a dog.”

  “A dog?” She shifted away from the open trunk as if the thought of a dead dog was more gruesome than a dead person.

  “When I was cutting through a neighborhood, I hit a dog. I didn’t want to leave it there so I wrapped it up in the tarp. I planned to bury the poor thing in my backyard before the storm got too hectic, but then that tree got in my way.”

  “Yeah, blame everything on the tree,” she grumbled.

  “Actually, I’m thankful for that tree, because it brought you into my life.” Beth frowned at him. “You don’t believe me, do you?” She didn’t answer.

  Sighing, Donovan moved around her and lifted a corner of the blue tarp, revealing a golden tail and hind legs. After a second, he covered it again.

  She looked away, then met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No apology needed.”

  She handed him the gun, though, because she knew he did need an apology and she figured handing over the gun was as good of a sign of trust as any.

  He stuck the gun in the band of the basketball shorts, bringing Beth’s eyes to his lower abdomen. She tore her eyes away to look at the sky. The clouds were rolling in. “We probably don’t have much longer,” she said. “How fast can you dig a hole?”