The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix)

by Kristie Cook

  He drove a knee into my back, dug his fingers into my forehead from behind and yanked my head backward. He crouched over me, twisting my head back and forth as he seemed to be looking for something on my face or neck. When he didn’t find whatever it was he sought, his head twisted, as if trying to get a better look at my shoulders and arms. Something grazed down my spine, feeling almost like a tickle, and then my shirt fell away from my shoulder blades. He shifted his knee from my middle-back to my ass and sat there for a long moment. Then he sucker-punched me in the kidney before springing to his feet and yanking me up to my knees by my neck.

  My muscles tightened as I prepared to do a backwards head-butt into his groin, but I froze at the sight in front of me. The other fucker had Leni by the back of her neck, the point of a knife skimming down her bare arm. She wore sweats cut into short-shorts and a thin top with only strings over the shoulders, what the female models had called a cami. Her eyes caught mine, then darted away, down to my right. My gaze followed hers to a shotgun halfway under the camper. She must have heard the ruckus we’d created and come out to stop us, but was easily overtaken. Foolish girl.

  Her captor seemed to have the same fascination with her head as mine. He moved his hand from her neck and dug his fingers into her curls, grabbing a fistful close to the crown of her head. He jerked her head side to side and pulled it back, also searching for something. Also not finding it. My muscles bunched, prepared to fight again, as he moved the knife to one of the cami’s strings and flicked it in half. The front fell loose, exposing the top curve of her boob. An angry fire burst within me.

  Before I could move, a white blur shot through the air and landed on the douche’s head.

  He immediately released Leni, his hands flying to the cat, but its claws attached to his head and face. I didn’t waste the opportunity. Using the strength of my whole upper body, I threw myself backwards and my head slammed into my captor’s gut. I used the momentum to get my feet underneath me, then jumped upwards. Pain shot through the top of my head as it met his chin. I spun, ready to throw a punch, but his body was already sagging to the ground.

  I turned back to the other guy, who still fought the cat on his head. Long tears ran through his hood where the feline had clawed him. I didn’t particularly like cats, but this one rocked. While the white ball of fur distracted the guy with another claw across the chin, I punched him in the ribs. As if the cat knew I had this, it sprang from the guy’s head and out of sight.

  The asshole fought back, apparently skilled in martial arts, but not fast enough or strong enough to take me down. But he still remained a tough opponent. My breaths came harder as we continued trading punches and kicks. Then, with a good shove from his shoulder, I stumbled backwards and right into the other guy’s arms. He’d apparently regained consciousness. The first guy lifted his fist to aim for my face, and I felt a blow, but not from either of my assailants. They both suddenly froze. I didn’t understand for a long moment, until the smell of burnt gunpowder filled my nose. In a heartbeat, the two men were gone.

  I turned toward Leni as she lowered the shotgun’s barrel from pointing straight up into the air to pointing at me. My chest and shoulders heaved as I panted, and I didn’t think my heart could race any faster, but the gun pushed it a little more. “Put the gun down,” I finally signed. “They’re gone.”

  She shook her head violently, but the barrel remained trained on my chest.

  “What are you doing, Leni?”

  “Did you bring them here?” her lips demanded.

  “No! What are you talking about?”

  “Then how did they find us?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure it was random. Some thugs looking to rob us.”

  “No. They came after me, Jeric. Me. They basically said as much. And you weren’t here when they did. You disappear into the darkness, and they suddenly show up. What do you expect me to think? Has this all been some crazy set up? What do you want from me?”

  “I want answers, just like you do. But this isn’t me. If I’d wanted to hurt you, I’ve had all kinds of chances. You know I could take that gun away from you right now if I wanted to.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” she said, but then she lowered it to her side.

  I took a step toward her, my hand reached out for her, and the gun was back up, pointed at my chest again.

  “You’re bleeding,” I signed.

  I hated that she was hurt. I hated those guys for making her bleed. I hated myself for leaving her alone in the first place. But more than anything, I only wanted to make her better, to hold her and tell her I would make everything okay again. I didn’t know if and how I could keep such a promise, but I would die trying.

  Her stormy eyes softened as she watched me, then her face crumpled, and the shotgun fell to the ground. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she wrapped her arms around herself, but that didn’t stop her from shaking like a leaf. I stepped forward once more and pulled her into my arms. Trying to ignore but also enjoying the way my body reacted to her, I held her tightly against me and pressed my cheek against the top of her head. The fruity scent of her shampoo made my head swim. She eventually stopped shaking and stepped out of my hold. My heart jumped when I saw the blood smeared on her top.

  “I’m going to get some towels and ice,” she signed. “You’re bleeding, too.”

  I looked down at my bare chest and found a couple of shallow cuts. Nothing serious. At least a ring hadn’t been torn out. Now that would have been some real pain. I was fine, more worried about her. Leni dialed her phone on her way inside, probably calling the police. I sat on one of the folding chairs to wait, and the white cat jumped into my lap and curled up.

  “Best cat ever,” I signed to Leni when she came back out. I took a towel and a bag of ice from her.

  She sat in the chair next to me, only a plastic table between us. One plastic table too many, as far as I was concerned, but I wouldn’t push it with her. The cat jumped off my lap and brushed against her legs when I leaned over and pressed the cloth to the cut on her head. An ugly little bump was already rising, a murderous rage rising within me along with it.

  “So you have no idea what that was about?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “They were looking for something, but I don’t know what. One kept saying, ‘It’s gotta be inside. We gotta get in there.’ Whatever they wanted, though, I wasn’t about to let them in my camper.”

  Before we could discuss it more, red and blue lights flashed across her face. The police had arrived . . . and did little, as I’d expected, except take our reports and say they’d keep an eye out for the white van. I had a feeling they’d never find it.

  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” Leni asked after the cops had left, and we were seated in the folding chairs again.

  “It’s a long story. You sure you’re up for it?”

  She watched her finger pick at something invisible on her shirt before she looked back up at me. “I have to be, don’t I? We’re both involved in this crazy shit. We should probably learn as much about each other as possible. Don’t you think?”

  Getting her meaning, I glanced over at the picnic table for the book. It was gone. I sprang to my feet. I’d wanted to burn the thing an hour ago, but that would be stupid. We needed it—hopefully it held answers for us—and we definitely didn’t need it falling into the wrong hands.

  “Relax,” Leni signed. “I put it away as soon as you left. I didn’t want to be tempted to read ahead.” Her eyes widened. “You think it was the book they were looking for? They kept talking about the brand, too.”

  My brows lifted. “The brand?”

  She tapped her finger on her bracelets that hung together like a band, hiding the flame on her arm. Did she ever take them off?

  “These?” she asked.

  “But they were se
arching our heads and necks.”

  “One said, ‘It’s always on the torso.’ He thought maybe we weren’t the ones they were looking for.”

  “Then maybe we’re not. Maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us really believing it.

  Then Leni nodded and put on her fake grin. “Yeah. We’re probably just being paranoid, with everything going on. So you going to tell me your long story or what?”

  Before taking my seat again, I stepped inside to my bag and fished out my half-full bottle of whiskey. This could be a long night, and I needed something to take the edge off. I easily found two cups in the kitchenette, brought it all outside and set them on the table between us. Leni shook her head, but I poured her some anyway in case she changed her mind, which could be very likely. I picked up my own glass and threw the liquid to the back of my throat.

  “So, I wasn’t always deaf,” I began, and Leni nodded because I’d told her this already. “When I was fourteen, I had an awesome life. I was the lead singer and guitarist in a band, and we were pretty damn good. Everyone thought we were so cool, coming to our gigs at local bars and everything. School was no problem for me—was easy, even the advanced classes—and teachers loved me. Life was good. Perfect. Then there was the accident, and I woke up from a coma with no family and no hearing.”

  Leni interrupted me. “Wait—you can sing?”

  I gave her a sad smile. “I used to.”

  The smile she returned was as sad as mine. “It must be horrible to lose that.”

  “You have no idea.” Hell if I didn’t miss singing and music more than anything else, even more than hearing girls scream my name at the shows. Except for one girl . . . I scrubbed my hand over my face, then continued. “So when I finally got to go to school—I was held back a year because I’d missed so much—I wasn’t so cool anymore. The rumor mill kicked up and for some, I was the poor orphan who lost his family, and others blamed me. Nobody knew how to act around me. My ex-band mates, my best friends, became the biggest dicks, and I went from being the cool kid to being a loner and the weird deaf guy. My home life sucked, and kids picked on me all the time. I tried to fight back, but I’d always been a music geek, not an athlete. I got my ass kicked I don’t know how many times.”

  “Why didn’t you just run from them?”

  I gave her a look. “I. Don’t. Run. But I did get tired of the bruises and the nosebleeds, and my grandparents calling the bullies’ parents and embarrassing me even more. Their parents never did a damn thing except fuel the fire. So I decided to do something about it.” I took another swallow of whiskey before continuing. “I began lifting weights, bulking up and learning how to fight. I got pretty good at it, to the point where parents were now calling my house to whine about how I’d broken their kid’s arm or nose. So my grandparents took me on a Sunday drive in the country, where we conveniently ended up at the state’s deaf school. My grandparents said being around people like me would help, but they were trying to get rid of me, the reminder of all they’d lost. They dropped me off and never came back.”

  I poured more of the amber liquid into my cup and took another drink. “I didn’t belong there, either. I’d been taught Signed English after losing my hearing, which had been hard enough. The school wanted me to learn ASL, but I refused. The kids and teachers never did accept me.”

  “I thought the deaf community was close-knit and very accepting, though.”

  “Close-knit, yes. Accepting, no. Not when you don’t want to be like them. Hell, I was 17 by then, pissed off at life and the world because I’d lost everything. But most of them didn’t see deafness as a loss because they’d never had hearing to begin with. They didn’t understand me, and I didn’t want to understand them. I just wanted out of there. As soon as I could leave on my own, I did. Street fighting—kind of like that movie Fight Club?—was how I supported myself for a while, then I got involved with MMA and the UFC.”

  Leni looked at me for a long moment, and I was glad to see no pity in her eyes. Empathy maybe, but not pathetic pity. She reached for her cup and took a swig, then kindly moved the conversation along without harping on the painful parts. This. This was what I liked about her. This was what made her different than other girls who’d be all teary and “poor baby this and poor baby that.” She was so laid back, accepting and non-judgmental. This was why I told her when I’d never told anyone the full story.

  “Do you still fight?”

  I shook my head. “The further I went in the UFC, the harder the poundings and the less fun it was. And there’s no purpose except for bragging rights. Not the same as defending yourself or someone else who can’t.” I shrugged. “Something else with a lot better money and much less pain came along, so I took it.”

  “Modeling?” she asked.

  I peered at her knowing smile. “How’d you find out?”

  “I saw an ad in a French magazine on the plane the same day I first met you.”

  “Must have been an old magazine. I haven’t modeled in over a year.”

  “And it happened to be in the hands of the lady sitting next to me. Isn’t that a . . . coincidence?” She rolled her eyes as she signed the word. “So what have you been doing for the last year?”

  “When I had enough money put aside, I began the search for my mother.”

  “But . . . I thought your mother died?” She lifted her eyebrows with the question.

  I tried not to cringe and fought the urge to change the subject as I normally would do. Leni was right—we needed to get the truth out there. “My adopted mother and father died in the accident. That’s why it was so easy for her parents to blame me and then forget I ever existed. I don’t think they ever truly accepted me as one of their own. Especially my grandfather.”

  She reached out and placed a hand over mine.

  “I’m sorry, Jeric,” she mouthed, and she had no idea what that meant to me. It wasn’t the pitiful, poor-baby kind of look she gave me or an insincere touch to get my attention. She was genuinely sorry I was the toilet life shit in. Nobody had ever given a damn about me before. Not like this.

  I about drowned in the sea of her eyes again, but then she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and now all I could think about was kissing her. I wanted to suck on that lip myself. Know what she tasted like, every bit of her.

  Her hand retreated to her lap. “Your birth mother?”

  I told her about how my grandmother had kept in touch with me as long as her husband didn’t find out she was aiding and abetting the delinquent who had killed his daughter. I’d thought at first leaving me at the deaf school had been her idea, but then she’d sent me a birthday card and another at Christmas, each of them containing a little cash. Not much, but every bit helped. When I got out of the deaf school, she wouldn’t let me come see her, but she’d give me little hints about the adoption. Maybe she thought if I went looking for my birth mother, I’d leave them alone.

  Her little clues had planted a seed that grew into an obsession. I honestly didn’t understand why I was so determined to find my biological mother. She gave me up. Why would I possibly want to know her? But something inside me told me I needed to do this, so I did. I went up to New England, to California and Louisiana, even to Alaska, and I was about to give in and come here, had even posted about it on Facebook for the few people who cared. Then I got an email advertising trips to Italy, and I remembered Grams once mentioning something about the Italian countryside. And I knew I had to go.

  I paused to take another drink while thinking about how to explain to Leni this intense pull I’d been feeling all of this time without sounding like a damn lunatic who needed to be locked up. A sudden realization caught my breath and nearly choked me. Oh, shit. The draw hadn’t been to my mother after all. I hadn’t been “feeling” her only to reach dead end after dead en
d. I’d thought my gut had failed me, but it hadn’t. All this time, it had been leading me to Leni.

  And that was all sorts of fucked up.

  Chapter 14

  THUNK . . . THUNK . . . THUNK . . .

  The sound of wood chopping greeted me as I opened my eyes to a gray light filtering through the blue and green tie-dyed curtains of my camper’s bedroom. My groggy mind refused to clear as the thud, long pause, thud, long pause, thud, played in the background, and my heart felt thick and heavy in my chest. My life had completely changed yesterday. Well, it had started before then, of course, but yesterday it really spun topsy-turvy and flipped over a few times, landing upside-down.

  I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Everything I’d ever known and understood had been destroyed, and new ideas, thoughts, and beliefs took their places. I would have never brought a guy I’d only known a couple of days to the isolated camper with me in that past life, but here he was, outside chopping wood. I hadn’t been able to watch him go when he left the Denny’s yesterday morning, feeling what Jacey had when Micah had left her after their trip to the lumberyard. Like a piece of me had gone with him. I’d chased after him, and as bad as it sounds, had been secretly glad when I saw his car going up in smoke. Jeric and I had a connection that went deeper than I could possibly understand.