by M. Leighton
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
Her brows knit together. I know what she’s thinking. She’s thinking that a decent person would be devastated right now. “But . . .”
“But nothing. She’s gone. She’s dead. Nothing I do will bring her back. This part is over. Someone will pay a price for her death, but that has to wait. Right now, you’re more important. I need to get you out of here.”
She nods. “Okay.” She reaches for my hand, curling her fingers tightly around mine. This is who she is. She is the kind who gives comfort, the kind who shares in grief, the kind who gives of herself. The kind who will only be hurt by getting involved with someone like me. The best thing I can do for her once I get her to safety is to let her go. Because once I do, she’ll never be able to find me. I’ll be in the wind. A ghost. A nightmare best forgotten.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Muse
I catch myself glancing repeatedly at Jasper as he steers the car back to his cabin. He’s stoic. Calm. Eerily calm. He just saw his childhood home in fiery pieces scattered all over the place, probably along with his mother’s remains, and he’s acting as though everything is fine.
Well not fine, really. He seems in a hurry to get me away, but other than that, he’s quiet. No tears. No roaring like a lion, no howling like a coyote. No nothing. Just . . . calm.
When he rolls into his driveway, he slams the gearshift into park and turns to me, fierceness on his face. “Lock the doors. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
It’s not a request, nor does he pause to see if I agree to comply. He simply turns and crawls out of the car, knowing that I surely can’t be crazy enough not to do what he says.
And he’s right. I’m not. I’m just not as quick as he is.
I’m watching Jasper mount the steps in two long leaps when my door is wrenched open and a hand covers my mouth. I start to scream when something is jammed into my ribs. It’s cold and unyielding. Instinctively I know it’s a gun.
My heart is slamming around inside my chest, but I remain absolutely still.
“Scream and I’ll shoot you. Try to get away and I’ll shoot you.”
I listen to the words, which are alarming in and of themselves, but it’s the voice with which they’re spoken that I find most disturbing of all.
I roll my eyes to the right and get a glimpse of Matt’s face in the glow of the headlights reflecting off the side of the cabin.
He catches my wide eyes staring and grins in that half-cocked way that used to melt my heart. Right now it merely freezes it.
“Matt?” I mutter against his hand.
“It’s good to see you, too, little girl,” he says, using his old pet name for me. I’m sure it’s supposed to put me at ease, but it doesn’t. If anything, it puts me on guard.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Shhh,” he says, clamping his hand over my mouth again. “Come on. I’ll take you to your dad.”
“Dad’s here?”
“Yeah. We came for you. Now come on. And be quiet about it unless you want your bodyguard to get shot.”
My lungs tighten at just the suggestion of Jasper getting hurt. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m sure my father will explain it. And in the meantime, there’s no reason to risk Jasper getting shot over a misunderstanding just because he’s on high alert.
“Where is he?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“This way. Come on.”
Matt takes my hand and tugs me from the car. He doesn’t let go as he starts off around the front of the cabin, sticking to the edge of the trees where the darkness creeps in. He leads me down to the lake and to the dock, but I pull back before stepping on the first plank.
Matt tugs, but I resist. “Where is he, Matt?” I’m digging in my heels.
“We came by boat so no one would see us. Now shut up before you get somebody killed.” With a sharp jerk, he pulls me forward again, and this time I let him.
We walk all the way to the end of the dock and Matt urges me into Jasper’s little flat-bottom boat. He hops in after me and unties us. Tucking his gun into his waistband, my ex begins to row us away from the dock. When he gets to the middle of the cove, he stops.
My eyes have adjusted to the moonlight, which is full and bright tonight, allowing me to see the lake and Matt quite clearly. It’s the smile Matt is wearing that sends a shiver of apprehension skittering down my spine.
“Why did you stop?”
“I’m waiting.”
“For what? I thought you were taking me to Dad? Is he coming to get me here?”
Matt turns a dubious look on me. “God, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”
I stare at him for a few seconds, mouth agape, before anger kicks in. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Your father isn’t here. And he isn’t coming. But don’t worry. I’ll be sure to pay him a visit later.”
My blood runs cold, colder still when Matt produces his gun and aims it at me. “Matt, what are you doing?”
“I’m paying for my future, that’s what I’m doing.”
“And just how are you doing that by holding me at gunpoint in the middle of a lake? No one will pay you for me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, this is nothing as pedestrian as a kidnapping. God, Muse! Give me a little credit. Actually, this really has little to do with you at all. You’re more like a . . . a . . . bonus. Collateral damage, even. But no, this isn’t about you. It’s about Jasper King. He’s the one I’m after.”
My temper boils and I lash out with venom. “If Jasper is who you’re here for, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought, Matt.”
“We’ll see, but I think you’ve underestimated me. This is how I see it going down. When your daring rescuer realizes that you’re gone, he’ll come to find you. At that point, one of two things will happen. He will either stop there on the dock like the pussy that he is and I’ll shoot him where he stands or he’ll actually nut up and try to swim to you, in which case I’ll shoot him when he surfaces. Either way, his time is up. Tonight.”
My heart is beating so fast I feel nauseous. My chest burns with panic and my eyeballs feel as though they’re throbbing with a pulse all their own.
“But why? Why would you want to kill Jasper?”
“Money, Muse. It’s what makes the world go ’round.”
“Bu-but why would anyone want Jasper dead?”
I can only imagine that there are possibly hundreds of people who might want Jasper dead, but I’d rather keep Matt talking so I can think, think of a way to help Jasper. I cannot, simply cannot sit here and do nothing while he walks into a trap. If I have to watch him die . . .
My guts—my stomach, my intestines, all the muscles in my middle—squeeze painfully at the thought. I can’t let that happen. I can’t even begin to think of what the world would feel like now without Jasper in it. I don’t think I could bear to see the sun rise if I had to live with the knowledge (much less the image) of his death. I’d have no reason to get up, no reason to live.
I don’t even hesitate to confess in the privacy of my mind that I love Jasper. I think I fell for him when I first collided with those tiger eyes of his, shining so brightly down at me. Something in my soul knew I’d met the other part of me, the part I wouldn’t want to live without.
“I’d say there are a lot of people who would want him dead. And for a lot of reasons. Lucky for me, I don’t give a damn about any of that shit. I don’t really care who wants him and his cohorts dead. I just want the money that his death will bring me.”
“His cohorts?”
“Yes, his cohorts. Some special ops team your father commanded. Seems they’ve made some enemies on their own side. Guess that’s the risk you take when you do black ops for the government.”
“Black ops? Are you saying my father . . .”
“Killed people? Taught other men to kill people? Yes, Muse, that’s what I’m saying.” His sigh is exasperat
ed, like he’s talking to a child. “Ahhhh, sweet Muse. So clueless.”
Although it’s shocking to have it confirmed, I can’t say that I’m entirely surprised to hear this. My father has said some odd things over the years, and since meeting Jasper . . . well, I’m just not really surprised. If they knew each other in a work capacity and Jasper is a killer . . .
But I still believe they’re the good guys. It’s people like Matt and the traitor he’s working for who are a danger to the world, to the greater good.
“Does this have anything to do with the information Jasper wanted from my father?”
“How the hell should I know what that sadistic son of a bitch wants with the Colonel? Maybe he knows his team is being targeted. Maybe he thinks the Colonel is involved. Who knows? When I was approached about taking this once in a lifetime assignment, I didn’t ask many questions. These people aren’t big on divulging more than what’s absolutely necessary. I just took the assignment, hacked into the network the government uses to establish these kinds of covert missions for its operatives and then set up the hit. Jasper was going to help me with my job. He’d kill the Colonel and then I’d kill him.”
“How did you know Jasper would take it?”
“I know all about him. I’m in IT, remember? Information is my specialty, Muse. And Jasper King has a file a mile long. I know how good he is at his job, how seriously he takes his assignments. No matter what his feelings are for the Colonel, I knew he’d come for him. I am a little surprised that he’s let you live this long, though.”
Let me live? This long?
Thud, thud, thud. The beat of my heart is so heavy, I can’t be sure that Matt doesn’t hear it.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured that out yet.” Matt clucks his tongue and shakes his head in pity. “Poor Muse. Didn’t even know the man she’s been screwing plans to kill her. Wow, that’s gotta suck. But the hit was on you, too. I couldn’t be sure how much you knew, how much your father might’ve told you about what he was discovering. So I included you in the mission. Jasper was sent to kill you, too.”
He’s lying! He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying! I chant to myself, closing my eyes against the smug smirk on his face. I wish now that the moon wasn’t shining so brightly, that I couldn’t see so clearly. Without or within.
But that’s not the case. There’s no more hiding or pretending or not seeing anymore. All sorts of little things about Jasper are coming together to make perfect sense now—the reticence, the subtle sadness, the odd comments. The guilt—it all paints a perfect picture. I just couldn’t see it until now. I didn’t want to.
“Of course, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t catch on to King. I mean, damn! You haven’t even caught on to who your mom was and what dear old Dad did to her, and you’ve had years to figure that shit out.” While my brain is whirling and my heart is withering, I open my eyes and fix them on Matt, who shakes his head woefully. “You sure didn’t inherit the Colonel’s brains, did you?”
I feel like the boat is rocking, even though my eyes assure me that it’s not. My insides pitch and sway, rebelling in a visceral way against what Matt is insinuating. I want to ask questions, but part of me is stuck firmly in denial of what he’s saying, of everything he’s saying.
“I gotta give you credit for using that sweet little body of yours to hold him off, though. Far as I know, the guy’s never hesitated before.”
Never hesitated.
I will always think of you.
I pray to God that means something, something good. Something different. I pray to God that means Jasper never really planned on killing me. Or my father.
In the midst of the panic that’s threatening, in the midst of the devastation that’s setting in, an odd sense of comfort assails me. It’s sudden. And powerful. Like a hurricane force wind blowing through my insides. It’s fierce. Fiercely reassuring.
Jasper.
I know it as certainly as I know I’m sitting here with my ex. He’s close. He’s coming.
A part of me is always attuned to him on some level. It’s that part that draws my eye away from Matt and toward the dock. I see instantly that I wasn’t wrong. There, standing on the end of the pier, is Jasper.
The silvery moonlight bathes his tense shoulders in an eerie glow that leaves his face in the deepest of shadow. I’m sure it’s only my imagination, but I can almost see his eyes in the black of his face, a pale, haunting yellow in the darkness. He’s absolutely still, as though he might not even be breathing. I wonder if he even is as he stares out across the unforgiving lake to where I sit, a million miles away. Or might as well be.
“Right on time,” Matt mutters from beside me. “Come on out, King! I’ll give you a front row seat to the job you should’ve done days ago,” he yells.
Jasper says nothing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge that he even heard Matt. He just stands there, head bowed. Now I wonder if he’s even looking out at me. Or if he’s staring into the water. And, if he is, what he’s seeing.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Jasper
I’m frozen. Terrified. Torn. The water, the lake that has haunted me for seventeen years lies between me and the man who has Muse. I don’t have to guess that he means to do her harm. I don’t have to guess that he knows enough about me to know of my history with this place. I only have to act.
Therein lies the rub.
I’m calm. Surprisingly calm. My pulse is steady, my breathing is even. But those are just learned reactions. When real crisis strikes, I don’t panic. Just like I’m not panicking now. But something else is happening. Like the reverse of panic. Like I can’t process how to work this out and save Muse, so my body is just slowly giving up.
My heart is beating sluggishly, almost like it’s running down, like it’s forgetting how to work. My lungs are pulling in long, steady gulps of air. My eyes are clear and focused. So clear and focused, in fact, that it’s as though they can see below the inky surface. On the water, I don’t see a reflection of the moon above. I don’t see my face or my surroundings. But I see into it, beneath it. And I see my brother there.
He looks just as he did the day he died. His face is a pale oval and his lips are cold blue. His brown hair, just a few shades lighter than mine, floats around his head like an unnatural halo and his eyes . . . God, his eyes! They’re the only other reflection I see. But they don’t reflect me or the moon or the lake. No, they reflect the emptiness, the blackness that resides where my soul should be. They accuse me of living when he didn’t. They blame me for never fighting for him. They hate me escaping our childhood when he couldn’t.
I try to lift one leaden arm, to reach out toward him even though some part of my mind knows he isn’t there, but I can’t. It weighs too much. Just like it did that day long ago when Jeremy drifted away. Away from shore, away from me, away from life. I couldn’t move, couldn’t go back in and drag him out again. I just . . . couldn’t. Just like I can’t now.
My feet are surely cemented to the dock, my legs made of iron. The only things that are working are my vital organs and my thoughts. And damn those thoughts!
I close the eyes that play tricks on me, but what I see is no different. Still, hanging there in the water, is my brother. The vision is seared into my mind. It’s inescapable. My past, my life, who I am is inescapable. And if I can’t overcome it, there will always be more casualties of it. Of me. Of the monster.
Casualties.
Muse.
I open my eyes to the small boat bobbing in the cove. I can barely make out Muse’s face, but I can see enough of it to know something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. And not just because her life is in danger. It’s something else.
I see the flash of moonlight on a muzzle as her captor, a guy who looks a lot like the picture I saw of her ex, presses a pistol to her temple. Muse’s eyes widen, but she shows no other reaction. She just looks . . . shocked.
But
she’ll soon look dead if I don’t get to her. If I can’t get to her.
My heart rate speeds. My breathing becomes labored. A twitch starts in the fingers of my left hand, the hand that held so tight to my brother’s arm as I dragged him along behind me.
I have a choice to make, a choice with dire consequences one way or the other. I could drown trying to get to Muse. My muscles could seize, fall victim to the power of my mind. Or I could stand here and watch someone take her life. Take the life of the only person who’s been able to penetrate the thick scar tissue that surrounds my cold heart.
Or I could swim out and get her. I could save her. Like she’s been saving me, little by little, day by day.
“You’re a coward, King. I had hoped for better,” the guy calls across the lake to me. Then, before my sleeping limbs can wake, he turns his gun toward me and fires.
TWENTY-NINE
Muse
The gunshot is not what makes me scream. It’s the violent jerk of Jasper’s left shoulder followed by his headfirst tumble into the lake that rips the sound from my throat.
“Noooo!” I cry, standing up so quickly that the boat tips precariously toward the black water. “Jasperrrr!”
“Sit down!” Matt spits, yanking my arm and pulling me backward into the boat. “I’m not fishing your ass out of this lake in the middle of the night. I’d sooner leave you out here to drown, too.”
Matt picks up the oars and starts to row toward shore. I stare at him for a few seconds, my mind spinning and my heart breaking, before a desperate rage overwhelms me.
With a growl that I don’t even recognize as coming from me, I launch myself at him, fingers bent into claws that I plan to use to remove his eyes from their sockets.
“You bastard!”
I feel my nails sink deeply, satisfyingly into flesh when my fingers meet his face. I’m gratified by his yowl of pain, which acts as fuel to the wildfire burning in my gut. I lash and tear, scrape and scratch, kick and punch at every surface I can reach. Skin, clothing, hair. I’m a flurry of uncoordinated arms and legs, but all with the same goal—hurt, maim, cripple. Destroy Matt.
