He gave a growl of frustration when the back of the sofa got in the way of his attempt to remove her shirt completely. With a smile, she pushed him up, then stood and pulled her blouse off. With smile and a raised eyebrow, she reached for the quilt draped over the back of the sofa, and spread it over the carpet, and lay down on it.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze. After the first time, they lay panting, and he could have died right then and been happy. He might have dozed for a minute, but she shivered, waking him.
He rose on one elbow. “Are you cold?”
“Just a little.”
He got up and retrieved his other blanket from the closet. They snuggled beneath it with him spooning her, his arm bent, and her head rested on the angle of his elbow. He rested his cheek on her shoulder.
“Your chin is scratching me.”
“That’s because I didn’t shave this morning.”
“Bum.”
Mark chuckled. “Yeah, but if I’d have known you were going to come over and seduce me...”
“I didn’t seduce you!”
She glared at him over her shoulder, but broke into a grin when he quirked his mouth and said, “If you say so. I was just minding my own business.”
Jessie took a deep breath and stretched, her muscles protesting the hard floor beneath her. Mark still dozed, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped across his face, blocking out the bright sunlight. She curled against him and ran her hand up his belly, smoothed it over his warm skin, up over his ribcage. She scooted up to rest her head in the cradle of his shoulder, and turned her head, kissing his collarbone. He stirred, his arm falling to his side, but after a couple of deep breaths, he settled again.
She didn’t know how he could sleep so soundly. Her left hip ached from the pressure of the floor and if she didn’t get up soon, she’d be walking like a ninety-year old for a few days. Smiling, she nibbled a trail to the top of his shoulder. His skin smelled of soap, something clean and spring scented. She pressed into his side to kiss the side of his neck. Despite her complaint about his stubble, it looked sexy on him. The square jaw helped, she supposed.
She had never seen him this relaxed and took the moment to study his profile. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and thick. It wasn’t fair. His nose straight, cheekbones to die for, and she glanced down to his chest, with a ripped body to boot. Nope. Some things were just not fair. Not that she was complaining. Grazing her fingers over his chest, she snickered when he squirmed in his sleep. His eyes fluttered open. Green. Definitely more green than brown.
His mouth curved as he gave her a lazy grin. “Hey.” He arched his back, stretching. She swallowed at the play of muscles, enjoying the sight until he relaxed again with a contented sounding sigh, and turned to put his other arm over her.
“You okay?” He smoothed her hair back from her face, and she snuggled closer.
“I’m still hungry.” Jessie let her hand drift down his abdomen, feeling his stomach tighten in response.
The concern in his eyes evaporated and the corners crinkled into an eye smile. “I think I can take care of that.”
“Yeah? You think?”
“Absolutely.”
He nuzzled her neck, and when he reached her ear, she couldn’t take the exquisite torture anymore, and raised her shoulder, wriggling away with a gasp. “Aren’t we...we confident.” She tried to stifle another gasp he moved his hands down her body.
“Do you ever stop bickering?” His tone was playful and then his mouth moved lower, and Jessie did stop bickering.
Thirty minutes later, she pushed his shoulder. “Get up. This floor is killing me.”
Mark turned onto his stomach with a groan.
Sitting, she rolled her shoulders. “Hey, I really am hungry.”
Mark folded his arms, using them for a pillow, as he looked at her. “Yeah. I could use some food.” He smiled. “I guess our breakfast is cold and rubbery by now.”
Jessie stood, tugging the blanket off Mark to wrap it toga style around her. He didn’t seem to notice that he was lying naked. Or didn’t care. He watched her, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. Feeling shy, she lifted her chin and wrapped the blanket tighter. “What are you staring at?”
He just smiled and said, “You’re amazing, know that?”
A blush heated its way up her face and to cover her mixture of embarrassment and pleasure at his words, she nudged him in the ribs with her toe. “Get up, lazy bones. We’re going to get some lunch.”
He popped up from the floor as if a firecracker had exploded beneath him, the smile stretching into a grin. He grabbed his clothes and began getting dressed. “Sounds great. I’m starving.”
She had to laugh at his sudden change of demeanor, even as her face heated and she averted her eyes. “First, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Her clothes lay scattered, and after gathering them, she left the room. A few seconds later, she heard the coffee table slide back into place, followed shortly by the clatter of dishes in the sink.
After taking care of business, Jessie dressed and ran her fingers through her hair. Her clip was long gone, probably under the sofa by now. Mark had a comb sitting on the vanity, and she reached for it, but hesitated. After what they had just shared, she was sure he wouldn’t mind her using it, but she felt awkward. Should she ask first? What was he going to say? No?
After fixing her hair, she helped herself to his mouthwash. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She emerged to find him sitting on the sofa tying his shoes. He must have used the kitchen sink to freshen up because his hair was damp, like he’d run wet fingers through it.
“Ready to go?”
He stood. “Yeah.” In the space of time it had taken them to get ready, his air of playfulness had dissipated, and he skimmed a hand through his hair, leaving a few strands sticking straight up before they fell back into place.
Jessie noted that his nerves seemed to match hers. What was next for them? She saw that the camera was on the couch. She took a deep breath and pointed her chin towards it. “How about we take that along?”
His eyes widened. “I—I don’t think so.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not yet.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next few weeks were the best of Mark’s life. Every minute he and Jessie weren’t working, they spent together. Mark didn’t have a phone at his apartment, so Jessie began stopping by the camera shop on her lunch and they would make plans for the evening. More often than not, they ended up either at his apartment or hers. His sofa-bed wasn’t very accommodating, and the floor lost its charm after the first few times. Before long, he was spending most nights at her place.
One evening, Jessie lay on the couch, watching television, and he sat down, lifting her feet onto his lap. “I was wondering...would you mind if I used the second bathroom as a darkroom once in a while? It already has a vent to the outside, and I’d buy all the stuff, of course. I want to be prepared, in case...in case...”
“You thinking of using the camera again?”
He stroked a hand up her calf absently, and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Sure. I guess so.”
Mark nodded. “Thanks.” He felt the weight of her gaze and pretended not to notice. Just because he wanted a place to develop the pictures didn’t necessarily mean he was going to actually use it again. A commercial blared, and he reached for the remote and began flipping through the channels, not really paying attention to any that he stopped on.
“Have you thought about giving up your apartment?”
Mark paused in his channel surfing, surprised at the question. “And move in here?”
“It doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying on that apartment and half the time, you’re not there. Plus, well, the darkroom will be here.” She turned towards the TV and pulled her feet off his lap.
He cursed his stupidity. Here she was offering her home to him and he’d acted like the thought had never occurred to him. He’d embarrassed her. �
�Jessie.”
She blinked but kept her eyes riveted on the program.
“Jess...could you look at me?” He reached for her feet again, giving a toe a playful tweak.
Her face impassive, she turned her face to him. “Yeah?”
“I’d be honored.”
“Done with that?” When Jessie nodded, Mark added her plate to the armful of dirty dishes, and carried them to the sink. The dark room was finished, and he’d returned his keys to Bud, who had acted sorry to see him go. Mark had promised to call to go out for a beer now and then and he meant it. He’d learned his lesson about losing touch with friends. As he rinsed the plates, he looked over his shoulder. “I got a couple of photography jobs.”
“Really? That’s wonderful!” She beamed at him over the rim of her coffee cup.
He shrugged, but couldn’t quite smother the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They don’t pay much, but it’s a start. Gary suggested me when a woman came into the shop and mentioned looking for a photographer for a small wedding. “
“It’s a great start. Soon, you’ll be back to how you were before.”
Mark wrung out the sponge, giving it a harder than needed twist. “Yeah. Maybe.” Bending his head, he scrubbed the baking sheet. When would every mention of the past stop hurting?
A minute or so later, Jessie’s hand reached into the sink and caught his. “Mark. Stop. You’re going to ruin the finish on that.”
He blinked. “Sorry. There was some chicken stuck to it.”
She took the sponge out of his hand. “I’m sorry I said anything about the past, but we can’t keep tiptoeing around it.”
“Who asked you to?” Mark snatched the sponge and began wiping the counters. He heard her sigh, but ignored it. “You can talk all you want about the past. Hell, I can talk about it if you want.”
“Right.”
He glanced up at her skeptical tone. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. He flung the sponge into the sink. “What do you want to know?”
“What were the other inmates like?”
“I have no idea. I never saw any others.”
Surprise showed on her face and she dropped the tough stance. “Ever?”
“Nope. It was just me and the guards.” He grabbed the roll of paper towels, tore off a few and turned to dry the counters. “They weren’t too chatty.” His attempt at humor died as the remembered loneliness swept over him. “I saw a doctor occasionally, and a few times, a chaplain came by. He was nice.” Ducking his head, he used his thumbnail to scrape a drop of barbecue sauce off the counter. “And Jim and Bill, of course. Saw them more than I wanted to.” Lost in memories, he stopped scraping and stared at the slate gray stone beneath his hand.
“Mark, you don’t have to say any more. I’m sorry.” She’d lost the skeptical note.
He snapped back to the present and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” Wadding up the paper towels, he sought a change of subject, throwing out the first thing he could think of. “Getting back to photography, I was thinking of using my camera again. Just a few times.”
Jessie stopped in the act of filling the soap dispenser in the dishwasher and straightened, box still poised. “Your special camera? Seriously?”
Mark nodded, not sure when he had made the decision to use the camera again, but the feeling had been building ever since he’d held it, and now that he’d said it out-loud, a surge of excitement shot through him. “Not every day. I have to work, but I have a few days off a week. If something comes up, maybe I can make a difference.”
Mark slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Jessie. Today was the day. He stretched and rolled his shoulder, wincing as it popped. The dream to match the picture was still fresh in his mind. He’d wondered if the dreams would still come, but now he had his answer.
“Are you going?” Jessie scooted up in bed, the t-shirt she wore, one of his, slipping off her shoulder
He was tempted to say he hadn’t dreamed any details and return to bed. After hiding the magic of the camera for two years, and then being punished for using it, his first instinct was to deny what he was planning on doing. But this was Jessie. She knew all his secrets.
“I figured I’d go. It couldn’t hurt to at least see if I can change it.” There. He’d committed.
She held his gaze until Mark had to shift his focus. They’d discussed it, and he knew she’d support him if he put the camera down forever, but he knew she wanted him to use it if he could.
He grabbed his clothes out of a drawer, setting them next to the camera. The thrill of using it yesterday still simmered inside of him, and he picked it up, shivering at the hum of energy that coursed up his arms. It felt odd, but pleasant, like a warm tickle in his muscles.
Jessie caught his eye in the mirror. “You want me to go with?”
Mark had thought about asking her to go with him. He’d love nothing more than to have her along to push him to use it, but he had to know if he could do it on his own so he shook his head. “No. I gotta do it myself.” He set the camera down and rummaged for his socks.
The bedsprings creaked followed by the soft slap of Jessie’s feet on the hardwood floor. She hugged him from behind and planted a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You’ll be fine, but if you need anything, I’ll be here.”
He swallowed and his voice was rough when he said, “I know.”
An hour later, he trotted down the EL platform steps and headed west. His photos had shown a warehouse engulfed in flames, but even worse, in his dream, he’d seen two people trapped inside the building. Two blocks later, he turned north. The area teemed with warehouses, but the one he sought sported a faded red logo on the side. It might have been a cardinal at one time, but the elements had turned it into nothing more than a faint outline. It was still easy to spot and he tried the front door. Locked. Of course.
The dream had omitted a key piece of information—where the fire would start. Without that, Mark could only guess. He circled to the back, skirting around an overflowing Dumpster. Pot holes filled with stagnant water dotted the pavement, and he swore when he stepped in one and flooded his shoe. Shaking his foot, he approached the deserted loading dock. Where the hell was everyone?
“Hello?” Silence. Mark swung up onto the cement block. There had to be somebody around. At least the two who were in his dream should be somewhere about. The large door was closed, so he tried a smaller one beside it. It opened, and Mark chalked one up in his favor as he stepped into the dim interior. His earlier jitters settled into a low hum of energy. The cavernous room was empty except for broken boxes and trash littering the floor. His footsteps echoed and dust motes clogged the air as he crossed to a door on the far side of the room.
Smoke. More than just dust filled the air—some of it was smoke. Tendrils licked around the base of the door. He touched the wood. It was warm, but not hot. This door had been in the dream and he was sure he could open it without facing flames. Still, he cringed when he pushed it open.
He coughed at the first blast of heat and smoke. His eyes watered and he crouched as he went left.
“Hey! Anybody in here?”
“Help!”
The cry came from directly behind him, and Mark spun. “Where are you?”
“We’re stuck in here!”
The voice came from behind a heavy metal door. Mark tried the doorknob. “It’s locked!”
He scanned the hall for anything he could use to pry open the door.
“We hid in here when the watchman came by this morning, now we’re locked in. There’s a crowbar behind the door by the loading dock. Hurry!” Coughing punctuated the instructions.
Mark raced back the way he’d come, looked behind the door and found the tool. When he reached the door, a fit of coughing overtook him and he crouched for a few seconds, hoping the clearer air close to the floor would ease his breathing.
Straightening, he jammed the flat end between the door and the jamb and pushed. H
e groaned with the strain. The door wouldn’t budge.
Sweat ran into his eyes and he swiped his forearm across his forehead before bending to grab another lungful of air to try again. The latch broke with his second effort and he had to catch himself before he fell into the room.
The men rushed past him, and Mark staggered after them, but when they got outside, he didn’t stop to chat, he just handed one the crowbar and kept walking. His throat burned and getting a drink of water was his second priority. His first was to use the pay phone up the block and call in the fire.
As he hung up the phone, he broke into a grin. He’d done it. He was back. A quick stop in a mini-mart for a bottle of water, and then he was up the steps to the “L”. Fellow passengers wrinkled their noses at him as he walked through the car, but he didn’t care. His heart raced with excess adrenaline and his hands still shook. It was the best feeling in the world. He thought of Jessie and amended his thought. It was the second best feeling in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mark examined the latest photos in the dim red light. What the hell? He looked at the whole batch and swore as he made sense of the images. Bodies and...blood? Bodies of men, women and children, teens and senior citizens—people who’d probably just been celebrating only moments before the photos were snapped—lay sprawled where they fell.
A white flag with a blue ‘W’ curled into the corner of the photo. He recognized that flag. Wrigley Field. Bile burned the back of his throat. Instead of one or two pictures depicting a tragedy, five photos had developed. Every one of them showed the same scenes, the only difference was the gate number over the exit tunnel.
This was big. Mark’s hand shook as he hung the last photo to dry. How would he stop this? Who could do something so horrible? He shook his head. Stupid question. The real question was why?
[Mark Taylor 01.0] No Good Deed Page 23
