Unabridged

by Melinda De Ross

  “How’s Rat?” I asked, covering a yawn with my palm.

  “Oh, he’s fine. I’m trying to make him understand that he’s not allowed to sharpen his claws on the couch, but he ignores me.”

  I laughed.

  “He’s still young, he’ll learn. Shall I send Blade to pick you up around five?”

  “No, don’t bother. I’ll find my way to your home. See you then. Love you, baby.”

  “Love you too.”

  When I put the phone on the nightstand, Blade arrived. He was freshly shaven and looked more rested. His eyes didn’t have those heavy, haunted clouds darkening their depths as they had yesterday.

  “Ready to go home?” he asked and I pursed my lips for his kiss.

  “More than.” I got to my feet. “Let’s get the hell outta here!”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” I told him as he took my bags and I threw one last glance around the room to check if I’d forgotten anything. “The Doc says I’ll be as good as new in a couple more days,” I exaggerated a bit.

  Since I had all of my release paperwork ready, we left without a single backward glance. I was still in my pajamas, but Blade’s car was parked nearby. I got in and turned on the radio. I wasn’t yet up to loud noises, but the silence in that hospital cell had nearly driven me crazy.

  After putting my bags in the trunk, Blade climbed in and we drove off. The sun was blazing and I was a tad alarmed to feel my pupils shrink drastically. The doctor had warned me I might experience a slight photophobia, but he assured me it was just a temporary side effect of the concussion I’d suffered. Blade lent me his sunglasses, which made me feel considerably better. I looked in the rearview mirror and started laughing. What a picture I made, with my pale, makeupless face, the white bandage partially hidden under my unwashed hair, the blue pajamas with yellow puppies on them and a pair of Dolce&Gabbana sunglasses resting on my nose. Not to mention the exquisitely expensive diamond ring on my left hand.

  Blade started laughing too when I pointed out to him the most hilarious aspects of my appearance. On this note of amusement, we arrived at our condo. Being home again after two miserable nights in the hospital was like dying and going to heaven. I stripped off all of my clothes right in the foyer and, buck-naked, went to the bathroom to throw them into the washing machine. I returned to unpack the rest of my things and subjected them to the same treatment, while Blade’s amused—and if I wasn’t mistaken, lustful—gaze followed me as I strolled through the apartment, naked as a jay bird except for the bandage on my temple.

  “What are you doing?” he asked puzzled, coming behind me and caressing my bare ass, as I was loading up the washing machine to its full capacity.

  “Disinfecting. All of my stuff stinks like hospital, including me. I don’t care what the doctor says, but I’m taking a shower and washing my hair as well.”

  “No you won’t. Do you want to pop your stitches?” he asked, exasperated with my lack of obedience. “You can wait at least two more days. Be sensible, for God’s sake!”

  “I’ll be very careful. I can’t stand it anymore, Blade. Please, understand,” I pleaded, looking imploringly into his eyes.

  He stared at me frowning for a few moments, then relented.

  “Okay,” he consented. “But I’ll wash your hair.”

  He stripped down to a pair of black boxers and we got into the bathroom. Concussion or not, I turned to jelly when I looked at him. A couple of nights without him hadn’t been easy to manage. I’d missed him terribly, not only sexually, but just his presence, his strong, protective arms around me.

  I turned on the shower spray, then slipped into his arms, embracing him hard, burying my face into his shoulder.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I said, feeling the tears stinging my eyes.

  “I know. I’ve missed you too, Angelina.”

  He held me tight against him, massaging the back of my neck with strong fingers, as he pressed my face into his chest. His body reacted to my presence and I felt the hard pressure of him against my middle. I lifted my eyes to look at him, sending a silent question just through visual contact. He shook his head firmly and drew me away from him.

  “No. We won’t make love until you’re fully recovered. That’s my final word, woman,” he said, bursting into laughter when I narrowed my eyes and darted him a drop-dead look. “Come on, get your ass in there.”

  He pushed me under the hot jet and moved in next to me. He still had his boxers on, but the wet patch of fabric did nothing to hide the length and strength of his desire. All it did was to inflame my imagination and ignite my senses. Swallowing hard, I sighed wistfully and reached for the soap. It could wait, I told myself. For now, we had unfinished business that needed to be confronted. I had to face the woman who’d tried to kill me.

  Blade washed my hair gingerly as I stood, compliant and obliging, happy that I’d gotten my way. After scrubbing myself two times to destroy any trace of hospital smell and hospital germs, I got out of the bathroom pink as a baby. Blade washed and dried quickly, then came into the bedroom and proceeded to dry my hair. I was amazed that a man—let alone a man like him—had so much patience that he would do this task for me. I guessed that was only one of the small proofs of his love. I was overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion to me, and told him so.

  He smiled, turning off the hair drier.

  “Patience may not be a man’s finest point, but it’s an infinitely small price to pay for your comfort. I would give my life for you, Angelina, and you’re amazed because I’m drying your hair?”

  I laughed shakily, letting my head rest on his lap.

  “Thank you. I truly am the luckiest woman on Earth, and I’m glad I can appreciate that now.”

  We sat like that for a while, each lost in our own thoughts. I suppose I was gathering my strength for what was to come. After several minutes I straightened myself up, mindful not to rise too fast.

  “Are you ready to take me to see her?”

  “Are you?” he replied emphatically, looking into my eyes.

  I nodded slowly before I stood up. First, I went to my vanity and took two of the analgesics the doctor had prescribed. Then I went to the closet and put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

  I looked in the mirror. Though pale and shaky, my reflection stared back at me with hard set determination. I wondered what Allison would see when she looked at me. What would I see when I looked at her? Only one way to find out.

  The police station was quiet. Blade guided me through the network of corridors to a small office.

  “Wait here for a moment,” he told me, then knocked and entered. I stood waiting for him, wondering if he would have to bribe someone to let us see Allison. After a few brief minutes, he came out followed by a big black man. He was fortyish, with a boxer-like appearance, dressed in worn out black jeans and a black T-shirt, which revealed arms as thick as tree trunks.

  “This is Detective Johnson,” Blade made the introductions. “My fiancée, Angelina Jameson.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Jameson,” the giant said in a deep, strong voice, enveloping my hand in his huge palm. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  “Mister Spencer tells me you want to visit Miss Conwell.”

  When I nodded, he stared at me with implacable black eyes. He said, “Usually, only relatives are permitted to visit the people who are detained. But I understand why you want to see her. Follow me.”

  He led us to a corridor lined on both sides with two rows of cells. I felt disconcerted walking among those cages with their solid bars, beyond which I knew resided violence, evil and madness. A shiver ran down my spine as we passed through the small spaces divided by thin walls. Some of them were empty, and I could tell there had been no repainting done in a while. One inventive tenant—obviously a wannabe Shakespeare—had even scribbled some verses on the walls in bloody-red spray paint, but repeatedly left the c out of thy cok.
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  Hostile glares shot toward us from the occupied cells. The faces watching us as we passed made me shudder. Not because they were all sinister, as one would expect from a delinquent, but because some of them wore the mask of deceiving innocence. They looked like ordinary people, but only God knew how many of them had their hands stained with blood.

  I actually startled when Johnson stopped in front of one cell and turned to us, saying shortly, “You have five minutes.”

  Then he spun around and walked away, leaving Blade and me to face Allison Conwell.

  She sat hunched on the small bed, with her knees to her chest and her face on her forearms. Her dark-blonde hair hung lifelessly over her back and shoulders. She was dressed in a wrinkled white shirt and white trousers. She lifted her head slowly and I got to take my first look at the woman who wanted to kill me, and who had provoked so much pain to the man I loved.

  She had green eyes like mine, but hers were rounder. They widened when she saw us and the hard look in them was sharper than the edge of a knife.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, springing to her feet.

  “We came to make sure that you’re going to pay for what you did,” I said calmly, staring right back into her eyes, which were sparkling with pure hatred.

  “You fucking bitch! You should be dead!” she shouted, pointing a finger at me, but jerked back with a yelp when Blade’s fist clenched hard around one thick bar and he cursed her viciously.

  I laid a hand on his arm to quiet him, then addressed the woman again.

  “Why did you try to kill me? What did you think you’d gain with that? You really hoped to get Blade back?”

  Her laugh was short and derisive.

  “Blade? I never wanted Blade, anymore than he wanted me. He was a wreck after you left him. The only interesting thing he had left was money, and I would have made great use of that if he hadn’t divorced me.”

  I was surprised he had told her about me, but kept quiet and let her talk.

  She continued, “I knew how scrupulous he was and I played him to my heart’s content with that story about a kid. My only mistake was to talk about it that one time, but it was enough. I got a good divorce settlement though, and maybe in time I could have gotten close to him again, if I played my cards right. Even though he didn’t love me, he had some great moves in the sack,” she mused, then her eyes narrowed and focused on me. “But then you showed up and fucked up all my plans. Mister Spencer here was so freaking happy it made me want to puke. Oh, yes, after that time when you put on that act over the telephone, I followed you. I found out everything about you. I guess I can’t blame you for digging your claws into him, considering you were so poor as a kid you and your mom didn’t have a pot to piss in. But business is business.” She shrugged. “I had to get you out of the way. And when Blade was to be desperate and desolated, who better to console him than his supportive ex-wife?”

  I shook my head in disbelief. The woman couldn’t be right in the head, no matter what the psychiatrist said.

  “So it wasn’t anything personal? You tried to kill me only on the off chance that one day you might get Blade back?”

  “Nope, nothing personal. You mean nothing to me, other than an insignificant obstacle,” she emphasized.

  “Funny that you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison for something so insignificant,” I said coldly.

  “I’ll be out in a few months.” She sneered. “And we’ll see who’s going to laugh then.”

  I moved toward her so fast that she took a hasty step back, as I grasped the steel bars hard and pinned her with my eyes. I could feel the hate blazing in them so strong that I was sure I could instantly turn the other woman into a pile of ashes.

  “Listen to me, you bitch,” I said through my teeth. “You’re going to rot in jail, caged like the bloody insane creature you are. You never had a chance with Blade, and you knew it. That’s why you could only approach him through lies and deceit. Now you’re going to live the rest of your miserable life between walls and bars, while we are going to enjoy every minute with each other. You’re nothing but a nasty episode in our life. You’re done. Over.”

  I turned my back on her. Blade, who had remained silent during the exchange, followed me, but not before saying to Allison, “Don’t forget that if you ever get out of here, I’ll be waiting for you. And I’ll get retribution.”

  The deliberate tone in which he stated it made my blood run cold, and I could bet the woman in the cell was chilled to the bone by the menace of his promise. I didn’t bother to turn and look though. I just clasped Blade’s hand and walked away.

  Twenty-Two

  Blade and I made a tacit agreement not to speak of Allison. She would have loved to be present between us, even as a shadow, but she didn’t deserve that satisfaction. We were too busy anyway to dwell on it. As soon as we got home, Mom called to ask if she could come visit. Both Blade and I were glad of her company, especially since she brought Rat. I missed the kitten tremendously and didn’t part with him for a second during the entire evening. Blade and I decided not to tell Mom about the Allison episode. That would only have worried her and wouldn’t have resolved anything. The matter was closed. We would discuss it only in the terms of the investigation and trial, which Blade promised would follow closely and make sure justice would be served.

  Mom offered to cook dinner and I gladly accepted. I wanted to help, but after I showed her around the kitchen, she shooed me out the door and got to work, saying she didn’t want me oops-ing around. So Blade and I lazed on the couch, arguing for Rat’s cattish attention and watching TV until the meal was ready.

  I set the table in the dining room and we all sat down to enjoy Mom’s special steak with mashed potatoes. The meat was perfectly done, soft and spicy, and the tomato salad that accompanied it was delicious.

  As we ate, Mom asked, “Did they catch the man who hit you with the car?”

  Blade and I exchanged looks. I said, “Um, yes they did. It was just a drunk driver.”

  “Just a drunk driver?” Mom said in outrage. “And you say it so lightly? I hope the rotten scum is in jail.”

  “He is, and he’ll stay there for a long time, Mrs. Jameson,” Blade said between bites. “So we can all put this incident out of our minds. Thank God nothing worse happened.”

  “You’re right, darling,” Mom agreed on a long breath. “And stop Mistress-ing me, call me Mom. You’re my son-in-law-to-be, aren’t you?” she added, smiling warmly at him.

  “I sure am... Mom,” he said, smiling back.

  I looked fondly at both of them, overwhelmed with love for my family, and with the simple joy of having them close around me. I understood how a mother hen must feel. I glanced down at the chair next to me, where Rat sat impatiently staring right into my mouth at each bite I took. I slipped him another small piece of steak and he grabbed it, bolting with it under the table.

  “You should come cook us dinner every night, Mom,” I said around a mouth full of tomato salad. I said it as a joke, so I was surprised to see my mother blushing. I stared at her suspiciously as she got redder and redder, fussing with the pendant chain she wore around her neck.

  “What’s up?” I stretched the words, slanting my eyes toward her. “Why are you blushing? Don’t tell me you have someone else to cook for.”

  Blade had stopped eating and was watching her too, obviously amused.

  “W-well,” she stammered, “I... Uh, I got invited to dinner tomorrow evening.”

  “What?” I asked, above Blade’s whistle. “Wait. Who invited you?”

  “My boss, Mister Mason,” she said demurely, her eyes on her plate. “Remember I told you about him? He’s a fifty-year old widower, very nice man, extremely well read and with a taste for art. He suggested we go out for dinner to discuss some paintings he wants to acquire.”

  My left eyebrow was close to disappearing under the bandage.

  “Paintings, huh? Is that what they call it these days? Well
, well, shallow waters run deep, eh, Mom?”

  She went scarlet with embarrassment.

  “Cut it out, Angie,” Blade came to her rescue. “I think it’s a great idea, Mrs.— I mean Mom,” he corrected, grinning sheepishly. “It will do you good to go out, see new people. We don’t want you to get lonely.”

  “Oh, I doubt she’ll get lonely. She’s growing up on us, babe,” I said to him, then smiled disarmingly. “Blade’s right, Mom. I’m delighted you decided to go out with this man. Live a little, have some fun!”

  She looked relieved that we agreed and gave us a brilliant smile, then we all buried our noses back in our plates.

  It was past ten p.m. when Blade saw Mom to her car, not wanting her and Rat to walk in the dark. I was waiting for him in the bedroom, rubbing cream into my skin. I’d put on a new black, lacy negligee with the sole purpose of seduction in mind. I was tired and my head hurt a bit, but more than anything I needed Blade. I wanted him to hold me, to love me and kiss away all the horrors of the past days.

  I lit a few candles, then got into bed just before Blade came in. He stopped short at the scene awaiting him. His gaze wandered around the room slowly, then focused on me. I knew that every inch of my skin was visible through the thin lace. As he stared at me longingly, I could feel his desire and yearning from across the room.

  “Please, don’t say anything,” I pleaded before he could formulate a protest or any other remarks regarding my state of health. “Just come here and hold me.”

  He took off his shoes, slipped the T-shirt over his head and started unfastening his jeans. His skin looked like liquid caramel in the candlelight, and the smooth movements of the sinuous muscles of his torso made my mouth water.

  He stripped down to his boxers, never taking his eyes away from me. When he moved to the bed, I reached for him and made him lie down next to me. I caressed his cheeks, his lips, his beautifully sculptured chest, then trailed my hand down over his stomach. When I reached even lower to remove his boxers, he groaned and let his head fall back onto the satin pillow.