“You’re okay, Ariana,” Bennett says to the girl. He kisses the hand he’s holding. “You’re okay.”
His voice snaps me from my momentary stupor. I hustle down the aisle toward them. It’s worse up close. Like her friend, she was once a beautiful girl. Blonde hair now becoming red from the bleeding gashes in her head. One blue eye swollen shut and the other staring up at Bennett with tears flowing. They both glance at me as I toss a broken seat aside so I can kneel beside her too. I learned first-aid at the police academy, but with one look at the position of the wound, the black blood seeping from it, and the tiny blood bubbles she breaths out, I know not even a trained doctor could save her now.
“I-I-Sh-Should y-you re-remove the metal?” the friend asks. “It-It-She—”
I gaze up at the girl. “Go outside,” I order, voice titanium. “Wait for the ambulance and bring them back here the moment they arrive. Go! Now!”
The command breaks through the shock. The teenager nods and sprints the opposite way down the aisle. She doesn’t need to be here. She doesn’t need to see this. Bennett gives me a little nod of approval before returning his attention to the girl. “It’s okay, Ariana,” he whispers, voice trembling right along with the rest of him. “She’s gone to get help. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.” He pets her hair. “You’re gonna be just fine. I’m here. I’m right here with you. I’m here, sweetheart.”
The girl tries to smile but only groans in pain, clutching onto Bennett’s hand as tight as she can. “Hey. Hey,” he says. She opens her eye again. “You’re doing so well. You’re being so brave. You just have to be brave a little while longer. You have to be strong. Can you be strong for us?”
She opens her mouth, trying to speak, and succeeds the second time. “Mo-Mommy,” she croaks. “I-I w-want Mommy. Mommy,” she sobs through the blood bubbles.
Jesus. Jesus.
Bennett kisses her hand again. “She’s coming. She’s on her way. Just be strong, sweetheart. Be strong for me. Be strong for her.”
“Mommy. Mommy. Mo—”
She coughs up blood as her body convulses. Oh, God.
“No. No,” Bennett whispers, holding onto her hand tighter even as her body grows limp. “No. No. No. No.”
“Bennett…” I touch his shoulder. His body jolts, I think in surprise. He’d forgotten I was here. I meet his tear-filled eyes. “She’s gone,” I whisper.
“No. She’ll be fine. She’s…” He looks down at the still girl. “We-We can do something. CPR. We-We—”
“She’s gone, Bennett. She’s gone. There was nothing you could do. She—”
“No!” he roars, rage filled gaze whipping my way. It cuts short my breath as if any movement could cause him to lash out at me. The moment passes. Anguish overtakes the madness. “There is,” he croaks out. “There was. I-I-I…” He stares down at her. “Too late. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Never again. I promise. Never again.” He kisses her hand. “Never again. Never. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobs.
He sobs until he cannot breathe. Until his eyes sting. I’ve been there. I know exactly what he needs. I wrap my arms around my friend and hold on tight until there are no tears left. Until the world fades away and returns. I let him know he’s not alone, no matter how much he may believe he is.
Sometimes that’s all you can do. And sometimes that has to be good enough.
*
When the night began I promised myself I wouldn’t end it in Bennett Stone’s penthouse. My word is gonna be worth less than a politician’s at this rate.
It took emergency services forever to arrive at the theater, almost twenty minutes. Not that I blame them. They had their hands full. The battle spanned almost ten blocks, not a single one of those blocks left unmolested. We heard on the radio the fight continued on after the theater until White Knight finally apprehended the villain. I did breathe a literal sigh of relief upon hearing Justin was alive. Cold comfort when you literally have a dead teenager’s blood on your hands. Bennett and I stayed with Tina, Ariana’s friend, until EMTs got around to her, keeping her warm, still, and feet elevated. Shock. She should be fine though. At least physically.
It was nice to see how everyone in the surrounding restaurants and apartments came out with water and blankets for the injured. Even Carla and Lola popped by with our coats and trays of water for the people. Bennett barely spoke. He just rubbed Tina’s feet as I asked her questions until she was carted off. Since there was little else we could do after that, and I was shaking from both the temperature and adrenaline withdrawal, I called the limo driver from Bennett’s phone and got him out of there. Even alone he didn’t speak, didn’t do anything but stare out the window, face an unreadable mask. There was no way in hell I was leaving him alone after all that. There was no way in hell I wanted to be alone after all that. I told the driver to take us to his penthouse and got out after him. Still not a peep, even as we ride up the elevator.
His place isn’t as I’d imagined. I’d anticipated chrome and modern simplicity not deep, plush burgundy carpeting, wood paneling, polished antiques, oil paintings and ancient maps framing the walls. Reminds me of an English manor house. Warm. Classy. Homey even. Bennett drops his keys, wallet, and cell phone on the end table by the front door then just stares at the specks of blood on his white shirt and cuff. “I still have blood on me,” he whispers, shocked.
I take a step to his side and slip my hand in his. “Then lets get cleaned up, huh? Come on.”
I lead him down the hallway, past family photos on the end tables, to his bedroom. Not as I’d imagined either. A king size four poster bed fills most of the space with an ornately carved armoire in the corner, dresser with TV on top, and more oil paintings of serene men and women on the walls. I sit him down on his bed, and he stares up as if he sees right through me. I smile anyway before going into the bathroom. Jesus. My make-up has held up fairly well but my hair’s half fallen out of its side bun and tiny red dots mar my cheek and chest. I grab a wash cloth and scrub the blood away. I still feel dirty down to my bones. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and force the revulsion, the sadness down. Not now, Jo. You’re needed.
Bennett hasn’t moved. He doesn’t move as I kneel in front of him to remove his shoes. His cummerbund. As I unbutton and remove his bloody shirt and wipe the fluids from his neck and face. At least he sees me this time. His eyes follow my every movement, a small, sad smile growing with each act until the corners of his mouth begin to tremble and tears well in his brown eyes. “Shit,” he whispers. “Shit.”
“You did everything you could,” I whisper back. “I mean it. You gave that girl comfort. You kept her calm. You let her know she wasn’t alone when she needed it the most. That was all you could do. And you did it to perfection. Good job.”
Bennett lets out a choked laugh as tears fall from his eyes. He wipes them away and shakes his head. “I-I just…” He swallows. “Why? Why did…? She was so young. She just wanted to see a movie with her friend. If she’d just sat somewhere else. If those…fuckers had chosen to go down another street. If they’d just done us all a favor and killed each other. If I moved up—” His mouth suddenly snaps shut. He closes his eyes and lets out a puff of breath before opening them again. He doesn’t look at me this time. “Do you believe in God?”
“I-I don’t know.”
“I wish I still did. I used to. When I was a child. We went to church every week. Mom made us say grace at every meal, thank God in our prayers every night. I even considered becoming a priest.” I raise an eyebrow and Bennett smiles. “I know. Never would have happened, but I was young and I…think I just wanted to help people. Seemed the best way all around.” He gazes up at the heavens again. “We were actually on our way to a church fundraiser when it happened. One minute we were driving, talking about riding the Ferris wheel they’d rented, then just…bang. I blinked and the roof crushed in my parents’ heads. They just vanished in a spurt of blood, metal, and rock.
�
��Molly and I must have been knocked to the floor. That metal and rock slid farther, pinning my baby sister underneath it.” He shakes his head and wipes away the tears before looking at me once more. “I tried to move the rock. I tried and I tried, even as her blood curling screams begged me not to. For half an hour as I prayed to God, as I tortured my little sister with my stubbornness and ineptitude, I tried. I swore I’d become a priest. I’d donate organs. I’d give away every penny in my trust if He would just help me move the boulder and save my Molly. This little girl who still believed in Santa Claus and loved butterflies. But it wouldn’t move,” he says, voice cracking. “And the moment my arms gave out, the moment I lost my strength, was the moment I lost my faith. It was the moment I realized that if God ever did exist, he didn’t give a shit about us. I realized that we were on our own. That there is no karma, no plan, no divine retribution or punishment for the wicked. If we wanted it, we’d have to dole it our ourselves. It’s on us, and only us. We change the world for better or worse.”
“Hopefully for the better,” I whisper. “That’s all any of us can hope for. Strive for. That the good we give and receive outweighs the bad. That there are more good people out in the world than evil. That even the evil are redeemable. That love will always be a far greater force than hate and apathy. That good intentions can be enough. That we always at least try. Like you did tonight.”
He actually smiles, which brings one to my face too. Hesitantly, he reaches up, hand lingering a centimeter above my cheek a second before he touches me. I place my hand over his. “I have to kiss you right now, okay?” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to go beyond—”
I silence his words with the needed kiss. Sweet and tender quickly growing savage. Primal. The type of kiss that only a nightmare night can spur. When you’ve gone to hell and back and need to remind yourself that pleasure is still possible. We fuck the pain, the loneliness, the rage at life away until when we come crashing back to earth we can continue on another day. And as I fall asleep in my friend’s arms, I don’t dread the sun rising or the fresh hell the new day will bring. For tonight good enough might actually be enough.
At least until the dawn comes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Because It Matters
Oh, there is nothing like waking up well and truly fucked.
Sore in the right places, limp in all others. Scorched earth where no tension can take root. I don’t even care that the clock reads 11:12. I’m beyond late for work on a day I haven’t that luxury. My give a damn’s busted. I stretch like a cat and sigh contentedly. Boy, I needed that. But now I need to pee and brush the cat box out of my mouth. Fuck you reality. I throw off the covers, snatch a shirt from Bennett’s dresser, and pad to the bathroom. Coffee right after.
“No, goddamn it, you’re not listening,” Bennett says behind a closed door down the hall. “Doc, I don’t care about the cost. After all I’ve put into this, two hundred million is pocket change. I am just asking if it’s medically possible to move the timetable up. If we’re ready for roll out.”
Shop talk. Coffee’s more important than eavesdropping right now. He’s left me half a pot waiting in the small kitchen. Taking in the shiny counters and appliances he is definitely the type who has never turned on the oven in the corner. Okay, now I have my coffee, it’s time to snoop. Bennett’s muffled voice continues as I meander through his penthouse, starting at the entrance hallway, specifically the photos on the table. Bennett, wearing a ski suit holding up a pole as a blizzard storms around him. Bennett in church cradling a baby in a christening gown as Graham and CeCe flank him. Bennett waving on a wall cliff, suspended by ropes probably a thousand feet off the ground. Shaking hands with the President. Him as a teenager with a younger girl in his arms. Has to be Molly. Same smile, same large brown eyes. She would have been a beauty. Goddamn waste.
The living room’s next. Like my penthouse, shit former penthouse, an entire wall is glass and for good reason. The expanse of Independence is laid out before me. The National Monument’s gray arch, the Great Garden Park, President Huddleston’s memorial coliseum, all there. Must be breathtaking at night.
The wall behind me proves no less interesting. Books, books, and more books, some leather-bound and others the more modern paper. You can tell a lot about a person by their choice of entertainment. The old tomes are standard classics that appear never opened. The paperbacks are far more eclectic. Seems Bennett and Jem have similar taste in reading material. Spy novels, biographies, non-fiction about the Black Plague, Spanish flu, several on the uber-gene. Hell, he even has one written my Jem’s “father,” the psycho fucking fuck Dr. Christian Ambrose. Dr. Frankenstein more like. His monster turned on his maker too.
I pluck that book from the shelf and flip through it. All medical mumbo jumbo. I turn it over to the author photo and find myself staring at an older version of Jem straight down to the horn-rimmed glasses. So. This is the madman who genetically engineered then tortured the love of my life. There were nine failures: Adam and Aaron, Benjamin and Bernard all the way until Jonathan and Jordan came into the world, perfect in every way medically possible. Maybe if old Christian had let them be boys instead of lab rats their minds could have been perfect too. If he’d given them love. Support. Kindness. Not lab tests and vivisection. It’s a damn miracle Jem turned out as wonderful as he did. Kind, caring, strong, a man who strives to always do the right thing. Who devotes his life to helping others, usually to his detriment. Who…shit. My eyes are suddenly wet. Guess last night’s ice thawed.
China. He’s going to China. They do have better facilities. Probably more funding. Greater freedom. Work. All that matters is the work. Changing the world for the better. That’s why we made such good partners. We understood and fueled that part of each other. But I’m never going to see him again. Never. He’s moving halfway around the world. He…shit. I close my eyes and force the tears down. I’m not crying over him again. I’m not. He—
I sense his body heat a moment before one hand snakes down over my hip while the other glides under the shirt to my bare breast. I gasp as his fingers begin toying with me, playing my body like a guitar. I don’t open my eyes. I just let the sensations overwhelm the negativity. He does what he wants, and I let him. Anything to push Jem out of my mind. I don’t open my eyes again until my breathing regulates. Bennett smiles down at me, playing with my hair. I manage a smile back. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“Thank you right back. I did too,” he replies, grin growing. “So…?”
“So…?” I chuckle. “Everything okay at work? I heard you reaming someone a new one on the phone. Problems with the Society or—”
“No. Just a speed bump on another project.”
“Anything I can do to help?” I ask.
“Believe me, Miss Fallon,” he says, hand sliding up my thigh again, “you have helped enough.”
I stop his advance. “Enough of that, playboy.” I extract myself from his sweaty body and snatch up my shirt beside that damn book. “I am already late for work.” Bennett flips on his side as I stand. “I have a trillion loose ends to tie up before I leave.”
“Still plan on going back to Galilee tomorrow?”
“I have an appointment with my realtor to look at office space tomorrow, and my cousin’s birthday party at night, so I kind of have to. Can I borrow some clothes?”
“Take whatever you want.”
“Thanks,” I say as I walk to the hallway.
I think he was gearing up for a serious conversation which I am in no mood for. I find a set of sweatpants and hoodie in his dresser. My beautiful dress lies on the ground torn along with my pantyhose. At least my panties remain intact. Bennett, wearing nothing but jeans and a smile, walks in as I dress. “You know, I’ll probably be in Galilee in the next few days.”
“Oh. Good. Hopefully I’ll have a space to show you. We might even be to the local hiring phase.”
“Fantastic,” he says with little enthusiasm.
; Okay, I am seriously out of practice with the whole getting away clean the morning after thing. I’m not sure what to say or do except leave. I slip on my heels. “I’ll e-mail you photos of the offices I like.”
“That’s okay. I trust your judgment. I’ll be busy with other things anyway.”
“The pet project? Care to share?”
“A guy’s gotta have his secrets to keep the mystery alive,” he says with that boyish smile.
Cue mine. “Well, you have my number if you need help. Or a sounding board. Or—”
“A blowjob?” he asks, eyebrow raised. “You do owe me one after the living room, us being equal partners and all.”
That’s better. Banter I can handle. With a sly grin, I saunter over to him. “I am all about equality.” I kiss him. Twice. “See you in a few days, playboy.”
“I’m counting the moments already.”
He swats my ass as I walk past. Getaway complete.
It’s still freezing but sunny as I begin my walk of shame. The doorman leaves his seat to hail me a cab. I need to get back to the hotel, shower, and change. I’ll be up all night with my loose ends so I can make the flight and appointments tomorrow. A cab pulls up before I begin shivering. I thank the doorman and climb in. The stop and go of city traffic does nothing to help my sense of urgency. So damn much to do. I’d walk but in these heels—
The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes Page 17
