by Emelia Blair
So, I do.
And when I open my eyes, the electricity is back and the room is filled with the scent of steamed fish.
Jace’s side of the bed is empty, and yawning, I sit up, before letting out a yelp.
My lower body is so sore!
“What’s wrong?”
I look up to see Jace rushing out from the bathroom, his face taut with worry.
“You screamed.”
Wincing, I pull myself to the edge of the bed, wrapping the bedsheet around me. “I hate you. Everything hurts.”
His face relaxes at my words and he chuckles. “Just stay there. I’ll bring you the food.”
However, I’m not one to listen to instructions. As soon as he turns around, I clamber out of bed and start pulling on my discarded clothes. Clenching my teeth, I walk to the curtains. Parting them reveals that it’s still raining, although the intensity has lowered.
The pang in my stomach makes me look over at the boxes on the table.
“Did you get food delivered?” I ask and glance over at Jace.
He’s rubbing his head with a towel. “It was raining too hard for deliveries, so I went to that place you were looking at on your phone on the ride over.”
My heart tightens at his words. He went out in this horrible weather for me?
Jace doesn’t seem to notice my dilemma and says, calmly, “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a little bit of their best dishes.”
The towel is hanging from his neck and it’s then when I register—he’s shirtless. My face instantly flushes red but I can’t keep myself from staring. There’s not an ounce of fat on his body, and I gawk, wondering where he finds the time to stay so fit.
“What?” Jace catches me looking and frowns. “What is it?”
I shake my head, pursing my lips.
My initial impression of him had always been that of a grumpy, antisocial man, who barked orders and liked to practice his scowl in the mirror. And then, he started becoming a friend of sorts. I never thought he could treat someone so gently, as he handled me.
There’s a kindness in him that he hides, a fierce protectiveness that seems to come out whenever I’m upset or in trouble. I’ve never experienced something like that, never had somebody I can lean against without worrying about how to pay them back.
The entire week I spent angry with him for his weird behavior, I felt off and unhappy. The novelty of being hit on faded quickly because none of those men could compare to my boss. I’d much rather have Jace scowl at me and scold me even as he tosses me a cushion to put behind my back when sitting on his office two-seater. And when he gives me his rare smiles, it makes my heart feel light and airy.
“Stop leering at me.” He puts his hands over my eyes.
I grin, slyly at him. “Why? Are you shy?”
He immediately removes his hands, glaring at me. “Do I look shy to you?”
“Sure seems like—Ow ow! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I take it back! You’re not shy!” I howl out my words incoherently, as Jace pinches my cheeks and tugs. When he releases me, I rub my aching cheeks, muttering, “You’re a tyrant. That’s what you are.”
“Stop whining or your food will get cold,” He guides me over to the table and pushes me down into the chair. As he unwraps the food, he asks, “Aren’t you hungry?” He raises a brow at me.
I squirm in my seat. I don’t know why I’m feeling so self-conscious but I’m extremely aware of the bed, and its presence is just a vivid reminder of everything Jace did to me on it just a few hours ago.
What happened to all my bravery?
I take the utensils he’s holding out, overcome with this strange shyness, and I catch him giving me an odd look before sitting across from me.
The food is still hot and I feel the flavor bursting into my mouth with each bite of the baked fish. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d gotten a little bit of everything. The whole table is littered with dishes. I sneak a glance at him. “Aren’t you going to put on a shirt?”
He blinks at me, then a wicked grin forms on his lips. “Am I distracting you?”
I sniff, disdainfully. “As if.”
He clearly looks like he is enjoying himself as he leans back in his chair, and smirks. “Then why would you point it out?”
I open my mouth and struggle to say something. However, I come up empty and I snap my mouth shut, only to open it to mutter out, my cheeks red, slumping in my seat. “You’re stupid.”
He chuckles. “Eat your food.”
I shove the fish in my mouth to prevent myself from saying something dumb. We eat in silence but I catch myself sneaking glances at him when I don’t think he’s looking. Of course, that doesn’t really work out because he keeps catching me in the act and the silly smile on his face keeps growing broader and broader till I just want to hit him.
It’s making me feel weird and I don’t know what to do about my heart, which is beating so loudly that I fear Jace can hear it over the humming of the generator.
However, I don’t get much time to ponder over my feelings because once we’re done with our meal, reality sinks in as I bring over my laptop to the table and open it.
Seeing my mother’s picture in the downloaded file is jolting, and for a few seconds, I just stare at her unsmiling face in her passport sized photo that someone had provided them with and there’s a pang in my heart. I swallow the pain, wondering why after all this time, it still feels so fresh and raw like the wound never stopped bleeding.
Would I have turned out different if she had been alive to guide me through life? Would she have approved of Jace? Would she have held my hand through my nightmares and stroked my head like she used to?
My eyes burn.
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Jace standing next to me. I stare at him, almost blindly as a tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?” I ask, brokenly. “It’s been so long—I shouldn’t…” I can’t get the words out.
His hand cups my face and he wipes my tear away with his thumb as he tells me, his tone so unbearable gentle, “You’re not being stupid.”
My lower lip quivers before I firm it, giving him a shaky nod, and turning back to the screen.
Everything is handwritten and it has simply been scanned to create an online copy. The writing is sloppy, very hard to read, and I find myself squinting at places.
Detective Egerton clearly worked hard at trying to track down my mother and I’m surprised that she was declared missing only after I was found roaming in the parking lot of a small motel, the nearest one to our house.
As the weeks go by, I can see the hopelessness in Egerton’s words, the frustration with the lack of a trail.
I move to the statements of family and friends.
‘…child is clearly traumatized…no recollection…injured feet…malnourished…psych eval concurs that she herself has repressed the memories of the incident.’
It’s strange to see someone having recorded my reaction, and I read it a few times as if trying to decipher my own behavior from back then. But I come up empty. Those days are so blurred in my head that I can’t pick anything apart.
My breathing quickens.
Why would I repress my own memories? What could I possibly have witnessed that was so traumatizing that I chose to forget about it?
I move on and see Aunt Angela’s statement, which is surprisingly long.
My eyes widen as I go through it and then Egerton’s notes.
‘…displaying nerves…claims that Lily Cooper had mentioned leaving a few times…doesn’t make eye contact...is alibied by her husband…insisting that the Lily Cooper has left of own accord…statement keeps changing.. suspicious behavior...investigate further…’
My heart is in turmoil as I recall the soft-spoken woman who’d tried her best to give me a loving home. However, as I scroll down, her name isn’t mentioned in the suspect list. But the name that is, takes me by surprise, making me sit up.
<
br /> Samuel Jordon is a name I’m all too familiar with.
While Cameron had never been overly attached to his womanizing father who was also the town drunk, his unexpected suicide a few months after my mother’s disappearance had shaken my friend.
I never knew his father was a suspect in the case.
The section dedicated to him states that he stalked my mother and records public displays of indecency. There is no mention of a suicide note but it is clearly stated that he denied everything, and when he was taken into custody for obstructing the investigation, he hung himself in jail. His name was partially cleared afterwards.
Why kill himself? That sounds like an extreme step.
And why didn’t Cameron ever tell me? He must have known.
Troubled and trying to contain this strange guilt inside me whispering to me that my friend’s father’s death had something to do with my situation, I look at the next name on the page and my brow furrows.
Jet Stalinski?
The name doesn’t sound familiar but his picture is familiar. He used to come to the house. I remember because my mother introduced him to me. There’s not much written about him except that he went missing around the same time. Apparently, he was a constant visitor in town and his visits had grown more and more regular during that year. However, the day my mother went missing, so did he. His wallet and belongings were still in the motel room.
“Jet Stalinski?” Jace reads aloud from behind me. “He was a suspect?”
I stare at the man’s smiling picture, and reply, slowly, “It seems so. But he never resurfaced. Apparently, Egerton contacted the authorities but no one in his hometown had heard from him. It’s like he just vanished one day.”
“Like your mother.”
I echo his words, softly, “Like my mother…” I pause, “Only, why wouldn’t he take his wallet, his cards, his money? Everything was left behind.” I look up at Jace. “I met him. Not once but quite a few times. He had dinner at our house and he babysat me once.” My tone is confused. “We never met outside of the house, though. He was always so nice to me.”
“The police never mentioned him to you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t remember much. Some memories are crystal clear and some are just blurred. But if Egerton had asked me about him, he would have mentioned it in the report.”
I glimpse the testimony from Uncle Raymond and Egerton mentions how inconsolable he was. My heart goes out to my haggard uncle. Life has been so cruel to him, first ripping away his childhood friend and then his family.
How is he still so kind and together?
I make a mental note to go hug him when I see him next. He has been both a father and a mother to me.
I’m all the family he has left.
I sigh, closing the laptop. “Well, this was both informative and useless.” With an afterthought, I admit, “Not completely useless. I know more than I ever did. Plus, the forged passports; if I can find out who made them, it might give me a clue.”
“A clue to what?” Jace pushes the laptop behind as he leans against the table in front of me. “Halley, you’re doing exactly what your mother told you not to do.”
There’s concern in his voice and I feel irritated. “I’m not making it public that I’m looking into her death. I just want to know…” I get to my feet and start pacing, agitated. “This whole thing started because somebody killed Hashem. Even if that wasn’t enough, the money and these passports and the letter, what am I supposed to do? Look the other way?”
Jace lets out a deep breath and then stands up, putting his hands on my shoulders to keep me still. “I already knew the answer to that. Don’t know why I asked. But you can’t trust anyone, and don’t let anyone know what you’re up to. Not your friends and not Raymond.”
At the last part, my head jerks up. “But Uncle—?”
”It’s to keep him safe,” Jace says, firmly. “If this person is still around, he will be keeping an eye on you.”
A sudden fear grips me, chilling me to the bone. “What about you?”
Jace gives me a half smile. “I plan to be careful, as should you. I’ve already talked to Caleb. He’ll meet us when we get back and help us track whoever forged these passports. That will give us a lead.”
I look up at him, studying his handsome face. “You’re really going to help me?”
He kneels by my side till we’re face-to-face. “Why is that even a question at this point?”
His gaze is too direct and it makes me fumble with my shirt. “Well, it’s quite dangerous, as you put it.”
“So? Somebody has to protect you.”
“Who’ll protect you?”
He suddenly grins at me, a cheeky boyish smile. “I thought you were going to protect me? Although, considering how you’ve made me an accomplice in a federal crime, you might have to end up protecting me in prison.”
“My server was secure. They wouldn’t even know they were hacked.” I try to reassure him.
He plants his hands on my cheeks and pulls me forward, kissing me deeply, as if leaving behind his very essence in me. As he pulls away, he murmurs, “I have your back, Halley.”
The words are simple and somewhat crude, but as we drive back the next morning, I think to myself, they hold much more meaning to me than anything else he could have said.
It’s afternoon when we reach home and I go with Jace to hide the money in his apartment, only to find someone waiting for us.
Caleb Starr has an intimidating presence and he’s good looking in an icy sort of way. He takes one look at us, then at the bag, and raises a brow. “Is that it?”
Jace tosses him the bag. “Yeah.”
As Jace opens the door, I weakly greet the CEO of the company I’m interning in, “Ah, how’s Kendall?”
“Sulking because I wouldn’t bring her to count the money. She likes counting large sums of money,” Caleb informs me in a deadpan tone.
“It makes her feel like she’s rich,” Jace explains to me as he turns on the lights.
“She is rich. Everything I have is hers.” Caleb glances at Jace.
I can see a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
Jace snorts. “Don’t look at me. You chose to marry her, knowing how weird she is.”
“That’s my wife you’re talking about.” Caleb narrows his eyes at him.
Jace rolls his. “Doesn’t make her any less crazy.”
Caleb just smiles. “I’ll be sure to tell Kendall that.”
When Jace pales, I wonder why he’s so scared of his tiny sister. But then Kendall can be pretty terrifying when she wants to be. I shut the door behind me.
Caleb empties the bag and studies the cash spilling on the table. He lifts up a bundle as if weighing it and then puts it down. “I’ll get the bills traced. Although each bundle must have been withdrawn one at a time.” He then reaches for the passports and looks at them, raising a brow. “These are of pretty decent quality. Not the best, but at the time they were made, there could only be a handful of people who could create such excellent quality forgeries.” He turns to me and there’s a glint in his eyes. “Fortunately, I know how to contact nearly all of them. Monday.”
He turns to walk out.
I whisper to Jace, “What does he mean ‘Monday’?”
Caleb overhears me and tosses over his shoulder, “You can meet him in my office on Monday. If he’s still alive, that is.”
“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” I blurt out, anxiously.
When Caleb gives me a long look, I mumble out, sufficiently cowed, “Because that’s against the law and stuff.”
He quirks a brow. “As opposed to breaking into a federal database?”
My eyes widen in horror.
His lips twitch. “Relax, Jace told me. You’re very good at what you do, Halley. Come to me once your internship is over.” He leaves with the money.
Jace comes up behind me and loops his arm around my waist. “Now that that’s dealt with, let’
s talk.” He drags me into the bedroom and strips off his shirt.
I immediately cover my eyes. “What are you doing?!” Then I peek at him through my fingers.
He gives me an amused look before opening his wardrobe and pulling out a shirt. “Changing. You’ve already seen me naked…” He pauses.
Suddenly, I don’t trust the gleam in his eye as he looks at me.
“You haven’t, have you?” he asks.
My eyes grow round. “I don’t know what you’re planning but stop it!”
The wicked intent in his eyes is even more pronounced as he tosses the folded shirt onto the bed beside me and stalks over. “So you do get shy. Good to know.”
“I also bite!” I threaten, scrambling backwards onto the bed. I find myself tangled with the bedsheets and fall back on the soft mattress.
Jace is smirking. “We’ll get you out of that habit before I put my cock anywhere near your mouth.” He puts his hands on my ankles and yanks me forward till my butt is close to dangling on the edge of the bed and he’s braced himself on his hands on either side of my waist.
I don’t think I will ever get used to the way his lips curl slowly, and the way he devours me with raw hunger in his eyes. That one look gets me wet like anything. He plants his mouth on my right breast. Despite the fact that there is a bra under my thin shirt, my nipple puckers up from the heat of his mouth and I let out a wanton moan.
He bites the hardened nub through the shirt and the slickness between my thighs makes me rub my legs together, my breathing ragged.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, his smile sly as his eyes search mine.
I feel so utterly exposed like this and yet I don’t mind. I like it. I want him to do what he wants with me… the desire to be at his mercy makes me quiver in both need and fear. I rub my legs together again.
He notices the movement. His eyes are on mine as he orders, softly, “Open your legs for me.”
I obey, instinctively.
He presses his mouth on my jaw, all the while murmuring, “Unbutton your jeans.”
The thread of sanity inside of me is protesting this and I bury it under the avalanche of sensation that his mere words are throwing me under. My hands move to my jeans and I pause for a second.
