Marked. Part I: The missing Link

by J. M. Sevilla

“Who's that?”

  “An old...acquaintance I guess you could say.”

  “You would think after all this,” I wave a finger around, “that I would deserve more than vague answers from you. Yet I know nothing except you're a contract killer who's looking for M...” I trail off, remembering I'm not allowed to say that name.

  “I'm not a contract killer,” he clarifies, “my father was. I only helped him out on jobs. The more you know, the more complicated this gets. If you ever want to go back to your life, you need to know as little as possible.”

  “Whatever,” I grumble. It's pointless to try and have a normal conversation with him without me getting irritated and him being vague.

  “Are you going to be mad at me all the time now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “At least that's cleared up.” I didn't miss his astringent tone that poured out like acid.

  “It's the only certain thing between us,” I bite back.

  “No, not the only thing,” the side of his lip turns up suggestively, reminiscent of the past.

  Ignoring the tickling desire his mouth provokes I cross my arms, determined to not let him get to me, “Please, what else?” I dare him, wanting him to see that I'm no longer affected by him.

  “The way we kiss each other,” the words flow out rich and velvety, forming a coat around my already flushed skin.

  Oh god, he had to bring that up.

  “How good we are in bed,” he adds, as if the first response wasn't already turning the car into an inferno.

  “Well, I have nothing to compare it to so I can't confirm.” I remain vigilant in my intent to be unaffected, or at least appear to be.

  “Trust me, it's good.” He moves his head slightly to give me his salacious smile that always saturates my lower half, which is now clenched in thirst. Damn him.

  “Was. It was good,” I point out in spite.

  Jay's lips curve down and melancholy sweeps through the air. He is the only person I know that has the ability to change the earth's atmosphere based on his mood.

  “How many women do you have to compare it to?”

  “You want a number?”

  “Sure.” Why not.

  He scratches his scruff. Crap, he actually has to think about it? How big is this number?

  He gives me a light shove, “It's only been five so stop looking at me like that.”

  I take a second, thinking I heard him wrong, “That's it?”

  “Yes, I'm not a complete ass.”

  “The jury's still out on that one.”

  He makes a grunting noise and we both sit and stew in silence.

  I'm glad when we arrive at the shopping center. It felt good to get out of the car and have a brief moment of distance from him. I lazily stretch as I watch Jay slowly moving his head around, no doubt scouting the place out.

  He moves one row over and stops at an older, black Honda Civic. He uses the slim jim again, throws our stuff in the trunk, and forcefully pushes me into the passengers seat.

  “Are we ever going to stop for food?” I don't mean to sound as whiny as I do, but I haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours and that was only a few strips of beef jerky. My brain is foggy and I'm sluggish in movement, which I'm guessing is bad when you're on the run.

  “We'll stop for dinner in a few hours,” Jay says as he starts the car.

  Fan-fricking-tastic.

  I fight back the tears that are just as hungry as I am.

  We drive off and continue our silence.

  Chapter 25

  1:53pm

  The hunger is getting too much to bear. I decide to engage Jay in conversation in hopes of distracting my ever growing need for food and water.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Yuma. I can sort out where we'll go from there.”

  I snort.

  “What?” Jay asks.

  “It's taken me three days to get to a place that's only a few hours from my home.”

  Jay laughs, “Yeah, it's been one fucked up road trip.”

  “Road trips are something you do when you're having fun,” I snip.

  Now the car is filled with silence. The uncomfortable kind, the kind that is awkward because no one knows what to say next.

  Jay turns down the radio station I barely registered was on, “Tell me what questions they answered about me.”

  “Uh, well, your dad was a contract killer who taught you everything he knew and you're after He Who Must Not Be Named who I have decided to call V.”

  “V?”

  “After Voldemort.”

  Jay throws his head back and laughs. I love the deep, thick openness of it. I smile widely in return.

  “If I call him V, can I ask you about him?”

  “No. What else did they tell you about V?” He half sneers, half smirks, like he can't decide if he's amused or agitated.

  “He's called The Marker?” I say it more as a question because I'm not confident in everything I remember from that day; I was in such a state of shock and fear my mind was a little jumbled.

  “To some, yeah.”

  “Is that why you call him Mark?”

  “Yeah, best way to talk about him in public. Nobody thinks a conversation is strange if they overhear you talking about looking for someone named Mark. What else?”

  I trail my fingers over his scars and his body stiffens, “Did they tell you how I got them?”

  I shake my head and drop my hand. “No,” I whisper. “Did he kill your mom?”

  “And my dad,” he answers in the same hushed tone.

  My heart hurts for him and I place my hand on his thigh. Jay reaches down and entwines our fingers. Neither one of us says any more, but this time the silence isn't uncomfortable; it's a peaceful quiet. We still have the ability to find sanctuary in each other, and I'm glad I can give him that.

  5:17pm

  We still haven't spoken but our hands have remained connected. Jay exits the highway and I suck in a breath of excitement when he pulls into an In-N-Out Burger.

  He rolls down the window, “What do you want?”

  “Number two, with a Chocolate shake,” I'm glad no drool escaped when I answer; the aroma of food has entered the car and it smells heavenly.

  I love this place but so does everyone else, and today the long line of cars is killing me. Twenty minutes later, Jay is handing the bag of food to me. I dig in, stuffing fistfuls of fries into my mouth and sucking my shake down between chews.

  Heaven.

  Luckily, I remember to slow it down. After my third mouthful I start pulling out each fry one by one.

  Jay keeps glancing at me as he continues to drive, “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Monday afternoon,” I answer, a little muffled from the huge bite of cheeseburger I just took.

  He growls, slams his hand on the wheel, and sharply turns his head to me, “Why the fuck didn't you tell me?”

  “I don't want to be more trouble than I already am.” I offer him a fry, which he uses his mouth to take. Butterflies and tingles shoot through my body. I quickly avert my eyes and focus on my food, even though my hunger is placed elsewhere now.

  “Promise me you'll let me know when you need something, anything.” The way he says anything all low and husky has my body reacting again and I fiercely suck my milkshake, trying to get past images of us out of my head. “Promise me, Lily. This mess isn't your fault, it's mine. I need you to promise me that you'll tell me any time you need something. I don't care what it is.” His sincerity almost dissolves any restraint I have left, which is getting smaller and smaller.

  He has now parked the car and he reaches into the bag on my lap, pulling out his half.

  “Okay, I promise.” His smile is huge as he lifts up his sunglasses and is still smiling when he takes a big bite out of his double-double. “I need a shower and new clothes, like right now. Well not right now, 'cause I want to finish eating, but can we hit up the Target over there and get some clothes and
stuff?”

  “Not a problem, then we're going to take a cab to a nearby hotel. I saw a Days Inn when we arrived. We'll stay there tonight.”

  I do a little happy dance in my seat and eat the rest of my food.

  8:13pm

  I collapse onto the bed, freshly showered, teeth brushed, in clean pajamas, and vowing to never take such luxuries for granted again.

  Jay is sitting on the opposite bed, going over the papers from the briefcase and using the laptop he bought at Target (with the mounds of cash stuffing his wallet, I almost choked at the site of it all).

  “What's on the USB?” I ask, snuggling into a pillow and contently sighing.

  “Everything there is to know about you, and the pictures they have of us.”

  I crawl out of bed and join him, moving papers aside to get a better view of what exactly “everything” means.

  All feelings of contentment drain from my body when I realize he means everything, from my elementary school teachers to the first boy I kissed to the jobs I've had.

  How do they even know all this? It's majorly creeping me out.

  “Don't worry, I'll find out whoever else has this information and destroy it all, along with anyone who has seen it,” Jay vows, but it doesn't bring me any comfort.

  “I know you said they won't come after my family, but how are you so sure? What if they use them to get to me to get to you?” I don't even know if that makes any sense, but that's my current fear. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to them because of us.

  “In my line of work, we don't get close to people. On the rare occasion we let someone in, they become a weakness. Anybody who's dealt with my kind knows the only way to get to that person is through their weaknesses. Going after family members won't matter, only the safety of that person matters. The only death they will prevent is the person they have let in.”

  “Why?”

  “You can't survive in this business if you start to care about the lives of others.”

  I hear what he is saying but that's not Jay. He may think he's some cold-hearted killer, but I know he's not. He has so many more layers than that. The rough, hard layer is only his top layer – the easiest to shed.

  “Is there anyone else they will try to use?” Please say no, I would hate to think of anyone else's life in danger.

  He concentrates on the computer, “You’re the only one I've let in.”

  “Ever?”

  “Yup,” he responds, squinting and leaning in to the screen like this conversation holds little interest to him.

  “What about your Dad?” I continue to study him, because his face may be trying to show indifference, but his body has tensed and he's concentrating way too hard on the screen.

  “I was closer to you,” he scrubs his face, obviously feeling on edge with the conversation, “and he's dead, so he does them no good. Besides, they'd use him for a job before me any day.”

  “But we barely know each other. You lived with your dad your whole life.” There is no way he's closer to me.

  Jay finally looks at me, his eyes a mix of melancholy and something else I can't place, “He knew what I'm capable of and how my mind works better than anyone, but you know me as a person.”

  “So no one really knows you?” I attest as gently as I can, “Because I have to say, you feel like a stranger to me.” Which is mostly true. I think I love him, but how can I when I know so little about him?

  “Because you think I slept with Sheila?” His eyes grow dim, and his voice has turned crisp.

  “No, because you never share anything with me. That only made me hate you,” I heatedly fire back. Saying it made me hate him is a total lie, but I wish it was the truth. It would make this a little easier.

  “I told you I'd find a way to make it easier for me to leave,” he disputes, even more testy than me.

  My blood is starting to boil from remembering that day and the fact that he broke my heart, thinking it would make him leaving easier on me.

  “Well, it didn't.” I scoot closer, poking him in the chest, “It made our time together feel cheapened, as though I meant nothing to you. I would rather be pining away the rest of my life for losing...you.” I almost said “the love of my life,” but thankfully my brain and mouth are on par today.

  Jay lets out an icy laugh, “I highly doubt you would have been pining forever. Trust me, some other man will sweep you off your feet and worship you the way you deserve. You'll hardly remember me one day.”

  His arctic demeanor and withdrawn response has me ready to battle and hash this out, “Did I mean nothing to you?”

  Jay goes back to placing his attention on the screen, “I refuse to answer that. You should already know the answer, and I never slept with her. She came on to me and I pushed her away. I only went to the party to get shitfaced – which I did. When you assumed, I let you, thinking it would help you forget about me.”

  “I ate like five pounds of chocolate because of that!” I cry, punching him on the arm.

  “Hey!” He wails, touching the red spot my fist made on his skin, “Shit, I’m really sorry I ever showed you how to do that properly.”

  I cross my arms, not yet ready to make nice, “I'm not.”

  “I know, I have evidence all over my arm,” He grumbles, still rubbing his arm while the other holds onto a paper he is now reading.

  I lean back onto his headboard, “Don't do that to me again, okay?” My voice has become subdued but I'm sure he hears the underlying ache.

  “You have my word. I never want to see that look on your face again. I've never hated myself more.” He tosses a cell phone on my lap, “You need to call your mom before she has your face plastered all over the news with missing person slashed across it.”

  I rub my thumb over the keypad, “What do I tell her?”

  “Tell her they are fearful of your safety and have you under protection until it's safe to return home. Make it sound like I'm a threat to you.”

  “But you're not.”

  “That's not what you thought earlier today.”

  “I was scared, tired, hungry, and exhausted. I know I'm safe with you. I'm sorry for being such an ass about it. It's been an overwhelming past few days. I trust you, Jay. I was hurting, and I think I wanted you to hurt too.”

  “I was hurting,” he answers so softly I almost don't hear him.

  I ignore the urge to wrap my arms around him and dial my mom's number instead.

  On the second ring she picks up, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Lily! I've been going out of my mind with worry. Are you alright? Where are you?” The familiar sound of my mom's voice has me choking up.

  “I'm fine. It's been crazy since I left. They are worried for my safety and moved me to a secret location. They finally agreed to let me call you under a secure line, but I only have about thirty seconds left.”

  “Are you okay? Are they taking good care of you? I don't need to worry about that killer do I?”

  “No, they are more than confident he won't return. It's not his style. They are treating me really well Mom, please don't worry about me. I'm right where I belong.” I stare into Jay's eyes as I say the last part, “Everything I desire is here, inches from me, so don't worry, I'm okay. I needed to make sure you won't worry. They promised I will be home as soon as it's safe for me.”

  “I'm so relieved to hear that. I love you, Lily.”

  “I love you too, Mom. I won't be able to call Dad, can you let him know how much I love him? Seth and Cody as well?”

  “Of course.”

  “Bye, Mom.” I hang up before hearing her response, wiping away a fallen tear.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah. I hate that I'm causing them stress and worry.”

  “You didn't cause this, I did.” Anger flashes across Jay's face and he falls back onto the headboard. “I'm so fucking pissed at myself for letting you in. If anything had happened to you...” his voice cracks
and he can't seem to get the last few words out.

  I can't stop myself from comforting him. I crawl onto his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. Jay's body stiffens and he pushes me back.

  “Don't. I don't deserve your comfort.” His hands reach for my hips and he gets up to plant me down on my bed. Thunder forms in his eyes as he towers over me, “You think you want to know more about me? Fine,” he lifts up his shirt, revealing the angled scar across his stomach, “let's see how much comfort I deserve after you hear how I fucking got this.” He backs up until his legs hit his bed and plops down.

  “I was sixteen, and a young man not much older approached my dad with a job. He explained that a few years before, he had escaped an illegal underground cage fighting racket. The sick part of these fights was they convinced young, troubled, misguided boys to fight. They wanted boys no one would notice or care had gone missing. It wasn't until they were in the cage they found out it was to the death. The young man who escaped had killed dozens of boys, and when he got out he vowed to take down the man who ran the fights and his henchmen. He tried bringing them down legally, but nothing ever stuck. The leader had been doing it for far too long, and had enough wealth and connections to not get caught. That's why he came to my dad, but the guy didn't have much money. My dad was the third guy he tried to hire. He only had thirty-thousand to offer, and a hit that size...” Jay chuckles and rubs his head, “No hit is done for that little, at least not the men I've met. My dad turned him down, but the story bothered me. I wanted to help him. When he left, I tracked him down and told him I'd do the job. I thought I was trained enough to handle it on my own. By that time I had watched my dad on countless jobs, and helped him out a few times too.

  “I figured the best way to get close to my target was to become one of his fighters. I staged a fight outside a building he had a meeting at, making sure he saw the whole thing. Naturally, he had a few of his men follow me, so I lead them to the place I was pretending to live homeless. He offered me a chance to make good money fighting. It wasn't until my first fight and I was out in the ring that he informed me it was to the death – I already knew that but pretended to be shaken up by it. I easily fought that night and won.”