He finally looks at me, and the torment in his eyes rips me apart, “He was a fucking child. Thirteen, maybe. I'm not proud of what I did, Lily. I’m fucking ashamed of it.
“The next night I killed another boy with even more ease.” Jay stops and goes back to staring at the nightstand. I can tell he's too ashamed to look at me, and I have a hard time not moving to sit next to him. After several minutes he continues, “For my next fight, they gave my opponent a knife to add more excitement to it. They wanted to throw me off and have a better show for the spectators. The boy cut me; that's how I got the scar. It hurt like a motherfucker. It was my first serious injury and it blinded me for a second, but I was trained well and went into autopilot. I was able to get the weapon away from the boy and finish him off. The crowd went wild at the bloody mess me and the dead boy had made. That's when things got crazy as fuck. I was in pain from the cut and tired as hell from fighting, but that didn't stop them from throwing in another boy. They had given him a pipe and he tried beating me with it, but I escaped any serious blows. I got hold of the somewhat bent pipe and I used my thigh to further bend it. I used it to choke the boy from behind. The second another boy entered I threw the pipe at him like it was a fucking boomerang and it smacked him in the head, dead instantly from the force of impact,” he sighs and swipes his head, expression tormented as his past demons swim in his eyes. “The crowd went crazy for me. That's how I attained the name Link. Between the boomerang shaped scar on my stomach and the way I used that bent pipe to kill those boys it earned me that name,” he says earned with total disgust and hatred.
“I don't get what that has to do with being called Link?” I keep my voice low and neutral, still trying to process the kind of life Jay had to endure at such a young age.
“There's a famous video game, and Link, the main character, does some crazy things with a boomerang. They thought they were fucking geniuses for coming up with that nickname,” Jay sounds even more disgusted. Now I see why he hates that name so much. I'm sure every time someone uses it it makes him remember what he did to get it.
Jay has now gone to looking at his hands while he continues the story, “After the fight, his men brought me to an empty room in the back of the abandoned warehouse the fight was held. They had someone clean me up and then the leader came to congratulate me. He offered to give me more freedom if I would fight for him on a broader scale. I sat and talked with him as though I was interested. When he came to give me a handshake to seal the deal, that's when I got him. I was able to easily maneuver around him and snap his neck. I got hold of his gun, killing his two guards in a matter of seconds. I jumped through the glass window behind me to escape – that's where the tiny scars on my front come from – and as I was making my escape, one of his men shot two bullets in my back. That's when my dad showed up with a car. I've never before or after seen him that fucking pissed. His skin was on fire as he drove us the hell out of town. He couldn't believe I'd taken on a job behind his back and put my life in danger. Looking back, I realized how young and stupid I was.
“Killing those boys fucked me up pretty badly, until I made contact with the young man who had hired me and found out about the handful of boys that were rescued. I had the guy keep his money, and he used it to help the remaining boys start a life for themselves. I even sent him most of the money I had saved. Not saying that makes what I did right, but it helped me not to feel like utter fucking scum for what I'd done.”
I sit and watch Jay playing with his fingers as I absorb his story.
After some time, he stands up and starts rummaging through our bags, “Now do you understand? I don't deserve comfort or someone like you.”
“I'm not saying I condone killing, but what you did saved a lot of boys from sharing the same fate. I don't know anyone who would have done what you did.”
“Yeah, because most people have a fucking conscience and don't have the stomach to kill a teenage boy. I knew what I had to do the first night I stepped foot in that ring.”
I went over to him and placed my hand on his arm, “Jay, look at me.”
“I need a shower,” he states gruffly, refusing to turn around.
As he goes to the bathroom and starts to close the door, I step closer and tell him, “Thanks for sharing a part of your past with me.”
“I wish I could tell you everything,” Jay says from the other side, “ but I don't want you hating me any more than you already do.”
I start to tell him that I could never hate him, but Jay speaks before I do, “Remember when you found that boomerang in my kitchen drawer? Well, that was a gift from The Marker. He sent it to me once he heard what I had done and my nickname that doesn't seem to want to go the fuck away. He sent it to me to antagonize me; everything’s a fucking game to him.”
Jay opens the door. His eyes are bloodshot and his brows seem permanently burrowed together, “I don't want you knowing about my facial scars or saying his name because it hurts too fucking much to have you be aware of him. His name on those perfect lips,” his fingers graze across my mouth, “it kills me.”
He takes a deep breath before dropping his fingers from my lips and retreating back inside the bathroom.
As soon as I hear the water running, I curl back into bed and cry freely. I cry for Jay and the kid he never got to be. I cry for how lost and alone he must have felt for most of his life. I cry because he doesn't realize the amazing man he could be, if only he can forgive himself and move on from his past.
Chapter 26
Wednesday, January 22
1:27am
A loud ringing has me on high alert and my body bolts up to a stiff sitting position, heart pounding out of my chest.
“It's okay Lily, you're safe.” My eyes make out Jay's silhouette in the dark, illuminated by the laptop's screen, “It's only Quake’s phone. Stay quiet while I answer it.”
Jay turns it on but remains silent. I can faintly hear a voice talking through the speaker. “What did you expect would happen? I'd come happily along, skipping to greet you with open arms?...Of course I fucking killed them. You don't try and come after me like that, I don't respond well to threats. Don't forget who fucking raised me,” Jay's voice is low but he is seething. It's evident in the waves of fury rippling off him, vibrating his vocals, “Who else has this information? Don't you dare fucking lie to me or I will be coming for you, and I'll make sure your death is slow and painful...Oh, Lazra,” he sighs, turning his voice syrupy, but there is no mistaking the menacing undertone, “you know I don't make idle threats, and you know what I'm capable of.”
This Jay has my hairs sticking up and fear prickling my skin. He has transformed into a man I hardly recognize; this is definitely 'Killer Jay'.
There is a long pause while Jay listens, and the air around us has turned heavy and thick. “How about you tell me who has this information and I agree not to kill you instead?...Fuck The Marker!...You don't know shit...” Jay lets out a loud, animalistic growl that makes my skin crawl and pinch together. “What exactly is it you want me to do?” Jay shoots up to standing and starts pacing the room, “So let me get this straight: you get your goons to find me, stalk my girlfriend, kidnap her, all for a fucking dagger!?” Jay holds the phone out and is roaring into it. How messed up is it that I smiled when he said girlfriend? “Of course I'm still in fucking contact with him...no, I wouldn't have...fine...if you keep your word I won't kill you...done. I'll contact you when I have it.”
Jay lets out another roar, throwing the phone against the wall with such force it shatters into pieces on the carpet. “Fucking bitch!” He growls under his breath. His hands are now at his hips, head hung low as he paces all around the room.
“Am I allowed to ask what that was about?” Jay ignores me and continues his crazy loops around the room.
After ten minutes he stops next to me and leans over so his knuckles rest on the bed, his face inches from mine. I suck in my breath because it's too dark for me too tell the mood his eyes are in.
“I need you to give me your word that until I get you safely home, you follow every order I give to you without hesitation.” I nod. “No, say it. I need to hear you say it and mean it.”
“I promise, Jay. I won't hesitate,” I swear it from the bottom of my heart.
“Good, now go back to sleep. We need to get an early start.” He backs to his bed, pulling up his laptop. I fall asleep to the clicking of his keyboard, too exhausted to let my burning questions keep me awake for once.
5:15am
“Wake up, time to go,” Jay says shaking my body. I let out a groan of protest, my eyes too heavy with sleep to open. “Up!” He demands, slapping my ass over the covers.
“Alright, geez.” I sit up, yawning and stretching out my arms, “Where are we headed?”
“San Francisco.”
“Really?” I hop out of bed, “I've never been there!” Excited adrenaline floods through my system, fully awakening me.
“This isn't a vacation, Lily,” Jay sternly reminds me, and I notice he's already dressed in his uniform of jeans, gray shirt, black combat boots, and shades. “We are going there to get what Laz wants so I can get you home.”
I pull out my new clothes, “I know, but I’m still excited to at least see glimpses of it. How are we getting there?”
“Private jet,” he smirks, and I think he knows a squeal is about to escape me.
“Seriously?!” And yes, I squeal when I say it.
His smirk changes to an amused grin, “Seriously. I had to get us one because we don't have enough time to drive, and you have no identification to fly on a commercial aircraft.”
“Plus, I'm sure they won't allow the weapons you've stockpiled.”
He grins, “There's that too.”
“Won't that cost a fortune?”
“Don't worry, I can afford it.”
“Because of what you do?”
“No, because of the money my dad left me. He never spent more than the essentials and invested the rest.”
“Are you rich?”
“Depends on who's standards.”
“Hundreds of thousands? Millions?”
“Sure. Now get dressed.” I can tell by the shift in his tone that this conversation is over.
I go into the bathroom, “Can I take another shower?” I ask through the closed door.
“If it's quick. I want to be at the airport by six.”
“I can definitely manage that. Thanks, Jay.”
“Lily?” I hear the thump of what I assume is Jay's forehead on the door.
“Yeah?”
“Don't forget your promise from last night, okay?” I can't stop the tug at my heart from how distressed he sounds.
“I haven't, and I won't,” I open the door and my assumption is correct; Jay's body sways a bit from the door opening. I want to look him in the eyes when I say this and make sure he can see my unwavering guarantee, “I will never mistrust your loyalty to keep me safe again, you have my word.”
Jay takes hold of the sides of my face with his massive hands and connects our foreheads, “Thank you.”
“You had your reasons for letting me in and I have mine. Despite everything that has happened or will happen, it was all worth it for that small, perfect moment in time that irrevocably changed me, that saved me. That's the Jay I'm trusting my life with, the man that saved me and brought me back to myself. The man I believe is who you truly are, the one who made love to me and made me feel valued. The Jay who taught me to stand up for myself and find my voice. That's the Jay I'm promising, the Jay I trust to keep me alive.”
“I can't be him for you anymore. I need to stay focused.”
“You're being him right now. I'm not asking you to pretend for me. I'm only telling you which Jay is the reason I'll leap off the Golden Gate Bridge if he tells me to, without hesitation. Not the contract killer Jay, or the Jay who seeks revenge, but the man who lives in here,” I place my hand over his heart. “The man you pretend you aren't but I know is the real you. The man you would be if your mom had never died. I don't have to have known her to know the love and kindness she must have given to you.”
Jay's eyes are closed as we remain forehead to forehead, his hands still on my face, mine on his chest, one placed over his heart. His breathing has deepened, and after I watch it rise and fall for the seventh time I start to back away. Jay's fingers curl into the edges of my hair, locking me in place. His lips crash against mine, roughly at first, but when I part my lips and our tongues collide it becomes gentle, sensual caresses of lips to lips, tongue to tongue.
Jay is the first to break contact. I've never been any good at denying my desires for him.
“Take your shower. I'll get our stuff together.” He leaves me dazed and half drunk with wanting more. I put two fingers to my lips, relishing in how they tingle. Oh my, I’ve missed his kisses and the state of bliss they leave me in.
Chapter 27
6:30am
We don't arrive at the small, private airport on time because Jay has the taxi driver stop at Target. He bought us each a pay-as-you-go phone, and he got a San Francisco Giants baseball cap.
“It's smaller than I thought it would be,” I say once inside. The small aircraft only has four over sized leather seats, two on each side, facing each other with a table in the middle. Behind the chairs is a private swinging door for the flight attendants.
Jay makes a “humph” sound, “Sorry the private jet I rented isn't good enough for you.”
I whip around and am relieved to see the playful twinkle in his eye. For a second I thought I had insulted his ego – you never know with men.
“I'm not complaining, I just hope size doesn’t matter and it will still deliver a full VIP treatment.”
Jay takes a glass of champagne that a stewardess brought over, “Here, drink this. Size won't matter as much and you'll have the ride of your life.”
“Is that a guarantee?” I flirt back, taking a sip of champagne.
The stewardess interrupts us to ask if we are ready to take off, and I try not to pout that our fun little moment together is ruined. I like playful Jay.
“Yeah, give us 15 minutes. I need to use the Internet.”
“I'll let the Captain know.”
“Can I get you more champagne Mrs. Lincoln?”
I hate the way I blush at her misunderstanding, but I don't correct her, “Yes, please.”
Jay has already taken a seat and I choose the one across from him, wanting to clearly see his face. He has the table out between us and he is taking our phones out of the packages and turning on his laptop. I watch him set the phones up. He slides one across the table to me.
“My number is in it. Keep it with you at all times. If for whatever reason we get separated, don't call until you know you are out of harm's way, and always have the gun I gave you.”
“Yes, boss.” I put the phone into my pocket, “I'd say it's kinda handy having one of these.”
Jay rolls his eyes and holds up a finger, “One good example, but for the first time I'm glad they exist.”
He puts away his laptop and buckles for take-off.
As the plane ascends, I observe Jay and the white knuckle, iron grip he has over the arm rest, eyes tightly closed together, every wrinkle on his forehead exposed.
“Are you afraid of flying?” I'm astounded, I didn't think Jay had a fear of anything. He doesn't respond, but I watch all the color drain from his skin as the plane climbs higher. It's hard to hold back the huge smile that wants to come out, but I don't want Jay seeing me finding humor over this. I pucker my lips in and suppress any urges to make some sort of wisecrack.
“Stop it, I feel you wanting to smile,” he says, his voice a little shaky and childlike.
“It surprises me that you have any fears.”
“Let's keep this between us, okay?”
“We wouldn't want to ruin your reputation,” I tease and Jay scowls at me, eyes still clenched tightly together. “Your Achilles H
eel is safe with me.”
This causes Jay to laugh, “I'm not even going to get into the irony of that last remark.”
The captain announces that we are free to roam.
Jay lets out the the biggest puff of air I have ever heard or felt – my hair feels windblown from it.
“So if we start to crash, I'm guessing it's my job to save us?”
“Yup.”
The stewardess comes over with another glass of champagne for me. I could get used to this.
“You ever play cards, Jay?”
“What, like poker? What guy hasn't?”
I gesture for the attendant, “Are there any cards on board?”
She promptly returns with two decks.
I pull them out and shuffle, “No, not poker. I suck at almost any game a casino has to offer. I was meaning more like Kings Corner or Spite and Malice?”
This causes Jay to laugh again, “Figures.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It figures you'd like playing some sweet, cute little game.”
My mouth drops open and then I snap it shut. I try to muster up my best poker face, “I take it you've never played Spite and Malice before?”
Jay scratches his scruff, “Can't say that I have.”
“Well, where poker may be a game of bluffing and skill, this one, well...the name speaks for itself.”
I can tell by his expression he still thinks we are about to play a game that resembles Sorry or another cheesy but entertaining family game. Maybe it is, but he's never played an Evans before, and we play dirty.
10:36am
We are still playing cards and Jay is really getting into it. It's taking everything I have not to jump over the table and clobber him; he's too adorable when he lets his walls down.
As we descend I kick Jay's foot and he can barely open an eye at me.
“Put your legs all the way out.” I love that he does what I ask without hesitation. His long legs make it easy for me to tangle ours together, “It will be okay, Jay. We're in this together.”
Marked. Part I: The missing Link Page 19
