Thousands

by Pepper Winters

  Sentences like I always knew our time together was temporary—just like you.

  And This is goodbye, Elder.

  They were too violently excruciating to accept.

  Instead, I looked at the scribble over Pimli- at the bottom and froze.

  Goddammit, could the pain get any worse?

  I crumpled up her note, doing my best to hide what I’d seen—what she’d given me—but the six little letters of her signature burned upon my retinas.

  Not the name given to her by misfortune.

  But her true name.

  The name Selix had told me yesterday when he’d informed me of the location of Pim’s mother. The name I’d known and hadn’t told her—even as I demanded more of her heart than I could ever deserve.

  Tasmin.

  “Fuck.” I hung my head, balling the letter tighter with rage. She hadn’t enlightened me on her last name, but it didn’t matter.

  I knew that, too.

  I’d stolen her right to tell me, and it made me a shitty human being.

  Tasmin Blythe.

  The psychology student from West London with good grades, a lonely existence, and perfect behaviour as a role model daughter to one of the most prolific criminal psychologists in the United Kingdom.

  Selix had been the one to find out, but I hadn’t stopped there.

  I’d turned to Google, and instead of asking Pim everything I wanted to know, I once again stooped to stalking. I’d read her letters to No One, and now I’d read facts written about her online by third parties.

  No matter what information Google gave me, it hadn’t given me an ounce of what I’d learned by living with her. Google could tell me about the night of her abduction. It could deliver missing person reports, newspaper articles of this shining rising star, and how police had no leads. But it couldn’t tell me what she smelled like, laughed like, moaned like. It couldn’t teach me the way her eyes widened when I gave her a compliment or how her teeth indented her lower lip as I kissed her throat.

  But Google had told me things Pim didn’t know herself. A few months after her kidnapping, more documents appeared, but this time, they focused on her mother. The mother who was suddenly thrust into the limelight, eclipsing her daughter’s disappearance with her own heinous actions.

  I had it all wrong.

  I thought I wanted information. That I wanted every secret and hidden agenda. However, gaining that knowledge from a computer screen was hollow and woefully unsatisfying.

  What I truly wanted was Pim. I wanted the beauty of her voice as she told me about her studies. I wanted the perfection of her face as she reminisced about childhood pets or favourite places.

  Pim had started as my charity case and ended up meaning so much more. She left before I could tell her why I needed her so goddamn much.

  You could go after her.

  I knew her home address.

  I’d used Google Earth to study her old apartment. I’d used street view to walk the same cobblestone alleys she had before she’d been taken.

  I could go there and wait for her. Or I could march through Monaco and find her and tell her the truth about what her mother did and what it meant for her future.

  But if I did, there was no way in hell I could let her go again. There would be no safety net in sight. No happy ending. Only me living a life of sexual frustration while she remained lonely and rejected.

  She’d left.

  If I could somehow do the same, it might be exactly what we needed to survive each other.

  I stood by the bed, waiting for an epiphany on what to do.

  Chase her.

  Forget her.

  Claim her.

  Abandon her.

  One, two choices.

  One, two decisions.

  One, two potential disasters.

  I wished I had a third option just to balance out the tic inside my skull.

  The crazy counting wouldn’t stop; I rubbed my temples. Pim had done this to me. I wished I had the ability to turn off emotion. I wished I could walk away from her as she’d just walked away from me.

  My legs screamed to hunt her down and drag her back—kicking and screaming if it came to that. But even as I entertained the idea of chasing her through downtown Monte Carlo, an irrefutable depression settled.

  She’d made the decision for both of us.

  She’d been the one to have the guts and look into the future and only see decimation.

  It was over.

  Done.

  Finished.

  That’s the way it has to be.

  I hated it. I mourned it. I already felt myself breaking apart.

  Throwing her letter across the room, I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialled Selix.

  He answered on the first ring. “I know, I know. I’m running late. Almost there.”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore.” My voice was shattered glass.

  Selix paused. “What’s happened?”

  That question couldn’t be answered in my current state. “I hope to God you got the tin I asked for from my bedside drawer.”

  “Got the tin.”

  My shoulders slouched, already tasting the sickly smoke of a joint. I didn’t have the power to calm my riotous thoughts, but weed surely would.

  “Good,” I said. “Tell Jolfer we’re leaving the moment we return.”

  “Already ahead of you. The captain has the yacht fully stocked with food and fuel. He’s ready to leave when you are.”

  “Fine.”

  When I didn’t hang up or give more instruction, Selix asked, “Anything else?”

  “Yes, Pimlico ran off.”

  Christ, I didn’t mean to sound so fucking gutted. Stupid voice betraying me. Stupid heart screwing me over. Stupid fucking universe putting her in my path.

  “You going to find her?” Selix’s tone was quiet...unpresumptuous, but it still set my hackles on edge.

  Yes.

  No.

  I don’t fucking know.

  “Just...come get me. I’ve waited long enough. I need to be on the ocean.”

  “I’m literally two streets away. Traffic was a bitch.” He cleared his throat, about to over step the line he loved testing. “Look, if my opinion is worth anything, I think it’s a good thing she’s gone. No longer your problem.”

  Now that I’ve tasted her, she’ll forever be my problem.

  Selix didn’t need to hear that. “I never liked your opinions. This time is no different. Shut up and drive. The sooner we’re off this godforsaken soil, the better.”

  “Guess I’ll let the Hawks know your plus one is no longer needed.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Selix chuckled. “Hey, I could always go as your date.” A car horn sounded before he added, “Look, here’s another opinion you probably won’t like. You’re still sailing to England. Want me to find her and stow her on board? You wouldn’t have to see her. I’d keep her away. At least then you’d know she’s back where she belongs and you could truly forget about her. Your part would be done.”

  I shook my head even as Selix’s proposal spread like wildfire. “You know as well as I do she has no one there to take her in. Her mother—”

  “I know,” he interrupted. “But fuck that. I’m sure she has other family.”

  She doesn’t.

  Same as me.

  And that was yet another crucifix to bear.

  I didn’t want to hear any more.

  Pim had made her choice.

  I was making mine.

  She was on her own.

  It didn’t matter I would forever carry a hole where she was concerned. I wouldn’t hurt her again. She’d earned her freedom. England or Monaco—her fate would be the same in any country as she no longer had a home.

  She would make a new one somewhere far from me.

  From Alrik.

  From everyone.

  “Enough of your damn opinions, Selix. Bring me that tin. Never mention her name again, forget she ever exis
ted. I expect to set sail within the hour. You can’t do that? You’ll be swimming with the goddamn fish.”

  Chapter Two

  ______________________________

  Pimlico

  TWO DAYS AGO, walking the streets had been an adventure.

  I’d had Bill and Lance shadowing me—giving me courage because they worked for Elder, and Elder was my guardian angel. When someone jostled me, I didn’t get scared. When a man stepped in front of me, I didn’t panic.

  Today had been completely different.

  I’d spent the day all alone.

  Vulnerable, lost, afraid.

  Men smiled, and all I saw were monsters.

  Women laughed, and all I saw were victims.

  Morning had turned to afternoon, and I’d walked listlessly, heart-bruised, and happy-broken, second-guessing my rash decision to leave Elder.

  No matter what street I took or direction I chose, I couldn’t stop myself from looking over my shoulder...hoping.

  Hoping he’d stalk around a corner and scold me for leaving such a note. Wishing he’d appear around a bend and kiss me stupid for ever thinking I had enough willpower to stay away.

  Minutes had turned to hours, and those silly fantasies went unanswered.

  He never appeared.

  And I never turned back.

  I’d left for his sake. I’d run away to heal him. I thought I was selfless enough to do it, but as afternoon morphed to evening and evening darkened to midnight, I wondered what new level of imbecility I’d risen to.

  Didn’t I deserve to be safe and cared for?

  Didn’t I earn the right to love and be loved in return?

  He doesn’t love you.

  I rubbed at the ice freezing my skin. Elder had never told me how he felt. For all I knew, I was still just a conquest, and my leaving would be met with relief instead of misery.

  You know that’s not true.

  But I had no willpower to convince myself because if I did...what would prevent me from running back to him and forcing him to live in agony all because I couldn’t imagine my life without him?

  No.

  I won’t do it.

  My thoughts (no matter how scattered) were the only possessions I had as I continued to wander the streets of Monte Carlo. I had no luggage, no blankets, no money to trade unwelcoming footpaths for sympathetic beds.

  This was my penance for telling a man he’d earned my heart only to walk out the door without a goodbye. My empty stomach daren’t growl because it deserved to have no fuel. My arthritic bones daren’t complain because they brought such discomfort on themselves. And I definitely didn’t allow the piercing laments of my heart to earn a single tear from me.

  This was my fault, and I would pay the price to prevent Elder from doing so.

  For an entire twenty-four hours, I lived in limbo.

  As the streets emptied of law-abiding holidaymakers and were replaced with alcohol-fermented partiers, I kept to the shadows and out of sight.

  Security guards patrolled outside their nightclubs and the police presence increased—protecting the rich and famous from bad decisions and terrible consequences.

  It was the longest night of my life. Not only because I had nowhere to sit down and rest, but because I never stopped moving to avoid the beady eyes of other night-walkers.

  This part of town had no homeless, and the glitz and finery wore down a piece of me I didn’t know I harboured: a certain kind of hate for wealth.

  I might’ve been brutalised, but my captivity had been in a beautiful mansion dripping with money. Then I’d been rescued and stowed on the Phantom where its very creation was all thanks to Elder’s underhanded dealings.

  I loved my bedroom on the Phantom, but until tonight, when I finally earned some grit beneath my sandals and dirt upon my hands, I’d forgotten what it was like not to have everything.

  To be surrounded by shop windows full of thousand-dollar dresses and not be able to afford them. To smell the scents of pricey dinners in exclusive restaurants and not be able to eat.

  Yet again, something else had been stolen from me: the value of things. Not that I ever took my living on the Phantom and all its luxuries for granted, of course, but for once, it was nice to worry about normal things—things Tasmin used to constantly fret over while Pimlico had forgotten by being kept as a toy.

  Things like hours passing and no way to tell the time. Concerns like itineraries and no way to get to where I needed to go. Problems like the mundaneness of life and being responsible for my own person.

  My thoughts kept me distracted from my flat feet and sore back as dawn slowly approached and prettily made-up women turned to tipsy makeup-smeared consorts, and men went from handsome devils to morally-corrupted scoundrels.

  Ducking out of the way of a domestic, and staying to the shadows to avoid the eyes of security guards, I poked at the open wound by leaving Elder. All night, I’d been a game of roulette as my mind spun the wheel and my choices between staying away and returning became the little white ball.

  Sometimes, that ball landed on red. Red...the colour of love, of passion, of blood and rage and lust.

  But sometimes, it landed on black. Black...the colour of desperation, of grief, of wrongness and hate and confusion and pain.

  Neither gave me an answer I could live with.

  Dawn crept to daybreak.

  I looked at the horizon and saw how far I’d walked.

  My heart hiccupped at the amount of distance I’d placed between Elder and me. My feet turned mutinous, wanting to go backward rather than forward.

  All I wanted to do was kneel before him and promise I’d never again ask him to touch, kiss, or bed me. If that was the sacrifice for his friendship and protection, then so be it. I would pay it lifetimes over.

  If I did that, I could be with him right now.

  I could be sailing out to sea.

  Safe.

  Warm.

  In love.

  Who cared if he never touched or kissed me again?

  He was safe.

  And safe was worth so much more to me than romance.

  Isn’t it?

  I hated that my answer was no longer clear cut.

  He’d spoiled me. He’d shown me that safety only came from trust, and trust had the unnerving ability to create affection, which morphed into lust and somehow blossomed into love.

  You didn’t leave for you.

  That reminder—that righteous thorn in my side—gave me strength.

  I can do this.

  For him.

  Inhaling hard, I strode onward.

  * * * * *

  Late afternoon, and I still hadn’t left the limbo of heartache.

  I hadn’t come up with a plan. I hadn’t done anything but mope.

  The hungrier and more tired I became, the more the crowds caused cold sweat to trickle down my spine. Sunshine burned me as if I was an ant under a magnifying glass. Every pair of eyes was malevolent.

  The streets slithered this way and that, deeper into chaos.

  I had no idea where I was going. I had no clue how I would find money to return to England or how I would track down my mother.

  With every step, I hunkered down a little more, curling around the emptiness inside.

  However, as hunger pains took precedent, my mind stopped torturing me with images of Elder and focused on survival. I needed money. For food, shelter, and transport. I needed a passport to cross the borders. I needed a miracle to achieve such things.

  Or the sticky fingers Elder had taught me to wield.

  The thought of stealing wasn’t new. I’d deliberated all night, looking, despite myself, for easy opportunities. But now another day was here, and my throat was dry, and a headache pinched my eyes, and I finally had no choice. The luxury of being above such necessities had faded, and I sagged against a building, trying to stay out of the way of bustling pedestrians.

  I didn’t want to loiter like a criminal, but I also couldn’t kee
p walking with no direction.

  I needed to be smart.

  It was time to steal.

  Self-disgust filled me even as I settled in to study potential victims and find the rhythm of the city. I eyed laughing tourists and assessed sharp chinned businessmen. I did my best to recall everything Elder had taught me about pickpocketing.

  My fingers fanned out by my sides, willing to pilfer a wallet or purse but still so unskilled at being unseen.

  As much as I didn’t want to do this, I had two choices: steal enough to get home or put myself at the mercy of others. I would have to blindly trust that the police weren’t corrupt, good Samaritans weren’t evil, and whoever came next into my life wouldn’t abuse me.

  No.

  I couldn’t.

  I was too fragile. My confidence still so new. I couldn’t turn to another and trust. I had one person I trusted, and I’d run from him. The second best was me, myself, and I.

  And No One.

  No One...damn.

  The crippling in my chest was all thanks to Elder and his story about being called No One by his family.

  My journal would forever be linked to him.

  He’d ruined the only sanctuary I had.

  I missed him more than I could stand.

  What was he doing? Had he decided to hell with me and left? Had he stayed and tried to find me?

  Where I stood deep in the city surrounded by buildings and strangers, I couldn’t see the ocean. I couldn’t see the Phantom or the balcony where we’d stood side by side and faced the storm out to sea.

  I can’t see if he’s gone...

  Four girls walked past, two with gaping-open handbags and brightly coloured purses just begging to be looted.

  It was as if fate had given me direction and told me to stop mauling painful thoughts. If Elder had gone, so be it. If he was still here, that wasn’t my concern.

  I’d left because I loved him.

  And I would steal because I needed to take responsibility for myself again.

  Clutching my conviction, I pushed off from my resting place and followed.

  For the first few steps, I felt nothing. Then, the longer I committed to doing this, the more adrenaline drenched my veins. I turned jumpy and edgy and paranoid.

  I guessed the girls were in their early twenties, and judging by their tired faces from late nights and immaculate new clothing they were here to do some serious partying with unlimited shopping budgets.