by Alaska Jones
The beautiful image shatters in my mind’s eye, dumping me back into the gray reality. As if sensing the change in me, Jenna stirs and pushes her hair back from her face, tickling my skin. She looks up at me, and her eyebrows crawl up her forehead when she sees me staring.
“You’re awake.”
I blink a yes, studying her face in the pale light.
“Is something wrong?” she wonders. “You look…”
“Bad?”
“Sad,” she finishes uncertainly.
I force out a wry smile, sliding my hand to the small of her back as she sits up. “Everything’s fine.” It takes me a moment to come up with a change of topic. “How did you get out of the room when I passed out?”
“Oh…” she drops her gaze, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You dropped the keys, so all I had to do was grab them through the grid.”
“Hmm…” I nod my head, remembering that the keys were in my right hand and about five feet from the door before I passed out. It’s not like I’m surprised though, so I let it go. “Thanks. This is certainly better than sleeping on the floor. I can’t remember the last time I slept like…” I forget to finish the sentence when I remember the exact night I slept like this – when Jenna asked me to stay with her. Hm.
“How’s your arm?” She looks up at me again, avoiding my direct gaze.
“Good. How did you get the blood to stop?” I ask, pointing at the tiny bloody spot on the bandage.
“I sewed it up. We should probably change the dressings soon.”
“Really? You know how to treat gunshot wounds?”
“My dad’s a doctor. I saw him do all kinds of things.”
I purse my lips, nodding in approval. “We’ll change the dressings after I shower. I rolled like all over LA yesterday.” I try to get up, but she puts a hand on my chest.
“You never told me what happened. Who shot you?”
I wave my hand. “Some shitty sniper. Either Marquez has got some crazy-ass security there, or someone set me up. If it was Dwight, there will be more than one dead drug dealer.” I swing my feet off the bed, shaking my head. “And a dead sniper, too. The guy shot my damn car, of all things.” I rub a hand over my face and look up when I hear Jenna chuckle. “You think it’s funny?”
“What, the fact that you got shot, or that a hole in your car bothers you more than a hole in your body?”
“Four holes! And this’ll heal,” I point at my arm.
She shakes her head and slides off the bed with a wry smile. “You don’t mind if I go first? I’ll be quick.” She points at the bathroom door, and I shrug.
“Okay. I gotta make a call anyway.” I sway into the wall as I get up, and she rushes to my side. “I’m fine!”
“No, you’re not! I didn’t spend all night stitching you up so you’d pass out in the shower and smash your skull. You’re staying in bed today.”
“Now you’re just looking for an excuse to watch me shower again,” I mock her.
“I never watched you shower. But I will go in there with you if you don’t start taking this more seriously!”
“Fine, fine… I didn’t say I mind.” I smirk at her, and she stalks out of the room with a roll of her eyes.
The moment she turns the water on, I call Alabama.
“What happened?” he grumbles on the other end.
“Fuck, I forgot it’s early.”
“Nine is early. Six is a crime.” He sits up with a martyred groan. “I’m up. Speak.”
“I need Gia’s help again. I got set up yesterday, and I’ve got a day to find out someone’s address while I rest. Can she do that?”
“I don’t know, wait a sec.” I hear another voice in the background. “Yes, she can,” Al drawls, making me gag in surprise.
“You’re sleeping with her?”
“Why, I told you she’s not ugly. Ouch!” It sounds like he gets punched. I close my eyes and shake my head.
“How do you survive with half the female population of the city pissed at you, I’ll never know.”
“I like living on the edge. You should try it. Feel the burn!”
“I’ll pass. I got shot twice yesterday, and I did not care much for the burn.”
“Fascinating.” My getting shot is old news to Alabama. “Tell me what you need.”
“There’s this guy, Wayne Matthews, he’s Dwight’s driver slash bodyguard. If anyone knows something, it’s him. I know he lives somewhere in Granada Hills, but I need the exact address.”
“Wayne Matthews, Granada Hills…” Al repeats, probably writing it down. “Gia says she can do it tonight, but I’ll see what I can do to speed up the process.”
“I don’t wanna know.”
“You’re such a prude.”
“No, I’m not. Bye.”
“And stop getting shot!” he yells as I disconnect the call.
I strip the bloodied sheets off the bed while I wait for Jenna to finish showering, replaying yesterday’s events in my head. Some moments are more than a little blurry, but one thing I remember clearly, and that’s how Jenna handled the situation. I didn’t think she had it in her, but she seemed totally fine in the morning, all things considered.
The biggest blank spot is what we talked about when I woke up at night, because I remember her giving me the pills, myself feeling pretty delirious, and then it’s just a bunch of images and no sound. Asking her about it would be too awkward, so I shove the thought to the back of my head and hope I didn’t do anything stupid.
“Sorry, I forgot clean clothes.” I look up to find her standing by the bathroom door in a towel. The moment our gazes lock, she turns her eyes somewhere else, and I can’t help the feeling that there’s something off about her.
“You know, I can look at you in a towel without jumping on you,” I say, surprised by her apologetic tone.
“Um…” She narrows her eyes at me. “I meant, I need a couple more minutes in there, but thanks for letting me know.”
“Right.” I turn my back to her so she wouldn’t see my face while I inwardly kick myself. Repeatedly. It’s her fault, really, because I can’t think straight when my brain is busy keeping my eyes from slipping down to her wet shoulders and full breasts.
I get out of her way as she tiptoes to her bag, only to sigh when she can’t find what she’s looking for, with all the clothes messed up on the floor.
“Here, take this,” I offer her one of my T-shirts. She avoids my gaze while I avoid imagining her in those black panties and bra she’s holding.
“Thanks,” she grabs the shirt and hurries back to the bathroom.
I shake my head to clear it, groan at the vertigo, and head to the living room to get my laptop. The worst thing about yesterday’s disaster is that I have to track Hunt down all over again, and he’ll be careful this time. I’ll need a new plan if I don’t want to spend the next month still dealing with this mess.
“You shouldn’t be up.”
I turn at the sound of Jenna’s voice and shrug. “I’m okay.”
She catches my hand as I reach for the fridge door and presses her palm to my forehead. “You still have a fever. I’ll fix us something for breakfast, and you’ll heal faster if you rest.”
I nod my head just to avoid another argument. “Help me cover this thing so I don’t get any water on it.”
We go back to the bedroom, and I watch her open the silver case and take out a couple of rubber bands and a plastic sleeve. “Did I wake you up at night?”
She raises an eyebrow. “You mean that one time when I gave you the antibiotics? It’s no big deal.”
“It’s all kinda blurry. I don’t even remember what we talked about.”
“Nothing, really,” she says with a shrug, slipping a band onto my arm. “You just asked me to lock the doors.”
I breathe out in relief, seeing how she didn’t hide her eyes from me this time. “So it was just that one time?”
She pauses and looks me in the eyes. “Why are yo
u… Oh.”
“What?”
“Is this about your nightmares?”
“What?” I say again, confused.
“It’s okay, I heard you have one before. Not tonight though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not…” I start to shake my head, only to stop and frown. I got my answer already, after all. Nothing happened last night. “Did I wake you up? That other time, I mean.” The topic is awkward, but I need to know just how bad it is.
She checks the sleeve one more time and sighs, taking my hand absently. The small gesture is meaningless, but it still does all kinds of strange things to my body. I look down at her small palm and stroke it with my thumb before I can stop myself.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping,” she says. “How often do they happen?”
Stop encouraging her, the voice in my head orders me, but I hear myself replying all the same, “Every other night, if I dream at all.” My eyes are glued to our hands, so she puts her index finger under my chin and lifts my face to look me in the eyes.
“Do they have anything to do with your work?”
I blink. “What? No.” I almost snap at her, all of a sudden irritated, but her careful look and gentle touch stop me. Not being able to read her today is driving me crazy. Her thoughtfulness borders on sadness, and I have no idea what changed.
“Did you try talking to someone about it?”
“Yeah, it didn’t work out.”
“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again.”
“What’s the point, it won’t change anything.” I wave her off and get up on my feet. “Um… Thanks for this,” I point at my arm and grab a couple of painkillers on my way to the bathroom.
“You’re welcome.” She sounds remote, but then regains her patronizing tone. “Quick shower, Cage, or I’ll come to get you. And don’t make the water too hot!”
“Yes, ma’am!” I salute to her, only to smack myself inwardly the moment I close the door.
Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?
Chapter 22
Jenna
I watch him disappear behind the bathroom door and sigh. His mood swings couldn’t be more confusing. The last time we were in bed together, he made it clear that nothing was ever going to happen; and yet, he can’t keep his hands off of me.
Taking out clean sheets, I busy myself making the bed, but it’s not much of a distraction. Cage is a total puzzle today, and the last night’s realization is eating away at me, making me slow and distracted, as if my head is filled with thick syrup. There’s a heaviness in my heart that’s impossible to ignore, and yet, there’s not a thought in my head that could help me find a way out.
I jump when my phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand.
“Jenna?? What the hell, I called you five times already!” Tina’s panicked voice almost deafens me.
“God, it’s six o’clock, shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I’ve been worrying like crazy here!”
“Well, you shouldn’t! I told you I was alright. It’s not like I’m alone.”
“Oh, right,” she mutters snidely. “I forgot about him. No, wait: that’s all I’ve been thinking about, how my best friend’s holing up somewhere with the man who kidnapped her and doesn’t even care about being found!”
An angry sigh escapes my lips as I sit down, trying not to take it out on her. “I know where I am, Tina. I’ve decided to stay until it’s over.”
“You WHAT?”
“You heard me. Seriously, I’m not in the mood to argue with you now, so just let it go and trust me.”
“Oh, Jesus… Can I at least ask why?”
“Because I’m not ready to leave. Because I don’t have anywhere to go. I can’t just go somewhere alone and spend the next year constantly wondering about how it all ended and what happened to Cage. I’d go crazy, Tina. He tried to kick me out yesterday, but I stayed, and then he got shot. It’s all pretty messed up here, but somehow, I know I’m at the right place. I’ll be alright, don’t worry.”
Her sigh makes me feel bad about yelling at her. “I… Okay, I don’t wanna fight again, so I’ll just shut up about it. But I’m confused about it all. Are you sure it’s not just because you’re attracted to him?”
It takes me a second to decide whether I want to tell her or not. “I’m not just attracted to him, Tina.”
There’s a pause, and she gives a small groan. “Damn… Are you sure?” She must have heard the hopelessness in my voice, because I can’t imagine why else she would respond so calmly.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I hate the way it comes out, as if we’re talking about terminal illness or something.
“Did you two…?”
“No,” I answer instantly, shaking my head in frustration. God, that would’ve made things simpler… or not.
“How did it happen then? It’s only been a week.”
“I don’t know. He’s…” I growl in exasperation, struggling to translate feelings into words. “If you met him, I bet you’d understand. He’s just a man, Tina. What he’s doing is wrong, but it doesn’t change the way I see him. And he’s…” I trail off again, unable to say it out loud. Amazing? Gorgeous? Fascinating? One of a kind? Which one of these qualities is the reason I don’t care if I go to hell for this?
“I see… So what happened yesterday?”
The water stops running in the bathroom, making me pause. “Um… I’ll call you back. Can’t talk right now.”
“Wait! I forgot to tell you, Charlie said he thinks they found where you are.”
“No-no-no… Tell him to back off, ’cause I don’t want him to mess with Cage. I’m staying here for now anyway. I’ll call if I need his help.”
“Okay. Just don’t disappear again,” she grumbles, wringing the tiniest of smiles from me.
“I won’t. Bye.”
I put the phone back on the nightstand and focus on sorting out the pile of my things, putting them back into the wardrobe. After my conversation with Cage, there’s a hundred questions begging to be answered in my head, but I keep silent, remembering his obvious discomfort when I brought up the nightmares. A few minutes into changing the dressings on his arm – and trying not to drool all over his body – I find out that I’m not that good at masking my thoughts.
“You want to ask something?” he breaks the silence, looking genuinely curious.
Seated on the bed with his back up against the headboard, he waits patiently for me to finish the work, and my shaky hands are not helping. In the light of day, it all suddenly looks ten times scarier, and the questions in my head multiply by ten. The fact that he’s wearing only his gray sweats, and I can’t avoid touching him, but can’t touch him the way I want to, is turning it into a special kind of torture.
I suppress a sigh and put down the cotton pads that I’ve been fidgeting with. “Do sleeping pills help with nightmares?”
He blinks, surprised by the randomness of my question, and frowns slightly as he thinks about his answer. With his jaw cleanly shaved and his hair still wet, he looks so different, I can’t stop staring.
“Um… No, they just make me drowsy,” he replies at last, while I struggle with the urge to reach out and tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. He must have noticed the dumb look on my face, because he arches an eyebrow and asks, “Anything else?”
I look at his arm, before the need to press my lips to his face drives me crazy. “Is it supposed to be swollen like this?”
His gaze shifts down and left. “It’s a gunshot wound, Jenna.” His voice softens at my name, and I do not like the direction my thoughts turn when I hear it. “It’s actually healing quite well. What did you do to it?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing. I used some antiseptic ointment, but I didn’t know if there was anything else I should’ve used.” I point at the tube in the silver case, and he gives an approving nod, handing me another one.
“You did everything right. Try this one now.”
&nb
sp; “Okay.” His gray eyes hold my gaze, so I let another question slip from my lips, “What if it was your right arm?”
His shoulders lift and fall in a quick shrug. “I’d be pretty mad, ’cause that tattoo cost me a fortune.”
I hold back a smile. “I mean, you wouldn’t be able to use the rifle then, would you?”
“It depends. If worse came to worst, I could beat Hunt to death with it.” My eyes widen, before I realize it was a joke. “I didn’t mean to- ”
“It’s okay, I’m just…” I trail off, realizing that I have to tread carefully if I don’t want him to shut down. “I’m a bit drowsy, so I’m not thinking straight.” I turn my gaze to his arm and the bandage that I’m working on. “He’ll disappear again now, won’t he?”
“Yeah. I can find a way to lure him out. If he wanted to leave town, he would’ve done it by now.”
Nodding my head, I tie the ends of the gauze around his bicep and put everything back into the case. “It’s almost like something’s holding him here…” I flinch when Cage sits up straight all of a sudden. Eyes wide, he stares at me for a second before bolting to his feet.
“You’re a genius!” He’s gone before I can utter a sound, leaving me to stare at the door.
If this is what getting shot does to him, he was born for this job.
Chapter 23
Cage
“For the tenth time, I’m fine! I’ll be there and back. I just need to check on something.” A sharp pain shoots through my arm as I throw up my hands in irritation, and I wince, trying to ignore Jenna’s worried stare.
“You promised me you’d stay in bed at least a day! I don’t want another night like the last one,” she complains through the grid with an accusing look. The room is dark, and she looks like a disturbed ghost in the blue TV light.
