by J. E. Taylor
Jessica smiled a little. “I suppose.”
Chapter 64
Chris looked out at the moon rising over the city and smiled. He wasn’t going to pass up a Saturday night on the prowl, especially after the morning he had. He threw on his leather jacket, pocketed his keys and headed out to rid the city of some trash.
He wandered slowly through the park and when he heard the hammer click on the gun pointed in his direction, he laughed softly. He slowly turned to see the strung out kid that he had run into earlier in the week. The kid’s eyes went wide.
“You still trying to score?” Chris knew this kid wasn’t a killer, just a petty thief.
He nodded and the gun shook.
“Put the gun away.” He decided to see what would happen without using his power.
The kid lowered the gun and put the hammer back to its resting place.
“What’s your name?” Chris asked.
The kid looked around and then back at Chris. “Matt.”
Chris put his hand out. “Give me the gun, Matt.” Leaving it up to him to actually follow his request and when Matt handed him the gun, Chris smiled. He flipped the safety on and slid the gun in the waistline of his pants at the small of his back and pulled his jacket back down to hide it from view. “You need to get yourself into rehab. You’re too young to waste your life like this.”
The kid shuffled back and forth, his eyes darting around. “I just need a fix.”
Chris shook his head. “I’m not going to help you get that. But I will bring you to a place where you can dry out.”
“I don’t want to dry out.” He started to back away.
Chris tilted his head. “Yes you do.” He sent a little push.
Matt blinked a few times. “Okay.” He allowed Chris to lead him to a local drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility, where he checked himself in. Chris peeled off enough cash for Matt to complete his rehab and handed it to the receptionist.
“Who are you?” Matt asked in awe.
Chris smiled. “Just think of me as your guardian angel.” He turned to leave.
“Thanks, man.”
Chris looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Any time, kid.”
He left the facility and headed back toward the park. He didn’t think his next encounter would end as pleasantly as the one with Matt. He thirsted for the thrill of it, and just like Matt’s addiction, Chris was compelled by the high of ultimate control and before the night was over, he would feel that power again and the thrill wouldn’t be disappointing.
Chris swung by his apartment and dropped the gun on the counter. He ventured out again and jumped onto the train, heading into a crime-laden section of the Bronx. He was met with hostile glares as he got off the subway and headed up to the street.
“You lost, boy?” an old bum asked as Chris passed by him on the stairs.
“Nope,” Chris answered and continued on his journey without a second look.
It didn’t take very long for trouble to find him and when he felt the tip of the knife touch his side, he pushed the power outward, sending the knife and his assailant flying. He turned and looked at the man who tried to stab him.
He scrambled away from Chris, his eyes wide with fear and he grabbed for the discarded knife on the pavement.
“I wouldn’t try that again if I were you.”
“What the hell are you, man?” He stood, holding the knife in front of him, pointed at Chris.
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” Chris said and probed inside the man’s mind finding the justification that he was looking for. The power shot out like an invisible hand and wrapped around the thug’s neck, cutting his air off. The man turned blue and his body shook with oxygen-starved spasms. Chris sent out another jolt and the man’s neck snapped, instantly killing him.
Chris walked away leisurely with a smile on his face. He continued his stroll down the streets until he heard something in the alley ahead. Fearlessly, he entered the dark path between the buildings, dodging the trash bins and garbage strewn on the ground. The alley’s dead end held five men beating the crap out of a younger man.
Leaning against the corner of the building, he crossed his arms. “You might want to ease up there,” he said, startling them.
The younger man looked up through swollen eyes at Chris as his legs gave out under him. He fell to the ground, drawing their attention back to him. One of the men went to kick him and the snap of his knee filled the sudden silence and he burst out screaming, crumbling to the ground holding his useless leg. The rest of the men looked at him, stunned to inaction.
Chris walked up to the younger man and helped him up while the rest of the crew stepped to help their fallen comrade. He gave them a warning glare and started out of the alley with the beaten man. Chris heard a sound he was beginning to be familiar with and turned his head in the direction of the thugs.
“You really don’t want to do that,” he growled low in his throat as he looked down the barrel of a 9-millimeter.
“We don’t have a beef with you, but that boy there, we aren’t finished with him.”
“Yes, you are.” Chris turned his back to them. The report of the gun was lost in the rush of scorching air he let loose. The bullet never reached him and the man holding the gun never knew what ended his life so abruptly, neither did the other four standing behind him.
The beaten man looked back at the swirl of dust in the alley. “What happened to him?” he mumbled through his swollen bleeding lips.
“Dust.” Chris offered no more explanation. “What did you do?” Chris asked as he helped the man to the far corner.
“Wrong place, wrong time,” the man said, causing Chris to study him closer.
“Bullshit.” The man tried to pick pocket one of those men and he was trying to do the same to Chris. “And I wouldn’t touch my wallet if you know what’s good for you.”
The man pulled away and looked at Chris closely. “Who are you?”
“I’ve been referred to as the Angel of Death a time or two,” he smiled, amused by the analogy given his recent adventures. “But tonight you can consider me your own personal guardian angel,” Chris said and checked his pocket. His wallet was still there. “Just stay out of trouble,” he warned and walked off into the night shrouded in fog.
Chris wandered down into a more residential area of the Bronx. A child screaming caught his attention and he turned toward a house with open windows. The child kept repeating, “Daddy, please don’t hit me.” Chris could see enough in the front window and when the man belted the boy, sending him across the room, Chris flashed back to his own childhood.
It was rare for Ty and his stepfather, Jacob Aris, to be alone together at the house, never mind bonding in any fashion, however, on this particular Sunday they were watching an intense match- up between the Buffalo Bills and the Denver Broncos. Both cheering for the Bills and adding colorful commentary to the game. It was fourth quarter and the Bills were trailing by a field goal with less than two minutes on the clock.
Buffalo was making a run down the field when Jacob decided he wanted another beer. “Get me a beer,” he ordered from his recliner.
Ty hesitated, his eyes still glued to the television.
“Go get me a beer!”
The fun of the day ended abruptly when Ty glanced at his stepfather. The mean spirited glare told him that this wasn’t a request that could wait and Ty got up, moving as fast as he could to grab the last beer from the refrigerator so he could see the rest of the game. As he approached the chair, the beer slipped from his hand smashing on the hardwood floor capturing Jacob’s attention.
“You stupid son of a bitch!” Jacob shot out of the chair and swept the bottle neck off the floor approaching Ty, his hand curling into a fist as the fury took hold.
When Jacob swung, Ty ducked.
Jacob stumbled forward and his fist caught nothing but air, his second attempt was more focused and caught Ty in the chest, sending him onto the floor.
&nb
sp; His head bounced with a thump on the hard wood and stars filled Ty’s vision. When his eyes focused again, they widened in terror. The sharp edge of the bottle was an inch away from his eye and Jacob’s knee pressed against his chest pinning him to the floor.
“You little shit! You broke my last beer!” The sharp point of the bottle moved closer to Ty’s eye with every angry word.
When Jacob raked the glass down his face, ripping the skin from under his eye to just below his jaw bone, the pain was worse than anything Ty experienced in his young life. A wail of a scream barreled out of his chest.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jacob bellowed and stood, towering over Ty, pointing his finger in Ty’s direction. “Next time you’d better not drop my drink.”
He pressed his hand to his burning cheek, tasting the coppery slick blood as it oozed into his mouth through his severed skin. His vision tripled and he pulled his hand away. Blood dripped off his palm making his stomach lurch.
His hand returned to his cheek, to where the scar had been, that vivid feature that disappeared five years ago with Eric’s magic and his stomach rolled.
The man in the house swung at the child again and Chris let the power loose as the fury came back full force. The man inside the house exploded into a million tiny bloody pieces.
Chris turned and walked away, shaken by both the memory and the strength of the power he let loose. He could still hear them screaming from a block away.
He slipped down to a subway station and headed back to his Manhattan apartment. The gun still sat on the countertop in his entryway and he stared at it and for the first time in his life, the thought of ending it all entered his mind. He picked up the gun and looked into the barrel thoughtfully.
How many people have I killed in my lifetime? What’s one more?
He looked at the shroud of night over the city and back at the gun with a measure of indecision. The autograph Emily inscribed on his cast caught his eye and Chris slowly put the gun back down.
He walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the railing.
“What the hell am I doing?”
Chapter 65
“Chris?”
Chris rolled over in his bed. He didn’t want to talk with her, the events from last night too fresh in his mind and she would know the moment she saw him. He closed his eyes again and rolled onto his stomach, ignoring her.
“Come on, I know you’re awake.”
He looked back toward the bathroom and sighed. “I’m coming,” he mumbled and rolled out of bed. “What?” He looked sleepily at her reflection.
She blinked and stepped back, her eyes scanning his bare chest and then jumping back to meet his face. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” He looked away from her swirling calico eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just had a rough night,” he replied without looking at her, his mind going back to the gun.
Her eyes widened. “Please don’t!”
“Don’t what?” he asked meeting her gaze, not knowing whether she was referring to the thoughts of suicide that went through his mind or the fact that he had killed again.
She stepped forward and transcended into his bathroom, taking his hands. “Don’t even think about it. I would miss you.”
He pulled her close. “I don’t know if I can live without you in my life,” he whispered, letting her into his mind, into his tortured soul. He wrapped his arms around her and put his head down on her shoulder in submission.
Jessica held onto him and closed her eyes, broadcasting thoughts of her own. I’m not sure I can either, but that’s what has to happen when this is done. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her own bathroom.
Chris stared at her in the mirror and clenched his jaw. Her thoughts resounded in his head and it hurt more than he ever thought it would, like someone had reached inside and ripped his beating heart from his chest. He turned back toward his bedroom.
“Don’t go.”
Chris stopped, but didn’t look at her. He took a deep breath. What did you expect? The answer was simple. He expected the original dream; he expected to be with her.
* * * *
“Chris,” she whispered and when he looked at her this time, she saw Ty. The intense need she remembered was in his eyes and her heart skipped a beat.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said and walked out of the range of vision.
The image faded, but not before she heard the music turned up loud to tune her out. The look on his face rattled her. The entire encounter rattled her and she looked back at Tom sleeping peacefully in their bed. Guilt ravaged her and she nearly let the sob locked in her chest free, instead she took a deep breath, gaining control over her roller coaster emotions.
She decided a run was in order and changed into her jogging outfit. Running always cleared her mind ever since the days in the complex; it was her escape, her salvation. With her iPod’s buds in her ears and the music blaring loud enough to drown reasonable thought, she jogged down to the beach and let loose, running hard and fast, attempting to outrun the swirl of emotions building in her stomach. But when she passed the spot on the beach where they had screwed around, she slowed down, staring at the sand.
The way he made her feel was unparalleled to anything else she had ever encountered. It even left the sensuous heat that Tom created yesterday in the dust. When Chris touched her, her entire body ignited. Physically, he ruled her and she couldn’t resist him, couldn’t say no to him. Even a lifetime ago when he was Ty Aris, holding her captive and she didn’t want to, he still melted her resolve with one touch. Chris owned her body and soul and until today, she believed Tom had her heart, but seeing the depth of hurt in Chris’s eyes had torn the fabric of her beliefs and shot straight through her, leaving her feeling hollow and empty and wondering if it was indeed Chris who owned her heart.
A fragment of a vision she had in the complex crossed her mind and she stumbled, catching herself and resuming her stride. That dream of him kneeling on the snow with an engagement ring proposing was in the back yard of his house in York.
Jesus, no wonder it looked so familiar.
Chapter 66
She stood at the entrance to her closet scanning the dresses. “What should I bring?”
Tom stepped away from his suitcase and crossed to the closet. “You brought those dresses back with you, right?”
“Yeah, but which ones do you want me to bring?”
He scanned the rack and pulled the little red number out, handing it to her. The next dress he picked was an elegant black evening gown. He bit his lip scanning the rest and picked a pretty white floral gown as well, studying the rest of her dresses. His eyes lit up and he replaced the white dress and chose a midnight blue number, smiling. “You always knock me out when you wear this and I have a feeling I’m going to need it tomorrow night.”
Jessica took the dresses and laid them out in the garment bag. He avoided her eyes and picked out three suits, shirts and ties. He finally turned and looked at her and what she saw made her heart leap into her throat. A dread bordering on fear laced his blue eyes and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was going through with this. Going back to the hellhole they endured, the place they should have died. She couldn’t do that, not for love or money.
“I’m so going to need you tomorrow night,” he said and passed by her.
“Why are you doing this if it’s going to be that hard?”
He inhaled and turned toward her. “Come here.” He put his hand out.
Jessica took it and walked in front of him. He took her other hand and kissed her. “I’m doing this because I have to. I need to face my demons,” he said. “I’ve never put that time behind me. I’ve tried, but it’s always been there and we never talked about it much until he came back.” Tom took a deep breath. “I knew when I married you that you loved him. I just didn’t know he was alive and I’m not sure we would be together if I had.” He looked into her eyes. “So I have to do this becaus
e if I don’t, we aren’t going to make it.”
Sadness descended and Jessica’s eyes welled with tears, blurring her vision until she blinked them back. She couldn’t envision life without Tom either, but the thought didn’t bring on the crushing sensation in her chest that never seeing Ty again did. “Okay,” she said.
* * * *
They landed in New York at three o’clock and by the time they got their bags and were driven to the hotel, it was close to four in the afternoon. They checked in and dropped their bags off in the hotel room.
“Dinner reservations aren’t until seven,” Tom said and stretched. “Feel like taking a walk?”
“Sure. Where to?”
“Central Park is just across the street.”
They strolled leisurely through the park and stopped at a concession stand near the carousel for ice cream before continuing. She let Tom take control of the conversation, listening to him drone on about the show and what he wanted to do past this movie but the electricity in the air distracted her. Chris was somewhere in the city and she knew it.
As she walked by the fountain, the uncanny feeling of being watched scratched at the skin at the base of her neck and she paused, scanning the crowd.
“Pretty fountain,” she said and then their eyes met. His peering over the lens of a camera on the opposite side of the fountain and hers widening before she spun her head in the direction they were walking, pretending she hadn’t seen anything unusual and adding another nod to what Tom was saying.
Jessica’s breath caught in her throat and heat prickled over her skin making her shiver. The effect of being within a hundred feet of him was like an electric jolt, intense and unexpected. Before she walked around the bend and out of sight, she cast another glance in his direction but she couldn’t locate him in the crowd and disappointment snuck under her skin.
Jessica ate her ice cream cone, her mind drifting.
Tom stopped short, causing her to come back to the here and now with him.
