July 12th 2011 8:40 p.m.
Two days had passed since he called. Two full days of anxiety and paranoia. Sometimes I would let myself think it was just a bluff, but then I would look down at my forearm. The scabbed up 'F' set me straight. Frank didn’t bluff. He threatened, he warned, but he never bluffed.
Still, it would be like him to make me cower for days, weeks even, before showing himself again. Perhaps the knowledge that I would be jumping at every noise and looking over my shoulder with every step was his way of tormenting me. Yeah, that would be typical Frank. He found just as much sick enjoyment from inflicting mental anguish as he did physical pain. Maybe even more so.
I threw my purse into the passenger seat and ducked in to set the paper sack of groceries down. I nestled them down onto the floor board to keep it from tipping over, a lesson I had learned after causing one too many fruit avalanches while turning. It's a pain in the ass to brake when there is a baseball-sized orange stuck behind the pedal. It's an even bigger pain in the ass having to pull over on the side of the highway during rush hour to put them all back.
I shut my door and made my way around the front, fishing my car keys out of my skirt pocket. It was that perfect time of day when I could nearly smell the sunset and the wash of violets and pinks splashed over the sky in a perfect painting of dusk. I squeezed between the side mirror of the van next to me and my own and opened my driver's side door, stopping before sliding in to close my eyes and breathe in that wonderful scent of summer sunset.
It was these moments I missed—small breaks in time where I didn’t worry about Frank or his chaos and could just enjoy existing in the world. I hated that he stole that away from me so easily, and just to spite him, I allowed myself to take in that temporary serenity and the scent of summer dusk.
The grind of a sliding van door broke the enchantment of the moment and startled me enough to make me drop my keys.
I leaned forward and squatted down to pick them up, intent on jumping into the Toyota and giving the people in the van some room, but when I stood up again the sudden appearance of a large man pulled a startled shriek from me. Iron-like hands gripped my shoulders and shoved me into the open van, my knees catching the step and throwing me back onto the floor of the emptied cargo area.
I had no time to think, to plan, or to wrap my head around what was happening or why. My foot jutted out as hard as I could manage. It wasn't the most effective method of self-defense, but Marcellus hadn't exactly showered me with tips about how to fight back an attack while hanging halfway out of a van. I was shooting from the hip.
My foot connected with something solid. With the second kick he caught my ankle in his meaty hand, pulling me across the floor of the van with a sharp tug that threatened to pull my hip right out of its socket. He pulled my legs against either side of his body, taking away the threat of my kicking feet. My skirt bunched around my hips as I slid across the van, leaving me exposed and vulnerable and pulled against him. I lashed out with hands and fists and nails, refusing to let the sick son of a bitch finish what he started.
"Oh, keep wiggling, sweetness. It feels nice," the man said with a salacious grin.
I fought as hard as I could considering the less than advantageous position I was in. All I could think about was just keeping him from finishing the job, keep him from pushing me all the way inside the van. Someone would come outside, someone would hear me. I screamed as loud as my voice would allow.
Another hand clamped over my mouth and only when the first man pinned both wrists beside my head did I realize the hand over my mouth had come from someone else. My eyes rolled up to find an almost sickly-thin man stretching over from the driver's seat to shut me up. His scarred up face was half hidden by the shadows of the van but didn’t hide his panic.
"Dude, she's gonna bring the cops down on us. You were supposed to pull her in!" he said to the gorilla on top of me.
"Fucking bitch is fighting me!"
"She's 90 lbs. wet. Harness the power of the fat ass and get her in here!"
When I looked back to the one holding me, I could see the damage I’d done to his face. Two scratches on his right cheek, another on his forehead, and one smaller one at the tip of his chin. When he turned his eyes on me they were dark and cold and made no attempt to hide the vengeful thoughts swimming around in the darkness. I couldn’t let them get me all the way into the van.
"He wants her there tonight. I sure as fuck ain't coming back without her now move, fat ass!"
"Fuck you! You think it’s so easy why don’t you come over here an—" but the gorilla's words were cut short as the hand holding my mouth was suddenly ripped away.
"Jonas!" the man crushing me screamed. When I looked back up above my head, he was gone.
Fatty went still above me, his hands pinning my arms, my legs still useless against him. Jonas suddenly reappeared in the driver's seat. His face was slack, eyes wide in terror. Blood dripped easily from his hair onto the van's floor and I knew he was dead.
"What the fuck?!" fatty screamed as he let go of my arms, staggering back at the sight of his buddy.
The sudden space between us was all I needed. I reared my knee up to my chest and shot my foot out with a forceful growl, connecting to his chin with a loud crack. He fell back against my car, and I scrambled out of the van while he tried to wrap his head around the pain of a possibly broken jaw.
"You fucking bitch!" he screamed and pushed off my car, using it to throw him close enough to me to grab me by the hair and mouth. I screamed against his sweaty hand, my hands reaching back behind my head searching for his face, his mouth, nose, eyes... I didn't care what I grabbed.
I felt a sudden jerk backwards and thought he was pulling me back to the van, but he screamed behind me, pulling me off my feet as he was crashed into by something else. I fell to the ground and twisted around to see a smaller man on top of the gorilla, sitting on his chest and pounding the back of his head into the cement until he went still as the grave. The parking lot was a wash of dark liquid underneath them.
Frank stood up, dragging a boot over the man's mountain of a torso and walking towards his head. He reached down and grasped the man under the arms, dragging him effortlessly towards the painted curb behind him. I knew Frank was strong, and that his strength came from something other-worldly, but seeing him move the giant so easily still seemed impossible. When fatty's bald head reached the curb, Frank pushed him to his side propping the side of his head to the curb.
Oh God, no.
Seconds after I realized what Frank was going to do, his foot came crashing down onto the top side of his head, crushing it between his boot and the concrete. I looked away, but not before I saw his head dent in or before I saw the blood and thicker things force its way out of his skull through any opening it could find.
I curled into a ball on the ground, my knees pulled to my chest in an effort to not throw up. A hand gingerly touched my shoulder, and I jumped, my fists flying only to be caught by Frank. We struggled a moment, me sitting on the ground and him on a knee beside me, but he didn’t speak or hit back. He let me lash out at him until I couldn't any longer, then he wrapped his arms around me.
I fought against his embrace but either exhaustion or defeat took hold of me, and I melted into him, resting my head against the hollow of his throat. I’d thought the he the men had referred to was Frank, but then there he was saving me from whatever fate they had in store for me.
It was safe to say, if he—whoever he was—had wanted to invite me to tea or a light chat that he wouldn't have sent two thugs in an unmarked white utility van to procure me from the street.
The arm at my back shifted, and I felt Frank’s hand slide over my hair. He pressed his lips to my temple with a soft shushing sound. We sat there for only a moment, but the fact that there were two dead bodies nearby meant we couldn't stay here. He shifted and lifted me up to my feet to let me stand on my own.
His hands moved to my hips and smoothed down my skirt. If I wasn't so
shaken I might have been embarrassed. My hands moved down to finish fixing my skirt and his moved to fix the twist in my blouse then rested on my shoulders.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice unusually soft and full of concern.
His thumbs kneaded my collarbone as I looked up at him. There was no snark, no contempt. It was the soft expression of the man I had fallen in love with so long ago.
"I... Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
His eyes darted behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to find people walking out of the store. They were looking around them, a group of about five shoppers and two employees. They were coming out to see where the screams had come from.
Yeah, that would have been helpful a few minutes ago.
"Shit. Come on," he said, and for the first time in a long time, I listened.
I followed him towards the exit of the parking lot, to where his bike was sitting. It was his Beast. He really had gone back and gotten it. My stomach sank, but I didn't have time to think about that. The first scream from the crowd erupted, and Frank pulled me onto the bike, not behind him but in front of him. With a kick, he started the engine and we were gone. By the time the sirens could be heard, we were already making our way onto the old highway.
We drove in silence for about a half an hour. The shaking in my hands had finally eased but my heart was still thumping painfully in my chest, and I didn't think it was from the near-kidnapping. His chest was so hot against my back that I started to sweat. The sun was nearly settled into the horizon now, the pinks and purples giving way for heavier shades of violet and navy blue. Under other circumstances this would be my heaven. Or would have been, long ago.
We pulled to the side of the road, and my body tensed. I didn’t want to stop. When the bike settled, and Frank cut the engine, he let out a long exhausted sigh; the first sound I had heard him make since we left the store. I turned to look at him, and he gave me a thin smile that was little more than skin-deep.
"You thirsty?" he asked.
As I cleared my throat I realized that I was. The screaming had turned my throat into a barren desert.
He slid his hand into his bedroll and pulled out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap, took a drink, and handed the bottle to me. My hand slid over his and something inside me stirred. A warning, maybe? Long forgotten feelings? Who knew? All I knew was I was damned thirsty. I just didn’t know if it was that kind of thirst.
I brought the water to my lips and took a deep drink, the plastic sucking inward on itself. I gulped it down, the coolness easing my throat, and ran my tongue over my lips to collect the stray drops before brushing over them with the back of my hand. I stared at Frank and he stared back at me with a weightless relief in his eyes.
"Thank you," I started, though I wasn't really sure what else to say to him. I was struggling with the fact that mere hours ago I was looking over my shoulder, afraid to see his face, and now I was standing alone with him and strangely calm about it. It didn’t make sense but I couldn’t lie to myself. If it was between Frank and some random ass fucker trying to kidnap me, I would choose the evil I knew.
"I don't know why you were there. I don't think I want to know how you were in the right place at the right time, but thank you for saving me."
His thin smile spread into a wider, amused grin. He looked down, recapped the bottle, and looked back up at me with a tilt of his head.
"You always did call me on my bullshit," he laughed a bit and combed his fingers through his hair and I realized, for the first time since he’d forced his way back into my life, that he he’d grown it out. It was a good four inches longer than I had last seen and curled wildly around his ears and neck. "Yeah, I was watching. Really didn't plan to be the knight in shining armor, I can tell ya that."
I should have been creeped out that the only reason he had been there was because he was basically stalking me around town. Truth was, it did make my skin crawl but could I really be mad that he was there tonight? If he hadn't been there I would probably be dead or worse. Yes, I do believe there are worse things than death.
"So why did you?" I asked finally, exhaustion creeping up on me fast. My adrenaline must have been crashing because it was becoming difficult to move. "Why not just let them take me and get rid of a recurring problem in your life? Who were they, anyway?"
"My guess? They probably work for the same guy who put that deer in your car," he said. I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, that I'd thought he'd done it, but he cut me off, "I honestly don't get it Harley. I don't see why you think I would want you out of my life. I've said it again and again... I want you back with me."
"Why can't you just let me go, Frank? No," I said as he began to open that charming mouth of his. "I know why you say you can't. I want the real reason. It wasn't like our relationship was a love for the ages."
"Didn't you love me, Harley?"
The question was so left-field that I stumbled over my words. "I... That doesn't matter," I protested, trying to stick to my point.
"I think it does, actually. In fact, it's probably the most important question to ask. Did you love me, Harley?" He stared into my eyes, and I couldn't help but squirm under his scrutiny.
"Of course I did. I wouldn't have stayed through all the bullshit you put me through if I didn't. But that's exactly the problem. You put me through so much shit. Every day it was something else. Another fight, more violence, more running. You drove me away from you long before I left." I prayed he would accept this. I didn't want to love him, but I had. Sometimes I thought that masochistic part of me still did.
"I told you, I had my reasons. You only got half the story, Harley. If you loved me once you can love me again. I can tell you this much, I have never stopped loving you, and I have never stopped needing you."
I started to argue, but I couldn't piece together a cohesive thought. I felt like I could just curl up and sleep right there on the side of the road. My hand lifted and it was weighed down like a ten ton anvil. Before I could manage to press it to the sudden throb between my eyes, my body went limp and I was suddenly in Frank's arms.
"Easy," he whispered as he guided me to his bike again. "This is a long time comin', Harls."
I blinked up lazily at him and tried to force myself to stay conscious. The motorcycle shifted under me and the engine sounded so very far away. I wanted to fight against the nagging sense of sleep, but it took hold of me and coaxed me into blissful darkness.
Deny the Moon Page 26
