Текст книги "Behind Your Back"

Автор книги: Chelsea M. Cameron

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Twenty-Four

I take the next day off work and go to see Lizzy. It’s a very, very stupid idea, but I do it anyway. Cash is following me today and it takes a while to shake him off. Of course, I end up getting a pissy text and send one back that I just need a few hours. He’s easier to convince than Row and he tells me that as long as I get my ass back by five, he’ll cover for me. Of course, he adds that if I get killed, it’s my own damn fault.

Lizzy in the activity room when I get there, making a picture collage. Her hands are carefully cutting pictures out of magazines.

“It’s nice to see you, Quinn,” Margo, one of the nurses, says to me when I check in. “You’re good to come and see her as much as you do. I know it can’t be easy to get away from your job.”

I smile at her and make my way over to Lizzy. I tap her on the shoulder and she jumps up to hug me. I sit down with her and she shows me what she’s been working on.

She’s cutting out flowers from a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. It reminds me of being with Saige yesterday and her tattoo.

“That’s very pretty. What are you going to do with it?” She shrugs.

“Don’t know.”

She goes back to work and hums to herself.

“Have you been reading without me?” I ask and she looks up at me, her baby blue eyes wide.

“No way,” she says, shaking her head, but biting back a smile.

“Have you been reading without me?” I say, narrowing my eyes and she giggles and tries to get away from me, but I grab her and tickle her ribs until she laughs so hard she can’t breathe.

The room we’re in is bright and all the residents seem happy and busy. I made sure when I put her here that it was a good facility. There are a lot of bad ones out there and there’s no way I could leave her in a place that I didn’t trust.

When she’s cutting I see a bracelet on her wrist. I don’t recognize it and ask her where she got it.

She presses her lips together and shakes her head back and forth.

“It’s a secret.”

“Oh, is it?” I just assume one of the nurses gave it to her. They do things like that. “Can I see it?” She holds her wrist in front of my face and I see the simple silver band with a charm on it. A scrolling silver E, for Elizabeth.

“Very nice,” I say and she cradles her wrist to her chest.

“It’s very special. I’m taking good care of it,” she says, her voice very serious.

“I see that you are. That’s a very nice present.” She nods and goes back to cutting. I stay the whole day, having lunch with her and playing tag outside in the yard with a few of her friends. After that, we go back to her room and I read some more Harry Potter. It is a really good book. It’s funny and engaging and Lizzy is loving it. I stay as long as I dare and then say goodbye to her. I text Cash as soon as I’m on the road what my arrival time is.

He messages back that I owe him. Oh, I know. I’m owing a lot of people a lot of things. Doesn’t matter, though. I’ll sacrifice for Lizzy.

I message Saige asking her how the tattoo is doing and she sends back a picture of it. Her back is red and angry, but that’s normal. She sends me another picture of her wincing.

OUCH.

I laugh and answer her that pain is a necessary evil.

She texts me back asking if I want to come over and make it all better. I don’t think sex is really the ideal solution and for some reason, I want to say no. This is the first time I’ve ever been conflicted about fucking Saige. Ever. I’m not sure why I’m conflicted now.

She’s twisting and turning my head around and getting inside my skin and bleeding through my veins and I just… I need a break.

Wish I could. Ton of work I need to catch up on.

I consider sending a frowning face, but that seems much too juvenile.

Too bad. I could really use someone to help me rub lotion on my back.

I smile and feel a pang of guilt at saying no to her, but I just can’t.

Now that is a line, Saige. You’re always accusing me of using them.

Her answer is a winky face.

I set my phone down and lean back on the couch. Leo has been watching me, his tail switching back and forth.

“Stop staring at me,” I say, but he just blinks his yellow eyes at me.

The burner phone goes off and I get another picture of me from today, walking into my apartment. Is this going to be a thing now? Daily picture messages letting me know that he’s watching me?

I want to smash the phone against the wall, but I don’t because there’s a knock at my door. Puzzled, I get up and reach for the gun I keep out when I’m home alone.

Softly as I can, I walk to the door and look out the peephole. Nothing. I wait and keep looking, but the hallway is empty. Slowly, I open the door and make sure to keep the gun out of sight. There’s a package in front of my door. It’s a simple brown box, closed with clear tape. Shit.

It could be anything. Explosives, a warning, anything. I lean down and put my ear to the box, listening for a beep or a tick or something. Nothing. I wait for a few minutes and then a door down the hall opens and I’m caught. I have no choice but to pick it up and bring it into my place. Holding it as gently as I can, I walk with it into the kitchen and set it down on the kitchen table.

I know I need to call the guys. Cash has tech that can x-ray the thing to find out what it is, but something tells me this is personal. I know I’m correct when I get another message.

Have you opened it yet?

It’s not explosives or anything designed to kill me. No, this stalker enjoys toying with me too much. I grab a knife and slice through the tape, still wary. I lift one flap of the box and then another. It was light when I picked it up and there’s only one item inside.

A picture in a simple silver frame.

A picture of my mother when she was young. Probably around eighteen or so. She married my father when she was twenty.

My hands shake as I take the frame out and stare at it.

How did the stalker get this? How is this possible?

What is going on?

I spend the rest of the night staring at the picture and trying to decide my next move. Clearly, this stalker knows me. Knows my mother. Knows my history. This goes far beyond a simple grudge for taking away money. This is something much deeper and darker and I don’t know if I can handle it.

I should tell Cash. I should tell someone. But I can’t bring myself to. That would open up old wounds and thrust my past into the present and I can’t do that. I won’t.

So I take the picture and put it back in the box and place it in my safe. I don’t care how I’ve gotten this picture, I’m going to keep it because I have so few of my mother.

I don’t sleep. I just sit and guzzle beer after beer and stare at the wall. I should have gone to see Saige. If I did, I wouldn’t be alone right now. I could bury myself in her and forget.

It’s two in the morning and I can’t take it anymore. I send her a message and cross my fingers. I get a response back in a few minutes.

Come on over.

We don’t fuck. I don’t know what to call it, but it’s probably the closest to making love I’ve ever been. Saige takes care of me with lips and hands and body. She goes slow and savors every part of me. It’s a joining of two bodies, but it’s so much more than that.

By the time Saige mounts me and slides my cock inside, I’m not thinking about anything but her. She burns everything else away. She puts her hands on my chest and rises slowly up and then down on me. I groan out and she moans, her hair falling forward, scraping my chest. She’s everywhere around me. She’s everything.

By the time we both climax, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. My mind isn’t racing. I’m not thinking about everything that’s going to go wrong. I’m not thinking about the ticking timeline. My only thoughts are about her.

She leans down and kisses me, our bodies still joined.

“Feel better?” Her voice is soft and her smile is sleepy and satiated. I don’t feel guilty for waking her up. I don’t feel anything but relief that I’m here with her. I prop myself up so she’s sitting in my lap and I seize her, putting my arms around her. I want to absorb her into my skin.

“Yes,” I say into her neck. I feel myself getting hard again and I start slowly thrusting again. She holds onto me and I rock into her. She adds her own movements and soon we’re both orgasming again.

Her eyes flutter closed and she tips her head back.

“I’m going to be tired tomorrow, but this has been so worth it,” she says, her eyes opening and a smile flitting across her lips.

“I’m sorry I called so late,” I say, my voice rough. She shakes her head and puts a finger to my lips.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. It’s okay, Quinn. I’d rather have you call me in the middle of the night than suffer alone.” I think about telling her I’m not suffering, but I can’t lie. Everything is crashing down on me at once and I feel like I can’t breathe. But with Saige, I can inhale and all I smell is her skin, her hair, her everything.

“It’s okay,” she says again, leaning down to meet my lips with hers.

She pulls back and smiles.

“Stay with me. Sleep here and hold me.” I nod and she gets off me and goes to the bathroom to clean up. I lay back on her pillows and exhale a long breath.

She comes back and lays on her stomach, inching over to lay herself across my chest. I stroke her spine, being careful not to touch the tattoo.

“This is the least I can do for you since you came with me today,” she says through a yawn.

I can’t seem to find the words to say.

“I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what I’m sorry for.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Quinn. I’m worried about you. You seem sad and… lost.” She’s too perceptive for her own good. Part of me wishes I could go back in time and never take this job. What would have happened if I’d just gone into that coffee shop and met her? Just met her. Just been Sylas from the beginning.

There’s no such thing as a time machine. No way to go back. I can’t leap into Lizzy’s Harry Potter books and use a spell to do it. This is real and the dice have been cast. I rolled my hand and now I have to deal with the numbers that I’ve been given.

“You’re thinking awfully hard over there,” Saige says, dragging one finger between my eyes.

“I’m fine,” I say. Such a lie.

“I wish you could talk to me. I wish you could trust me.” I don’t trust anyone. Not really.

“It’s not easy for me to trust people. I’ve been burned before,” I say, my voice quiet.

“I can understand that. People can sometimes let you down. And sometimes people aren’t what they seem and you don’t know until it’s too late.” Her voice drops as well and we’re whispering together in the dark.

I’m going to be one of those people. She’ll add me to the list of people who aren’t what they seem. I look down at her in the dark and I wish I could fuck her again so I can have some more peace in my head.

“There’s a deep sadness in you, Quinn. What happened to you?”

“My mother died. She was murdered,” I say. I can’t hold it in anymore. Even if I can’t tell her the whole truth, I can give her bits of it and that will hopefully help the storm raging through my brain.

“Oh, Quinn. I’m so sorry.” She strokes my chest and lays her head on my heart. “I’m so sorry for you. How old were you?”

“Almost eighteen.” I’d been old enough that I’d gotten custody of Lizzy, at least, but that didn’t make it any easier. It didn’t matter how old you were, finding your mother’s body in the kitchen would always be the most horrible thing to happen in your life.

“So you were left all alone?” she asks. I have to swallow before I answer.

“Yes.” No matter what, I will never tell her about Lizzy.

She shivers and pulls closer to me.

“I can’t even imagine.” No, she can’t. Her parents might be cold and critical of her, but at least they’re alive. They love her and if push came to shove, they would do anything for her.

“I don’t like to talk about it. Not many people know. It can be a bit of a conversational downer.” I’m trying to make a joke, but it falls flat.

“I don’t think there’s anything I can say to make you feel better, but that’s not going to stop me from trying.” Her green eyes glow out at me in the dark and that intensity from earlier is back. Like she’s trying to get me to understand something she can’t say out loud.

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. No one deserves that. There are people who will give you bullshit platitudes and tell you that everything happens for a reason, but that’s a lie. Sometimes there’s no reason when terrible things happen. They just happen and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” For someone who has never had a major tragedy, Saige certainly seems to know what to say.

“Thank you,” I say. They’re the only two words I can come up with.

“You’re welcome, Quinn.” She sighs and closes her eyes. I put my arms around her and finally drift off into sleep.

Twenty-Five

I don’t wake again until Saige’s alarm goes off at six. She’s still lying on me. Both of us slept heavily and well.

Her arm reaches over me and slaps the clock so it will stop buzzing.

“I have class at eight,” she says, but I know that. I’ve also missed two days of work and my boss is going to have my head if I don’t go in.

She unwinds herself from me and heads to the bathroom to take a shower. I retrieve my discarded clothes from where they were thrown in heaps. Before I can put my shirt over my head, I set the clothes down again and join Saige in the shower. She’s not surprised when I step in, turning to me with a smile.

“I shouldn’t feel as rested as I do. There’s something to be said for sleeping with you, Quinn.” She steps aside so I can get under the spray and then she hands me the bottle of shampoo. It’s cinnamon and sandalwood, so I go ahead and use it. We trade spots under the showerhead and both get clean. I want to fuck her again, but there isn’t time. I need to get back to my place and put my suit on. I need to feed Leo and figure out what I’m going to do about the picture of my mother. I’ve been able to take a few hours to not think about those things and now that time is up.

“I have a question for you,” she says as we’re toweling off and I’m getting dressed again.

“Yes?” I say and she smiles up at me.

“How would you like to come to dinner with my parents again this weekend? I think my mom wants to interrogate you this time since she wasted last time on me.” She’s playing right into my hands. After all the shitty luck I’ve had lately, this is good.

“I would feel fine, as long as I have you to protect me,” I say. She can’t know I’m so eager to be with her parents again.

“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll reward you for a job well done.” She drops her towel and walks naked to her closet where she starts pulling clothes out.

“Do you want me to put some lotion on your tattoo?” I ask. I’d helped her wash it with antibacterial soap in the shower. It’s still red and angry, but in no time it will be peeling.

“Thanks,” she says over her shoulder. I swipe the lotion on her tattoo and she sighs in relief.

“That feels really good.”

I love touching her. I wish I could spend my entire life just touching her and fucking her and being with her. But luck is not on our side. I won’t call it fate. I don’t believe in fate.

I rub my hands together to absorb the remnants of lotion and then get dressed.

“Let me know about this weekend,” I say as she walks me to her door.

“I will.” We share one sweet kiss and then she’s shutting the door and I have to get back to reality.

The box with my mother’s picture in it is still in my safe when I get back. In some stupid part of my brain I thought that maybe it was a dream. Or a mirage. Or that my brain had scrambled itself and I was actually going crazy.

No. It’s still there. I run my fingers over the frame and have an idea. I turn the frame over and pop the back off.

Marina, my love.

The handwriting doesn’t look familiar, but it’s clearly masculine. Who wrote this? Who’s had this picture? And why are they stalking me now? My theory on the stalker had always been that it was someone I had taken money from, but now I’m having other ideas.

Maybe the stalker is from further back than that. Maybe they’re trying to tell me something. The messages I’ve gotten have been more playful than threatening. Have I been reading this the wrong way?

There isn’t time to think more about it. I have to go to work. On my way, I text Cash that I’ve got the green light for visiting Beaumont with Saige this weekend and that I’ll need all the surveillance equipment. It’s amazing what you can put a camera and a microphone into these days. I’ll also put a trace on his computer and with any luck we’ll have everything we need for the final confrontation. Right on schedule.

We’ve also started the plans for California. Hardy is busy finding us housing, getting places to store everything and finding a garage to put the cars in. I don’t have to do any work on that front. The guys have it well in hand. It’s a job to move us, but we’ve done it so many times that we have it down to a science. I’m grateful for small mercies.

Saige texts me that night when I’m stuck at work catching up with everything, to tell me her parents want us for an early dinner on Sunday this time.

I race from the office straight to Cash’s place.

“Sorry I’m late. I got stuck at work.” Baz hands me a beer and I crack it open and take a grateful sip. I would love to drown my sorrows in a shot glass again, but I can’t do that now. I need to be on my game. Be sharp. Be on the lookout.

“All systems are go for the surveillance this weekend,” I say. Cash has already filled them in, but I’ve got the exact day and time now.

“Just don’t fuck it up,” Baz says. I get it. I really do.

“I’m not going to fuck it up. We’re almost there and then we’ll be out of town,” I snap. Silence fills the room. Nobody seems to want to argue with me. I take a deep breath and try to get myself under control.

“Let’s go out,” I say. The only time we’re all together is when we’re in Cash’s office. It’s nice here, but it can feel a bit like a cave sometimes.

“Are you serious?” Row asks. “Isn’t that against every single rule we’ve ever made?”

“Yes. But I think we need to live a little more outside of the job.” They all look at me as if I’ve lost my marbles, but then Track grins.

“Hell yes. Can I pick the place?” Baz makes a choking noise.

“Fuck no. You’d probably pick some strip club that’s only dudes.” Track looks scandalized, but it’s definitely true.

“Are you so insecure in your sexuality that you can’t go look at a naked man? Baz, I’m shocked.” That causes Baz to put Track in a headlock and they have to tussle it out for a few minutes.

“It’s risky, but if we take separate cars and go somewhere that’s out of the way, we can do it,” Hardy says, ever practical.

“I think it’s worth it,” I say.

It takes an hour to plan the damn thing. There are just a lot of factors to consider. I am beginning to think my impulsive idea isn’t worth the effort, but the guys seem excited. I can’t say why just going out as a group is so special, but we’ve just never done it before. Maybe we need to loosen the reins a bit. Maybe we shouldn’t go after such big marks.

The bar we pick is actually Row’s suggestion. He seems to always know some shady people wherever we go. We take three cars, and show up at different times. I’m in the first group to arrive; the place where we pull up is nearly an hour outside of the city and looks like it’s held up with toothpicks and spit. Definitely nothing to write home about, but I bet the beer is cold and the music is loud.

“What a shithole,” I say and Row glares. He heads in first with Hardy and me following. The interior is filled with stale smoky air while Tom Petty bleeds into my eardrums. Besides the bar, there are a few tables, a pool table and a dartboard. This is where men who are short on luck come to drink their sorrows away. It’s perfect.

Row secures us a table in the back, under a flickering light. No one even looks up at us, and I can feel Hardy scanning the room to make sure we’re good and no one is watching us.

“Clear?” I ask. He nods and we sit down. Row brings us two pitchers of ice cold cheap beer and the next two groups finally arrive. Since this was my crazy idea, I volunteer to be a DD on the way back and limit myself to one glass of the stuff. Hardy and Track also volunteer. It’s not terrible, but it’s not great either.

“The only thing that would make this perfect is if there were a few pretty girls,” Baz says, looking around. There are a few women here, but there here with either husbands or boyfriends.

“Don’t pout, it’s unbecoming,” Track says with a wink. Baz just scowls at him and keeps drinking. Back at Cash’s, we made a rule that talk of work was off-limits both for purposes of having a good time and security. You never know who’s listening.

“I keep thinking that someone is going to jump us,” Cash says, looking around warily. I find this comical, because he’s definitely the biggest guy in here.

“Stop acting so squirrely,” Row says, bumping Cash with his shoulder. “Just relax.”

That’s easier said than done, but my one beer, I find my shoulders releasing some of the tension that lives in them all the time.

“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,” Baz says about the latest female celebrity hot mess.

“You wouldn’t kick anyone out of bed,” Row says, rolling his eyes. “You’d fuck anything with a vagina.”

“I don’t discriminate. There’s a difference,” Baz says. He and Row are well on their way to getting wasted and Cash isn’t far behind them.

“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you were someone else?” Cash says. For someone who is generally happy, he sometimes gets maudlin when he drinks. This appears to be one of those times.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t know what your life would be like if you were someone else, because you’d be someone else,” Baz says, as if it’s obvious.

“No, I get what you’re saying,” I say. “What kind of person you’d be if you got to live someone else’s life.” I used to wonder that. If my father hadn’t be a criminal and got my mother all wrapped up in his web of lies and blood. If my father had just been a banker, or a car salesman or a professor?

“There’s a lot of debate about nature versus nurture. They’ve studied identical twins that were separated at birth and then reunited and found that a lot of their traits are similar, even if they’ve been raised under completely different circumstances,” Hardy says, bringing the science.

“And who decides that person gets a shitty life? Who’s in charge of that?” We probably should have cut Cash off, but he’s too far gone now. He slumps on the table, taking up most of it and nearly knocking everyone’s glasses down.

“I just wanted to work in IT and get married and have a dog,” he says, so quiet almost no one can hear him. “But then my life had to go to shit.”

We all look at each other.

“Shitty stuff happens to everyone. Some people get more shit than others, but at the end of the day, we’re all speeding toward the same end game. Everyone dies,” Row says and Cash glares at him.

“That’s depressing.”

“The truth is most of the time.”

“Why don’t we play pool?” Track says. He’s our morale booster when Cash is out of commission.

I play Row, Hardy plays Baz and then Track (the best player in our group) plays all of us and wins. Cash is still not doing so hot, so we prop him up against the wall and start pouring water down his throat.

No one seems to notice us, or pay attention, but we’re all still on alert. Some of the patrons of this establishment clearly have criminal records, but then so do we.

Hardy is getting a refill on water for Cash when he bumps shoulders with a guy who clearly wants to start something. I had the feeling something like this would happen, but as the night wore on I thought we’d get lucky. Not so much.

Hardy turns to the guy and says something in a low voice. The guy guffaws and turns to his buddies. Clearly, he’s doing this all for show, but Hardy just steps toward the guy and then suddenly he’s on the ground. It happens so fast it doesn’t even look like Hardy touched him.

The guy screams as Hardy calmly walks back to us.

“I think it’s time to go.” I throw Cash’s arm over my shoulder and Baz gets his other side as we make a hasty retreat, the guy and his buddies screaming murderous threats at us. Hopefully they’re all so wasted none of them will remember this interaction tomorrow morning. But I have a feeling the asshole on the floor is going to be wondering what the hell happened.

“Did you have to drop him like that?” Row says. I can tell he’s pissed that the night has come to an end. I throw Cash in the car with Baz and then hop behind the wheel with Row and Hardy as Track drives the other car. We all leave at once, but vary our driving patterns so we arrive at the garage where we keep the cars at different times.

“We should do that more often,” Baz says. “But can we go to a place with girls next time?” There’s a collective eye roll as we figure who’s taking the drunkies home so they can sleep it off.

“Going to a bar never used to be this much work,” Hardy says. “But I’m glad we did. Even if that asshole did try to start something. Maybe next time I’ll lay whoever it is out and give everyone a good show.” His eyes sparkle a little and I think maybe the next time we should go somewhere that doesn’t have as many drunk guys looking to start a fight. The last thing we need is for one of the boys to get arrested.

Everyone says goodnight and I have the delightful job of getting Cash home and in bed. He’s done it for me enough times, so I might as well return the favor.

He’s mumbling as I shove him up the stairs of his place and toward this bedroom. I shove some aspirin down his throat and some more water. I make sure to leave some extra with him, get him undressed, in bed and tilt his head to the side.

“Good night, big guy.” I’m about to turn and leave when a sound stops me. Cash is quietly sobbing.

Not sure what to do, I turn around and look down at him. I’ve never seen Cash cry. I’ve never seen any of the guys cry. Not that we don’t, I just think by virtue of what we do that we bottle it up and save it for when we’re alone.

“They’re all dead,” he moans, grabbing his face. “They’re all dead.”

His parents. He was the one who found them and I think that’s one of the reasons we share so much. We both know what it’s like to walk in on a murdered parent. Cash had it harder, though. I always wonder how he’s able to stay so upbeat.

“It’s okay, Cash. It’s okay. It’s over,” I say, patting his shoulder. He looks up at me with so much pain in his eyes that I want to look away.

“It’s not over, it’s not over,” he says again and again. I have nothing I can say to him that’s going to convince him, so I sit on the bed next to him and wait for him to go to sleep. Eventually he tires himself out and his eyes close and then he starts softly snoring. He won’t remember this, but I will.

Cash was much younger than I when his parents died. I can’t imagine what that’s like to be in your formative years and have something like that break you. I make my way back to my place and decide to hop the fence and hang out in one of the parks for a while.

I think about my mother. About Lizzy. About Cash. I think about all the lives ruined by circumstances out of their control.

I think about going over to Saige’s place again, but I don’t. It is extremely late and I don’t think she’ll indulge me twice in one week. I don’t need her knocking my defenses down and making me tell her things I shouldn’t be telling her.

But.

I need her.

I go back to my place and change my clothes and pack an extra set. I know I smell like dirt and smoke and alcohol, but I don’t care. It’s an easy thing to get into her apartment building and then into her place. I walk into her bedroom and she’s lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I had a feeling you were going to come,” she says, not at all surprised to see me.

“How did you know?” My voice is rough as I strip and climb into bed with her.

“Intuition,” she says, holding her arms open for me.