INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) (7 page)

He backs me up to the bed until my knees
collapse under me forcing me to sit. He kneels down to match my gaze.
A wry and satisfied grin rides on his lips, “Light duty, Shay.
That’s all you get tonight. Tomorrow may be a different story."
Eli’s raises his left brow in a playful expression, “But
don’t you dare think for a minute that I haven’t been
fighting for you for years.”

He lays me back on the bed and all I can
do is comply. Eli’s so different and confident. He pulls the
covers up around me and tenderly runs his fingers through my hair,
pushing it away from my face. “I’m going to come back and
check on you, but I want you to get some rest.” He straightens
his tall frame, still looking down at me in the bed he smiles like
he’s been satisfied with a good meal or even better sex. “If
you need anything I’ll be in my office, okay?”

The spark of heat runs through me as I
watch him leave. What the hell was that? Was that Eli Walker staking
his claim? If it was I’m definitely interested in seeing what
he has hiding in that new attitude of his. I want Eli to be so much
more than just a placeholder for Aiden. I want us to have something
real, something that isn’t based on Aiden’s current
location, and something that can withstand Aiden coming back.

I’m loath to think of it, but I
can’t help but be drawn back to the big question on my mind,
which is why Aiden shot me and why everyone seems okay with this. Why
did Glass ask me about Aiden’s body? Is it because they don’t
know where he is? Surely it’s common knowledge how often Aiden
racks up the frequent flyer miles.

But why did he shoot me? What happened
that night that made Aiden either fear for his life or hate me? Did I
attack him? Maybe all of this is getting to be too much for him.
Maybe he still thinks I killed Gary and Alice, and adding Taffy to
Aiden’s list of people I most likely exterminated would also be
appropriate.

The exhaustion sweeps over my eyes
making my lids heavy with sleep. I’m not done thinking about
this, I’m not done wondering. Aiden needs to come back and tell
me why he shot me, or I can’t let it go.

Slumber takes me over.

***

Eli

Sucking in a long cleansing breath to
cool down after that exchange is a necessity. I need a cold shower.
It’s been so long since she and I have been together and
sitting vigil at her bedside nonstop has taken its toll. It’s
one of the hazards of being near her.

I thought I would outgrow the
perma-hard-on that lived in my pants just for her when she was
around. My face should be beet red with embarrassment, but it’s
not. She needs to know that I love her in every way, but I’ll
be damned if I let her get away with calling me a pussy. What the
fuck was that?

Shay being angry was expected, but she’s
never lashed out at me like that. She’s not usually prone to
saying random hurtful things as a method of cutting down the
innocent. “Innocent;” it rattles through me on a laugh.
“I’m not sure that I qualify for that moniker anymore.”
Not that I ever did, but after what I did to Taffy I know I don’t
qualify.

The front door opens and Rex comes
running in at me. I sit on the floor in the foyer trying to give him
enough love and attention to make up for the last three weeks of not
being here with him. I’ll have to apologize properly for having
left him with Jerry.

“Hey, what’s up?”
Jerry tries to slide by me with a six pack in hand; I really don’t
need that shit.

“You know, girlfriend in the
bedroom recovering from gunshot wounds. What are you doing?” I
can’t help but oggle the bottle necks sweating with
condensation; they look like a fucking commercial and for whatever
reason that really makes them so enticing.

“‘Girlfriend’ huh? Are
we back on that again?” He tries to tempt me, holding the
bottles closer to me for a moment.

“I really appreciate you watching
Rex for me, but I don’t want those in here, or you for that
matter.”

Jerry puts the bottles down on the
counter, “Why? She’s not any good to you tonight. I
thought we could hang out.”

“No, it’s really not a good
time, Shay needs to rest and I have a lot of work to do. I’m
also trying to lay off the booze.” Jesus Jerry, just take the
hint and go.

“Yeah, well I’m not enough
of an asshole to let some skirt tell me I’m an alcoholic. I’m
also smart enough to not let one girl lead me around by the dick
telling me what to do, so it’s not my problem.” Jerry
flips the top off one of the bottles and takes a swig. He is such a
dick the way he walks in here like he owns the place, pushes me
around and has no regard for the fact this is my house. Jesus, he’s
just like Aiden. I don’t know why I’ve never seen it
before.

“Maybe you’re right about
that, but you being homeless isn’t my problem either. I want
you to leave.” I intended to say it stronger, but it never
comes out that way. “And take those with you.” I motion
to the now-five pack.

Jerry puts his arm around my shoulder
leading me to the great room. “Eli,” he pauses taking
another drink. “We’re brothers; remember ‘Bros
before Hos.’” He’s pleased with his third-grade
rhyming abilities but I’m just getting pissed.

“Jesus Jerry, just get the fuck
out.” I remove his arm from around my shoulder. Resisting the
urge to push his teeth down his throat for referring to Shay like
that is proving difficult.

“Come on, one beer! March Madness,
man. I was hoping to catch it on the big screen.” Jerry motions
to the TV mounted on the wall.

“No, get the fuck out Jerry. Now
isn’t the time. I really appreciate you taking care of Rex for
me. Tell Mom I’ll be over to see her when things die down.”
I open the front door waiting for Jerry to exit but he just stands
there. I wish he would just leave, just once fucking listen.

I don’t want to have to throw him
out bodily. Mom gets so upset when we fight even when he needs an
ass-whooping. I’ve got to get him and his beer out of my house.
I don’t want him here when Shay wakes up; she can’t stand
him either. After realizing how like Aiden he is, I’m not sure
if it’s that or how Jerry hits on her like I'm not in the room.

No. Thinking about Jerry hitting on Shay
really grates on my last nerve. Rage is building in me that’s
starting to feel like it can easily get out of control if I let it go
unchecked. I grab Jerry’s beer off the counter and slap it hard
into his chest, “You’re leaving right now.”

“Seriously man, it’s the
Syracuse/Miami game, Miami is gonna kill,” Jerry whines, taking
hold of the bottles.

“Jerry, go.” I’ve
resorted to simple one word commands in hopes that if I keep it
simple he’ll comply.

“Fuck that bitch, Eli. You can
have any woman you want and you put up with bullshit from a whore
with a gash that has someone else’s name on it?” Jerry
looks at me as if he speaks the absolute truth. “She’s
just another girl, Eli, another girl who only wants you when someone
else isn’t around. I guess Aiden never showed back up or her
mouth would be full of his cock right now instead full of…oh
wait, no one’s because she’s not even putting out for you
right now. Fucking waste." He shakes his head in disgust.

My hands are starting to shake. I hate
the way he talks about women and people in general. He’s wrong
about her.

Heat fills my face and my fists are
balled up at my sides because I’d like to wrap my hands around
his neck and squeeze until his body goes limp. Stepping in close
enough that he backs into the wall, his eyes widen as he loses the
flippant expression. He cowers slightly up against the wall and I say
a brief “thanks” to Mom for giving me height along with
some decorum. Heh, decorum; ironic I’m touting that virtue when
I'm about to pummel my brother for being the asshole he was born to
be. “Get the fuck out, Jerry.”

“Mr. Walker, may I?” Carl
appears in the doorway looking at Jerry like he hates him more than I
do.

“No, I’ve got this,” I
tell Carl, who I appreciate being there at this moment. Jerry usually
will take his chances with me, because he knows I'll go easy on him.
He may not be as sure about Carl and he’s fucking huge. I’m
still a little surprised at the way I talked to him earlier when I
told him to go outside, but that was my dick doing all the talking,
not my good senses. I take Jerry by the shirt sleeve and tug him
toward the open door.

“Come on, Eli. Seriously?”
he pleads as I send him out. He stumbles tripping over the small step
in the entry.

“Yes Jerry, seriously.” Even
though I want to slam the door I close it lightly. I don’t want
to wake Shay if she’s managed to fall asleep.

Carl stands motionless, looking at the
door, then to me, “Sorry, Mr. Walker.” He hesitates as he
reaches for the door knob.

“It’s fine Carl, just stay.”
Maybe he’ll help me keep my mind off the two ticking time bombs
I have in this house: the unopened bottle of Johnny Walker Black in
my bottom desk drawer and Shay in the bedroom. Either one of those
could be my downfall tonight. It’s too much to ask for but I
really want Shay to wreck me in the bedroom like she always does,
leaving me unable to move, but at what cost?

Carl clears his throat, drawing me away
from the thought, which is good because standing here in front of him
at “half staff” probably isn’t my slickest move.
“You want something to drink? I’ve got soda, water, milk
and some juice. I also have a shit ton of mixers but no booze.”
That’s a fucking lie; that bottle of Johnny whispers my name.

“Water, please.” Carl
smiles; his southern drawl really doesn’t fit him and it makes
me wonder if it’s a put-on.

“So Carl, where’re you
from?” Let’s see what he comes up with; probably go for
the obvious like Mississippi or Georgia. Honestly if I had to guess
I’d say Texas. Not to mention the sheer size of this
motherfucker. Everything’s bigger in Texas, right?

“The Philippines,” he states
simply.

His answer stops me in my tracks. “The
Philippines?” I’m dubious, considering I’ve never
heard anyone from the Philippines with a thick drawl like Carl’s.

“Yeah, I came to the States when I
was ten.” He takes the water.

“Where did you land then?”

“All over really; been a little
bit of everywhere.” He nods confirming his nomad status.

“How long have you been working
with McFruitcake.” I can’t bring myself to take that guy
seriously. I mean, Carl seems like an okay guy. Anyone willing to
stand guard for Shay like he did is all right in my book.

“McNab and I have been associates
for a long while.” He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t
appreciate my personification of Sir Fruitcake.

“So you take all of that
seriously? The paranormal crap.” I really can’t buy into
it. I’ve heard so many bullshit stories in the courtroom. Now
having someone try to peddle this line of hocus pocus is just
ridiculous. Carl is a grown man; he’s got to be in his
thirties, old enough to know better.

“Don’t you?” he says,
leaning across the breakfast bar.

“No.”

“So what’s your explanation
of what’s happening with Shay?” he challenges.

“I think it’s all some sort
of misunderstanding.” I really don’t know what to make of
it, but I’m not buying his ghost stories.

“Ghost stories?” He
straightens up raising an eyebrow.

Shit did I say that out loud? “Yeah,
I’m not buying this Specter story. It’s just not
plausible.”

“McNab will figure it all out; I’m
confident he’ll be able to help her.”

“I hope so; I’m not sure how
much longer I’m going to have a job if this keeps up. I’m
not Aiden Roth, born with a silver spoon in my mouth.” I choke
on his name when I say it. I’m so fucking mad at him. I really
do think he’s lost it. He tried to kill her.

“You should lighten up on Aiden;
you don’t know what he’s going through.” He says it
sympathetically as though he does know.

“Are you ever going to tell me
what happened that night?” I know there’s more to the
story than he’s telling. I just don’t understand his
motivation for not helping us get him.

“I did tell you what happened. I
heard two gunshots. I entered the home and Shay was lying on the
floor alone. I called 9-1-1 and got her out of there when I saw the
fire.” He says it simply, he’s just not talking. This is
useless.

“You want to watch the game?”
I abandon all hope of him filling me in. I know Shay will get her
memory back and she’ll tell me what happened.

“Sure, why not.”

Shay

My dreams have been so restless lately;
as if someone or something is trying to break through but I can’t
reach them. It’s as though I’m watching from far away or
on a TV with a bad antenna. Looking around trying to see where I am,
it comes in a little clearer: my living room. The windows are broken
and the curtains wave with the wind snagging on the broken glass. It
looks like there was a fire in the living room. The furniture is all
still in its place but there is blood on the walls.

I sit on the couch taking it all in.
Words in blood come into focus:

For you my love. I did it for you.

Something moves in the shadows outside.
“Gabriel?” I see the outline of him in the distance.
Seeing him lifts a pain from deep within me blanketing my being. I
didn’t realize the pain was there. Having him within my reach
makes me feel like I’m suffocating from the distance between
us.

“Gabriel, I’m here,” I
shout, walking to climb through the broken window to go to him. I
can’t raise my feet to the ledge; something unseen is holding
them down. The door! I run around the couch to the door, but the knob
won’t turn. I pull on it, looking around the burnt out room for
something to smash the knob off. There’s nothing.