9. Jack
9
JACK
My hands press against the damp wall, its rough texture grazing my skin. A tangled garden surrounds this underground space, and the relentless rain has turned the soil into a muddy barrier, blocking the only ventilation. As I inhale the rancid, mold-filled air, the door creaks open, revealing a silhouette. The wind disturbs his long hair as he reaches up to the back of his neck, concealing something.
I frantically scratch at the peeling paint on the wall, the gritty surface grating against my fingertips. In a matter of seconds, the figure engulfs me, and a searing pain shoots through my shoulder blades as if my spine is being exposed. I squirm, desperate to scream for help.
In a gasp, my eyes fly open to the sight of daylight. A friendly canine face greets me, a pink tongue eagerly licking my face. I let out a relieved huff, grateful that I didn’t reach the part where my screams would have roared and woken up everyone.
When Ava invited me to sleep with her in the same bed, I felt honor and joy. Yet, this nightmare is the one thing I dreaded .
“Good dog, Elmo,” I whisper, patting his head, which only fuels his enthusiasm to lick me more. “All right, all right. You don’t want to wake her up now, do you?” I glance at Ava, who’s still sound asleep.
Slowly, I lift myself, catching my breath. Damn you, Scalpel!
Elmo fidgets on my lap, his fluffy tail wagging like the spinning wheel of an express bus. Meanwhile, Ava starts to stir, turning toward me with her arm reaching up to my shoulder. “You okay?” she rasps.
“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” I brush her hand aside, but as she feels the dampness on my palm, she wakes up fully.
“You’re sweating!” she exclaims, patting my body. Her gaze then falls on a patch on my tank top. “Is it too hot in here?”
Not really, but I certainly look like a man who just stepped out of a gym. “I’m fine, Ava.”
Elmo leaps onto my chest, his nose pointed at my face, ready to lick me again.
“Elmo, come on, go easy on him,” Ava says. “How did he manage to get onto the bed?” She stretches to see my side and realizes the dog used my bag as a launching pad.
“Let him stay.” I pat Elmo’s head. “Good dog.”
Resting against the bedhead, Ava smiles, observing us. “The vet at the shelter said Elmo wouldn’t live past four. I had the option to cancel his adoption, but I loved him too much. He’s six now, and he’s still going strong.”
I wipe my face, clearing the remnants of Elmo’s kisses, then help the mutt off the bed.
“I guess it’s proof that love can keep anything alive,” I quip.
Ava’s azure eyes lock with mine, her love radiating like a lifeline that will sustain me for a hundred years. With restrained lust, I lean in to kiss her, wanting to confirm that yesterday wasn’t a fleeting moment. Oh yes, she craves more. Yesterday’s kiss was pure bliss, a taste of heaven. Now, as our lips meet again, a subtle dance of tongues ignites an irresistible heat.
Her body slowly sinks down until her back meets the mattress. I hover over her, propping myself up on my elbows. Our lips stay locked while her hands eagerly run over my abs. Then, they trail behind my back, gliding up along my spine until they reach the spot between my shoulder blades.
I arch my back. It doesn’t bother me that she’s touching my scar, but the moment feels tainted as my mind wanders momentarily to the dark figure in my nightmare.
Ava pulls away slightly, her expression reflecting the realization that we’ve rushed into things. She has a lot on her mind, more than what I’m trying to conceal.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
“Yeah.” I roll over to her side.
“I wanted it, Jack, but I don’t think the timing is right,” she explains.
I stroke her cheek, feeling a tingling sensation from the contact. “I wanted it too, but you’re right.”
She lifts herself a little, just enough to reach my lips.
“You up for breakfast?” I offer.
“I don’t feel like eating anything. You go.”
I hold her. “Ava Belle.”
She cocks a brow. “Ava Belle?”
“Look. You promised to take care of yourself. You didn’t have dinner last night.”
“Okay. I’ll have a banana.” She gives in. Then she tilts her head. “Why did you call me Ava Belle?”
I nod toward her T-shirt featuring Belle from Beauty and the Beast . “I didn’t know you were into Disney.”
She lets out a giggle. “It’s Cass’ tee.”
Of course. When Sam took her to his place, they didn’t bring anything with them .
Ava adds, “Apparently, they had a Disney-themed Christmas a few years ago at the request of Grace. This one looked comfy, so I picked it from the pile Cass offered me.” She pauses then mutters, “Ava Belle, eh?”
“You don’t like it? I’ll stick to the standard ‘sweetheart’ then.”
She twists her lips. “Have you ever called me sweetheart?”
“Haven’t I?” I have, many times, but perhaps not when she’s fully awake.
A grin accentuates her cute morning face. “I like it. I mean, both Ava Belle and sweetheart.”
I peck her soft, pink lips before throwing off the covers and moving myself to sit at the edge of the bed.
Ava caresses my bare skin, prompting me to quiver. No doubt she has found my scar again, but as if she understands, she doesn’t ask.
Years of my life have been devoted to the Corps and to finding the man responsible for ruining my childhood. My encounters with women have been purely physical, lacking any emotional attachment. But now, a force named Ava West has stripped me bare. In her presence, beyond a few sentimental photos, my yearning to commit myself to her deepens. And it feels damn special.
Some may argue this is simply a man’s instinct to protect, a trait that has existed since the beginning of time. But for someone who barely survived the horrors of abduction, tortured and turned into a shell of a human, my dedication to Ava goes beyond natural. It’s extraordinary.
We sit at the breakfast table, and Ava agrees to share a banana smoothie with me. As she takes a sip, she asks, “Why is Willem doing this? If he wants me back, just take me. Why make Quinton go through this? ”
Her eyes search mine for answers. At that moment, a vivid image of Willem’s smile at that restaurant flashes before me.
I reply, “He wants revenge. Firstly, you left him. Imagine the humiliation. His own fiancée ran away with his baby? And when people discover that his wedding isn’t going to go ahead? Ava, his ego will stop at nothing.”
She shakes her head as if she’s found an answer—a painful one. But even so, her eyes still look so stunning. “Maybe it’s more than ego.” Her face is full of thoughts. “And he may not want me back. You know, Jack. Willem’s mother left him when he was six. His father remarried and had another child with his new wife. Willem left home shortly after that to live with his grandfather. He never explained what really happened—whether his father didn’t want to take care of him anymore, or he was simply jealous.”
“So Willem wants to teach you a lesson for leaving?”
She sighs deeply. “What do we do now?”
Last night, the Red Mark men scoured possible areas where Quinton’s kidnapper might have taken him. They also tried to find any sightings of the babysitter, but so far, they’ve found nothing.
“We’ll widen the search,” I assert.
“Willem hired the babysitter because of her glowing reviews. I agreed to hire her because I thought she was good with Quinton and she was tidy. She was really tidy. Perhaps that made her able to cover her tracks every time.”
“Maybe. And, we may need to start thinking about involving the police.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “No!”
“Look, I heard from Sam that Red Mark has a good relationship with the Helena PD captain. They work together many times. We can trust him. ”
Ava nods. “In that case, we just have to trust that Willem won’t do anything to Quinton.”
“He won’t.” Despite my initial assessment of Willem and how much I hate that man, he’s not Scalpel. I don’t believe he’s capable of hurting his own son.
Ava’s fingers tap at the empty glass where the smoothie was. She then asks, “Jack, can I see those photos you took in L.A.? Those of the bearded man talking to Willem?”
I scramble for my phone and show her the photo she requested.
Ava squints at the image and questions, “Is that his car? Way in the background?”
That gets me thinking. “I didn’t see him coming from or going into that car, but why did you think so?”
“In some of the CCTV footage that Sam had, you know, when I was dumped at that park. He drove a similar car.”
Realization strikes me. I reach for the laptop Sam has left in this house, analyzing the footage Ava is referring to. “My God, you’re right.” Comparing it to the photo on my phone, I catch a rental car sticker on the windshield. And even though it’s blurry, I can make out the registration number on the photo I took. “Ava, you’re brilliant!”