Chapter Seven
Wade Cooper
Ava has the kind of bright, sincere smile that would make you smile in return. Maybe if she'd tried to convince me to switch places with a different bodyguard while smiling, I would have been disarmed and it would have worked enough for me to consider picking up the phone and requesting that a new bodyguard be sent before I came to my senses.
Regardless, if she'd smiled at me, maybe I would have liked it too much to even think of getting myself replaced.
Ever since this whole incident began, the closest expression to a smile that she'd given me was sarcastic laughter that came from a place of desperation. As though she is trying to get me to hate her and ditch the job.
I know she feels weird about me being her bodyguard because of the night we shared, so I didn't blame her. Her insistence simply grated on my nerves.
* * * *
At this party, she's talking with most people, her jovial, warm energy makes conversation not only easy but stimulating. Even the most socially anxious person could have a conversation with her for hours without feeling weird about themselves or feeling the urge to run away to somewhere quiet.
It's beautiful to see.
She is talking to a group of women and each woman naturally gravitates towards her. Her graceful, feminine laughter. That joyous way she speaks to everyone.
Ava carries herself with grace that's effortless and with a charisma that's natural.
She's at the center of every joke, every vibe, and everyone seems comfortable with her.
Of course, apart from keeping an eye out for potential threats, I have nothing better to do at this party than to follow her everywhere. And that, unwittingly, ensured that I heard every conversation she got into.
The party is a small gathering of old friends in the lounge of a fancy hotel. Each person is dressed according to their taste, but all casual. The purpose of this was to catch up and having as good a time as they could.
“The way we used to do in college.” That was part of Ava's excuse to be here. Her desperation and frustration had been enough to make me align to her wishes. It can't be easy being indoors all day when you’re naturally outgoing and busy around the clock. Be it at a party or at work, it was a complete lifestyle switch from what I know she's used to.
Seeing her in this light at this party just made Ava Anderson appear two times better to me. This begs the question. Who in their right minds would want this sweet, angelic woman dead? And why? She doesn't seem like someone who can cause any form of harm to someone else. At least, not one heinous enough to warrant her life being the price for whatever it was she did.
From my experience in the military and over the years, though, I know a killer doesn't exactly need a reason to kill. It's part of why serial killers sometimes kill at random. As long as you breathed, you offended them. And maybe Ava had somehow become one of the people they periodically circled in red.
That, in itself, is enough motivation to keep her alive. No one deserves to die for no reason. And even if they did deserve to die, that was best decided by a court where there's a meaningful margin that decides if being killed is justified or not.
“I ran into you at Target a few months ago,” a woman says. “You had a little boy in your arms. Forgive me if this seems nosy, but you didn't tell me you'd gotten married.”
I can't believe that, when I saw the way Ava was with everyone, I'd thought this party would be free of gossip targeted at her.
There's always that one person…
Ava looks calm and composed when she answers with a soft smile. “Silly you. I didn't tell you because I'm not married.” She raised her fingers to show them how bare and ring-free it is .
“You were babysitting a family's kid, then?” The woman presses and I feel the urge to shove her to the exit of the lounge where the party is going on.
“No,” Ava responds with an easy smile, but I can see that she's not quite enjoying the indirect route the woman is using to pry into her life. I mean, it made sense that if she wants to know who DJ is, she can always straight out ask. But again, some people like the drama that comes with prying and nosing their way to the truth instead of getting straight to it. “He’s my son. His name's Daniel.”
While the other women gush and ask where the little boy is, the woman gasps and says, “You have a son?”
“Oh, cut it out, Margaret. You act like it's a sin,” A woman I know as Janet scolds.
“Just because you escaped any form of scandal with a hurried wedding doesn't mean we can't tell that you got pregnant before you made it to the altar.”
The woman scowls and some people titter.
I smiled despite myself.
“Honestly, I'm glad I was able to escape Daniel's father. I'd have never gotten this far if he was still in my life. Now, who wants more drinks? I hear if we buy enough, we get a free round of drinks.”
Some people cheer and the party carries on .
I practically mix in with the men while keeping an eye on Ava, telling them that she invited me because she wanted me to meet them. I have little to contribute to their conversations, but that’s fine by me. The less I talk, the more I can focus.
Ava is at the bar with her friends, sipping drinks while some people laugh and dance to a happy tune playing in the lounge behind them. A couple of people are sitting together, catching up on their days after college. It looks mundane and perfect, but I can feel it. Something's wrong.
I checked my phone to see if any of the security measures at her house had been triggered.
The house has been rewired in such a way that not triggering any of the sensors is absolutely impossible. Ava often triggers them without even knowing.
There's none. None.
That means the house is safe.
I look around closely, trying to find anything out of the ordinary. Anything I should be watching out for but like all the other times, there's nothing that appears as a threat.
I move even closer to Ava, scanning around her to see if there's anything that can possibly harm her. But even that proves needless. She's safe. But something tugs at my instincts. It makes me uncomfortable enough to suppress the urge to whip her away from the party and back home.
A couple of hours later I still feel this way. Thankfully, their little get-together is over and it's time to leave .
As they chatter and head out the exit of the hotel's top-floor lounge and towards the elevators, that instinct spikes and I casually grab Ava by the hand, making her pause before we get to the exit.
“Why don't we do something we won't normally do?”
Ava looks at me with innocent puzzlement, her eyes gently questioning why.
“Trust me,” I ask and she offers a hesitant nod.
I let go of her hand and the sudden loss of contact feels so prominent that I pause for a second before I suggest that we use the stairs.
“Why do you want to use the stairs?” Janet asks. “It’s a long walk all the way down.”
Ava shrugs and says, “I just feel like. Want to burn off all that sugar from the drinks we had.”
The elevator dings and the others start piling in.
Janet laughs. “That’s not how burning calories works, dear.”
Ava shrugs again.
Janet begins to step in, leaving only Ava and I standing outside the elevator.
“We’ll race you to the bottom,” she says and the elevator doors begin to slide close when all of a sudden, a loud creaking and groaning sound begins to come from inside the car. It happens in a split second—the occupants of the car look up and around when a loud snapping sound, like the crack of a whip, sends them disappearing down.
Ava's scream rips through the empty corridor.
Their screams echo in the elevator shaft and a few seconds later, a resounding bang! silences everything.
Her eyes are wide open, her hands covering her open mouth and her eyes welling with tears.
I look down into the shaft and see the collapsed elevator car at the very bottom of the compartment.
There's no way they could have made it. Except by some miracle, there's absolutely no way.
* * * *
I guided Ava out of the station the moment she was done giving her statement to the police. She's wide-eyed and quiet, tears streaming down her face every now and then.
“She’s in shock,” said the medic at the hotel when the incident occurred.
The image of mangled bodies in that bloodied elevator will be forever burned into the back of my mind. I'm glad I'd shielded Ava from the sight. I guided her to my car, secured her in the passenger seat and drove back to her house.
This whole thing is more serious than I imagined .
Whoever wants her life is stopping at nothing to get it. They don't seem to care how many people they hurt or kill to achieve their goal, and I know that just one slip up can mean Ava would be lying in a coffin.
Just one slip up.
I navigate us through the traffic and I'm parking in front of her house in no time. I led us inside, after I ran around the perimeter searching for any threats before I bolted us in.
I see DJ is sleeping in his room, having been dropped off from preschool by the officer in charge of the boy.
Ava is still standing by the door, staring into space.
I take her by the shoulders, and she looks up at me, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She grips my shirt and leans into me, bitter sobs emanating from her and the only thing I can do as she cries is wrap my arms around her shoulders and rock on my feet to a steady rhythm so she can calm down.
* * * *
The digital clock sitting between books on the shelves at the end of the living room blinks 11:11 pm.
Ava is rocking back and forth on her seat on the sofa while I offer her a glass of water.
Steady hours of letting herself grieve must be exhausting. And since she won't eat anything, I figured a glass of water has to do until she's ready. She takes a sip and refuses anymore. I sit with her on the sofa, my hand on her shoulder so she knows that she's not alone. I'd deliberately turned off all forms of media gadgets—the radio, the television—and taken her phone from her.
For now, I know it's enough just to sit in silence with her. To help her realize that she isn't alone.
Time passes like a snail crossing the road…
* * * *
The digital clock blinks at 1:03am.
Ava stirs and snuggles closer to me.
“My mom used to work on a farm,” her voice is so faint that I almost didn't catch it. “She used to bring home so many fruits for us during harvest season. And sometimes when it was time for the farm to sell livestock, some workers got bonuses in the form of animal parts from formerly live chickens.” She sighs.
“I miss the days when all I worried about was what my mom would bring home and what new, out of the ordinary recipe she would introduce to us. When all I cared about was hiding under my bed from the scary thunder and contemplating when it would be appropriate to invite the new kid to play with my gang.
“I’m an only child,” she announces with a cracked voice. “Can you tell?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. ”
If I hadn’t gone through the records provided by the station already, I would have thought she had a bunch of siblings scattered all over the globe.
“Mom tells me that anyone can be a sibling. You just have to love them enough and have them love you the same way. It's why I have so many friends, you know. After years of asking my mom when I'd get a baby brother or a baby sister, I gave up and decided that I could find my own for myself.”
“How about your father?”
“The same as DJ’s. Deadbeat. And I'm glad it's that way. I'm too much of a fool when it comes to love. For a man who never loved me, I'm glad he ducked out of the responsibility of being a father. My son won't have to suffer for the loveless void that would only grow between us.”
I can understand her reasoning perfectly.
“My childhood was happy,” she continues, and a ghost smile travels across her face.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Right here in New York. Cold Spring. We lived there for ten years before moving to Manhattan. It's where I learned that singing isn't just art. In these old, abandoned castles, I used to sing so that it would echo across the country. Singing is giving life to lifeless things. And I wanted so badly for the world to feel the life I have inside of me. I want that every single day. It's an unceasing yearning that has churned inside of me for countless years. ”
She takes a deep breath and rests her head on my shoulder. I'm not sure what to do, so I stay there, simply listening to her speak and giving gentle responses to let her know that I can hear her and that I understand. Enough so that she won't hesitate to pour out her mind to me.
We discussed so many things. From where she grew up and her mom to how she got her first kiss and her job as a singer. She was only considered when the main singer ran late, and the manager was so desperate to save the show that he didn't care that the college waitress was wearing an apron when she mounted the stage to entertain guests who paid to see the main singer.
She pauses at some point and looks into my eyes, her face carrying the wonderful expression of gentle nostalgia. I want nothing more than to make her feel the peace that comes with understanding that she's safe. As long as I can keep being her eyes, watching and safeguarding her from danger, she's safe.
My heart squeezes when her eyes well up with tears again in the dim lighting of the living room.
“Why is everything so complicated?” she asks in a cracked whisper. “I don't want the kind of life where my friends are dead and there's a target on my head. I'd give anything to protect myself and DJ right now, Wade. Anything.” She sobs.
I cup her cheeks, unable to resist any longer and wanting to ease her pain, I lean down and plant a gentle kiss on her lips.
She clings onto me and kisses me back with unrestrained need. In her kiss, I feel all the pain that's swirling inside her and I wipe the tears that slide down her cheeks .
She puts her body weight on mine, and I lean back on the sofa so she can comfortably press her body into mine while I wrap my arms around her in a cuddle as we kiss. Her fingers find their way to my hair and zings of pleasure shoot downwards as she massages my roots.
It takes everything for me to pull from the kiss and sit up.She looks at me with wide, questioning eyes and I simply plant a kiss on her cheek to reassure her that it's all right and that I'm not going anywhere. I move my lips to her neck, kissing her delicate skin as she runs her hand over my shoulder, slowly pulling my jacket off me. I pull the neckline of her dress, eager to get more taste of her sweet skin.
Ava moves to pull off her dress, but I hold her wrists, shaking my head slightly. She looks around us and realizes that we are in the living room and her cheeks grow red a little, bashful at her reckless actions.
I laugh softly and grab her thighs, wrapping her legs around my waist as I stand us up from the sofa.
“What are you—” she asks softly, and I silence her with another kiss.
“Unless you want DJ to walk in and see us, I think we should take this to my room.” I whisper and move to the room I am staying in. Ava opens the door and I shut it behind us with my foot.
As soon as I drop her to the bed, the locked-up feelings burst out immediately and I lean my weight over her as I ravage her lips. A groan escapes from my throat at how loving and delicious she tastes. I just can’t get enough of her.
“Wade.” Ava pulls back, out of breath and her eyes widened but I’m not done yet .
My hands find their way to her back as I unzip and slowly pull her dress off her, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. My eyes run over her graceful body, the excitement in me growing as I see the beautiful woman that she is.
That night, it had been too dark for me to remember anything specific. We had simply satisfied our carnal desires that night without the use of foreplay or anything of the sort but tonight, I want to take her in. Slowly and surely.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks as she looks down at her thighs. I get that she must be feeling self-conscious due to my stare but I wonder how someone who looked like she does would ever feel less confident about themselves.
“You are breathtaking.” I answer, brushing her hair from her eyes and cupping her face in my hand.
“Well, let’s see you.” she replies playfully as her hand reaches to open my buttons and I assist her. Her warm palms roam over my chest and all the way down to my abs. The heated look in her eyes makes me unable to control myself now. I grab her, locking our lips together as my other hand reaches down to her breast and I feel her stir under me.
Ava moans as I work on her breast with my hand and her delightful sounds only ignites the fire in me to burn deeper. I move my lips to her flat belly, biting and sucking her flesh as her hand kneads my head carefully. This woman has ways of making my body yearn for every single bit of her and I never seem satisfied.
“Wade, I need you inside of me.” Ava breathes out impatiently and her hands move to my belt, but I hold her back .
Looking down at her face, the light shining down on her, I remember how frozen she was when she witnessed her friends’ deaths and I realize this may not be the right thing for her at the moment. I do not want her to wake tomorrow morning and run away from me just like she did that night.
“You need some rest.” I murmur and her face falls into a look of understanding.
“Stay with me?” She looks up at me and I nod gently, unable to reject her desperate plea. I lie down next to her, wrapping my hands around her slim waist as her breath falls into my chest.
Placing a kiss to the back of her head, I pat her carefully, almost as though I am taking care of a baby. She needs it. She needs me.
We lay in silence with her head on my shoulder, and in about half an hour, her breathing is soft and even.
I carry her to her bedroom, lay her down on the bed, and pull the covers up to her chin, watching the sad expression on her lips before walking out and closing the door with a soft snick behind me.
Inside, I feel my heart go out to her, and I want nothing more than to make all her pain go away. But I know what this is, and if I don't put a hold on the affection blooming inside of me for her, I know I might regret it. The same way I regretted falling in love the very first time.