Chapter 12 EZRA
The lights started first, then the sounds. All of it happened fast. Jacques picked me up and carried me to the bedroom. He jumped into a pair of sweats and grabbed a gun from a false bottom in a drawer as I sat naked, my entire body clenching when he told me to stay.
I didn’t hear a single gunshot. It was all happening in slow motion. A single tear dripped from the inner corner of my eye, and I couldn’t even gather the strength to wipe it. I was a goner, they’d come for me, and they were about to end it all.
In that moment, I wondered, how much did I have to live for?
Personally, the only thing I had right now was Jacques.
More tears came now, my entire body shivering on the bedroom floor as I sat in the corner.
Jacques had told me about a gun, but he said I wouldn’t need it.
I didn’t know if I would need it—I didn’t want to shoot a gun.
A whistle broke my internal crumble. “It’s okay.” Jacques’s voice traveled, before he appeared in the bedroom, out of breath, waving the gun and smiling. My nervous system was shot, and I didn’t know if I could even gather the energy or courage to celebrate. “Baby, it’s okay.”
It took the shock of cold water from the shower he walked me into before I felt a semblance of normalcy. My skin no longer felt like it was being zapped and my heart had stopped pumping like it was ready to give out. I’d calmed, and could finally process Jacques’s words.
“It was just Adrian,” he said, rubbing a soapy loofah on my back. “He was coming by to tell us we had to leave.”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere quiet, safe, and preferably not too far away.” He turned me around to wash the suds away.
“The people who are looking for us, they’re going to get close.
They’re going to take shots. I need you to know that you won’t be harmed.
The worst I fear is a little hearing loss from being too close to my gun when I shoot. ”
I stared into his eyes. They were warmer than they had been when we first met. That first time, I wanted to go explore, but now, I wanted to build a home and settle. It reminded me of seeing an image in space where galaxies and the cosmos were almost hypnotizing.
“You can choose,” he continued. “I think you should decide.”
“I thought you had your friend.”
He sighed and nodded. “I do, but she isn’t on the other end of the comms. I’ll try her again later.”
“Okay,” I said as he got all my bits soapy, and it tickled, especially with the way he went to town on my balls. I giggled. “There was that place close by.”
He nodded. “We’ll look at a map when you’re all clean.”
“You need to get clean too.” I splashed him with the water dripping down my arms.
He laughed. “I’ll do a quick full-body wash once you’re out,” he said. “I might get sidetracked and go for a second round if I shower with you.”
It was a fair assumption. I think sex would’ve healed the part of me that had seized when I’d thought someone was coming into the house to kill me.
I knew it would come, someone had tried already, but I hadn’t made peace with it.
In fact, my body was still in flight mode about the whole thing—and if possible, I was about to fly myself underground where they wouldn’t be able to find me ever.
I was all full of ideas about becoming invisible, or just accepting the fate of being a mole man who lived beneath the surface of the earth and would one day be part of life’s great mysteries . . . like, where did Ezra Cross go?
* * *
Looking at the map of all the places Jacques owned, I could really answer the question of where did Ezra Cross go because I was picking it out.
There were places in South America and Europe, but we were sticking to New England at least, and he had three—well, two not including this one—to pick from.
“Sugar Bay in Vermont, or Boston,” he said. “The place in Boston is a building I own with an abandoned bakery on the ground floor and a loft space where we can stay.”
I gritted my teeth. I really didn’t want to make the decision after all. I pointed at the one closest. “Sugar Bay sounds fun.”
Jacques pulled me inside his warm, rugged arms, squeezing as if I was a Twinkie with cream that hadn’t come out yet. “It’s all going to be okay,” he said.
“I know, because you’re with me.”
“That’s right, because I’m with you.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s head out after something to eat. I’m not letting you travel without a full belly.” He brushed his scruffy stubble against my cheek and kissed me again. “Mhm, you smell delicious.”
I stayed in front of the monitors as he went off to cook.
It was a lot to take in, and with a couple of clicks, I could see the house.
It was similar to this one. Right in front of the water.
If I hadn’t looked at a map and seen it was impossible, I would’ve said we could boat our way to it.
In fact, my fingers traced the length of the St. Lawrence River all the way up the map on the screen right into Montreal, and then followed it back down another river into Vermont and right to where Sugar Bay was.
I snorted a giggle to myself for even doing it.
But when I had something in my head, I had to see it through—almost a compulsion.
At the dining table we had fried pork sandwiches and a bag of chips.
It was delicious, and almost reminded me of my childhood—all that was missing was some cartoons.
Jacques made me feel so safe, it was almost like I could slip back into the feeling of being a kid again, except without all the parental pressures to be perfect and straight. Jacques was healing me.
“What’s got you smiling?” he asked, reaching over to wipe crumbs from my mouth.
I swallowed. “You,” I said, heat flushing my face. “You got me smiling.”
“Why?”
Gesturing to everything with a shrug, I didn’t know how to explain it. “It’s just a feeling,” I said.
“Aw, okay, well I’m glad I’ve got you feeling some type of way,” he said, pulling my ankle to him with both feet under the table. “Because you’ve got me feeling some type of way. You have since the first day we met.”
We were sitting across from each other like that first time when we were in the cafe. “I do,” I said, my fingers sinking into the bread and my toes curling, but not fighting back against the pull of his feet.
As we finished our sandwiches, there was something that caught Jacques’s attention.
I hadn’t heard it, or seen anything, but it put him on alert, and he told me to hide beneath the table.
If his face hadn’t turned stern, I might’ve thought he was just asking me under the table for some fun before we left, but this wasn’t fun.
The floorboards creaked upstairs.
Jacques dipped down to me, a finger to his lips. He grabbed a gun that had been concealed on a shelf tucked tight into the border of the table. It almost looked like he’d taken it from the darkness.
I tried not to go back to that space where I’d gone earlier—the dark depths of worry.
I knew Jacques would protect me. He was my protector, my everything in the moment, and ultimately, my lifeline.
I’d seen the money he had, the houses. We could’ve gone anywhere and lived happily for the rest of our lives.
But the work I had to do was too important, bringing down a giant.
Thud. Jumping at the sound, I almost knocked my head against the underside of the table.
Another thud, this one louder, like a sack of potatoes, followed by a second thud, and then a single gunshot.
Bang. It came and went. My heart raced, and I frisked myself for Mr. Thimble.
I’d left him on the desk by the monitors.
They could’ve taken him—they could’ve known everything I had was hiding inside him.
If they did, I might as well be dead, because I didn’t know what they’d do for a whistleblowing case that didn’t amount to any wrongdoing—but it definitely involved me being taken out.
One more gunshot and another loud thud came.
It was more intense the second time the shot happened.
I’d recoiled into a shell of myself, arms hugging around my knees tucked to my chest. I rocked on the spot, my focus on wanting to move, to go grab Mr. Thimble, but I knew at any moment they could come and grab me—they could come and I could be one of those thuds on the ground.
It seemed to go on, but it was over in minutes.
Jacques came stomping down the stairs, and if it wasn’t for the way I knew how his stomps sounded, I might not have had any hope at all.
His bare feet and the bottom of his sweats were covered in blood.
It’s all I could see for a moment until he appeared, squatting right in front of me at the opposite side of the table.
“You’ve probably guessed it,” he said with a grin that melted my shell.
There was blood on his face, and on his hands. “We’ve got to go.”
I wiped my face of the tears that had streamed without me knowing.
I didn’t want to cry, but the sounds had overwhelmed me, and in that moment of me being completely frozen, the only thing functioning seemed to be my tear ducts.
“Okay,” I finally let out in a squeak, letting go of my hands from around my knees.
“Good kitten,” he said, reaching out. I recoiled some more. “Sorry. I’ll clean myself off.”
I pushed up onto my bare feet, shuffling out the other side of the table before finding the energy and courage to stand. “What happened?” I asked, looking at Jacques in the light.
“They—five of them—came in through the upstairs terrace, hoping to get the jump on us, I assume,” he said. “They all found out why I’m called the Reaper.”
I gulped hard. It was the first time I’d seen Reaper. Now, in the light, I could see how much blood there was, but it didn’t bother him. He was soaked in it. “It makes you look different.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Was that all from a gun?”
He smiled at me, placing the gun on the table. “No. One of them had a knife.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Kitten, I’m not going to scare you with what I did,” he said. “Those acts of violence aren’t something you should be around. And I hope those gunshots didn’t scare you too much.”
My father’s voice was in my head—almost like he was dead and a faint memory, though he was still very much alive—telling me to toughen up a little, not in a menacing way, but like gentle parenting. I think that’s what they called it now. “I should get tougher,” I told him.
“Tougher? Baby, you don’t need to get tougher, you just need me around to make sure you stay protected.” He looked at both of his hands and sighed. “I’ll wash up. Stay right there.”
I nodded, staring at the gun. I had to leave the space.
I had to get Mr. Thimble. Jacques left me and I tiptoed off.
It was just to the bottom of the stairs, right where the monitors were.
Except Mr. Thimble wasn’t there. That meant he was .
. . upstairs. I had to toughen up, I had to see, I had to know what these people looked like, and the type of person they were to come and try to kill me.
I needed this, probably not more than I needed Mr. Thimble, though.
Halfway up the stairs on my tiptoes, Jacques appeared, shaking his head and smiling. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove,” he said. “But if you want to see what’s up there, I’ll show you. Then we leave. Immediately.”
“I—I need Mr. Thimble,” I said.
Jacques stuck his hand into his bulging pocket and pulled out the teddy. “I found him upstairs,” he said. “I grabbed him first. I think they know.”
From where I stood, I saw an lifeless arm, wearing black gloves and a long-sleeve black jacket. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“I’ll hire someone to come clean it up,” he said with a shrug. “Probably Adrian. He’s a good guy. He’ll keep this all hush. Trust me.”
He was right. I didn’t have to go upstairs or see any of it, so I didn’t.
The teddy was safe, and clenching Mr. Thimble a little tight, I knew the thumb drive was in there still.
I looked Jaques over, but his clothes were still dotted and covered in blood, so I didn’t got in for a hug like I wanted.
“Please tell me what you did to get that much—you know, blood on you.”
He nodded. “I will once we’re on that boat out of here.” He rubbed the back of his cold knuckles against the side of my cheek. His hands smelled of dish soap, but in my mind, they were still covered in blood.
“Is this—is this—” The words weren’t coming, the fear was in me.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise. Everything is okay.”
“But—” My jaw clenched so hard. “Is this what we’re going to be doing every single week?”
From the look on his face, dotted with blood splatter, I knew he couldn’t answer me, but with how soiled he appeared, I was comfortable and confident knowing he’d do what needed to be done to keep me and my evidence safe.