Chapter 60
Nothing makes one drive like an eighty-year-old woman quite like a bag of weapons in the boot of a car.
I drive to the hotel, cursing every twat that feels the need to ride my arse.
The last thing I need is a crash. Tied for the last thing I need is to be pulled over for speeding and land in jail when they check the boot.
I want the weapons out, but I can’t risk lugging them to my hotel room or worse: having someone else do it for me.
My only choice is to leave them in the boot and deal with them tomorrow, so that’s what I do.
Another sleepless night ends in a sunrise that’s blinding and daunting.
Now what? I need to figure out who killed Theo’s mum.
That’s the only way to keep him from killing Braxton Ames and risking life in prison or worse.
The problem is I can’t leave him unattended.
It won’t take much to replace his weapons.
Americans show great pride in worshiping their Second Amendment like a religion.
Gathering my computer, I put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and head to Starbucks.
Like yesterday, I park across the street.
Parking next to his flat is too risky, especially since he’s probably on high alert after returning last night to the scene of a weapons robbery.
I hope he needs his coffee this morning.
A big pair of black sunglasses cover most of my face.
I thought I needed to add them to my hat disguise.
I spy him in my mirror, so I scoot down a bit even though he’s on the other side of the street.
Again, he has on a long-sleeve shirt, beanie, and sunglasses.
He looks around before opening the door to Starbucks.
I tip my head down when his head turns in my direction.
When the door shuts behind him, I release the breath I’ve been holding. A few minutes later he comes out, but instead of walking toward his truck the way he came, he heads in the opposite direction, disappearing around the front of the building.
“Where are you going?” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I contemplate following him versus waiting for him to come back around the corner.
A tracking device would be much easier. That’s what Oscar would do.
I might have to acquire one so that I have more time to devote to Kathryn’s murderer.
I’m not used to leaving my house or hotel room to conduct my business.
Mobiles and tracking devices usually do the job, but I don’t have help on this, so here I am, following Theo the old-fashioned way. I’m completely rubbish at it.
“Shit!” I jump when something shakes my car like someone ran into the back of me, but when I look in my mirror, I don’t see anything except the vacant car that’s been parked behind me for the last forty-five minutes.
There was a crushing sound, I know something hit me.
“Fuck it, what the hell was that?” I mutter, releasing my seatbelt then glancing at the corner to check once more for Theo. As soon as I unlock the door, it opens.
“Ah!” My scream is silenced by a large hand over my mouth.
“Over,” Theo’s gritty voice sends prickly bumps along my skin.
He doesn’t wait for me to move before lifting my body with one hand while keeping my mouth covered with his other hand. My bum lands in the passenger seat.
“Fucking scream and I’ll shove the lone knife you left me right into your heart. Understood?”
No, I don’t understand, but since his massive hand covers both my mouth and nose, I nod because my lungs crave some oxygen. He eases his hand away from my mouth, testing my response. I have no response. What’s happening?
Theo starts the car and pulls out into traffic. The only sound in the car is my heart hammering in my chest. I am his song.
He can’t stab his song in the chest!
“How did you know?” I whisper, not wanting to be stabbed in the chest. But if I’m honest, it already feels like that’s what he’s done.
He gives me a quick, menacing sideways glance, the one where he bares his teeth a bit. “I smelled you. The second I walked through my door, I smelled your fucking scent.”
Scent. Hmm … most experts solve crimes with fingerprints or eyewitnesses. Nope. Theodore Reed is a bloody hound dog. That’s why I like to work from my flat where no one can smell my scent.
“And there was a fucking plant in my tub.”
Phoebe. How did I forget her? Oh, that’s right … I had a bag of weapons that needed to be hauled to my car.
He pulls into a parking spot outside of his flat and shoves my car into park. “If you run, I will catch you and it won’t be pretty.”
The last time he caught me, it changed everything. Our nothing became a very real something. I don’t think if I run this time it will end with him worshiping my body in the shallow moonlit waters of the Atlantic.
“I mean it. Whatever you thought you knew about me no longer exists. I’m not that guy. If you want to live, you’d better let every fucking memory go. They are all dead.”
Who is this man? I physically feel nauseous. I came here because I didn’t want to live without him, only to find out it’s the only chance I have to live at all. Bloody great.
“Wait right there.” He gets out and walks around to my side and opens the door. “Get out.”
I get out, feeling quite wobbly.
“Ow!” I groan when the tip of his knife digs into the small of my back.
“Shut up and walk.” He leads me into the block and into the lift.
I blink back my tears. This cannot be happening. I’m his song. His tears didn’t need to fall for me to see them. I saw the emotion—the love—in his eyes when we made love. It was hard and brutal, but it was love. Painful … beautiful love.
“Hold the elevator!” a voice calls.
I reach out to push the open button, but Theo yanks my arm back. The frantic woman, with her arms full of groceries, manages to make it in time to stop the doors with her foot.
“Close call.” She smiles stepping into the lift. Then she frowns. “Are you okay?”
Theo scowls at the tears running down my cheeks then his face softens. “Her grandma died.” After tucking the knife into the back of his trousers, he cradles my face and wipes away my tears with his thumbs.
“Fu—” He cuts off my “fuck you” by kissing me. I can sense the woman’s discomfort with our display of affection that is not at all fitting for grieving the death of a loved one. I try to push him away, but he grabs my wrists and backs me against the wall, shoving his tongue further down my throat.
The lift stops on the third floor.
“Uh … sorry about your grandma.” She hurries off and the doors close.
He pulls away, both of us breathless.
Smack!
My hand connects with his face. He narrows his eyes and reaches for the knife but pulls his hand back without it as the doors open to the fourth floor.
I tumble into the lifeless hallway with his hand clutched to the back of my neck—hard—guiding me toward his flat as my feet stumble to keep up.
After unlocking the door, he shoves me inside, sending me stumbling to the ground.
The door slams shut, and he locks it as I scramble to my feet.
This man has crushed my heart. I’m not even sure it’s still beating. Reaching around, I press my fingers to the area on my back where he held the knife to me. It stings. Holding my hand out, I focus on the blood. It’s not a deep cut, but it’s still bleeding.
My gaze lifts to his, but he’s staring at the blood on my fingers.
I wait.
I watch.
Show me the slightest twitch of regret, Theo.
“You cut me.”
Cold, hard eyes snap to mine. “You followed me. You broke into my apartment and stole my things.”
“I’m your song.” I tip my chin up and bite back my emotion.
He shakes his head. “You’re nothing.”
I look down, hiding from the hate in his eyes while focusing on the blood as I rub my fingers together. “You’re worse than the cancer.” I don’t care about the cut, even if I were bleeding to death. We are dying and that is … indescribable.
When I look up again, the muscles in his jaw flex as he returns his gaze to the blood on my fingers.
“I hope your dirty knife gives me some flesh-eating infection so you can watch me slowly die. My rotten, putrid stench filling the air around you. When that happens, just remember … her name is Karma and she’s one unforgiving bitch.
” If we’re dying, it’s going to be with guns blazing. I will not censor a single emotion.
He looks at me, not a crack to the iciness in his stare. “Sit.” He nods to the folding chair.
“Go to Hell.”
He barrels toward me. Six months ago I would have retreated until my bum landed in the chair. Not now. I refuse to fear this man anymore, even if he takes my last heartbeat.
“Sit. Down.” His black boots hit the toes of my neon yellow trainers.
“Go. To. Hell.” I squint at him.
Grabbing my shoulders, he shoves me back until my arse does in fact hit the chair. The back of it scrapes against my wound. I try not to grimace, but I can’t completely avoid it.
“You shouldn’t have come.” He grabs several rags from the kitchen and rips them into strips.
I bite back my words. He’s not worth them.
He ties my arms behind my back, and then he binds my legs to the chair before disappearing to the bathroom. A few seconds later, he returns with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some tape, and gauze.
“Leave it,” I say with absolutely no emotion to my voice.
Theo squats down behind me and eases the back of my shirt up.
“I said LEAVE IT!” I heave my body to the side, sending the chair and the mad woman attached to it crashing to the ground.
“Jesus!” He grabs the chair to put us both upright.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I scream as loud as I can.
He jumps to his feet, nostrils flaring, hands fisted, and teeth bared. I don’t blink. I’m the fucking queen of stare offs. Bring it on, arsebadger.
Theo stomps off.
Door slam.
Bang!
Something hits the wall in his bedroom.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I close my eyes and let my cheek rest against the dirty gray carpet.
Twenty minutes—hell, it could be an hour later, I’ve lost sense of time—Theo comes out of his bedroom. I turn my head enough to see him filling a glass with water. His other hand has a T-shirt wrapped around it. The fabric around his knuckles is tinged with blood.
How did this happen? In a matter of days, I’ve gone from wanting everything with this man to wanting nothing—not even my next breath.
It’s as if I was on life support and he pulled the plug.
Again, I close my eyes and wait to escape this moment—sleep, unconsciousness, death—it no longer matters. I’m ready to tap out.
My name is Scarlet Stone, and I’m not afraid of death. My mum waits for me with open arms.
*
That voice. It comforts me. In my dreams it wraps around me like a warm cocoon. Guarding me. Saving me. Loving me.
“You need to eat and drink.”
I blink open my eyes. It’s dark except for the small lamp on the floor in the corner of the room, glowing yellow. It’s night or early morning. I don’t know. My chair and I have magically found an upright position again. My shoulders burn but my hands and feet tingle with numbness.
That voice. It’s the one from my dreams. But it’s no longer warm. It’s dull and lifeless like the eyes staring back at me. It’s no longer guarding me. Saving me. Loving me.
Why can’t this be a nightmare?
Why can’t I wake up?
“Eat.” Theo holds spaghetti twirled around a fork in front of my face.
I turn my head to the side.
“You’re going to eat.”
He’s so very wrong.
“Drink.” He jabs a straw at my lips.
I bite them together.
“So goddamn stubborn,” he mutters as he stands.
I grunt when he clutches my chin, tipping my head back enough to part my lips. Some sort of sugary juice runs into my mouth and down the sides of my face as I reject his attempts. As soon as he releases my chin, I spit it in his face.
Theo’s expression hardens even more as he lifts his shirt to wipe his face.
“I will not eat. I will not drink. I will not live for you.”
I hate him. He made me love him. He made me want to live. And then he took it all away.
The muscles in his arms shift as he clenches his fists over and over.
“Hit me. Beat me. Cut me. Rip my fucking world apart if that’s what you need.
You want the guns? They’re in my car. Go get them.
Load the clips. Shove the barrel down my throat and pull the trigger.
But I will not let you bandage my wounds, give me food, or make me drink anything. I. Will. Not. Live. For. You.”
He launches the glass of water at the sink and it shatters.
I don’t flinch. I’ll be his song. I’ll be the song that people play when they’re ready to end their life.
Theo can plant his fist into the wall until his hand falls off.
He can break every glass in the cupboard.
He can self-destruct before my eyes, but I will not live for him.
My eyes close and minutes later I hear the shower.
I fade back into the world where this is all a terrible illusion.
When I wake again, the glass is cleaned up and the door to Theo’s room is closed.
The light in the corner still flickers its yellow glow but behind me the sun peeks in through the blinds, giving more light to everything—except my life.
Navigating this world is beyond grueling sometimes. I keep waiting for my mind to wonder if Oscar will find me, if he will save me, but it won’t go there because I don’t want to be saved. Fighting the cancer. Fighting my emotions for Theo. It’s too much. I’m so tired. I want everything to be over.
A creak in the hinge of the bedroom door announces my captor’s approach. Where is my fear? It’s died already.
The door to the bathroom closes. The toilet flushes. The door opens.
My gaze stays glued to the floor.
“You need a bathroom break.”
Looking at him feels like too much effort, but I inch my eyes up to meet his anyway. “I needed one hours ago. So, I wet myself.” My eyes drop back to the floor.