Chrysalis, p.12
Chrysalis, page 12
The name distracted me from analyzing my escape routes, and I stuttered to a stop. My quick movement had the smaller guy in the middle taking a cautionary step forward. “Why do you keep calling me that?” I asked almost in a whisper.
His laugh was ugly. “You can cut the fucking amnesia act. Maybe Chaos believes that shit, but I certainly don’t.”
“Shut up, Ramirez.” The smaller one was clearly in charge, just like I’d originally thought. “Our orders are to bring him in. That’s it. No fucking conversation. You have questions? You ask the boss.”
I frowned. “And who exactly is the boss?”
He smiled. “Does it matter? You’re coming with us.”
On one hand, that would be the quickest way to find out some answers. On the other, it was also a very good way to wind up very dead. I had a feeling the boss didn’t need me for a lively Q&A session. More likely, he wanted to watch someone put a bullet in my head to make sure I was dead this time around.
“Yeah, I don’t see that happening,” I said slowly.
We all eyed one other for a few moments. For my part, I was waiting for someone to get froggy first because it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me. If I could avoid getting my ass beat by three guys who looked like they enjoyed breaking bones, I would. The guy with the white sneakers flexed his fingers.
Ramirez cocked his gun, and my eyes widened. Well, shit. I guess he took that “no hand-to-hand combat” order seriously. He didn’t hesitate to confirm my suspicions. “I will shoot you.”
“Good to know,” was all I said before I stepped forward. Ramirez pulled the trigger just as I ducked down and grabbed his arm in one smooth motion. The shot went wild. I squeezed his wrist before he could get off another shot, and he cried out. The gun dropped from his suddenly nerveless fingers.
I could see Sneakers coming toward me out of my peripheral, but I was prepared. I knew he’d try to take advantage of my distraction and go for the sneak attack… because he was a coward, and that’s what cowards did. I drove my elbow up sharp and high into his face, and he gasped, stumbling back a bit. I took that opportunity to teach him why wearing sneakers to a fight was stupid and jammed my boot down on his foot to keep him in place. He howled as I pulled Ramirez closer.
I planted my other foot in Ramirez’s stomach and extended my leg, sending him flying across the room and against the wall…no, into the wall. He fell like a cartoon, and my eyes widened in shock as I saw the dent his body left in the drywall.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
His foot still trapped under my boot, I rammed Sneakers again with my elbow, this time dead center in the chest, and he wrenched out of my grasp and stumbled backward. Off-balance, he stumbled into my coffee table and fell, shattering the glass into a million pieces. He groaned pitifully.
He rolled out of the mess, glass crunching in his wake. “Aw, man,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Nice. That’s real nice.”
He stumbled to his feet. “Sorry.”
“I don’t even know where I got that table. My mother could’ve given me that.” I huffed. “It could be a goddamned antique for all I know.”
“No way!”
“Could be.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he insisted. “My sister has one like that.”
“Maybe you’re right.” I sighed. “Where’d she get it, anyway?”
“IKEA, I think.” He scratched his head. “It had some weird name. Sklar or something?”
I peered at him. “Isn’t that a brand of cigarettes?”
“No, I think you’re thinking of Dakar, the cologne.”
“Kill him, you idiot,” the smaller guy screamed.
I took that moment to knee Sneakers in the groin. He groaned as he sank to his knees in slow motion and then toppled over, still cupping his junk protectively. It was a dick move—no pun intended—but come on, give me a break. I was fighting two guys, after all. Ramirez staggered to his feet from across the room, and I wanted to groan. Fuck. Three guys again.
I kicked Sneakers in the stomach, just to make sure he stayed down, even as I blocked a punch from a dazed Ramirez. I planted a fist into his ugly mug that sent him back into the wall. He looked stunned for a few seconds before he slid down to the ground and slumped on his side.
“You should stay down,” I said helpfully.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled again, and I dropped into a crouch as another fist came over my head with deadly force and accuracy, so close that I heard a whistle. I pivoted and planted an uppercut to the smaller guy’s chin that knocked him clean off his feet…and into the ceiling. He dented the popcorn ceiling with his noggin before falling in a heap.
I swore. I was never gonna get my security deposit back. I was pretty sure there was a no dead guys in the living room clause.
The door swung open, and another guy in black walked in. Surprise crossed his face briefly as he looked around at the carnage of my previously pristine living room. I gave him a meaningful eyebrow lift, just in case he was a little slow on the uptake. His face tightened with determination as he pulled out two knives. He faced me with one in each hand.
“Seriously?” I demanded.
He snarled and charged. What was supposed to be a quick attack seemed slow and lumbering to me, and I watched him, almost curiously, as time seemed to slow. Or maybe my reflexes were just that fast. I stepped aside at the last minute, so he ran headfirst into the Formica island. His knives clattered to the floor as he crumpled to the ground.
I had to hand it to him—he recovered fast, scrambling for his knives. But I was faster. I grabbed one of them and sank it into his belly. He gasped, grabbing for my hand. We were frozen there for a moment, macabrely holding hands, until he fell back on the floor. I pulled the knife out swiftly.
Sneakers groaned. I glanced over to see him crawling across the floor at the speed of slow. I sighed. I was glad I had someone left to interrogate, but why did it have to be the stupidest of the bunch?
I walked over to him and planted my foot on his back to stop him. Then I used that foot to roll him over…kick him over, rather. He coughed blood that splattered on the bottom of my jeans. “Who are you?” I demanded as I crouched down beside him.
“Does it matter?” He chuckled, showing a bloody smile. “Maybe I’ll go see your little doctor next.”
“The fuck you just say to me?” My anger was boiling so hot I was almost afraid…of myself.
He coughed a few more times. “You heard me.”
Another memory came out of nowhere, distracting me as effectively as waving a red flag in a charging bull’s face. Gray came out of the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist, his blond messy waves damp and caught up with a hair tie. He gave me a wicked little smile and dropped the towel. I tangled my hand in his hair, bringing his face up to mine. A blur of images followed, mostly of us in the foggy mirror of the bathroom. His hands on the vanity, his head hanging between his shoulders as I fucked into him slowly. He was mine. Had always been mine. Would always be mine. And now I had to leave him to protect him.
I watched him in the mirror, transfixed. I felt both lucky to have had him…and desolate to have lost him. He arched up as he came, his mouth open, his eyes screwed shut. I love you. So fucking much. I left him the very next day.
Sneakers spat out more blood, and I frowned down at him. He looked a little dazed now, probably from the blood loss.
“Look at me,” I demanded. When he didn’t, I lifted his head in my hands. “Who sent you here?”
He went slack in my hands, and I saw the exact moment the life left his eyes. I lowered his head to the floor. It was only then that I realized my hands were shaking. Whatever coolness I’d had in the fight had deserted me, and it was starting to sink in that I’d killed a man. More than one, and so quietly and quickly that no one even had an inkling that anything had gone on in my apartment.
Worse yet, I had a feeling they weren’t the first.
My movements jerky, I stumbled to the sink. I turned on the water and let it run for a few moments, dealing with that reality. I pumped a couple of squirts of hand soap in my blood-spattered palms and scrubbed them raw. After a few minutes, I dried them off and took a deep breath.
There were still specks of blood under my fingernails. I pumped more soap and washed them again. And again. And again, until my hands squeaked against one another and the blood was nothing but a memory. I inspected my nails again, and they were blurry—it took me a second to realize that my eyes were watering. Whelp. Any trace of the stone-cold killer had fled the building.
Get it together, Cross.
I splashed some water on my face and dried it on my shirt. Then I headed into the living room where I’d left my packed bag. I shouldered it, looking around the apartment. I needed to hit the hardware store to get the proper implements that would help me dispose of the bodies. I didn’t question why Former Me knew exactly how to do that. I proceeded to let myself out the same way I let myself in.
It was dusk, which meant I’d been in there longer than I thought. The neighborhood had come alive as the after-work crowd trickled in. I headed down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, hands stuffed in my pockets. I passed by a couple of kids on the street, who were cursing loudly at one another. A few guys played basketball on a rundown court as a couple of streetlights flickered, struggling to light up the entire square. At this point, I wished I was any one of them. Someone other than a guy getting supplies to dispose of four bodies.
This was my life, though, wasn’t it? For the first time since I’d woken up from my surgery, I was glad I’d broken up with Gray. I was glad I’d hurt him so badly he’d never consider letting me in again. And I was so very glad that he’d found a way to move on from the mess that was Christian Cross.
Too bad I couldn’t do the same.
It was dark by the time I made it back with two bags full of supplies. I walked in expecting to see the carnage I’d left and blinked. The place was pristine. I let the heavy bags slide to the floor.
The signs of the fight were still there, so I wasn’t crazy, at least. There was still a sizable dent in the wall and the ceiling, and the coffee table was still missing. But the glass had been cleaned up. There was no blood to be found anywhere. I crouched down by the spot where Sneakers had gasped his last bloody words and pressed two fingers into the carpet. It was slightly damp. When I put my fingers to my nose, I smelled bleach.
I stood, looking around the room slowly. Maybe they hadn’t been dead. Maybe they’d gotten up and left. And just so happened to clean up the mess as they left because they’re such nice guys? Come on, Cross.
Someone had cleaned up the bodies before I could… someone who had just as much to lose as I did. I spotted a yellow piece of paper on the counter that hadn’t been there before and strode over to it. I scanned it, the contents making my stomach flip.
Give me a call when you want to find out who you really are.
Not bloody likely.
I got back to Gray’s house well after dark. I didn’t go inside immediately. Instead, I stood in the shadows of the yard for a while, staring up at the house. Light flooded the living room and spilled over the windowsill like a trail of melting butter. It looked so warm and welcoming. Safe. I noticed Gray come by the window several times and peer out. I knew he was looking for me. I knew I should walk away. I also knew I was going to do no such thing.
I came inside to the smell of something fragrant. When I walked into the kitchen, he was at the stove, stirring a pot with quick, irritated motions. Well-worn jeans caressed his thighs and hugged his butt in just the right way. His hair was mussed like he’d run his hands through it more than a few times. I made a sound, and he turned around.
Relief flashed through his eyes before irritation took over. “Where the hell have you been?”
The tone of his voice sent me back a few steps automatically. “I didn’t know I had a curfew.” My brow furrowed. “What’s up?”
“It might have been nice for you to call.”
“With what? I don’t have a cell phone. And I haven’t seen a payphone since 1992.”
“I just…I was worried, okay?”
I couldn’t explain why that made me feel so warm inside. I had discovered things about myself today, horrible things that made it impossible for me to ever be with someone as good and decent as Gray. That was undeniable. But just for a moment, one bloody moment, everything between us was alright. He was the only person in the world who cared whether I lived or died, and all that worry was right there in his whiskey-brown eyes.
I opened my mouth to say sorry when someone snorted from behind me. “Jesus, Gray, chill.” We both glanced over at the doorway to see Devin striding in from the living room. He sent me a smile that in no way reached his eyes. “He’s a big boy. I’m sure he knows how to find his way.”
Right. His presence was the equivalent of cold water over us both. Gray turned back to the stove and went back to stirring whatever was in his Le Creuset. I could see the tension in the long, lanky lines of his body and in the way he held his shoulders. Tendrils of hair escaped his bun, brushing against the back of his neck. I wanted to press a kiss there. Slide my arms around his waist and notch my chin over his shoulder while I teased him.
I blinked to find Devin staring at me, a hard expression on his classically handsome face. I cleared my throat. “Is that dinner?” I asked hopefully, directing my question at Gray’s back.
“Yeah.” He glanced back over his shoulder with a tiny smile. “It’s not your chili—”
“Thank God—”
“But I thought you might like some of my homemade chicken tortilla soup. It’s your favorite.” He turned back around. “Was your favorite.”
“Thank you.”
“So. Did you find any answers?” he asked.
I didn’t ask how he even knew I was looking. I thought about the sterile apartment with the unslept-in bed. “No.”
“Are you going to keep looking?”
“Yes.”
He stirred furiously. “Good.”
After a properly awkward but delicious dinner, I escaped upstairs. I locked my door, just in case, before I pulled the flash drive and mysterious vial out of my pocket. I turned the vial over in my fingers. A small air bubble suspended in the liquid floated lazily from one end to the other. I needed to have the solution analyzed as soon as possible…somehow. After all, it wasn’t as though I had a team of brilliant CSIs—and sexy, don’t forget sexy—at my beck and call.
I didn’t want to put the vial and flash drive in my safe room—I didn’t know if I could get there if I needed to rabbit in a hurry. I looked around the room, wishing Gray wasn’t quite so bloody organized. I discarded several hiding places before eyeing the bear on the dresser. Hiding things inside the unexpected seemed to be working out for me so far.
I turned the bear over in my hands, feeling his furry sides until I came across a tiny zipper. I stashed the flash drive and the vial inside and zippered him back up before sitting him back on the dresser. He stared at me with big anime eyes just begging me to squeeze his paw. I sighed. Obviously, he was bursting at the seams so he could finally say what he’d been holding in all this time.
Well, he was serving as my impromptu hiding place. I guess I owed him. “This better be good,” I said as I squeezed his paw.
“I love you beary much,” he said excitedly.
I responded the only way I could. “Shut up.”
12
No one had heard of me at Worldwide Insurance.
I classified my current mood as entirely unsurprised but thoroughly irritated, mostly because I was turning out to be the human version of a Russian nesting doll. I could appreciate the ingenuity of my former self for planting false leads. I could also appreciate the irony that I had no idea I was going to have to follow those leads.
As I exited the building, I spotted an ATM and decided to make a withdrawal. No need to waste a trip. The woman using the machine didn’t seem to realize she could deposit more than one check at once. No matter. I waited patiently, mentally rifling through potential pin combinations. I’d gotten my birthday from my driver’s license, and hopefully, Old Me was a little less crafty when it came to banking.
When it was my turn, I popped in the card and got it right on the second try. I gave an excited little hop. It was completely out of character, but goddamn, it was nice to have something go smoothly for once. But then I checked the balance.
I blinked. Now that just can’t be right. I canceled the transaction and accessed my balance again. I blinked some more. Over two million dollars blinked back at me.
So we were back to a gun dealer, then. Gray’s words ran through my mind again. You had a lot of unexplained income, and you came and went all hours. I looked at the balance again. Gray had always been the master of understatement—unexplained income was putting it mildly.
I hesitated over the withdrawal button. If I accessed any of this money, I knew they would be watching. I wasn’t even sure who “they” were, but I knew that with every fiber of my being. Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. I was certainly tired of trying to solve the mystery that was me on my own.
Besides, I couldn’t keep living off Gray, asking him for funds like a kid asking for milk money. Before I could change my mind, I started tapping the right buttons on the screen. Then I withdrew the maximum amount of money that I could. When the machine spat out the bills, I folded the stack and jammed it in my pocket.
I felt like I’d just pulled off a heist…something worthy of Ocean’s whatever the hell number they were up to now. I strolled down the street casually, stopping at a convenience store near the end of the block. I bought a Sprite and posted up under the store’s awning as I polished it off slowly. Waiting. Watching. No one looked suspicious or particularly interested in the guy sipping a Sprite as if it was fine whiskey.
A jolt suddenly zapped my spine, and I gasped. It felt like someone had shoved a hot poker under my skin. My eyes squeezed shut, I staggered a few steps and braced myself against the building. The back of my neck throbbed, and I slapped a hand over it that did absolutely nothing to abate the sensation. It felt like I was buzzing with energy, just below the surface of my skin.
