Greg
I see the messages. I will forward it on to Jones.
I end the chat, walk over to the flowers, and drop them into the trash. I then notice the note left behind.
My Darling,
I'll not allow you to get away from me like she did. You looked so lovely in that dress tonight. I was sure you would. You're more beautiful than she ever was.
Oh, the memories. Oh, what I'll do to you when we finally meet.
Love always.
My skin crawls and I immediately get out of the dress and stash the note in my backpack to research later.
I'm walking downstairs.I recognize the hallway. This is Savta's home in Tel Aviv. I step into a room of strangers and they all stare at me, making me feel like I'm on display. Maybe they're staring at me because I've not been able to look in a mirror in days to do my hair. Islide my hand through my hair, feeling the tangles. I don't want to be here. They will turn on me any moment when they realize I murdered them.
It's Shiva, and no one talks about her, only him. I walk through another room to see Savta. She looks so lost, her head bowed and the wig she wears a little askew because of all the hugs and crying.
"Savta, can I talk to you?" I say in Hebrew
"Motek, come, my dear." She leads me from the room. My grandmother only speaks Hebrew and Yiddish anymore; she knows English but refuses to speak it. Motek means sweetheart in Hebrew—she's called me that since I was little. Pain blossoms in my chest and I feel a pain in my arm. I look down to see a bloody, boney hand gripping me. I look up and Savta is scowling at me. I'm lying in my bed.
"Maya, wake up." Her voice is frantic and sounds breathless.
"What, Savta? It's not morning yet," I say in Hebrew back to her.
"Maya, there has been an accident."
"Accident? What?" I revert to English in my terror.
"You killed them. You spoiled child. My son would still be alive if you hadn't pushed them to go out."
"Savta! I didn't know."
I'm yelling it wasn't my fault when I look around and find I'm standing in a market. People are pushing past me. I'm dressed in my gear, my balaclava pulled under my chin. I hear a voice and swing around to see no one.
"Maya, darling, you look so beautiful. What I'd do for you... I'd kill for you. You're my one and only." I look down at my feet to see Ana and James dead.
"Maya, wake up! There’s been another accident," Savta says. Duncan is dead. His beautiful black hair is covered in blood.
"Maya, no. Maya! Why, why did you do this?" I’m bleeding in the tub.
I come awake as the voices yell in my dreams. Crap, this is twice in two nights the nightmares are back in full force. My stalker has brought them out. No going back to sleep now. I get up and change into shorts and a workout top and head to the gym. I need a good run.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DUNCAN
Well, that went well. She shot me down. I need another drink. As I'm sitting at the bar, I hear a commotion from the hall. Maya has just walked out of the stairwell, and I hear someone crying and carrying on. I'm about to go check on her when I notice how calm and regal she looks. She's fucking beautiful. And as I confessed earlier, she's in my blood. My blood runs hot and my cock throbs. I want her again. I then see the best man being helped by one of the waitstaff out of the stairwell. It's the girl Maya got jealous over earlier. Oh yes, I noticed that. I was so turned on by her jealousy. The best man is groaning and tears are streaming down his face.
"I'll make that bitch pay. When Jonathon finds out what she did, he'll make sure she's taken care of," he yells. What a fucktard. Maya completely ignores him. I want to go silence him but know that will only make the situation worse.
Part of me wants to chase her, but she already turned me down once. I ignore the server as she eyes me again. Only one woman is going to be in my bed, if I can help it. I’m done for the night and head to my room to try to get some sleep.
I come awake with a start, my heart beating so fast I think I'm going to have a heart attack. My stomach starts to roll and I jump up from the bed, barely making it to the loo. I retch until I'm dry heaving. I can smell the coppery blood and remnants from the gun battle in the air, along with the smell of burned flesh from the bomb going off near us. I rub my hand across my sternum where I can still imagine some of the bruises from all the bullets hitting my vest. Every time one would strike me, I'd fall back until Ian pulled me back. I can still feel Christopher's limp body in my arms as I dragged him along with me.
I stand on shaky legs, gripping the tile of the counter until I feel my legs working again. I brush my teeth and splash water over my face. I want these dreams to end. I want my life back. But how can I go on when he died?
