Page 47 of Intrepid

“I’ll see you Friday,” he whispered, sliding the ruined page of notes from my hand, and walked away.

He was bad for me, I knew that. He’d undoubtedly break my heart if ever I handed it over to him. But part of me wanted that fire, in spite of the burn. I wanted to know just how hot it could get before I’d be consumed in flames, because I had a feeling I’d never know that heat again. I’d never know passion so intense, the kind my mother always told me to find and hold onto.

As I watched him disappear around the corner, I had to remind myself to breathe again.

The urge to draw tingled my fingertips. I could see the dark lines on the page, the fast strokes capturing his chiseled jawline and those piercing eyes.

A buzz against my ass jerked me forward, and I lifted my phone to see Ty’s number popped up on my screen.

I’ll send you a dick pic tonight.

I smiled down at that, sucking my still swollen lip between my teeth.

ME: Don’t be pissed at me if you wake up to find it trending on social media tomorrow.

TY: I’m not sure you want all that attention.

ME: That impressive, is it?

TY: Keep your phone by your bed. I’ll let you be the judge.

ME: Or you can upload it yourself and spare me the trouble of getting blocked on Facebook.

The three dots told me he was writing back, but after a minute, they disappeared, and after three minutes with no text, I set my phone down on the table and returned to my studies.

17

Jameson

Nine years ago …

A voice roused me from the black void that’d begun to move in from the fringes of my mind—one I didn’t recognize. I screamed, and the pressure of my plea beat back against my mouth, as the air remained trapped behind the duct tape smoothed across my lips.

Kicking my feet hard against the door set the metal of the bedsprings rattling, and stilled to listen, when the voices grew louder, sharper.

Closer.

The door clicked, and light bled through the cracks of the closet, just enough to show silhouettes. Rolling back brought me peering through the cracks, but I couldn’t make out anything more than shadows on the floor. Whoever it was remained in the hallway, well out of my view.

“Boy’s in that box. Got ‘im all cleaned up. Ain’t nobody touched ‘im that way. I can swear to you,” Fox said.

“He can’t hear me right now.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. As though the two had made the agreement prior.

“Nope. ‘Cept for Dave Mustaine screamin’ in his ears.” Fox’s laughter filled the room, and the rich scent of a cigar watered my mouth.

“Good. Then, you did as I asked?”

“Yes, sir. I guarantee he won’t go near her again. Gua-ran-tee.”

Her? Who the hell were they talking about? And what did it have to do with Eli that it would warrant this treatment?

“Leave us.”

The light disappeared beneath darkness, and for a moment, I thought we were alone again, until I heard a ruffling sound. Someone still in the room. A pitch black room. I couldn’t see my own nose in the gloom, let alone who remained, so I listened.

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.” The stranger’s voice didn’t carry the hard clips and slurs of someone who lived in Detroit. Definitely wasn’t urban, or white trash, from what I could gather, but more articulate in his speech. “You’ve no idea how it feels to live behind a mask every day. To hide what you are, for fear that someone will come along and destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

A hard thump sounded, as if someone had collapsed, until the quiet zipper skated along my spine. “This is who I am. So fucking deal with it.” A long moan carried over Eli’s muffled scream. More grunting. More muffled screaming.