Being Zolt (18 page)

We rode in silence in the backseat of the Suburban to our hideout. Zolt flicked a glance my way every so often, but I ignored him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to take this out on him. After all, those women had come before me, all except one. Still, it didn’t make me feel any better. Though I recognized most of my bad mood centered on everything that had happened in the last few weeks, I couldn’t seem to get a grip of my emotions. When I did, more crap came our way, sending me spiraling into a black void—one I feared I’d get stuck in.

I sighed and leaned my head against the window.

Zolt took my hand and kissed my palm, but I pulled away; I wasn’t in the mood for his affection. I didn’t have to see him to know hurt shone in his eyes; I could feel it without seeing it. But how could he possibly understand? Tomorrow was my twenty-second birthday, and I was alone. Even if that wasn’t technically true, I felt that way. This was always going to be a hard birthday for me, and now it was a million times worse. My brother doted on me, always making a big deal of my birthday.

But not this year, and not ever again.

I hadn’t told Zolt about my birthday. If I opened up to him, things might be better, but I couldn’t. The high from the other day after the car chase had dissipated, returning me to emptiness.

“Irelyn,” Zolt said softly. “I’m sorry that my past, fucked-up actions are coming back to haunt us.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I kept my attention on the window as I traced the path of a falling raindrop. “Marcus is going to stop at nothing to win. No matter what we do, he always seems to get the upper hand. If it weren’t for Kenna, I’d give into him. The more I fight him, the more people end up hurt.”

Zolt cupped my jaw with his hand and turned my head. His eyes were dark with anger and purpose. “Don’t, Irelyn. Don’t say that. We will win. Marcus will pay for everything.”

“How, Zolt?” I laughed bitterly. “The reason Marcus succeeds is because he’s a sociopath. He has no heart, no soul. Unless and until we become more like him, he’ll always win.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“Don’t I?”

With nothing to say to refute my statement, Zolt sighed and dropped his hand from my face.

I wanted to pull his hand back and let his warmth soothe me, but instead, I returned my attentions to the landscape whizzing by us.

We arrived at our getaway home in Flagstaff, Arizona. Even in my funk, I had to admit how stunning the surroundings were as we wound our way up the pine-lined drive. The custom, handcrafted log home T had secured for us sat on a large lot surrounded by more pines and scenic views. At the bottom of an incline, I could hear the gurgling of a stream in the distance. The air was crisp and clean. As hideaways went, this wasn’t so bad. Any other time, in any other situation, I’d be excited for Zolt and me to be alone in these majestic mountains, but I wasn’t. No amount of chiding myself for my nasty behavior changed that. My poor husband was in for a miserable time with his miserable wife.

The driver unloaded our luggage, taking it into the cabin. I walked through the gorgeous, custom, hand-scribed, hand-hewn log home. It was really too big for just us, but that was probably best; Zolt would need space away from me. Off to the right, I noticed a smaller cabin. I assumed that was for the two guards T had sent with us.

The cabin had every amenity; the builders had spared nothing in the floor plan. I marveled at the double rough-sawn, lumber ceilings and magnificent log trusses in the great room. Zolt had a large grin on his face. Obviously, he adored the home, as well.

“Nice, huh?” He smiled at me, but I didn’t return it.

“Sure. Real nice. I think I’m going to go take a nap.” I started to climb the stairs but was stopped by his hand grabbing mine.

“Do you want company?” Hopeful tones lilt his voice.

I pulled my hand away and shook my head. I didn’t want to be cuddled, and I didn’t want to have sex. Funny how my mood had taken such a nose dive from just a day ago, and I was starting to worry there was something wrong with me---that I would fall into a hole I couldn’t climb out of.

“Irelyn, please. Don’t shut me out. Let me help you.”

“I—” My response stalled in my throat. How could I tell him how to help me when I didn’t know how to help myself? “You can’t.”

I climbed the stairs, found the master suite and took off my jeans, and then I pulled first one arm out of the shirt, then the other. I took off my bra and threw it on the floor. With an exhaustion, I didn’t know could be possible, I fell into bed.

Maybe when I woke, I’d be in a better mood, but I seriously doubted it. Ever since T had told us about the newest threat and how we needed to leave, all I could think about was our trip to Quebec and how my parents’ lives had ended. Though, logically, I knew my father carried most of the blame, I couldn’t help but think part of it belonged to me, as well. If Zolt and I hadn’t gotten married, or if we handled it differently, would they still be alive?

The ‘what ifs’ and memories of that day tortured my mind. I put in my earbuds and blasted my iPod, playing
Scar Tissue
by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. My own scars were growing in number, ugly and raised; how I’d ever cover them; I had no idea.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke with two strong arms shaking me and someone screaming bloody murder.

“Irelyn! Baby, wake up.” Zolt’s commanding voice pulled me from the remnants of my nightmare. In it, Chris laid there, bloody and beaten, but now my parents stood over him, both dripping with blood.

Zolt took out my earbuds and pulled me into his arms, stroking my back. Before, this would comfort me, but now I found no reassurance in his touch.

“Don’t! Don’t touch me.” I crawled off the bed and backed myself into a corner of the room. It was then that I noticed how dark the room had gotten; I must have slept much of the day away.

“What the hell, Irelyn? Tell me what I’m supposed to do!” Zolt threw up his hands and got off the bed, moving in my direction. “Did I do something?”

“Ha!” I spat out. My face heated as my anger grew. “No, Zolt! It’s not your fault that the countless number of women you fucked before me have been turned into pawns to be used against us. Why did you have to be such a slut?”

“Hold up, that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Who else here has an apartment they keep specifically for fucking no-name skanks? Hmm? Not me.” I placed my balled fists on my hips and glared at him.

“Not me, either. I got rid of it right after the last time I went there, just before I rescued you from Marcus. Honestly, this has nothing to do with the women I screwed. In fact, if we think about this, it’s your ex who is causing all this. Every fucking problem we have is because of Marcus. So, think hard on that, Irelyn, before you lay the blame at my feet.”

Zolt stomped from the room, mumbling a slew of curses under his breath.

I put my hands over my ears to block him out as my tears streamed down my face. Sliding down the wall, I hugged my knees to my chest.

None of this was Zolt’s fault. Once again, I chided myself for my weakness in allowing myself to ever become involved with Marcus. When my father’s face flashed in my mind, my condemnation shifted to him. He had given me to Marcus, clearing a path for that monster to take advantage of me while I grieved my brother—the brother he’d murdered.

“God!” I ran my hands through my hair, yanking handfuls. My mind had turned into a circular clusterfuck, one I couldn’t stop. It replayed the same things over; its only purpose was to wear me down.

When scars don’t heal properly, they pucker and pull at your skin, always reminding you of the injury that caused them. I needed to find a way to make mine heal right. If I didn’t, I’d lose Zolt, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Pulling myself to my feet, I went into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Then, I knotted my hair and found my jeans. Once dressed, I went in search of my husband to make amends.

“I don’t know, Brody. Everything I do makes things worse. God, I just threw Marcus in her face.” I rubbed the back of my neck, regretting my words.

“Geez, Zolt? You can’t get much crueler than that,” Brody admonished.

“Tell me about it. I’m kicking myself now. She started bitching about my poor choices in lovers prior to her, and I, being the dick I am, threw Marcus right back at her. Ugh!” I moaned.

“Did you know her birthday is tomorrow?”

“What? No, I didn’t. Shit, how can I not know my own wife’s birthday? No wonder she’s freaking the hell out. This will be her first one since Chris. And now with her parents gone? Just… fuck me!” I sucked in a breath and let it out. “Wait, how do you know?”

“Rachel called and asked if we had plans for her birthday. She said she tried to call you. When I told her you left again, she hung up on me. She’s pissed, Zolt.”

“God, Brody, I’m screwing up right and left. We left in such a hurry, and with Irelyn’s bad mood, I didn’t even think about calling them. I’ll make sure one of us calls her. Irelyn needs a special present for her birthday. It’s too late for me to get her jewelry. I’ll have to figure out something that won’t require me going into town.”

“So, you’re staying somewhere in the mountains?”

“Uh, not answering that, bro.”

“Okay. Fine. Go take care of your wife; I’ll talk with you later.”

I disconnected the phone and walked to the stairs only to find Irelyn descending them. Her tear-stained face broke my heart.

“Irelyn—”

When she reached me, she put two fingers over my lips and said, “Don’t. I’m sorry. It’s—”

“Your birthday is tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

I took her hand and led her down the rest of the stairs. We sat on the brown-suede couch where she curled her legs under her and snuggled next to me.

“I’m sorry, Irelyn. I can’t believe I didn’t know when your birthday is, especially this year of all years.”

“Let’s face it; what we don’t know about each other is far greater than what we do.” Her gaze turned to mine, and the sadness I saw in them made me cringe. “Did we make a mistake in getting married so quickly? Maybe Brody was right to be upset with us. And…”

“And what?” I tried to keep my voice level so my hurt wouldn’t show, but my jaw ticked in irritation.

“Did our impromptu marriage drive my father to do what he did? Because I wanted to be your wife, is that the reason my parents are dead?”

I pulled Irelyn into my lap, forcing my gaze into hers. With my thumb, I wiped away a tear. “No, Irelyn, our marriage didn’t drive Jacob to do what he did. I won’t let you take on that guilt; it’s not yours to bear. If anyone is to blame, it’s Marcus, and that’s a stretch, as well. Your father made colossally-bad decisions, and he brought that monster into your life.”

“I just don’t get it, Zolt. When did he become such a coward? Growing up, my father was a strong, forthright man—a man in love with his wife and children. What happened to make that all change?”

“Marcus. Guilt. Cowardice. All three of those things. Marcus is a predator, and your father was his prey; he exploited you’re his weaknesses.”

“Here’s the thing, baby,” I said, tenderly caressing her arm. “We need to make a decision here and now to not let what your father did affect our marriage. If we don’t, we won’t survive. I didn’t marry you with an exit plan in mind if things didn’t work out. I’ll do anything to make this successful.”

“I want that, too, but I feel so guilty. I mean, my mom, Zolt…”

Irelyn’s tears flowed freely, and I finally understood the meaning of empathy because if I could take her pain on as my own, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

For several minutes, Irelyn cried in my arms as the rain poured down outside. I swear, the more she cried, the harder it rained.

I did my best to comfort her. I rubbed her back and stroked her hair, but in the end, I let her cry.

I kicked myself for not seeing this coming. Her stunt the other night had been a symptom of her denial and refusal to let herself grieve. As much as I tended to avoid my emotions, it wouldn’t do for my wife. She was a better person than me by far. I didn’t want her to end up like me—emotionally stunted with a closed-off heart. Until now….

“Are you hungry,” I asked once the rain and her tears had both ebbed.

“Yeah. A little.” She wiped her face and blew her nose. Evening had turned into night, and my stomach howled with hunger.

“Let’s see what’s in the fridge.” I stood up, placed Irelyn on her feet, and we walked into the kitchen hand-in-hand. I hoped the fridge had something we could heat up in a hurry because I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

“Ooh,” she said and pointed at the container of pasta with grilled vegetables and chicken. “Yummy. We can pop it in the microwave for a few. Oh, and there’s a nice Chardonnay, too.”

Just like that, my Irelyn returned. She’d needed to cry and while she appeared happier now, I couldn’t help but think she’d cried too many times lately. Some of it was my fault due to my dickish nature, but the majority belonged to Marcus. The thought made my blood boil with hatred for that man, but I tamped it down, not wanting my sudden mood change to influence her now-stable one.