Freeing Him: A Hart Brothers Novel, Book 2 (38 page)

As the band plays, I head to the dance floor and join the others as they move to the beat. I’m enjoying myself but all too soon, it’s closing time, so I make my way home. When I arrive, I know the morning will bring pain, and lots of it. I make sure the curtains are drawn as tightly as possible, not allowing even a slit of light through. Then I put an extra pillow next to me so if I wake up and my head is splitting open, I can put the pillow over it. The last thing I think of before drifting off is my mom and how much I miss her. I wish she were here to help me. She would find a way to get rid of my pain. I know she would.

The axe man
is back and I’m his victim. I beg him to decapitate me and get it over with, but he ignores me again. I roll off my bed and under it, writhing in pain. This room can’t be dark enough. After a few moments, I know I need to get my pills so I rock to my knees and struggle to the bathroom. Fumbling around, I locate them and pray they work. I’m shaking so badly, the water I attempt to drink pours everywhere except into my mouth. I pull off my shirt because now it’s soaked and I crawl back under my bed.

In the distance, I hear a girl moaning. Deep in my mind, I recognize the voice but I never put two and two together that the girl is me. I want to injure myself somewhere else on my body, just so that I can forget how bad my head hurts for a moment. My mouth has a metallic taste, so I know I’ve bitten my tongue, cheek, or lip, but I don’t feel it. Right now, I would bargain with the devil to stop this pain. It’s relentless.

I crawl back to the bathroom and take another pill. Ice. I need some ice to put on my head, but I don’t know if I can make it to the freezer. Knowing I must try, I set off for the kitchen. It takes me a few minutes because I have to stop several times before I get there. Finding a Ziploc is nearly impossible—my brain isn’t functioning properly right now. Getting ice into this bag is like climbing Mt. Everest. More cubes land on the floor than inside the bag. Whoever thought such a simple task could be so difficult and painful? When I finally succeed, I don’t have the strength to do anything but stay on the kitchen floor, holding the baggie to my head.

Crying only makes the pain worse, but my brain won’t listen to me. It seems that crying and migraines go hand in hand, one bringing the other. The pain never gets better, but I become drowsy enough that I doze off.

“Gemini, where are you?” Her voice is always tinged with worry when she doesn’t immediately see me.

“I’m here, Mom. Don’t be such a worrywart.”

“You know I can’t help it. Don’t leave my side when we’re out.”

“But I was only …”

“Gemini, I don’t want any back talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I can’t understand why she gets so out of sorts when she doesn’t have her eye on me for a second.

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can I go to camp this summer?”

“Gemini, we’ve talked about this before.”

“But all the other kids are going. I’m the only one who doesn’t and I really want to.”

“I know you do. But you know how I feel about it.”

“I swear I won’t get hurt.”

“Gemini, you know what my answer is.”

“Okay.”

Images flash through my mind and now I’m celebrating my sixteenth birthday. I’m hoping for a car, but I doubt I’ll get one.

“Happy birthday, sweetie!”

“Thanks, Mom!”

She’s carrying a perfectly decorated cake with sixteen glowing candles. And then she sings me the traditional Happy Birthday song. When she finishes, she squeezes me so hard I think I’m going to crack in half.

“Gemini, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Mom. Is it chocolate?”

“You’re going to have to cut it to find out,” she teases.

When I do, I think about the other kids I know and the birthdays I overhear them talk about. How they have parties and do special things. But it’s always just been my mom and me. No other family or friends.

“Hey, Mom … How come we don’t have any relatives or friends? I mean, I know you said my dad died before I was born and that your parents died when you were young. But didn’t you have any cousins or anything?” It suddenly hits me how odd it is that we’re so isolated.

My mom’s usually tanned face suddenly pales. Her head slants away from me so now I don’t have a clear view of her face. “No, sweetie, I never had any cousins.” Her voice is choked.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” I go to her and hug her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by that.”

“It’s okay, Gemini. You can ask me anything you want. It was just an unexpected question.” She hugs me back. Then she leans away and asks, “Hey, you want to open your present?”

“Well, yeah!”

She turns around and hands me a tiny gift bag. It surprises me because I was expecting something larger, such as a box filled with clothes. Now, I think she must have gotten me jewelry. I grin.

When I open the bag, all I see is tissue paper. I pull it out until I find the gift. A car key.

“Oh my God. You didn’t?”

She smiles. “I did. But before you go and see it, you have to swear to me you’ll take the most care driving it that you’ve ever taken in your life. I mean it, Gemini.”

My smile is so huge, I’m sure my mom can count every tooth in my head. Now it’s my turn to squeeze her to smithereens.

“Gemini, I can’t breathe,” she squeaks. Then she grabs my hand and pulls me into our garage, where she apparently hid the car yesterday. It’s a white Ford Escape and I’m in love with it.

“Do you want to take it for a drive?”

“Can I just ride in it first?” I’m too excited to drive right now.

My mom laughs so hard, tears form in the corners of her eyes. She’s as happy as I am. We jump in and take my new baby for a spin. I play with the radio and the air conditioning and windshield wipers, just so I’ll know how to work them.

When we pull into our driveway, my mom turns, a serious look on her face, like she’s about to say something epic. But then she says, “Gemini, promise me you’ll be careful. Please don’t take any unnecessary risks.” And then she says something very strange … something that sticks with me for a long, long time. “And always watch your back, you know, your rearview mirror. If you think you’re being followed, do not come home. Drive straight to the police station. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When I wake up, the ice has melted; I never zipped the bag, so I’m soaked. My migraine has eased a bit, enough for me to get back to my bedroom. I refill the bag and close it tightly before I go back to bed. Most people would say that I shouldn’t drink or take drugs. And that if I didn’t, maybe my headaches wouldn’t be so bad. If only that were the case. But it’s not. They’re just as excruciating without the alcohol and drugs. In fact, they’re worse because I get no reprieve at all.

As I lie here, I think about my dreams. It’s been a while since I’ve had any about my mom. It’s probably because I miss her so damn much. Whoever said that time eases the loss of a loved one was a big fat fucking liar. The grief I feel now is just as overwhelming as it was when she died five years ago. Sometimes, like right now, it’s worse.

Glancing at the nightstand clock, I see it’s close to six in the evening. Time to get a shower and eat something. I’ve been out of it all day and my plans are to hit the clubs again tonight. Before that, though, I need groceries. Mother Hubbard’s cupboard is bare. Going out in the daytime isn’t an option. It’s too bright and my headaches spike.

I shower, dress, and head out. It doesn’t take me long to grab what I need, so I’m home in no time. My neighbors must think I’m a recluse because in all the months I’ve been here, I haven’t met a single one of them. During my periods of gravest pain, I’ve wondered if they can hear me crying out. They never knock so I guess they can’t. I’m glad for that—I couldn’t answer the door anyway.

After I make a sandwich and eat, I dress and head back out to Dirty Sixth. I know I’ll be able to score another Xanax from my connection at Red Skies. If they’re not there, they’ll be at the Hairy Hound, or one of the other clubs on Sixth Street. My mood lightens as I get closer to my destination. It pains me to think how much further away from my dreams of becoming a marketing expert I get each day. Before too long, it will only be a memory from the distant past.

The teams are
positioned in the same places as we were last night, with one exception. Dylan is in Red Skies with me. After our debriefing, we decided to tail Onyx Eyes to see if we would have any hits. There’s something odd about her, though, and it has my wheels spinning. When we ran an ID check on her using the photos I took last night, we only came up with a blank slate. There weren’t any matches in the system. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything yet but I have Huff looking into it. I’m sure we’ll hear something from him by tomorrow morning.

Tonight I’m sitting at the bar in the back and Dylan’s in the front. I don’t want her to think I’m following her if she comes in. Before I even spot her, I notice the two guys she bought her shit from last night. They’re in my sights too—this may be part of their plan.

“Lone Wolf to Delta Mad Dog. Do you copy?”

“Copy, Lone Wolf.”

“We’ve got Candy Men on premises. Brown shirt, skull and crossbones and a Linkin Park baseball hat and then plain navy T-shirt, shaved head, spider tat on neck.”

“Copy that. Candy Men in sight.”

I sit back and watch the scenery. Girls dance with girls and guys break into the scene. Things are pretty calm. The Candy Men make the rounds, selling their stuff, and then I see her. She’s weaving her way through the throng, headed right toward me. I don’t want to be recognized, so I pull my cap down lower and look to the back of the room.

“Lone Wolf to Delta Mad Dog. Onyx Eyes is on premises. Grey Metallica T-shirt, jean shorts, cowboy boots, long black hair. Headed to the back. You copy?”

“Copy that. Got her in my sight.”

She’s drinking a bottled beer tonight and takes a sip as she approaches her sources. They make their exchange and she downs whatever it is she just scored. Then she scans the crowd and continues toward me. I don’t notice anything suspicious until a few minutes later when I see two guys approach her. One stands on either side and they start talking to her. She shakes her head a few times and they leave. Everything seems okay as I watch her move to the dance floor. Whatever she took is hitting her now because I’m close enough to see her movements change. The question nags me as to why she feels the need to take drugs, but I push it away.

The rule I always follow is to not get involved with the subjects in my cases. If I can just convince my dick of that, I’ll be in great shape. Right now, it’s not cooperating. One look at Onyx Eyes in those damn jean shorts and Mr. Cocky is all fired up.

“Delta Mad Dog, you watching all of this?”

“Copy, Lone Wolf. Eyes on them.”

“Copy.”

She’s still dancing when I see those two dudes approach her again. They act like they want to dance with her. The expression on her face tells me everything I need to know, but I stay put. No interference until necessary is the plan and right now, they’re just two guys hitting on an attractive girl. She shakes them off and heads back to the bar I’m sitting at. She leans her back against it as she scans the crowd. I’m wondering if she’s uneasy or just taking a break. And here they come again.

Now I try to take a listen to what they’re saying, but the noise of the band makes it impossible. One of those little bastards puts his hand on her arm, and then she raises her voice. “I told you I’m not interested. Leave me the hell alone.” She tries to tug her arm away but his hand clamps tighter.

It’s time to step in. My hand closes around his wrist, the one he has on her arm, and I apply the perfect amount of pressure. When his nostrils flare, I say, “The lady says she’s not interested.” I have them both by a couple of inches and I’m sure by at least twenty pounds each. One has long, stringy blond hair and a beard; the other has a shaved head.

They both check me out and then stringy blond hair says, “Mind your own damn business.”

“I am. You just made it my business when the lady said she wasn’t interested. Now let her go before this gets ugly.”