Kiss at Your Own Risk (27 page)

She couldn’t look at her mom. Couldn’t stand the scent of earth she’d always associated with her. The smell of grass was too thick. The trees too close. The vibration of the engine between her legs was too harsh, like a swarm of bugs crawling in her pants. She wanted to stumble off by herself, to think, to breathe. Her tulip suddenly hurt even more intensely. The brand of the betrayal. She dug her nails into it, desperate to claw it off, to cleanse herself, to—

Blaine grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest. The heat from his tattoo burned her palm. His scar was a symbol of his own survival. She held tight, as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly fallen away. She breathed the oil of his bike, the leather of his new seat, felt the heat from his body fighting its way into her cells.

“It was a one-time mistake when we were too young to know better,” Olivia protested. “We changed our minds the minute she disappeared with you, and we searched for you every day. We love you—”

“No.” Blaine’s voice was hard, and he set his other hand on Trinity’s leg. Pulled her knee against his thigh. “You don’t get to say that anymore.”

Olivia’s cheeks reddened, and she folded Trinity’s free hand in both of hers. Her fingers were cold and clammy. Numbly, Trinity stared at the hands that had comforted her so many times in her life, the same ones that had willingly set her in the arms of the psychopath who had infected her.

“That’s why you can’t sell your soul for your father,” Olivia said. “We don’t deserve it.”

“No. You don’t.” Blaine flicked Olivia’s hands off Trinity. “You lose.”

Trinity stared at her mom. At the woman she’d loved for so long. “I don’t understand how you could do that to me,” she whispered.

“Hey.” Reina stepped forward and shook Trinity’s shoulder. “Give your mom a break. It was one mistake and she’s been paying for it her whole life.” She met Trinity’s gaze, and allowed her own pain to show. “I know what it’s like to live with that kind of regret. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. She does, and she’s doing everything she can to fix it. Don’t judge her the way Blaine blames his parents.”

Trinity stared at Reina. “But you’re different. You never lied to anyone about what you did.”

Reina shook her head. “She loves you. Don’t you dare let that go, Trinity. It’s a gift and—”

“Trinity!” Tears were streaming down Olivia’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, darling, I truly am, but Reina’s right. You have to know we both love you and if there was any way to change it, we would have, a million times. I tried to get the witch to curse me instead, and she wouldn’t—”

“I can’t hear this right now.” Trinity’s face felt wet, and she couldn’t think. She pressed her face to Blaine’s back and closed her eyes. “Blaine,” she whispered. “Please take me away.”

Blaine revved the engine and he peeled out, jerking her out of the arms of the two women she loved, the only two women who had stood behind her despite the trail of dead bodies behind her.

She looked back over her shoulder as Blaine sped down the street. Reina had put her arm around Olivia’s waist, and the two of them were watching.

Olivia raised her palm in one final entreaty, and then Blaine turned a corner and they were out of sight.

The last thing Blaine could afford to feel right now was empathy for the woman who’d walked out on him.

But Trinity was hanging onto him like she was afraid the earth would swallow her up if she let go, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her stricken expression when her mom had made that hellacious confession.

He’d had only four years with his mom before she’d betrayed him. How much deeper did the treachery dig after having built a lifetime of trust with someone?

He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Nigel and Jarvis were on his tail. They had no time to stop and deal with this crap. But he couldn’t off either the witch or her garbage man without Trinity’s help. He had to be sure he could count on Trinity when the cockroach party started, and right now he wasn’t sure she was capable of standing upright, let alone knocking off two unkillable opponents.

Shit.

He had to deal with this situation, didn’t he?

Damn Angelica’s buck-toothed snapping turtles and their penchant for male nipples for forcing him to be aware of how emotions impacted everything.

Emotions were for sissies. Not warriors.

But he flipped off Nigel and Jarvis, and then pulled the bike over to the side of the road in front of a row of brownstones. Two minutes. That’s all he was giving this, and it was only to make sure the battle went the way he wanted it to go.

That was it.

He turned off the bike, as Nigel and Jarvis drove past and double-parked the Hummer just ahead. He could feel Trinity’s body shaking against his, and she was gripping him so tightly he was pretty sure she was successfully tourniqueting all the bleeding wounds on the lower half of his body.

Jarvis jumped out. “What’s—”

Blaine sliced the air in front of his throat with his hand.

Jarvis’s eyebrows shot up, but he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the back of the truck. Privacy? None of them had had quality alone time in a hundred and fifty years.

Nigel shoved the passenger door open and hopped out. He had a sketch pad and a charcoal crayon. He immediately sat down cross-legged on the cobblestone sidewalk, gave them a thoughtful look, and then began to draw.

Just like old times. The higher the stress, the more likely Nigel was to whip out a pencil.

Blaine shifted his shoulders, turning away from the boys. “Trinity.”

She didn’t respond.

Gently, he pried her arms off his waist. “Trin.”

She suddenly lifted her head from his back, yanked her arms off him, swung her leg over the bike, and sprinted down the street.

Did the girl ever stop taking off on him? She was more slippery than a pig in a grease farm, or at least according to what Nigel had told him about greased up porkers. The farm kid had never quite ditched the hayseed memories.

Blaine caught Trinity as she reached a huge oak tree that had defied all odds and managed to take root amidst a sea of cement, bricks and buildings. He caught her around the waist and swept her up as she fought him.

“I want to be alone!”

“Too bad.” He sat down against the tree and plunked her down in his lap. Iron-fisted her right where he wanted her, then waited for her to realize she was trapped.

He didn’t like the fact that she gave up resisting in less than five seconds. Her lack of spirit worried him. But when she sighed and collapsed against his chest, her cheek warm against his tattoo, yeah, well, not so bad.

“Tell me what it was like for you,” she whispered, twisting her fingers in the front of his shirt. “The day it happened.”

He wished he didn’t know what she was asking. He wished he didn’t remember what it was like to suck it up on his own. To want his mom to hug him, and instead to be lying in a pink bed with a flower comforter that smelled like something had died in it.

Which, he later realized, something probably had.

“Blaine.” Her voice was raw, as if she’d been screaming for days, or swallowing recently sharpened blades. “Tell me.”

He rolled his eyes, but he loosened his grip and began to rub her back. Tried not to think about the words he was saying. “I was sitting at the top of the stairs when the witch walked out of the kitchen. My dad was behind her, and I could see my mom sitting at the kitchen table. A stack of corn was on a place mat in front of her.”

Trinity’s hand stilled on his chest, and she raised her head to look at him. “They sold you for corn?”

“I’m assuming it was good corn. The tender kind.” The bark from the tree began to dig into his back, and he shifted his position.

“Corn,” she repeated. “How many ears?”

“I think it was six. Enough for two meals. Or cornbread, maybe.” He kept rubbing her back. Not sure whether he was doing it for her or for him, but it felt good, and he was going to keep it up.

“Not even a baker’s dozen. I would have at least thought you’d be worth that.”

He shrugged. “Not everyone appreciates my great love-making abilities.”

She stiffened, and her cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t talking about—”

He had to stifle a grin. “So, yeah, Angelica came out to get me, I stood up, took my carving knife, and whipped it right at her.” A siren wailed in the distance and he saw flashing red lights cross at the next intersection.

Trinity raised one eyebrow. “Were you as good at throwing things back then?”

“Yeah.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, watching a squirrel scurry along a wrought iron fence in front of a nearby townhouse. “My aim was dead on for her heart, but she snatched that knife out of the air, faster than I’d ever seen, then hurled it back at me.” He held out his arm, where that scar still burned. “It hit right here.” He pointed to the middle of his biceps, where the thick ridge was the widest. “Then it ripped down my arm, like it was alive.”

Trinity laid her hand over his scar. “And your parents? What did they do?”

“My dad went back into the kitchen.” Blaine watched the squirrel leap down, grab an acorn, and then scurry up a small fruit tree growing up out of the sidewalk. Nature, struggling to exist in the city. Reminded him of trying to survive in Angelica’s prison.

“And your mom?”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention at that point.” He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. “It didn’t matter, Trinity. They sold me out, and they never looked back. That’s the whole story. It sucks, but it’s better to know.”

Trinity searched his face. “Didn’t you even look in the kitchen to see what was happening?”

“Why would I?”

“Maybe your mom was crying. Trying to save you, and your dad wouldn’t let her.” She hugged herself, rocking back and forth on his lap. Her face was so anguished it was making it impossible not to think more than he wanted to. Not to feel more than was smart to feel.

“No chance,” he snapped, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “I gave up that fantasy long ago.”

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t care.” She picked a fallen leaf off his leg and smoothed it between her palms. “Your parents. Mine. I mean, how do you do that? Give your child away to a woman who’s going to torture it?” She looked up at him. “They had to know who they were giving us to, didn’t they? They knew, and they did it anyway. For corn. For…” She closed her eyes. “To save my mother’s life. Do you think that’s true?” There was hope in her voice, as if the reason could justify the means.

He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to stop rocking. “Trinity. Look at me.”

A tear slid down her cheek, and her fist crushed the leaf she’d so carefully smoothed moments before. “What?”

His words died in his throat. His unequivocal statement that there was nothing redeemable about parents who sold their kids out. That there was no love. He knew it, he believed it, but looking into Trinity’s tortured face, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

How could he take away her hope? Hope was all that had kept him alive. Hope for freedom. But for Trinity, it was hope for love. He had no right to take away anyone’s dreams. Especially not when she was facing a battle for her own survival right now.

Yeah, she’d betrayed him.

But that didn’t change the fact that she’d just been kicked in the teeth by the same person who’d done it to him. And it sucked. He ground his jaw. “Your mom did say she tried to find you.” He expected the words to grate like granite in his mouth, a lie that smelled like his mother’s perfume.

But it tasted sweet, like his first breath when he woke up from treading the edge of death. “She said she tried to change her mind right away,” he added. That statement felt just as good, like he was greedy for the sentiment. Words he’d once dreamed of speaking about his parents, excuses that would allow him to forgive everything, hope he’d long ago relinquished.

She searched his face. “Do you believe my mom?”

“I—” He didn’t know how to answer that question. He wrapped his arms around her, watching a doddering gray-haired couple stroll by with their equally ancient yellow lab. They were holding hands and smiling, even though they could barely navigate the uneven sidewalk. The woman smiled down at them, and he nodded back before he realized what he was doing.

“Blaine?”

He rested his chin on Trinity’s head. “Both your parents would rather have your father die than have you lose your soul.” Those words touched something inside him. Death was something he understood, and he knew there was no greater statement than giving up your own life, your own soul for someone. There was no one he would die for. No one who would die for him. He thought of the way Trinity’s mom’s fingers had dug into his arm when she’d asked him to protect Trinity. That plea had been her absolute truth. She wanted her husband to die instead of her daughter, and it had hurt her like hell to make that choice.

Trinity played with his shirt collar, the tips of her fingers brushing so sweetly against his throat. “What are you saying?”

He nuzzled Trinity’s silky hair and inhaled the sweet scent of lavender he associated with her. The smell eased the tension in his chest, allowing him to speak a truth he never would have thought he could say in this type of situation. “I think you can believe your mom. Yeah, she made a choice that was crap, but it’s pretty clear that she loves you today. That they both do. You don’t die for people if you don’t.”

She was silent for a moment, but the trembling was easing from her body. “If you were in my place, would you trust her?”

That was easy. “No.”

“But you believe her for me?”

He ground his jaw and shifted uncomfortably. One of the sidewalk bricks was digging into his hip. “Hell, Trinity, I don’t know. I’m out of my depth here. All I know is that she meant it when she told me to save your soul instead of your dad’s life.” He shrugged. “Call it love. Call it someone’s slipped her a bribe to make sure her husband gets the axe. But she meant it.”

A tremulous smile curved Trinity’s face, and the sight of it was like the sun had suddenly started shining down on him after a century of rain. Damn, it felt good to be responsible for that brightness.

“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

He held onto her, closing his eyes so he could absorb the feel of her embrace, the way she was holding onto him as if he’d given her a great gift. And maybe he had. Maybe he’d given her something that had nothing to do with violence or killing or saving her life.

It felt good. Really, really fantastic.

She pulled back and lightly brushed her mouth over his. He’d forgotten how magnificent it was to be kissed with tenderness. Less than a day, and he’d already put it out of mind. He grabbed her face and kissed her back.

“Keep it in your pants,” Jarvis shouted. “We’re on the clock.”

Blaine broke the kiss, glancing up the street. Jarvis tapped his watch, but Nigel was still sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, sketching.

Blaine turned his attention to Trinity, tunneling his hands through her hair, trying to squeeze every last moment out of their time together. Trying to imprint the feel of those soft tresses on his callused hands. “What do you want to do about the Chameleon?”

Not that he could afford to let her decide to walk away. He needed her help, and if Angelica was racing toward Chammie, it was all going to go down at once. He had to know whether Trinity was going to give her help voluntarily, or if he was going to have to force her.

Trinity took a breath, then nodded. “It has to die.”

“It does.” Perfect. He’d talked her right back to where he needed her to be. Ready to sacrifice herself so Blaine could have what he needed from her.

But he felt no relief.

He just felt like shit. Couldn’t get the thought of that post-apocalyptic Trinity hologram out of his mind. He didn’t want her becoming that banshee. It would mean the witch had won. “You aren’t wielding the death blow,” he suddenly decided. “There has to be another way.”

“What way? My hologram—”

“Showed you one way. Nothing is static. If we weaken the monster, there might be another way.” He gripped her shoulders and shook lightly. “You keep looking until you see that other method. Do you understand? I’m not giving you an option.”

She met his gaze. “If I have to kill him myself, I’m okay with that. I accept the cost.”

As she said the words, he realized he wasn’t okay with it. At all.

Which was dandy timing for him.

***

Trinity slid down the embankment toward the duck pond behind Blaine and Jarvis as Nigel followed. They were in the Boston Garden now, a bloody and burned foursome that had drawn more than a few curious looks as they’d sprinted past the softball games.

Jarvis held up his hand to tell them to stop, then he pointed.

She could see a hairy calf and a bare foot poking out from behind a pillar at the foot of the bridge. “Is that it?”

“Human form,” Jarvis whispered. “It probably reverts back to its natural state when sleeping.”

Trinity’s heart began to pound. “I can’t kill it if it’s a man. I have issues with that—”

“Don’t worry. It won’t stay that way.” Blaine was smoking as they eased closer to it. “See if you can catch a look while it’s sleeping, Trinity. Most creatures are more vulnerable when they’re knocked out.”