Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) (28 page)

“No, I’m just saying,”

“You are saying no more,” he ordered, pointing the gun’s muzzle in her face again, when a sudden boom, like a mallet hitting a giant gong, sounded. Ross’s head shot in the direction of the sound.

“What was that?” he asked, giving her an angry scowl as if Mikala magically caused the sound like a ventriloquist.

“How the fuck would I know?” she blurted, without thinking as an angry fist waved in her face.

“Shut that filthy mouth and keep it shut while I see what that was.”  He brushed past her, aiming the muzzle of his gun ahead of him, tiptoeing quietly in the direction of the sound.

Not all the walls had been fully erected as Ross made his way along the makeshift hallway and tipped his head into each room. There was no sign of movement or sound and then he heard it again. This time it was much louder and he knew without a doubt what had caused the resounding hum. The washroom was the one room that had been fully dry walled, at least on the inside, Ross teetered on the threshold, stared at the bubble wrapped pink bath tub in the center of the room.

He stepped into the room with the intention of getting a better look on the other side of the tub, convinced that someone was hiding there. He aimed the sight of the gun and leapt forward straightening when he discovered there was no one there. A throat clearing caused his to turn just as a two by four met his face with enough force to knock him clear across the room. His gun flew from his grip.  Mason tossed the plank of wood and pulled his gun from the waist of his pants, aiming it at the near unconscious man.

“How’d
that
feel you little fucker?” he growled, through his teeth. “Consider that payback for hitting Mik, and this is payback for fucking with her you piece of shit!” he roared, as his boot smashed Ross in the face. Mason watched blood splatter from his nose and mouth, like watching a slow motion replay in an action flick.

Readying himself for a repeat performance, he pulled back his foot but was stopped by Mikala’s shout, “Stop Mason, you’re going to kill him, stop.”

“Death’s too good for the bastard,” Mason said, working up a slimy ball of saliva and spitting it at the man’s chest. At the moment it was the most disgusting thing he could think of doing, even though all he wanted to do was tear his head off and piss down his throat.  It would have to do.

Chase kneeled at the side of the creeper and checked for a pulse, he was happy for Mason’s sake only, that the man was still alive. He took metal strapping from a toolbox, securing it around the man’s wrist, and then screwing it to the wall with a drill. “He’s not going anywhere, let’s get Mik downstairs.”

“I almost feel sorry for him,” Mikala said, as Mason wrapped his arm around her shoulder to lead her away.

Mason stopped in his tracks and took her by the shoulders, “His wife and her friend are dead…he killed them earlier today.”

Mikala pulled from Mason and walked over to the man that lay bleeding on her floor staring at him with a beleaguered look on her face. She stepped forward and yelled as if he may not hear her properly, “I should have let Mason kill you…for Lori’s sake.” Then she kicked his upper thigh as hard as she could. “You evil prick!”

Mason dragged her from the room and then inspected her face. “Sugar, you’re bleeding.” Mason said licking her wound gently with his tongue and then dabbing it with his shirt sleeve. Carefully he dotted tiny kisses across her bottom lip before holding her tight to his side and walking her down the stairs.

Blackstock and a parade of officers met them halfway up the second flight. “He’s all yours.” Mason announced.

As Mason helped Mikala into the truck and rounded the tailgate, his phone rang, he was quick to answer.

“Mr. Reed, you’re not going to believe this.” Blackstock said, his tone not a happy one.

“What?”

“He’s gone.”

“He’s dead?” Mason asked, unable to hide his shock, there was no way he did enough damage to kill the man.

“No. He’s not here, the man is gone.”

“Fuck.”

“At least he was kind enough to leave behind a good amount of DNA. We’ll get him.”

“I’d be selling the business, you wouldn’t get my ass back in the building for all the tea in China, are you sure about this?”

Nearly a week had passed since the creeper incident and Mikala found herself struggling for some form of normalcy, so she invited Eden out for lunch and much needed girlie-down-time with Landon in toe. With a substantial amount of negative stinking up her life, it called for diet blowing burgers, fries and major credit card damage.

“Eden, it’s over. The creeper…I should say Ross Stiles, is rotting in a jail cell and he’s going to stay there for a long, long time. I have to move on and get over it. I’ve cleared larger hurdles than this before, I just need to get back to work and concentrate on getting the apartment finished,” Mikala told Eden, while their server sat their meals on the table and held out an oversized pepper mill.

“Not for me thanks,” Eden said, smoothing her napkin over her lap and placing the lid of her bun on top of her gourmet pizza burger. “What’s left to do?”

Mikala held up her palm when the pepper mill was directed near her plate and smiled. The server walked away and Mikala squirted a huge blob of ketchup onto the side of her plate. “They have the best fries ever, here,” she said, swirling a French fry through her ketchup and popping it into her mouth. “They’re laying the carpet in the bedroom today and finishing the grout work in the bathroom and then it will be all done, I was told I can move back in by the end of the week, I’m hoping to be in by Thursday.”

“What about Mason?” Eden asked, reaching over and stealing a few fries from Mikala’s plate. Mikala slapped the back of her hand and they laughed.

“What about him?”

“I thought you two were…I’m confused.”

“Look, Eden, he wants nothing more than a body to warm his sheets and get him off, if he’s not ready to fully commit then fuck him, I’m moving on. I deserve better.”

Eden nodded and stabbed her fork continually into her salad as she thought. “How do you know he doesn’t want to commit? Have you asked him?”

“Yes, Eden, I asked.” Mikala took a bite of her chicken burger then shoved the plate off to the side. “Like a fool on bended knee, I asked.”

“What?” Eden asked, moving her plate to join Mikala’s, “When?”

Mikala raised her hand to draw the server’s attention and waited until she came over to the table, and ordered a vodka and cranberry before continuing, “A few nights ago…I asked for a commitment and he refused it,” she shrugged her shoulders, “not a big deal, at least I know where I stand. Let’s finish lunch and head over to Belmont’s, I need bath towels and a few other things, you can help me pick out bed sheets.”

“So it’s over?” Eden asked, not hiding her disappointment.

Mikala looked off into the distance for several seconds, as if mulling over her options before answering her best friend’s question. “Pretty sure it is.”

***

Mason had decided that is was for the best if Mikala was kept in the dark for a while longer, if for no other reason than to save her sanity. He threatened everyone involved, including Chase to a life time of living hell, if word got back the Mikala that the assailant was out there somewhere on the loose. He felt guilty as hell, first for not telling her Ross Stiles had been stalking her for months, and two, for letting her believe he was locked up and would not harm her anymore. And to top it all off like a giant maraschino cherry plopped deliberately on top to emphasize completion, he turned her down flat, like the dumbass he was.

“You’re really doing this?” he asked, remaining at a safe distance. Mason was caught off guard when he came home to find Mikala’s things sitting at the door, and Landon glaring at him as he picked up a suitcase and his own large duffle bag, shoving indignantly past him. Totally dumbstruck, Mason could not believe she was leaving, turning her back and walking away. “Don’t do this, sugar.”

“I have to, Mason, it’s time.”

“No it’s not.” he argued wanting terribly to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. “How can you just walk away?”

Wide eyed she stared at him, “Are you kidding?” she tried to remain calm while she recalled his walking out for eight months and couldn’t believe he had the nerve to act as if he was all innocent.

“Sugar,”

“We knew this day was coming and now that it’s here, I have to leave,” she said, turning and walking to the living room to retrieve her sweater from the sofa. Her hand ran across the back of the overstuffed pink chair as she passed behind it, and she sighed as memories flashed in her head.

“Well, I’m not going to let you.” Mason stood defiant, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mikala tilted her head and softly laughed. “What are you going to do tough guy? Tie me up and hold me hostage?”

A terrifying barrage of images of Mikala tied up and frightened sent a wave of guilt to his belly.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” Mason moved ever so slightly forward. “What about
us
, I thought we had a future.”

“I have to go home, the club needs me and I need to stand on my own two feet again, I’ve become too reliant on you, Mason. If I don’t go back and face my fears, I’m afraid I never will, I’ll turn into a quitter and that’s not who I am or who I want to be. We both know this is what’s best.” Mikala ran her hand over his cheek and smiled. “Not saying we can’t see each other from time to time.”

“I don’t want from time to time, I want…”

“What Mason, what do you want?” she asked, in hopes that he would just say the words she needed to hear. That he would tell her to wait while he packed his things and that he would gladly leave the loft if it made her happy. But she knew his stubborn side and how he battled change, how he almost never conceded to it and wasn’t about to now.

“I want things just as they are, I thought we were happy.”

“I have to go. Landon’s waiting to take me home.”

“But this is home, this is where you belong. Don’t make me beg.”

The derisory tone in her laugh left Mason wishing he could have given her what she wanted and things could be so different. If only he had the ability to get passed his own fears, things wouldn’t be ending this way.

“No, Mason, I don’t want you to beg. This here,” she held out her hands. “This is the past and I want to leave it behind, I don’t want to live under this roof surrounded by these four walls any longer and you can’t give me that.” She kissed his cheek holding her lips against his familiar stubble.

Walking out the door she turned to face him, “See you around.”

There was one tiny insignificant imperfection on the ceiling above her bed, which somehow caught Mikala’s attention as she lay awake. After the club had closed and Mikala helped Carl with tidying up, she fiddled with paperwork and placed online orders weeks in advance, just as an excuse not to go to bed. The dot on the ceiling worked as a welcome justification not to close her eyes, while she surmised how it had gotten there and how it could be rectified.

As a kid, Mikala never allowed herself to get too familiar with her surroundings. She was moved around so often she feared unpacking and often chose to live out of a suitcase. It wasn’t until she was well into her teens that she felt comfortable enough to call a house a home. Something paltry to focus on each night at bedtime, be it a hole in the wall, a dimple in the ceiling or a tear in the wallpaper, gave her a soothing feeling of home. God forbid someone made a repair and her focus was taken away, she’d have to start all over again.

This was her old home, made new and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact. But it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. Not much was recognizable. The smells were new, even though she sprayed her perfume in each room, the layout was different albeit beautiful, and the sounds were foreign to her ears, even when the music was playing. One important thing was missing, that could tie it all together and make it more than just an address.

Mason.

A hum down the hall from the refrigerator and the whirl from the blades of her fan across the room seemed to be the only sounds in the apartment, and although her ears were happy for the silence of the night, it was surprising how the term ‘deafening silence’ rang true. It was so quiet she could practically hear her own heart beating and each breath she took. Granted that dot on the ceiling was an interesting diversion, she would give anything to be focusing on Mason’s annoying snoring at this very moment.