Dark Mysteries (21 page)

Which
only made him smile, leaning forward slightly and pressing a hand
hard against her lower stomach. Making her feel him even deeper. And
then he started moving, the pace fast, each thrust feeling deeper
than the last.

Ellie
cried out, loud, wild. Completely lost in the feeling. The angle that
made his cock feel like it overtook every inch of her depths, his
hand pressing on her belly, making each thrust more powerful. His
other hand slipped from her hips, moving between their bodies and
stroking her clit, pushing her harder and faster toward her peak. The
heels of her feet dug into his shoulders, the muscles feeling
strained, her legs feeling heavy.

His
eyes were locked on her face, his jaw clenched tight, his brows
lowered. His dark eyes were intense, seeing through her. A strand of
dark hair fell over his forehead, sweaty, and she wanted nothing more
than to reach up and brush it away. But his thrusts became
uncontrolled, frantic, and she knew he was as close as she was. She
felt the suspension, was held there for the barest of seconds before
his cock thrust forward and his finger pressed harder on her clit.
And then there was only pleasure. Fireworks. Sensation.

And
she knew with a new and blinding clarity that she was falling a
little bit in love with her private investigator.

Sixteen

He
left to ran some errands, leaving Ellie in the bed, half numb from
the sex and her realization. She was falling in love with Xander. She
heard the front door close and jumped up out of the bed, pacing the
floor, naked, sore. Panicked. She couldn't have feelings for him. It
wasn't smart. Or safe. Or fair to him.

She
walked over to her clothes, slipping on underwear, a bra, leggings,
her gray sweater. She carefully tied up her hair and slipped into the
leather jacket Faith had given her.

She
knew what she needed to do.

A
sharp pain stabbed away in her chest and she moved around the
apartment, trying to ignore it. Let it go. Her stomach turned fluid,
feeling much like that feeling on a roller coaster when the cart
finally tips over the edge.

That
was what leaving Xander felt like.

Sick.
Terrifying. Wrong.

Ellie
covered her face in her hands, bending forward, almost crumpling down
to the floor. She pressed her hands tight to her mouth and let out
one scream. A soul-crushing sound. Defeated. Hopeless.

Then
she swiped at her eyes, brushing the tears away. Because this was
what needed to happen. She needed to protect him. He was too
important. People in her life who became important ended up in
headlines and graves.

She
walked around, collecting her things, tucking them into the box
neatly. Aside from her wallet, she would need to leave them all
behind. The books she loved. The books that she should have known to
keep safe in K's care. The only things she had from her mother.

Wuthering
Heights. Tess of the d'urbervilles. Jane Eyre.

She
could buy new editions. She could write favorite quotes on the inside
covers. But they would never be the same. But if there was anywhere
in the world she wanted to leave them. It was with Xander. It was
only fitting. The four things in the world she loved.

She
went into Xander's office, grabbing a piece of the yellow lined paper
he used so much of and sat down to write. She had to write. And the
first thing that came to mind was a quote from Jane Eyre. From when
Mr. Rochester knew Jane must go away.

"I
sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you — especially
when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere
under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar
string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.
And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land
come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be
snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding
inwardly. As for you, — you'd forget me."

She
let herself cry as she wrote. Knowing it was the last piece of her
Xander would ever know. Wanting to pour out her soul into the words.
She finished the quote, taking a deep breath.

Xander-
I had to go. I'm sorry it had to happen this way. It's not safe. For
me. Especially for you. I need to disappear to protect you. I owe you
more than you can ever know. More than I can ever express. You have
given me more peace and happiness than I have ever known. And you did
it all with no questions. No expectations. You're truly the best
person I have ever met.

Please
don't worry about me. I'm fine. I've done this more than I care to
admit. I am good at it. I am safe. Maybe when the threat has passed,
I can send word. Let you know I made it to my next
location.
But that wont be for weeks. Possibly months. Look for an envelope
without a name. An
address that links back to the middle of
nowhere.

As
for you, you wont be able to respond.

Keep
protecting the little strays that show up on your doorstep. You're
better at it than you give yourself credit for.

I
owe you for the baton

• Ellie
  

She
stood, moving back into the apartment and leaving the note on top of
her box of possessions which she stacked on the foot of the bed where
he would know it was out of place. Within an hour he would know she
was gone.

She
grabbed her wallet, tucking it into the jacket pocket. She stole the
trusty baton from Xander's closet and held onto it like a lifeline.
At least she would have something from him to hold onto. She walked
out the front door, hood up, and ran., tears falling wild and
unstoppable down her face, making her vision blurry. But she knew the
route. She could run it blindfolded.

Her
apartment building looked different. Smaller. Less familiar. She
glanced around, making a dart up the stairs and unlocking her
apartment. She felt Mary's eyes watching her through the peephole.
But even if she called Xander, Ellie would be long gone before he
could get there.

She
barreled into her bedroom, dropping to her knees beside her bed and
hauling the suitcase out. She moved the straps over her shoulders and
walked back into the living room, feeling sad. She always felt sad to
leave. Even though she never really settled in anywhere. No mementos
laying around, no walls painted a color she liked, nothing to miss
when she left. But she did miss it.

She
missed her cramped apartment in Seattle that always smelled like soy
sauce. She missed the sound of her neighbors baby crying in D.C. She
missed the throbbing music from the nightclub below her place in
Philadelphia. She missed the bright walls and the happy, naked people
she shared a commune with in Portland. She missed the pieces of
herself she had to leave behind in each place. The slightly changed
person she became in each new city. The habits she picked up. The
places she walked past.

But
she had changed the most there. In the apartment where she had
finally decided she wanted to stop running. Where she had called
every last private investigator in the phone book. Where she had
allowed herself to dream of a life where she didn't have to keep
changes scenes, changing people, changing herself.

She
would miss her stupid diner job. Her cat-breeding nosy neighbor. And
Xander.

Ellie
took a deep breath, trying to push that thought away. It wouldn't
help. She needed to keep a clear head. She was doing this to protect
him. And she was just going to have to learn to live with the ache in
her chest.

Ellie's
stomach sank to her knees as the living room door flew open, banging
against the wall. But, there in the doorway, was Mary. Her eyes wide.
A cat in her arms. “They're here,” she said, her face
like stone.

“What?”
Ellie asked, feeling frozen.

“They're
here. I just saw them walk int the building.”

“Oh,
my god,” Ellie said, her mind racing with her options. Fire
escape. Possible broken bones from jumping from the too-short ladder.

“Why
are you standing here?” Mary asked, backing into the hall. “Get
in my apartment.”

She
didn't need to be told again. She flew across the hall with Mary,
closing the door without a sound and sliding the locks into place.
The footsteps were in the hall a moment later and Ellie felt her
pulse pounding in her ears. Mary stood off to the side, her eyes
wide, stroking the cat in her arms absentmindedly.

“Where
the fuck is she?” a voice screamed from inside her apartment
and she felt herself shrinking away from it, a knee-jerk reaction.
“You idiot,” he yelled, presumably at Bobby. Then there
were footsteps in the hall again, her apartment door slammed so hard
against the jam that she heard a splintering sound. “Get to the
train station,” he demanded and their footsteps retreated down
toward the staircase.

Ellie
drew in a shaky breath, resting her face against the door. So close.
That was so close.

“So,
I guess you're not taking the train out of the city,” Mary
said, putting the cat down on the floor, watching her.

“I
guess not,” Ellie said, feeling frazzled. That was the way she
had always planned it. There was always a train out of town. She
could walk into the station and jump onto a train and be untouchable
for the length of the ride. And every station she would wind up in,
would have another train, leaving for another place. That was how she
preferred to travel. No guesswork. No way to screw up.

“There's the bus,” Mary suggested, “or the ferry.”

But
the ferry would drop her in Jersey. Would leave her stranded at a
dock in Nick's backyard. She would need a taxi to get her to the
train station from there. Money she really didn't have on hand to
spend.

“The
bus it is,” Ellie agreed, her stomach clenching a bit at the
idea.

“Hey,”
Mary said, walking over the the closet toward her living room and
reaching inside. “Here,” she said, pulling out a gray
peacoat with big black buttons, “switch jackets. If they saw
you coming in, they'll know that one your wearing.”

Ellie
emptied her pockets and slipped out of the old jacket, stepping into
the one Mary was holding open for her. She was busying herself
buttoning it and slipping her things into the pockets while Mary went
back to the closet. She came back holding a black cloche hat that she
reached up and pushed onto Ellie's head. “There,” she
said, stepping back and nodding, “if you keep your head down,
they'll never know it's you.”

“Thanks,
Mary,” she said, feeling a warmth spreading across her chest.
So many good people wanted to help her. And she felt so unworthy.

Mary
nodded. “He seems like a man you should stay away from,”
she said.

“You
have no idea,” Ellie said, moving across Mary's living room to
look out the window. They climbed into Nick's car parked out front
and drove away. She took a breath and moved back toward the door.
“Mary... can you do me a favor?”

“Yeah,”
Mary said, her brows drawing together.

“Wait
a half an hour until you call Xander.” She saw Mary's sad eyes,
like she knew, and felt another stab in her chest. “He will
try to stop me. But I need to get away. To protect both of us,”
she explained.

“Consider
it done. Now go. While you still have time.”

Ellie
nodded at her. “Thanks again,” she said and she was
running. Down the stairs. Onto the street. Her suitcase heavy,
slamming into her back each time her foot landed on the pavement. She
looked like any other tourist, sprinting so they didn't miss their
bus.

A
few minutes later, she was at the bus station, buying a ticket for
Staten Island. Where she could catch a train anywhere else. She would
call K when she got there. Get the location of her new life.

“Eleanor?”
she heard a voice ask behind her, making her spine straighten, her
heart leap into her throat. She turned slowly, reaching into her
pocket to rest her hand around the baton. There was a vague sense of
familiarity there. A face she knew but couldn't quite place. He was
young. Younger than any of Nick's business partners. Her age.
Younger. With sandy hair and arms full of tattoos. She looked down at
his hands, saw a tattoo of a capital A within a circle, the ink made
to look like it was bleeding, like graffiti. The anarchist symbol.
Then her eyes flew up to his again.

He
was a dealer. The one who was bringing Nick's heroin into the city.
The one who was handing out drugs that were killing people.

“Jason,”
she said, clutching the baton tighter. He didn't seem suspicious. Or
particularly surprised to see her. Like maybe Nick hadn't let the
information get out that he was looking for her. Maybe he was keeping
up a charade. Pretending she was still his girlfriend. Still in his
life.

“What
are you doing here?” he asked, sounding casual. Conversational.

“Oh,
I was just seeing the sights. Spent the weekend with a friend. Went
to museums. Tourist stuff,” she said, feeling like she was
going to throw up all over his feet.