Frayed Rope (6 page)

“Motherfucker!”

I could cry right now. I’m exhausted. I’ve been up since before dawn and I just want to stuff my face and down a bottle of wine before I crash into bed. Norm won’t stop barking and I realize it’s not the friendliest kind.

“Do you always have a filthy mouth, or is it only when I’m around?”

I know that voice, and after this morning I hoped I’d never have to hear it again.

Okay, maybe that's a lie, but definitely not so soon.

I whirl around to face the bastard as Norm comes barreling up the steps. I give her a settle down motion with my hands and address the stranger while reaching my hand inside the hobo bag that holds my gun. I’m sure I won’t need it. He doesn't look threatening, actually he looks pretty damn good in worn out jeans and a long sleeve Henley.

“What the fuck are you doing at my house?”

I’m not sure whether I want to weep or shoot him because I haven’t had any visitors here, and although it gets lonely I haven’t come to terms with the fact I may need to have a friend again one day.

Definitely not today though. Wisely he takes a few steps back, not because he’s afraid of the dog that he’s looking at with adoration but obviously he’s noted the confused and pissed off expression on my face. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I saw the dog outside; I also saw what looked like somebody moving in. Wasn’t sure if Tom finally moved back and got a dog, or rented the place out.”

He’s looking over my head into the home, which is much different from Tom’s older decor.

“It’s rented.”

“So it is,” he says, giving me a skeptical look.

“What?”

“The
what
is, I’m glad Tom finally moved on. And I guess I’m here now to introduce myself to my new neighbor,” he says with a shit eatin’ grin on his face.

“I don't have any neighbors, now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got-”

He cuts me off.

“Ya, ya, shit to do, so you said this morning. Well, I live next door. Just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

“Neighbors?”

“That’s what I said woman.”

He looks way more pleased than I am.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Afraid not,” he replies.

The smug grin returns.

I back into the house and begin to close the door. What are my odds? Apparently not fucking good. I should be more afraid of this morning’s stranger showing up on my porch, but the mention of Tom moving on and the truck next door brings it all together. Of course he’d live in the nearly black box next door. I don't know him from Adam but the dark and broody house suits him, I can admit that much.

I really have nothing left to say so I bend down to pick up the soup can that’s blocking the door while he begins to collect the few that are left on the porch.

“I can get it,” I say more forcefully than intended.

“Already done.”

He frowns, hands me the rest and backs away from the door. I can’t handle the attention, or him looking at me like he’s trying to figure me out. I give him a nod and close the door behind me. From what Tom mentioned he’s not home often so I shouldn’t be running into him every day.

I can’t decide whether that pleases me or not. 

Chapter Six

I wake up with a pounding headache to something that sounds as loud as a chainsaw.

Gah, shoot me now.

I take stock of my surroundings when the room starts to settle. It still baffles me waking up somewhere new, but I’m slowly getting used to it.

No nightmares last night, or at least not the kind that woke me up. Perhaps it was the two and a half bottles of wine I drank before bed that kept me comatose throughout the night. They may keep me handicapped for the better part of the morning as well.

I peer toward the window. It looks like it’s going to rain soon, judging by the lack of sunshine. I hate days like this, they remind me of the loss. I used to embrace cloudy cool days, curl up on the sofa and read some mystery smut in front of the fire with a good bottle of wine. Now I’d just prefer to sleep the day away, or forgo the smut and head straight to the wine.

Nature calls and I have no choice but to drag my sorry ass out of bed. I finish my business and get to brushing my teeth. One look in the mirror reminds me how I feel. The bags under my eyes reflect my constant lack of rest; my hair is a giant mass of bed head curls because I didn't iron it after my shower last night.

I’m always pale after I drink which makes the marks stand out more around my neck. I could’ve gotten the scars fixed at Doctor Reveres, but he wouldn’t do everything at the same time and I refuse to be there longer than I had to. I can hide what’s left on my body with clothing and jewelry.

A handful of Ibuprofen later and coffee in hand, I make my way to the back deck. The noise has stopped thank god so it should be my typical quiet morning staring at the water. Norm takes off like she usually does to make her morning rounds as I curl up in a light blanket on the lounge.

If this were the past I’d have my cell phone stuck in my hand right now checking Facebook updates and planning a dinner with friends and their kids.

Now my morning routine consists of coffee and blank stares in the distance. I hoped to contact my best friend from home when I finally got settled under a new name. But either I haven’t found the time, or I’m still too fucking scared to potentially put her life in danger.

Most likely the latter.

I have one prepaid burner phone in my bag. I’ve only used it twice in the past month to confirm deliveries to the house. That’s it.

I’ve survived on practically a few sentences, with a handful of strangers for the past six months. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to go home again and be at least partially the woman I once was. Then I wonder, do I even want to go home again?

My old passport and identification is in the safe deposit box with some money. I don't know if I’ll ever need it again, but it’s there none the less. I used it to enter the United States the day I ran from home. The day I left the only sister I’ll ever have, hopefully not only to ensure her safety, but mine as well.

The visit to my home from the useless Detective Braumer cemented it all for me that day, solidified the fact I couldn’t stay in my old little town any longer. I was still recuperating from my attack, hell bent on proving to the Detective that another man was out there to get me. He blew the theory out of the water and dismissed me like shit off his shoe.

Detective Braumer sat across from me on the black leather chair. Smug as always, seeming to do his job well as oppose to pushing early retirement.

“Ms. O’Connor, we’ve gone over this a dozen times. At this point there’s nothing more we can do.”

I fucking hate this man.

“Mr. Braumer, I’ve woken up at this house every day with a single rose lying on my doorstep. The same rose that was left on my doorstep every fucking day up until the night I was taken! How is there nothing more you can do?”

I’m trying to keep my calm but for fuck’s sake a girl can only handle so much shit before she loses her fucking mind.

“A kind neighbor perhaps, Ms. O’Connor. Maybe an old friend?”

The fucking bastard.

“You know I’ve been in touch with everyone I know, I’ve also had people ask around town. Nobody knows who it is, and this isn’t questionable to you? You’re not even going to look into it?”

He moves to stand and straightens his jacket.

“As I said, nothing can be done. Until a threat is made, it’s a dead end.”

“Have you called flower shops? Anything? Wouldn’t that help? I fucking told you there were two people in on my attack! And the fucking flowers PROVE IT!”

I can tell by the look on his face he’s about to shut me down again. This man is fucking useless and Detective Miller is gone to some family function on the east coast so he’s not able to help me. If he were here, he would help. I know he would.

“YOU KNOW WHAT! FORGET IT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE AND I HOPE THE DOOR KNOCKS YOU ON THE ASS ON YOUR WAY OUT!”

Norm breaks me out of my funk and I realize I have tears streaming down my face and my coffee is cold. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried and it’s usually when I’m extremely angry. Maybe that's what these are, angry tears because sometimes I just don't know what the fuck to do with myself.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brings my head up. My neighbor is standing at the base of my stairs, I never heard him approach. The damn dog never even warned me. I give her a death stare for being disloyal and he obviously catches it.

“She was over at my house, staring at the burgers I was grilling for lunch. I suppose you could say we came to a truce.”

This means he obviously fed her.

I’m too afraid to speak yet while trying to discretely dry the wetness off my face so I just nod.

“She’s a nice dog. Nothing other than the bandana around her neck though, so I don’t know what to call her.”

His approach is gentle, he senses my unease and he’s doing his best to tread lightly.

I take a deep breath and look at his face. No sunglasses today due to the dark sky. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black. For some reason I figured he would fill the tall dark and broody cliché, sporting those cerulean blues everyone talks about but rarely sees.

Nope.

They’re blacker than night with a ring of grey around the outside. I clear my throat before responding to his question.

“Norma.”

His lips twitch like he wants to smile and he pats his leg to get her attention. She waddles over, tail wagging and scrubs up against his thigh. Next to me she looks like a horse, next to him she might as well be a Pomeranian.

“It was nice to meet you Norma, thanks for joining me for lunch.”

He looks up at me in question, waiting or ready to ask me something.

“We may have got off on the wrong foot yesterday. My name’s Ryder. Ryder Callaghan.”

Of course his fucking name is Ryder. Why wouldn’t it be? I don't know why he’s gracing me with his whiskey voice when I was nothing but a bitch to him yesterday. Now he’s being kind and I’m honestly not sure if I’m ready for that yet.

Maybe it was the tears that got to him? Civil I can do. Being too friendly implies having friends and I’m not ready for that to happen yet either.

I keep my response short and sweet.

“Elle. Thanks for feeding my dog.”

That's as much as I can manage at this point. He’ll pick up eventually that I’m not much of a talker. I stand up to make my way into the house to hibernate for the rest of the day when he speaks again.

“Elle,” he says, slightly shaking his head in a contemplative way.

I give him my signature nod and head into the house.

* * *

The sand stirs up behind me as I pound my way back toward home. It’s been a long time since I jogged outdoors and I realize just how dull burning miles on the treadmill back in Phoenix was. I missed the wind in my face and the smell of the outdoors.

I’ve really pushed it today. Sweat is pouring down my temples and my calf muscles have begun to burn. I’m coming up on the neighbor’s house,
Ryder’s house,
and notice Norma sitting on his back deck. She’s too lazy to come jogging with me, so I assumed she’d be waiting at home like she normally does.

I give a quick whistle and she waddles toward me. I notice the lone figure on a deck chair as he gives a small wave. I don't plan on stopping to chat; I didn’t wrap a scarf around my neck to cover the marks, since it would look fucking ridiculous with my running gear, so I continue home.

I haul my sweaty self up the steps and make my way inside. It’s the first sighting of Ryder since I met him four days ago. He seems to keep to himself and that's perfectly fine with me.

I don't have many plans for today. It’s Friday. Not that that matters. Every day is fucking Friday in my life. Or whatever day of the week I want to call it. I decide on a shower and a nap due to my once again lack of sleep last night. Then maybe I’ll cook myself a steak and open a nice bottle of wine. My new shipment of books arrived at the post office yesterday, so maybe I’ll settle in after dinner for a night of smut.

I peel off my sweaty running gear and turn on the shower. One thing people take for granted is a good hot shower. I came to this conclusion twice in my life, once when I was bloody and beaten in a cool, damp basement with a psychopath. The other when I’d been mummified at the hands of Doc Revere and had to endure sponge baths and dry shampoo for a week.

Thus, I’ve become what you might call a hot water whore.

After both these incidents I spent ample time under the hot running liquid. What were once fifteen minute trips in and out turned into me standing under the spray until the water ran cold.

After my shower, I wrap up in my robe and a blanket and curl up on the couch. Sometimes running gives me an extra boost of energy, sometimes it takes me straight to bed.

“What time are you going to get here hunny?” asks my mom. They’re all packed and ready to go while I’m still stuck in traffic due to a broken down train forty minutes from home.

“I haven’t a damn clue mom. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. I’m blocked in by traffic in front and behind I can’t even get turned around to try a different route.”

Why I didn’t cancel this useless checkup at the doctor’s office today is beyond me. I’m healthy; I should’ve stayed the fuck home. Now I’m stuck in traffic while the rest of them are ready to head to the airport. Shit!

“Temper, temper. It won’t help you right now. The traffic will clear eventually, until then it doesn't sound like there’s much you can do.”

My poor mother, I know she hates traveling at night and if I don't get there soon, she will be.

New plan.

“Mom, head to the hotel. If I have to pay more parking for the extra vehicle it’s not a big deal. I’m not going to miss the six a.m. flight tomorrow, that's for sure, but for all I know I could be here until the sun goes down.”

“I don't want to leave without you Jayne, but if we don't get moving soon Lilly’s going to be one crabby child for the early flight tomorrow.”

The family trip to Florida is already heading down the shitter. I planned and paid for this trip six months ago. I can’t disappoint Lil’, I’ll just drive through the night on my own.

“Go without me mom. I’ll figure this shit show out and meet you there later tonight or early morning. Leave my suitcase behind though; I’d like to change before I get back on the road.”