Grave Intentions (19 page)
Authors: Lori Sjoberg
If she weren’t here, he wouldn’t be uneasy. If she weren’t here, his heart wouldn’t feel like it was about to burst out of his chest like the thing in
Alien
. And yet he wanted her there, needed her there, his own personal beacon of light.
Alien
. And yet he wanted her there, needed her there, his own personal beacon of light.
“I never told you how I ended up like this,” David said, staring straight ahead because if he looked at her now he’d end up doing something they’d both regret.
“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. Do you think you trust me enough to share?”
Trust wasn’t the issue. No, it was more a deep-seated aversion to reliving a lifetime he’d rather forget. He’d operated under mental lockdown for so long he wasn’t sure what it felt like to open up and share.
David caught her gaze in the glass again; felt another heady burst of desire flash through his veins. He knew then that he had to tell her—it was only right—to give her fair warning about the man he really was.
“I served in Korea,” he began, coughing into his fist to clear his throat. “But you already knew that part.”
Sarah nodded.
“War’s nothing like you see in the movies. It’s chaotic and ruthless. You’re scared shitless most of the time, shooting at ghosts and shadows. It’s an awful feeling, never knowing if you’re going to wake up the next morning or see your family again. After a while, it makes you capable of things you never would’ve imagined.”
David swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He spared a quick glance in Sarah’s direction. She watched him with rapt attention, anxiously waiting for him to continue.
“The Battle of Chosin lasted a little over two weeks. It was winter, and the weather had turned so damn cold I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes most of the time.” His mouth twitched into a solemn line. Lost in his memories, he rhythmically clenched and unclenched his hands, something he used to do to keep the blood circulating in his fingers. “It made loading a rifle a major pain in the ass.”
“I can imagine.”
“Thirty thousand United Nations troops were surrounded by over a hundred thousand Chinese. Our unit got separated while covering the right flank of the 1
st
Marines Division. When the reinforcements got cut off at Hagaru-ri, we knew we were up the creek. Our only chance of making it out alive was to break through the south and rendezvous with the Marines. We were running low on food and ammo, so we only took the bare essentials and burned the rest so the Chinese couldn’t use it.” His eyes were still fixed on the darkness outside, but he wasn’t seeing anything in the present. Instead, he saw rocky terrain and a frozen reservoir half a world away.
st
Marines Division. When the reinforcements got cut off at Hagaru-ri, we knew we were up the creek. Our only chance of making it out alive was to break through the south and rendezvous with the Marines. We were running low on food and ammo, so we only took the bare essentials and burned the rest so the Chinese couldn’t use it.” His eyes were still fixed on the darkness outside, but he wasn’t seeing anything in the present. Instead, he saw rocky terrain and a frozen reservoir half a world away.
“They came at us, day and night, wearing us down physically and mentally. As the days went by our numbers got lower and the Chinese got braver, moving closer to our convoy with each attack.”
More memories surfaced, playing in his mind like an ancient newsreel. Bullet-ridden corpses facedown in the snow, their bodies frozen solid. Soldiers burned beyond recognition by napalm or white phosphorous. Whimpers of the wounded and dying echoing across the reservoir, their pleas for help unanswered. Men huddled together in the night, frantically searching the dark for signs of movement. The relentless onslaught of enemy forces annihilating his band of brothers with ruthless efficiency. Those lucky enough to survive faced frostbite and hypothermia as Siberian winds sent temperatures plunging way below zero.
“I was assigned to cover one of the rear trucks. A couple of my buddies were in the back; they’d been hit by sniper fire the night before. The cold kept freezing the gears, but somehow we managed to keep it running. I didn’t see the Willie Pete grenade until after it hit the truck.” His upper lip curled as the memory emerged from a place he’d locked up years ago.
White phosphorous was a weapon of frightening voracity. It sticks to the skin and burns deep into the flesh, inflicting horrific second- and third-degree burns. No wonder most civilized nations now banned its use against civilian and military targets.
“We were able to drag a few of them out, but . . . Jesus, the burns were so bad.” He’d never forget the sound of their screams, the sickening stench of burnt flesh. An involuntary shudder ran through him and he felt Sarah’s hand wrap around his, anchoring him to the present and giving him the strength to continue.
“That evening, I sat watch over my buddy Jimmy. The poor son of a bitch was burned so bad his clothes were fused to his skin. He couldn’t stop shaking from the cold and the shock, and the pain was so bad he couldn’t see straight. The medic said he’d be lucky to make it through the night.”
David blew out a ragged breath while his free hand continued flexing. He really didn’t want to tell her the next part, but she deserved full disclosure from the company she kept. “It’s a hard thing, watching a man suffer. I couldn’t let him go through all that pain, knowing he didn’t stand a chance of making it out alive.”
“You ended his suffering,” Sarah said, a statement rather than a question.
David nodded, unable to bring himself to look in her direction. “Yeah. Him and two others who were just as bad.” One quick snap and their pain had ended. “I died the next morning. Took three bullets and a bayonet to the chest while covering the rear. Next thing I knew, I was back on the field, harvesting souls.”
There were days he could still feel the bayonet slicing into his chest, could see the look of determination on the face of the young Chinese soldier. The wounds may have healed, but the scars remained.
Sarah’s face had lost most of its color. Her hold on his hand loosened, their connection now tenuous at best. “David, I had no idea.”
“How could you?” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, like the memories no longer haunted him. His hand slipped free from her grip, preparing for the reaction he was sure to follow.
She stood quiet for a long time, probably trying to figure out a graceful way of leaving without things getting awkward. He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day a woman found out her next-door neighbor was a killer.
Finally, she looked up at him and said something totally unexpected.
“That’s it?” Sarah’s brow knitted with confusion. “That’s what damned you? I don’t understand. You helped them die with dignity.”
“I committed murder, plain and simple.”
“But it’s not simple,” Sarah insisted, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “It was an act of compassion. You spared them hours of agonizing pain. How can mercy be bad?”
“Rules are rules.” Even if he personally considered them bullshit. David turned to meet her gaze. “It’s not our place to override the natural order.”
“So let me get this straight,” she said, a hand cocked on her hip. “It’s perfectly acceptable to murder another man in the name of war, but to end a man’s suffering is an offense punishable by damnation?”
“Pretty much.”
Her mouth dropped open at his answer. “That makes absolutely no sense. God must be a man.”
It was kind of sweet, the way she was getting all riled up over some perceived injustice on his behalf. Flooded with unanticipated relief, he cracked a thin smile. “I thought you’d be repulsed by what I’d done.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m overjoyed to learn you killed three people. But I think your reasons were . . .” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “Noble, I guess. I’ve always believed in quality of life over quantity.”
Noble. Of all the things he’d been called, noble had never made the list. But coming from her, with a look of such sincerity, it made his heart melt, just a little.
“Knowing what you know now, if you had the chance to do it again, would you do anything differently?”
Over the years, he’d asked himself the same question a million times. A month ago, he might have given a different answer. Part of him wished he’d let nature take its course, to allow his brothers-in-arms to endure those final excruciating hours before meeting their fate. After all, a token act of mercy had earned him sixty years of bullshit.
Still, he couldn’t see himself standing by and watching them suffer. Deep down he was a coward; too weak to stomach a soldier’s final moments, just as he was too weak to open his heart to a willing woman.
It dawned on him then, how everything in his life had led to this very moment. If he hadn’t ended Jimmy’s suffering he wouldn’t have become a reaper, and if he hadn’t become a reaper he never would have met Sarah. And that would have been most unfortunate.
“Not a damn thing.”
chapter 15
Needing the connection, Sarah twined her fingers with David’s, the warm strength of his grip a welcome comfort. He kept his focus locked on the darkness outside but gave her hand a light squeeze.
She glanced up and noticed the tightness of his jaw, the strain around his eyes, and wondered how much it had cost him to share the horrors of his past. Obviously, it was something he preferred to keep to himself, a wound still raw after sixty years.
“Why did you tell me?” she asked. “Why now?”
“I don’t know,” David said after a long pause, his tone as neutral as his expression. “I guess it was in the interest of full disclosure.”
“Thought you’d run me off, eh?”
A faint smile crossed his lips, but he didn’t answer one way or the other.
“Nice try, David. But you’re going to have to come up with something a lot worse than that to scare me away.”
“I’ll make a note of it.”
Hand in hand they stood in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
How could he stand it, this self-imposed emotional solitude? No man was an island, especially when so much stress was involved. Sooner or later, something had to give. He had to have some sort of outlet, but what?
As her mind wandered so did her eyes. Her gaze eventually landed on his desk, making note of the meticulous organization of rows and piles. In the center of it all was a small stack of hand-drawn pictures. Slipping free from his grip, she walked over to the desk and picked up the drawings.
“Wow,” she said, admiring the top portrait. It was a picture of Buford, lying on the tiles by the front door. Every feature had been captured, from sagging jowls to stubby tail. Her fingers traveled lightly over the paper, admiring the detailed nature of the drawing. “I never knew you were so talented.”
“Aw shit.” Judging by the frown, David wasn’t thrilled to find her appreciating his handiwork. “You weren’t supposed to see those.”
“Why not? You did a wonderful job with Buford.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just something I do to pass the time. I got a box full of them in the closet.”
What a load of bull. Drawing in such detail took a great deal of concentration and effort. It was more than a time waster and they both knew it.
Sarah set the picture of Buford on the desk and made her way through the rest of the pile, taking time to examine each image. Most of them were landscapes, like the fountain at Lake Eola and the launchpad at Kennedy Space Center. Others were more general; a heron at the bank of a river, the bloom of a hibiscus, a cypress tree in winter.
“These are all so wonderful,” she said, amazed by the depth and clarity of each image. She never would have guessed he possessed such an artistic flair. “You really should . . .”
Her voice trailed off when she reached a picture of herself. He’d drawn her with a mournful expression, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Every feature was represented, right down to the annoying cowlick on the side of her forehead. “Whoa.”
“Oh Christ,” David muttered under his breath, a look of complete and utter mortification on his face. He grabbed the portrait and stuffed it under another pile on his desk.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, perplexed by his reaction. “It’s incredible. You captured every detail, even those ugly moles on the side of my face.”
“They aren’t ugly. They’re part of what makes you unique.” His voice sounded rough, strained. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
His gaze caught hers, and this time she saw so much more than the usual aloofness. She saw warmth, and passion, and a yearning so strong it made her a little light-headed.
“When . . . when did you draw that?”
David was quiet for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. “Couple weeks ago, but I don’t remember the exact date. It was around the time you normally come home from work. You got out of the car and had such a sad look on your face. I couldn’t help but wonder what made you so blue.”
“Probably work,” she said, since it depressed her pretty much every day lately. If it weren’t for her research she would have quit back when Angelo demoted her. But she was determined to finish what she started, to complete the trials and find out once and for all if her hypothesis proved correct.
“Yeah, I had a feeling.” Brows drawn low, he met her gaze again, holding it for what seemed like forever. Then he shook his head and looked away.
“What is it?”
“I don’t think I want to tell you.”
Oh, this had to be something good. She nudged him with her elbow. “Oh come on, you can’t say something like that and then not tell me. Spill it.”
David dragged a hand through his hair, looking like a man on his way to the gallows. “Reapers have the ability to influence the human mind. It comes in handy when you find yourself on dangerous assignments.”
Funny, he’d never mentioned this particular skill before. Why, when he’d been so open about everything else? Unless . . .
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Did you ever—”
“No!” he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. “I swear I’ve never entered your mind.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Even though she believed him, she still sensed he was holding something back. His face was flushed and his eyes looked everywhere but in her direction. Most telling, though, was the way he kept flexing his hands. She knew him well enough to realize he did it whenever he got agitated. “Why not?”
David stared down at his shoes. “I can’t.”
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“No.” He had the look of a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I mean I can’t influence your mind. God knows I’ve tried, but for some reason it doesn’t work with you.” His expression softened now, his pale eyes warming with unspoken affection. “When you came home that night looking so upset, I wanted to enter your mind so I could ease your troubles.”
His answer caught her off guard. Not sure how to react, she shifted her focus back to the pictures. She found three more portraits of herself; one in full profile, while the second had her dressed casually in shorts and a tank top.
He’d let his imagination run wild with the final drawing. It was an obvious work in progress, a sketchy outline with just enough detail for her to recognize herself in the fine lines and shadows. Even in its partially completed state there was a raw sensuality to the picture, telling her more about the artist than she’d imagined.
She set the pictures down, stunned.
“Like I said, it’s just something I do to pass the time.” David took the drawings and stuffed them in the top drawer of his desk. “Usually I just draw the first thing that pops into my head.”
“Like me.”
“Yeah.” His voice got a little husky. “You’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”
She’d never seen him blush before. She would have felt flattered, if he didn’t seem so damn miserable about it. “Is that such a terrible thing?”
“No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face drawn tight with conflicting emotions. “But it’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then explain it to me. There’s something going on between us, David. I feel it every time we’re together. Don’t you?”
He didn’t answer, but the unchecked anguish in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
Sarah straightened her spine, gathered her courage, and laid it all out on the line.
“I value our friendship, David, but I want more. I need more. And I think you feel the same way.” She rose up on her tiptoes, linked her hands around his neck, and pressed a kiss against his lips.
David’s body tightened, then let loose an involuntary shiver. She kissed him again and this time he kissed her back, his mouth crushing against hers with such unrestrained passion it made her weak at the knees. She felt his muscles loosen and yield, a subtle surrender of body and mind that had his hands skimming over her body, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.
And then he stopped.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her breathing uneven. A haze of lust fogged her brain and her body ached with arousal, demanding she finish what they already started.
David’s hands clenched and unclenched as he stared at her with predatory intensity. For a moment, he looked like he was close to giving in to his desires. But then he closed his eyes, and when they opened the infuriating coolness was back in place. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.” He stepped back, putting more than physical distance between them. “I don’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Anger and disappointment tangled inside her, the frustration of it all bringing her close to tears. “Coward. You’re so damn scared of your own emotions you’d rather feel nothing than take a chance on something wonderful.”
“You think this is easy?” David snapped, the harshness in his voice surprising her. “Well, it’s not. Every day I go out there and watch some of the most god-awful shit you can imagine.
Every. Fucking. Day.
Last week I got to watch a guy get beat to death by some punk with a tire iron.” His eyes blazed bright with heat and anger, hunger and despair, all woven together in a patchwork of clashing emotions. His hands clenched, and she could almost feel the tension radiating off his body. “The only way I can make it through the day without losing my mind is to turn it all off.
All of it.
If I let you in, I have to let in the rest and I don’t think I can handle that, Sarah.”
Every. Fucking. Day.
Last week I got to watch a guy get beat to death by some punk with a tire iron.” His eyes blazed bright with heat and anger, hunger and despair, all woven together in a patchwork of clashing emotions. His hands clenched, and she could almost feel the tension radiating off his body. “The only way I can make it through the day without losing my mind is to turn it all off.
All of it.
If I let you in, I have to let in the rest and I don’t think I can handle that, Sarah.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I don’t have any choice in the matter.” He turned back toward the window, effectively shutting her out of his life and his heart. “Please. You need to go.”
Sarah stared at him, stunned. Not only was he turning her down, he was kicking her out of his apartment. The pain of rejection wrapped around her heart and squeezed so tight she found it difficult to breathe.
“I see,” she said, her voice unsteady as she struggled to find the words to speak. “It’s a shame you’re not willing to give us a try, because we’re both missing out on something wonderful.”
She tipped up her chin and squared her shoulders. In her mind she cursed him, called him every foul word she could think of in both English and Latin, but still the tears threatened, stinging her eyes as she blinked them back.
Before she made a bigger fool of herself, she crossed the room without a backward glance and slammed the door behind her.
Was he out of his fucking mind?
David gave himself a swift mental kick in the ass as he watched Sarah walk out of his apartment with a look of such disappointment it made his soul ache.
He was only doing the right thing. Really. At least that’s what he kept telling himself, although the words lacked any serious conviction.
There was no point in denying his attraction. No, that was painfully obvious to both parties involved. What disturbed him most was the fact he longed for her in ways beyond the physical. He actually liked Sarah, enjoyed her company, felt connected to her in ways that scared the shit out of him.
The question of love bubbled to the surface and he immediately brushed it aside. It was bad enough he’d succumbed to affection and lust. He couldn’t afford to give in to anything deeper. Still, he couldn’t deny the soothing calm he felt whenever she was around. He’d never experienced such a feeling of belonging, not while he drew mortal breath and certainly not during his time as a reaper.
He dragged both hands through his hair, realizing the futility in denying the obvious. Somewhere along the line his emotions had come into play, latching onto Sarah and holding on for dear life. How on earth had he allowed it to happen? All these years, he’d been so careful, only to be blindsided by the skeptic next door.
Pathetic.
Good thing the kid was off working with Dmitri or he’d never hear the end of it.
Irritated beyond all comprehension, he opened the desk drawer and pulled out the half-finished drawing. It wasn’t anywhere close to completion, but somehow he’d still managed to capture the nature of her essence. Stretched out on the couch, she looked intelligent and alluring, sly and seductive, the perfect balance of mind and body he found so enticing.
Shit.
She was in his blood now, a restless, insistent craving he had no means of escaping. Try as he might, it was useless to fight an attraction so ingrained it felt like a part of him.
Decision made, he gave in to the craving and went next door.
She had no choice. She had to move. Maybe change her name, cut her hair.
“Real smooth, Sarah,” she muttered as she stalked into the kitchen and yanked open the freezer door. No way could she ever face David again. In all her life she’d never been so humiliated. This was worse than the time Becky Zainer told the entire senior class that Sarah was still a virgin, or when she got wasted at Susie Martin’s bachelorette party and danced on the bar at Rosie’s.
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