If Tomorrow Never Comes (31 page)

           
 
All of Chicago, and the rest of the world,
would awaken and as they consumed their morning meal, sipped caffeine, commuted
to work, while moms' shushed their riotous children, newspapers and the
broadcast systems of America would unravel the holocaust.
 
Jake and Jordan would again make front-page
headlines.

           
Shaking their heads in disgust,
clucking their tongues and releasing sighs of relief, the citizens that did not
go in search of the music of the night would deem themselves fortunate to have
been safe within the refuge of their homes.
 
Others less fortunate would forever remember the “Phantom of Death.”

____________

           
With his psyche deranged from
bereavement, tears splashing over cheeks, Butch mumbled his undecipherable
agony repeatedly as he sat on the floor cradling and rocking Marla's body, her
elegant black dress scarlet, face ashen, eyes vacant from death's grip.
  

           
An amazed lone detective stood
wondering how, without firing a shot; he'd managed to prevent Scorpios' men
from interfering, all now handcuffed by DEA agents.

           
Stunned by the suddenness of it all,
Margaret neglected to release the safety on the gun she held.
 
Instead of firing, it fell to the carpet the
moment Jake and Jordan plummeted to the floor.
 
Rushing to their aid, finding them unconscious and splattered with
blood, she became hysterical.
 
Buckling
knees smacked the floor with a thud bringing her between the two people she
loved.

           
There was no time for
deliberation.
 
Paralyzed by shock, his
white tuxedo and hands splashed crimson Billy tried to comprehend all that took
place.
 
With eyes repeatedly making their
rounds from his father’s body slumped on the table, blood gushing from a bullet
wound to his head, to Jake, Jordan, Marla, the smoking gun nothing else
registered as the scene replayed like a scratched record.
 

           
Wrenching his body toward Jordan the
instant Scorpio fired his gun, the thrust of the bullet hurled Jake into
her.
 
Billy's ears still rang from the
horrible sounds of Jake's groan, of Jordan's head cracking against the
floor.
 
A split second later Scorpio
turned his gun on Marla.
 
Her facial
features depicting pain, and anguish, her blood-curdling scream as well as
Butch’s grief, indelibly written to memory.
 

           
The worst was when, a split second
before they widened with surprise, his father's eyes met his.
  
How Scorpios’ ludicrous smile turned somber
as he stretched his fingers toward him before falling forward onto the table.
  
Never again would Billy have to endure one
of his father’s cold stares that all too frequently dripped with criticism,
conveyed disappointment, and disgust.

           
Now all Billy could see was the
assembly of admirer's and co-workers gathering around the motionless couple on
the floor.
 
The bedlam making it
virtually impossible for paramedic's to push their way through the frantic
crowd, too much precious time elapsing before they were able to reach the
victims.
 

           
As if his eyes were a video camera
whose angle had been widened, Billy took in the entire chaotic scene, random
close-ups of, the crowd's faces smitten with soulful anguish, lips moving in
silent prayer, arms blotting perspiration, and tears, women turning their faces
into escorts' lapels.
 
People staring
whey-faced and incredulously at the paramedic's yanking, open their bags
frantically fumbling for vital apparatus.
 

           
Before their experienced hands could
summon any kind of a miracle, a scream erupted.
 
Jordan shot upward.
 
With an
incredible amount of strength, she shoved Margaret aside along with those
trying to attend to Jake.
 
The ranks
closed in around her.

           
Perched on her knees beside Jake
although she could see no visible signs as to where the bullet entered, she
knew with awful certainty he’d been hit.
 
A heart-wrenching scene unfolded as profanities spilled from her mouth
and her fingers tore maddeningly at his clothing in her desperate search for
the wound. Physically thwarting and verbally cursing everyone who attempted to
help, she ripped his jacket open, and tore loose his blood soaked shirt.
 
She did not stop, could not, so suffocating
was the need to, pluck the deadly bullet from him, breathe life back into
him.
 
Ranting and raving her fingers continued
to shred material until finding what they sought, a deadly bullet that did not
penetrate his heart only because Jake kept his promise by wearing his
bulletproof vest.
 
Relief swamping her
brought Jordan’s body across his chest, her voice giving in to screaming vocal
chords expressing her

thanks.

           
Seconds seemed like years before
Jake's fingers snatching her hair yanked her head back, his weak voice
immersing her in joy.
 
“Jesus Christ,
Jordan.
 
When are you going to learn to
trust me?
 
Didn't I tell you I'd keep all
my promises?”
 

           
Jubilation instantly realigned the
mass of faces staring at their hero.
  
Riotous cheers and laughter filled the room.
                    

           
Raising her torso slightly, Jordan's
fists scrubbed her moisture riddled face pink with glee before her arms found
Jake's neck practically breaking it in a mad attempt to bring their lips
together.
 

           
Before their lips touched, he
gripped her arms, and held her from him barking worriedly, “You didn't drink
from that glass, did you?”
 
When she
shook her head no, he shrieked, “Dammit, Jordan, don't you ever criticize my
smoking again.
 
You're going to be the
death of me yet.”
 

           
Her sweet, full lips crushing his
cut off what she knew would be a lecture littered with expletives.
 
Hauling her to him, they became a tender scene
that brightened the gloom and erupted thunderous whoops and hollers.

           
Only then did Billy's eyes converge
on the person responsible for killing Scorpio, hands cuffed, an officer on
opposing sides, despite years of separation, he recognized his mother.
 
As they stared blankly at each other and
elation continued to ring in the room, no one noticed the parcel on the table
had disappeared, nor could anyone have predicted what tomorrow's dawn held in
store.
  

CHAPTER 29

The
dark side of eventide is a sphere between sunset and sunrise that coax dreams
to duel with nightmares.
 
Together they
toy with our sub-conscience until we can no longer distinguish tangible from
fabrication.
 
A realm when we are most
vulnerable, when sleep evades us.

Adamantly
refusing hospital care, after long deliberation, Jake finally agreed to have
Philip drive them home, a dear friend, and the detective who had recently
returned from the West Coast.
 
Not
wanting Jordan out of his sight, arm in arm they claimed the back seat.
 
Biting at what little remained of her
fingernails Margaret joined them.
 
No one
spoke on the long journey home.
 
Shock
had taken its toll.
 

Overhead
moving swiftly dark swelling clouds trumpeted a coming storm.
 
Moments later steady drizzles of moisture
pattered the roof.
 
A mass of jagged
splinters lit the sky as thunder jarred the vehicle, an intense storm that soon
became hammering rain.
 
Windshield wipers
swishing rapidly at the deluge could not hold the sheets of water at bay but, amazingly,
the torrential cloudburst blocking the path of a bright sunny day made the
obstacles ahead crystal clear.
 

Everyone
had withdrawn within his or her cocoon. Philip was mulling over the information
he never had time to discuss with Jake.
 
Considering what had transpired Jake already knew that he’d located
Billy’s mother to verify that he was Scorpio’s son.
 
She had assumed because of the path her son
had chosen, that he’d escaped Scorpio’s control.
 
She should have known better.
 
As his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror
examined his cargo, Philip decided there would be plenty of time for the
remainder of the story, tomorrow perhaps.

A
tornado was twisting within Jake and Jordan spiraling, drilling upwards stealing
their minds, the staleness of the past funneling and picking up ferocious
speed, a force making the fierce storm outside, irrelevant.
 
It didn’t matter how hard or fast their
psyche ran the inferno of change was engulfing them, a labyrinth ten times
worse than anything that had happened in the past.
 
Before dawn, both needed to find
answers.
 
Locked in an embrace, there
were no words to ease the granulating emotions.
 
As sure as the moon fell dark, the sun would herald another day by then,
the mountain of litter before them needed clearing.

Margaret
was busy silently thanking God for saving the two people she loved, and asking
that they might find the peace both deserved.
 
Born no fool, she knew there was more to their story; it was stirring
the air and robbing oxygen.
 
She believed
it best that she never know all the buried secrets, and had to trust their love
for one another would be strong enough to carry the burdens.

While
the stress from all that happened mingled with that, yet to come they listlessly
entered Jake’s apartment.
  
Jordan went
directly to the bedroom to lie down for just a few minutes, she said, to ease
the nauseating pounding in her head.
 
Unable to trust her, Jake settled into his chair beside the bed.
 
Margaret invited Philip to get a few hours of
rest in her spare bedroom.

Thinking
of how close he came to losing her, suddenly, Jake could not see beyond
Jordan’s elegant dress.
 
Her restless
changing of positions offered splendid views of the curves beneath the thin,
adhering fabric, each breath stretching the material taut, making all too
visible the dark circles, the erected nipples, shifting gold that clung to a
lean rip cage, stomach, and the juncture between her legs.

He
cursed the moon’s intrusion that was wide-awake and determined to keep him the
same, the searchlight magnifying a strap that had slipped from a shoulder
taking with it a portion of bodice exposing a generous amount of breast.
 
He could overlook the bloodstains, they were
his therefore it didn’t matter.
 
Still,
for a breath of a second, he wondered if death would be easier than knowing
she'd be out there, somewhere, and that he'd spend the rest of his life
searching, wanting.

Already
scorched by desire, the heat and humidity of the night was antagonizing.
 
The urge to, go to Jordan, cover her with his
body; enjoy her gifts was unbearable.
 
A
driving mad kind of lust he couldn‘t quench before persuading her to stay, to
marry him, to spend forever in his arms.
 
Troubling him now was finding the words, and the right moment to
accomplish the formidable task.
 
Sweating
profusely, he decided a shower was long overdue.

As
the room glowed by the light of the moon like a sleek feline, Jordan stretched
and yawned.
 
Sleep had provided a false
sense of peace.
 
Now that she was
wide-awake, and her headache had eased, everything came charging forward.
 
The possibility of staying wrung her heart.
 
Just when there might be a tomorrow she knew
yesterday’s would come to torment.
 

The
sound of running water signaled Jake was in the shower.
  
“Now,” her mind screamed. “Go now!”
  
Surely, someone found the package containing
juicy details that would bring great delight to the gossiping world.
 
At this very moment, the universe probably
knew.
 
The worst part was she could
handle what other people thought.
 
No one
mattered except Jake.
 
If he discovered
her past, she’d evaporate into oblivion crazy thinking, considering that
eventually he'd find out anyway.
 
The
past always has a way of creeping up when you least expect, as if dirt swept
under a carpet.
 
The longer they were
together, the harder it would be to keep secrets', then, how would she say
goodbye?
 
It was best to be truthful
now.
 
Jake deserved to know, but, not
yet, not tonight, she wasn't ready to leave, so oppressive was the need to lie
beneath him just one more time.
 
Maybe,
if there were a God, he’d find it in his heart to grant a miracle that would
allow taking a part of Jake with her.