Second Sight (4 page)

Chapter 5

“You should eat something,” Ella said later that day.

When he’d gotten in her face about Savannah, she’d been a little bit afraid—he’d meant every word of what he’d said to her. She hated that she’d become the person to piss in someone’s proverbial cheerios. The shameful feeling had remained with her during the past hours, and now, she struggled to make amends with him.

“I’m fine, but thank you. I’ll be heading off to bed now.”

“But it’s only six.”

“I know. I think I’ll go read for a while.”

“Look, I put time and effort into this meal,” she added, more sternly than she had wanted. “Sit down so I can feed you.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on you, Ella,” Zach said with a grin. “I certainly don’t need a babysitter.”

She sighed, a little pang of guilt racing through her. She never should have been so awful to him. He seemed polite and nice, almost refined with his devastating good looks, impeccable clothes, and quiet, yet smooth voice.  And now, she had to apologize for being such a raging bitch. Joe brought that out in her, and she had a tough time letting go when he popped up every so often in her life.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” she bit out, still not fully trusting Zach and still furious with Joe.

Zach waved his hand, as if to clear her words from the air. “You were angry.”

“Yes.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I smell chicken with a hint of barbeque sauce.”

“That’s correct.”

“Well, as long as you’re feeling like I’m not a burden to you, then I would love to dine with you, Ella.”

“We can eat in the dining room. I’ll bring you a plate.”

He nodded and turned, slowly making his way to the table.

As she plated the chicken and some vegetables, her thoughts returned to Joe. It was so like him to put his needs ahead of everyone else’s, and his selfishness drove her crazy. He knew she liked her peace and quiet and preferred being alone. He didn’t care, though, dumping off random men he had recruited at the house until he could find a place for them. Every time she laid eyes on him, her heart hurt for what had been, and what should have been. They had been in love, and he had thrown it all away, casting her aside when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She often wondered if he even realized he had done it, or if, in his eyes, the relationship had just fizzled out.

She carried the food to the living room, set Zach’s plate down in front of him, and then took the chair across from him.

He lifted the paper napkin from the table and unfolded it, placing it on his lap as if he ate in the finest restaurant in town instead of private dining room. He then picked up his knife and fork and pushed them around the plate a little bit, as if to figure out what food had been placed where. Next, he cut a small piece of chicken and brought the fork up to his mouth, but stopped.

“You aren’t trying to poison me, are you?” A small grin played on his lips.

She smiled despite herself. Had she been that awful that her poisoning him actually crossed his mind?

“No, I’m not trying to poison you, I promise. I just want to feed you.”

He nodded, and brought the piece of chicken to his lips, chewing quietly and with his mouth closed.

She had to admit, it felt nice having someone with manners in the house. The last guy had been a slob without any etiquette. His southern accent had been thick, as well, making her think of the white, trailer trash stereotype some comedies had been based on.

When she’d called him on his manners, he had started to try to do nice things for her, like fold her laundry and put it in her room. He’d startled her, and she’d shot him. Thankfully, she hadn’t killed him. At least it got him out of her hair more quickly than originally planned.

“Aren’t you going to eat? The chicken is delicious, by the way. I think I detect a little bit of brown sugar in the sauce. Am I right?”

Zach’s voice brought her back to the present. She shook her head and cut into her own chicken breast. “I’m not sure what’s in the sauce. I just poured it out of the bottle.”

“Really? It tastes homemade.”

They ate in silence for a long stretch.

“This is a large house. Based on my exploration, I’m guessing around five-thousand square feet?”

She nodded; not that he’d notice it. “Probably. It’s five bedrooms, four baths.”

“Granite or marble in the kitchen?”

She’d glanced over his shoulder into the kitchen, just to double check before answering.  “Marble.”

“It seems there are two air conditioning systems, as well. One for the side of the house where your bedroom is, and one for the other side.”

She set down her utensils and stared at him. “Yes, that’s correct. Why would you even consider that, though?”

He grinned, a sly smile that showed just a hint of his white teeth. “I can feel the difference in the air from one side of the house to the next, from one room to the other.”

Had his other senses been heighted because of his blindness?

“How did you become blind?” The question blurted from her lips before she could bite it back.

He set down his fork and wiped his mouth, his plate clean. “Normally, I wouldn’t discuss such things, but since you work within Joe’s organization, I will.”

She stared at him curiously, catching her own reflection in his glasses.

“I was on special assignment with my unit in the jungles of Guatemala. A building exploded, and it seems all of us were affected in different ways.”

“Such as?”

He folded the napkin and set it next to the plate. “I suppose you could say we all ended up with different sets of exceptional skills, abilities that most people don’t have.”

Strange and curious, but not surprising, as she knew what the government and the military could be capable of. She tilted her head, wondering what his expertise could be. Yes, his blindness didn’t seem to make much of a difference in him getting around, but being blind definitely seemed like more of a hindrance than a special skill.

“I’m not following you. How does being blind translate into an exceptional ability?”

He grinned at her again, a disarming smile full of charm, and her own lips turned up in response.

“You’re very forthright and curious, aren’t you, Ella?”

Her cheeks warmed at his response. When she found herself interested in something—or in this case, someone—she did tend to ask questions, giving no regard for personal boundaries. Apparently, Zach didn’t want to discuss these special abilities he’d received after the explosion.

“My apologies. I’m sorry for being so nosey.”

“No apology necessary. I’ll always ben honest with you, and for me, sharing my strange make-up with you at this point in the relationship would be like us jumping into bed and fucking each other senseless. The trust isn’t there for either one of those things to happen. I’m sure in due time it will be, but for now, let’s just get to know each other a little bit better, shall we?”

She nodded, surprised by his bluntness, and his analogy.

“Of -of course,” she whispered.

Standing, she gathered their plates and stepped over Savannah as she went into the kitchen. Zach followed her and laid his hand on her shoulder as she placed the dishes in the sink.

“Dinner was wonderful. Thank you, Ella. Please, let me do the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I can—”

“No, Ella. I insist.”

She moved out from under his touch and placed the dishtowel in his hand. As she left the kitchen, she turned and stopped, watching him. His wide shoulders rolled under his crisp, white button-down shirt as he washed the plates. Even his jeans had creases in them, and she recognized his boots as Col Hann’s. He looked as if he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

“Are you enjoying the view, Ella?”

She startled, and turned and hurried down the hall, wondering how he’d known she watched him.

Chapter 6

Zach woke the next morning to Savannah nuzzling his hand, disoriented in his new surroundings despite it being his third day at the house. That tended to be the hard thing about moving to a new place—he had to relearn layouts, scents, and sounds all over again. He’d spent a long time in that shithole apartment in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and had gotten used to the smell of mold and mildew, the sounds of cars and trucks passing by his front door, and the thuds and noises from his neighbors as they went about their daily activities. Moving from there to the cabin in Flagstaff, and then to here, had his senses in a tizzy.

He sat up and placed his elbows on his thighs, his face in his hands. He concentrated on the layout of the room as he remembered it, wishing he could focus on a big cup of coffee instead. He hadn’t slept well. The neighbor had rolled out their garbage cans at three in the morning, and a dog in the distance hadn’t seemed to be very happy about being left outside for the night. He’d also heard a cat hissing at something, and so had Savannah. That had gotten her all riled up as she was terrified of cats. She may be one hell of a guide dog—calm, cool and collected—but a tangle with a cat last year now had her acting like a T-Rex chased her every time she heard one or they came across one.

He stood and went to the sliding glass door to let Savannah out. He’d found the door in his exploration before heading to bed the night before. After going over the backyard and house floor plan in his head, he’d felt confident that if she used the door, she’d be safe in the backyard.  He found it nice that he didn’t have to make his way through the house to take her out to the yard. However, he made a mental note to go look for the dog shit later.

He left the door open and then fell to the floor, feeling around to make sure his memory had been correct. It had been. He had plenty of room to practice his morning routine of three sets of fifty push-ups, fifty sit-ups, and fifty squats. He may be blind, but he’d be damned before he let his strong, lithe military physique go. The cool morning air invigorated him, as did the smell of fresh-cut grass. The mower noise, he could do without, but he couldn’t have one without the other.

After completing the workout, he headed to the bathroom breathing hard and sweating. When he reached the sink, he closed his eyes, preparing himself for the part of the day he loved the most, and also hated the worst.

He splashed water on his face, then pulled a towel from the rack and dried it. Placing his hands on the countertop, he got ready for the onslaught of images he would see once he opened his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the mirror.

A gun. A living room. A woman with long, dark hair. Savannah swimming in a pool. The same woman, laughing. A computer. Long, slender fingers flying over a keyboard. A coffee machine.

The visions stopped, leaving him in complete darkness again.

He took a moment to memorize every detail of every image, which proved difficult as they came and went so quickly. When he’d had his sight, he’d also possessed a photographic memory, and thankfully, he’d retained a lot of it when he’d been blinded.

The gun seemed to be a Glock; a G42, if he wasn’t mistaken. The woman had been intriguing, her long hair hanging over the left side of her face, her skin smooth and creamy, her dark eyes intelligent and gazing at him questioningly. Who was she? Could that actually be Ella? He’d have to find out.

She had yelled at him not to fall into the pool the night before, and he’d smelled the chlorine, so he assumed the pool he’d seen had been the one here at the house. A brown wall of rock stood at least twenty-five feet high, and a waterfall cascaded down into the water. Trees and flowers of reds and yellow surrounded it, and it had seemed as if a private grotto hid within the rock formation. He’d have to check that out, as well.

The Mac computer had numbers and letters scrolling across it, and he guessed it had to be some type of computer coding. The long, slim fingers racing across the keyboard had looked feminine, but who they belonged to, he didn’t know. One thing he’d learned when he first became aware of his ability was not to assume anything. Those pretty fingers did not necessarily belong to the attractive woman with the long, dark hair, nor did anything imply that the woman could be Ella.

Based on the layout of the living room he’d seen, he guessed that the nice leather furniture belonged in this house.

Now, the vision of the coffee machine pleased him. It definitely had been turned on and set to start brewing at 7 a.m. He didn’t know the current time, but Savannah usually roused him between six and seven, and if the time proved correct, that meant coffee would either be starting soon, or waited for him a mere twenty-five steps away.

He quickly used the toilet and showered, the hot water feeling so good against his skin. After drying off, he walked back into the bedroom and Savannah barked, letting him know she had returned, ready to be at his service.

“Did you run into any cats, my lovely lady?” he asked as he pulled open the closet door.

She whined, and he grinned as he touched his clothing. Even the mention of a cat got her upset. He picked a pair of jeans on a hanger and felt the tag of the button-down shirt. Goose bumps traveled over his skin as the morning breeze wafted through the room, and he shivered. He needed to get dressed.

After pulling on a pair of black jeans and a light blue shirt, if he hadn’t been mistaken, as well as his Col Hann boots, he walked back into the bathroom and found the bottle of gel on the counter. Whenever he bought new grooming supplies, he took a pin and dented the tube. One indent meant toothpaste; two, gel. His shaving cream came in a can, so no need to mark that. Besides, he rarely shaved his jaw clean anyway. He’d come up with that system after he’d brushed his teeth with hair gel. The taste had lasted for days.

As he ran the comb through his hair, he followed it with his fingers, not stopping until every strand felt in place. He ran his hands over his face, not bothering with the stubble, then down the front of his shirt. All the buttons matched up with their holes. His fly was up, his shoes on the right feet.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

He shut the sliding glass door and put on Savannah’s halter. “Let’s find the coffee machine, beautiful.”

He’d seen flashes of Savannah when he’d looked into the mirror—a light golden retriever with kind, dark brown eyes and a happy smile. She weighed about eighty pounds, and if the government ever did anything kind for him after blinding him, it was giving him Savannah, as well as lessons with a trainer on how to be a self-sufficient blind man.

Fucking bastards.

The hiss of the machine met his ears and then he smelled the coffee percolating. Apparently, he’d timed it just right so he’d have the first cup.

As he went from cupboard to cupboard trying to find a coffee cup, he made mental notes of what he found—the door to the right of the sink held dishes. Two panels down, spices. Bowls in the next one, and saran wrap and tin foil in the one after that. Finally, he found coffee cups in the cupboard by the refrigerator. It certainly wasn’t where he’d keep them, but to each their own. Not his kitchen, not his problem.

As he poured the hot liquid, he wondered if he’d ever have his own kitchen again, and if he did, he’d place the saran wrap and tin foil in a drawer, because who in their right mind kept that crap in a cupboard?

Shaking his head, he took a sip of the coffee. It tasted strong against his lips and burned on the way down. Apparently, Ella liked her coffee robust.

As he made his way into the living room, he felt the top of the leather couch, and then took three steps to his left, his leg brushing against the arm of the chair, confirming that his earlier vision had indeed been of this room. He sat down in the chair and sipped his coffee. Savannah came over to him and nudged his leg, then laid down with a sigh.

The silent house soothed him and he laid his head back against the chair, wondering when Ella would make her appearance.

His thoughts drifted back to the woman he’d seen in the mirror. She’d been gorgeous with her long, dark shiny hair that reminded him of black silk. Her fair skin had been creamy smooth, her dark eyes haunting, as if they held secrets she didn’t want anyone to know. However, he did wonder why she wore her hair covering one side of her face. In his experience, women who did so hid something, as if the world couldn’t see them beyond their hair. Could the woman be Ella? And if so, what did she not want the world to see?

Of course, perhaps his assumption was wrong, and the woman would be someone he’d meet in the future, and one who found wearing her hair like that fashionable.

He heard her gentle footsteps on the tile in the foyer. They disappeared as she cut through the carpeted formal family room, and he picked them up again as she entered the kitchen. The sound of coffee hitting the cup met his ears, and then she opened the refrigerator.
Milk or crea
m
.

Deciding it would be best if she knew he sat right around the corner from her so his presence wouldn’t startle her, he called, “Good morning, Ella.”

All sounds ceased for a second, and he smelled her as she rounded the corner.

“Good morning.” Her voice carried just a hint of wariness.

“How are you today?” He smiled as he pushed his sunglasses up his nose.

“I’m fine. You’re up early.”

“Yes, the sun coming through the blinds is so bright in the morning.”

A beat of silence ensued. “I’m not sure whether to laugh or tell you what a horrible joke that is.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as both sipped their coffee. He heard her blow on the hot liquid, and the small gulp as it slid down her throat.

“Ella, may I ask you a question?”

“I guess so. And by the way, I’ve decided that was just a really bad joke.”

“What do you look like?”

The quiet of the house took on a different feeling, and stress and strain oozed into the room.

“Why do you want to know?” she snapped.

“I like to imagine what the people I talk to look like. Apparently, I’ve hit a raw nerve.”

“Before I tell you anything, I want to know how you knew I watched you last night. How did you know I was still in the room?”

He inhaled deeply as he thought about answering her. “Is that a lotion you wear, or is it your natural scent?”

“What?”

“I was just wondering if—”

“You wonder whatever you want, but these questions are getting a little intrusive.”

“My apologies,” he said, meaning it. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

The silence returned as the stress dissipated.

“So, are you going to tell me?” she asked.

“Tell you how I knew you were watching me?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Do you remember what I said last night?”

“Yes. You said that sharing your secrets with me was as likely to happen as us jumping into bed and fucking each other senseless, is the way I believe you put it.”

He chuckled, amused by her bluntness, Had he offended her, though? “My apologies for being so crude last night. I was very tired.”

“No apologies necessary. I appreciate the honesty.”

They sat quietly for a few moments. Thankfully, the tension in the room had evaporated.

“So, are you going to tell me about your abilities?” she asked.

He sighed. If Joe trusted her, there shouldn’t be any cause for him not to. What would it hurt if she knew, anyway? He couldn’t think of any reason not to tell her, and maybe, if he shared a little bit of himself with her, perhaps it would continue to thaw her. “I suppose so.”

“What are they?”

The leather creaked as she moved. Did she sit forward in anticipation of what he had to say, or had sat back in the couch, relaxed, an expectant look on her face?

“As you know, I’m completely blind.”

“Totally?”

“One hundred percent. I live in utter darkness. Not even a shadow crosses my vision.”

“Wow. You weren’t born like that, though, because last night, you said something about an explosion.”

“No. Before the explosion, my vision was twenty-twenty.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, her voice soft.

He’d never heard the tone from her before, and it indicated she wasn’t as hard and rude as she’d first been. Perhaps he’d been right, and her behavior had been a coping mechanism?

“Please, Ella. I hate pity. It happened, and there’s nothing that can be done about it. No one needs to be sorry about anything. Well, except maybe the people responsible for the explosion. They’ll be very sorry if I ever get my hands on them.”

She remained quiet for a moment. “I hear the anger in your voice about the situation. Yet, you say that I should just ignore what’s happened to you. You’re contradicting yourself.”

He sipped his coffee. Oh, she seemed to be turning into quite a mental foe. She had him pegged. “Touché, Ella. Touché. “

“And what are your abilities?”

He wondered if she smiled, happy she’d read him right. He didn’t hear it in her voice, so he guessed not.