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Demons.
I’d experienced them most of my life, monsters crawling through visions, not only in the dark when I was more vulnerable but when I’d least expected them. I’d been the kid who’d had his nose stuck in a book, dreaming of being a warrior in a faraway land or a cowboy hero lassoing the heroine at the last minute. I’d believed in monsters and spirits, even talking to them as if they were hiding underneath my bed. The five-year-old boy had convinced himself the unseen spirits were his best friends, able to protect him from the evils of the world.
My mother had told my father the make-believe creatures had kept me sane. I’d overheard one of their overheated conversations, my father demanding the books I cherished be destroyed. He’d even forced me to watch as he burned several in a bonfire, telling me he was exorcising the very demons I’d come to rely on.
It had been the single time I’d lashed out at my father, beating him on the backs of his legs with my fists, telling him I’d hate him for the rest of my life.
The harsh discipline I’d received for my egregious misbehavior had remained an ugly reminder that I had no real power in the family. I’d grown out of my fantasy world but had never forgiven him for destroying my childhood. At least that’s what I’d thought at the time. Only he hadn’t been the one.
A true monster had been the true predator, one so vile and evil that the real nightmares had begun when I was eight. There was no reason I was suddenly thinking about the life-changing moment, the one when I’d lost my innocence. I hadn’t drifted back to the horror of the dark night for a full decade, maybe more.
Why now?
Maybe because a tickling sensation had formed in the back of my mind, thoughts chipping away at any level of comfort I’d had recently. While there would always be enemies, most of them on the corporate level where deals were won and lost often with a shake of a hand, there were always some who preferred the same vicious methods my father had used.
I couldn’t shove aside the darkness that had formed the night before, a knowing that the calm period I’d enjoyed over the last few years was about to be shattered.
The nightmare I couldn’t remember but had felt the second I’d opened my eyes had added to my gut instinct. Then when she’d left the stateroom, I thought I’d go mad turning the place upside down.
I’d been forced to curtail my anger when I noticed her in the shower. She could never be allowed out of my protection.
Not now. Not ever.
She would be used against me, the evil returning.
Jesus Christ. I’d obviously been working too many long hours. No one would be stupid enough to try to enter my house, stealing my possessions now.
Unless they had a death wish.
The only reason I’d had the damn dream in the first place was because of the decision I’d made regarding Jade.
I could count on one hand those who knew of her existence, less who’d learned I had her in my possession. Then why was I finding it impossible to concentrate on such a beautiful morning?
Because my instinct told me a firestorm was brewing.
I glanced into the rearview mirror, double checking we hadn’t been followed. Drago’s early morning call had indicated he’d handled my order without issue, the buildings empty, no furniture inside even though the facilities had been placed under contract only two weeks prior. I couldn’t put it past the Grassos to make a purchase only to antagonize me and the rest of my family. They were known for their games, something I’d studied months before in preparation of their onslaught into Kansas.
As the dig in my side continued, I tapped on the steering wheel, shooting Jade a quick glance. She was more subdued than I thought she’d be, her concentration on everything and nothing just as surprising as her other moods. She wanted to continue hating me, protecting herself behind a thick shield, but the way we’d been together the night before had broken several barriers.
Even if I didn’t know what the hell that meant for us.
I returned my thoughts to the past, the discussions my father had with me after the night that changed everything. The intruder had arrived in the dead of night, destroying not only my childhood but the life of the only person I’d ever called my best friend. After the horrific incident, my father had tried to make me stronger, a force to be reckoned with. For a kid with a mind full of monsters and a heart full of rage, I’d barely paid any attention. It had been years later when I’d come to understand his method of tough love had been to try to protect me. And I’d remembered what he’d taught me when it had been imperative that I do.
The day one of the football captains had attempted to shank the mafia kid, as he’d called me. He’d learned a valuable lesson not to underestimate the scrawny dude in expensive clothing. That had been my first taste of blood, the violence filling some of the shadows left from the tragedy.
And I’d hungered for more.
I had no idea what had happened to the brawny kid after that, other than he’d remained in the hospital for several weeks while I’d been sent to a school for disturbed children. That’s where I’d gotten my real education and had grown five inches and gained seventy pounds in the year I’d been kept like a caged animal.
As the memories continued flowing in my mind, I rubbed my index finger across my lips, able to gather a whiff of her sweet juice on my skin. There had to be a reason I was remembering the past. I’d come back home a different kid, no longer enamored of using my imagination, preferring my fists.
My entire family had been shocked at the changes, but my mother had acted as if she’d lost her oldest son. It had surprised the hell out of me, until I’d taken a good look at myself in the mirror.
The light that I’d once held in my eyes was gone, replaced by the reflection of cold steel reminiscent of the switchblade I’d carried, the weapon never leaving my side. Smirking, I wondered what I’d done with it.
“Do you think we could get a cup of coffee on the way? I should have gotten some before leaving the boat, but I wasn’t thinking about it. Unless I’ve lost all my privileges.” Her defiance was tempered but it had returned. There was also something else in her voice that troubled me, a subtle change I hadn’t been able to decipher.
Her question was asked in such a quiet voice, I wasn’t entirely certain she’d spoken. “Of course. I’m not an ogre. We’ll grab some breakfast as well.” Although I wasn’t in the mood for food, eager to get back to Kansas City, she’d barely picked at her dinner. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad man after all.
