Marked. Part I: The missing Link (32 page)

“Thank you,” I tell her with moistened eyes, not letting go. “I think I'm in love with him.”

“
Sweetie,” she giggles, “you so totally are.”

We both laugh as we let go.

“I really wanted to hate you when I first saw you waiting at the table,” she admits, looking guilty, “but I can't. It's not because of the way Jay is with you and how much I care about him and want only the best for him, but because I like talking with you. I've never had girlfriends before. I've never stayed in one place long enough, and the girls I do meet always think I'm going to try and steal their men away from them. I never touch a man who's spoken for; I have morals,” she laughs before quickly adding, “on some things.”

I give her just as guilty a look, “I hated you, too. In fact, I plotted your death a few times.”

This surprisingly earns a smile, “Good. Can we call it even?”

I extend my hand, “Deal.”

Instead of accepting it she pulls me in for another hug.

“
I think I know why he won't tell you about Mark,” she whispers in my ear, “It scares him. He lost the only two people he ever loved because of him, and he blames himself for their deaths. I think he's afraid of losing you too.”

“
What's the big deal with this guy?” I whisper back in her ear while we continue to hug.

“
He's a contract killer. He kills the people nobody will go after. He's also twisted in the head, and likes to play games to fuck with people.”

We separate and I search her eyes, hoping she will answer my next question with honesty, “Will going after him get Jay killed?” I swallow into my dry throat.

She gives me a weak half-smile, “I hope not, but Mark always seems to be one step ahead of everything.”

We hear the bedroom door open and Jay stands there with his hands on his hips, looking tired and worn, “If we're going to do this, you need to brief her on what housekeeping does when they come and clean, and anything else vital for her to pull this off.”

Chapter 31

8:16pm

I finish wiping my face from washing the day away. I can't help but observe Jay and take him in. Tomorrow he'll have the file to give to Vault, and in return he'll get the dagger he needs to send me home. I'll have to let him go all over again.

My chest caves in. I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to say goodbye again (not like I did it all that well the first time around). How do I learn to let go and not have it crush me? I'm not sure that I can.

I need him, if only for tonight. Not sexually; I just need to feel him one last time.

I go to the side of his bed where he is watching the news and crawl on top of him, placing a bent leg on both sides. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and bury my face in it's crevice. I breathe in his scent and relish in the warmth of his body. His arms safely tuck me in and a hand starts stroking my hair, the other securely embracing me. I breathe more of him in and soak in every memory I have of him, praying I never forget a second of it.

“I love you,” I exhale, needing to get the words out, wanting him to know before I don't have the chance to say it.

His lips move against my temple and it makes me tighten my hold around his neck, “If you're worried about tomorrow, don't be. You don't have to do it. I'll find another way. I would
prefer
to have to find another way.”

“
That's not what this is about. After tomorrow this will all be over and I'll never see you again. Last time I didn't get to say goodbye, or tell you how I'd never forget my time with you. I love you, Jay. I wanted to tell you. I know it's only one-sided, but I still needed you to know.” I fight the tears that are blurring my vision and cling even tighter to him.

Jay clutches me tighter as well, and the hand stroking my hair knots itself with the strands, pressing my face firmly to him.

“I want to tell you a story about a six year old boy named Noah Baxter,” Jay inhales deeply before letting it all out in one big whoosh across my temple, ruffling my hair, giving me the tingles I will miss, “He had a beautiful mom, with long blond hair he loved to touch because of it's softness, and the way it glowed like an angel's. She had a sweet, soft voice that never yelled, only soothed. She called him her “perfect boy” even when he made mistakes or lashed out. This boy loved her macaroni and cheese, and even as a grown man can remember the taste in his mouth.

“
One day, the boy and his mom were coloring in the living room when cries of terror came from outside. His mom rushed to the window and peeked out. The horror on her face frightened the boy. He became scared when she yelled at him to go to his secret spot in the back of her closet. His mother never yelled at him and he stayed rooted in shock. When she yelled a second time he obeyed and went to the small, snug compartment his dad made him inside the closet wall and locked himself in. He curled up into a ball, and as he waited for his mom to come get him he trembled and cried, wishing he had grabbed his teddy to hold on to.

“
In the distance he heard his mom cry out. It was a terrified cry. The boy had once promised his dad he wouldn't leave his hideout until his mom or dad got him, but he couldn't let his mom be scared and alone. He got out of his secret spot and went to the kitchen where he heard movement,” Jay stops to take in a shaky breath. His arms are compressing my head against him and all I can see are his bicep and chest. “He found a man, a bad man. He knew he was because this man scared him more than the villains in his cartoons. The man wasn't as tall as his dad, and where his dad was big, this man's muscles were long and lanky. His skin was as pale as a ghost's. His thin blond hair just as light, coming a little past his ears in waves. He wore black, round spectacles that burrowed into his eye sockets. His lips reminded the boy of when he had cherry popsicles and his lips turned red, but on this man the red lips terrified him. He wore all black, and his tank top made visible a tattoo that snaked around his neck and down his shoulders; it was the heads of dragons. The boy would later learn this tattoo started on his back as the body of a three headed dragon.

“
That's what the boy saw as he took in the man who had his mom. She was crying and trembling. He had a hand to her throat. The boy froze in fear, because on that hand he had a leather band that wrapped around his wrist and three straps that came up his three middle fingers like a glove. At the tips, over his nails, were three gold claws. They looked sharp; sharper than the knives his daddy kept in the drawer he wasn't allowed to go in.

“
He believed what happened next could have been prevented if only he had been braver. It wouldn't be until almost a decade later that he realized it was a blessing he couldn't call out to his mom and let her know he was there. It would have caused her more pain to know her son had seen the way she died. A six year old could never have prevented that man from taking those three claws and digging them along his mother's throat, blooding pouring out all over her.

“
The mean man dropped her to the ground, limp like a rag doll. It was then that the mean man noticed the little boy, and it was then that fear left the boy and rage took over. The boy was fast – always had been. He went into the drawer he wasn't allowed, grabbed a knife, and attacked the evil man who hurt his mom. But he was six, and this man was taller and stronger; he was easily able to grab hold of the boy. The boy still thought he had a chance, and sunk the blade of his knife into the man's stomach. The evil man looked shocked, and then his mouth curled up into a smile, dark and twisted, and it scared the boy to the extent he wet himself. The evil man grabbed the knife and threw it. He pointed a clawed finger at the boy and dragged it along the boy's right temple. The boy cried out for his mommy because this was pain like he had never felt before. The evil man gave him another sinister smile and told him, “You have been marked,” then knocked the boy unconscious.

“
When he woke he scurried to his mom, whose blood was now all over the kitchen floor in one big thick puddle. The boy remembered his mom teaching him to call nine-one-one if anything bad ever happened. He used the phone his mom had left on the kitchen table, and when the police answered he cried into the phone that some evil man hurt his momma and she won't answer when he calls her name. He was able to tell the man on the phone where he lived. He felt proud when they told him what a brave boy he was and how impressive it was that he could remember his address.

“
He went back to his mom. Her eyes were open, and he didn't understand why she wasn't moving or why she wouldn't talk to him. The boy hugged his mom, crying, begging her to answer him. He remembered his promise to his dad to call him day or night if he needed him and he would be there. The boy got the phone again, his hands covered in his mom's blood that hid the numbers as he tried to dial. His dad picked up on the first ring. The boy tried to tell his dad but his head hurt too much, it felt like it was splitting in half and everything started to get fuzzy looking. The boy managed out a soft “dad” before passing out.

“
The next thing he remembers is waking up in an ambulance, and then fragments of him crying for his mom and getting stitches on his temple. The police asked him questions, but the boy refused to answer until his mommy could be there. When they told him his mom was gone, the boy thought she must be with his dad – his mommy loved his dad, she was always her most happiest when he was home. He still refused to talk, saying he'll wait for them, and didn't say any more, not even when they asked him what his name was or if he had any other family.

“
That night he had to sleep in the hospital, which was really scary, and he missed his mom and didn't understand why she still hadn't come for him.

“
Some time during the night his dad came, picked the boy up, and left. The boy's dad finally made him understand his mom was dead. He cried for a long time, and when he finally stopped, he never cried again. Over the years his sadness turned ugly and dark, becoming an all-consuming hatred for the man who killed his mom.

“
His dad was always having them travel, but would never tell him why or what he did. He would leave his son alone for hours and hours at a time in their hotel room.

“
One day the boy – now eight – decided to follow him and watched his father go to a man's huge mansion. On this particular day the man was sitting under a maple tree in his backyard. He watched his father pull out a gun and shoot the three other men standing close by in the head before shooting the man under the tree. The boy remained hiding behind a bush after he watched his father leave, not understanding why his dad would do such a thing. He eventually decided to go back to their hotel, hoping his father would have a good explanation. He found his dad pacing the room. When he saw the boy he collapsed to his knees and pulled the boy into his arms – the only hug they ever shared and the first human contact the boy had had since his mother's death – but he didn't like being held and pushed away. It wouldn’t be until he was a grown man that he sought comfort from the arms of another, a woman, with a smile that made him come alive,” Jay pauses and I wipe the tears from my face that have now drenched his shirt and mine.

“
That was the day Noah Baxter became Jay Lincoln, and the day his father told him what he did: he killed people for money. The boy wanted to know who he had killed and his father told him it was men with power and money, usually bad men. That's when the boy found out his father was the reason his mother died. His father was one of the best contract killers you could hire. He had started to refuse jobs, trying to get away from that life because he wanted to be with the woman he loved and their child he loved just as deeply. One man he had continually worked for didn't take it so well when he informed him he was done. The man hired Kolme Dragoni, also known as The Marker, to kill the boy's mother, knowing he was the only man who would do it. His father had too many colleagues that respected him and wouldn't cross that line.

“
Hiring Dragoni comes at a cost. He has an obsession with the number three. When he makes a kill he must kill three people within three minutes of each other, ending with the person he was hired to kill. It's a guarantee your target will die, but the other two are his choices. They could be good, bad, men, women, children, it does not matter to him; he must kill in threes. It's also done when ever and how ever he chooses. After he has made his three killings he will not kill more. It is in that time one may try to kill him. They all fail. He's too smart, too calculating. It's all a big game to him. After you fail to kill him he leaves a mark on your face: the first one on the temple, the second on the start of the brow, and final down the middle of the eye. The third mark is the final mark. This lets him know how many times they have come after him, how many chances they get to try and kill him before he kills them. He wants people to come find him; he gets off on it. Most stop at their first mark, similar to the boy's story they attacked out of hurt and anger, but there are the rare few who want their revenge and they join his sick game, trying to kill him, thinking they will eventually outsmart him.

“
That was the moment the boy's life changed; he wanted revenge on Dragoni. It would become his obsession, what fueled everything he did in his life. His father sensed his determination and strong will because it was a trait that resounded in himself. He promised to help his son and train him to be a lethal killer. The boy had no interest in becoming his father, but he wanted to learn all he could so one day he could take down The Marker. The boy went with his father on all his jobs to see him in action, to learn from him, and assist him when needed.”

Jay paused again and took in deep breaths, stroking my hair. My mind has become dizzy trying to absorb and process all that he's telling me.

“Why did he change his name to Jay Lincoln?” The words came out throaty and constricted from the intensity of this moment, from hearing Jay's story and the fact that he's finally opening up to me.

“
The day he became Jay Lincoln, his father told him nobody knew Noah Baxter existed but his mom and him. If he was going to enter this life he must choose a new name. The boy wanted to be called Jalena after his mother, but his father convinced him that when he was older he wouldn't want a girl's name. He suggested the name Jay and for the last name they went with his father's.”

My heart's breaking for the little boy in this story who holds me in his arms. I didn't know I could feel this much pain from hearing about the heartache of another, but then I have never loved someone the way I love Jay; I didn't know love this deep existed. His pain is my pain.

“When he was fifteen,” Jay takes another deep inhale as he continues his story, “the boy considered it fate when a job he and his father had been given happened to put him in the same path as Dragoni.

“
His father was following his mark, learning his routine, finding the best time to make his move. The boy was bored of following his dad around so he had him rent a car – the boy had been driving since he was tall enough to reach the pedals. He drove along the coast, going wherever he felt the urge to drive. Eventually, he stopped at a place for lunch. As luck would have it, on the other side of the restaurant sat Dragoni, casually sipping his soup like he was just another average civilian.