Poughkeepsie (27 page)

“Take my brother and get our group out.” Merkin looked puzzled, but he would never question Beckett.

Beckett left the door unlocked for the police.
No use making it hard
. Beckett Taylor gift-wrapped at a murder scene should make them cum in their pants.

Beckett hung his head and clasped his hands in front of his body. As he waited for the biggest punch of his life, the door creaked open.

“Do you have to kill people every time you take a piss?” Eve locked the men’s room door behind her.

God, he loved looking at her. Even with her hair tucked in a baseball hat she was breathtaking.

“No, they killed themselves after I unleashed my colossal penis. It happens everywhere I go.” Beckett smiled as she assessed the damage.

“What happened?” Eve felt for a pulse on the dead man.

Beckett told her without thinking twice. He trusted her implicitly. “Cole caught these two bastards trying to rape Fairy Princess.”

Emotion flashed in her eyes.
Hate.

“The cops are already here. Right about now…” She paused as they heard a ruckus outside and the music faded to silent. “All the douchebags are starting fights the police will have to break up. Do you trust me, Beckett?”

Beckett had never heard Eve use his first name before. It made him long for a home, a blanket, and her pussy all at once.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Eve moved to the dispenser that emitted rough, brown paper towels. She used one to withdraw a knife from her ankle holster. Beckett made no move to stop her as she walked toward him. She ran a hand through his hair, took the knife, and cut his scalp. She smiled as blood dripped onto his face.

“Fucking ouch.” Beckett waited to see what she’d do next. Would this be the time she killed him?

She counted his ribs with her fingertips and found her favorite spot. She slid the knife in sideways and pulled it out. Beckett could only wheeze in response, feeling like all the air was instantly gone from his lungs. She yanked the gold chain off his neck and took the ring off his finger, ripping a good chunk of skin with it. Beckett put it together when she planted the jewelry on the dead man and carefully slid the knife out of its paper towel and into the grip of the corpse.

Fingerprints. Tricky bitch. She just made that dead fool my attacker.

He didn’t complain when Eve hit him with a few precisely placed punches. She slid him down the wall and set him on the floor.

She arranged his legs and arms to her liking and whispered in his ear. “This was self-defense. You’re unarmed. He wanted your gold. I’ll call your lawyer.” She put her hat on his head.

“What about the witness?” Beckett wheezed.

“There is no witness.” Eve leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Beckett’s lips.

Our first fucking kiss
.

Eve easily lifted the soon-to-be-ex witness. Apparently, he was not as bad off as he’d seemed because he was able to stand. Eve pulled another knife from around her ankle and inserted it into the fucker’s lower back, essentially making the knife a handle to the man’s kidney. She could steer him like a horse with a bridle. Eve commanded her hostage to open the door and look calm. She didn’t turn around again, but Beckett knew what she’d done. She’d crossed some line she’d drawn for herself. She’d said his name, kissed him, and saved him.

She’d done what he couldn’t do for himself.

19

Aftermath

L
IVIA
D
UG
H
ER
K
EYS
out of her purse as Blake and Mouse hustled Kyle to the fire door. As they burst through, Livia braced herself for an alarm, but it remained silent. Four of Beckett’s crew parted to allow them to exit, nodding at Mouse and Blake. They skirted the outside of the parking lot to find Livia’s car, then stuffed Kyle in the backseat with Blake and Mouse on either side while Livia drove them home. As they pulled away, the night was on fire with red and blue lights. Halfway there, Kyle started throwing up. Blake handed her a plastic grocery bag he found on the floorboards to save Livia’s upholstery. Livia pulled into the driveway but wondered aloud whether they should take Kyle straight to the hospital.

“I’ve been worse than this before,” Kyle assured them between heaves.

Mouse helped Blake get Kyle upstairs, but returned immediately to the front porch. “I’ll keep an eye on things,” he explained. “I’m supposed to stay. One of the guys will bring a car for me. Can I have Cole’s shirt back though? I’ll need to burn it.”

Livia nodded as the weird night got weirder.

Now that Kyle had returned to familiar territory, she lost some of her fight. She allowed Livia to put her in soft clothes, and Blake disappeared with Cole’s shirt. Kyle collapsed in bed as Livia tucked her in.

Livia stepped into the hallway as Blake came back up the stairs. “I guess I’ll stay in here to make sure she’s doing all right,” Livia said. “Kyle might decide she wants to talk, or worst case, she might choke on her own vomit.”

Blake nodded and loosened his tie. “I’ll keep you company if you’d like.”

“I would like.” Livia was thrilled he would stay, even without the promise of being alone in her bedroom.

Livia scooted past him to change into sweats. She selfishly didn’t offer Blake any new clothes because he looked so magnificent in the loose tie and black pants. She came back to find him sitting on Kyle’s floor with his back against the wall. She slid down to sit next to him, their legs touching.

“Blake, what do you think happened in there tonight?”

“I think Cole walked in on someone trying to hurt Kyle, and he handled it.” Blake shrugged.

“Handled it?” Livia couldn’t imagine how a would-be priest wound up covered in so much blood.

“Cole has a background that required him to fight like an animal,” Blake said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “His dedication to the Church comes partly from what he endured as a child.”

They sat holding hands in silence for a long time after that. Periodically Blake would peek over at her and smile.

Livia felt bold in the darkness of Kyle’s room. “Blake, do you remember the first day your skin was like glass in the sun?”

Blake was quiet for what seemed like an endless expanse of time.

“I remember.” He sighed.

Livia waited. He would tell her if he could. She would listen.

“You already know my mother was an alcoholic. She would get so frustrated with herself for failing me, but then she would take it out on me. Physically. When I was older, no matter which new housing program we were enrolled in—we always had to change and move—I was fortunate enough to be within walking distance of the Poughkeepsie library. I sort of used it as self-imposed daycare. I’d stop in after school and stay as late as it was open. In the summers, I spent my whole day there. The volunteers and the librarian did much more than organize the stacks.” Cole stroked Livia’s hand in his. “It was the center of the community, and those volunteers saw my need to learn and be mothered. They took it upon themselves to teach me, help me with homework, and give me lessons on the piano in the basement. I was like a stray cat with a dozen houses to call my own.”

A smile crossed Blake’s face at the memory. “Those ladies shaped me and ingrained my manners deeply,” he continued. “Miss Joan would always say, ‘Manners are everything, Blake. They’re worth more than money.’ But at home, my mother was getting worse. I was getting bigger, and I think that frightened her. She began increasing her episodes with me until there were times I couldn’t go to the library because I didn’t want them to see how I looked with bruises and think less of me.”

Livia touched Blake’s face, placing a soft kiss on his lips before he continued.

“When I was twelve, I made the worst mistake of my life. I didn’t use my manners. I didn’t respect my mother. The day my skin became glass, she used something other than her hands on me for the first time. She picked up my belt. She scared me. I was afraid to be hit with the belt. The metal buckle was headed straight for me.” Blake rubbed his eyes against the memory.

“I punched her right in the face, Livia. My own mother. She was furious and hurt. I let her use the belt after I realized my mistake. She backed me into our coffee table and I tripped. I fell into the glass liquor cabinet that was her pride and joy. The glass shattered around me, and all the liquor bottles broke. Bits and shards embedded in my skin.” He touched his forearm as if the glass was still there.

“My mother called the cops and demanded they remove me from the house. I was never sure if she had me removed because she was scared of me or mad that all her alcohol was in puddles mixed with glass and my blood. When the police and paramedics brought me into the sunlight, I saw. I saw the glass in my skin. The sun reveals what I really am, Livia. I hit a
woman
. My own mother. The glass and liquor seeped in, and I can’t get it out.”

Livia stayed silent and tried to quiet the screaming in her head.
Fuck your mother, Blake! She was a drunk and a coward. You were a child, not a man, and you were only trying to end your own pain.
She held tight to Dr. Lavender’s advice.
Listen.
This was Blake’s plane crash. Livia’s silence invited him to continue.

“Social Services picked me up from the police station,” he finally said. “The gentleman gave me a cardboard box with a few of my things in it, and he told me my mother had relinquished all her rights. My foster home was nowhere near the library, so my family there was lost as well. I couldn’t have gone back in there anyway. They’d have known my mother gave me up and I hadn’t been a gentleman.

“
My
manners were not impeccable,” Blake added, his voice bitter now. “
My
manners were not worth more than money. I was medicated for my violent tendencies and spent a great deal of time either in a haze or totally numb, but I tried to uphold my library family’s high expectations. A few years later the two little girls in the minivan paid the ultimate price for my cowardice.” He took his hand out of hers and put it in his lap. “Now you know, Livia. All that I’m not.”

So many people had tried for Blake, but so many had failed.
All it takes is one to be the glue. It’s going to be me.
Livia moved quietly to straddle him. She put her hands on his scruffy cheeks. “I know all that you are. You almost don’t belong here, your soul’s so pure.” Livia put a hand on his chest. “You’re perfect to me. You’re chivalrous to me. I adore your manners. You
can’t
disappoint me. It’s not possible.” Livia leaned in and kissed him sweetly.
See? See how much I can fix?

Blake became absorbed by her hair, grabbing handfuls of it. He pulled her to his chest, combing it out with his fingers as he hummed a soothing song in her ear. The liquid velvet of his voice lifted her into dreams.

The flames reflected in Eve’s pupils matched her anger. She threw the rest of the gasoline on her private bonfire. The body of the witness produced almost-white flames and blinding heat.
I overdid it.

But Eve wanted something tangible. Something to blister her skin a bit, to match her soul.

She was allowing herself to think of her past, which was a rare indulgence. She needed to relive it because she’d strayed from her purpose. She’d disregarded her calling. Eve chipped away at her decayed insides to find the little tiny piece of pink that was her heart now. She closed her eyes and let the waves of heat send her back to the accident.

The summer sun had been searing that day. Eve twisted the air conditioner on immediately as David started his old beater.

“Sweetness, a car needs to warm up to cool down.” David chuckled as Eve blasted them both with fire-breathing dragon hot air instead of the instant relief she sought.

“That doesn’t even make sense. Besides, being too hot can’t be good for the baby.” Eve’s eyes twinkled. She tried to put the word baby in every sentence she could nowadays.