Bloodshade Read online

  “You’re killing people because they ruined your life,” I said, stepping towards him. “Why am I not allowed to do the same thing? I’m not killing. I’m finding the truth. They took—” I couldn’t get out the words but my uncle’s face flashed across my mind and I had to stop walking. I took a breath. “They ruined my life. Maybe not in the same way they ruined yours, but they took someone very important to me because he was digging into things that might prove one of his theories.”

  Jon pressed his lips together, glancing away from me and out the window. He looked ridiculous in his long, black trench coat, especially considering today was one of the few times that Perry had been sunny. But Jon was notorious for dressing in all black like Death himself, blending in with the night and disappearing during the day like shadows.

  “Why am I not allowed to get my revenge?” I continued. “Why do you get to dictate my choices?”

  He continued to look at me, his dark eyes curious. It almost seemed as though he wanted to ask more but he didn’t want to be the one to ask. I wasn’t ready to volunteer information, but I might, if he did ask.

  “I don’t,” he said. He shifted his eyes. “The man on your desk, that picture…” He was stating facts, not asking questions. He already knew.

  I cleared my throat. “My uncle.”

  “They took him?”

  I turned and headed back to the couch, shaking my head. “Dead,” she said. “He was looking into things he probably shouldn’t have been. He was just a guy, a charming one. It wasn’t like he was a cop or a journalist. He was just a construction worker doing some research on what happened to my grandfather.”

  “What do you mean?” His eyes sliced back over to me, like I said something interesting.

  “My grandfather was in the military,” I told him, taking a seat on the couch. Now that Jon was here, my body had shed its anxiety and could finally relax. My cross was just above my heart, cool and soothing. “Army, I think. He stopped writing my grandmother under mysterious circumstances. A year later, they came by to tell her he died serving his country. Got a Purple Heart and everything. But she didn’t believe it and neither did my uncle. So he started looking into what happened. I can’t prove it—not yet—but Guzman’s uncle was also in the military, assigned to the same unit my grandfather was.”

  “You don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Jon stated.

  “I don’t believe in those.” Without thinking, I started fiddling with the cross.

  My action caught Jon’s gaze.

  “Catholic?” he asked.

  “Presbyterian,” I said.

  A nod.

  “You?” I pushed.

  “Catholic,” he murmured. “A non-believing Catholic.”

  I let out a sigh. Now wasn’t the time to talk about God.

  “You think someone in Guzman’s camp killed your uncle,” Jon said.

  I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what to think,” I told him. “But I’m trying to figure that out. I don’t know if my grandfather and her uncle just happened to be in the same platoon. Or if something happened, something nefarious. But I do think the mayor is behind it. My uncle had been working construction his entire life. He doesn’t mysteriously slip and fall off the new hotel downtown the city contracted.”

  I felt my blood start to boil just thinking about it. I dropped my hand to my thigh and looked outside. Clouds started accumulating in the night sky—dark, gray clouds. Rain was coming. Storm, even.

  “Anyway.” I cleared my throat again and turned back to Jon, who still had yet to take his eyes off of me. “That’s why I do what I do. Because I think my uncle was pushed. And I can’t prove it yet, but I will. And I will prove that Guzman’s family had something to do with my grandfather’s disappearance.”

  “You don’t think he’s dead?” he asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” I replied. “I just want to figure it out. For my uncle’s sake. For my own. Maybe that way, everything will calm down and maybe go back to the way things were.”

  “It will never be the same.” He looked back down at the folder. “You got coffee?”

  I stood. “Do you want me to make you some?” I asked. “I try not to drink it because it gives me the worst headaches.”

  “No.” The scrape of Jon’s chair as he stood up made me stop. “I can make it. Just tell me where you keep the stuff. You don’t have to do anything for me.”

  “Jon…”

  His name on my lips caused both of us to pause and stare. There it was, something hanging between us. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it was like a magnet pulling us together.

  I blinked, shaking my head and gently sidestepping around him so I could make my way into the kitchen. I needed to focus, and not on the flecks of charcoal in his dark eyes.

  “Like I told you before,” I murmured, going to my cabinet and opening the door. I had to stand on the balls of my feet to grab the coffee and set it on the counter. “I’m here to help you in any way you can.”

  I turned on the sink faucet before taking two spoonfuls of coffee and dumping it into a Grumpy mug I picked up at Disneyland last year. I took the cup and filled up the cup almost all the way before putting the mug into the microwave. After setting the time, I turned to find Jon staring at me, his brows pushed together in what looked like horror.

  “What kind of monster are you?” he asked. “Who makes coffee like this?”

  I laughed. It sounded much louder than laughter should sound right now. It echoed off my small kitchen walls and I turned. I suddenly felt shy but I couldn’t explain myself.

  “I don’t want to have good coffee in my house,” I told him. The microwave interrupted with a chirp. “If I did, I would drink it all the time.”

  He raised his brows and nodded his head, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

  “Milk or sugar?” I asked, looking over at him.

  He had yet to go through the folder once more. Instead, his eyes were on me, filled with questions. More than that, it almost seemed as though he wasn’t used to this, being taken care of. My thoughts flashed to Yvonne and I sneered to myself. I had never met the bitch but I wouldn’t hesitate to pop her in the face. Not that I knew how to punch. I made a mental note to sign up for self-defense.

  “I assume no cream?” he asked.

  I looked over my shoulder and gave him a look. I grabbed a spoon and slowly began to stir the liquid in the cup, the clang of the metal on glass the only noise in the room.

  “I’ll take it with sugar,” he said. “Three spoonfuls.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a sweet tooth,” I said as I grabbed three sugar packets and poured the contents in. The grains dissolved into the dark liquid. I continued to stir the contents together.

  When I finished, I handed Jon the cup and watched as he put his mouth to the mug and took a sip. His nose wrinkled but he still managed to keep everything down and swallowed it into a large lump.

  “Well, that was…” He looked away. “Different.”

  “The blood,” I said, deciding now would be the perfect time to ask for a subject change. “What happened, Jon? It’s not a full moon. I don’t know of anyone else you need to take action on.” I furrowed my brow. “You said there was more to this. What have you found out?”

  He took another long drink of his coffee before setting the Grumpy mug on my table.

  “You know I can shift when I think about it,” he said. “I don’t need a full moon.”

  “I wasn’t sure if it was different since you weren’t bitten or transformed,” I murmured, glancing down at my hands as I leaned my side against the refrigerator.

  “I don’t really know and I don’t care to.”

  I huffed out a sigh. I knew Jon was bitter about what he was. I couldn’t blame him and I definitely did not feel it was my place to tell him how to feel. But I hated that he hated himself. I wished I could make him realize how amazing he really was.

  “I need a favor,” Jon got out
, his voice strained.

  I shifted my eyes, looking at him curiously.

  “I need my dog tags.” He turned in his chair so he could lock eyes with me. “There’s a special code on them. I had it memorized but I need the actual tags.”

  I opened my mouth to ask what his plan was but I stopped myself. I knew he wouldn’t tell me. Not yet, anyway.

  “Where can I find them?”

  He shifted his eyes. The pause told me enough. I wasn’t going to like his answer.

  “As far as I know,” he said, “Yvonne still has them.”

  I wanted to say no because fuck that bitch.

  But this was for Jon. This was Jon asking me for a favor. This was Jon actually involving me in helping him. And if it meant having to talk to that bitch in person, so be it.

  I bristled but I didn’t immediately deny it. He cracked a smile.

  “Thanks for holding back whatever insults were going to come out of those lips,” he said, staring up at me from the kitchen table.

  I scoffed and headed over to my balcony. My eyes took in the dark, looming clouds overhead. One fat drop of water hit my window and then another one, and then another. I thought about going to grab the sunflowers and saving them but I hesitated. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but something made me stop. I watched with awed fascination as the drops continued to fall, as they filled up the pot of flowers and started trying to push the flowers down. Due to their thick stems, they persisted, reaching up, as though they were still going to reach for the sun, despite the impossibility of succeeding.

  I blinked and stepped out, grabbing the pot and bringing it in. I got a little wet but not much, and stepped over to the kitchen and dropped the plant in front of Jon.

  “You have a place to stay tonight?” I asked him.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Why do I think you’re lying?” I asked.

  “Because you’re a reporter,” Jon said. “Everyone lies to you.”

  “Even you?”

  The question lingered between us. His gaze followed me as I walked back into the living room. I couldn’t seem to sit still. Being around Jon caused nervous energy to bubble inside of me and pacing around my house was the only way to calm it down.

  “I’ve never lied to you,” he said. I could hear how careful his words were chosen. I knew he had never lied to me but I wondered if he was still planning to keep his squeaky clean track record. “I won’t lie to you, even if I think it’s good for you.”

  “But,” I said. “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

  “I’m not going to tell you anything,” he finished. “You might not like it, but it’s all I can do to keep you safe.”

  I stood from the couch. The rain fell hard enough to start tapping on my balcony window. My eyes shot to the sunflowers, standing proud and strong, even now that they were inside, away from the elements.

  “Who are you to decide something like that?” I asked. I wanted to say it with a strong voice. I wanted him to know how goddamn frustrated I was with him. But it came out like a hiss, a little louder than the softest whisper. Even as I started pacing once again, I couldn’t find it in me to raise my voice louder than it already was. “You don’t get to decide that!”

  “Your uncle died looking for answers,” Jon said. He slowly stood to his full height but he would not intimidate me. I wouldn’t let him make me feel that way. “You wanna end up the same way he did?”

  “And what about you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. “You think what you’re doing is any different than what I’m doing? The only difference is, your weapon is your teeth, your claws, your…demon. My weapon is my words.”

  “Unlike me,” Jon insisted, “your weapon is going to get you killed. Mine, on the other hand, is going to help me protect myself.” He took a step towards me. “Lara, don’t get swept away. You’re in over your head. This whole thing with Guzman…” He let out a gutter a sigh. “You’re going to get killed, Lara. And I’m going to have to do a lot more killing.”

  “You don’t need to avenge my death, Jon,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “No one asked you to do that.” I ran my fingers through my hair and turned my back on him. It felt like the space between us was becoming too narrow and I couldn’t be close to him. His presence was overwhelming and this was not the time when I wanted to analyze why that was. “You know, I don’t understand you. You want me to find a name for you. You want me to get your dog tags. And then you tell me I’m in over my head with Guzman. I don’t know what you want for me. Why do you get to decide what’s good for me and what isn’t? It’s black or white.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  He was right, I didn’t, but I didn’t need him to know that. I walked away from him. I couldn’t sit still. It was embarrassing.

  “You’re right.”

  My eyes shot over to him. I watched as he slowly padded to the coffee table and raked his eyes back over the Manila folder.

  “I shouldn’t have asked you to risk yourself for this bitch.”

  I opened my mouth and hesitated before I pushed through.

  “It wasn’t a risk,” I told him. He caught my eye and I nodded at the folder. “I know someone who can get stuff like that in hours. It’s, it’s fine.”

  I leaned back against my front door and glanced away. I felt exhausted but I couldn’t sit. Yet every time I relaxed, I felt my body get heavy, like I couldn’t hold myself up.

  “It’s not fine, Lara, it’s—” He cut himself off. He grabbed the back of the chair and put his weight on it. “I shouldn’t ask you to do these things for me. You’re the only person I’ve got.” His dark eyes flashed into mine. They burned and even though I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. It was too intense, too strong. I clenched my jaw to keep it from trembling. “You’re the only person I’ve got. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  I bit my lip and nodded my head. I didn’t know what to say, exactly. My eyes held his, however. I hoped that would be enough.

  “Promise me, Lara,” he said, his voice throaty.

  “So I can do what you ask me to do but you won’t let me do what I want to do?” I shook my head. “Do you realize what a goddamn hypocrite you are?”

  “I’ve been called a lot of shit in my life,” Jon said. He cracked a grin and I felt myself melt. Just seeing him smile made me feel…I didn’t know what, but I felt myself soften. “I hate that I even have to ask you, Lara, can’t you see that? Do you think I want to involve you in this?”

  I noticed him twitch. He flexed and curled his long fingers, trying to shake something off. He wanted to hide it from me, though. That much was clear to me.

  “This will be the last thing I ask you,” he said, his voice low and cryptic. His eyes were on my carpeted floor, on the bloodstain on my carpet. “I don’t want to put you at risk but I can’t do—”

  “You can’t do it alone,” I finished. I nodded and curled my hair behind my hair. “I get it.”

  “Don’t you think I hate myself, even having to ask?” He took another step towards me but held himself back. I didn’t move away this time. It wasn’t exactly an invitation to my personal space, but I wasn’t going to run away from him either. “I know how you feel about Yvonne.”

  Honestly, that name was nails on a chalkboard to me, but I wasn’t going to be that honest with him.

  “Why do you need these tags anyway?” I asked, looking back at him. My feet were starting to hurt but I couldn’t sit still.

  “The code,” he explained, his voice gruff. He shifted his weight and then reached for the coffee. He took a drink and I could tell by the wrinkle in his nose that it had gone cold. “I need them. It’s my only way to enter a restricted building.”

  I nodded my head. “There’s a facility here?” I asked. “In Perry?”

  He nodded once. “Don’t concern yourself, Lara,” he said. “You already have a target on your back with your involvement in the Guzman thing. Your
article about me only added to that. I’m no good for you, Lara.”

  “You’re not the monster everyone is making you out to be,” I said, my voice more earnest than I expected it to be. I cleared my throat, hoping to settle myself down. “Jon, what do you know? What’s going on?”

  Jon stepped towards me, a snarl on his face. “Lara, I slit the throat of the director of Operation Bloodshade with my claws. I bit into his stomach and had his intestines in my teeth. I am a monster.”

  He clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw popped. “You remember what happened when you found me? I was so goddamn hungry, I was eating out of the dumpster behind this building. You thought I was some kind of fucking dog and took me in.”

  I felt my breathing hitch. It was difficult to breathe. I tried not to think about when we first met.

  “I scared the shit out of you when I growled at you,” he continued. “I didn’t want your kindness. I didn’t want anything you had to offer. But you’re so goddamn stupid, you stayed. You stayed because you wanted to make sure I calmed down.”

  “Because even then you weren’t a monster,” I whispered. “You’re not a monster, Jon Hawkins. But when you go out there…” I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to be reminded of that night, only because I felt so stupid. I wanted to save him. I thought I could. But I learned the hard way that saving Jon Hawkins was impossible because he doesn’t want to be saved. “I can’t tell you what to feel. If you think this is important, getting your revenge, killing everyone associated with—”

  “They’re going to do it again.”

  The words were abrupt, like pouring cold water over a sleeping child. It slapped me in the face. I dropped my arms to my side, fixing my eyes on him.

  “What?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I actually heard him correctly. “Did you say they’re planning on doing it again?”

  Jon said nothing but caught my eye. That was enough. I wasn’t an expert on reading him quite yet but I was getting better. Because he was letting me get better at reading him.