Page 20 of Traces of Her
“What the fuck is going on?” the man says loudly before spotting me on the chair. He’s a tad shorter than Jared, maybe six-foot, with the same dark hair and dark hardened eyes. His face is clean cut, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His stark white dress shirt and sleek black pants make him look expensive and out of place.
His eyes rake over me with a look I can’t read. When his eyes meet mine, I see everything I needed. His black eyes aren’t dead and empty. They’re cold, but they aren’t lifeless. There’s a light swirling in the dark.
He quietly walks over, kneeling in front of me. “What did he do to you?” he asks in a hushed voice, his eyes scan my face. He opens his mouth and closes it, in hesitation. “Did he do anything other than this?” his voice is quiet, but his eyes are harsh.
I close my eyes and shake my head. When I open them, I see a look of relief pass on his face. He reaches out, gingerly touching my face, “this needs ice before it gets too swollen.”
“Okay,” I whisper, wincing at his touch, but not from the pain. The touch of his fingertips burns into my skin, leaving his mark, his imprint.
“What’s your name?” he asks, brushing my hair away from my face. I wait for a snarky comment about my ghostly look, but I don’t get one.
“Rowena,” I tell him, telling him one of my secrets. One of the most important ones.
His eyes narrow for a second with a slight cock of his head before he regains composure. He slowly nods, leaning back onto his heels. “Where did Jared go?”
I shrug, shaking my head. “He went into the other room, but I don’t know how long ago that was,” I admit.
“Jesus, you’re finally fucking here,” Jared huffs from the doorway. “What did you ride in on, your fucking turtle?”
The man rises to his feet, turning to face Jared. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, slightly lifting his chin. “Would you like to tell me what the fuck is going on here?” he demands. “What’s with the girl?”
Jared waves his hand at him dismissively. “Come on, Griffin. The details aren’t important. I just need you to take her.”
Griffin looks back at me for a moment, raising an eyebrow and turns back to Jared. “I’m sorry… what?”
“You heard me,” Jared says, plopping down onto the couch. “Either you take her, or I get rid of her.”
I stare at both of them as they stare each other down. How in the hell did I end up here? My life is constantly in other people's hands except for my short time with Charlie. I wish Jared would have just killed me at Charlie’s. This other guy, Griffin, doesn’t seem that bad, but how would I know?
“Fine,” Griffin agrees. “She can come with me, but I need to know what’s going on here.”
“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Jared barks. “You wanna play charades or something after this?”
Griffin rolls his eyes. “Cut the shit,” he demands.
Jared lets out a deep, exaggerated breath. “Some shit went down, she was there and no witnesses, right?”
“You do realize I can’t just go around cleaning up your fucking messes all the time,” Griffin sighs at Jared. “The body?” he asks.
These people are nuts. Both of them.
“Don’t worry.” Jared rolls his eyes. “No one will know it was me and it will be long before anyone finds his body.”
Griffin nods, accepting that explanation for whatever reason. He walks over to me, pulling a knife out of his pocket and gently grabs my arm, sitting me upright. Leaning down he reaches behind me and I close my eyes, breathing in deeply without realizing. He smells faintly like cedar and leather. I feel him grab my wrists and the zip-tie digs into my skin as he slices it with his knife, setting my hands free.
He pulls away and I cradle my hands in my lap rubbing my wrists. He kneels down in front of me again. “Are you okay to walk?” he asks quietly. I nod, not sure if I’m lying or not. He nods and slowly stands back up, extending his arm to me. “Let’s go,” he says.
I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. He waits for me to steady myself, watching with disbelieving eyes. “You guys are pretty fuckin’ cute,” Jared sneers from the couch.
“Fuck you, Jared.” Griffin shakes his head and leads me out of the house. He helps me into his car that screams money and I slide easily into the leather seat. Griffin gets in the other side and starts the car. The car starts beeping as he puts it in drive.
“It won’t stop beeping until you put on your seatbelt,” he says as if he’s reminding me. What he doesn’t know is I haven’t been in an actual car in years.
“Oh, right,” I say, quietly, quickly pulling the belt across my body and securing it. I can feel his eyes still on me as the car continues to idle.
I look over at him, meeting his dark eyes that are filled with something unfamiliar.
Sorrow.
“I’m sorry for all of this,” he says quietly.
I give him a curt nod, breaking eye contact and after a moment he turns away and starts to drive.
So am I.