Funny. Someone finally gave a shit about him and all he wanted was for her to change her mind.
Landon led them through the winding streets of a gated community and parked in front of the smallest house on the block. While Eden backed the truck into the driveway, Landon went up to the door.
Mitch called out, “We’ll start rigging up the back.”
Even though she and Landon seemed to think all was kosher with Fields, Mitch didn’t. Fields’ hands were very, very dirty for a very, very long time. Sure, he did it for his daughter, but—
Huh. Wouldn’t Mitch have done the same or worse to make sure Eden was alright? Hurt anyone he had to? Maybe. It might not be moral but, it was understandable. Human.
Goddamn morality is a fucking pain in the ass.
When he got to the back of the truck, Eden was staring at the roll-up door as if she was gathering her courage to see what was inside. As if she already saw the prison it would be. He flipped the locking mechanism and then pulled the chain hand-over-hand to open the door. With no ramp to walk up, he boosted himself up onto the edge and then lifted her. Not that she needed the help. It was more because he needed to be able to help her any way he could, for as long as he could.
She started unpacking the tools, giving Mitch a moment to wander around his newest, and hopefully very temporary, home. Once they cut holes in the floor, put chains through them, and wrapped the chains around the truck’s frame, it would be a cage. But until then it was just a cave, the sunlight only reaching about halfway in, leaving the area farthest from the door in complete darkness.
Mitch suppressed a girlie shiver. When you’re planning on going into hell chained to the floor, a little sunlight on your face is a very welcomed thing.
He shoved their stuff—sleeping bags, a couple folding cots, and bags filled with clothes and supplies—as tightly as he could to the far wall. Not that he cared if Hyde got slammed by something, but it would be nice not to wake up with a broken nose. They’d lay down some plywood over the metal so he’d be comfortable, if one can be comfortable while chained to the floor in the back of a truck.
“I want to be close to the door, if possible,” he said as he stomped on the floor in different areas, looking for weaknesses.
“Sure.” Her voice. Not scared, not sad, just cold. She was already starting to separate herself. Concentration was good, but full-blown lack of emotion wasn’t.
“What are you thinking?” He crouched down next to her and started piecing together what they’d bought.
She took a deep breath, but without tears or any lip wiggles. “This is so far beyond life not being fair, it feels deliberate. Like the universe hates me and is punishing me with everything it can come up with.” No, she was just an unfortunate bystander to his punishment. Collateral damage because she loved him.
“I don’t have too many things to come back for.” He lifted her chin. “But it doesn’t matter. Because I only need one.” He looked into her eyes, trying to take a mental picture of them so he’d have something to hold onto later. And then it got too overwhelming, and he had to break the tension before one of them—probably him—started bawling. “Make that two things—I really want to see Landon in a Speedo.”
She laughed lightly. “He has a great ass, doesn’t he?”
“Did you really just say that?”
“That he has a great ass? Yeah, I did.”
“You’re so cruel,” he said, taking the hacksaw out of her hands and pulling her onto his lap. “But it’s not as good as mine, right?”
“I had no idea you were so insecure about your ass, Mitch.” God, he loved her smile. Her humor. Her teasing.
“Not at all. I just want to make sure I’m showing it off to its full potential. If not, I’ll borrow a pair of pants from the cop.”
“Your ass is amazing, don’t worry.” Her laugh was musical. “Do you know what I love about us?” She paused for only a second, just enough time for him to hope her next word would be ‘everything’. “No matter what hell we’re going through, we can be normal.”
“We’re never going to be normal, babe.”
“Yes, we are. It’s not all about war or revenge or fear or being what we are. When we’re not fighting or having make-up sex, we’re just regular people. It helps me deal with the rest.”
“I hate the fighting, but I’m a big fan of the make-up sex.”
“I promise that if you stick around, you’ll be so content, you won’t need the make-up sex.”
“Deal.”
“So you’ll stick around?”
“As long as humanly possible.” It was a safe answer. Nothing could drag him away from her while he was human. And when he wasn’t? He couldn’t control that.
There was a limit as to how lucky one man could be. And he was maxed out. So, to keep the universe balanced, lots of bad shit had to happen. All he could hope for was that he got the brunt of it and it touched her as little as possible.
She held his face, traced his jaw, his lips, before leaning in and brushing her lips along the same path. “Any minute you could go, and he could come back.”
“Yep. But we have more dope, so you won’t get rid of me for long.”
They’d decided not to waste his human-time on the drive. So Hyde would enjoy the road-trip in the back, on his back. Alone.
Along the way, Landon would try to find a way in, maybe through the rent-a-cop company that handled security for the lab. Then, once they got to Dallas, Landon could start poking around. And when they were ready, they’d tap into Hyde’s vein and bring Mitch back for another go at it. Hopefully a long one. Possibly a violent one. Definitely a welcome one.
“We need to finish this,” he said after a too-short but incredibly-satisfying kiss. “But when you wake me up, be prepared to get naked immediately. And make sure you warn Landon because he shouldn’t see what I’m going to do to you.”
“What’d you just say about me?” Landon stood there holding an extension cord. A few of his new friends—including one of Eden’s ex-captors—were behind him. All of them stared at Mitch as if he would go beastly any second and they couldn’t blink until it happened.
A second later, Eden launched herself at the bastard from the three-foot high truck bed and landed in his arms.
To stop himself from glaring at or assaulting Fields, Mitch focused on setting up his cage. What a fantastic way to spend what could be his last couple of hours. He turned away, wondering why she was so comfortable with someone who spent a long time fucking them over. Ignoring their chatter, he just did the socially-acceptable nodding thing as Eden introduced Fields’ daughter, Alicia.
“Justin, come over here.” She beckoned over the other friend-who-Mitch-would-never-consider-a-friend. “I want to introduce you.”
The kid shook his head, standing back from it all as if he was afraid to get too close. And for some unknown reason that hurt Mitch’s feelings. What the fuck? With very specific and very recent exceptions, Mitch didn’t have feelings, and he never cared what other people thought of him. And it was just his luck that the one time he did care—outside of Eden—it was a sixteen-year-old punk who—
Ah-ha. A sixteen-year-old punk who looked an awful lot like what Mitch did around that age. Including the slumped shoulders, the drawn face, and the ‘I don’t give a shit about myself or anyone else’ expression.
At sixteen Mitch had just killed his father and found out what he had to look forward to in a couple years. And at sixteen, Justin had just been clued-in on the traitorous bastards who’d given him a place to stay and pretended to like him.
That’s some deep-seated idiocy there, asshole. You better find time to work on those daddy/monster issues, or you might not be healthy emotionally.
Great angsty thing to bond over. If Mitch was interested. Which he wasn’t. Even if he wasn’t leaving both Florida and the human race very soon, making new friends wouldn’t be high on his list.
Eden sighed. “Mitch, Justin. Justin, Mi
tch.”
“It’s Mitchell or Turner, not Mitch.” After a final ‘hey’-and-nod, Mitch turned on the hacksaw, wondering if he’d be electrocuted, thus sending everyone into a full-blown panic as they all assumed his shakes were really a seizure. Then they’d strap him up and inject him with serum numero dos. The ‘going back to hell’ serum. Really, he couldn’t remember a time he’d had this much fun.
Once he verified that electrocution wasn’t going to happen, he attacked the floor, cutting a hole just big enough to run a chain through—a bunch of chains really—estimating how far apart to make them. He laughed, realizing that he needed to lie down and have someone draw a chalk outline around his sorry-ass to know how far apart to put the holes.
Since Eden seemed happy talking to the others, he called out to Landon. “Hey, asshole, I need some help.”
Eden kept smiling, and everyone else shut up.
The asshole jumped in the truck. “It’s a pet name. He has a deep affinity for assholes. Aaand...that came out wrong.”
Eyebrows stayed up for another second and then everyone went back to talking and glancing repeatedly at the unlucky bastard who’d be spending all his free time in the back of a truck.
“I’m not really concerned with how comfortable he is.” The argument about how spread-eagled he should be was one of the best and most ludicrous arguments Mitch had ever had.
“They’re your muscles too.” Landon marked the floor. “Do you want to wake up like da Vinci’s man or have every appendage asleep?”
He smirked. “Not every appendage.”
Landon grumbled something under his breath.
“You used to love my wit, cop. Have we lost some of our magic?”
“Do you think I like doing this, Turner?” He stayed focused on the line he was drawing on the floor, but his voice was sharp. “That it’s fun for me? I don’t want to laugh right now, so stop it with the jokes.”
“I can’t.” Mitch moved closer so no one would hear the pussy-ass thing he was about to admit. “I need them. The bad jokes and the inappropriate or untimely comments. I need all of them because…I’m afraid.”
Landon whipped his head up from the floor to stare at him. “You said it didn’t hurt.”
“I lied. It…” is unimaginable torture. “It’s not the pain I’m worried about. I need you to do what I can’t—to keep Eden safe. You fucked up the last time and I appreciate it, but my luck doesn’t come in twos or threes. So next time, don’t fuck up. And don’t let her fuck up either. She’s changed…again. She’s different, isn’t she? Doing things that aren’t who she is?”
The cop nodded, making Mitch wonder how many things she didn’t tell him about. He’d noticed the tension between her and Landon—it was hard not to—but that was yet another conversation that would have to wait. “Please don’t let her get away with it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s what I’m counting on. You have the stuff that will bring me back, the J-some number? If it comes to it, if you can’t help her, bring me out so that I can. And I’ll owe you two ponies.”
Landon stuck out his hand. “I hate you.”
“Me too, man. Me too.” They didn’t exactly hold hands, but it was close. A true bond built on who-the-fuck-knew, because Landon was way too good to him. There wasn’t a single thing Mitch didn’t respect about the guy. And all he could do was be thankful there was a reason—as warped and unbelievable as it was—that Landon seemed to feel the same way.
Before they let go, Mitch said, “Oh, and you need to get laid. ASAP. And ditch those pants. Your ass looks too good in them.”
Landon’s look of total confusion only made Mitch laugh more. “You’re such a tease, you know that, Turner? And one hell of a sick bastard.”
“Not only my opinion, cop. My woman—” She was. She was his woman. Forever. “My woman noticed first.”
Landon glanced towards Eden, his eyes wide. “Really?” Then he smirked. “You best make sure you come back then.”
Mitch knew it was a joke, but his territorial side shot up a big fucking red flag and all he could do was slow his response down. “Touch her and—”
Landon held up a hand. “Relax, asshole. I’m not touching anything that belongs to you. Other than your vast wealth, of course.”
“Enjoy it. Just don’t blow it all on ice cream and hookers.” He lay down and let Landon finish marking the floor around him.
Mitch felt Justin’s eyes on him the entire time they worked. Eventually he gave up and told the kid to crawl under the truck. “Catch the chain as it comes down, preferably not with your face.”
The kid did as he was told without comment. When Mitch went down to secure the chains on the frame, he backed up as if Mitch were a rattlesnake.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite guys.” He laughed, knowing he was probably causing some permanent scarring. But scars came with what they were. And the kid probably had quite a collection already.
After the cop double-checked everything, Eden triple-checked everything. Alicia came outside with sandwiches and a case of Heineken. Landon and Eden passed, the kids got a headshake from Fields as he took one for himself, and Mitch claimed the rest as coping aids. He felt fine now, but he knew what was coming. Any minute he’d get the shimmy-shakes and be strapped down, so he would celebrate his masculinity for as long as he could. And what better way to do that than with a gorgeous woman tucked in his arm and an almost-full case of beer?
Chapter XI
Once the truck was set-up, the food was eaten, and plans were made, people got fidgety. They were just waiting for Mitch to seize or transform or die or…
Die. Eden’s jaw slammed shut, and she stepped away from him. Claustrophobia wasn’t new to her, but this time she wasn’t in a small space or tied up. Her throat was so tight, she had to concentrate to get air through it.
Not working. She bolted for the front of the truck, away from the people and the chains and the fear.
Someone asked if she was alright, but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t speak.
One foot in front of the other. Hurry. Find air.
From behind her she heard Mitch say, “Let her go. She can take care of herself.” He somehow understood and was respecting her needs, even though they were probably the exact opposite of his.
She put her head against the cold metal of the truck’s door, staring at the pavement, trying to calm down. The logical thing for her to do was hold onto him until everything went to hell, but she couldn’t. He didn’t need the distance, but she did.
Mitch knew where he was going and how he would get there. But all Eden knew was that she was lost. Her feet couldn’t find the ground, and her mind was a confused mess. He was leaving her again and she didn’t know how to deal with that.
It wasn’t self-pity—it was the kind of feeling that creates nothing. Being incapable of clear thought, of not knowing what might happen or remembering what had already happened. Of not knowing where you were or who you were. Just…nothing. She was so tired. And the only person who could snap her out of it would soon be in chains on the floor of a moving truck.
Fields and Alicia ignored Mitch’s advice and followed her. Right after she slumped down on the truck’s running board, Fields did the same thing. Landon and Alicia created the other two corners of the square. Justin stood back about ten feet and Mitch watched her sadly from where she’d left him. The conversation was incredibly awkward, everyone too tense to speak normally. They all knew what they were waiting for.
She looked over to Mitch, leaning against the truck that would be his home once he transformed back into Hyde. The only times his eyes left her were when he glanced at Justin, who was trying hard not to stare at Mitch.
The two finally met each other’s gaze—man and boy—both with something dangerous and painful inside of them. Justin was who Mitch once was, and Mitch was who Justin might be someday. Only seconds later, they broke contact.
Eden was disappointed. If
they let themselves connect, it might be good for both of them. But to force a relationship would be useless or counter-productive, so she let it go. Maybe someday, if everything went their way, the man and soon-to-be-man would have another chance.
A slim chance built on another slim chance.
“I’m gonna take off,” Justin said.
“Can’t it wait a few more days?” It hadn’t been long since Fields became Justin’s guardian, but it was obviously taking a toll on him.
“No, it can’t,” he snapped. “I didn’t agree to this. I can’t go to school, can’t see my friends, can’t do anything. I’m so sick of sitting around doing nothing.”
Fields sighed. “Where will you be?”
“A friend’s. And yes, I’ll leave his phone number,” he said without provocation. “But I’m spending the night. Because if I have to sleep around freaks for the rest of my life, I think one night of freedom isn’t asking too much.”
Mitch closed his eyes for a second and then pushed off the truck. “It’s a rare thing to have someone who actually wants to help you, kid. Don’t fuck it up.” Without expecting a response, he came towards the group.
“Whatever.” Justin took off, knocking his fist on the truck as he went around the back.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let him go?” Mitch asked.
Eden took his arms and put them around her, tucking herself into his chest. Because he wouldn’t be here to keep her standing for much longer.
“He doesn’t want to move,” Fields said, shrugging. “His Hyde isn’t due for a couple days, so I’ll give him tonight. Tomorrow we start packing up, and I’m hoping we’ll be ready to leave for Georgia in a few days. Hopefully we’ll be there and set-up by his next transformation. But teenagers are slow when it comes to doing anything you want them to do.”
“Is he doing okay with any of this?” Eden asked.
“No. But then, which one of us is?”
Mitch flinched violently, his arms tightening around her like a vise, his weight falling forward onto her. Before she could turn around, he’d fallen to his knees.