Melanie was quiet as hell, unnervingly so. It almost seemed as if she hadn’t heard a word, but English knew better than that.
“Speaking of which, thank you for introducing me to your friend, Channey. She and I really clicked, and I’m glad she was there.”
“Of course… of course… She knows what she’s doing. This Master Harasser wants to stalk people? Well, we’re now stalking his ass…” Her heart began to beat all the faster. “This isn’t a game.” His tone rose sharply, and the deep huskiness of his voice saturated the words. “So, don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’re not going to let a damn thing happen to you. And that’s on God.” She nodded, not sure what to say. “My boy got this under control.”
He ran the pad of his thumb against the corner of her eye, as if wiping away a tear.
“Hey, Melanie, I can’t smoke due to Axel’s rules—slave drivin’ ass—but I do want a cigar. You got any left?”
“Yup. I got you.” Melanie got up and walked off to her bedroom.
English didn’t say a word. She hated him already. He was loud and intimidating on purpose. Kind of like Axel, but less polished, and seemed to have less self-control. Still, she struggled with this first impression. He was abrupt, uncouth, abhorrent. And yet, somewhere beyond the iron fortress, he had a dark charisma—and a good heart. He cared a hell of a lot about Axel. It was actually touching. He cared about his sister, too. She didn’t know their complete history, but the bit she was aware of made her understand that these two men had been through the fire and back.
In that moment, she felt more blessed than ever to have met and fallen in love with Axel and wondered if meeting Melanie first, so long ago, was already written in the stars? Maybe Ms. Florence didn’t speak to Axel first, after all. Maybe, she got to her, years ago, putting her in the right place at the right time to meet Melanie, so everything could flow as it should. On top of it, Axel said that Ms. Florence was a history teacher. She understood the importance of the past, and how it shaped the future. Turned it into three promises…
She took another sip of her wine and blinked away tears—this time, ones of joy.
Maybe this was the hand of God, after all? A divine intervention of epic proportions…
Chapter Twenty-Three
The sounds of ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky,’ by Patsy Cline, reverberated throughout Axel’s house. A bad rainstorm had knocked the power out in much of Portland, and the moon was bright and high in the atmosphere, affording much needed light.
English slipped out of her black rain jacket and boots. The ritualistic weekend date she’d grown dependent upon was now underway, but a heaviness hung in the air, like the big raindrops that fell from the sky. It had been a few days since they’d had time together, and in typical Axel fashion, picking up some fast food, scarfing it down to the beat of rock and roll, then off to his house to screw was in his eyes the ideal formula for a romantic good time. Those fries were good though…
She could still taste the salty fries on her pallet. She slipped her tongue along the edge of her mouth to taste a bit more. Standing at the bottom of the steps, daydreaming, her thoughts turned into clouds—fluffy nothingness. When she went to lick her fingers for another taste of salt, he grabbed her hand and licked her fingertips for her. She screamed giddily when he suddenly plucked her from the floor like a flower, and carried her up his staircase, pausing only to kiss her. He’s been so quiet…
That week, Axel called and texted, per usual, but they were far less expressive and specific. Her mind was working overtime, wondering what trouble he may have immersed himself in. She questioned him about the police updates regarding his own case, and he pretty much shuffled her inquiries under the rug, assuring her things were fine, and he was not worried. Well, at least that made one of them. She wanted to know more, and though she hadn’t brought it up to him, Legend’s words from the other day haunted her: “He’s got this.”
What was Axel planning? What did Legend know?
If I had asked, I might have regretted it.
So, she let it go.
“You comfortable, baby?” he asked after he deposited her on his bed.
“Mmm hmm.”
Plop plop… plop… plop. Plip… plop…
“What’s that?” She rose onto her elbows and looked across the room.
Axel casually glanced over his shoulder as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Gotta leak I have to fix is all. A bucket is catchin’ the rain. Roof problem there by the gutter.”
She strained to see, but it was useless in the dim room. The sound of the leaky roof blended in with Apalachee Don’s ‘Eagles’ in a strong, off-beat way. As Axel moved about the room, the floors creaked under his gait. He lit two white candles, placing them on either side of the bed. The small flames danced, creating monsters and angels that scaled the walls, big and tall.