Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (30 page)

“You’re right.” The useless weight at the end of his neck nodded like a bobble-head doll’s. “Why
is
that?”

“Because I’m
not
one of them, you idiot!”

Mitch snagged the collar of Landon’s shirt, twisting it. He knew Hyde was controlling him, manipulating him. But he’d made a fatal mistake by trusting Jolie—always assuming he understood her motives, how gray her morality was. Was the cop any different? Hyde was burning to be free—to have Mitch give in—to take over and lead a dance that would only be over once Landon was dead.

No!
He felt his arm pull back, fling forward, wiping the look off the cop’s face when it struck.

Then Landon rallied, his expression no longer surprised, but fierce and driven as he shoved Mitch away. But Mitch didn’t let go of his shirt. When he stumbled backwards, Landon came with him. As they hit the floor, Mitch tried to hold himself in check, his body not entirely his. All he could do was limit the force of each punch he threw, not allowing Hyde to hurt as much as the bastard wanted to. Mitch rolled on top of the cop, pinning him to the floor with one arm and trying desperately to stop the other arm from striking.

“I’m not one of them, damn it!” Landon wasn’t holding back. He slammed his fist into Mitch’s side, just under his rib cage. Tried to throw Mitch’s weight off of him.

“I can’t stop him,” Mitch moaned.

“Don’t let him kill me!” Landon was bleeding from the mouth and one eye. His grunts of pain filling Mitch’s ears and numbing them to everything else. “Mitch, don’t!” His eyes widened when Mitch put his fingers over his throat. Landon threw his hands out, scraping hard enough to leave lines of blood, his legs kicking violently under Mitch’s body weight. Then Landon’s arm flicked out to Mitch’s neck. His fingertips struck Mitch in the throat.

Mitch jerked back, glad that his grip on the cop’s windpipe slipped. He gagged at the sudden fiery pain, the desperate sense of not being able to breathe.

Somehow, the pain helped. Helped Mitch reclaim his body, reclaim
himself
. He tried to back away, to end the fight. Whether he believed Landon or not—if it was his paranoia that had kicked into over-drive—didn’t matter. What
mattered
was that a dead traitor would ruin Mitch’s chance of getting more information. And a dead friend would ruin
him
. Of course, Landon probably wouldn’t be too thrilled with either outcome.

Hyde’s power lasted for a moment more. But it was enough time to land one last punch, knocking Landon out. The force flung Landon’s face to the side, his eyes closed, his body limp. Mitch staggered backwards, tripping on Landon’s legs and falling against something hard. Maybe a chair, who knew and who cared? Mitch’s legs sure didn’t. He slumped down, his eyes never leaving the body in front of him. A constant murmur of useless apologies coming from his lips.

What have I done?
He scrambled up and went to check if Landon was still breathing. He was.

Mitch’s next stop was upstairs. He only filled the syringe halfway, not giving himself another chance to screw up. He needed to be coherent and breathing, so he could apologize. Even if he couldn’t trust him again, the cop had done
way
too much for him. Landon had saved Mitch’s ass from self-destructing too many times to count. And for
that
, he deserved clemency. Even if he
was
working for enemy. Maybe.

As soon as he got downstairs, he saw the cop’s body jerk, abs contracting, raising him off the floor, eyes wide open, as if still expecting to be in the fight. But the war between them was over. One war among many for Mitch—the never-ending one within himself, and another just beginning with The Clinic. And he was
so
fucking tired of fighting.

It took a minute of groaning and coughing for Landon to be able to focus and balance.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said.

When Landon moved to get up, Mitch stuck his hand out to help. And to apologize. But it would probably take more than that to make up for almost killing him.

Landon shook his head. “Don’t need your help.” His voice was scratchy, but the intent was still there. He stood awkwardly and went to sit in a chair across the room.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch repeated. What else could he say?

“Enough.” He held up his hand, leaning forward, bracing his other arm on his thigh. “How’d you stop him from killing me?”

Hyde. “You got a few good hits in. The pain soothed him. Made him easier to subdue.”

“Got anything to drink?” He looked up from the floor. “I mean water.”

“You can have whatever you want, man.”

Landon pointed to a bottle of Gatorade on the side table. Mitch walked slowly and handed it to him gently. Least he could do.

“So do you believe me?” the cop asked quietly. “Or do I sleep with both eyes open from now on?”

“Not sure,” Mitch said, sitting back down, exhausted. He could only
imagine
how the cop felt. “Sorry, man. I wanna trust you, but…my judgment has been proven wrong so many fucking times, it’s two bus stops
past
pathetic.” He was blind. To himself. To others. You name it. “But even if I
do
”—he shook his head—“I’m not sure
you
should trust
me
.”

“Yeah.” He took a slow, deep breath. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to jot down a list. You’re going to
call
the numbers on that list.”

“What’ll that do?”

“My old partner from the Atlanta precinct will tell you about Tara—why I left Atlanta and came here. Then you’ll call my mom. She’ll tell you what I’ve done since.”

“You have a mom?” Mitch joked.

Landon nodded, grinning slightly. “And two sisters. One
decent
brother-in-law and one I wouldn’t care if you got to. You can talk to all of them. Ask as many embarrassing questions as you want to. And then I’ll give you their addresses.” His eyes seared the promise into Mitch’s. Landon was offering up his entire family as collateral, proof he wasn’t in on it. And trusting Mitch enough that nothing would happen to them. That was something Jolie had never done, nor
would’ve
ever done. Even if she’d given a shit about her family.

Mitch’s nod was slow and confirming. “That’s proof enough.”

“Good,” Landon said, taking a small sip from the bottle. “Then don’t try to kill me again.”

“Deal.” He got up, crossed the room without moving too quickly, and put out his hand.

Landon took it, his grip tight, not letting go even after they shook. “ ‘He who does not trust enough, will not be trusted’, asshole.” Then he released his hand and leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed, a small smile on his lips.

“Thanks for the tip, Confucius.”

“That was Lao-tzu, not Confucius.”

“Oh, right. Lao-tzu. Wasn’t he the guy who also said, ‘He who has nothing interesting to say should shut the fuck up’?”

Landon laughed. “I think that was someone else.”

How the guy could forgive so easily was beyond Mitch’s comprehension. He’d always assumed Landon was good at holding a grudge. What else would keep him so focused on The Clinic?

The Clinic
. “You still got that syringe?”

“The
supposed
serum?”

Mitch nodded. “I’m thinking I should take the plunge, test it out. You know, so I don’t wig out on you again.” He couldn’t be
this
out of control and expect to accomplish anything.

“Screw that,” Landon said. “
I
wouldn’t take it. Of course, I also wouldn’t almost murder you, but…”

“I wouldn’t either. Not if I was still
me
. He’s gaining traction, Landon. Every move I made was his. And I could barely slow him down.”

“But you did. Just like the night that Jolie was killed. You stopped him. So just…keep doing that.”

“I don’t know if I can,” he mumbled.

“So you think the serum will do it for you?” He shook his head. “What’s that saying—‘Resentment is taking the poison and hoping someone else will die’? Nah, if you take that crap, I’d be more likely to go with: ‘
Stupid
is taking the poison someone gives you and hoping like hell
you
don’t die.’ No, stick to the hard stuff, asshole. Then, once we get in there, we grab the shit right off the shelf. That way you know what it is.”

But what if, by then, it’s too late?

Eden had made sure to set the meeting place far away from the brothel, not wanting The Clinic to know where the brothel was and not wanting Mitch and Landon to know where The Clinic was. She had one chance to do this. One chance to do this
right
. And she couldn’t have Mitch screw it up by destroying the only thing that would keep him alive.

She’d play nice. Be the good, obedient girl she used to be. Pretend to
want
to come back. Pretend that Mitch had rejected her as well as their offer of help. Once she was inside, she’d find the serum and steal as much as she could. And then, she’d run.

When she saw the SUV, she stepped out from the corner she’d been hiding in, glancing around to see if they’d brought backup. The car parked about fifty feet from her and waited. No one got out, and no other cars appeared—not that she could see. But she knew they were being cautious, anticipating a possible ambush. So she raised her arms and turned in a tight circle. If she’d had a white flag, she would’ve waved it.

“I’m alone,” she called out. “He’s not here.” After waiting another minute for some sign of…
anything
, she walked towards them. She wasn’t afraid, even though there was a strong possibility they would jump out, shove her to the ground, and drag her in. And after the fight at Mitch’s house, they’d probably
enjoy
hurting her a little. Claiming self-defense. So she moved slowly, not wanting to start anything or give them any reason to attack. Supposedly, they wouldn’t hurt her, but it would be stupid to test the theory unnecessarily. She needed to be healthy, unbruised. Because once she had the serum, she might have to fight her way out.

When she was about twenty feet away from the car, both doors opened and Fields and the other guard—whatever his name was—stepped out, their weapons raised, eyes surveying the area.

“It’s just little ole me, Fields. I come in peace. Take me to your leader.”

“Stop talking and start walking.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted, careful not to move too quickly. A bullet lodged somewhere in her body or recovering from a Taser’s jump-start would only delay her plan.

He opened the back door for her.

“Always a gentleman,” she said. “Nice to see you.”

He holstered his weapon. “Why didn’t he come with you?”

She shrugged dramatically. “Can you believe that he doesn’t trust you people? I mean, what have you ever done to
him
?”

“That’s too bad.” His face didn’t change—not that she expected a warm welcome. No, the cuffs he slapped on her wrists and the blindfold he shoved over her head were more what she’d expected.

In the sudden darkness, she felt Fields’s arm under her knees and behind her back as he picked her up and set her down in the car. She didn’t fight…
him
. Her fight was internal—forcing herself to remain calm, to accept the confinement, the lack of sight or ability to protect herself.

Greater good, Eden. Remember the greater good.
“Can we go to a drive-thru? I’m starving.” Talking, reaching out, wanting to connect to the world with her other senses was too strong to ignore.

After he slammed her door, she heard the two men get into the car and shut their own.

“How was your outing, Eden?” Fields asked.

“Really great, thanks. How are the guys who came to visit me doing?” she asked casually.

“Very kind of you to ask. They’re doing much better.”

“No trouble with the police, then?”

“None whatsoever.”

Play nice. Pretend like you give a shit.
“They understand that I was just protecting myself, don’t they?” She didn’t really care what they thought, but the last thing she needed was to have two more variables.

He paused. “They were just doing their jobs.”

“Yeah, and their
jobs
included forcing me to do something that I wasn’t ready to do. And I don’t like it when people try to force me to do things. Maybe if they’d…oh I don’t know…
not
broken into the house and attacked me, we wouldn’t have had to argue. If they were just doing what Alex told them to do, then I should probably discuss it with her.”

“It’s already been discussed, so there should be no more trouble.”

“Well, that’s just…great.” She tried to quell her desire for noise and focused on the drive—how long it took, how many turns, and which direction they were going. The trip back seemed shorter, but she wondered if part of that was the dread of going back. Did that mean that the brothel, which was southwest of Mitch’s house, was closer to The Clinic’s facility? The trip out had felt like it’d taken forever. So how much of that was perception and how much was fact? For all she knew, The Clinic could be in downtown Fort Lauderdale and they were taking the scenic route to confuse her.

After they stopped, Fields took her out of the car and removed the blindfold. Eden had to squint—the florescent lights burned her retinas. When her vision returned, the first thing she saw was Alex, looking exactly the same as she had a few days ago. She might have been wearing a different shirt, but Eden wasn’t sure.

“Welcome back, Eden.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m saddened to see that Mitch didn’t come in with you.”

Eden’s lips were tight. “Well, after what happened at his house, you can imagine he might be hesitant to accept your invitation. I thought I was allowed to go whenever I wanted to, and that you weren’t going to hurt me.”

Glancing at Fields, Alex flicked her head and then walked away.

“So much for my freedom, huh?” Eden held her hands out to him as they walked. “But now that I’m back, can you take the cuffs off?”

“Alex?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said without turning. “She’s safe now.”

“What
is
it with you two?” Eden asked them. “Are you screwing or something? I can’t figure it out—it’s like you take turns being in charge.” Neither one of them replied, but Fields seemed unusually slow with unlocking the cuffs. She should’ve waited to start harassing them. Too late now. “Oh, are you not allowed to talk about it here?” she asked him. “I’m shocked—The Clinic seems so open to new things.”