Chapter Eight

Thirty minutes alter, they arrived at the house. She got off her bike, took off her helmet, and looked around for him.

For a second, when she hadn't been able to locate him, she thought he'd taken off. When she turned around, however, she saw him standing there.

"Yo, Cris! What took ya so long, girl? Get your ass in here!" Bastian yelled from the doorway.

She looked at the still nameless guy standing in front of her.

"After you," she gestured.

"Uh-huh. Ladies first," he argued.

She smiled. Such a gentleman. Time would tell.

No sooner had she stepped through the door than a round of applause could be heard.

She began getting 'congratulations' and 'great race' comments from random guests.

"Thank you all," she said above the noise. "Wish I could stay and talk, but I have something I need to do."

Bastian had emerged from the kitchen, two beers in hand, both open.

"So," he started, not having seen the mystery man behind her, "enjoying the crowd?"

She took both beers from him and, when he shot her a questioning look, turned to the mystery guy and offered him one.

"Corona?"

He nodded, then reached out and took one.

"You have company," Bastian commented.

"Yes, I do. And we need to talk. Alone," she replied, putting emphasis on the last word.

"Cris, we have…" Bastian began, but was cut off.

"Bastian, I know we have guests. Does it look like I care?" Lowering her voice, she continued. "There's a reason he's here and you know it. The only way he's gonna talk is if there aren't a lot of people around."

"Aight. But if you need something…" Bastian agreed reluctantly.

"I'll call," she nodded, then smiled.

She turned back to the mystery man, whose name she still didn't know, and gestured to the kitchen door.

"Shall we?"

"After you," was the answer.

They walked through the kitchen and out the back door onto the back porch.

Neither said a word for a few moments. It wasn't until he took out a pack of cigarettes, took one out then offered her one that either of them spoke.

"I don't know your name, but you're gonna offer me a cigarette?" she smiled.

"You think I'm gonna poison you or something?" he laughed. "Look, I didn't come to Denver to kill you."

Before he could continue, she spoke.

"Then why did you come to Denver?"

"I came to find you."

She now looked at him and took in the whole package. He had the gruff features of a rugged man with his light-brown hair and baby-blue eyes. He was broad-shouldered even though he wore a bulky leather jacket.

"You came to find me," she repeated after a few minutes.

"Yeah," he answered.

"And you knew where to find me how?"

He ran his hand through his hair, knowing the more pressing questions weren't far behind.

"My sister told me."

"Your sister. And just who are you?"

He took a deep breath before answering.

"Jagger Falcone."

"And your sister is…?" she still wasn't believing anything.

"Lise…" he began, and then everything hit her.

"Lisette? Lisette Martin is your sister?" she just about shouted.

"Was, but yes," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Was? What do you mean 'was'? Did something hap---" everything hit her like a ton of bricks. Every realization she had overwhelmed her and she began to sink to the deck. He managed to catch her milliseconds before she hit it.

Helping her to a bench on one side, he let her take her time to absorb all of this information. She and Lisette had been best friends and her death had to hit her as hard as it had hit him.

It seemed like hours before she spoke, although it was probably only about twenty minutes.

"What---" she tried hard to find her voice. "What happened to Lise?"

Jagger took a deep breath, knowing there was one final question he had to ask before answering her questions.

"I know you're HER, but before I tell you, can I get your name? Since you know mine 'n' all."

Without speaking, she nodded her head.

"Crisalyn. Crisalyn Garcia," she spoke softly, as if afraid that her voice would betray her feelings.

"I'm sorry it's not under better circumstances, Crisalyn, but---" she cut him off.

"It's Cris. No one calls me Crisalyn."

"Cris, it's nice to finally meet you. Lise told me so much about you before---" it was his voice that trailed off this time.

"It's okay. Take your time," she offered.

He recounted everything that had led up to him coming to Denver…his conversation with Lisette about Cris; Lisette meeting the strange newcomer in town; the two years after that. When he got to the part when he was telling her about seeing Lisette in the chair in the warehouse, battered and bruised, he choked up.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," she said, taking both their beers inside. She returned a few moments later with a glass of water, which she handed to him.

"Thanks," he said weakly, taking a sip as she sat back down.

She waited patiently for a few minutes while he regained his composure. Finally, it looked like he was ready and he took a deep breath. She knew this must be hard for him.

"Cris, I just…she was so helpless. I'd never seen Lise like that. So broken…her body, her spirit…I almost didn't recognize her. It all happened so fast. I had brought along some guys and we took out his men like they were nothing. But when it came to him; when I saw him standing there, holding a gun to Lise's head, I froze.

"I…" his voice broke and she put a hand on his shoulder.

"I couldn't save her, Cris. I couldn't, and now she's dead because of me."

"Jagger, do NOT blame yourself for what happened to Lise. It was beyond your control. How were you supposed to know that would happen?"
"I…" he started, but she cut him off.

"You couldn't. So, please, don't blame yourself for someone else's actions," she argued.

They sat in silence speak. Neither one wanted to speak, each for their own reason.