Chapter 4
Patrick
I avoided Teresa for the rest of the journey, which had turned out to be longer since the violent storm had thrown the ship off its course for a few days.
During the day it was rather easy. She spent most of her time in the library with Grace, while I amused myself in the game room, earning coin and the disgruntled looks of the patrons. The pastime had also managed to grant me some notoriety, as more and more refused to gamble with me. Many times I had to force myself to lose to keep myself invited. It quickly became tedious.
The nights, though, were the hardest. After that first time I'd slept at her side, it was difficult to doom myself to sleeplessness, when her hypnotic charm was right there, promising to chase away the nightmares. The fact that she'd suggested I share the bed with her—for my own sake, she'd explained, though I knew she simply hated to be lonely—made things all the more difficult. Still, I resisted.
For a day, at least.
Then, quite unexpectedly, she became part of my nightmare.
The first time, I woke up hyperventilating, shaken to my core. The image of her slain on her bed—her, and not Angela—was still vivid behind my eyes. I went to check on her that night, ended up sleeping by her side.
I could hardly spend my nights on board after that. I'd wait till after midnight, when I was sure she'd fallen asleep, and then I'd slip back into the shelter of her peace and calm. More than once, I'd wakened just like that first time, pressed to her body and burning with desire.
The mornings became a daily ritual of clearing my head and refocusing on my path to vengeance. I was often pleased to find that the beast inside me had not calmed in the slightest. It still craved for blood to be paid. And so it was often what drew me back to reality.
One of those mornings I was strolling across the deck, my jacket suspended from my elbow. It was still the break of dawn and so most of the passengers were still in their quarters. I paced close to the side and feasted my eyes on the wild ocean.
Dolphins broke the surface of the water, dancing and shrieking happily. I stepped closer to the edge, a smile spreading on my face. I was so engrossed in the joyful sight that I did not hear the approaching steps behind me.
Before I could react, a ball of cloth sealed my mouth, while a knife came at my throat. I raised my hands in the air.
Tongue-clucking mixed with boots slowly stepping on the board. A man ambled into my vicinity with glaring nonchalance, rested his back on the railing and lowered his head to his palms to light a cigarette. He took a whiff and turned his gaze on me.
I recognized him immediately. His name was Marc Odenthal. He was a lousy gambler and hence it had been child's play to strip him off his money.
"I knew I'd find you here, you arrogant little bastard," he muttered. "You think you're so smart, playing everyone at your fingers. Well, you aren't going to be that smart at the bottom of the ocean."
I observed him carefully, my mouth still deprived of its ability to speak. He was dressed in formal suit and coat and his cigarette was of the expensive kind. That and his precaution to use his bodyguard to kill me instead of dirtying his own hands told me he had experience in legal affairs and in covering his tracks. A lawyer of some kind. A lawyer with a gambling obsession.
"Where is my money, Mr. Jane?" he asked. He paced to my side and leaned to my ear. His breath smelled of tobacco. "You can either tell me or, I can coerce that pretty lady of yours. You wouldn't like to know how diligent I am at coercing people."
He motioned to his comrade to release my mouth.
I took a deep breath, threw a glance over my shoulder. "Easy with the knife there," I said cautiously.
Marc gritted his teeth. "The money," he hissed.
I stared at him unblinking. "How about that—in exchange for my life, I will tell you what movement gives you away at cards."
His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly before he hardened his expression. "You don't make the rules here."
"Think about it—You will never have to lose ever again," I pressed, knowing I had caught his interest.
Our eyes wrestled for several minutes, but I never found out the outcome of my swift manipulation tactics, for the sound of a gun cocking came from behind me. Soon I realized it was not aimed at me.
"Drop your weapon," said a monotone voice.
The knife slowly moved away from my carotid artery, as Marc's bodyguard raised his hands in surrender.
"You, turn around and face the railing," ordered my rescuer.
Marc blasphemed, but did as he was asked.
I heard a punch and turned around, just as the man that held me captive was falling to the ground. Marc whirled to protest, but he too quickly became acquainted with the floorboard, just like his partner before him.
"That looked like it hurt," I commented, as the man that had rescued me put his gun at his back, covering it with his jacket, and turned to face me.
He was shorter than me, buff, and his face was a block of ice—entirely expressionless. I offered my hand readily. "Thank you," I said.
His gaze acknowledged my hand briefly, then ignored it.
Interesting fellow, I thought. I used my offered hand to point at him.
"Mr. Cho, right?"
Of course, I remembered him. He was the steward at Madeleine's estate. Obviously, his duty to the matriarch no longer bound him, considering we were in the middle of the ocean, far away from the grand villa. I wondered briefly whether Teresa knew he had come along, but I discarded the possibility. The lady couldn't keep a secret.
"Right," he answered.
I nodded, studying him with new eyes. In truth, when I'd first encountered him at the estate, he'd hardly held my attention. He had the emotional spectrum of a rock and seemed to care about little other than keeping order around the premises. Now I realized his social disinterest was only an act, for Mr. Cho had perfect timing in rescuing me and that could only mean one thing.
"Why are you following me, Mr. Cho?" I asked. "Did your Madam not trust me enough to honor our bargain?"
"She did," he replied. "I didn't."
Slowly the pieces of the puzzle came together.
"A humble steward who's also secretly... a spy," I said, a smile coaxing my lips open, as it all finally made sense. "Well played, Mr. Cho."
He folded his hands across his chest and sighed, as though he regretted saving me.
"Lady Madeleine had me trained from an early age to become her private investigator," he confessed. "I've been secretly working at her side ever since."
"The man who delivered her telegram to me, I assume he is your friend."
"Colleague."
"What did Madeleine need spies for?"
"It started because of her son. She needed me to keep her and her family safe from his schemes. When her younger grandchild moved across the Atlantic, she had to extend her protection there as well."
I nodded, carefully filing each piece of information. "So you ended up chasing all sorts of bad guys."
"Yes."
"How about Red John? How far are you regarding his case? I mean, besides the letter you obtained," I asked casually, concealing the intensity of my interest in his answer.
"Not far. The authorities in New York are carrying the primary investigation, as you are aware. My colleague helped them in a case and in return they updated him on the latest clues regarding the serial killer, as well as clearing off your criminal record."
I held his gaze firmly, my next question already forming in my head.
"Why me? You said yourself that you don't trust me. And yet you went into all that trouble to recruit me."
"My personal feelings are irrelevant. Lady Madeleine knew about your story. Your attempt to steal evidence caught her attention. She had me and my colleague search your background. After the information we gave her, she decided you were the right candidate for the scam she wanted to orchestrate."
"And you didn't question her choice?"
He shrugged. "She didn't ask for my opinion."
I frowned, then shook my head. "I assume Teresa knows nothing about all of this... coppers and robbers game you have going on?"
Finally, a sign of guilt broke through Mr. Cho's hard exterior. He sighed once again.
"No."
Marc groanned then, as he was slowly retrieving his senses. Mr. Cho procured a pair of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. He looked at me, "I will get these men to the brig. Try not to get yourself in trouble again."
I smiled and lifted my palm. "Thank you for coming to my rescue."
I nudged Marc's bodyguard in his rib, testing his response. Mr. Cho glared at me and so I took a step back, lifting my hands.
I turned to leave, but changed my mind at the last moment. "Oh, and Mr. Cho?" I said, turning back around.
"What?" he asked, evidently annoyed.
"Don't worry."
"Worry about what?"
I leaned forward slightly and winked. "I won't tell Teresa. I have no desire of being the one to break those news to her." I grinned. "That will be entirely your honor."
Teresa
I furiously combed my hair, still damp from the shower. My locks were particularly untameable tonight and this was enough to fill me with irritation.
I sighed, putting my comb down, and beheld my reflection in the mirror. I hadn't been resting well, dark circles under my eyes betrayed so. My lips were dry, the lines more prominent than usual, a result of the salty ocean climate. I was certainly not at my best appearances. And even at my best, I wasn't beautiful in the conventional sense, I admitted. My face, without doubt, had its flaws.
But I definitely wasn't so damned unappealing for him to avoid so much as looking at me.
I had to admit, my hair was not the only cause for my frustration. In fact, it was the least part of it. A certain blue-eyed blond was the major culprit.
I had no clue what his problem was. Ever since the night of the hurricane he'd withdrawn entirely from me. At first, I had justified it as embarrassment. He regretted sharing his life's story with a person he barely knew. But then he didn't exactly strike me as the kind of man that wasted time being embarrassed of things. In fact, his entire attitude screamed pride and confidence. So it had to be our intimacy he regretted and hence he wanted to make it clear he wasn't interested.
I couldn't help but be stung by his attitude. I knew I should be relieved instead. After all, the thought of having a real marriage was... overwhelming. Still, I wanted him to find me desirable. Every woman wanted this kind of affirmation from her man, didn't she? But then, he was not my man, not in the true sense. Any sort of attraction could prove entirely dangerous. Because it could lead nowhere. I often had to remind myself of this important fact. It had become rather annoying.
I knew that he came late at night to sleep in our bed, but I never managed to meet him, not at night and not in the morning either. The only clue he left behind was a crumpled pillow and his discarded previous day's outfit. So tonight I was determined to stay awake and wait for him.
And quite sure, he entered the stateroom some time after midnight. I was still sitting at my vanity table, as I was afraid of falling asleep if I lay in bed. I had managed to distract myself with a book and so I was genuinely startled when he opened the door.
I read the microexpression of surprise in his face before his usual, casual look slid into place.
"Sorry," he said. "I thought you'd be sleeping."
"Thought or hoped?" I asked.
His pupils moved sideways, as though he hadn't understood my comment. "Well I hoped I wouldn't wake you, if that's what you mean." He huffed a short laugh.
I closed the book with a thud. His smile disappeared.
I stood up and held his eyes firmly. "You've spent most of this journey avoiding me. We haven't had a single conversation that lasted more than five minutes. If there's a problem between us, I need to know it."
He lifted his shoulders. "I thought you wanted to spend time with your friend."
My temper ignited. "You sneak in our bedroom late at night to avoid talking to me, don't play the fool with me," I accused.
He smiled. "That's absurd."
I searched in his eyes, determined to get the truth out of him.
"If this is about some arrogant impression that I'll grow attached to you, know that a, you're an idiot, and b, I'm stronger than that."
He stared at me, finally serious. "What if I am afraid I'll grow attached to you?" he asked.
My eyes widened in surprise. I immediately took him by suspicion, as the alternative would be to believe him, and that felt risky to my heart. My head turned to the side, my eyes narrowed. "I think you're trying to flatter me to dodge giving me a real answer."
"Why? Is it so surprising that I'd be attracted to you?" There was no sign of jesting in his expression.
I opened my mouth to talk but my voice stumbled in my throat. My cheeks became feverish.
I swallowed. "Like I said, you're diverting the conversation," I managed to utter. I strained to remember what my arguing point was. Finally, it came to me.
"We're married. Part of the deal was to act like it. At least until we settle matters in Boston. Or have you forgotten about that?"
"I haven't forgotten."
"I don't know. It feels like you're planning to leave the moment we disembark this ship," I pointed out.
"Well, I'm not going to."
My thoughts immediately flew to my niece. This was bigger than me or him, I reminded myself. If she turned out to be sick, I'd need him to stay to assist me in finding the best doctors and obtaining the medicine she would need. I couldn't afford him being on the verge of abandoning me at first chance.
"Good. Because I need your utter devotion until we see this through. And that means you can't run at the first misfortune that finds us," I said vaguely, again feeling precautious about mentioning the existence of my niece.
It was the wrong thing to say.
"What misfortune could find us?" he asked.
I lifted my shoulders, shaking my head. "I don't know. It's a big city," I answered. I did the mistake to immediately avert my eyes.
"London's a big city," he returned.
"Well, not as big as Boston," I argued, though I knew I was sounding like a child.
I lowered my eyes to the floor. Suddenly his hand was under my chin, softly raising it.
"I'm going to ask you again, Teresa," he said, withdrawing his hand and pinning me instead with his gaze. "Why did you marry me?"
Words had dried in my throat. His proximity had wiped my mind of all thoughts.
"To protect my inheritance," I blurted out.
"And?" he prodded.
"To prevent uncle Volker from taking my custody."
"And what other reason did you have?" he insisted.
"I've already told you."
"Ah yes, an old brother waiting for you in Boston. Though if I remember correctly, Madeleine only mentioned a younger brother." He shook his head, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Teresa, I hope you give me more credit than to repeat this lie to me."
Guilt and shame consumed me. Of course he knew I'd lied to him. How silly of me to believe otherwise.
I shook my head. "I don't understand, if you knew I had lied to you, why didn't you say so?"
He shrugged. "I knew it would come out sooner or later. No offense, but you're kind of transparent, incapable of dublicity."
I frowned. "Thanks, I guess."
He stood there, waiting. My eyes flitted around, searching for an escape, though it became clearer by the moment that I would have to confront him.
I sighed, closed my eyes.
"I also married you to protect my brother's daughter, Annabeth. Her mother died from cholera and her father is also most probably assumed dead by the disease. Her babysitter took her under her care for now, until I arrive in Boston."
His long silence prompted me to open my eyes.
"How old is she?" he asked.
"She should be eight by now."
He nodded, then smiled at the ceiling, as though there was some inside joke I was unaware of. He shook his head.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted the old lady," he remarked.
The way he said 'old lady' made me feel protective of my grandmother. I raised my chin. "Mr. Jane," I addressed him formally, "I assure you you won't have to do anything outside your deal with Madam."
"Don't you see?" he burst. "Your niece is almost around the same age that my daughter was when she died. Your grandmother knew I wouldn't be able to deny a little girl my protection should she depend on it."
"Why is that so bad?" I contradicted. "All you would need to do is stay for a few more days to ensure her good health and then you'd be free to go where the wind takes you."
"No, I can't afford to lose focus or be sentimental," he raised his voice, lifting his finger to point at me. "I told you! As soon as your legal advisors take over your care, I'll be on my way chasing after Red John. You know that, Teresa. You know it!"
"You can't let vengeance steal away your soul! If you lose yourself, then this Red John will have already won!" I burst out.
"Oh please, spare me the life advice."
"It's true, you can't just throw your entire life away!"
He shook his head, his lips open as words fought to come out. "You don't understand, Teresa. I'm done," he uttered. His eyebrows curved up, his eyes widened. It actually pained me to hear the utter finality in his voice, this complete abandonment of hope and life.
"You don't have to pity me," he said with a sad smile. "I've chosen my fate. I will catch the monster. What becomes of me in the aftermath is of little importance to me."
"You don't mean that."
"Oh I do."
He turned around, picked up his bedroll and walked out of the room, leaving me staring at an empty door.
For some reason, my eyes watered. My heart shattered for this broken man and the cruelty life had treated him with. And for the first time, I felt scared. For a very brief moment, I glimpsed into a future where he wasn't there and I felt awfully hollow. I shook the feeling immediately, blaming it on my sleep deprivation.
I lay in my bed and whispered a prayer for him. That he would find peace and that God would protect him despite the dark path he was sworn to walk on. I then wondered whether he believed in a God himself.
I tossed and turned with these thoughts for almost an hour. Sleep eluded me.
Until the soft click of the door came in the quiet.
I lifted my head and squinted in the dim light inside the room. He was already kneeling by my side at the floor, startling me. I took a sharp breath, then searched his eyes.
"Is everything alright?" I mumbled.
He nodded. I nodded back. There was an awkward quiet for a moment.
"I came to apologize," he said, boring into my eyes. "I'm sorry that I yelled at you. I wasn't thinking clearly."
I nodded. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about my niece," I apologized in return.
He accepted my apology with a nod.
It was quiet again.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked then with casualness in his voice.
"I shouldn't have drunk that last cup of coffee," I admitted. "Wait, does that mean you're no longer going to avoid me?" I asked then, remembering where this entire thing had started.
He raised his palm. "I promise, no more avoiding."
I smiled. I shouldn't feel so happy or relieved. But I did.
"Good. I'm pleased I'm not going to be the reason you suffer major backpains," I quipped to lighten the atmosphere.
He smiled. "I appreciate your concern, but…" He hesitated, his eyes growing sober. "I wouldn't like to ruin your comfort… my friend."
I frowned. "Don't be silly."
"Well, regardless, it would be wise for us not to share a bed."
The way he phrased it made my heart pound in my chest.
"You sleep here every night."
"It's different if you're asleep."
"Why?"
"Last time I checked, it wasn't exactly polite to lie down with a woman you're not… intimate with."
My cheeks burned. Of all the things, this was the last one I expected to come out of his lips. A prickling warmth shot down my lower parts. I tossed slightly in my position. My voice was husky when I spoke.
"Are you telling me you should exercise… your rights as my husband first?"
"If I was to share such an intimate space with you, yes," he said in a level tone. "But I won't." He raised his palm. "Not that you're not an attractive woman. On the contrary, I think you could have anyone you wished to. It's just, I think we both know it would unnecessarily complicate things."
His gaze was open, sincere. My brain had turned into a puddle. How quickly things had escalated. How had I let the conversation take such an impossible route? First he was explaining why he wouldn't sleep with me and now it sounded like he was apologizing for not honoring his marital duties. Despite finding me attractive? The compliment had stuck in my mind. I was too shy to ask for clarifications.
I cleared my throat. "That's quite… honorable of you," I almost whispered, afraid that my voice would sound too brittle.
He smiled then. "I can help you if you like."
His change in mood left me disoriented. Was he really offering to quell my carnal thoughts? "With what?"
"Sleeping."
His answer worked like medicine, pulling me out of my erotic disposition. I turned my head to the side. "How?"
"I have this nice ability to hypnotize people."
Certainly your looks have nothing to do with that, I thought. I immediately blushed.
"No, thanks," I said pointedly.
His smiled broadened. It was mesmerizing. Once again, I caught myself staring.
"What about you? Why aren't you sleeping?" I asked to distract myself.
"Me? Insomnia is my best friend," he said humorously.
His words echoed the damage in his soul, reminding me of my earlier worries.
"Patrick?" I asked.
"Yes?"
"I believe we are friends," I started.
He smiled. "We are."
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise that you won't leave without saying goodbye," I said, struggling to keep my voice light.
He stared at me in silence. "I promise... my dear friend."
And then, quite unexpectedly, he started leaning over me, warning me with his eyes. I stopped breathing, watching his face inch closer to mine. His lips came to rest on my forehead. It was a soft kiss. I felt like a child being tucked into bed.
I was having none of that. My curiosity flared, overriding all caution. Before he could pull back, I clasped the lapels of his shirt and leaned up.
My mouth lightly brushed over his. I felt his surprise. He touched my elbow, as though he would push me away, but then his hand simply stayed there. His eyelids fell shut. His day-old stub brushed my skin. It was a featherlight touch, over within the space of a heartbeat. I jerked back, as awareness set in me.
His breath washed over my face. I looked at him with eyes wide-open. His eyes, on the other hand, were dark and hungry. My pulse quickened. I opened my mouth to say something, but he clasped my chin, turning my mind blank.
His mouth came hard on top of mine. He kissed me with absolute possesion, coaxing my lips open. My breath became rugged, my passion ignited. I grabbed the side of his face, my fingers tangling with his luscious hair. This seemed to bring him more confidence, as his tongue swept inside to mate with mine. Our scents mingled. The kiss became too intimate, too consuming. I clung to him as he gently ravished me. I never wanted him to stop.
He ended the kiss abruptly. We were both out of breath. My heart thundered in my chest, my body entirely overwhelmed. I could still feel the heat of his mouth on my lips. His appearance didn't help matters. His hair was disheveled, his eyes misty. His voice sounded throaty.
"You're dangerous, lady," he breathed, before he got up, grabbed his things once again, and stormed out of the room.
A/N: I am sorry I took so long to write this. The world was a crazy place this past month and it was hard to focus on writing fanfiction. I hope this chapter has justified your waiting. And again thanks for your comments and thanks for insisting on me updating this. It really helps sometimes.
