A Jar of Dreams Page 3

  “Maria?” Anne chuckled.

  “Yeah, honey. Now, you let that handsome man help you out of this bus because I ain’t want to see Rod’s big fat black ass shift out of his seat.”

  The passengers roared with laughter, much to the amusement of Rod.

  “You know, I don’t usually agree with Maria,” Rodney chirped in with a grin. “But the bus is quite full today. Why don’t you let the man give you a hand? ”

  Anne nodded her head and smiled. Eric stepped before her. His skin prickled as he brushed past her. He tensed. How was he going to guide her out of this damned bus with absolute sanity if he shivered at the mere touch of her skin?

  He let her feel for his elbow and she took it gratefully. He led her out of the crowded bus and it took him immense courage to not simply sweep her into his arms and carry her out the doorway like he wanted to.

  “Thanks, again,” she said as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

  “You getting back on, mister?” Rod asked.

  “No, this is my stop,” he replied hesitantly.

  “Take care, Anne,” Rod said as he closed the doors.

  The bus drifted back slowly on its route, leaving an odor of its exhaust fumes behind it.

  “Well, I would say I’d see you again, but I can’t.” Anne smiled.

  “Excuse me,” he stammered.

  “I was teasing,” she explained. “You know, I’m blind if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Right… yeah,” he said awkwardly.

  She played with the head of her cane, supposedly feeling just as awkward.

  “Well, goodbye then,” she said and turned around to walk away.

  He floundered back and forth. Who was he kidding? He wasn’t ready to just let her walk away. It surprised him that even after fifteen years, she continued to make his heart pound like she did the first time he had seen her. He had thought he was well over her. After all, he had indulged in several relationships after her, no longer the shy teen afraid to ask a girl out for a date. He became widely known as a Don Juan, and he savored the popularity and gifts the women showered upon him. That was until someone handed him a gun and challenged him to shoot an empty can placed fifty paces away. It was then he found a new obsession and every other passion paled before it. At least, he had thought it had. He stared after Anne helplessly.

  “Wait,” he called out to her.

  She stopped and he jogged up to her.

  “Will you be okay?” he asked.

  “I will be fine,” she assured. “I know you may be concerned for me in light of my situation. And believe me, I do appreciate that you care. But I really will be okay. I live here. I know perfectly well where I am going.”

  He smiled. “Do you always talk so much?”

  She chuckled. “I suppose I am weighed slightly more in my sense of speech than my eyes.”

  He grinned. “No doubt about that.”

  “You might want to wipe that grin off first before you ask me any further questions,” she teased.

  “How did you know…?” he asked with surprise.

  “The little flexion in your voice.”

  “What little flexion?”

  “It’s hard to explain. All I can say is when you lose one sense, the others are heightened.”

  He nodded. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  They stood awkwardly again in short silence, uncertain how to break away from each other.

  “Umm, I have to go,” she started, biting her lips.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  She tilted her head as if giving it some thought. “No,” she said at last. “Do you live here?”

  “I’m intending to,” he said, walking beside her.

  “Are you looking around for a place to stay or have you found one?”

  “I’m looking still. Do you know any place I could rent for a while?”

  She stopped as she fidgeted with the head of her cane again. “No.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s okay. I’ll find something.”

  She lowered her head. “I’m sure you will. I would have to leave you here though. This is my house.”

  He glanced up disappointedly at the cute cottage nestled in the cul-de-sac of the street. “Oh… yeah. I’ll see you around then.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for walking me home.”

  “It’s no big deal. I enjoyed your company.”

  “See you around,” she said as she walked into her pathway leading up to her house, tapping the end of her walking stick against the pavers.

  “Bye.”

  “I’m sorry, I never asked for your name,” she said, stopping and turning suddenly.

  He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. What name should he give her? He used to be known as Ricky Tanner when he had first met her fifteen years ago. But as an assassin, he was notoriously known as Ricky Prescott, The Runner.

  “I’m Eric… Eric Tanner.” His real name, he swallowed. Had he just made a mistake?

  “And I’m Anne Mullen.” She smiled. “Nice meeting you, Eric Tanner.”

  “Nice meeting you too, Anne.” His eyes roved over her face, unable to tear himself away from her. It was the first time he had called her by her name. It was the first time she had spoken his. He must be such a sentimental fool if he allowed such petty matters to create that warm fuzzy feeling he was feeling in his chest again.

  She smiled to herself as she walked on to her door. It was long since any man made her quiver at her knees. The last time she felt this way was when a boy called Ricky saved her from a group of street louts who had nothing better to do than to taunt and tease her. She shivered at the mere memory of them, their voices ringing with their teasing and jeering. They hurt more because she couldn’t put faces to them like she could when she was much younger.

  She opened her door and a familiar purring greeted her. “Hey, Boots,” she said softly. “How did you spend your day?” The little ginger cat rubbed against her ankles and she happily picked him up into her arms. “You haven’t been naughty, have you?” She cuddled the cat and settled into one end of the sofa. “Did you meet anyone? I did. Maria said he was handsome. I don’t know about that, but he did have a beautiful voice.”

  She ran her fingers through Boots’ thick coat. She never usually spoke so freely to a strange man. But there was something familiar about Eric Tanner. He gave her the same vibes Ricky once did. When he caught her from falling and when she touched his arm, a shot of adrenaline had shot through her nerves, prickling her skin. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him. But who would want a blind girlfriend by his side?

  She sighed, burying her face into Boots’s coat. He was just a dream she would probably never achieve. “I’m being silly, aren’t I Boots? He was only being nice. He must probably have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for him back home. Perhaps, even a wife.”

  Boots purred and licked her neck.

  “Yeah, right. I know what you’re doing. You’re feeling sorry for me. I think I’ve had enough of pity today. First him and then you.” She sat the cat down on the sofa and stood up. “What shall we have for dinner now? How about I whip a quick stir fry?”

  She walked over to the kitchen and directly over to the fridge. She had long wanted to be independent, although everyone who cared about her didn’t think she ever could be. Her aide, Lucy certainly had thought she would never be able to manage efficiently on her own. While she loved Lucy, her over-protection had stifled her. Even her late mother would probably have given her more leeway had it not been for Lucy’s constant anxious intrusions all through her life. Finally, she had to put her foot down and tell everyone that if they didn’t support her independence, she would have to consider getting it on her own. Fortunately, her threat worked and her very wealthy CEO dad bought her this little cottage at the end of the street of a quiet and friendly cul-de-sac.

  She worked her way through the kitchen, preparing her di
nner. Not many had faith she would be able to cook also. She breathed in the delicious aroma of the stir-fry infusing her small kitchen. She enjoyed cooking. She loved how she could use her remaining senses to create her own meals without having to resort to pre-packaged food or take-outs.

  “Do you think we’ll meet again, Boots?” she asked the cat as she reached for a plate to dish out her food.

  A sudden heaviness enveloped her as she stood by the kitchen-bench holding onto her plate. Why would he bother?

  Eric caught a cab and headed to the first diner he saw. He alighted from the cab, making certain he paid in cash. Credit cards could always be tracked. But even without this mess, he rarely used one, preferring the anonymity of his existence.

  He strolled into the crowded diner and ordered a large roast turkey burger and a basket of fries. He was famished. He hadn’t eaten much all day and he had scarcely realized it while he had been busily caught up in his fascination for Anne Mullen.

  Even as he ate, he couldn’t help but think about her instead of what was more important- finding the fuck who took a contract out to kill him. There would always be a twisted fucked-up bastard wishing he was dead, he decided as he wiped his mouth with a serviette. Common sense told him to get away from Anne as far as possible. She consumed too much of his thoughts. But something nagged at him to visit her again.

  Across him, a boy of about twelve years played with his food.

  “Ketch… ketch… ketch-up,” he stuttered with frustration. He banged his fork on his plate repeatedly.

  “You have enough ketch-up on your plate, Taylor,” his mother said, trying desperately to calm him down.

  “No… more… more… more.”

  His parents seemed distraught and embarrassed, doing their best to ease their autistic son’s anxiety.

  A man looked up from his meal, an annoyed look spread across his face. Eric eyed the man quietly. The man moved restlessly, giving the family vicious stares. He predicted that the guy was going to erupt sooner or later. He lowered his head and paid attention to his food instead. This was not his problem, he repeated to himself as he bit into a potato fry.

  “Will you shut the fucking kid up?!” the man screamed at the parents.

  “I’m sorry,” the mother chirped in quickly before her husband could say anything. “We’re doing our best. He’s autistic.”

  “Well, if he’s fucked in the head, he shouldn’t be here!”

  “Hey, man,” said another male customer. “Leave that family alone. They deserve to be here as much as you do.”

  “I come here to eat. Not to be entertained by this lame freak show.”

  “Don’t talk like that, man. He’s just a kid.”

  “I’ll talk however the fuck I want, faggot. Why don’t you come and try and stop me?!” The man clenched his teeth angrily.

  “Listen, we don’t want any problems.” The father stood up quickly. “We’ll just leave.”

  “No, you don’t have to go,” the other customer said. “It’s this asshole who needs to leave.”

  The patrons in the diner let out a murmur of agreement, antagonizing the man even more.

  “How about I kick the shit out of you?” The man balled his fist in anger.

  “Yeah, you go Davey!” his two friends cheered him on.

  The man grinned and made to grab the customer’s collar.

  “Please, let it go. We’ll leave,” the father said hurriedly, his panic evident in his voice.

  Something unfurled inside Eric and he stood up abruptly, grating his chair loudly against the floor.

  “Ooooooh, here’s another one,” the man mocked. “And what do you think you’re going to do?”

  “Just leave that family alone, okay?” Eric said quietly.

  “And what if I don’t? What then?” The man poked his finger into Eric’s chest.

  Eric’s face darkened. He lowered his eyes, struggling to steady his voice without revealing the anger fueling inside him. “Don’t do that,” he mumbled.

  The man stared at him with an open jaw and then let out a hysterical laugh. “Or you’ll do what? Fight me? You. Don’t. Know. Who. You’re. Talking to,” he said as he jabbed his finger repeatedly into Eric’s chest.

  “Yes, I do,” Eric replied. “You’re Davey.” And with a quick swift of his hand, he slapped the man in the chest, boxed his ears and punched his nose.

  The man doubled in pain, his shock clearly registering on his face.

  His friends scrambled over to help him out the door with dumbfounded and wary glances at Eric. The diner rang with a blistering roar of claps and approval from the other patrons.

  “Damn, that was awesome!” the male customer grinned.

  “Thanks,” Eric muttered as he gathered his bags, wanting to make a quick exit as soon as possible. He didn’t want anyone etching his face into their memory. Although it might probably be hard to remove such an ear-popping memory from the mind of the pathetic ass riding out of the diner car park at that very moment, he thought. He caught sight of the man’s motorbike leaving behind a cloud of smoke and dust through the diner window. Eric could only hope his good deed would not come back to bite him.

  “Thank you,” the father said quickly before he could leave. “Standing up for my family like that… it means a lot to both my wife and me.”

  “You should thank that guy over there.” Eric nodded at the male customer, now settled back in his chair, excitedly re-enacting his moves. “He stood up for you before anyone did. And it takes a whole lotta courage to make the first stand.”

  “And I will,” the father said. He glanced over Eric’s clothes and the bags he was carrying. “Are you new in town?”

  Eric didn’t answer, moving instead towards the door.

  “Listen, I didn’t mean to pry,” the father said, coming after him. “Here, this is my card. If you need anything… anything at all, just call me.”

  Eric took the card reluctantly, giving it a short glance. John Adelstein, Director, Adelstein Constructions Pty Ltd.

  “Thanks,” Eric mumbled, tucking the card into his shirt pocket. There was nothing he would need from John Adelstein. He made a note to chuck it away as soon as he was a polite distance away from the diner.

  “You’re strong. I could always need a man like you,” John Adelstein said with a smile.

  Eric nodded and walked out the door. There was something else on his mind. He suddenly understood why Anne nagged at his thoughts. He realized also why his rage surged through him the minute that man stood up to abuse that family. He remembered how Anne had been taunted by that group of boys fifteen years ago. Perhaps, he was only being protective of her, but he just needed to see her one more time, before he could leave this place forever.

  CHAPTER 4

  He stood across her house, wondering what he was to do. Should he knock on her door?

  The street lamp at the end of the street lit up the cul-de-sac. Taking care that he wouldn’t be misunderstood for a voyeur or a burglar, he took cover under a tree, hoping its trunk would disguise his shadow.

  It was a quiet piece of suburb and he could understand why she wanted to live here. Other than the buzzing of the bugs dazed by the street lights, and screeching of the bats flying over the woods bordering close-by, nothing else penetrated the silence in this little part of Boston. It was so quiet, it was almost perfect. Who would want to come looking for an assassin in a place like this?

  His eyes scoured the windows and his fingers twitched anxiously. If she lived alone, he could slip into an empty room and hide out for a period until he learned more about Cavallo’s contract to kill him. No one back in New York would ever link him and Anne together. He had never spoken about her. She would be safe.

  He looked about him, making certain he wasn’t spotted and then raced towards the tree-line of the woods. He slipped under the cover of the trees until he came around the back of Anne’s property. He knew blind people often used guide dogs. But each time he had seen Anne
, she had been without one. Nevertheless, he strained his ear against the wall fencing her house, attentive to any sounds that resembled that of a canine. There was nothing.

  He gauged the tall walls and then trusting his years of parkour practice, he grasped onto the grooves in the brick wall and clambered over it as quietly as he could. He dropped to the other side, crouching as low as possible. The scent of night jasmine hit him. Even in the dim light of the moon, he could tell this would be a beautiful garden by the day. There must be someone who came to tend to it, he thought. Perhaps, this isn’t a good idea after all.

  Her bedroom window was open, he noticed.

  “Boots,” she called out from it. “Boots, where are you?”

  Boots? He better damned well be not a dog, he swore to himself.

  A cat purred by his feet, rubbing itself against his ankle.

  “Boots? Come, boy.”

  The cat purred again at his feet and he carefully lifted it up, scaled up a trellis and placed it on her window sill.

  “Boots!” she growled. “You naughty cat. I need to close up and go to bed. And I can’t leave you wandering outside like a stray.”

  She reached over to pick the cat up. Her blonde hair fell long and loose by her shoulders, veiling the silhouette of her breasts beneath her thin night-dress.

  He stared at her, frozen at his feet and unable to shift his gaze away from her. She was so close, he only had to lift himself up by the sill and kiss her. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as she. In the light of the moon, she looked even more enchanting. Never did a woman take his breath away as she did.

  She stepped a little away from the window and he took his chance, hopping lightly into her room. She stopped, her body tensing as she turned back towards the window.

  “Who’s there?” she said softly.

  Had she heard him? Did she know he was there?

  She scrambled towards him with her arms reaching out.

  “Is anyone there?” she said again.

  He darted beneath her arms and tip-toed softly out of her bedroom. He didn’t want to alarm her. But the fact that she did leave her window open, nagged at him annoyingly. If he could walk into her house without her knowing, then anyone could have. He wished he could tell her to be more careful. He wished he could cradle her head against his chest and tell her she would be fine as long as he was with her. He sighed and treaded quietly around the house, searching for the presence of anyone else.