He kisses my neck, and I close my eyes, gripping the counter tightly. He marked me last night, like we were some reckless teenagers, leaving love-bites all over. I spent most of the day trying to hide them from people.
“I’ve made so many mistakes,” he says, his voice barely a breath against my skin, “but I’m not going to make those mistakes again.”
“I want to believe you,” I whisper.
I turn my head, glancing back at him, as he leans forward, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“I should get out of here,” he says. “It’s late, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than humor me.”
I don’t argue, nor do I try to stop him, although I think that's what he wants. He walks away, heading to the living room, where Maddie is still asleep. Curious, I follow, lingering near the front door as he kneels and brushes the hair from her face to kiss her forehead. “Sorry I fucked up tonight, little one.”
He starts toward the door, eyeing me warily as I block his path. He brushes past me, but before he can go, I say, “They’ll recognize you.”
“What?”
“At the convention,” I say. “People will know who you are. How are you going to shield her… how will you protect her?”
“That won’t be a problem. Nobody will know.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He laughs as he opens the front door. “That’s what cosplay is for.”
Chapter 16
JONATHAN
Knightmare.
Breezeo’s archenemy.
Where Breezeo is light, a breath of fresh air, the nice breeze on a warm summer day, Knightmare is the storm that rolls in and takes it all away. Darkness, thick and suffocating, the shadows you can’t escape in the night in back alleyways.
Black leather framed with dark armor, head to toe, from the combat boots the whole way up to the oversized black hood with a metal mask covering part of the face, rendering him unrecognizable.
I’ve always been envious of the costume.
Beats the damn pseudo-spandex, that’s for sure.
“I, uh, wow.” Kennedy stands in the doorway of her apartment with a look of awe as her eyes scan the costume. “That’s just… wow.”
“Wow, huh?” I glance down. “Good or bad?”
“It’s just, uh, you know…”
“Wow?” I guess.
She nods, fighting off a smile. “Wow.”
I smirk. “It’s the original.”
“Seriously?”
“Straight from the second movie,” I say, touching an armored chest plate with a fingerless glove-clad hand. “Well, except for these gloves. The real ones wouldn’t fit because of the cast, so I had to improvise.”
“It’s, uh…”
“Wow?”
“Nice,” she says, touching the costume, fingertips grazing the armor. “Kind of weird seeing you like this, but still, it’s nice.”
“Thanks,” I say as she steps aside for me to come in the apartment. “I talked them into letting me borrow it. Might not give it back, though. I’m kind of enjoying it.”
“You should keep it,” she says, her eyes still scanning me as she closes the door. “It’s, uh…”
“Nice?”
“Wow.” She smiles playfully as she walks away. “I need to finish getting ready for work. Maddie, you've got a visitor!”
A moment after Kennedy disappears, Madison runs in. She skids to a stop when she spots me, eyes wide, mouth popping open. “Whoa.”
I push the hood off, shoving the mask up, her expression changing when she sees it’s me, face lighting up. She runs right at me, slamming into me so hard I stumble.
I laugh as she hugs me. “Hey, pretty girl.”
She looks up at me. “You think I’m pretty?”
“What? Of course.” I kneel next to her, grinning as I press a finger to the tip of her nose. “You look like your mom.”
“You think Mommy’s pretty, too?”
“I think she's the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Her expression shifts rapidly when I say that before her eyes widen. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne?”
I lean closer, whispering, repeating her words. “Even more beautifuler than Maryanne.”
“Whoa.”
Smiling, I hold a bag out to her. “I brought you something. Thought maybe you’d want to wear it today.”
She grabs it, not hesitating as she yanks everything out, gasping. She discards the empty bag as she runs off to her bedroom, nearly slamming into Kennedy in the hallway.
“Careful,” Kennedy says. “Where are you running off to?”
“No time, Mommy! Gotta get ready!”
“Well, then.” Kennedy stares at her until she disappears, before turning to me as she runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it up. “You sure you can handle this?”
“I deal with vultures from Hollywood Chronicles,” I say. “I can handle whatever she throws at me.”
Kennedy doesn’t look convinced. “I heard you caught an assault charge two years ago from punching one of them.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“The front of Hollywood Chronicles.”
I shake my head. “Those charges were dropped.”
“Because you were innocent?”
“More like they were just as guilty.”
Kennedy rolls her eyes but doesn’t have the chance to say anything. Footsteps run our direction, an excited voice screeching, “Ta-da!”
Madison stands there, grinning wildly, clad in the little white and blue getup—a Breezeo costume. They’re bringing them out for Halloween but I managed to snag one early.
“Wow, look at you!” Kennedy says, smoothing Madison’s hair. “Prettiest Breezeo I’ve ever seen.”
“Jonathan thinks I’m pretty, too!” she says, smiling at her mother. “He told me so!”
“Did he?” Kennedy asks. “Smart man.”
“And you, too,” she says. “He says you’re the beautifulest woman in all the world.”
Damn. She ratted me out.
Kennedy seems taken aback.
“Well, that was nice of him,” Kennedy says. “I have to get going. You have fun, okay? And be good.”
“I will.”
She kisses the top of Madison’s head. “Love you more than Saturday mornings.”
“Love you, too,” Madison says, “more than even costumes and them other things.”
Madison grabs my hand.
“I’ll bring her back tonight,” I say, “fingers and toes still attached.”
Kennedy won’t look at me. I can tell she’s anxious, so I don’t linger, leading Madison outside. The town car is idling in the parking lot, the driver leaning against it as he waits. He smiles when we approach and opens the back door, but Madison drags her feet.
“Is he your friend?” she asks, looking at me.
“Why?”
“Grandpa says not to get in cars with strangers.”
“Oh, yeah, I know him,” I say. “He’s safe.”
She climbs into the car, and I buckle her into a booster seat as I sit beside her. As the car pulls away, I see Kennedy watching us from the front door of the apartment.
Madison chatters the entire drive to the convention center, telling stories, and I listen dutifully. She’s bursting with excitement by the time we arrive, but I’m somewhere on edge. While I was promised discretion, confidentiality agreements tossed around like candy at a parade, I know things don’t always go according to plan.
The car takes us straight to the back entrance, past the awaiting crowds. A woman meets us in an attached garage, one of the event coordinators, along with a small security detail. She smiles when we get out of the car. “Mr. Cunning! And Miss, uh…”