Shadow Lover (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 18

  Chyna turned for her climb up the little slope leading to Cat's Paw, then turned at one point high above the beach and looked far down the sandy strip at the huge rock that had been their meeting place. The pounding surf was so wild and wonderful—just like her love for Kirk.

  Chapter 16

  Kirk was angled back in a large, brown leather chair looking up into bright lights, a huge magnifying glass, and a camera that seemed to be glaring at him with one eye. The doctor sat on a stool adjacent to him squinting through a large, amplified glass. With antiseptic hands he probed, stretched, and moved his fingers roughly across Kirk's scarred face. After a while he pushed the larger glass aside and fit a small, black instrument against one eye for closer work.

  "You know," the doctor said as his eyes and fingers moved together across Kirk's face, "You've gotta be the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the earth."

  "Doc," Kirk began, while blinking up into the bright lights. "I think you're a little confused here. Good luck is if I had never gotten into that car. This—" he said, pointing to his face, "—this is what you call bad luck. See the difference?"

  The doctor chuckled, pulling away. "Oh, sorry, I didn't understand. Glad you could straighten me out on that."

  While extracting the black object from his eye, he lifted his hand and turned off the lights, then sat looking at Kirk. "What I mean is, it could have been a whole hell of a lot worse." He paused, taking off his antiseptic gloves, then raised his eyes, looking curiously at Kirk. "Personally, I don't know how in God's name you came away from that accident without being decapitated, your throat cut, or at the very least blinded. Someone had to be looking after you."

  “Someone was looking after me?” Kirk said excitedly. “I’ve spent ten years in a friggin’ basement, and you think someone was watching out for me?” Kirk cast the doctor a wry smile. “You get funnier all the time.”

  “That’s another thing, Kirk,” the doctor said, while adjusting the camera and puttering around. “Why wait ten years to get this work done? Why didn’t you look into this in the beginning?”

  Kirk shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of things, I guess. According to the doctor I was in shock and they couldn’t operate. I was miserable. Looking like a monster, and feeling like one. That’s when the depression started. It was serious enough for the surgery to be rescheduled. Before I knew it, ten years had passed. By that time I figured it was too late.”

  “Why the hell would you think that? I mean, I work with faces that have had years of sun damage, years of getting old and wrinkled. Good grief, Kirk, there’s no time limit on cosmetic surgery. If there was, we’d all be out of business.”

  Kirk’s eyes shadowed with pain. “Hell, I knew that. Maybe a shrink would tell me that subconsciously I was punishing myself for killing my parents. All I know is I set my own limitations. I was determined not to allow myself any happiness. I didn’t feel I deserved it—hadn’t suffered enough.”

  “Hadn’t suffered enough? Good God man, you were practically torn apart, and you felt you hadn’t suffered enough?”

  “I know I was stupid, but the truth is, the longer I stayed down in that hole, the easier it got.”

  “What do you mean?” the doctor asked, trying to understand.

  “Do you know what it’s like, facing the world after staying buried in a hole for ten years—or one even—or two? As long as I stayed down there, I didn’t have to worry about the world at large, or adjusting. After a while I was hiding out from the world, from everything. Hell I don’t know, it’s all so damned confusing.” He looked up at the doctor. “What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know how the hell I’m going to adjust. I mean, the world has changed so much.” Kirk looked around at all the machinery. “Look at all these gadgets,” he said, his eyes jumping from one sleek device to another. “Whatever happened to a simple examination and then a scalpel?”

  The doctor smiled. “These are not toys, Kirk. They help me do my job. Progress, you’ve heard of it.”

  “Sure, I’ve heard of it, but don’t you see what I’m saying? Ten years—ten friggin’ years, a decade of my life is gone. The world is a new place."

  "So the hell what?” the doctor said, sliding onto the stool opposite Kirk and leaning toward him. “It's better than two decades—three—your whole life being gone, isn’t it? Kirk, don’t you see, dammit? You’re doing it again. Setting limitations. Hell, adjusting is nothing. Besides, did it ever occur to you that if this whole thing hadn't happened, you might never have met Chyna? When you left school you would have become the hot shot lawyer you kept telling everyone you were gonna be, right? The next step would’ve been marriage with a girl that would’ve taken everything you made in alimony. But, as it happened you buried yourself, shying away from any kind of human contact. Then Chyna comes along and takes an interest in you—hell even falls in love with you. Maybe it couldn't have happened any other way." When he saw Kirk considering what he was saying, he got up and went over to his computer. "Anyway, I still stick with my original opinion. Any man with Chyna Marsh in his bed is one lucky son of a bitch, no matter what it took to get her there." The doctor began punching keys then looked over at his patient. "Look into the camera, Kirk." When Kirk glanced into the camera lens, the doctor's fingers played over the keys until he was satisfied. He looked back over at Kirk. "So, you had to give up ten years of your life to find the woman of your dreams." The doctor cut his eyes over at him. "Wasn't she worth it?"

  Kirk looked over at the doctor and frowned suspiciously. "What in hell are you saying?"

  "Wasn't she friggin' worth it? You know, between the sheets."

  Kirk jumped up. "You lousy son of a bitch. I don't like your suggestive remarks."

  "All right, calm down, Romeo, I didn't mean anything by it. I'm just complimenting your taste in women."

  "Yeah? Well, you could have just given me a thumbs up or something."

  The doctor smiled, punched a key, and a picture of Kirk crept out of a machine. Walking over and picking up the picture, he turned to Kirk with a thumbs up gesture—concerning both matters.

  * * * *

  Chyna stood out in front of The Sea Shadows Inn waiting for Kirk. Finally a cab pulled up and she noticed someone getting out. Watching him while he leaned over to pay the cabby, Chyna couldn't help noticing how handsome he was. Finally pulling her eyes away, she looked down the street, still looking for Kirk. Suddenly she heard a voice behind her.

  "Going my way?"

  She turned and looked up into the flashing blue eyes of the man that got out of the cab and almost fainted. It was Kirk. Her eyes scanned his face. "My God, Kirk, your face, what…"

  Kirk looked around at the staring people. "We're making a scene. Let's step inside, and I'll tell you everything."

  As they walked Chyna looked around, then said, "Kirk, we're not making a scene, they're just looking at your gorgeous self."

  "Oh, yeah? Maybe their looking at your gorgeous self."

  "I don't think so," she said, noticing the women whose eyes were boldly appreciating Kirk. "God, I almost wish the scars were back."

  "Oh, they're here, you just can't see them."

  "They are?” she said as her eyes searched his face. “Well, they're not on your face. What did you do, put them in your pocket?"

  "Very funny." He guided her to a seat in the lobby, then carefully turned her face toward his. "Now, look at my face."

  “I have been,” Chyna said, looking closely, then finally saw a very faint, small line. She reached up to touch it.

  He caught her hand. "No, don't touch it. It's a skin-tone, stretchable synthetic that was made up for the doctor by a friend of his. It adheres to the skin naturally and covers any disfigurement. It was invented by a makeup artist who works in the film industry. This is just something he put together for the movies, but it worked so well he showed it to some doctors. Before long a lot of interest in the field of Cosmetic Surgery was worked up, and with their help he's going to put
it on the market. It's called—or it's going to be called, Second Skin."

  "It's fantastic."

  "Yeah." He looked around. "Now where is this woman we're supposed to meet here?"

  "Oh, she's up in room—" Chyna began scrambling around in her purse, then looked down at a piece of paper. "Room 203."

  "Okay, let's get going."

  They walked to the elevator, then Kirk turned as if he were looking for something. Suddenly he began pushing her toward a door, and said, "It's only one floor, how about we take the steps?"

  "Okay, whatever."

  Kirk pushed the door to the stairwell open for Chyna while his eyes began darting around. She walked through and was just about to take the first step up, when Kirk stopped her and turned her around.

  "I didn't really want to walk up, I just wanted somewhere we could be alone."

  "Oh yeah?" she said, smiling. "What did you have in mind, stranger?"

  "A little of this," he whispered as he pulled her to him and covered her lips with his. "And a touch of this," he continued as he began sensuously nibbling on her ear.

  Chyna closed her eyes and smiled mischievously, feeling the delicious heat of his breath on her face. Suddenly he put his hands under her coat and began firmly caressing her breasts. "Kirk," Chyna said, looking toward the door. "What if someone comes in?"

  "They'll have to wait their turn."

  She snickered into his mouth when he tried to kiss her.

  He pulled his head back. "Hey, that wasn't nice."

  "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

  "Is that what you're going to be teaching our kids? To snicker at their old dad?"

  The smile left her face, and she looked into his eyes for several seconds, wondering if he realized what he’d said. "Are we going to have kids, Kirk?"

  "I certainly hope so, isn't that your biological clock I hear ticking?"

  "It's a nuisance, isn't it?"

  His eyes softened as he looked at her. "It's the most beautiful music I'll ever hear."

  They started upstairs, gazing into each other's eyes. "I must say I've had more romantic proposals."

  "So you're one of those, huh?" Kirk stopped on the stairs and began rummaging through his coat pocket. After a while he brought out a box of Cracker Jacks. "Here, I was saving it for later, but you look hungry now."

  She looked down at it with a question in her eyes.

  "Go ahead, open it."

  Sitting down on the steps, she said, "You think of food at the strangest times." While pouring out the gooey, syrup covered snack, she looked down and saw the most beautiful ring she had ever seen tumble from the box. As she looked at it, her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Kirk," she said and began crying.

  "Women," Kirk replied, then took the ring from among the sticky puffs and placed it on her finger.

  Chyna held her hand out and looked down at it, then turned and threw her arms around him.

  Kirk pulled her close, pushing her gently down among the sweet, sticky popcorn and kissing her deeply. Then whispering softly into her ear, he asked, "I love you, Chyna. Will you marry me?"

  "Oh, yes, Kirk. Yes, yes, yes!"

  They lay there giggling until they heard someone opening the door above them, then got up quickly and continued up the stairs.

  As they walked down the hall to Reyna's room, Chyna was still holding her hand out and looking at the glittering diamond. Several people passed by them, looking curiously at Chyna's outstretched hand. Chyna leaned over and whispered to Kirk. "You'll have to watch me, Kirk. I'm so happy, I feel like stopping everyone I see and telling them."

  He whispered, "Well then, I guess I'll have to handcuff you."

  She looked at him suggestively, and purred. "Anytime!"

  They finally arrived at Reyna's room. After knocking several times Chyna turned the knob, but it was locked. She looked up at Kirk with a worried look on her face. Just then a maid passed by, pushing a cart full of linens. Chyna reached out and stopped her. "Excuse me, would you please open this door for me? We're expected, and I'm kind of worried, since there's no answer."

  "Of course," the maid replied promptly, then pulled out a card, pushed it into a slot, and turned the knob.

  Chyna pushed the door open slowly and stepped in, looking around. "Reyna," she called out. "Are you here? It's me, Chyna." Puzzled, she wandered around for a few moments, then walked into the bedroom and stopped cold. What she saw caused a gasp, and a sudden scream to burst out of her throat. Both the maid and Kirk ran to her. There they saw a young, attractive brunette sprawled out on the bed, lying in a pool of blood with her wrists sliced open. From the looks of the room, it appeared that she had slashed her wrists in the bathroom, then with blood dripping everywhere, had staggered into the bedroom to lie down and die.

  Chyna fainted.

  * * * *

  When Chyna awoke later, there was a bustle of people all over the suite. There were ambulance attendants, a coroner, uniforms, and a Columbo-type detective giving her the once-over appreciatively. The hotel doctor was attending her when she looked around. "Where's Kirk?" she asked, frightened.

  "I'm right here, sweetheart," Kirk said, rushing to her side.

  She grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, then closed her heavy lids.

  The doctor looked at him, concerned, then pulled him away for a moment. "She's had quite a shock. I'm going to have to give her a strong sedative that'll put her out for several hours. Do you have a room at the hotel?"

  "No, but that's okay. Give her whatever she needs. I'll think of something."

  The doctor prepared the medication while Kirk questioned him in hushed tones.

  "She will be all right, won't she?"

  "She’ll be fine. The sedative will give the shock time to wear off. When she wakes up, she'll remember it, of course, but she’ll be better able to cope with it."

  The doctor turned back to Chyna just as Kirk turned and saw the nosey detective still watching Chyna. He tried to ignore him, but when he couldn't take anymore, he yelled. "Get your goddamned beady eyes off my fiancée."

  “Hey, don’t get so excited. I’m just doin’ my job here. You were busy. I was waiting for you to get through. I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “What is it?” Kirk growled.

  “The little lady over there. Is she Chyna Marsh?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  The detective lifted a bloody picture in his hand and looked at it.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “A picture of Ms. Marsh, apparently.”

  "Where did you get it?"

  "The dead woman had it clutched in her hand."

  A chill passed through Kirk as he snatched the picture away from the detective. His mind went back to the night he had slit his own wrists holding Chyna's picture in his hand. “Can I borrow this for a minute?”

  The detective shrugged. “Why not, with your prints on it, it’s ruined as evidence anyway.”

  “Evidence? You’re collecting evidence? My God, you think this is a murder?”

  “Sir, when a death has occurred a homicide detective is always—” His impatience getting the best of him he gave the air a swipe with his hand. “—hell, you’re a citizen, what the fuck do you know about investigating a suicide, or anything else?” He indicated to the photograph. “Go ahead. Take the friggin’ picture with my compliments.” When he turned away, Kirk heard him mutter, “Civilians, sheee.”

  Turning away from the disgruntled detective, he walked back to the doctor. "Doc, have you given her the shot yet?"

  "Just about to, why?"

  "Could I have a moment with her first?"

  "Sure," the doctor said as he moved away.

  Kirk settled down beside her, hesitating to ask the question. "Chyna, did you know Reyna was in love with you?"

  Chyna looked up at him. "What?"

  He looked down at the photograph, and showed it to Chyna. "She had this clutc
hed in her hand."

  Chyna took the bloody photograph and looked down at her smiling face. "This doesn't mean anything."

  "I think it does. She called you the other night. What did you talk about?"

  "You mostly."

  "What did you tell her about me?"

  Chyna looked lovingly into his eyes. "How wonderful you are and that I love you."

  "How did she react to that?"

  "Okay, I guess. She told me she was happy for me, and then—" She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Oh, Kirk, it just can't be true. She gave no indication to me how she felt."

  "I'm sure she didn't," he said sadly.

  "What's the matter?"

  "It's just that I know how it feels to want something you can't have so badly that death is preferable to living."

  "What do you mean, Kirk?"

  "Chyna, before you came to the mansion, I slit my wrists, and almost died with your picture clutched in my hands. If it hadn't been for Quinn and Elaine I might have died. Elaine patched me up, and Quinn stayed with me through the crisis. They didn't take me to the hospital, because they knew I would rather die than be seen by anyone."

  Chyna was reminded of the first day she’d woken up in the mansion after the hurricane. The stupid things she’d said. She’d had no idea what Elaine had gone through with Kirk. The ten years following the accident had taken its toll on all of them. It had turned Kirk into a prisoner, Elaine into a long-suffering recluse that ignored her own needs in favor of his. With her hair swept back in a bun most of the time and no makeup, she had, just as surely as Kirk, sentenced herself to the boundaries within that antiquated old mansion. She’d made a comfortable home for them, never thinking about herself. It had been hard on her, and Chyna hadn’t made it any easier.

  And what about Quinn? Had these ten years made him what he was today? Manipulative, controlling, and cruel. Chyna had learned early on that Quinn’s good looks were only skin deep, and she could see an emptiness in him that nothing could fill. Not wealth, power, or even love because Quinn was on a downward spiral. Those ten long years had created another monster— the one inside Quinn. When Quinn looked into Kirk’s face he saw his own monster buried deep inside him and lashed out at it. But the damning words he said speared Kirk, making him believe that he was a monster, he was a freak, he was an insect, and he didn’t deserve any better than that basement. Quinn didn’t know it, but the monster inside him that grew with each passing day was ruling his life—all their lives—making them what they were. On one hand Quinn knew he was handsome, but the monster inside kept rearing it’s ugly head in the person of Kirk Grayson, reminding him that he wasn’t good enough to attract any woman, much less one like Chyna Marsh. Feeling inadequate, he resorted to trickery, using the old widow and Venita. Quinn wasn’t used to anyone standing against him, and when Chyna did, the monster inside him came out.