The Butterfly Killer

Chapter 29

29

Marcus stayed overnight in the hospital. He could have been discharged yesterday after going through his statement, but it was easier to stay here than find a hotel. One of the agents had offered to pay for him to get a room, but it felt strange taking money from strangers when they’d just gruel led him for information just a little while earlier.

None of them were in the consensus he was aiding Roman’s escape, however, they were so pressed to find him that their asking turned into demanding after just a couple of minutes.

Patrice had almost broken down over the phone when Marcus finally called him. Patrice would have been there in a heart-beat, but the best he could do was jump on the next plane.

Sitting on the hospital bed, wearing the same clothes as yesterday with crusted dried blood, Marcus wondered if he’d be able to pull himself out of this numb state he’d fallen into.

The hospital room smelled of disinfectant and death. His nose tingled at the familiar, yet still jarring smell. The small room felt bigger with the morning light streaming through the window than it had last night when he was forced to sleep in this uncomfortable bed.

He didn’t realize he’d ever miss the cot in the cabin. He never thought in a million years he would miss him .

He took a look around. He foolishly believed for a second he would be over it after he got some sleep. He could only hope now that these feelings would fade in time. He wasn’t going to get his old life back—that would just be idiotic of him—but he hoped he could manage to pretend long enough.

What he would do if that didn’t work…that was for future Marcus to deal with. It was a feat just getting up this morning.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, but he was jarred out of his staring contest with the wall by a firm knock at the door. He had a second to gather himself before the door swung open.

FBI Agent Mercer wasn’t the last person Marcus expected to see, but he wasn’t the first either.

Marcus started to stand, but Mercer raised his hand. Marcus sunk back to where he’d been rotting away.

The door closed softly behind Mercer.

They let the silence fall around them. Marcus was getting the sense that Mercer was waiting for him to start talking, but even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to find the words. Mercer didn’t seem like the type to feel uncomfortable in silence, however, he did seem like the type to like to to waste time, especially his own.

“We found the car he was driving. It had been dumped in a river about twenty miles from the diner.”

Marcus looked down at his hands. When he told the summarized story of what had gone down since he’d been…kidnapped, he didn’t know he’d have to keep remembering it all over again. It didn’t help that he felt like a traitor giving up even just the littlest bit of information on Roman. Though it wasn’t like he’d told them he was being protected by another member of the cartel, he felt like even just the slightest bit of information would give the police the edge they needed to locate him.

Even though not even Marcus knew where he could be. That had to be good, right? Marcus had been the one person obsessed with finding him, second to the true Butterfly Killer who meant close to nothing to him now. Now, he didn’t want to know where Roman was. Though this obsession had taken over his life, he couldn’t let it go on. He had to think not only of Roman but himself. If he let this continue, he would only be digging the dagger in deeper.

Mercer tilted his head. “I know this is too soon to bring up, but you don’t seem too upset that he’s still out there.”

Marcus whipped his head up and met Mercer’s eyes.

They narrowed slightly. “I’m not an expert on emotions, but even I can tell when someone is lying.”

Marcus tensed. His body flushed with anger and if it seemed like he was angry because Mercer was doubting his trauma response then that would just be perfectly fine.

“I didn’t lie about anything.” He held himself together with what little strength he had. Really, the only reason he was doing so well right now was because he had to. No one else was going to keep Roman safe on this side.

Though, now that he thought about it, if Lucas was as powerful as his father was, Roman wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Miguel had gotten away with his freakish nature for decades. Why couldn’t Roman?

Something in him sank as he thought about Roman continuing the demented tradition. Marcus could only hope Roman kept it to business and didn’t mix it with pleasure.

Mercer gave him a long stare. Marcus had thought Mercer was a stand-up FBI agent. He’d treated Marcus better than all his fellow officers and had let him in on the investigation when Blevins had done almost everything to keep Marcus as far away as possible.

He didn’t know Mercer on a deep level. He barely knew the man at all.

He was naive to think that anyone would be on his side.

With a heavy sigh, Marcus shook his head. “Get out. I’m done with being interrogated. I’ve given my statement.”

Still, Mercer stayed, gaze burning into Marcus as if by intimidation alone Marcus would start spilling his guts. He wouldn’t. Mercer would have to cut them out if he wanted them.

Mercer pulled out his wallet. “My card.”

Marcus wasn’t going to take it at first. It didn’t slip him by that Mercer knew he didn’t have it. It was either still in the hands of a waitress or in a landfill.

He snatched it out of Mercer’s grip.

Even when Mercer was gone, he couldn’t relax. He knew Mercer wasn’t going to let this go. He knew something was up with Marcus.

Marcus would do all he damn could to make sure Mercer never found out about what happened in that cabin.

“Oh my god!”

Patrice practically flew through the door and onto Marcus. Marcus let out a grunt as he was forced back onto the hospital bed, the locked wheels skidding across the linoleum tiles a few inches.

Patrice pulled back. “Sorry! I was just so fucking worried about you and when they said you were all the way here I lost my mind?—”

Marcus gave a shaky smile. “Hey, I’m okay now.”

Patrice grinned and hugged Marcus tightly. But after a long moment of Patrice almost choking him to death, his friend pulled back. A frown that didn’t suit Patrice’s features darkened his bright mood.

“You’re not okay, though, are you?”

Marcus didn’t know what to say. The truth? No. It wouldn’t be good enough. He needed an excuse. A promise that things would get better. That he would get better so he wouldn’t bring Patrice’s life down along with his.

He put on the fakest smile he’d ever wore, faker than the one he mustered at his mother’s funeral.

It made him feel like shit. He felt even worse when it was directed at Patrice.

Patrice didn’t return it. Why would he? He knew immediately Marcus was lying to him. It was a fucking insult and Marcus wished he could take it back if he could. The regret wasn’t enough to make him want to tell Patrice anything though. His lips were sealed even if Patrice is the one person in the world he could trust.

Patrice’s frown deepened. He pulled completely away, his warmth dissipating, leaving Marcus feeling colder than before.

Cautiously, Patrice sat on the bed beside him. The silence should have been comforting as they’d sat in silence many times over the years. This time it was heavy and filled with trauma that neither of them could convey.

Marcus only had to guess a little what it felt like to be on the other side of someone you cared about being hurt. He’d imagined what might happen to his sister if he hadn’t traded places with her—the thoughts of Michael briefly coming to the forefront.

And he didn’t have to pretend to know what it felt like to know that your loved one had been hurt. Marcus’s mother might not have survived and Marcus might still be alive, but that didn’t meant Patrice wasn’t going through it too.

Marcus hadn’t known what to do after his mother’s death. He hadn’t known what he could do to help his sister or to help himself. He imagined Patrice was going through the same thing.

What can I do? Will I make it worse? Will he hate me?

Those thoughts couldn’t be further from the truth. Marcus’s own thoughts were filled with guilt, deceit, but also conviction.

What does he know? Will he pry? How much do I have to distance myself?

Patrice lifted his hand. He seemed like he was going to place his hand on Marcus’s arm, but he changed his mind. He lowered his hand awkwardly to the space between them on the bed.

“When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here,” he said. There was desperation in his voice. Marcus felt it in the pit of his stomach. It made his throat tight and itchy.

He coughed. “Thanks—uh—how’s it been?”

He winced at how stupid that sounded. How’s it been? Was he going to act like nothing happened? Were they really going to go back to how it used to be like nothing had changed? News flash, it fucking had. Marcus might not be totally fucked up about it (though by how much he missed Roman he definitely was) but Patrice was definitely going through something.

Patrice gave Marcus a strange look as expected, but he took it in stride. Perhaps there could be a resemblance of normality in a few weeks. Maybe.

“I’ve been removed from the case. The FBI has taken full jurisdiction.”

Marcus tried to find some sort of surprise, but he didn’t. The FBI would be all over this given the fact that it was connected to a larger picture. Marcus didn’t even know how big it went as it seemed the son of Dante Cortez was branching off onto his own.

“Chief has given you a month vacation. Nonnegotiable.”

Marcus pursed his lips and slowly nodded. “And how much of his decision was your suggestion?”

Patrice sighed. “Look. I know you like to throw yourself into your work, but that’s not the solution. It might seem like it’s making things better, but that’s only avoidance. The problem will still be with you. Instead, you won’t be able to see when it’s gotten worse because you’ll be so used to ignoring it.”

Marcus chuckled. “Spoken like a true doctor. Are you trying to get your psychiatric masters too?”

“Don’t act like that.”

Marcus stopped laughing.

Patrice turned his head upwards, blinking rapidly as his eyes seemed to glisten.

“I didn’t think you were coming back.” His voice broke. A slight tremble ran through his body and to his fingertips.

Marcus didn’t think before he grabbed Patrice’s hand.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

Patrice couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. They spilled down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away, but when he did, more came falling down. Marcus wrapped his arms around his friend, the first intimate touch he’d received or given since Roman.

He didn’t fail to notice how different this was. There was no power-imbalance. There was no risk and no games to be played. Marcus wasn’t doing this to manipulate and he wasn’t being manipulated.

Still, even as he hugged his dear friend, consoling him as he wept into his chest, he longed for the other version of touch he wasn’t going to find here.

“And sign here please.”

Marcus picked up the chewed hospital pen again and scribbled something that looked somewhat like his signature. His thoughts were miles away as he thought about getting on a plane and eventually falling into his own bed.

Patrice patted him on the back. “I’m going to the bathroom before we head off. Wait for me outside. I won’t be long.”

Marcus nodded as the woman behind the desk took the papers back from him and put them away into a file. Patrice gave him one last reassuring pat before he started toward the bathrooms.

Marcus peered around the busy hospital for a moment. The voices and noise were in the background, a slight buzz as he became more numb to the world. He thought when he stepped out of the hospital room there would be a change. He foolishly thought things would be better once he rejoined the world. He still wasn’t entirely there. He still had time to reassimilate.

He held his bag of dirty clothes to his chest. Patrice had wanted him to throw them away, but he’d refused. It was trauma they would say. He couldn’t fully detach himself from that version of him that was still hurting.

The bright sun was blinding as it shined through the sliding doors. He begrudgingly walked toward it. A part of him wanted to go back to the room. It was like the last shredded piece of Roman’s dictated world.

Marcus snorted at himself. Roman’s world? When did the cartel business become Roman’s? This was bigger than a copy cat serial killer. It didn’t matter that Marcus had been a cog piece that led Roman to begin working with them. Roman was nothing to them as was Marcus was nothing to?—

“No,” he muttered to himself. He clenched his teeth as he stood in front of the doors. He closed his eyes for a moment, hating that his thoughts had gone there.

He took a deep breath and let it out in the next slow seconds. When he opened his eyes again, he stared upward at the bright blue sky and the even brighter sun. It blinded him once more and he wished he had the strength to keep looking until his retinas were completely burned. He wished to be blind. That way, nothing of this inadequate world would remind him of the broken one he was leaving.

“Oh, sir!”

Marcus was just about to step through the doors when someone grabbed his arm. On reflex, he snatched his arm away.

“Sorry,” said the woman from the desk. She blushed as she held out a yellow note. “There was a message left for you.”

Marcus took it, avoiding touching her hand. She gave a tight-lipped smile before she rushed back to her desk. Marcus watched he go before he looked down at the note.

If you want to see me again, there will be a car parked out front.

His heart dropped into his stomach.

There was no question as to who “me” was in this case. Roman.

There was no hesitation this time. He rushed through the doors thought he knew it was stupid of him. If there really was a car waiting for him, he couldn’t leave to see Roman. Patrice was waiting for him. His old life was waiting for him.

Still, his feet lead him outside to the curb.

Marcus stared at the sleek black car parked obviously in front of the hospital. He looked to around if anyone else had taken notice of the out of place car, but everyone was going about their day as if a fancy ass car parked in front of the police station was a normal occurrence.

He couldn’t get his feet to move. The note was crumbled in his fist. He shoved it into his pocket as a gust of wind blew into him. There was no threat of it being swept away with how hard he was clutching it, but he needed to make sure he didn’t lost it. It was the only evidence he had that this was actually happening.

The car door popped open.

The last person he expected to see stepped out.

Black hair, tan skin, and bright green eyes. It was Miguel nephew. Cortez’s son. Roman’s cousin. The one that put the Hernandez’s cartel into the fucking ground and who was currently running the police in circles in trying to find who’d leaked the corruption to the press.

Lucas Arvispa Cortez. Marcus knew his name now. A few google searches had been enough to find out the man’s name.

Lucas lazily rested his arm on top of the door as he gazed back at Marcus. A minute passed as they didn’t move.

And then Marcus took the first step.

The note burned through his skin and through his pocket.

Marcus didn’t believe it was Lucas’s handwriting. Someone with access had placed it on Marcus’s desk. Any trace to Lucas would have been erased.

He stopped in front of Lucas. He opened his mouth. He choked up. The words, the question, got stuck in his throat. He tried again?—

“Marcus!”

Patrice’s voice made him whip around. His friend stood just in front of the hospital doors. His face showed fear and panic. How he could he know, Marcus couldn’t even fathom. Before he could tell Patrice to go back inside, Patrice started running toward him.

Marcus met him halfway. He couldn’t let Lucas meet Patrice. He couldn’t let them meet each other. He needed his two worlds to stay apart. He needed someone to be safe away from this corruption and Patrice needed to be protected, no matter what his friend said.

“Who is that ?” Patrice spat the words out like Lucas was the man who’d taken Marcus. It wouldn’t be too crazy to assume a serial killer might come back to finish what he started, but it simply wasn’t the truth.

Marcus stopped Patrice with an outstretched arm. Patrice barreled into it and if it weren’t for Marcus shoving him backward, Patrice might have actually attacked Lucas.

“You’re protecting him?” Patrice snarled.

Marcus’s eyes widened. He’d never seen Patrice like this. Never so out of control.

There was a snicker from behind him. He stiffened and Patrice glared over Marcus’s shoulder.

Marcus slowly turned to face Lucas who’d walked away from the car and to them. He looked Patrice over with an interest that sent a chill up Marcus’s spine. He turned around and stepped in front of Patrice to block Lucas’s view.

“I’m not his kidnapper, if that’s who you think I am.”

Patrice didn’t say anything.

Lucas smiled. “Mr. Palmer, would you join me for a ride? It’ll only take a couple minutes of your time and I can have you back in your friend’s care.”

Patrice fumed. “You aren’t taking him anywhere.”

“Patrice.”

Marcus’s calm voice drew Patrice’s attention. He glanced back at Marcus, but Marcus wasn’t looking at him. He was still staring at Lucas and Lucas was looking back. There was a silent exchange between the two. Marcus knew this was his only chance to hearing Lucas out. If he turned this down, he wouldn’t have another opportunity to find out what had happened to Roman.

He placed his hand over Patrice’s wrist. Patrice’s eyes pleaded with him to stay as if he knew Marcus had already made his choice. Marcus gently shook his head. He would apologize later though he doubted he could mean it.

Patrice had been the closest person he had before everything changed. But now, there was someone else who’d taken Marcus’s life completely and there was no way in changing it.

“I need to,” Marcus said. The firmness almost took him back. The look in Patrice’s eyes was hurt. There was no doubt about it.

Marcus pushed Patrice’s hand off his own, severing whatever connection they had. Marcus could already feel the drift between them forming. He’d noticed it the second he woke up, his disconnect from this normal world in which his life didn’t revolve around Roman. It was even more evident as he walked away from the safety net keeping him safe from those same people he was willingly walking towards.

Patrice’s shoulders slumped. Still, he waited with eager eyes for Marcus to change his mind and come running back to him. The look upon his face swiftly changed. It was the look one gave when they were helpless to show someone who was destroying themselves.

Marcus turned a blind eye to the warning. He followed Lucas to the black car. He slid into the back seat and let Lucas close the door firmly behind him.

He stared at his hands as Lucas joined him on the other side and told the driver to go around the block.

“Who was your friend?”

A chill went down Marcus’s spine. He pinned Lucas with the harshest glare he could muster. “Leave him out of this.”

Lucas grinned like the two of them were sharing an inside joke. “Sure.”

There was a sarcastic note to it that Marcus didn’t like. If he was uneasy before, the feeling had doubled since he first saw Lucas get out of the car.

“Is he okay?” Marcus couldn’t hold the question in any longer. It was all he could think about when he first saw Lucas.

The feeling was akin to that of a wife seeing her husband’s comrade on her front doorstep. It could only mean one of a few things, none of them good.

Lucas’s smile dropped. “He is. He’s doing so well that I’ve made a deal with him. One that I’d like to extend to you.”

Marcus’s brows furrowed. “Deal?”

Lucas leaned back in the plush leather seats of the car. There was no question he held an immense amount of wealth. He was prideful. Marcus didn’t need a degree or years of training to see that. Lucas didn’t even try to hide that he liked to show off. He was a spoiled boy who grew into a greedy man who would do a lot to get his way.

“Roman works for me. He does some dirty deeds, I extend my hand to help him. Protection costs a lot.” His eyes slid to Marcus. It was a glance from the corner of his eyes, one that Marcus couldn’t miss.

Marcus stiffened. “He’s become your Miguel.”

Lucas grimaced. “My uncle was a rabid dog with no sense of tact. My father was an idiot for letting him run and piss around. It was a matter of time before Miguel’s vice ended with him dead.”

“You sound heartbroken,” Marcus mumbled.

Lucas gave a toothy grin to that. “It made my job a lot of a hell easier.”

Marcus didn’t like that smile. It was like seeing a shark grin.

The car turned around the corner. They were close to completing the block. The hospital grew nearer.

“Roman is important to you,” Lucas said, no question. “He’s important to me as well. Given our common interest, I want to extend my protection to you as well.”

Another corner turned. The hospital was in the distance. Marcus stared ahead, listening to Lucas’s words. They burned his ears.

“In exchange?” His mouth had gone dry.

“Ah, yes.” Lucas said it as if it hadn’t occurred to him to ask for something in return and that it had been Marcus’s suggestion. They both knew that nothing in his world came free. There was always a catch. “The two FBI agents. Agents Mercer and Burns. I want you to stay in touch with them.”

A sick feeling, one stronger than the other when Marcus first saw Lucas waiting for him, crept up into his chest and settled in his throat. His mouth went dry—drier than it already was. His fingers twitched as he stared Lucas right in the eyes, holding his gaze as he tried to figure out how much he could trust the man.

Obviously, he shouldn’t. But Marcus already knew his hands were tied behind his back. Lucas was powerful enough to help Roman. Marcus could only think about what might happen to the other man if he didn’t have Lucas’s protection. As much as he wanted to wish or imagine that he was strong enough to protect Roman himself, it was only a foolish dream.

“What do you want with them?” Marcus couldn’t help that he clenched his teeth. Agent Mercer and Burns had been nothing but helpful and nice to him. If it was anyone else…if it had been Blevins that Lucas wanted, Marcus wouldn’t have waited a heartbeat to bend over and give it all to Lucas.

The car pulled to the hospital. Patrice was there. He was pacing back and forth. When he saw the black car pull up again, he glared, face pinched with his hands on his hips.

Lucas noticed too. How could he not when Patrice seemed to know exactly where Lucas was sitting in the car and was trying to peel his skin off with his gaze alone?

Lucas grinned. Those sharp teeth were back and Marcus shivered with disgust. He was only slightly relieved it wasn’t Patrice the sick fuck had asked for.

Lucas didn’t look at him again. His eyes were glued to Patrice who stepped close to the car door. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll contact you when I want it done.”

Marcus snarled. “What do you want done?”

Again, Lucas didn’t answer. He leaned over. Marcus flinched, moving back so he wasn’t so close to touching the man.

Lucas popped the door open. Patrice took that as permission and swung the door open all the way, not strong enough to rip it off the hinges but hard enough to show he wanted to.

“Are you okay?” Patrice had his hands on Marcus in a split second, pulling him from the car and helping him on his feet because for some reason they started to not work. The weight of the kind of position he was in causing his limbs to short-circuit.

Patrice looked at Lucas again. He seemed to want to say something, but he clenched his jaw. Lucas sprawled back on the seats, grinning.

Patrice slammed the door closed. He pulled Marcus away from the car as it drove off.