Black Diaries

46. Fun with the Tools

That night high up among the stars wasn't the last time I used the L-word in Elliot's presence. And every time I did and he wanted to turn or slip away in self-disgust, I would clutch him tightly and anchor him to me. No matter if he didn't think he deserved my love—I knew better. And I would make him see that he was worthy of love if it was the last thing I did!

Just look at the way he treated me after my '"terrorist attack"—never in my life had I been so pampered, so looked after, so cherished by a single individual. Priceless presents, trips to the most beautiful spots of New York State, romantic dances—even not counting the adorable fussing of his grandmother, Elliot's attentiveness was enough to make any girl's heart melt.

The TV reports about the terrorist attack, however, had quite another effect on my heart.

"Good evening. This is Jace Radcliff bringing you breaking news on the terrorist attack at John F. Kennedy Airport last Friday."

My head jerked up. I had been sitting at the kitchen table in Elliot's penthouse, trying to mix myself a bowl of cereal while still only half awake. The words of the newscaster woke me abruptly. Trust me, you're much more interested in breaking news when the breaking news might be that you've been breaking the law and the police would drop by to break your heart at any moment.

"The attack, which cost the lives of five airport employees, is becoming more of a mystery with every passing minute. Confidential sources at the FBI inform us that the pattern of the crime is highly unusual for a terrorist attack. Instead of utilizing explosives, the killer appears to have stabbed three of his victims to death—amazingly, not using a knife in the last case but a common pen. As for the other two victims, one died of strangulation, and the other was bludgeoned to death with some kind of blunt object, that nevertheless seemed to have had one or two sharp spikes. The forensics report states: 'This is ridiculous! If I didn't know better, I'd say the guy was beaten to death with a miniature elephant!'"

The newscaster cleared his throat. "Um, well, so much for the developments in the JFK attack. Now back to Jimmy Dale with the latest sports news."

"Did someone say JFK attack?"

I jumped, and nearly fell off my chair.

"Easy! Easy there!"

Strong arms went around me, holding me steady, and I let myself sink back against him, breathing heavily. "God, Elliot! Don't creep up on me like that! You'll give me a heart attack!"

"Now, that's the last thing I'd want to do." Stroking a gentle finger over my cheek, he hugged me to him from behind. "What are they saying? Have they found the bastard who killed those people yet?"

No. And it's bastardette, by the way. Or is it bastardina? Hm... What exactly is the female form of bastard?

"No, they haven't."

He gestured to the TV, where by now a lot of amply-padded guys were hurling a ball around. "Then what was that all about?"

Oh, nothing really. They just discovered that the people at the airport were massacred with my souvenirs from Mumbai. Nothing major at all.

"Um... I didn't really listen. I just want to forget about it."

Stepping around me, he pulled my head against his chest, sheltering me. "Of course. Of course, Cassidy, I understand. I won't mention it again, and I'll see to it that the police don't bother you."

I nuzzled into his chest, a weight lifting off my shoulders.

"Elliot?"

"Yes?"