Alonzo is a very pivotal character in my novel, in a lot of ways. He shapes (and is shaped by) events that occur in the story.
Is it possible to have a crush on a fictional character? I'll admit, I have a little bit of a crush on him, for eight years now. Still doesn't keep me from pounding the heck out of him, though, and Crystal. I love watching what roadblocks of various kinds does to them.
So enjoy Part One, Part Two, and Part Three, if you need a refresher. Then enjoy
The Motel
Alonzo's Story - Part Four
Alonzo’s eyes fell on her upper arm as her shirt came down,
and he stopped mid-thought. A bullet
wound sat on Crystal’s left arm, crusted with dried blood. Near the hole lay the familiar outlines of a
shadowy picture of a lizard.
He glanced in shock at his own left arm.
The skin lay perfect and smooth. His hated tattoo…completely gone.
“What? A woman’s what?”
He couldn’t speak; couldn’t understand the primal ache he
felt at seeing that mark on her. Alonzo reached his left hand up to touch the
outlines of the tattoo as it now sat on her arm.
His mind registered Crystal’s voice, as she lay still
beneath him, her face turned towards the door.
“Oh…yeah. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save it. Sorry.”
This had been his bullet hole.
He held his hand over Crystal’s arm in awe and wonder. What
would this cost her?
“Will it be permanent on you?”
“No.”
Relief flooded through him.
He couldn’t make her understand what it meant to him to be free of that
tattoo…his skin free and clear as though all the past never happened. Gone.
“Thank you…for healing me.”
For a moment, no one spoke. And he felt her skin beneath
him, soft and yielding. His eyes dropped
to her lowered jeans, the blisters looking hot and angry over her buttocks.
His skin looked dark, and felt rough over hers. She relaxed to his touch, looking much more
at ease, while his discomfort and tension increased.
He grabbed the habanero sauce and continued applying it to
her skin, looking up to see the lesions on her shoulders disappearing.
“Bet I’d be good on a…taco now.” Crystal snorted a little,
as if she wanted to laugh, her eyes drooping.
Alonzo stopped.
What?
A flood of suggestive ideas flowed into his mind, arms and
legs and skin and lips. He felt so
grateful to her for saving him, and…so soft.
His fingers kneaded more deeply into her skin, enjoying the feel of her,
leaning down….
He stood and walked away to the other end of the room, his
mind dragging his body. The thought of
it…completely unethical and crazy. She was just a girl…almost still a child. He leaned on the wall, head hanging, his burning
hands dripping red.
A shadow crossed the small break in the curtains, falling
across the wall. Alonzo felt his gun in
his hand in an instant, and he moved to the window, lifting the edges back with
his back side of his free hand.
No one there.
He lowered his weapon, breathing heavily and slouching
against the door, sliding to the floor.
He heard a noise near the bed and scrambled to his feet
again. Just Crystal this time. She had
pulled up her jeans but left them unbuttoned in the front, while she snored.
What could he do? Lay
down? With her? The way he felt right
now, looking at her open jeans and exposed abdomen…
Had to get away from
her; from what all this close contact did to him.
But where? Back to John, who just tried to have him
killed? Not arrested. Assassinated.
Why? He still didn’t know.
Alonzo walked over to the bathroom, washing his red hands
clean in the sink, and wiping down his firearm. Then he came back out to put
the folding chair behind the door against the wall, his energy gone.
No. Somewhere in his gut, he knew the only way to
get down to the real answers was to stay with this girl. Help
her find her father, or at least get as far as possible, as much for his own
sake as for hers. Something felt wrong,
and he needed answers.
The trail ended tomorrow, whether they found him or not. They
could not possibly get any further. John would see to that.
I can hold out one
more day.
Her snoring broke through his concentration. A stray patch of hair lay across her
cheek. His hand gripped the chair as he
fought the magnetic desire to stand, to walk over to her, to brush it away from
her face.
To get closer. Ever closer.
He closed his eyes, but the image of her peaceful, sleeping
form remained in his mind. His heart pouring out of his chest, his own hands
clenching against a different pain.
No sleep tonight…
*
I wonder if they'll find her father...
Thanks for reading, and remember, there's more of Crystal and Alonzo in my novel, Sanctuary, for Kindle at Amazon.
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