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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Disclaimer: The Characters Miss Parker, Sydney, Jarod, Broots and The Center are all property
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.
Of Envy and Darkness
02/22/04
Part7 – By Phenyx
-
Jarod ducked into the doorway of a closed coffee shop and hid in the shadows while a man and woman strolled passed him. The couple walked hand in hand talking softly about some movie they had just seen. At one point, they were so close that Jarod was able to identify the woman’s perfume as her scent wafted by. Jarod could have reached out and stroked her blonde hair but the pair drifted away without realizing they were being watched.
It was late, nearly midnight. It had taken longer to get here than Jarod had intended. But caution was the key. He’d made this brief journey on foot. Rumpled and blood-spattered as he was, the pretender could not afford to be seen.
The cut on Jarod’s forehead had stopped bleeding but was still throbbing painfully. His twelve hundred dollar suit was ruined, caked with mud, grass stained and bloody. Jarod’s shoes were equally destroyed, scraped and scratched as he ran through the night. The pretender looked, appropriately enough, as though he’d just crawled away from the scene of an accident. Jarod had no desire to be stopped by some good Samaritan passers-by or worse yet, a concerned police officer.
Once the coast was clear, Jarod slipped from his hiding place and dashed across the street to the luxury apartment building on the corner. The security at the front door was easily avoided by a man of Jarod’s talents and within a matter of minutes the pretender was jogging up the stairway to the seventh floor. Elevators tended to have surveillance cameras.
Pressing his back against the wall, Jarod waited for a moment to catch his breath. He eased the door open and quickly peered into the hall. When he found the corridor empty, Jarod slid into the passageway without a sound. Moving with the grace and stealth of a cat, Jarod hurried passed several apartments until he reached his destination.
The pretender placed one hand over the peephole in the door before rapping firmly on the polished wooden panel. At this time of night, caution would prevent anyone in their right mind from answering under these circumstances. But Jarod knew that his quarry would open up, against all better judgment. Greed, arrogance, and an over-inflated sense of superiority made the target careless, always had.
Jarod didn’t bother knocking again. He simply waited with his palm cupped over the eyehole. His head hung low and his eyes closed as he listened carefully to the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. The pretender’s head cocked to one side as silence fell. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Jarod knew that someone was pressed against the opposite side of the wooden plank, listening in return.
With a soft click, the shiny brass knob began to turn. The door had only barely shifted on its hinges before Jarod exploded against it. As the pretender crashed into the hard oak, there was a yelp of surprise. The door banged open, striking an inner wall loudly and rebounding as Jarod stormed through the opening.
“Damn predictable,” Jarod hissed as he shoved a startled Lyle to the floor. Grabbing the edge of the door with one hand, Jarod slammed it closed behind him and advanced. The sound of metal scraped across the tiled floor, Lyle’s gun skittering from his grasp as he fell with a thud.
No sooner had the man hit the ground than Jarod struck at him. Snatching Lyle by the front of his shirt, Jarod hauled the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The pretender punched him hard in the stomach and when Lyle doubled over, Jarod’s knee jerked up and cracked against Lyle’s face.
Jarod’s firm grasp on Lyle’s shirt prevented the man from careening backward. The pretender took the opportunity to ram his fist into Lyle’s abdomen a second time. Rage seared through Jarod’s body and he willingly gave it free rein, pounding into Lyle with a series of rapid jabs. A quick uppercut with his opposite hand and Jarod sent Lyle sprawling on the floor.
Lyle, bleeding from his nose and a split lip, backed away as quickly as he could, shielding himself with his arms. “Wait, wait!” he yelled.
“Get up,” Jarod snarled. “GET UP!”
Blinking in astonishment, Lyle stared up at his attacker. “Jarod?” he asked incredulously. “What happened?”
In response, Jarod grabbed Lyle’s shirtfront and lifted him from the floor. Pinning the other man to the wall, Jarod rammed Lyle against the plaster for emphasis as he spoke. “Did you sabotage my limo?” the pretender growled dangerously.
“No!” Lyle cried.
“Do you know who did?” Jarod asked, banging the back of Lyle’s head against the wall with each syllable.
“No!” Lyle vowed. “I swear, Jarod. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leaning in so closely that their noses nearly touched, Jarod hissed, “Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s the truth,” Lyle gulped.
Jarod abruptly deflated, releasing Lyle and leaning against the wall wearily. As though someone had flipped a switch, the pretender’s anger seemed to vanish. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” Jarod sighed.
Dabbing tenderly at his sore nose, Lyle shrugged. “I have no reason to harm you Jarod.”
“But you want to,” Jarod scoffed.
“To be honest,” Lyle said ruefully. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“I’ve had a bad night, Bobby,” Jarod groaned. “Don’t yank my chain. I’m just not in the mood.”
“Let’s face it,” Lyle said. “The Yakuza would prefer to see me dead. The Triumvirate thinks I’m a bumbling idiot, thanks to you and my dear sister.” As he continued to talk, Lyle walked into the kitchen and grabbed a towel from the counter. Jarod followed and watched from a distance as the other man wet the towel at the sink and pressed the terrycloth to his lip. “Mr. Parker is dead and Raines has vanished, leaving me alone and out in the cold. Everyone believes that I’m more trouble than I am worth. There is only one reason nobody has put a contract out on me already.”
Jarod raised one eyebrow questioningly.
“You want me around to play the patsy,” Lyle grimaced distastefully. “I’m in reserve to be your fall guy should the need arise. Performing as your punching bag is just a bonus.”
“It sounds to me like you hate my guts,” Jarod drawled.
“Only as much as you hate mine,” Lyle smiled evilly.
“You’d like me dead,” Jarod eyed the other man critically. “You rigged the car didn’t you?”
“No, Jarod,” Lyle stated simply. “I didn’t.” Tossing the towel aside angrily Lyle hissed, “No one is going to ally with me against you and your bitches. All I can do is try to stay on your good side long enough to regain some credibility.”
Jarod crossed his arms stubbornly. “I won’t let you go back to your old games, Lyle,” he said.
“You can’t watch me forever,” Lyle said confidently. “I’ll find a way back to the top. I always find a way.”
The two men stared grimly at each other, sizing each other up like dogs before a fight.
With a sudden sigh Lyle asked, “Do you want to clean up? You look like hell.” Not waiting for a response, Lyle pulled open a drawer and retrieved a clean dishtowel. Tossing the item across the room, Lyle stepped aside and gestured Jarod toward the sink.
Jarod eyed Lyle warily as he stepped toward the stainless steel basin. As he turned on the tap, the pretender glanced up and caught his reflection in the shiny surface of a metal wok hanging on the wall. Jarod winced.
Lyle’s comment had been right on the mark, he looked terrible. The lump on Jarod’s forehead was a garish purple in color and split down the center by the jagged, inch-long cut. Blood had begun to seep slowly from the wound again, a result no doubt of the pretender’s exertions. Thick red ooze had been smeared across Jarod’s face and dried on his cheeks. His wide dark eyes seemed to peer out of a mask of blood.
Jarod bent and stuck his head under the cold running water with a sigh.
“Did anyone get hurt?” Lyle asked almost casually.
“Not badly,” the pretender said calmly. “Do you care?”
“Of course,” Lyle purred.
Jarod pulled away from the faucet and splashed a few handfuls of water over his face, washing away the last of the blood. “You are a lying bastard,” Jarod commented as he dried his hair on the towel Lyle had given him.
“All part of my charm,” the other man grinned.
The pretender eyed Lyle intensely for nearly a minute. Just as the other man was beginning to squirm, Jarod spoke. “You once offered me your services, Lyle. You said that you could go places and do things that I can’t.”
“Or won’t,” Lyle agreed.
Jarod tossed the towel aside carelessly and shot Lyle a hard glare. “Find out who tried to kill us today,” he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it but do it quickly.”
Lyle crossed his arms and grinned. “And what will I get for my trouble?” he asked.
The pretender flashed across the room until he stood toe to toe with his rival. “One less beating,” Jarod snarled. “One more day under my protection. Do we understand one another?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lyle nodded.
Turning on his heel Jarod stormed toward the door. “And Lyle,” he called back over his shoulder. “I want irrefutable proof, preferably pictures or a taped confession. Anything less will lack plausibility coming from you.”
“Yes, sir,” Lyle whispered to the now empty apartment. As quickly and quietly as he had come, the pretender had vanished, leaving Lyle to tend to his new bruises.
--
Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows when Miss Parker made her way downstairs. It had been a hell of a night. No one had slept well. Aches and pains caused by the accident had prevented it. Ishmael, the most seriously injured in their group, had been given codeine covered Tylenol before being released from the emergency room. The rest of them had been forced to make due with over-the-counter medications.
Parker had been lucky. She had walked away from the accident with barely a scratch. Though her body had been a little stiff this morning, it had been nothing a hot shower couldn’t wash away. Miss Parker’s restlessness had little to do with physical pain. Her few hours in bed had been spent tossing with concern over the missing pretender.
Wearing only blue jeans and an old sweater Parker padded through the big house toward the kitchen. Rounding the corner of the livingroom, she could see light filtering from the crack beneath the kitchen door. The distinct aroma of fresh coffee grew stronger as Parker approached.
When Parker stepped through the swinging door, she found Jarod sitting at the table, staring into his coffee mug. The pretender was dressed in black trousers and a cotton t-shirt. It was one of those generic white tank shirts that he liked so much. Parker wondered briefly if Jarod was aware how the thin material accentuated his firm muscled curves.
Parker strolled passed Jarod wordlessly. She nonchalantly went about the task of fixing herself a cup of coffee. Eyeing the pretender cautiously as she took her first sips, Parker noticed that the hair at Jarod’s nape was still damp and curling haphazardly. He’d evidently showered recently. The cut on Jarod’s forehead had been tended. Adhesive tape covered most of the cut but Parker could see a butterfly bandage underneath, holding the split flesh together.
Taking her mug, Parker sat at the table in the chair facing Jarod’s. They sat in silence for several long minutes. Parker studied Jarod closely and though many would have squirmed uncomfortably under her piercing gaze, the pretender barely seemed to notice her.
“Have you slept?” Parker asked finally.
Jarod shook his head once but said nothing.
As Parker drained the last of the liquid from her cup, she noticed the red, swollen abrasions on Jarod’s hand. “Is it broken?” she asked simply.
Jarod glanced in the direction Parker indicated and frowned. Wincing slightly as he did so, Jarod alternately flexed his fingers and then made a fist. When the pretender’s hand clenched, the marks took on a recognizable pattern. Only his knuckles had been bruised.
Parker shook her head. “You didn’t hurt your hand in the accident,” she said sternly.
“No,” Jarod replied in a voice little more than a whisper.
“You were in a fight,” Parker stated knowingly.
Jarod lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It wasn’t much of one,” he said.
Parker stood and refilled her cup from the carafe. She returned to her seat and had taken several more sips before Jarod spoke again.
“Have you ever lost your temper Miss Parker?” Jarod asked quietly.
Placing her mug carefully on the tabletop, Parker tried to get a good look at Jarod’s downcast eyes. “Why, did you lose yours last night?” she queried softly.
Jarod swallowed hard. “It always frightens me when it happens. I can feel the rage taking over,” dark watery eyes lifted to meet Parker’s gaze. “But I just can’t seem to care. It’s as though all the darkness and pain inside me is rushing to get out all at once. A black cloud of hostility just vomits out of me and at that moment, I am perfectly capable of murder.”
Jarod gazed at a vacant spot somewhere to Parker’s left. “It’s happened before,” he whispered. “I stumbled across a kidnapping once and managed to locate the missing boy. I very nearly killed his abductor. I can’t explain what stopped me.” Jarod rubbed one hand over his face wearily. “It’s usually a kidnapping that sets me off. I was working with the FBI when we caught a man who’d killed most of the boys he had stolen. I think I would have beaten him to death if one of the other officers hadn’t dragged me away.”
“Jarod,” Parker said as calmly as she could. “Did you kill someone last night?”
Jarod blinked mildly at her candor. “No,” he shook his head. “But I wanted to.”
Parker heaved a silent sigh of relief.
“If Lyle had tried to fight back,” Jarod commented mildly. “I may have simply snapped his wretched neck.”
“Lyle?” Parker’s eyebrows rose dramatically. “You went after my brother? Did he have something to do with the accident?”
“No,” Jarod shook his head.
“Are you sure?” Parker frowned.
“Yes,” the pretender replied. “Lyle is in a very delicate position at the moment. He doesn’t like having us in power but he can’t afford to let anyone else oust us. We seem the be the more acceptable risk for him to deal with at the moment.”
Parker pondered that for a few minutes. After a long pause she asked, “If Lyle wasn’t responsible, then who was?”
Jarod shrugged.
“It won’t be easy finding out,” Parker sighed heavily.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jarod said simply. “Lyle will uncover our saboteur.”
Eyebrows rising once again, Parker shook her head in confusion. “You’ve put Lyle on this?”
“Why not?” Jarod asked in a hard voice. “He’ll be able to snoop around amongst our enemies. Everyone knows that there is no love lost between us. Those who hate me will be much more likely to confide in Lyle than they will in Sam or Kurt.”
“Has it occurred to you that this will give my brother the opportunity to network with the very people who want you gone?” Parker said pointedly. “You’re putting Lyle in a position where he can begin plotting against us.”
Jarod shoved his mug away in disgust. “Lyle has been scheming from the start. Don’t think for one minute that he isn’t doing his best to skulk his way back into the Chairman’s office.”
“Then why help him do it?” Parker cried in exasperation.
“Because Lyle can get the job done,” Jarod answered icily. “He’ll do his best to get into my good graces for the time being. I’m simply using that to my advantage for as long as it lasts.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Parker sighed.
“I always do,” Jarod answered ruefully, his voice tainted with self- loathing.
“You say that as if it was a bad thing,” Mercedes’ voice chided from the doorway. As she headed toward the coffee pot, she asked brightly, “How are you feeling this morning?”
Jarod shrugged noncommittally.
Taking her cup, Mercedes stepped to Jarod’s side and gently feathered her fingertips across his bandaged brow. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
Jarod’s eyes fluttered closed. With a long sigh, he leaned into the dark woman’s touch as though seeking human contact. “A little,” he admitted.
Bending gracefully, Mercedes brushed back Jarod’s bangs and placed a kiss on the pretender’s forehead just above the adhesive. “There’s a kiss to make it better,” she purred softly.
Jarod smiled sadly in return. Placing one hand on her hip, Jarod held Mercedes in place as he looked up at her. Though the pretender did not pull her closer, the soft touch was enough to keep Mercedes within his personal space.
Parker watched the scene with trepidation. It was quite obvious to her that Jarod’s gruff attitude was a thin veil. He was gazing up at Mercedes with a look of such desperation. It was a look of deep sadness that Parker had seen on his face before. Without realizing it, the other woman was giving Jarod exactly what he craved, human contact.
Unaware of the pretender’s inner turmoil, Mercedes smiled brightly before stepping from Jarod’s side to sit in one of the empty chairs. “Have you told him about our plans?” she asked Miss Parker.
“Not yet,” Parker replied.
Jarod frowned. “What plans?” he asked forebodingly.
“We’ve decided not to go into The Centre today,” Parker stated as she straightened regally in her chair. “We’ve all been working nonstop for more than a month. Our team has earned a day off.”
Jarod eyed both women critically. “You didn’t feel it was necessary to consult with me on this?”
Parker shrugged.
“Don’t be so uptight, Jarod,” Mercedes snipped. “Its Sunday, a day of rest. We are going to have a brunch and read the newspaper. Miss Parker has invited Sydney to spend the day with us.”
Jarod’s suspicious glare swung from one woman to the other.
Parker sighed heavily. “I thought we could all benefit from a little time with our shrink,” she said heavily. “Besides, Syd whips up a damn good omelet.”
“I didn’t know he could cook,” Jarod said slowly.
“He’s no Julia Child,” Parker commented. “But he can whisk an egg with the best of them.”
“Julia Child?” Jarod asked, suddenly curious.
Parker rolled her eyes. “I’ll explain later,” she said as the doorbell chimed through the house. “That will be the delivery boy from Ninni’s market.”
“I hope he brought croissants,” Jarod murmured.
“Do I look stupid?” she asked rhetorically. “Why else would I pay to get Ninni’s out here on a Sunday morning?”
Jarod grinned, brightening the room with his abrupt enthusiasm. “Great,” he said as he stood and followed Parker to the front door. “Let’s eat.”
The pretender’s distress seemed to vanish as he bounded down the hallway like a boy. Parker smiled ruefully. She only wished it could be that easy. Jarod’s demons were beginning to bubble to the surface, and Parker knew she would not be able to fend them off with treats for much longer.
--
“Queen’s knight to queen’s bishop four,” Jarod said. The pretender was lying on the couch in the den, tossing a pillow in the air as though it was a ball. Sydney sat in an easy chair several feet away where he leaned thoughtfully over a chessboard. The pieces were scattered around on the white and black tiles, a testament to the fact that the game had been in progress for some time.
After contemplating the game for several minutes, Sydney moved a black, castle shaped piece. “Queen’s rook to queen’s rook six,” the older man stated. In an attempt to even the odds during the game, Jarod was playing without looking at the board. Even so, the number of black pieces in play had rapidly dwindled.
“Knight’s pawn to pawn five,” Jarod intoned. Halting the movement of his makeshift toy, Jarod craned his neck to glance over at the elder man. “I’ll have you in checkmate within three moves Sydney,” he said simply.
“Thank you for the warning, Jarod,” Sydney replied.
The pretender shrugged and turned back to the twirling pillow. Studying the game in front of him, Sydney smiled affectionately. Jarod was indeed threatening Sydney’s king and there was little the psychiatrist could do to prevent the loss. Leaning back in resignation Sydney laced his fingers and gazed at the younger man.
Jarod’s long frame stretched across the length of the couch. The pretender seemed more relaxed than he had all day. Since his arrival this morning, Sydney had seen Jarod flit through a wide range of emotions. Joking laughter, brittle anger and distant withdrawal had all been part of Jarod’s disposition during the long afternoon.
Sydney had found the opportunity to talk one on one with each of the other members of the team. Though all were a bit unnerved by the attempt on their lives, they seemed to accept the incident as an inevitable part of the job they were trying to accomplish. Ishmael had felt a greater responsibility at first, but after discussing the situation, that guilt had begun to fade.
Jarod, however, had been particularly tightlipped about last night’s fiasco. Subtle prying on Sydney’s part had resulted in no response from the younger man. Watching the pretender closely, Sydney noted the ease with which the tasseled pillow flipped through the air. Jarod moved with such graceful nonchalance that Sydney abruptly realized it was a performance.
Throwing caution to the wind, Sydney spoke, “Miss Parker is concerned.”
Jarod blinked for a moment at the sudden shift in their discussion. “Parker worries too much,” he said with half a shrug.
“I understand that you and Lyle had a bit of a run in,” Sydney pressed.
“She has a big mouth too,” Jarod grumbled.
Sydney tilted his head curiously at his former protégé. “Why form an alliance with Lyle?” he asked.
“Parker knows my reasons,” Jarod stated gruffly. The pillow continued its whirling pattern through the air.
“Would you like to talk about your temper?” Sydney asked relentlessly.
The pillow abruptly stopped and Jarod sighed heavily. “You’re not going to let this go are you?” he asked wearily.
“Do you really want me to?” Sydney replied gently.
Jarod sat up and glared at the older man. “Don’t do that, Sydney,” he snapped angrily. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your patients. I don’t need you to be my shrink.”
“What do you need?” Sydney asked.
With an irritated huff, Jarod stood and paced to the window. Pushing the curtain to one side, the pretender peered into the fading light as the sun set in the distance. “I don’t need anything,” he said in a soft but firm voice.
Sydney eyed Jarod’s rigid stance. “Then what do you want?”
Jarod leaned his forehead against the cool pane of glass. He sighed, but said nothing.
“What do you want, Jarod?” Sydney asked again.
Jarod swallowed. “I want to know that I’m doing the right thing,” he said in a voice so soft that Sydney could barely hear it. “I want to know that I can be AT the Centre without becoming part of it.” The pretender spun on his heel and glared at the older man with dark watery eyes. “I want someone to tell me that bad men made the Centre a bad place.”
“Of course they did,” Sydney frowned with confusion.
Jarod stepped forward tentatively. “But what if Mr. Parker was once a good person. Catherine Parker must have seen some good in him or she’d never have married him.” Jarod licked his lips nervously. “Raines was a doctor once. The two of you were friends years ago.”
“I don’t follow you,” Sydney said warily.
“What if,” Jarod’s voice trembled. “It wasn’t bad men who built The Centre, but instead it’s the Centre that changed them?” The pretender glanced away, struggling to rein in the distress that washed across his features. “I’m afraid, Sydney. I’m afraid of losing myself in this pretend, afraid of who I may become.”
Standing quickly, the older man crossed the room and stood before the trembling pretender. “Jarod,” Sydney urged sadly. “You aren’t going to lose yourself. You know who you are, you always have. That is what has kept you sane all these years.” Sydney placed one hand on Jarod’s shoulder reassuringly. “You are a good man and the Centre isn’t going to change you into something you are not.”
Jarod gazed tearfully at his aging mentor. “You weren’t there Sydney,” he whispered. “You didn’t see me beating on Lyle. I could easily have killed him.”
Sydney placed his other hand around the back of Jarod’s neck forcing the younger man to make eye contact. “You could have, but you didn’t,” Sydney said confidently. “We all get angry, Jarod. We instinctively lash out in self-preservation, especially when we are afraid. And something tells me you were badly frightened by that accident.”
Jarod nodded silently.
“They are becoming important to you aren’t they?” Sydney asked in mild amusement.
The pretender nodded again. “Six months ago, if anyone had told me I’d be living with the ice queen and a team of sweepers,” Jarod sniffed. “I’d have sworn that heavy sedation would need to be involved.”
Sydney cocked one eyebrow wryly. “Sedation for you? Or for Miss Parker?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Probably both,” Jarod replied.
The two men eyed each other in silence for several heartbeats then abruptly burst into laughter.
Impulsively wrapping the pretender in a warm embrace, Sydney grinned against the taller man’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Jarod,” he promised. “Once you understand what’s happening, you’ll be fine.”
Hugging the older man close, Jarod asked, “What is it Sydney? What do I need to understand?”
“This isn’t a pretend, Jarod,” Sydney smiled affectionately. “This is you. This is your life and you alone control it now.”
Jarod sighed forlornly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Sydney pulled back so that he could look into Jarod’s dark eyes. “That choice is yours as well you know. You are only alone because you permit it.”
Jarod nodded thoughtfully. Snuggling back into Sydney’s embrace, the pretender sighed with contentment.
“Feeling better?” Sydney asked rubbing soothing circles on younger man’s back.
“I’m starting to, Sydney,” Jarod replied. “I’m starting to.”
of MTM, TNT and NBC Productions and are used without permission. No profit has been made...you know the drill.
Of Envy and Darkness
02/22/04
Part7 – By Phenyx
-
Jarod ducked into the doorway of a closed coffee shop and hid in the shadows while a man and woman strolled passed him. The couple walked hand in hand talking softly about some movie they had just seen. At one point, they were so close that Jarod was able to identify the woman’s perfume as her scent wafted by. Jarod could have reached out and stroked her blonde hair but the pair drifted away without realizing they were being watched.
It was late, nearly midnight. It had taken longer to get here than Jarod had intended. But caution was the key. He’d made this brief journey on foot. Rumpled and blood-spattered as he was, the pretender could not afford to be seen.
The cut on Jarod’s forehead had stopped bleeding but was still throbbing painfully. His twelve hundred dollar suit was ruined, caked with mud, grass stained and bloody. Jarod’s shoes were equally destroyed, scraped and scratched as he ran through the night. The pretender looked, appropriately enough, as though he’d just crawled away from the scene of an accident. Jarod had no desire to be stopped by some good Samaritan passers-by or worse yet, a concerned police officer.
Once the coast was clear, Jarod slipped from his hiding place and dashed across the street to the luxury apartment building on the corner. The security at the front door was easily avoided by a man of Jarod’s talents and within a matter of minutes the pretender was jogging up the stairway to the seventh floor. Elevators tended to have surveillance cameras.
Pressing his back against the wall, Jarod waited for a moment to catch his breath. He eased the door open and quickly peered into the hall. When he found the corridor empty, Jarod slid into the passageway without a sound. Moving with the grace and stealth of a cat, Jarod hurried passed several apartments until he reached his destination.
The pretender placed one hand over the peephole in the door before rapping firmly on the polished wooden panel. At this time of night, caution would prevent anyone in their right mind from answering under these circumstances. But Jarod knew that his quarry would open up, against all better judgment. Greed, arrogance, and an over-inflated sense of superiority made the target careless, always had.
Jarod didn’t bother knocking again. He simply waited with his palm cupped over the eyehole. His head hung low and his eyes closed as he listened carefully to the sounds of movement on the other side of the door. The pretender’s head cocked to one side as silence fell. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and Jarod knew that someone was pressed against the opposite side of the wooden plank, listening in return.
With a soft click, the shiny brass knob began to turn. The door had only barely shifted on its hinges before Jarod exploded against it. As the pretender crashed into the hard oak, there was a yelp of surprise. The door banged open, striking an inner wall loudly and rebounding as Jarod stormed through the opening.
“Damn predictable,” Jarod hissed as he shoved a startled Lyle to the floor. Grabbing the edge of the door with one hand, Jarod slammed it closed behind him and advanced. The sound of metal scraped across the tiled floor, Lyle’s gun skittering from his grasp as he fell with a thud.
No sooner had the man hit the ground than Jarod struck at him. Snatching Lyle by the front of his shirt, Jarod hauled the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The pretender punched him hard in the stomach and when Lyle doubled over, Jarod’s knee jerked up and cracked against Lyle’s face.
Jarod’s firm grasp on Lyle’s shirt prevented the man from careening backward. The pretender took the opportunity to ram his fist into Lyle’s abdomen a second time. Rage seared through Jarod’s body and he willingly gave it free rein, pounding into Lyle with a series of rapid jabs. A quick uppercut with his opposite hand and Jarod sent Lyle sprawling on the floor.
Lyle, bleeding from his nose and a split lip, backed away as quickly as he could, shielding himself with his arms. “Wait, wait!” he yelled.
“Get up,” Jarod snarled. “GET UP!”
Blinking in astonishment, Lyle stared up at his attacker. “Jarod?” he asked incredulously. “What happened?”
In response, Jarod grabbed Lyle’s shirtfront and lifted him from the floor. Pinning the other man to the wall, Jarod rammed Lyle against the plaster for emphasis as he spoke. “Did you sabotage my limo?” the pretender growled dangerously.
“No!” Lyle cried.
“Do you know who did?” Jarod asked, banging the back of Lyle’s head against the wall with each syllable.
“No!” Lyle vowed. “I swear, Jarod. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Leaning in so closely that their noses nearly touched, Jarod hissed, “Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s the truth,” Lyle gulped.
Jarod abruptly deflated, releasing Lyle and leaning against the wall wearily. As though someone had flipped a switch, the pretender’s anger seemed to vanish. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” Jarod sighed.
Dabbing tenderly at his sore nose, Lyle shrugged. “I have no reason to harm you Jarod.”
“But you want to,” Jarod scoffed.
“To be honest,” Lyle said ruefully. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“I’ve had a bad night, Bobby,” Jarod groaned. “Don’t yank my chain. I’m just not in the mood.”
“Let’s face it,” Lyle said. “The Yakuza would prefer to see me dead. The Triumvirate thinks I’m a bumbling idiot, thanks to you and my dear sister.” As he continued to talk, Lyle walked into the kitchen and grabbed a towel from the counter. Jarod followed and watched from a distance as the other man wet the towel at the sink and pressed the terrycloth to his lip. “Mr. Parker is dead and Raines has vanished, leaving me alone and out in the cold. Everyone believes that I’m more trouble than I am worth. There is only one reason nobody has put a contract out on me already.”
Jarod raised one eyebrow questioningly.
“You want me around to play the patsy,” Lyle grimaced distastefully. “I’m in reserve to be your fall guy should the need arise. Performing as your punching bag is just a bonus.”
“It sounds to me like you hate my guts,” Jarod drawled.
“Only as much as you hate mine,” Lyle smiled evilly.
“You’d like me dead,” Jarod eyed the other man critically. “You rigged the car didn’t you?”
“No, Jarod,” Lyle stated simply. “I didn’t.” Tossing the towel aside angrily Lyle hissed, “No one is going to ally with me against you and your bitches. All I can do is try to stay on your good side long enough to regain some credibility.”
Jarod crossed his arms stubbornly. “I won’t let you go back to your old games, Lyle,” he said.
“You can’t watch me forever,” Lyle said confidently. “I’ll find a way back to the top. I always find a way.”
The two men stared grimly at each other, sizing each other up like dogs before a fight.
With a sudden sigh Lyle asked, “Do you want to clean up? You look like hell.” Not waiting for a response, Lyle pulled open a drawer and retrieved a clean dishtowel. Tossing the item across the room, Lyle stepped aside and gestured Jarod toward the sink.
Jarod eyed Lyle warily as he stepped toward the stainless steel basin. As he turned on the tap, the pretender glanced up and caught his reflection in the shiny surface of a metal wok hanging on the wall. Jarod winced.
Lyle’s comment had been right on the mark, he looked terrible. The lump on Jarod’s forehead was a garish purple in color and split down the center by the jagged, inch-long cut. Blood had begun to seep slowly from the wound again, a result no doubt of the pretender’s exertions. Thick red ooze had been smeared across Jarod’s face and dried on his cheeks. His wide dark eyes seemed to peer out of a mask of blood.
Jarod bent and stuck his head under the cold running water with a sigh.
“Did anyone get hurt?” Lyle asked almost casually.
“Not badly,” the pretender said calmly. “Do you care?”
“Of course,” Lyle purred.
Jarod pulled away from the faucet and splashed a few handfuls of water over his face, washing away the last of the blood. “You are a lying bastard,” Jarod commented as he dried his hair on the towel Lyle had given him.
“All part of my charm,” the other man grinned.
The pretender eyed Lyle intensely for nearly a minute. Just as the other man was beginning to squirm, Jarod spoke. “You once offered me your services, Lyle. You said that you could go places and do things that I can’t.”
“Or won’t,” Lyle agreed.
Jarod tossed the towel aside carelessly and shot Lyle a hard glare. “Find out who tried to kill us today,” he demanded. “I don’t care how you do it but do it quickly.”
Lyle crossed his arms and grinned. “And what will I get for my trouble?” he asked.
The pretender flashed across the room until he stood toe to toe with his rival. “One less beating,” Jarod snarled. “One more day under my protection. Do we understand one another?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Lyle nodded.
Turning on his heel Jarod stormed toward the door. “And Lyle,” he called back over his shoulder. “I want irrefutable proof, preferably pictures or a taped confession. Anything less will lack plausibility coming from you.”
“Yes, sir,” Lyle whispered to the now empty apartment. As quickly and quietly as he had come, the pretender had vanished, leaving Lyle to tend to his new bruises.
--
Sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows when Miss Parker made her way downstairs. It had been a hell of a night. No one had slept well. Aches and pains caused by the accident had prevented it. Ishmael, the most seriously injured in their group, had been given codeine covered Tylenol before being released from the emergency room. The rest of them had been forced to make due with over-the-counter medications.
Parker had been lucky. She had walked away from the accident with barely a scratch. Though her body had been a little stiff this morning, it had been nothing a hot shower couldn’t wash away. Miss Parker’s restlessness had little to do with physical pain. Her few hours in bed had been spent tossing with concern over the missing pretender.
Wearing only blue jeans and an old sweater Parker padded through the big house toward the kitchen. Rounding the corner of the livingroom, she could see light filtering from the crack beneath the kitchen door. The distinct aroma of fresh coffee grew stronger as Parker approached.
When Parker stepped through the swinging door, she found Jarod sitting at the table, staring into his coffee mug. The pretender was dressed in black trousers and a cotton t-shirt. It was one of those generic white tank shirts that he liked so much. Parker wondered briefly if Jarod was aware how the thin material accentuated his firm muscled curves.
Parker strolled passed Jarod wordlessly. She nonchalantly went about the task of fixing herself a cup of coffee. Eyeing the pretender cautiously as she took her first sips, Parker noticed that the hair at Jarod’s nape was still damp and curling haphazardly. He’d evidently showered recently. The cut on Jarod’s forehead had been tended. Adhesive tape covered most of the cut but Parker could see a butterfly bandage underneath, holding the split flesh together.
Taking her mug, Parker sat at the table in the chair facing Jarod’s. They sat in silence for several long minutes. Parker studied Jarod closely and though many would have squirmed uncomfortably under her piercing gaze, the pretender barely seemed to notice her.
“Have you slept?” Parker asked finally.
Jarod shook his head once but said nothing.
As Parker drained the last of the liquid from her cup, she noticed the red, swollen abrasions on Jarod’s hand. “Is it broken?” she asked simply.
Jarod glanced in the direction Parker indicated and frowned. Wincing slightly as he did so, Jarod alternately flexed his fingers and then made a fist. When the pretender’s hand clenched, the marks took on a recognizable pattern. Only his knuckles had been bruised.
Parker shook her head. “You didn’t hurt your hand in the accident,” she said sternly.
“No,” Jarod replied in a voice little more than a whisper.
“You were in a fight,” Parker stated knowingly.
Jarod lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It wasn’t much of one,” he said.
Parker stood and refilled her cup from the carafe. She returned to her seat and had taken several more sips before Jarod spoke again.
“Have you ever lost your temper Miss Parker?” Jarod asked quietly.
Placing her mug carefully on the tabletop, Parker tried to get a good look at Jarod’s downcast eyes. “Why, did you lose yours last night?” she queried softly.
Jarod swallowed hard. “It always frightens me when it happens. I can feel the rage taking over,” dark watery eyes lifted to meet Parker’s gaze. “But I just can’t seem to care. It’s as though all the darkness and pain inside me is rushing to get out all at once. A black cloud of hostility just vomits out of me and at that moment, I am perfectly capable of murder.”
Jarod gazed at a vacant spot somewhere to Parker’s left. “It’s happened before,” he whispered. “I stumbled across a kidnapping once and managed to locate the missing boy. I very nearly killed his abductor. I can’t explain what stopped me.” Jarod rubbed one hand over his face wearily. “It’s usually a kidnapping that sets me off. I was working with the FBI when we caught a man who’d killed most of the boys he had stolen. I think I would have beaten him to death if one of the other officers hadn’t dragged me away.”
“Jarod,” Parker said as calmly as she could. “Did you kill someone last night?”
Jarod blinked mildly at her candor. “No,” he shook his head. “But I wanted to.”
Parker heaved a silent sigh of relief.
“If Lyle had tried to fight back,” Jarod commented mildly. “I may have simply snapped his wretched neck.”
“Lyle?” Parker’s eyebrows rose dramatically. “You went after my brother? Did he have something to do with the accident?”
“No,” Jarod shook his head.
“Are you sure?” Parker frowned.
“Yes,” the pretender replied. “Lyle is in a very delicate position at the moment. He doesn’t like having us in power but he can’t afford to let anyone else oust us. We seem the be the more acceptable risk for him to deal with at the moment.”
Parker pondered that for a few minutes. After a long pause she asked, “If Lyle wasn’t responsible, then who was?”
Jarod shrugged.
“It won’t be easy finding out,” Parker sighed heavily.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jarod said simply. “Lyle will uncover our saboteur.”
Eyebrows rising once again, Parker shook her head in confusion. “You’ve put Lyle on this?”
“Why not?” Jarod asked in a hard voice. “He’ll be able to snoop around amongst our enemies. Everyone knows that there is no love lost between us. Those who hate me will be much more likely to confide in Lyle than they will in Sam or Kurt.”
“Has it occurred to you that this will give my brother the opportunity to network with the very people who want you gone?” Parker said pointedly. “You’re putting Lyle in a position where he can begin plotting against us.”
Jarod shoved his mug away in disgust. “Lyle has been scheming from the start. Don’t think for one minute that he isn’t doing his best to skulk his way back into the Chairman’s office.”
“Then why help him do it?” Parker cried in exasperation.
“Because Lyle can get the job done,” Jarod answered icily. “He’ll do his best to get into my good graces for the time being. I’m simply using that to my advantage for as long as it lasts.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Parker sighed.
“I always do,” Jarod answered ruefully, his voice tainted with self- loathing.
“You say that as if it was a bad thing,” Mercedes’ voice chided from the doorway. As she headed toward the coffee pot, she asked brightly, “How are you feeling this morning?”
Jarod shrugged noncommittally.
Taking her cup, Mercedes stepped to Jarod’s side and gently feathered her fingertips across his bandaged brow. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
Jarod’s eyes fluttered closed. With a long sigh, he leaned into the dark woman’s touch as though seeking human contact. “A little,” he admitted.
Bending gracefully, Mercedes brushed back Jarod’s bangs and placed a kiss on the pretender’s forehead just above the adhesive. “There’s a kiss to make it better,” she purred softly.
Jarod smiled sadly in return. Placing one hand on her hip, Jarod held Mercedes in place as he looked up at her. Though the pretender did not pull her closer, the soft touch was enough to keep Mercedes within his personal space.
Parker watched the scene with trepidation. It was quite obvious to her that Jarod’s gruff attitude was a thin veil. He was gazing up at Mercedes with a look of such desperation. It was a look of deep sadness that Parker had seen on his face before. Without realizing it, the other woman was giving Jarod exactly what he craved, human contact.
Unaware of the pretender’s inner turmoil, Mercedes smiled brightly before stepping from Jarod’s side to sit in one of the empty chairs. “Have you told him about our plans?” she asked Miss Parker.
“Not yet,” Parker replied.
Jarod frowned. “What plans?” he asked forebodingly.
“We’ve decided not to go into The Centre today,” Parker stated as she straightened regally in her chair. “We’ve all been working nonstop for more than a month. Our team has earned a day off.”
Jarod eyed both women critically. “You didn’t feel it was necessary to consult with me on this?”
Parker shrugged.
“Don’t be so uptight, Jarod,” Mercedes snipped. “Its Sunday, a day of rest. We are going to have a brunch and read the newspaper. Miss Parker has invited Sydney to spend the day with us.”
Jarod’s suspicious glare swung from one woman to the other.
Parker sighed heavily. “I thought we could all benefit from a little time with our shrink,” she said heavily. “Besides, Syd whips up a damn good omelet.”
“I didn’t know he could cook,” Jarod said slowly.
“He’s no Julia Child,” Parker commented. “But he can whisk an egg with the best of them.”
“Julia Child?” Jarod asked, suddenly curious.
Parker rolled her eyes. “I’ll explain later,” she said as the doorbell chimed through the house. “That will be the delivery boy from Ninni’s market.”
“I hope he brought croissants,” Jarod murmured.
“Do I look stupid?” she asked rhetorically. “Why else would I pay to get Ninni’s out here on a Sunday morning?”
Jarod grinned, brightening the room with his abrupt enthusiasm. “Great,” he said as he stood and followed Parker to the front door. “Let’s eat.”
The pretender’s distress seemed to vanish as he bounded down the hallway like a boy. Parker smiled ruefully. She only wished it could be that easy. Jarod’s demons were beginning to bubble to the surface, and Parker knew she would not be able to fend them off with treats for much longer.
--
“Queen’s knight to queen’s bishop four,” Jarod said. The pretender was lying on the couch in the den, tossing a pillow in the air as though it was a ball. Sydney sat in an easy chair several feet away where he leaned thoughtfully over a chessboard. The pieces were scattered around on the white and black tiles, a testament to the fact that the game had been in progress for some time.
After contemplating the game for several minutes, Sydney moved a black, castle shaped piece. “Queen’s rook to queen’s rook six,” the older man stated. In an attempt to even the odds during the game, Jarod was playing without looking at the board. Even so, the number of black pieces in play had rapidly dwindled.
“Knight’s pawn to pawn five,” Jarod intoned. Halting the movement of his makeshift toy, Jarod craned his neck to glance over at the elder man. “I’ll have you in checkmate within three moves Sydney,” he said simply.
“Thank you for the warning, Jarod,” Sydney replied.
The pretender shrugged and turned back to the twirling pillow. Studying the game in front of him, Sydney smiled affectionately. Jarod was indeed threatening Sydney’s king and there was little the psychiatrist could do to prevent the loss. Leaning back in resignation Sydney laced his fingers and gazed at the younger man.
Jarod’s long frame stretched across the length of the couch. The pretender seemed more relaxed than he had all day. Since his arrival this morning, Sydney had seen Jarod flit through a wide range of emotions. Joking laughter, brittle anger and distant withdrawal had all been part of Jarod’s disposition during the long afternoon.
Sydney had found the opportunity to talk one on one with each of the other members of the team. Though all were a bit unnerved by the attempt on their lives, they seemed to accept the incident as an inevitable part of the job they were trying to accomplish. Ishmael had felt a greater responsibility at first, but after discussing the situation, that guilt had begun to fade.
Jarod, however, had been particularly tightlipped about last night’s fiasco. Subtle prying on Sydney’s part had resulted in no response from the younger man. Watching the pretender closely, Sydney noted the ease with which the tasseled pillow flipped through the air. Jarod moved with such graceful nonchalance that Sydney abruptly realized it was a performance.
Throwing caution to the wind, Sydney spoke, “Miss Parker is concerned.”
Jarod blinked for a moment at the sudden shift in their discussion. “Parker worries too much,” he said with half a shrug.
“I understand that you and Lyle had a bit of a run in,” Sydney pressed.
“She has a big mouth too,” Jarod grumbled.
Sydney tilted his head curiously at his former protégé. “Why form an alliance with Lyle?” he asked.
“Parker knows my reasons,” Jarod stated gruffly. The pillow continued its whirling pattern through the air.
“Would you like to talk about your temper?” Sydney asked relentlessly.
The pillow abruptly stopped and Jarod sighed heavily. “You’re not going to let this go are you?” he asked wearily.
“Do you really want me to?” Sydney replied gently.
Jarod sat up and glared at the older man. “Don’t do that, Sydney,” he snapped angrily. “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your patients. I don’t need you to be my shrink.”
“What do you need?” Sydney asked.
With an irritated huff, Jarod stood and paced to the window. Pushing the curtain to one side, the pretender peered into the fading light as the sun set in the distance. “I don’t need anything,” he said in a soft but firm voice.
Sydney eyed Jarod’s rigid stance. “Then what do you want?”
Jarod leaned his forehead against the cool pane of glass. He sighed, but said nothing.
“What do you want, Jarod?” Sydney asked again.
Jarod swallowed. “I want to know that I’m doing the right thing,” he said in a voice so soft that Sydney could barely hear it. “I want to know that I can be AT the Centre without becoming part of it.” The pretender spun on his heel and glared at the older man with dark watery eyes. “I want someone to tell me that bad men made the Centre a bad place.”
“Of course they did,” Sydney frowned with confusion.
Jarod stepped forward tentatively. “But what if Mr. Parker was once a good person. Catherine Parker must have seen some good in him or she’d never have married him.” Jarod licked his lips nervously. “Raines was a doctor once. The two of you were friends years ago.”
“I don’t follow you,” Sydney said warily.
“What if,” Jarod’s voice trembled. “It wasn’t bad men who built The Centre, but instead it’s the Centre that changed them?” The pretender glanced away, struggling to rein in the distress that washed across his features. “I’m afraid, Sydney. I’m afraid of losing myself in this pretend, afraid of who I may become.”
Standing quickly, the older man crossed the room and stood before the trembling pretender. “Jarod,” Sydney urged sadly. “You aren’t going to lose yourself. You know who you are, you always have. That is what has kept you sane all these years.” Sydney placed one hand on Jarod’s shoulder reassuringly. “You are a good man and the Centre isn’t going to change you into something you are not.”
Jarod gazed tearfully at his aging mentor. “You weren’t there Sydney,” he whispered. “You didn’t see me beating on Lyle. I could easily have killed him.”
Sydney placed his other hand around the back of Jarod’s neck forcing the younger man to make eye contact. “You could have, but you didn’t,” Sydney said confidently. “We all get angry, Jarod. We instinctively lash out in self-preservation, especially when we are afraid. And something tells me you were badly frightened by that accident.”
Jarod nodded silently.
“They are becoming important to you aren’t they?” Sydney asked in mild amusement.
The pretender nodded again. “Six months ago, if anyone had told me I’d be living with the ice queen and a team of sweepers,” Jarod sniffed. “I’d have sworn that heavy sedation would need to be involved.”
Sydney cocked one eyebrow wryly. “Sedation for you? Or for Miss Parker?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Probably both,” Jarod replied.
The two men eyed each other in silence for several heartbeats then abruptly burst into laughter.
Impulsively wrapping the pretender in a warm embrace, Sydney grinned against the taller man’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Jarod,” he promised. “Once you understand what’s happening, you’ll be fine.”
Hugging the older man close, Jarod asked, “What is it Sydney? What do I need to understand?”
“This isn’t a pretend, Jarod,” Sydney smiled affectionately. “This is you. This is your life and you alone control it now.”
Jarod sighed forlornly, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Sydney pulled back so that he could look into Jarod’s dark eyes. “That choice is yours as well you know. You are only alone because you permit it.”
Jarod nodded thoughtfully. Snuggling back into Sydney’s embrace, the pretender sighed with contentment.
“Feeling better?” Sydney asked rubbing soothing circles on younger man’s back.
“I’m starting to, Sydney,” Jarod replied. “I’m starting to.”
