by Jane Seville
“Si, Miguel. Buena suerte, my friend.” He hung up.
Ruiz looked up at D. “What do you want of me, you man with no name?”
D smiled a little. “You and me are going to spend some time together, Ruiz. You’re going to answer a lot of questions, draw me some maps, and make some videos. And then you’ll be on a plane.”
~~~~~
Being inside Raoul Dominguez’s house—although “mansion” was a more appropriate word—was oddly reassuring. All the months he’d spent guarding Jack against this man’s machinations, all the months he’d worked to get men out from under his thumb, and getting into his private home had been almost laughably simple. He’d used the old servant’s-entrance trick and disguised himself as a member of the catering crew for Raoul’s daughter’s Quinceañera party. He’d picked up a crate of wineglasses and walked right in. Then he’d shed the waiter’s jacket and slipped upstairs to the man’s private study. He had a theory about why Dominguez had not beefed up his personal security, but he’d find out if he was correct soon enough.
Now, he was waiting. Dominguez was set to see his wife and children off on holiday to Jamaica right after the party. Dominguez himself would not be joining them. He was too busy chasing ghosts. After tonight, he could stop.
D didn’t know when Dominguez was likely to come in here. Tonight, after the party? Not until the morning? It didn’t matter. He’d waited this long; he could wait a little longer.
He was sitting in a wing chair in the shadows, where he’d be concealed from view until Dominguez was behind his desk. He let his head tilt back against the chair and thought of Jack, as he so seldom let himself do. It broke his concentration and churned up all kinds of emotions to let his thoughts dwell on him, so he normally avoided it, but the end was so close now.
All the more reason ta keep yer head about ya and not let yerself get distracted, he told himself, but he just couldn’t seem to do it. The very high probability that he’d be seeing Jack in a few short days was just too much to put out of his mind entirely.
He’d imagined scenario after scenario for how it would happen. He’d imagined Jack’s face when he opened the door to his apartment to see D standing there. He’d imagined lying in wait for him to come out of work. He’d imagined having Megan fetch him to meet at some private spot where they wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking askance. He’d thought that maybe he ought to just let himself into Jack’s apartment and wait for him to come home.
He still hadn’t decided how he’d do it. Walking back into someone’s life was no small task, as it turned out. Logically, he ought to just call him first and let him know he was on the way. But somehow that lacked… drama. Why drama was required, he didn’t know. He just knew that calling first felt wrong.
D checked his watch. It was after midnight. The family ought to be in their limos on their way to the airport by now. The sounds of partying below had given way to the sounds of cleanup. He saw a catering van leave, then another.
Footsteps were approaching. D steeled himself, then had to smile. How much steelier do you even get than normal? he heard Jack say, in that teasing voice that dared to challenge D’s oh-so-serious self-perception.
The door opened. He heard Raoul’s heavy footfalls enter, then the door shut and locked. Perfect.
Raoul walked around to the desk. He wasn’t looking around. He picked up a folder of something and looked at it, then out the window, then back… then froze.
D knew that he was only dimly visible in the dark office, further shadowed by the deep wings of the leather chair in which he sat. Raoul wouldn’t be able to clearly discern his features. D didn’t know what he’d expected, but Dominguez was cool as a cucumber. He slowly put the folder down, then sat in his desk chair, never taking his eyes off D. “I have been expecting you,” he finally said. His voice was like charcoal, burned and ashen.
“I know.”
“How you know?”
“You didn’t take any special security precautions with the house. You could have kept me out if you’d tried.”
“You would eventually bring to me your demands. You have shown you can get to my men, anywhere and anytime you like. Man like you, so careful as to make men disappear like they were never born. Man like you must have a plan. Something he wants, something he wishes me to know that I will give him. Wishes me to know I am in his power.”
“You don’t really believe I’m in your power.”
“How can I not?”
“Because right now you’re using your foot to activate the security measures around this room and trap me here, alerting your muscle.” Raoul blinked. “Too bad I disabled it. Thought it was best we talk alone.”
A long pause spooled out between them. Dominguez could not have missed the gun lying across D’s knees… nor that it was his own gun, stolen from the top desk drawer. “What do you want?” he finally asked.
“Nothing you’ll miss. Nothing it’ll hurt ya ta give me.”
“Then why this… this siege?” Dominguez said, leaning forward a little. The light slid over his eyes and D saw his cold intelligence, his hooded rage. “Months have you labored to demonstrate yourself to me. Why, if it is such a trifle you ask for?”
“I want you to be real clear how serious I am.”
“Man like you is nothing but serious.” Dominguez steepled his fingers before his lips. “Petros, he spoke of you.”
“Did he?”
“Said of all men who walked the earth, there were very few he respected and even fewer that he feared. You were one.”
D didn’t show his surprise on his face. “I ain’t had no idea he even knew who I was.”
“He knew.”
D watched Raoul’s silhouette against the slated exterior lights. “You know what I came here for, don’t you?”
The man sighed. “I have heard talk that you are not long for your profession. Some say you lost the taste. Others say you went soft. Still others say you fear capture. But… the truth is not of these things, is it not?”
“You think you know, then?”
“I think I know men like you. Skill and coldness, this is what is needed. When something to live for is found, they lose these things. Leaving the business of death means you have rediscovered what is joyful in life, yes?”
D said nothing.
“I tell you what you come here for. You have come to force from me an oath that I will not harm Jack Francisco. Him who you love. To make sure I agree, you take my men from me, and from them you take what they know. You will now tell me about the evidence you have, the crates, the envelopes, the films and videos of what they have told you. You will tell me how if anything happens to your man or to yourself, all of it goes to the FBI. Away I fly, join my brother behind bars, my organization smashed to pieces by so much revealed.” Raoul shook his head. “So much time and effort, la sombra. All you had to do was ask.”
“I needed insurance.”
“Dr. Francisco can do me no more harm. I might have taken my venganza in time. Perhaps not. Perhaps seeing you retired, no more killing men in my business who escape the law, perhaps this is reason enough for Francisco to remain free and safe. A man like you bereaved, with nothing to live for, on a vengeance quest of his own….” Raoul chuckled. “That I need like I need a hole in my head, you see?”
D allowed himself a tiny smile. “Guess I coulda jus’ called.”
“I ought to kill you where you sit for those six men lost.”
“Maybe so, but uh… I oughta warn ya that—”
“You’ve taken steps against any such action of mine. Yes, of course you have.” He sighed. “You could tell me where they are.”
“If I did, you’d kill me.”
Dominguez cocked his head back and forth. “Perhaps yes, perhaps no. I may find them myself, you know.”
Now it was D’s turn to chuckle. “You won’t. And I’ve taken steps fer that too. Minute one of ’em goes missin’—”
“Yes, yes. Al
l contingencies covered.” Raoul stood up. “You may tell your doctor to come out of his hidey-hole. He is safe from me and anyone who works for me. I will make it my business that he is safe. No one will come for him.”
D rose to his feet. “I gotcher word on that?”
“My word. Bolstered by all that evidence you have at the ready. How many banks is it split between?”
D smirked. “Fourteen.”
Raoul nodded. “You are nothing if not thorough, Mr. Dane.”
All the air went out of the room, or at least out of D’s lungs.
Dominguez smiled. “Preparations are not only yours to make. And is it not time for you to take that name back?”
~~~~~
It’s over.
It cain’t be over. Musta forgotten somethin’.
You ain’t. You spent months settin’ this up. Yer jus freaked out Dominguez was a step ahead.
What if he goes back on his word?
Yer ready for it. You got the goods on him.
But Jack’ll be dead. Helluva chance ta take.
Was always gonna be a chance, whether he brought it up or you shoved it down his throat. You lettin’ that chance steal away what you want? What Jack wants?
I wanna hide. Safest ta do nothin’. Let him stay there safe. Any chance, small as it is, is too much chance.
Then if he gets hit by a car in a week, won’t you feel like a dumbass? Take what fate’s given ya, asshole. Everthin’ you ever had’s been taken away. Now you been given something. You better take it if ya know what’s good for ya.
Guess… guess there ain’t nothin’ more ta do.
Just go get him.
~~~~~
D consulted the scrap of paper Megan had given him, and then headed up the stairs to the second level. Jack’s was apartment C. A… B… here it is.
He stood before the door, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Hi. Uh… how are ya?
No, no.
Hello, Jack. I’m back.
Shit, that fuckin’ rhymes. Sounds like fuckin’ Sesame Street.
Hi there. Off with yer clothes.
Nothin’ like gettin’ right ta the point, huh?
D ran a hand through his hair. He probably wouldn’t have to say much; if he knew Jack, he’d say enough for both of them.
He took a deep breath, and knocked.
And waited.
And waited.
Shit, he ain’t home.
But Megan said he wasn’t workin’ at Borders tonight.
Don’t mean he cain’t go someplace else, dumbass.
He stepped back from the door, casting his eyes about as if Jack might be hiding nearby, waiting to spring out and surprise him.
For want of a better idea, D headed back the way he’d come, thinking vague thoughts about parking in an unobtrusive spot and watching for Jack to return, then going to the door. He got out his keys as his feet hit the sidewalk, but as soon as he came out from beneath the shadow of the corridor, he felt himself being watched. He turned toward the parking lot.
There was Jack, about thirty feet away. Messenger bag across his chest, keys in hand, sunglasses held in his teeth. His mouth dropped open and the sunglasses fell to the ground, then the keys dropped to the grass with a muted jingle.
D’s breath caught, the sight of him slamming into his stomach like a cannonball. Goddamn, I fergot how fuckin’ beautiful he is. Jack had been primarily an idea to him during their separation, a motivating force, by necessity pushed back from being a flesh-and-blood man so D wouldn’t miss him too badly.
Now, even with Jack way over there, D could suddenly smell his skin and taste his lips again, as if he’d been kissing him not five seconds before.
Jack looked shellshocked. He shut his eyes tight, then opened them again. D smiled, and of all the thousands of first words he’d imagined himself saying, what came tumbling from his mouth was something he’d never even considered.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Jack’s face…. D was hard pressed to describe it, but “imploded” came close. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the concrete lip of the sidewalk. D strode toward him, his arms opening all on their own, wrapping around Jack when he hit D’s chest like one of those snappy metal bracelets that you banged on your wrist. Jack let out a sob; D could feel him shaking, his hands clutching big handfuls of D’s shirt. One of his hands slid up to cup the back of D’s head. “Your hair’s so long,” he stammered.
D chuckled. Of all the things ta comment on first, he picks my hair.
Jack pulled back and grabbed D’s face in his hands, his face wet. “Goddamn, are you real? Or have I just finally gone nuts?”
“Might have, but I am really here, doc.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Jack breathed, and yanked D’s face forward to kiss him, hard and desperate. D gave himself up to it, not caring if anyone saw, if anyone drove in, if anybody was peeking out a window. His arms snaked around Jack’s chest, his reassuring heft in his arms, the warmth of his body seeping through D’s permafrost and melting still more of it, melting him all the way through as he could now allow. He teased Jack’s lips open with his tongue and wallowed, gorging himself, rolling in riches that no longer had to be saved for a rainy day, because no cloud would ever darken the sky again.
They broke off, foreheads together, both breathing hard. “You’re back for good?” Jack whispered, sounding like he was afraid to ask.
D nodded. “It’s all done, Dr. Francisco. You’re a free man.”
“But… how? How did you—”
“Shush,” D said, with a quick headshake. “Time enough for all that. Just lemme bask for a minute before ya start in with all them questions you wanna ask.” Jack fell silent and they stood there, wrapped up tight, for a few moments. “Missed you bad,” D said, quiet.
“Me too,” Jack said, his hand on D’s cheek. “Just tell me one thing, okay?”
“What?”
“Is this for real? Are we… can it….” He stopped and started over. “Are we really going to be together?”
D smiled. “Well, fer now, it looks that way. ’Til we start gettin’ on each other’s nerves, anyway.”
Jack laughed, a quick, surprised chuckle. “God, all I wanted these past months was the chance for you to get on my nerves.”
“Guess yer in luck, then.”
He drew back and looked in D’s eyes again, his own shining. “I can’t believe you really came back, D.”
D sighed, and slid his hands up Jack’s chest to cup his jaw in both hands. “Anson. That’s my name. Anson Dane.” It was so easy to finally say it.
Jack smiled, slow like the dawn breaking, and D felt a lump rise in his throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Anson.”
D pulled Jack close again and hugged him tight, burying his face in Jack’s neck, smelling like sun again today. He shut his eyes and saw his vault, its door hanging wide, wrenched from its hinges, all its contents spilled out and flown away like birds into the sky, the peace of its emptiness filling him with the knowledge that he would never need it again.
Chapter Thirty
This is like a movie.
No, it’s like the end of a movie.
Except it’s actually the beginning.
Dr. Jack Francisco, fully in possession of his birth name, medical credentials, a brand-new driver’s license and reissued Social Security card, had a helpless, doofy smile on his face as he drove down an endless stretch of two-lane blacktop through the Colorado mountains. The sky was blue, it was a warm June afternoon, and he was driving a bright red 1968 Mustang convertible.
He’d just about shit himself when D had driven up in it looking like a movie star, one arm stretched out across the bench seat, smirking underneath his mirrored sunglasses. “I thought you were going to rent a car,” Jack had said, his eyes bugging out of his head.
“Did.”
“I didn’t know Avis rented vintage Mustangs,” he said, grinning as D popped up out of the car, vaulting over the driver’
s side door without opening it like he was in a James Dean movie.
“Don’t,” he said, swaggering over. “I found this vintage car rental place. Thought it’d be… ya know. Fun.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I’m trying to reconcile the idea of you making a decision based on fun and it isn’t working.”
“Hey, if this was up ta me we’d be flyin’ ta Baltimore and be there in six hours, but no. You wanna drive cross-country fer ‘fun.’ So it’s gonna be fuckin’ fun, goddammit.”
“I’m just trying to make up for our last cross-country drive.”
D had sobered. “Yeah. Wasn’t so fun.”
“Well, we made that drive knowing at the end we’d be separated. This time we’re doing it knowing at the end we’ll be together,” Jack said, smiling.
Which was how Jack now found himself in this last shot of a movie, driving off with the setting sun at his back. D was slumped down in the passenger seat, his crossed ankles propped up by the rearview mirror, making his long legs look like they stretched for miles. His head was resting near Jack’s arm, and ever so often he’d lean against him in a way that might have been accidental. What swelled Jack’s heart was that he seemed relaxed. Peaceful. At last.
The past two months had flown by so swiftly it made Jack’s head spin. He hadn’t been prepared to come back from the gym and find D standing on the lawn of his apartment complex. For all the time he’d spent waiting for him, missing him and anticipating his return, when it had finally happened it had been so unexpected that it took him completely off guard. For a moment, he really thought he was seeing things, but then he was in D’s arms again and knew it was real.
They’d staggered up to Jack’s apartment and hadn’t come out for two days. Frantic and nearly beside themselves, the first time they’d tried to make love it hadn’t worked out at all. They were too impatient, too eager, and D had mounted Jack too fast, and it had hurt. Jack had cried out and pushed him away, and D had pulled back, losing his arousal, apologizing all over himself. Jack had tried to reassure him but he’d seemed suddenly lost, and to Jack’s shock he’d burst into tears. Tears he’d been storing up for ten years, Jack suspected.