by Teagan Kade
A light beam cuts through the foliage. We both see it, Sofia struggling to pull her pants up, my cock so stiff and wet it refuses to be bundled back inside my pants.
I manage to get it in and zip up just as footfalls crash through to find us, a single figure standing there with a flashlight in his hand.
He shifts it to Sofia, who’s once more leaning against the tree, her face flushed and her hair tousled. Look up ‘post-coitus’ in the dictionary and I’m pretty sure you’d find that very picture.
I realize it’s a cop, a lone cop, but dangerous all the same.
I think he’s smiling, his accent thick. “Well, looks like someone’s strayed off the path. Making the beast with two backs, were we? Little action for you two?”
I look to Sofia, but she’s been stunned into silence.
The torchlight swings to me briefly and then back to Sofia. I actually hear the officer in question draw a sharp intake of breath this time. “Ms. Montello?” he says, the wise-ass gone.
Sofia’s lost again, unsure what to say.
She doesn’t need to.
The cop lowers the light. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you in those, ah… clothes,” he says.
Talk about a fucking flip-around. This guy was probably gearing up to drag us down the station. Now he wants to kiss her feet?
Yet, I get a bad feeling about it all—a real bad feeling.
The cop doesn’t seem to know what to say. “Anyhow,” he says, his foot shuffling in the leaves, “probably best you head on. This isn’t the best area for someone of your, ah, stature.”
Sofia straightens up. Even without the flashlight I can see her face is beet red with embarrassment. “Thank you, officer,” she squeaks.
He gives a short nod. “You two have a good night, and sorry once again for the intrusion, Ms. Montello.”
He backs away and disappears from sight.
Sofia comes up beside me still tucking in her shirt. “What was that? Do you think he knows my father?”
I think that’s exactly the case, but I play coy. “He’s right. We should get going.”
It’s a far quicker walk back to the safehouse. I think we’ve both had our fill of excitement for one night.
We round the corner, the apartment block ahead looking like an old Lego set.
My cell starts to buzz. I stop on the sidewalk and take it out.
“Who is it?” asks Sofia, a definite edge to her voice that certainly wasn’t there when he headed out.
“It’s a text from Ally. She says they know where we are, to get out of the safehouse.”
“The safehouse?” says Ally.
We both look up at the apartment at the same time.
A single second later the entire third floor explodes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SOFIA
My ears are ringing. We’re both on the ground, flames licking upwards from the windows of the area of the apartment block where the safehouse was located. Someone’s screaming. There’s debris on the sidewalk, bits of brick and glass.
I try to stand up and stumble, reaching to help Ethan to his feet, but he seems just as dazed as I am.
My head’s muddy, but I do know one thing. We need to get the hell out of here.
I see a car screech to a halt in my peripheral vision. I brace to defend myself, but it’s just a skinny guy yelling something at us. I think he’s trying to ask if we’re okay. Ethan’s already tucking me under his arm and heading in the opposite direction.
There’s a tiny cut on his cheek, but he looks otherwise okay, if a little stunned.
And for good reason. A minute or two later and we’d be roasting up there right now.
The ringing in my ears starts to abate, but my head’s still pounding. Ethan shifts us into an alleyway and holds my face in his hands.
“You okay?”
I nod. “I think so.”
He checks me over, turning my head left and right, and that’s when I realize I remember.
I remember it all.
“What is it?” asks Ethan in panic. He looks unhinged, like a junkie who’s been strung out too long.
“I remember,” I tell him. “Everything.”
That seems to get through.
“Good,” he says, “great, but first we’ve got to get out of here, yes?”
“Yes,” I reply, wishing this headache would go away
The memories are flooding in now, like the explosion has somehow jarred them loose. As I see them, as I feel them, I realize it wasn’t any physical reason that was holding them back. No, in the horror there, the horror of the things my father has done, I realize it was all emotional—a block to keep me from remembering, from wanting to remember.
Another car pulls to a stop at the end of the alleyway, but this is an SUV, one that’s all too familiar.
The doors open and I drop onto one knee, lifting the back of Ethan’s jacket and pulling the gun Senya gave him free. I brace my arms and fire methodically, five rounds right into the body of the SUV.
“Let’s go,” I shout, standing and ushering Ethan behind me, continuing to fire at the car, the recoil reverberating through my body.
I know my head’s answering rapid-fire questions, like ‘Where the hell did you learn to do that?’ for one, but I don’t have time to dwell on it, cutting down the nearest side street and breaking into a run alongside Ethan.
He’s looking at me like I’m ET the alien.
“I’ll explain later,” I bark, pointing the gun towards another alley. We make for it and crouch behind a pile of pallets, watching, but the SUV’s a no-show.
I peer from the alley and spot a parking garage across the road. “Come on.”
We make it across the road, running together down the ramp and heading to the furthest corner of the garage we can find, a dark alcove near the fire exit complete with dripping pipe and the sharp smell of urine.
Ethan’s keeping watch, but I think we’re safe for now.
He spins around, looking down at the gun in my hand. “Oh, you’re going to tell me where you learned to shoot like that. You’re going to tell me everything.”
*
Ethan is slumped against a wall at the back of the parking garage. There’s been no sign of anyone coming in, but waiting until nightfall before leaving seems like the best option.
I’m concerned that Ethan keeps reaching up to his head, but he seems to have regained most of his sense. Then again, it could be the massive info-dump I’ve just laid on him which is doing his head in.
I can see him trying to process it all. “So the FBI taught you how to shoot?”
I nod, leaning against the wall beside him. “I told them if they wanted my help putting my father away it was the one thing they had to do, show me how to protect myself.”
“And you’ve got handlers, at the FBI, people you can get in touch with?”
It’s so nice being able to recall things instantly, though I can see now why my body wasn’t fighting against certain memories. “Mark Walsh and Lynna Phelps. There’s a number I can call.” It lights up in my head.
Ethan hands me over his cell. “Go on. Maybe they can get us out of here.”
I dial and wait, but a robotic voice announces the line is out of order.
“The line’s down,” I tell Ethan, handing his phone back.
“That’s not a good sign.”
I look to the entry of the parking lot, but it’s still clear. “No, it’s not, especially considering it’s the only number I can reach them on, but we can do this. We’ve just got to be smart about it.”
Ethan nods in approval, his hands hanging over his knees. “I’ve been in plenty of firefights before, but all that was different. I was in a desert for one, the enemy clear. Out here…” He trails off.
I crouch down. “One step at a time,” I tell him. “Together.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ETHAN
Given the safehouse has been BBQed, we head to a less frequ
ented part of town I know won’t ask questions when we fail to show ID.
Sure enough, the proprietor of the Honeybell Motel, a rotund woman whose hair doesn’t look like it’s seen a brush in twenty years, is happy to take our cash in place of identification. I examine the small lobby, pretty damn sure that’s a bullet hole in the wall to the left, or a peephole.
Key in hand, I open the door to room twelve and usher Sofia inside. I’m sure it’s not the five-star accommodation she is used to. Hell, I don’t even know if this is single star, but Sofia gingerly settles on the bed and smiles. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, right?”
I take a seat beside her, the mattress giving way with an audible creak. “The Hilton was all out of rooms, sorry.”
She takes my arm, her head falling onto my shoulder. “What now?”
I can see our reflection in the boxy television on the dresser. We look tired more than anything. I swear I’ve aged five years in the last five days, and I’d happily age fifty more if it means being with Sofia.
“I don’t know if I should hang here and set you loose given that shooting. You didn’t mention you were the Black Widow.”
Sofia laughs. “You want to know something really crazy? I think I’ve actually met Scarlett Johannsson. Pretty sure I’ve met a lot of celebrities, actually.”
“But you’ve got to admit that was some serious John Wick shit going on there. I mean, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t turning me on.”
She pushes off, staring at me. “I remember liking the shooting range. It was sort of, I don’t know, peaceful in a way, meditative—just you and the target, all your focus on one thing, no outside distractions.”
“Most girls are content with Zumba and Bachelor marathons, you know.”
“I think you’re learning pretty fast I’m not your average girl.”
“No, ma’am.”
She’s right about that, a million miles away from the shy, comatose girl from the hospital.
A moment of silence descends.
I stand. “I’m going to head out,” I announce, “get us a bite to eat—provided I can find something that’s actually edible around here.”
Sofia smiles up at me. For someone who was such a guns blazing badass before, I do see hints of the old Sofia—meek and quiet. It’s strange, almost like I’m seeing two women at once.
Dream come true, hey?
I internally scold my head. I’ve been with two girls before. It was, in short, complicated, and not just trying to work out who went where or did what—sexual Twister.
“Stay here,” I tell Sofia, not really sure whether I should be the one ordering her around or vice-versa.
“I will,” she replies. “You won’t be long?”
“You won’t even know I’m gone.”
I step out and close the door, Sofia locking it behind me.
I rub my hands together against the cold and look around. Where to, where to?
I decide to head north on the main road, locating a Chinese restaurant a couple of blocks up that, much like our hotel room, hasn’t seen a cleaning cloth or vacuum since the middle ages. But it’s cold out and I can’t be bothered walking further.
An elderly woman greets me at the counter. I order and take a plastic chair by the wall.
My head’s still pounding from the explosion, the wound on my hand’s pulsing a bit, but I’m otherwise intact. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. If we were up there… Another minute…
God, I hate to even consider it.
The smart thing, I think, is to keep Sofia hidden. Then again, how did the mafia know about the safehouse in the first place? Something’s not adding up.
And that cop in the park—that was suspicious enough. He clearly recognized Sofia, went out of his way to make sure he was being respectful. Just how much influence does her family have around here? How wide does their reach extend? To a two-bit motel? Not likely, though it can’t be ruled out.
I smile to myself, more of the fact in the space of just over a week I’ve gone from a paramedic to basically a fugitive.
Who’s doing nothing wrong, my head interjects.
Except fall for the wrong woman, perhaps.
Sure, things may have become more complex where Sofia is concerned, but my feelings for her haven’t changed. I don’t think they ever will.
“Order for E-than!”
I stand and collect the Chinese.
*
I knock twice on the door. “It’s me.”
There’s a moment before it opens. I hold the Chinese up. “Special delivery,” I announce, soon dropping it back down when I see who else is in the room. “Ally?”
“Come in,” says Sofia.
I walk in and dump the Chinese on the table. “What’s going on here?”
The last person I expected to be here was Ally. I’m annoyed, definitely, but I think my irritation is directed at Sofia for revealing our location, BFF or not.
Sofia stands in front of me, lowering her voice. “It’s okay. I called her.” She stands aside so I can see the bed. “She’s brought money, weapons.”
Ally’s got one arm across her stomach, slouching. “I hope it helps. It’s all I could get on such short notice.”
But my spidey senses are fucking tingling up a storm. “You didn’t come here for anything else?” I ask, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible and not give away my suspicion.
Ally starts to walk over, the three of us forming a triangle in the center of the room. I’m not imagining it. Ally looks nervous.
She goes to open her mouth, but presses her lips closed. She seems on the verge of telling us something.
“Ally?” I press.
“Ally?” adds Sofia, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“I,” Ally starts, before lifting her head and smiling. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad to see you again. That’s all.”
I’m not convinced.
Ally twirls her hand. “I should really be going, anyhow, leave you two to it.”
Sofia embraces her. “Thanks for bringing the stuff over. I owe you one.”
Ally smiles back, but it’s not fully formed. “You owe me about ten, but sure. I’m here for you. Remember that.”
“I will.”
Ally nods at me as she passes towards the room door. “Ethan.”
“Ally,” I reply.
I press the door closed behind her and lock it, standing there with one hand against it while I try to collect my thoughts.
“What is it?” asks Sofia, sensing something’s off. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You called her?”
“Yes.”
“And what did she say?”
“She said she had some things to bring over, asked where we were staying.”
I push off the door. “You don’t think that’s a little bit suspicious? Think about it.”
“Are you saying you think Ally is involved in this in some way?”
Sofia shakes her head, folding her arms and pacing. “No, I don’t think so. She wouldn’t do that. We’ve been best friends forever. We went on holidays together as teenagers, talked about our dreams and crushes. I helped pull one of her teeth out when I was five. She wouldn’t betray me.”
“Can you really be sure? Really?”
Sofia considers it. “Yes. I can.”
I start looking around for our things. “We should get out of here.”
“We just arrived,” protests Sofia.
“It’s not safe, Sofia.”
“You think Ally was the one who told them where the safehouse was, don’t you?”
I stop what I’m doing. “The truth? Yes, I damn well do.”
“She was the one who told us to get out of the safehouse, remember? Why would she do that if she was working against us?”
That I can’t answer, and it’s a valid point, but I’ve learned over the years to trust my gut. When I was serving, good instincts were the difference between staying al
ive and being sent home in a pine box.
“I don’t trust her,” I tell Sofia. “Simple as that.”
She approaches me, wrapping her arms around me and pressing the side of her face into my chest. I bring my hands down on her head, holding her in place.
“Let’s stay,” she says, her words vibrating against me. “We have weapons, food… a bed. How is anywhere else going to be safer?”
“Alright,” I relent, “but we leave tomorrow, deal?”
“Deal,” she replies, cooing against me before breaking away and rubbing her hands together. “Now, where’s this food? I’m starving, and something tells me I’m going to need energy for later,” she winks.
“What’s happening later?” I query, knowing full well what she’s implying.
She opens one of the takeaway bags, breathing in the greasy mix of food within. “I’m going to give you a concussion of a different kind.”
CHAPTER EIGHTTEEN
SOFIA
I remember my old life now, all of it, but I’ve never felt so secure and safe before, not like when I’m in Ethan’s arms.
I’m dreaming, lost in a sleep world of teal and orange when a sound jerks me back into the motel room.
Ethan’s still holding me, my leg crossed over his, his body warm.
I hear the same sound again, sure now it’s nothing natural. In fact, it seems to coming from directly outside the door.
I take hold of Ethan’s shoulder and shift it back and forward. “Ethan, wake up.”
His eyes flicker open. He grabs me, rolling me over until I’m on top of him, his very obvious erection sitting at the crotch of my panties. “Midnight snack, huh? I won’t say no.”
I roll off him and get out of bed, looking for my clothes. “Get up,” I whisper. “I think someone’s outside.”
That puts him into gear. He’s out of bed in seconds, pulling on a shirt and scooping his jeans off the floor.
He tosses a hoodie over, halfway with his own on.
There’s a clicking sound and I know full well now someone’s trying to get inside.
Ethan brings a finger to his lips and points to the wall next to the front door, signaling for me to crouch down.
I’m only just getting my pants on and doing my best crouch and walk to the front of the room.