by Rimmy London
“Probably not,” he conceded. “But it just might buy us some time and keep them from getting tense and pushy.” Our conversation fell silent, and I thought over how meaningless words like tense and pushy sounded. I was sure there were more severe and life-threatening words that would better describe how they might react. Looking back at Maxium, I hoped he would answer my next question.
“Who are they?” I hoped that if Maxium had been able to completely infiltrate the group, he should at least know this. He shifted in his seat, rubbing one hand under his chin and looking like he might ignore me altogether. Finally, he cleared his throat and leaned over the arm of his chair.
“At first I thought it was simply the largest group in organized crime that I had ever encountered. That would be bad enough on its own.”
“You mean like, I don’t know, the mafia?” I felt childish the moment I’d said it, but he was talking about Italy after all. Wasn’t this what he meant? He paused, looking into my eyes and measuring my reaction while he continued.
“There is no Mafia Ms. Lane, it’s been dead for years. Decades. When I was a boy, the crime organization known as the Mafia was decimated, and those that were left swore to uphold the laws of Italy.” He stopped, and although it had been his truth, he looked at me as if he didn’t believe it. My eyes narrowed, but he continued before I could ask. “So where did they go? Hundreds of criminals accustomed to living like royalty? Do you really think they would give up and suddenly be clean as cotton?”
I shrugged. “Max, I…”
“Of course they wouldn’t. But what Italy didn’t realize was they gave those…” he paused, his forehead a bit tinted with rouge. “Those monsters the freedom to take ours. The freedom to lead us to bondage. The freedom to rob us of our chance at normal lives.”
“So, it’s not the Mafia, but it is?” I squinted back at him. He wasn’t making complete sense.
He took a heavy breath, “I’m sorry Ms. Lane, what I should have said is we really don’t know. We have no idea what type of group is after us.”
“So, why did they trust you?” I asked, thoroughly confused after having expected a more direct answer to my very direct question of who we were dealing with. Maxium took a deep breath like he was about to embark on an exhaustive subject.
“Here in the States, they keep almost everyone in the dark. No one knows who they’re really working for. They see the resources involved and know automatically that they want in, but also that it’s something big and they’re probably better off not knowing who the boss is. Everyone pretty much welcomes the secrecy. They range from small crime robbery all the way up to corporate infiltrated jobs. So, over the last three years I have made my way up to a leadership position and subsequently was able to help you escape. I was one of the men they trusted most - if you could call it trust. Of course, that’s all over now. They know, not who I am, but that I was an ally to you.” After a glance at my expression, Maxium sat back in his chair. “But we aren’t trying to take down an entire transcontinental operation. All we need to do is find the connection to Shellbrook and go from there.” I looked into his face, his wide features and dark eyes filled with the compassion that had brought me hope when we had first met. Placing my hand over his, I hoped he would hear the honesty in my voice.
“ I hope you realize that you saved my life twice that day. Once when you first looked at me, and again when you pulled me onto this boat.” Maxium’s eyes were pleasant and warm as he looked back at me in silence.
“You didn’t deserve to be dragged into this. Conner overstepped himself this time.”
“Conner?” I asked, picturing only one man from that horrible day.
“Allen Conner,” he breathed. “That’s his name, the one that everyone on this side of the ocean calls Boss.”
“You mean he’s not Italian?”
“Not in the least.” His expression showed that this bit of information had once thrown him as well. “He practically lived there, but no, he’s not Italian.” I thought back to my encounter with the repulsive man and his gushing voice. His Italian had sounded so severe, I had assumed it to be authentic.
“Max, why…” I hesitated, feeling the emotion rising in my throat and stinging my eyes. Max waited, looking over at me in the silence, “Why me?” I wanted to ask it all, but tears were threatening to crowd my eyes so I left it at why.
Max’s brow furrowed in thought, and unlike his other answers that came expertly and with confidence, this one tumbled out like he was grasping at something that wasn’t there. “Well, you’re Marco’s first hand, really. I mean, Givanni is the nephew, but you’re the financial advisor. Maybe they thought you knew more than you did? Maybe they needed some answers from you.”
“But they never asked me anything - not once. They didn’t even talk to me. There was a man on the phone,” As I spoke it, the memory jumped into my head. I had completely forgotten about it. “They had me tell him who I was?” I shook my head, not making sense of it.
Maxium patted my arm. “You should get some sleep, the morning will come quickly.” That was it? No answer? No guesses even? Just pat me and send me on my way? In disappointment I nodded, standing and thanking him before retreating to the cabin.
It was pitch black below deck, the minuscule light above the stove seeming dimmer than before. I trailed my hands against the wall as I tried to make my way to the lower bunk. I doubted I could sleep, but I needed to try. Max was right, it was probably already halfway to morning. Kicking my toe on the edge of the bed I swore softly, grabbing my throbbing foot and limping close enough to sit down. A quiet laugh from above me had me smiling at myself, some of the tension and fear melting away instantly. “Since when are you a light sleeper?” I asked, feeling it was ironic that a little toe stub would wake him up. Why couldn’t he have been awake earlier before I was downloaded with a pile of frightening information? Sure, maybe it was information that I had asked for, but I doubted it would have been as disturbing coming from Givanni... mostly because he wouldn’t have been as straightforward with me.
“Why, did I miss something?” The mattress above me squeaked against its springs as Givanni shifted.
“Well, no.” I suddenly felt like I was confessing some great intrusion of his privacy, and my heart rate picked up as I continued.!“I was down here eating my salad - thank you, by the way - and you must have had a bad dream… ” I paused, but Givanni was silent so I went on with my explanation, that was now sounding more like an apology. “I tried to wake you, not very hard... ” I decided to edit. “But you seemed to relax after a few minutes so I went upstairs.” It was quiet for what seemed like a long time, and I wondered if maybe he’d fallen back to sleep.
“Hmm,” His smooth voice merely thrummed in his throat. “I’m sorry about that.” I looked up at the bunk overhead, wondering why he felt the need to apologize. Maybe he remembered more than I thought. “I’ve been having the same dream for a solid week,” he explained. “And it makes no sense, but it shakes me, you know? I don’t know how to stop it.” It seemed strange to hear him talk like he needed my help - like he couldn’t fix it on his own. Suddenly I remembered something a roommate had told me and decided it couldn’t hurt.
“I was once told that if you have a recurring dream, all you need to do is repeat it to someone from start to finish and you won’t have it again.” I stopped, realizing that it sounded like some pathetic excuse to weasel the story out of him. I cleared my throat. “But I’ve never actually had a recurring dream, so I don’t know if that works or not. It probably doesn’t.” There. No pressure. Now he had every right to agree with me and change the subject.
“Hmm,” he mulled. I waited, feeling like it would be rude to keep talking. I clearly left him with the option of telling or not telling his dream, and I should wait for an answer. But as the silence stretched on I wondered again if I had lost him to sleep. I reached into my bag, pulling out some pajamas and shampoo. “You’re probably right,” he finally venture
d, making me drop the shampoo on the floor. I searched around in the dark for it. “I’ll have to tell it to you sometime. Right now I’m too exhausted from a week of interrupted sleep.” He yawned loudly. “Night.”
I sighed, wishing I could know what worries someone like him could have. Getting a hold on the shampoo I attempted to run one hand through my tangled hair. “Ew. I can’t possibly sleep until I wash my hair. Would it keep you awake if I showered right now?”
“Hm?” His mumbled voice sounded like I had already woken him. “Oh, no. I don’t think anything could keep me up right now.” Already halfway to the shower with an armful of clean towel, I rushed until I was finally soaking in the hot water.
* * *
The feeling that someone was trying to wake me dragged my mind unwillingly from the dreamless sleep I had sunk into. I squeezed my eyes tighter, wrapping both arms around my pillow. But the bed lurched, and I gasped as I hit the floor. Unable to stop I rolled chaotically toward the bedpost, bracing my hands. My palms hit hard against the solid wood. The howling wind outside filled my ears. It was like the screams of an entire city, and I clutched the wooden post when the boat twisted and groaned. We dipped like the bottom had dropped out from under us and I gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air. I could only imagine the ever-powerful ocean outside rising above our boat and crushing it into a thousand pieces, dragging us helplessly into the cold, dark deep. The image replayed in my mind and had me hyperventilating. I fought against the burning in my lungs and the imagined lack of air. How had it come on so quickly? But I knew that storms could easily sound worse than they really were. I tried to hang on to that thought, but fear quickly squelched it before overpowering me completely. My thoughts no longer stuck together but only held images that gave me no option of moving in any direction. The boat rocked violently a second time and I clung harder. I was unaware of the hands that grabbed and pulled unsuccessfully, not until I felt lips touch my ear.
“Loriel!” The second I heard his voice my mind locked onto it. Strong and confident - and not in any way terrified into desperation. I released the bedpost, attempting to stand in the constantly rocking vessel. The pitch-blackness wasn’t helping, and touching his shoulders I managed to slide my hands over them, securing my arms around his neck and standing with him on unstable legs. Every inch of me shook and I held on desperately. Why was he not panicked? He turned his head, his lips resting on my ear once more as he yelled above the howling. “It’s going to be okay,” he bellowed, his stomach tightening. “The worst is over.” Listening in disbelief, I concentrated on the howling wind, not sure if I was just imagining a weakening in its strength. “It’s okay, Ella,” he repeated, his voice softer.
The storm seemed to respond to his words, sounding more like a whistle than the alarming howl it had first been. Relief flooded through me, and for the first time, I turned away from the storm. With how close we were, I could feel his lips slide across my cheek, and I hardly realized what I was doing when I pressed mine to his warm mouth. His head pulled back in surprise and I jolted back to life, stumbling backward on the uneven floor. He snatched my hand and pulled me back so quickly we collided, his arms wrapping around me again before I could move. Leaving my own arms limply at my sides I leaned my head away from his chest, shocked at what a moment ago had felt so natural. His body shook as he laughed before yelling above the wind. “Ella, really, the storm isn’t as strong as it seems. It’s going to be okay.” I leaned my head against his chest, dreading the sun coming up - when I would have to look him in the eyes.
Chapter 9
The morning did indeed come quickly, and I blushed the instant I opened my eyes. But voices from on deck sounded pleasant and calm. I slid my feet to the floor. Pulling on a light cotton top, my stomach fought with imaginary butterflies that attacked with surprising strength. The button on my khaki shorts became nearly impossible. Once ascending the stairs I tried to find some confidence, but I stopped when I reached the sunlight. It poured over me as if it was already noonday, and it very well could have been. I had no idea how long I’d slept.
Maxium cleared his throat at the sight of me, busying himself with navigating. Givanni, however, smiled pleasantly, his eyes holding my stare until I smiled back and my nerves quieted at his casualness. As I crossed the deck he met me halfway. I started my rehearsed apology but he shook his head. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his eyes searching my face.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered back, ignoring his disapproving look. He reached one arm forward and squeezed my hand.
“So Max, when can Loriel expect to be out of this temperamental water and in the air?” Max smiled back at me, an apology on his face.
“Did the weather frighten you last night, Ms. Lane?” I felt color tint my cheeks, but he continued quickly. “You can expect to be free from the ocean in an hour’s time. We’ll be in the air shortly after that.”
“Breakfast anyone?” Givanni asked cheerfully. He smiled at me as he passed by, disappearing down the stairs and returning with a plate in his hands. Picking a bagel and red apple from the variety of fruit and slices of bread, I glared at my apple before biting into it, momentarily distracted by the crisp texture and juicy inside. After a few more bites, however, I stressed over what I should say to make things more normal between us. But before I could come up with something brilliant the boat bumped against a crumbling wood post and the engine cutting off.
It wasn’t quite what I had expected. Airport? No, definitely not the right word. Pine aroma was strong enough to overpower even the salty sea. Towering evergreen trees crowded into every inch that hadn’t been cleared, leaning over the ocean as if ready to invade. In a dusty clearing amidst a few shabby hangars, a single jet sat buzzing in the silence.
“Ella,” I looked back to see Givanni straddling the ocean, one foot on the boat and one on the dock. Waiting.
“Oh,” As I tripped forward an ocean swell pushed the boat, bumping it against a post and forcing a wall of water up. Givanni was soaked, white transparent shirt now clinging to his every outline - even the rich color of his skin shone through. He didn’t take any notice of it, guiding me ever so close across the small chasm of ocean. I passed quickly, thanking him in a breath and realizing what might have persuaded me the night before.
Once we had disembarked, the atmosphere changed like the flip of a switch, and both my companions became tense. Having already gathered our things, they positioned me between them as we practically sprinted to the waiting plane. The pounding apprehension in my head made me clumsy, and I struggled to keep from tripping on any of the roots or shrubs we raced over. We ducked behind a group of trees and Givanni pulled out his gun. We ran again. I looked out across the clearing and gasped at the form of a man standing in the surrounding trees. There wasn’t time enough to warn them. It all seemed in slow motion as my arm was pulled back, something throwing me to the ground. I never heard a gunshot but Givanni twisted around, coming down on one knee and firing half a dozen times before wrapping one arm around my rib cage and lifting me off the ground. My limbs felt numb. He pulled me to the cover of a small hangar and he lowered me carefully against the back wall.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, hardly giving me a second to answer before he was scanning the trees again. I nodded my head, not really sure if I was or not. Givanni turned to Maxium, who had circled back to join us. Brushing at my arm, I glanced down when my fingers slipped across the skin. The dark red gloss covering my shoulder and dripping from my elbow didn’t register at first, but my mind slowly put the pieces together, searing pain surfacing with it.
“… sure of it, there’s only one man,” Givanni whispered.
“Why would they only send one?” Maxium’s voice was raised, his face fierce.
“My guess is they didn’t know about this place. He must have followed us from the coast.”
“Givanni...” My voice came out as a whisper, and I felt my eyes cloud with tears. Blinking, I cleared my throat, but Givanni’s w
ide eyes were already on me. In the next second, he had torn a strip from his shirt, wrapping it tightly around my increasingly painful shoulder. Taking my other hand, he placed it on top, covering it with his own and pushing down. The pain exploded, shooting into my ribs and down my arm. I leaned away from the pressure, gasping.
“Keep pushing on it!” he said desperately. “You could lose enough blood to pass out, and then we’d really be in trouble.” Pulling me with him, we hovered behind Max. His gunfire didn’t startle me like before as we crossed the remaining distance to the plane. The tires ground forward and Givanni pulled me up with him. Max landed on the floor in the same moment.
“Go!” he yelled, pulling the door closed. The plane lurched forward. My head swirled, and I stumbled along blindly, sinking into the closest chair. Givanni sprinted away, returning with a box that looked entirely too small. The small assortment of bandages and bottles inside were not encouraging.
“I don’t have anesthetic,” Givanni whispered, sounding like he was somewhere in a dream. Max sandwiched himself next to me, holding my free hand like a vice. The smell of alcohol made my heart race, and I felt chilling liquid around my shoulder. “It’s just a cut, no bullet - so that’s good.”
“Look at me, Ella.” Maxium rubbed my arm. I stared back into his face, knowing that fear clearly showed on mine.
“Okay,” Givanni said quietly, giving me the warning I had been waiting for. The stinging shock I felt as the needle slid through my skin was nothing when compared to the pull of plastic thread through the wound. All my breath gusted from my lungs in one choking gust, and I dropped my face into Maxium’s arm. The needle sank deeper into my shoulder and although I tried to hold still, my body had begun to tremble. Max rested his free hand on my hair, mumbling encouragement. With one last pull it was done, and I felt beads of sweat combine to roll down my face. Maxium brushed my hair back, but I didn’t move, my head still pressed into his arm. The sound of pills colliding gave me the slightest bit of hope, and I looked up to see Givanni’s outstretched hand.