Finding Home with You

by Claire Raye

  It suddenly occurs to me that Erin has spent her whole life hiding. Hiding who she is, where she came from and all the secrets and lies she knows. I can’t imagine the impact that has had on her over the years, but I know that it makes everything that’s happened between us all make so much more sense now.

  Why she was so reluctant for us to become serious, why she’s always been so scared to admit how she feels or what she truly wants. The barriers she’s been forced to put up have closed her off to the belief that she can have a life, that she can be loved by somebody without getting hurt.

  It kills me to know this fucker has done this to her.

  “Erin,” I say, pulling our hands to my lips now.

  “I should go,” she says, staring out the window.

  “Babe, look at me,” I say, waiting until she does. “I love you, okay? No matter who your family is or what’s happened in the past. I love you and none of that other shit matters to me.” I watch as she swallows hard, her eyes roaming my face. “This will all be over soon,” I continue. “And then we have the rest of our lives to look forward to.” She nods now, but doesn’t say anything. I lean over and press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll be watching you the whole time,” I whisper against them. Then I get out of the car.

  I watch as Erin drives to the end of the pier before moving into position. I check in with the others using the radios Finn brought from his station. Everyone is all set, eyes and guns trained on Erin as she parks at the end of the pier and gets out of the car.

  A heavy weight sinks in my gut, a feeling of dread washing over me as I watch her from my vantage point. Even though I know there are six sets of eyes on her, I can’t help but think how isolated and alone she looks.

  Suddenly a black town car turns down the road, slowly cruising to the end of the pier.

  “He’s here,” I say. “Erin, do you see him.”

  I watch as she nods, not giving away the wire she’s wearing.

  Then he’s parked, getting out of the car and walking toward her.

  “Erin,” he says. “So nice to see you again.” He moves as though to kiss her on the cheek, but she flinches away, her hands going up defensively.

  “Don’t,” I hear her voice in my ear.

  He smiles at her, but it’s fake as he holds up his hands before slowly moving in to pat her down.

  My heart pounds in my chest as a swirl of nausea starts up in my gut watching him with his hands on her. He’s slow and deliberate too, as though he’s enjoying touching her like this when he knows she must hate it. Luckily, he doesn’t find the wire we hid in her cast, or the tiny ear piece that’s hiding behind her hair, so she’s safe. For now.

  “How badly are you hurt?” he says when he’s done, his eyes taking in the fading bruises on her face before going to her cast arm.

  “I’ll live,” she says. “No thanks to you.”

  “Erin,” he says, stepping closer. “If I’d have known you were going to drive the car, I never would have…”

  Bingo. I can’t help but think as this fucker all but admits to tampering with my brake lines.

  “Listen Anthony,” she says. “I need this to stop, alright? I’m tired of trying to live my life in secret, of hiding who I am and what I know from the people I care about.”

  “You mean your detective,” he says with a sneer.

  My blood boils at his comment, my hand sliding onto my gun as I pull it from my holster and take a step toward them.

  “I mean from everyone,” Erin shouts, throwing her hands up. “Do you even realize that I have to testify against my father next month,” she continues. “That I’ll be questioned about everything. Everything,” she adds pointedly.

  “What?” Anthony says, taking another step closer to her.

  Erin laughs a little. “Oh my god, he didn’t tell you?” she says, shaking her head. “Well I am,” she continues. “And guess what Anthony, I’m not about to fucking perjure myself when I do.”

  “Erin,” he says, reaching for her.

  I take a couple more steps toward them, maintaining my cover but knowing that the second he touches her, I’m there.

  “Please, don’t do this,” he continues, his voice softening a little. “For me?”

  “For you?” she asks incredulously. “Why the fuck would I care about you?”

  I swallow nervously, amazed at the balls she’s currently displaying as she all but goads her ex-boyfriend, a known mobster who she knows is more than capable of murder.

  “Come on, babe,” he says, his voice turning sleazy. “It wasn’t all bad between us, now, was it?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” Erin shouts, leaning forward. “That was the worst period of my life, ever,” she says. “You think I didn’t know about the other women, Anthony, the whores?”

  “Erin, they meant nothing.”

  “The murders?” she continues, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Even though I’m still thirty feet away, I see the dark cloud that passes over Anthony’s face as he stares back at Erin. It’s a look of pure evil that has me inching even closer, ignoring the voices in my ear that are asking me what the fuck I’m doing.

  “You listen here,” he says in a voice of steel as he grabs her roughly by the arm and pulls her toward him. “You say one fucking word…”

  “How about I say, you’re under arrest, you fucker,” I shout, stepping out onto the path, gun pointing directly at Anthony.

  Erin shrinks back, her body desperately trying to get away from him. But Anthony’s grip tightens, holding her in place as he slides his other hand behind his back.

  “Don’t fucking move!” I shout, stepping closer as I hear Finn’s warning, the words lost as I desperately try to handle this situation. “Erin, come here,” I say, glancing quickly at her.

  Erin yanks her arm, pulling it from Anthony’s fingers as she moves away from him. I hold out a hand to her, my gun still trained on him. Before she reaches me though, Anthony’s other hand slides out from behind his back, the gun that’s now in his hand swinging over me and pointing directly at Erin.

  “And to think you said to come alone,” he says, sneering. “Guess you are still that lying bitch you’ve always been.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Erin

  I feel the cold barrel of the gun pressed against the back of my neck followed by Anthony’s hot breath hissing in my ear. My entire body shakes with fear and I swallow down the scream that looms on the tip of my tongue.

  “I will fucking kill her,” he says, but he’s not speaking to me. I’m just the pawn in all of this, and I knew going into it, that I could ultimately end up here.

  And he could kill me.

  I have no idea what is going through his mind right or how angry he is at me for what I’ve done, what I’ve said. But I do know his rage for Ryan lies far deeper than it has ever has for me.

  Together though, we can ruin him.

  When I look up into Ryan’s eyes, any sense of calm has been lost. His eyes are wide and trained on Anthony, and I suddenly know how a face can change when a heart aches with fear.

  Ryan is no longer the well-trained detective, the stoic and composed man he was before this went down.

  He’s now my boyfriend, and I worry that neither of us will leave here alive. His hand shakes as he continues to point the gun at Anthony. I watch his chest rise and fall with each heaving breath he takes. His composure is nearly gone.

  The seconds tick by, the silence between us growing and I know that something needs to be done, something needs to break through all of this.

  I open my mouth to speak, the slow movement of my mouth, but I press my lips together as I feel the vomit rise up in my throat.

  The fear in our little triangle of air is palpable, the heavy breathing from both Ryan and Anthony thumps loudly in my ears over my own pulsing heartbeat.

  When I open my mouth a second time, my lips trembling, I for
ce out Ryan’s name, soft and simple, but it draws him back in.

  “Put the gun down, Anthony,” Ryan says, the authority back in his voice, as composure washes over him.

  Anthony laughs, thick and smarmy, spitting out a simple, “Fuck you,” before pressing his body a little closer to mine.

  An involuntary whimper leaves my lips as I feel him force the gun even farther into the base of neck. The barrel is pushed painfully against the vertebrae in my neck and it weakens my knees, making my whole body shudder.

  And again my only thought is, he’s going to kill me.

  My trust in Ryan balloons, because right now he’s the only person who can save me.

  I know not to call Ryan’s name again. The last thing he needs is a distraction, something to break his confidence, taking him away from his negotiations with Anthony. Although I’m not sure there’s any way to negotiate out of the situation.

  “You don’t want to kill her,” Ryan says calmly, yet his gun is still pointed directly at Anthony, but the tremor I saw in his hand earlier is now gone.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Anthony shoots back. “You don’t want me to kill her. This has nothing to do with me.”

  “It has everything to do with you,” Ryan retorts taking a small step closer. He’s now within a few feet of me; one step forward and I’d be able to reach out and touch him.

  He’s so close, yet so far away.

  Ryan continues, placating Anthony a little more, “Right now we’ve got nothing on you, Anthony, nothing that would keep you in, but if you kill her, there’s no plea deal, no chance of getting out.”

  The space between us is silent as Anthony contemplates what Ryan has just said, tries to process if his words hold any weight. They’re a lie, we both know it, but I can’t tell if Anthony does too. His hand trembles on the gun making it shake against my skin and helping me thoroughly believe he’s scared.

  But this is when things can go bad, fear making him uneasy, nervous, and bound to make a mistake.

  Anthony’s shoe scrapes noisily on the loose gravel ground and I flinch at the sound. My entire body recoiling away from him out of instinct, but his hand clasps my upper arm, yanking back toward him.

  This needs to end soon, because I’m not sure I can take it much longer. My legs are growing weak, my knees shaking uncontrollably as I try to steady myself.

  “You’re lying,” Anthony shouts after what feels like hours, reminding me of Ryan’s words and what he said to try to end this. “Do you think I’m stupid?” he asks condescendingly. “I know this place is crawling with cops. You two set me up. You and this lying bitch.”

  Anthony’s last word is spoken harsh and angrily, and I feel the gun withdraw from my neck and strike me in the side of the head.

  The pain is blinding, crushing and I nearly collapse to my knees, but Anthony’s grip on my arm keeps me standing. A trickle of blood runs down from my temple, leaving a streak of red that I can see out of the corner of my eye.

  Ryan lunges forward and at that second Anthony points his gun at Ryan and fires, the word “no” falling from my mouth in a strangled scream as I clench my eyes shut.

  The earth stands still at that moment, not a single breath leaves my mouth, but I feel the tears sting my cheeks, warm and salty as they run into my mouth.

  And when I suck in that long needed breath and open my eyes, Ryan is still standing.

  The bullet wasn’t intended to strike him; it was a warning, a warning to everyone that Anthony isn’t fucking around. The next time he fires his gun he won’t miss.

  As soon as it was fired, the blast loud and booming in the open air, Ryan’s team appeared, sliding quietly out of their positions, guns drawn and ready.

  But with a single word, they retreated, and once again it’s just the three of us.

  “Stop your fucking crying,” Anthony admonishes me as I sob quietly into the open air. His grip on my arm tightening, his fingers digging into my skin despite the winter coat I’m wearing. “You brought this on yourself.”

  “Please, Anthony,” I beg, my words hoarse and shaky. “Let me go and I promise I won’t talk to them. Without me they have nothing, I swear to you.” My words are a plea for mercy, for something, for anything that will break his concentration.

  “You expect me to believe you?” he bites out, and then lets out a low, eerie laugh making my skin crawl with goose bumps.

  I feel his lips near my neck, his warm breath slow and menacing in my ear, and even though I can’t see them, I know his eyes are still on Ryan. “Turn around, Erin,” he murmurs and I shake my head nearly imperceptibly.

  My head is still throbbing from the earlier hit, pulsing and painful, and I know my noncompliance will bring another, but I can’t bring myself to turn around.

  I can’t look at him, my stomach churning at the thought.

  “I won’t ask you again,” Anthony says, his voice strangely calm.

  Without looking at me Ryan says, “Do what he asks, Erin.” And again, my head moves back and forth, but I feel my body betray me and I turn.

  My chest is now flush with Anthony’s as it heaves in and out, and his free arm that was once holding mine, slips around my waist, pulling me even closer.

  “Put your elbows on my shoulders and wrap your hands around the back of my head,” Anthony orders, and it’s then that I know what he’s doing.

  If my body is wrapped around his, no one can shoot. Shooting Anthony means killing me too.

  “I’m going to leave with her,” Anthony says, acting like we aren’t in the middle of a fucking standoff. “And if you follow me, I’ll have you killed. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. It could even be ten years from now when you think you’re safe and you think this is over…” he trails off, his words interrupted by Ryan.

  “You’re not going anywhere, and you’re definitely not taking Erin with you. This is going to end today, and I’m certain it’s not going to end well for you.”

  Laughing loudly at Ryan’s words, Anthony starts backing up, taking me with him despite my feet attempting to stay firmly rooted.

  “Walk, Erin!” Anthony yells, his words scaring me, his demeanor well beyond crazy and unhinged at this point.

  But as we move so does Ryan. For every step we take, Ryan takes two more, the distance between us never growing, and I can feel the frustration boiling inside of Anthony.

  “I will fucking shoot you!” Anthony screams at Ryan, the trigger to his gun nearly level with my ear, and that’s when it happens.

  This time when the gun fires the blast shatters the air around all of us, and I don’t know what’s louder, the gun or the scream that falls from my lips.

  One single bullet ripping through flesh as the blood splatters my skin and the piercing pain shoots though me.

  I collapse on the ground, Anthony’s body crushing me with its weight as I struggle to get him off me. I’m screaming for Ryan, repeating his name over and over.

  I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m covered in blood and that’s when everything goes black.

  Sirens ring out and screams can be heard, along with feet pounding the pavement, and I can hear Ryan’s voice shouting, “Get the fuck over here! She’s been shot.”

  My eyes open slowly as the haze begins to disappear, revealing Ryan’s face as he’s kneeling down over me, fear blanketing everything.

  My face feels wet and when I lift my hand to wipe at it, my cast is covered in blood; a small hole sits in the portion that wraps around my thumb.

  “Look at me, Erin,” Ryan says firmly, his hands on either side of my cheeks. “Are you okay?” His shaky hands begin wiping at my face which I now realize is covered in blood.

  Everything is covered in blood.

  I turn away from him and vomit spectacularly on the pavement next to me just as a paramedic rushes up. Ryan removes my coat and tosses it to the side as the paramedic reaches for my casted arm, grabbing it; he b
egins to cut my cast off, the blade of the knife barely making a dent in it.

  “We have to get this cast off,” the paramedic calls behind him to his partner who is now approaching with a gurney. Lifting me off the ground, Ryan sets me on the gurney and as I’m wheeled back to the ambulance I notice my coat lying on the ground.

  “My coat,” I call out to Ryan, my body shuddering as the cold air bites at my skin, but Ryan just shakes his head. And that’s when I watch a team of people converge on my coat, gloved hands placing it into a large plastic bag.

  I hear the small rotary saw’s buzzing before I see it, the vibration shaking my hand as the paramedic cuts off my cast. My arm is extended over a silver bowl and the small clink is barely heard when the bullet fragment drops into it. And again a pair of gloved hands swoop in, taking the bowl and dropping the metal shard into an envelope.

  The noise of the bullet fragment jars my memory and I look right at Ryan, saying, “You killed him. You shot him.”

  In that moment my body is strangely reactive to my words, a mix of sadness and elation washing over me as I begin to cry again. I’ve wished for this moment more times than I can remember, but now that it’s happened I’m overcome with a weird sense of guilt.

  “I didn’t,” Ryan insists, shaking his head, my face in his hands again, and I’m not sure if he thinks I’m blaming him, that I’m angry with him. But relief crashes into me, making me grateful that Ryan played no part in Anthony’s death.

  Even in this moment of gratitude, I don’t know what to think.

  I hear my name being called, as the paramedic wraps my now uncasted hand in gauze, covering the small hole that was ripped into my skin. “She’s going to need stitches,” the paramedic tells Ryan, but his words are lost on me as I watch Finn walk over.

  “Erin,” he says, and his face doesn’t look like his. His eyes are wide, his cheeks void of any color, like he’s seen more than he ever should.

  “Was it you?” I ask, again that shock and horror feeling returning, the vomit rising in my throat, my stomach tightening into a knot.