by Finn, Emilia
“I know all your secrets. Gun up, please.”
“You know Ace? Does he send you into dangerous situations, too? It’s too fucking dangerous for you, Soph! What the fuck is he thinking?”
“I am Ace, dummy. Gun up, please.”
The music in the club remains loud, but Trenton’s roar still penetrates my mind just half a beat before he grabs the back of Sophia’s head and yanks it down so her face slams against his shoulder. Blood bursts over his white shirt, and a pain-filled squeak comes from between her lips just a second before he tosses her against the wall and she crumbles to the ground. “Get the fuck off me, you filthy whore!”
10
Answers
Sophia
“Sophia!” Jay’s roar echoes inside my brain and almost feels like splinters being pushed through the very fabric of my skull. Stars float in my grayed vision as I lift my head and watch Jay pounce on Trenton Neal, his heavy-set body crushing Neal’s against the wall a mere two feet from mine and his hands slamming over Neal’s face so his blood and mine mingle on the white shirt.
“Jay.” I try to get to my knees, only to sway and fall back to all fours. “Jay, stop a sec.” His fists fly with lightning speed, but Trenton covers up and parries every third or fourth strike. Bones crunch under Jay’s fists, and his gun lies forgotten just beside my feet. “Jay?” Trying again, I climb to my knees and breathe through the suffocating nausea. It’s like there are hornets inside my brain, stinging, buzzing, stinging some more. The belt remains around Neal’s neck, and when Jay notices it, he pulls the end tight until Neal stops fighting completely.
His feet twitch, and his eyes almost pop from their sockets.
“You have ten seconds before I snap your neck,” Jay seethes. “Who is CAB?”
Trenton shakes his head, not in refusal, but to say he doesn’t know.
Lifting to my knees and holding my hand to my face, I hiss at the sting, but allow it to clear the fuzz from my brain. I shuffle forward and press a hand to Jay’s bulging forearm. “Just wait one sec, please.”
Wild, untamed, his black-eyed gaze swings around to me and makes me think of a starved bear in the wild. Nothing can penetrate his mind; nothing will stop the hunt. “Sophia?”
“I’m okay. Nothing is broken. Loosen the belt for a sec. Give me a moment to think.”
“He hurt you, Soph.” Blindly, he swings his hand down again and crushes Trenton’s jaw to the side. “He hurt you.”
“He’ll pay for it. Just give me a second to think.” When his hand remains clasped around the belt, I squeeze his arm. “Please. You can get yours in a sec. I need answers, but my brain hurts. Just give me a moment.”
I rub my fingers against my temple as Jay loosens the belt a tiny bit at a time. He pulls the pin from the holes and loosens it enough that Trenton’s bucking feet slow and oxygen finally travels down his throat and into his lungs.
“Thank you. Just give me… We have a minute before his soldiers come in. You can have him in forty seconds.”
“You’re Sophia?”
I think Jay’s in shock. Bullets in the back? No big deal. Bullet in the brain. No biggie. Two hours sleep a day? He can roll with it.
But his innocent dancer not being as innocent as he thought?
Impossible.
“Yes. I’m Sophia. I’m Ace. I’m your friend. We’ve been friends for two years already.” Leaning across when I catch sight of my blade on the floor, I pick it up, then push Jay back with gentle hands to make room so I can sit on Trenton’s broad chest and use my weight to hold him down.
“I’ll kill you.” Blood covers his swollen face, his eyes, his shirt and chest. His words are garbled, but his intent remains lethal. “Nobody fucks with me and gets away with it. I’m gonna fuck you, then I’ll peel the skin from your cunt and feed it back to you while you cry.”
Flipping my knife open, I smile through the fog crushing my brain and bring the blade to his throat. “You talk a big game for a little guy. You’re the one on his back, with a busted face, a knife to his throat, and a tiny dancer on his chest holding him down. No…” I sit taller, as though to ponder our situation. “You won’t kill me, but I’ll kill you. You sell little girls. You’re part of the problem, so whether you rat out the guy further up the ladder or not, you still die.”
Jay hovers close beside me, his rage like a tangible beast that takes up space in the small room. Colored lights still flicker and move, because to the outside world, I’m still a dancer showing this asshole a good time. But Jay… he’s wild, and he’s losing patience fast.
“Think real hard, Neal. CAB. CAB. CAB. That’s my next step. Tell me who CAB is.”
“I don’t know, bitch. And even if I did…” His bloody spit hits my chest.
“Does it make you feel bad to call me names?” I ignore the disgusting sensation of his saliva sliding along my chest and into my bejeweled bra. “I’ve already won this round. I’ve already dismantled one more layer of this empire. Now you get to choose whether you want to be redeemed. Tell the truth, think hard and give me answers; maybe Heaven will let you in. But if you stay quiet, you might be met with something else in the afterlife.”
“You think I give a fuck? You think I believe for one second that my life ends today? My men are waiting for my signal. When I give it, they’ll take this room and fuck you with your own pocket blade.”
“So give your signal,” I dare. “Call them in. Show me your army. I bet they don’t come.”
He knows I’m right, because no one can hear shit in this club. The music is too loud. The dancers too captivating.
“That’s what I thought. I’m the only person on this planet who might make this easier for you. What does CAB look like?”
“I don’t know. I always deliver at night. He wears a ski mask every time.”
“Where do you meet him?”
“Wherever the fuck he tells me to meet him!” His voice rises octaves when I dig my blade in. “It’s a different place every time!” he squeals. “Different place! Sometimes it’s in this club.”
“He’s been in this club?” Jay demands. “Your top dog has been inside this club?”
“Yes. He came here last month to run inventory and make sure I was maintaining… quality.”
“Where else have you met?” I slap his face and bring his eyes away from a prowling Jay. There’s gonna be hell to pay when we get out of here. “Where? Give me locations.”
“We meet outside town, sometimes. At truck stops. I met him a few states over the month before Christmas. It depends on his job and whatever mood he’s in.”
“What’s his job?”
“Military. Dunno. Some dude who has an actual army to command. He doesn’t share his personal details with me like we’re pals.”
Military. High-ranking. Different drop points.
“You don’t know what he looks like? How old is he?”
“I dunno. I honestly don’t know. He could be thirty; he could be fifty. His voice is deep and his body solid. That’s all I notice.”
“Okay.” Jay stops prowling and stops by my shoulder. “You done, Soph?”
“Yeah, I–” I yelp when he picks me up and places me away from Trenton’s body. Dropping down in my spot, he spins his knife in his hand until he brings it down and stabs the blade straight through Neal’s jugular so the tip hits the floor on the underside. “Jay! Fuck.”
“You said I’d get my turn.” He twists the blade and tears Neal’s flesh as his body convulses on the floor. His feet, still bound by his pants, slam against the floor and make low thuds, and his hands grip Jay’s shirt like he thinks his murderer will be his savior. “He doesn’t get to sell anyone else, Soph. He’s done.” Blood bubbles up around the blade. Trenton’s body jolts beneath Jay’s; his head slams back against the floor once, then his eyes become unseeing, his hands unclenching.
“You just killed him.” Now I might be in shock. “You fucking killed him.”
“Boss?”
“Here.” Reading my mind, Jay tugs his coat off and throws it over my shoulders. With fast hands and a bloody knife clasped in his left, he feeds the zipper together and yanks it up until I’m covered from mid-thigh to chin. “Stay with me, Sophia. Do not get ahead of me.”
“You weren’t supposed to come here.” I tug him back when he moves away from Trenton’s dead body and approaches the door.
“Boss?”
“Jay!” I hiss. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“I could say the same about you, Ace. Stay behind me. We’ll talk soon. You step out one single time, and I’ll beat your ass till you can’t sit for a week.”
“Wait.” I pull him back when the knocking on the door becomes more demanding. “Up there. The ducts pass straight over this room. I already scanned the layout before coming here.”
“Coulda shared that knowledge before we got in here, Sophia. Fuck.” He tugs me forward. “Vents are dangerous. And ridiculously cliché. We won’t get up before the door gives in. Left or right?”
“Huh?”
“Left or right? Out this door, left or right?”
“Left!” My heart races when I realize instead of running away, we’re running straight through our enemy. “Go out to the alley out back. Circle around to the right, a thousand yards, because the old city train lines are under construction for maintenance. Run straight into the tunnels.”
“Okay.” He clutches my hand and switches his blade for his gun. “Stay back. Don’t be dumb.”
“Give me your spare piece.”
“My…” He stops and turns. “Huh?”
I pull the back of his shirt up and take the nine-millimeter Glock from the waistband of his jeans. I trust Jay that it has a full magazine. I trust that it’s a good gun. And I trust my skills. “Run straight through, don’t stop. I won’t let you go, but don’t stop and turn around to check on me.”
“You get hurt, and you’ll have to answer to me.” He pulls me around and slams his lips against mine until we both taste blood. “Don’t fuck this up.”
Kiss the girl before you run into danger. Now who’s being cliché?
“Boss?” The door rattles on the hinges when the guys outside turn from annoyance to straight up rage. They know something is wrong, and they’re ready to siege the room.
“Three.” Jay’s hand clutches mine and crushes my bones together. Adrenaline runs through his veins until he doesn’t know his strength anymore. “Two. Out the door. To the left. Use as many bullets as you need. I’m not a cop anymore; your life matters to me. Not theirs.”
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” My heart races as I work through my panic. I’m the data girl, the orchestrator, the organizer. I come out to the field sometimes, but rarely find myself in a situation where I’m found out. “Don’t get hurt, Jay. Don’t die.”
“Boss!” One shot pierces the door and zings to the floor a foot from my heels, then a second bullet is shot off until the door handle crumbles.
“One!”
The door flings open in the same breath that Jay’s one reaches my ears. My shoulder protests when he yanks me forward, only for my ankle to roll in my heels and make me realize I should have gotten rid of them back when he was saying three. I run straight out of them as bullets are fired off and the men at the door are toppled like bowling pins. Jay’s gun is loud, so the hornets in my brain turn to hornets in my eardrums, and the club patrons’ screams join in and turn my hearing echoey.
Men rush toward us, but Jay slingshots me ahead of him so his back shields me as we run. He protects me with his body, but his hand refuses to release mine as we sprint the twenty-foot hall and I crash against the emergency exit door. Trenton’s soldiers shoot off dozens of rounds, but it’s all lost in the chaos as the clubgoers sprint in every direction and spill out of the exits.
Fire burns my arm as I pull Jay into the night and straight toward the underground subway. The trains have been replaced with an above-ground system, which leaves us the perfect way to get home without being seen.
The snow doesn’t fall anymore, but the air is still freezing, burning the tip of my nose. My feet ache as I run, as small rocks dig into my soles and wet grass freezes my digits. But I don’t stop running and counting the steps between the club and the tunnels.
A thousand yards.
A thousand strides.
No longer facing behind him and shooting off rounds, Jay speeds up and overtakes me. But his hand refuses to release mine. His legs are longer than mine, his muscles bigger, but his lungs are injured, and his breath struggles to feed his broad body.
With aching feet and chattering teeth, I try to speed up, to catch up and minimize my stumbling, then as soon as we hit the entrance to the tunnel, I pull him to a stop and slam him against the concrete wall.
His breath wheezes through his lungs, his chest rising and falling with too much effort. “Breathe through it, Jay. Slow it down.”
“Can’t.” His wild eyes wheel around in panic. He looks the way Trenton did when the belt was cinched tight. Leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees, he struggles to drag in breath. “Can’t breathe.”
I poke my head out of the tunnel and glance toward the club. Although Trenton’s men are visible, none of them are coming this way. “Okay. We’re okay.” Coming back to Jay, I take his shoulders and push him back. “Stand tall, breathe, open your chest. You need to get it under control.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can! Come on.” I tug his shoulder and pull him further into the darkness of the tunnel. I can’t see more than three feet ahead of me, but I’ve walked these enough now to know where I’m going. I shiver beneath his coat, dragging him forward by his arm. “Walk it off, babe. Straighten your spine. Big breath in. Big breath out.” My arm screams with a fiery pain, but I don’t focus on it. I’ve hurt before, and I got through it when I had time to get through it. Right now is not that time. “What do we know? What did we get from Trenton?”
“Trenton?” He blows out his breath, then sucks it in again and makes me worry about the rattling I hear from inside his chest. “Um… Trenton. CAB. Military. Could be thirty, could be fifty.”
“Oh! His phone.” I dig my hands into his coat pockets, finding gummy worms in the right and the cell in the left. Pulling out the phone, I hit the home button once, twice, three times, but the screen doesn’t power up. “Shit, it might’ve gotten broken while we crashed through the door. It’s okay.” I’m essentially talking to myself, thinking, planning. “Let’s get back home. I need my laptop, then I’ll be able to get this phone open.”
“You’re Ace?” His breath continues to whistle. “You’re Ace?” He comes to a dead stop and spins me around as a cry tears up my throat. I think my arm is worse than I thought, and my feet are either wet from puddles on the concrete… or bleeding. “You’re Ace!”
“Yes, now shush. Keep walking, before Trenton’s men come looking in here. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
“No, we fucking won’t. We’ll talk about it now. You lied to me, Sophia!”
“You lied to me, John D. Hamilton! You don’t sell fridges.”
“I was protecting the pretty ballerina,” he snaps. “I was doing the right thing by keeping you away from a world you have no business being a part of. You were straight up fucking lying to me!”
“I was protecting you. You didn’t need to know who I was.”
“You used me!”
“We used each other!” I shoot back. “I help you with your brother; you
help me with my thing. Don’t pretend like this isn’t a good partnership. Don’t act like you regret it now that the truth is out.”
“You’re Ace! Which means we’ve been talking for two fucking years!” His large hand squeezes my upper arm, crushing skin against bone. “You could have told me two years ago who you were. I would’ve still helped you.”
“No, you would’ve hit on the pretty ballerina, then you would have shuffled me aside with a spiel about keeping the womenfolk safe. I did what I had to do, and I will continue to do what I have to do until this is finished.”
“Sophia!”
“You need me more than I need you,” I seethe. “I’m the brains. You’re the muscle. I can find muscle every time I step outside my apartment door, but you will never find someone with my skills, so don’t start your bullshit now. Move. Walk! I’m freezing and need to get inside to check my feet.”
“Your feet?” From angry to worried, his eyes shoot to the floor, though we both know he can’t see them. “You hurt?”
It’s funny how I still consider my feet my greatest asset. They used to be, back when I was considering a career as a dancer, but now they’re just feet. My brain is what I need most now; my brain is how we work our way to the top and end this empire. And yet, fear of injured feet still plagues me until I feel sick. “I’m fine, but I’m only wearing underwear under this coat, and another man’s blood on my skin. I want to go home and shower.”
* * *
It takes us only twenty minutes to walk home. By the time we enter the Benson building staircase and move up, Jay’s breathing seems normal, and my feet no longer hurt… they’re frozen.
One flight, then two. Jay stomps as we pass three, and zooms past four like he’s worried I’ll dump him and run. We enter my apartment and slam the door shut, and though he moves into the living room and rubs his arms to warm up, I only lean against my door and stare at the ceiling.