The Devil's Elixir

by Raymond Khoury

  Scary how easily that just came out.

  Something else I knew about her: She didn’t take kindly to anyone doubting her word, least of all someone she’d been as close to as yours truly, and even less on something this important.

  “I wasn’t seeing anyone else on the side. You were it. I thought that was kind of obvious.”

  It had been.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I backpedaled.

  “It was. But that’s okay. You’re pissed off. And you have every right to be.”

  A maelstrom of conflicting emotions was coursing through me. Selfish, I know, given what she’d just been through, but it’s not every day you get a call informing you you’ve got a four-year-old son.

  “Well, yeah, I am,” I replied. “I mean, Jesus, Meesh. How could you not tell me about this?”

  “I—I’m sorry, Sean.” Her voice went softer with contrition. “I really am. I wanted to. And this isn’t how I ever imagined telling you about it, obviously, but . . . it wasn’t easy. Keeping it from you. All this time. The amount of times I picked up the phone to call you and tell you . . . but every time, I just—something kept me back.” She paused, then said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you, not now, not like this. I’m just not—I’m not thinking straight.”

  My mind was still tripping over itself, struggling to get to grips with the notion—but I had to vault that for now and change tack. The reasons and blame games could wait. Michelle had just gone through hell, and she needed my help. My more immediate concern had to be making sure they—making sure she and her son, our son—were out of harm’s way.

  “All right, don’t worry, we can talk about it later.” I took in a breath, fast-reviewing the sketchy information I had, then asked, “Where are you now?”

  “I’m parked outside a mall. Plenty of people around. I’m safe for the time being. I think.”

  “Were you followed?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I tried to form a mental picture of it all, but there were still too many unknowns. “You think this could have anything to do with your work? You back on the job?” I’d heard that she’d left the DEA, not long after I’d left Mexico City, but that information was ancient.

  “I’m out, Sean. Those days are long gone. I teach at a high school now. Nothing dark or dangerous there. I’m a basketball coach, for God’s sake.”

  “So you don’t know who or why?”

  “Not a clue. All I know is, they weren’t there to kill me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “One of the shooters, in the house. He had a clear shot. But he didn’t take it. If they’d wanted me dead, I’d be dead, for sure.”

  “So they were there to grab you?”

  “I guess. And it’s got me real scared, Sean. I mean, dammit, what about Alex? What would have happened to him?”

  I didn’t have an answer to that, but I needed to move her away from that train of thought. “We need to get you somewhere safe. You still have friends at the agency?”

  “Not really. Besides, I’m not sure I want to go there. Not right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “This was a professional tag team,” she said. “They were there for a reason. And that’s got me racking my brain and second-guessing everything, ’cause I can’t for the life of me think of what the hell anyone could want from me. I mean, ever since I left the agency, my life couldn’t be any more ordinary. Which can only mean that it has something to do with my past life. And if it does, then I’m not sure who I can trust at the agency. I worked undercover. Not many people knew what I did. Which means that if someone’s after me because of my days on the job, then they’ve got a feed from the inside. That’s partly why I called you.”

  The other part was obvious. And anyway, I was glad she did.

  “All right. What about San Diego PD?”

  “I can’t call them up. Not like this. If they found Tom dead in our front hall, how’s it going to look? Spouses and girlfriends make great suspects, right? Hell, the gun I took off one of them’s probably the one they shot him with, and now it’s got my prints all over it.”

  “You not calling it in makes it look worse.”

  “I know. But if I do a walk-in, it’s gonna get messy. You know how these things play out. They’re gonna assume the worst and they’re gonna want to hold me while they figure things out. And I don’t want to do that and have Alex palmed off to some CPS deadbeat,” referring to the state’s Child Protection Services agencies. “He’s four, Sean.”

  “Do you have family nearby?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be away from him, not for a second,” she fired back forcefully. “Not while those mamabichos are out there.”

  “If they’re after you, he might be safer away from you.”

  “No way. I’m not letting him out of my fucking sight,” she shot back.

  “Okay,” I said as something warm stirred up inside me, a flash of memory of her indomitable force of will, sparked by the colorful expressions she liked to throw around. I checked my watch. It was a little after half past twelve. “I need you to lay low for a few hours, until I get there.”

  “Sean, I didn’t—”

  “I’m coming, Meesh,” I cut in. I was already climbing into the car and firing it up. “I’ll grab the first flight out. Should be with you in seven, eight hours tops.”

  She went quiet for a moment, then said, “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “No, I . . . Thanks. I guess deep down I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “Just sit tight, okay?” I was already out of my parking spot and weaving past slower cars. “Where can you stay till then?”

  “I’ll find a hotel, near the airport. I’ll wait for you there.”

  “Sounds good. You got cash?”

  “There’s an ATM here.”

  “Use it and put your cards away.” I thought about what she’d said. A professional tag team. “Pull your phone’s battery, too. And ditch the car. Take a cab or a bus.”

  “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll call you from the hotel to let you know where I am.”

  “All right, I’ll probably be on the plane by then, so leave me a voicemail,” I said, flying past a slow-moving car while trying to make sure I had all the bases covered. “Hang in there, Meesh. We’ll sort this out.”

  “Sure,” she replied, sounding far from convinced.

  I hesitated, then said, “Hey, Meesh.”

  “What?”

  “You should have told me.”

  I had to say it.

  It’s what I felt, and, dammit, she should have.

  The line went silent for a long second, then she said, “Yeah,” her tone pained and remorseful. “Well . . . better late than never, huh?”

  My heart felt like it was in a vise. “Is he okay? Alex?”

  “He’s great. You’ll see.”

  I felt a little tear inside. “Hit that ATM and pull your battery,” I reminded her. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

  I clicked off and hit the speed dial for Nick Aparo, my partner at the Bureau. I needed to let him know what was going on and get him to help me figure out how I was going to get to San Diego as fast as possible.

  Staring ahead as the call connected, I felt drained, reeling from the bombshell Michelle had lobbed at me. Drained, and torn by conflicting emotions—I’d been desperate to have a kid, so desperate that it had almost split me and Tess up, but at the same time, I knew this news would hit Tess hard. Real hard.

  4

  I had just enough time for a quick swoop on the house I shared with Tess and Kim, where I threw a few things into a backpack and holstered up before hopping on the I-95 and riding it all the way down to Newark.

  My fastest option, as per my call to my partner, was an early afternoon United flight that connected via Denver. I’d lose an hour on the ground there, but there was no way around that. Not unless I was prepared to try to bull
shit my way into getting a Bureau jet to fly me out there and, assuming that worked, end up facing an OPR investigation that would most likely get me fired. I’d been down that route before. I’d narrowly avoided a run-in with the open-minded sweethearts from the Bureau’s Office of Professional Responsibility a few years ago, after I’d followed Tess onto a flight to Istanbul without clearing it with my boss first. Problem was, I couldn’t be open about why I needed a jet this time, not without spilling the beans on what was going on with Michelle. Aparo and I had argued about the merits of gaining an hour versus the extra risks Michelle could face if her whereabouts were more widely known, and I had grudgingly agreed with him that an hour’s delay in getting to her was worth risking if it meant she got to stay dark till I got there.

  Traffic was sparse, and as I drove on, my mind was skittering all over the place. Michelle’s revelation was no less than a life-changer. There would be a whole host of ripples I’d need to deal with. Of those, none would be more delicate to navigate than the one that had hogged my thoughts the whole way down—the same one, in fact, that was now rousing my BlackBerry as I took the off-ramp toward the terminal.

  For a moment, I debated whether or not to pick up, but I knew I couldn’t duck the call.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey, handsome,” Tess’s voice boomed. “How’s the bachelor weekend going? The Shermans haven’t had to call the cops out, have they?”

  Her voice was like a balm to my battered senses. “They threatened to, but we’re cool.”

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “I invited them over and offered them one of our bongs. The thing is, now I can’t get rid of them. Those kids can party.”

  I heard her chuckle as she probably pictured the seventy-something-year-old couple next door in full frat-house mode—not an attractive sight, trust me—and I grabbed the moment.

  “Hey, I can’t talk right now. I’m about to jump on a plane.”

  “Oh, baby,” she teased, “you can’t wait till next weekend, huh?”

  I managed a small chortle. “Not exactly.”

  Tess dropped the playful tone. “Yeah, I kind of figured. What’s going on? Where are you flying?”

  “San Diego.” I hesitated, then added, “Something’s come up. I need to be there.”

  “Anything I should be worried about?”

  “No.” I was hating the lie, even though it was more of a lie of omission—not that anyone ever bought that line, least of all me right now. But I couldn’t tell her, not now, not over a car speakerphone.

  “But it’s enough to have you jumping on a plane at the drop of a hat?”

  I hesitated again, feeling too uncomfortable with the lie. I just had to cut the call short. “It’s nothing serious. Look, I’m at the airport, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you from there, okay?”

  She went silent for a moment, then said, “Sure. Okay. Just—Sean?”

  She didn’t have to say it. The worry was coming through loud and clear. She always said it, even after all the time we’d spent together and all the close shaves we’d been through.

  “I know,” I told her.

  “Call me.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up, feeling awful about having her worry unnecessarily, and feeling a lot worse about not telling her the truth.

  The fact was, I didn’t know how I was going to break the news to her. No matter how I prefaced it or framed it or sugarcoated it, it was going to hurt.

  We’d tried, and failed, to have a baby for a couple of years. Who really knows why that happens. The doctors will run all kinds of tests and explain why they think it’s happening, but ultimately, I think it was just our bad luck. As far as the specialists were concerned, the likely cause lay with Tess’s age and her being on the pill for so many years, but whatever it was, and despite trying the very best IVF treatments on offer, it just wouldn’t happen for us. The grueling process had turned into a drawn-out ordeal, with each failed attempt causing more emotional trauma. Tess, in particular, had grown more and more depressed with feelings of inadequacy, something that seemed insane to me—she was the most capable and giving woman I’d ever met. But she knew how much I had wanted to be a dad myself, and not just a stepdad to Kim, and although I’d done my best to play down the disappointment I felt deep down and no matter what I said, I guess I just hadn’t been able to hide it convincingly enough. She started finding it harder and harder to be around me and ended up flying off to Jordan, using the excuse that she needed to do some research for a Templar novel she was prepping. It was only recently, and by fluke—a near-death one, at that, after Tess had been kidnapped by some whackjob Iranian operative while she was in Petra—that we’d gotten back together again.

  And now this.

  It was definitely going to hurt.

  It was also the kind of wedge that could drive a couple apart, and that was a prospect I was desperate to avoid. I mean, Tess was my life. But I knew that the sudden reemergence of an ex-girlfriend with my young child in tow would be, at best, a source of recurrent friction and, at worst, a complication that could wreck us. It wouldn’t help that Michelle Martinez was smart, funny, seriously hot, and—the deal breaker—someone I’d never mentioned to Tess. I’d blanked out that whole episode of my life. And no matter how attractive Tess was herself—which she was, in spades, the word luminous springing to mind whenever I try to describe her—and despite the fact that I was nuts about her and that she knew it, I had a strong feeling she’d inevitably feel threatened by my blast from the past. Anyone would. I get that. Hell, I would, too, no question. And, again, I’d probably end up having a hard time convincing her that she had nothing to worry about. Which she didn’t. Michelle had been a serious flame for me, but Tess, without a doubt, was the full bonfire.

  Definitely not a conversation I was looking forward to, though it was already playing itself out in my mind. And as I drove into the parking lot worrying about Tess, far darker thoughts intruded and took center stage again, thoughts of Michelle and a little boy I’d never met and the dangers lurking around them.

  I was starting to have a sinking feeling that maybe I should have grabbed a jet.

  5

  SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

  As the door swung open, my heart froze.

  Not in a bad way. It froze in an oh-my-god, paralyzed-from-sensory-overload kind of way. The good kind of sensory overload.

  She still had it. The smooth, honey-hued skin. The delicate dusting of freckles across her thin nose and sculpted cheeks. The dazzling blue eyes, windows into the cauldron of intelligence and mischief within. The body, curvy and taut, that could make Hugh Hefner’s head spin. It was all just as I remembered it.

  But that wasn’t what froze my heart.

  What did it was the four-year-old boy standing quietly by her side, holding onto her hand tightly and staring up at me.

  The sight of him made me forget to breathe.

  When Michelle had said that Alex was four, I hadn’t quite realized just how tiny a four-year-old was. How tiny, and how fragile. I just hadn’t been around many kids of that age. I didn’t have any nieces or nephews, Kim was around ten when I first hooked up with Tess, and, aside from Aparo, I wasn’t socially close to any of the people I worked with, some of whom had young kids. Hence the shock and awe rolling through me. And right there and then, standing in that bland and uninspiring hotel hallway, my heart soared as it never had before. I just knew that Alex was mine.

  “You gonna just stand there like a burro, or you gonna give me a hug?” Michelle asked.

  I dragged my eyes away from Alex and up to hers. Despite the apparent bravado, there was a smoldering fear in her eyes. It was subtle, barely there, and not everyone would have spotted it, but I did. I smiled, took her by the shoulders and pulled her closer, and gave her a kiss, a slightly awkward one that wasn’t quite on the lips but wasn’t on the cheeks either. Her arms slid up and she hugged me, tight, burying her head in the crook of my neck. />
  I’m not gonna lie to you, and don’t hate me for saying it, but right there and then, it felt great. Awkward, yes—but great.

  Then I felt the shivering and any notion of “great” vaporized.

  We stood there for a long moment, breathing each other in, a riptide of confusing emotions tugging at us, an unfinished past colliding with a brutal present, standing there in silence, stretching out the enjoyable part of our encounter, knowing the real reason for us being there, together again, would soon take over. Then we pulled back, holding each other’s eyes in a silent commemoration of what we’d once had until Michelle turned and, palms out, game show hostess–like, gestured at her son.

  “So . . . this is Alex,” she said, her face a mix of pride, unease, and pain.

  I glanced back down at the boy, who was staring at me uncertainly, and something twisted inside me. Alex’s eyes were wide with what I suddenly realized was more than just uncertainty. It was fear. I bent down to say hi to him, but as I did, Alex shrunk back and tucked himself in behind his mother’s thigh, hugging it tightly while burying his head into it.

  “No,” he pleaded in a small voice.

  Michelle swiveled her head around to him.

  “Alex, what’s wrong?”

  The kid didn’t say anything. He was still cowering behind her leg, not looking out.

  I looked a question at Michelle. She turned and crouched down and pulled Alex out from behind her, but he resisted and screamed, “No,” again.

  “Alex, stop it.” Her tone was even, but firm.

  “No, Mommy, no,” the boy whimpered.

  “Meesh, it’s okay,” I offered.

  Michelle ignored my plea. “Alex, stop,” she insisted, firmer now, but still calm. “This is my friend, Sean. Now would you please stop being silly and say hi to him. He’s here to help us.”

  The boy glanced up at me, then ducked back out of sight and tucked himself away even more. He was trembling visibly.

  “It’s all right,” I told her, raising my hands in a calming motion. “He’s been through a hell of a lot today.”