The Professor

by Rachel Renee

  Behind me, I hear a slight moan. I know it’s Santi, so I don’t turn to see what he’s doing. I pray that he’s still on the floor, not trying to get up and play heroics. When I get out of this, I will clear his name. That part almost chokes out the hatred I feel toward the two men in front of me. Charlie especially. I trusted the guy. Hell, I cared for him.

  Moretti is looking past me, so I know there must be some movement from Santi. “Just stay down,” I yell back. “Nothing good can come from you standing.”

  The funny thing is, I had this feeling before we came in here that something unexpected was going to go down. I didn’t tell Charlie, but I may have sent a quick message to my superior that something was happening. He was given the coordinates and nothing more. If I’m not mistaken, I just heard a car pull up. The others don’t seem to notice; they’ve made no movement to indicate alarm.

  Santi begins coughing and I want to look back to check on him, but the moment I do, Moretti could move and Charlie could shoot. “Just hold on, Santi.”

  “He’s not looking so good. I’m okay with that. I got what I needed. He’s no longer of use to the Rubio family.”

  Moretti continues to smile, making light of the situation. I’m not sure what he thinks is going to happen here, but the Rubio family will no longer be under this man’s thumb. I will make sure of that.

  I hear a footstep in the hall, and this time, both men turn because they heard it as well. I guess they aren’t expecting anyone else this time. Hopefully that means whoever is here now, is with me. With Moretti’s back to me, I’m able to grab ahold of him, pinning his left arm behind his back and my gun against his temple. As we wait for the backup I’m expecting, Moretti doesn’t even try to wriggle free from me. When the figure that passes through the doorway is not who I was expecting, I’m not even stunned.

  41

  A beautiful older woman with stark-white hair and a tailored navy suit marches in like she owns the place. Charlie laughs, and I feel Moretti vibrating beneath my grasp.

  “Lucille, so nice of you to join us.” Moretti’s free hand reaches out like he was waiting for his long-lost lover.

  “Don’t come any closer,” I tell Lucille. I’ve never met Santi’s mother, but when the woman in front of me smiles, I know that she is it. Her lips spread out the same way her son’s does and her blue eyes sparkle in exactly the same way Santi’s can when he’s happy.

  Lucille does not listen to my command as she steps right up to Moretti’s side and kisses him on the cheek, whispering something in his ear that causes him to tremble. Her Italian accent is so thick when she speaks, I can hardly understand what she is saying. “You are way outnumbered here, young man.” She has stepped back and the way she is staring at me reminds me of my own mother, scolding me for something I’d just done wrong.

  My mind is spinning. Is it just me, or does this scenario make no sense at all? How did Mrs. Rubio get involved in this mess? Couldn’t she have gotten what Moretti needed if she was in cahoots with him all along?

  “I bet those wheels are turning,” Moretti speaks. “Lucille and I just got familiar the past few weeks. I didn’t know she held so much hatred toward her family. Paolo and Santi were sores on her past, but she’s ready to move on, turn over a new leaf. She came to help.”

  This whole scenario was planned. The discovery of the camera, Santi being here, Charlie dragging the two of us back to replace what was lost. And now, the presence of the woman, the other person I was not anticipating, shows up to help. She is staring directly at me, reaching into her diamond-encrusted clutch and pulls out a small pistol. I didn’t mean to, but I laugh.

  “It is more powerful than it looks,” she huffs.

  If it were any other person, I’m sure staring down the barrel at two guns would put them in a panic. For me, it’s more of a rush. I know I’m outnumbered and if I don’t get backup soon, I’m pretty certain I won’t get out completely unscathed. That will not stop me from trying though.

  “Madre. What are you doing?” Santi mumbles.

  I feel his presence moving behind me. His unsteady feet slide and fumble against the hard floor, but he is undeniably standing up and getting closer. Moretti moves slightly, but I pull him tighter, digging my barrel deeper into his skull.

  “Santi, siediti,” Lucille shouts at her son, moving from me to him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her point the gun at him. I start dragging Moretti backward because no sane person would allow someone with a loaded weapon to get behind them. After Moretti and I are once again behind the crazy woman with a gun, I put my back against the wall so that I have a vantage point in between the two weapons that could be used against me.

  In the chaos of Lucille entering, none of us heard the noise I had been waiting for. Two long barrels inch themselves through the open door. Behind them, men who are on my side, or at least I assume they are, enter. “Lower your weapons,” the one on the left shouts.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Charlie turns toward them, finally taking his eyes and weapon off me. He doesn’t waste any time and shoots directly at the man gaining ground on him. This causes the other agent to shoot Charlie. Split-second decisions are made throughout the room and before I know it, bullets are ricocheting off things and my ears are ringing from the sound.

  I don’t realize I’ve been hit until I’m lying on top of Moretti, not from injury, but restraining him for his own protection. My shoulder stings as I struggle to pull the man’s arms tight enough to bind them with the zip ties I was carrying. Blood seeps through Moretti’s grey shirt and I realize he’s been shot as well. He writhes beneath me as I tighten the restraints to their capacity. Once I’m up, I take a toll on the bloodshed.

  One officer down, two rogue agents down, one of them presumably dead, one civilian hurt and another untouched but in a spot very different than I expected her to be in. Lucille is cradling her son in her lap, tears streaming down her face as she sings him a lullaby as if she were tucking her small child in at night. I know Santi looks like he has lost a lot of blood, but head wounds bleed tremendous amounts and the person can still live. Which is what I expect from Santi. There are tears coming from his face as well. He is coherent and lucid, so he will be just fine.

  The officer who wasn’t wounded is standing before me, holding his hand out filled with what appears to be a cloth. “You’ve been shot.” He shoves the object against my arm. I grab it from him and press it against the tender spot covered in blood. After thanking the man, I direct him to call for backup. We are going to need people transported to hospitals and another under lock and key until they are well enough to be incarcerated and sent back to the United States.

  Moretti is lucky that I’m the one calling the shots on this because it could be much worse for him. I’m going to let him go to the hospital and get patched up first. Sometimes our perpetrators are sent straight to the clink, no time for healing or rest, and they often encounter more abuse if a case is unsolved and we still need more information from them. Or, he could be dead, which is the case for Charlie. His body is splayed upon the floor, blood seeping into the walls and carpet. He will not heal from his head wound. I’m not entirely certain how I feel about that at the moment. I’m certain it won’t come until after I process the situation.

  Thanks to Moretti’s big mouth, I have enough information to open and close an investigation against two of the CIA’s own agents gone rogue. I don’t know all the specifics of Charlie’s role, but I do know he was weaker than Moretti. Since he is no longer among the living, we will have to depend on Moretti to assist us with his role. That will go one of two ways. Moretti will say that Charlie was the mastermind so that he could try for a lesser sentence. Or the more likely scenario, based on Moretti’s smug attitude, he will tell us that Charlie had no real part in it, so that Moretti can take all the credit for espionage. It will get him life, or better yet, the death penalty, but if he is going to go down, he will want full rewards for his sacrif
ice. He’ll go down in the history books, for sure.

  I sit down beside Santi and his mother while we wait. Turns out, she was here to help, but it was Santi she wanted to assist. He asks, “Did I hear Moretti call you Liam?”

  My upper lip turns up slightly. “You did. That’s my true identity.”

  “Sophia named one of your boys after you. I always wondered where she got the names she chose.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Santi. I’m not those boys’ father.”

  He inhales deeply, pressing the shirt I gave to him harder against his head. “I know. I think I always knew.”

  “Do you know who their father is?”

  Santi’s eyes close and he leans further into his mother. “Padre.”

  “Why didn’t you say something? Confront her?”

  “I did not want to be right. That meant that everything I knew had been a lie. Turns out, that’s the case anyway. My whole past is one big lie. You never cared about me. Sophia probably doesn’t either.” His head is shaking back and forth but he still doesn’t open his eyes. “I heard everything they said.”

  “Sophia hasn’t been an agent since your father was killed. Well, before then. She was in love with him.”

  Lucille gasps.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rubio.”

  “No, it is okay. Just a little bit of a shock. Paolo and I had our differences, but deep down, he was a kind man to me.” She looks down at her son, stroking his face as she talks. “You should know that. We never loved each other. We married because of you and he wanted to be able to stay in Italia, to raise you as an Italian. I found someone who made me happy, and he agreed it was time for me to go, and so I went. I’m sorry that we lied to you for all those years.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me after he died?”

  “It did not matter then. It does now.” Her comment is so matter-of-fact that I’m taken aback.

  I can tell the two of them have some catching up to do, so instead of finishing my story, I stand and start to walk away.

  “You can’t just leave like you did last time,” Santi calls out after me.

  I turn back once more, smiling at my friend. “I will say goodbye this time.”

  His lips spread out wide. “I also want the truth.”

  “You got it,” I tell him. His nod is my permission to leave.

  It’s funny how things end so abruptly. Just hours ago, I was pining to get this mission over with so that I could go home. In a blink of an eye, it happened. The ending was different than how I envisioned it, but all the best stories turn out that way. Who doesn’t like a few surprises, a twist, and a turn to round out the tale?

  For the first time since I started this crazy life, I turn on my phone and dial someone other than my superior. This time, he can wait. The moment Eliza picks up on the other line, I can’t shut up. I want to tell her everything, to let her experience me, the one she doesn’t always get to see because I try not to share it with her. I’m tortured and angry, but most of all, I’m filled with love. That’s how I can do this job and not turn bitter. The reason I can work in a business of violence and not extend that into my personal life.

  I apologize for being sappy before I tell Eliza how much I love her. She laughs but responds that she loves me too. Then tells me to get my ass home to her. When I end the call, I’m elated. I came out here thinking I would have to turn against a friend, one whom I hurt once before. It turned out he wasn’t the bad egg and I can leave him in a much better spot than I did the first go around.

  “Put a shirt on,” someone shouts through an open car window just out of sight. “You are making the rest of us look bad.”

  A familiar face comes into view as the car pulls to a stop at my feet. “Lieutenant.” I stand at attention, the now red shirt still pressed against my chest. “What are you doing here?”

  His large feet are the first out of the door, then the rest of the big man emerges from the car. “Thought you might be in trouble. I intercepted a message sent by our friend Moretti, the one we thought to be dead. I got on the next flight out. I thought I’d be here in time to help bring him in, but I was just a few minutes too late, apparently.”

  “Just a few.”

  He laughs and claps me on the back. Forgetting that my gunshot wound was in striking distance. “Sorry. We need to get you patched up.” The two of us walk to the waiting medics and I update him on everything that happened between my text message and his arrival. Then I tell him about everything else I learned and about how Paolo Rubio was not the mastermind we were after during the last mission. That really stings. A man, a father, died because the man we now have in custody pulled the wool over our eyes and averted our sights in the wrong direction. He wasn’t blameless. I mean, he was rogue, and was involved in some dirty dealings against our country. He was not the lead man. Moretti just led us to believe that. I will never be able to apologize enough to Santi and Sophia; not to mention the boys who never knew their father, for the role I played in Paolo’s death.

  As the medics clean my through and through wound and begin stitching me up, I realize the bullet hole now goes through the very first tattoo placed on my body. And, if I were a sentimental man, I might reflect on the fact that tattoo was created in Rome, and later destroyed in the same place. But, I’m not a sentimental man, and I don’t suggest that the incident happened for a reason. A reason that could lead someone to believe that my mission was successfully complete, after all these years.

  42

  The lieutenant tried to ship me out the moment I was patched up, but I told him I had unfinished business. I had no intention of leaving until I settled things with Sophia and made things right with Santi. I’ve given myself one more day to officially complete the Rome assignment.

  When I pull up to the apartment, my first stop is to clean myself up. I don’t want the boys to see me covered in blood and wonder what happened. I get myself together faster than I’ve ever gotten ready. I’m looking forward to setting things straight with Sophia. She needs to know that Paolo wasn’t as bad as we thought. She also needs to realize that Santi knows about the boys.

  I keep thinking about what Charlie told me that day when we left the estate those weeks ago. Did Santi and Sophia really kiss? Everything else he told me seemed to be a lie, so why shouldn’t that comment be in the same category. I kind of hope it’s one thing he was honest about.

  If I can leave here knowing that Santi and Sophia are happy and will be fine, I will be fulfilled. It is a weird dynamic, the two of them together, considering her sons are Santi’s brothers, but hey, whatever works.

  Sophia knows that something is different when she opens the door. It could be the protruding bandage from my shirt sleeve and collar, but maybe it’s the look on my face. Who knows?

  “What happened?” She grabs ahold of my uninjured arm, pulling me into the apartment and shutting the door behind us. I start from the end of the story and work my way all the way to the beginning as Sophia makes a meal for the four of us to share.

  “I cannot believe it. Paolo was telling me the truth.”

  “He was.”

  Sophia didn’t speak many words to me after that. But during dinner, she told the boys who their father was. Leaving out the parts that made him look bad, of course. She even told them that Santi was their brother. They were confused at first, but their excitement won over and they couldn’t wait to see him and tell them how thrilled they were that he was really family.

  The boys disappeared after dinner and I stuck around to help Sophia clean up and confront her about the other issue that was plaguing me. “Is there something going on between you and Santi?”

  “What? No!” Her intake of breath is quick after that word.

  “It’s okay. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your feelings. You of all people should know that.”

  “It is just too weird. His father is the father of my boys. I’m old enough to be his mother, in fact, if things had gone a little different, I may ha
ve been.”

  “But things didn’t go differently. He may not have been in your sights, but there is no reason he can’t be now. Especially if he also feels the same way.”

  “Nic…”

  “Call me Liam. Niccolo is no more. This is the real me.”

  She grins over at me, batting her lashes in my direction. “I don’t know if I can get past all we’ve been through. Santi is a good man, albeit tainted by what his father put him through. Even though Paolo didn’t perform all of the acts that he was charged with, his dealings weren’t completely legitimate. Deep down, I always knew Paolo wasn’t as evil as Moretti was making him out to be, which is why I think I was able to let myself fall for him. That’s just it though. It was Santi’s father that I was in love with.”

  “Do you think what you feel for Santi is just a figment of that?”

  She chuckles. “Yes. It has to be, right?”

  “It doesn’t have to be. Feelings manifest for many reasons and in many different ways. I’m not telling you what to do, but I think you should give it a chance. See where life takes you. You’ve spent a lot of time alone, raising two fine young boys. I think it’s high time you take a moment for yourself.”

  “I’ve never done it. I’m not even sure I’d know how.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking, do the exact opposite. Follow your heart for once and not your mind.”

  Sophia’s delicate hand finds its way to mine and she places it atop it. “You are so wise in your old age, Liam.”

  I shrug. “I’ve had some pretty amazing teachers along the way.”

  I remove my hand from under hers but use it to pull her in for a hug. This is my official goodbye. She knows it and so do I. We let the embrace linger longer than we should, but how do you set a timeframe on a lifetime?