Running a finger down the side of her face he felt her perfect, porcelain complexion.
“Won’t you come back to join me?” she grinned cheekily.
“How could I not,” he smiled and jumped under the covers.
For a long while they kissed and held each other. They savoured the moment and pressed themselves to each other’s bodies. Anna loved the feeling of his strong and sturdy hands on her body and she let them roam freely. As he nuzzled into her neck his cupped her breasts gently and pinched softly at a nipple. She immediately gasped and opened her legs. He rolled on top and grew hard as he felt her wetness soak through her panties and onto him.
“You’re ready so soon,” he whispered into her ear.
“I can’t help it. You’re so perfect,” and she rose her hips up to meet his.
They kissed softly as they moved their bodies together. It wasn’t long until they climaxed in unison and wrenched themselves apart as they gasped for breath. Anna looked out to the clear sky and wondered what it covered. Grabbing the bed sheets she wound them around herself and walked to the tall windows.
She looked down to Austin at all the people on their way to work. She envied their routine and their normalcy.
“Do you think I’ll ever have a job?” she was still looking down.
“A job? Right now we have to focus on getting away. Money and work can come later,”
“But seriously. Do you ever think I can be normal?”
“No,” he sounded harsh but he didn’t mean to. “I think you’re too good for that,” and he joined her by the window.
He wrapped his arms around her and they both looked out to the world.
“If it wasn’t for everything…. This would be a perfect day,” he thought out loud.
“It is a perfect day,” and she turned round to kiss him. “So what now?”
“We need to get a bus,”
“But how do I get over the border? I don’t have a passport,”
“It’s ok. I have an idea,” and he held her tighter. “I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
~
Jorge and Jerry had spent all night searching the Richardson neighborhood but found nothing at all. For a moment Jerry had looked up to an abandoned apartment and wondered if they’d been in there but he thought they probably hadn’t. It looked to him as if they were long gone. After a fruitless evening they had returned to the car and sat in the sunshine. Jorge had his feet poking out the window and he studied the way the sunlight glinted off the scales of the snakeskin. He lit his fourth cigarette of the morning.
“This is kinda nice,” he relaxed back in his seat.
“Yeah for you maybe, I’m exhausted AND starving by the way. We should get outta here and find breakfast,” he yawned.
“Then what?”
“Fuck I dunno, we can’t go back to Angelo without a result,”
“No we cannot,” Jorge blew out smoke and watched it drift across the front of the car.
A heavy silence was settling inside the car. Jerry was picking at a nail nervously and making furtive glances all around.
“Fuck!” he eventually lashed out and punched the dashboard.
He instantly regretted it and winced in agony as he cradled his hand. Looking down he saw that it was definitely broken. Feeling livid Jorge watched as his face became redder and redder.
“Yo man what’s happened to you?”
“I’m just so fucking frustrated. Where could he have gone? He gotta be around here!” and he stepped out of the car and kicked at the dirt on the side of the road.
The wind wafted it across the bonnet of the car and it made Jorge fume.
“Mind the car you asshole!” he shouted as he tossed his cigarette end out the window.
Jerry clapped his hands to his head and looked up to the sky.
“We’re fucked,” he whispered. “If we don’t find him we’re fucked,”
Jorge was watching his breakdown from inside and he watched as the chubby man in the sweaty, crumpled suit walked away down the road. He let him cool off for a few minutes and then started the engine and drove forward. Catching up with Jerry he talked through the window.
“Hey…. Come back won’t ya? We’ll not find him if you throw a hissy fit,” Jorge tried to reason.
But Jerry was too frustrated, too angry to care about what he was saying. Instead he just kept walking while staring at the ground. Jorge found it amusing watching the big Mafia henchman act like a spoiled kid. He humored him for a while and then eventually braked and reached over to open the passenger door.
“Get in you dummy,” he laughed.
And Jerry got back in the car with a furrowed brow and a pout. He leant against the window and held his head in his hand. All he had was Carl’s dog tags and he couldn’t go back to Angelo with just that.
“If you were a Navy-Seal and you were tryin’ to escape… where would you go?” he asked his new partner
“Hmmm…. California? Ain’t there a base there?” Jorge suggested.
“How would I know?”
It looked like they’d hit a dead end. Jerry sighed heavily and looked to the dog tags that were hanging from the rear view mirror.
“And you’re telling me that he didn’t even bite at his old man gettin’ a beaten?”
“Nope…” Jorge shook his head in disgust. “Either he didn’t get the message or he doesn’t care.
“Harsh stuff,”
“Yuh,”
“I wonder what happened between the two,”
“None of my business,” Jorge shrugged.
CHAPTER 19
John Reiner had the most pain in his right side. That’s where the Puerto Rican had kicked him the most. He was certain he was close to death and after a few days he had resigned himself to it, thinking it was a punishment for not loving his son enough. He’d suffered greatly this last year and more than ever he appreciated what it meant to be a father.
He was still in the basement on the floor and despite the fact the sadist in snakeskin had cut him free he still hadn’t moved. Thinking back to that very moment made him shudder… The way he had pulled a knife out from his boot and brandished it in his face, and John remembered the exact moment when he saw the look in the young man’s eyes change. It looked as though a light flickered inside him as he was reminded to own a conscience. Instead of plunging the knife into the old man’s gut like he promised he slashed the blade through the rope and John had tumbled over. Free at last he felt his wrists regain blood flow as he watched his captor walk away and not come back.
Now all Reiner Senior had to do was summon the strength to sit up. If he could sit he could stand. If he could stand he could walk, and if he could do that he could tackle the stairs. The rest would follow. The pain was indescribable as he wrapped an arthritic hand around a water pipe to hoist himself up. Finally he was resting against the wall and he felt the chill of the concrete. It soothed him momentarily. He then gripped the same pipe again and with all his strength, pulled his weight up from the cold floor and stood up.
Feeling dizzy at first he leaned against the wall to steady himself. It was in this moment that he appreciated the pain in a warped way, because it was the only thing stimulating his mind enough to keep him awake. Three days without food and only the occasional glass of water hadn’t kept him in good health.
And in those first few moments of being vertical the thought of food and water propelled him to walk. Taking it inch by inch in baby steps he shuffled to leave the wall. He wobbled at first but he was determined to keep going despite him being certain he had at least one fractured rib and a broken nose he could barely breathe through.
He shuffled a little further and soon he was at the halfway mark to the stairs. Blinkered vision developed quickly as he kept his eyes on the prize. The stairs would lead him from this squalor. They would take him to the bathroom, to the phone, to food and water and most importantly to his son.
John didn’t know what trouble his boy was
in but it had to be serious and every second he was away from him made him more impatient and terrified for his safety. He may have been an old man but he loved his child and he would die for him.
So close to the stairs now he could almost smell the fresh air that came from above. With a mighty exertion of effort he made one last big step and he was at the bottom. He clung onto the bannister and readied himself for the climb. It may have only been his basement steps that he’d walked up a thousand times, but in the moment they looked like Everest.
He placed his right foot out first and he winced in pain as he felt a twinge in his side. Looking down to his sweater he saw crusted, dried blood on the matted wool and it angered him. He was outraged that such a degenerate could enter his home and hurt him because he felt like it, because he somehow felt entitled to.
The rage motivated him. He was going to find out who these bastards were before they got to his boy and he was going to make them pay. Before he knew it, he was five steps up and then another one, and another one, until he was at the top of the staircase looking down.
The achievement that was aglow in his heart was immeasurable, and he looked down to the corner of the room that became his dungeon. It looked pathetic and he wondered why he had let himself stay there so long.
Managing to shuffle himself along the walls he found his way to the kitchen table. He collapsed on one of the chairs but was proud to get there. A week old bottle of warm, orange juice was sat before him and he threw it down his throat. Despite its sour taste it revitalized him enough to stand up and make his way to the sink.
He bent over with his head under the cold tap and drank freely. Then he let the water glide over the injuries on his face to numb the pain. It felt good as it cascaded over his nose and washed away the blood.
Drying himself with a tea towel he looked down to his pants and was aghast to see that he had soiled himself. He thought that he may have done it on the first day of him being captive but he wasn’t sure. Fear can do strange things to your mind and body. He decided his next port of call was the downstairs bathroom.
He edged his way through the corridor and before he knew it he was almost there. The pain was constant in his mind but he managed to imagine it as living outside his body. He visualized seeing it as though it was a flaming, red orb outside of his body and he could control it at will. It was a technique he learned many years ago when working under cover. He sadly remembered having to teach it to his wife when her body was gripped by the cancer.
As he entered the bathroom he was instantly hit by the sight of her things still on the counter. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away, and as he ran the shower he brushed his fingertips over a pair of her earrings. She had removed them before taking her last bath in the house and they’d sat there ever since. That was six months ago now and as he tentatively picked them up, he noticed they were starting to get covered in a fine layer of dust.
He placed them back on the counter and removed his clothes. It was agony as he bent down to take off his shoes but he’d come this far and wasn’t going to let himself be defeated by a pair of Hush Puppies. Climbing into the shower and pulling the curtain across, he let the warm water caress his body. He had never felt a pleasure like it.
However he’d always been fond of water. No water where or who you were, water washed away your troubles. It never judged you, made you feel bad or asked anything of you. It was merely there day or night. It could give you life or wash away your sins. Either way John imagined it to be proof in some way of God’s existence. Yet as he stood naked and bruised, he wondered if there really could be a God with all the terrible things happening in the world. He sure hoped there was.
As he reached for the soap his eyes caught sight of the little, ornate bottle with pink writing. This was Miriam’s favourite shampoo. She’d been buying the same brand since she was nineteen and all John had to do was open the bottle, and he’d be right back on their first date at the drive-thru. How much he longed to see Miriam even if it was just one last time to say how much he loved her. Not that she didn’t know this. John had given her the best life any woman could have wanted and treated her like a princess. He hoped if he passed down one trait to Carl it would the way you should treat a lady. He imagined his son would someday make a great husband and father, and for all he knew he could be already.
He placed the shampoo bottle back on the side of the bath and sighed solemnly. More than ever he missed Miriam. But in a way he was thankful she was dead. That way she would never have had to live through the ordeal he did. Despite working in law enforcement for his entire adult life he tried his best to shelter her from what happened in the world. He hoped she went to the grave thinking everybody’s life was rainbows and lollipops.
As John dried himself he focussed on feeling better. His strength was coming back to him along with his motivation and he was eager to get on the road. But he needed to formulate a plan. As he dressed in clean clothes and looked into the bedroom mirror he noticed the liver spots on his hands, his thinning hair and of course his injuries. For a moment he doubted himself. Who did he think he was? He was no spring chicken and could barely walk let alone save his son. But he could at least try. He could never live out his remaining years knowing he didn’t try.
Carl thought his father didn’t know him at all but John knew that was wrong. He knew his son more than he knew himself because he’d created him hadn’t he? He was made in his father’s image and as he grew up he saw the young man grow up to be a spitting image of him. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment to gather his thoughts.
So the kid was in trouble but where would he hide out? And why wasn’t he fighting his way out of trouble? The questions perplexed him and he felt the need to look through his old photo albums for inspiration. He picked out one labelled Mexico ’88. He saw Carl’s smiling face in each photo as he ran through the landscape of Monterrey.
It was such a beautiful place, and with John’s early retirement money he’d managed to buy a luxurious holiday home in the city. His family and friends often wondered why he’d pick such a place, but it was somewhere he’d often travelled to as a child to visit distant cousins. He had an affinity for the landscape and as Carl grew up he did too.
As he flicked through the photos, he thought this was the time in which his boy was his happiest. His last vacation there was just before he enlisted in the Navy. And when he came back home the light had gone out of his eyes. John had a feeling that if anywhere could recapture Carl’s happiness that was it.
John Reiner quickly packed a small suitcase, grabbed as much packaged food out the kitchen cupboards as he could and hurried to his car. Mexico was a long way from Chicago but he’d make it.
CHAPTER 20
The line at the bus station was exhausting Anna, and she leaned against Carl.
“What’s taking so long,” she huffed.
“I don’t know sweetheart,” Carl put his arm around her. “Shouldn’t be much longer,”
“And I still don’t understand how you’re getting me to Mexico. I don’t have a passport and just… I dunno. It all seems so crazy,”
“Look, trust me,” he spun her round to meet his gaze. “I know what I’m doing…. Kinda. At least I have a plan. We’re gonna get on a bus to San Antonio first,”
“Why the hell are we going there?” Anna seemed tired of it all and outraged.
“I have a person…. Who I can call,”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll just have to wait and see. But after that we’ll be only a couple hours away from the border I promise. Then we’ll be in Mexico,”
“But where will we live?” tears began to sting her eyes.
“Don’t worry, I have a place. Besides, there’s a lot to do in Mexico. There’s a nice art museum I’d love for you to see,”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “An art museum? Now you’re some lover of art?”
He laughed. “Not in general, but this museum is ver
y important to me. I’m just trying to cheer you up. Everything will be fine.”
Anna remained unconvinced. “You’re acting real weird,” and she worried about what she’d got herself into.
There was a change that drifted over Carl since the first time she met him. Granted the situation they were in wasn’t one conducive to acting normally but still… he seemed to become increasingly paranoid. He was becoming jittery and strange when he talked. And when Anna looked to him she’d occasionally find him lost in the moment as if his mind had drifted away to another era. She figured he was harbouring some demons but only time would tell if he would open up to her about them.
The lined moved slowly but steadily and soon enough they were at the window buying their tickets.
“Have a nice trip!” the girl behind the counter smiled.
But Anna could tell she looked at them strangely. They did, after all, look like peculiar kids on the run, except Carl wasn’t so much of a kid anymore. As they walked through the bus station she thought they couldn’t have looked more suspicious and prominent if they tried. But maybe she was the one becoming paranoid.
“Is that our bus over there?” Anna pointed.
“Sure is,”
“It looks kinda old and dirty,” she grimaced.
“You never been on a coach before?” Carl laughed.
“Nope,” Anna shook her head.
“Well let me give you the grand tour,” and he placed a hand on her lower back to comfort her as she walked ahead.
She climbed the steps up into the coach and showed the driver her ticket. He smiled and nodded at her politely and she was good to go. She hovered in the gangway for a moment feeling afraid and confused. A queue began to form behind her, and people were agitated as the entrance to the bus became congested. But Anna didn’t notice. She was too busy running different scenarios in her mind. There was something so terrifying about being trapped in a tin can for hour after hour with strangers pressed up against you wherever you looked.
“Anna, what’s wrong?” Carl nudged her to move forward and she did so apprehensively.
“I just don’t like this it feels weird. I feel trapped,”
“Don’t worry, nobody really likes buses, but we’re safer in here than anywhere else,” he squeezed her hand.
The Hitman's Last Job Page 10