by Lyssa Layne
Then I kiss her. Hard and long, until she forgets about her brother and the mess we’re in. Until she’s no longer scared. Until it’s just us and all the feelings she keeps unspoken are ringing through me loud and clear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Heartbreaker
“Why are we meeting here?” I haven’t been to the Eastside Bar in ages. Never have any need to haul my ass all the way out to Stanley. Half their staff comes to me and I’ve never had much use for going out and getting hammered.
“Because we won’t look shady doing our shady business here, that’s why.” Marcus slides into the booth across from me. Lucas is still standing. Sketch hasn’t even made it in the door. My eyes move from her on the sidewalk to Ali behind the bar.
“You the only one here today?” I call out to her.
She dumps a bucket of ice into her well. They’ve only been open a couple of minutes and probably weren’t expecting customers to be here so early. “Jimmy Sparkles is in the back changing out a keg. Why, you got a big party bus rolling up here I should know about?”
“Not exactly.” I nod toward the door and she follows the gesture with her gaze, then grins.
“Got it.” She laughs and drops the empty bucket on the floor along the wall as she makes her way to the door and swings it open. “You can come in, Sketch. She’s not here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grumbles, slinking in past Ali and hurrying over to our table. When she realizes the only open seat is next to my brother, she snorts in disgust and pulls up a chair instead.
“I’m not even gonna ask,” Lucas mutters, stretching his arm out behind me and resting it on the back of the booth like he’s thirteen and making a lame attempt to put his arm around me. The reality isn’t that far off. He’s not a nervous teenager with hormones running amok, but a grown ass man with testosterone pumping through him on overload, increasing his desire to shield and protect me. And like that clumsy teenager, he has to be very careful not to get caught.
“I brought papers and a cashier’s check,” I say, laying both out on the table for Marcus to see. “All you gotta do is sign the building back over to me and take the money.”
“And then get the fuck up out of here,” Lucas adds, just in case that part wasn’t clear.
Marcus smirks. “Relax, killer. We worked this out before you were even a part of the conversation. I know what role I have to play in this.” He scans the agreement my lawyer drew up. It’s not being documented as a sale. He’s merely relinquishing his rights to his portion of the inheritance. The payoff is completely under the table. It was the fastest, simplest way to handle the matter with the least amount of involvement from anyone else. No point in trying to do any of this by the book at this point anyway.
“Do you need a pen?”
My brother stops reading to lift his head in my direction. “No.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“Sunday, actually.”
Sketch stands from her chair so fast she nearly knocks it over. “I’m not sitting here until Sunday.”
“Sit your ass back down,” I hiss at her. “And you,” I point at my brother, “try that again.”
“I’ll take the papers, you hold onto the check until Sunday. We’ll exchange money at the warehouse, right where Rediger can see.”
Lucas shifts himself into an upright position. I can feel his entire body tense up beside me.
“There are so many fucking things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start. I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll just throw one out there, why Sunday?”
Marcus glares at him. I know it’s driving him nuts that I insisted on bringing Lucas along.
“Because there’s a fight on Saturday. I only just found out about it. It’s a big deal. Rediger invited some major people. Higher ups found out how successful our little operation’s been, so he thought he’d invite them down to impress them. Show ‘em a good time. Maybe land himself a promotion, so to speak. There’s going to be so much fucking money walking in the doors, he’s not going to give two shits about the hundred grand I hand him. Even after his boss walks out with the big pot, Rediger’s share will be plenty big enough to keep him smiling. We gotta give him the fight. He gets his last big win. His bosses make bank, all the other players go home with lighter wallets, but happy to have spent the money on a quality weekend of booze, boobs and bloody fists. Then we shut it down. Everybody wins, including you.”
I don’t feel good about this. It’s getting too big. Dealing with Marcus was stressful, but I could manage. Rediger made things scary in a way I could barely bring myself to think about, but again, I could still deal, could still wrap my mind around what needed to be done, could still see a way out. Now? I don’t know. Marcus’s world stands in its own realm. It exists independently from ours. Laws and rules never seem to apply to the people he’s talking about. They have enough money and power to create any outcome they desire, and none of them are looking to land in prison or wind up dead. If it turns into us against them, we’re not coming out on top.
“Swear, Marcus. Swear to me that you still have control over this. That you can end it after the weekend.” This time I don’t let him turn away. I force him to hold eye contact until he says the words out loud.
“It’s Madi, Liv,” he says in a hushed voice so low I wonder if anyone else at the table can even hear. “I know I’m never going to be more than the asshole sperm donor to her, and I don’t deserve to be, but she’s still my daughter. I would die before I let him touch even a hair on her head. I’ll end it. I swear.”
I nod and tap Lucas on the side. I’m ready to get out of here. Seeing Marcus shred enough of his cold, black armor to actually reveal shards of his shattered soul is more than I can bear. Accepting him as the hard, heartless piece of shit he’s become is so much easier than remembering he’s really just broken beyond recognition.
“Finally,” Sketch grumbles, getting to her feet as well. She’s the first one to the door, running out of the bar almost as fast as she used to run in. Funny how our stories change even when they continue to repeat themselves.
“Now what?” Lucas asks, holding the door for me.
“Now we wait until Sunday.” It’s only four more days. I can make it four more days.
***
I was wrong. I barely made it one. One day since our sit down with Marcus and I’m climbing the walls. I can’t stand how this feels, can’t take waiting, the being in limbo. It’s worse than anything up until this point has felt. At least before I felt like things were moving. Maybe not with a clear destination in front of us, but moving nonetheless. Motion, action, always feels better.
“That’s the last of the seven black cars to leave the parking lot,” Mouth observes. “What’s the deal with mobsters and their car buying preferences? They all color blind or something? I know black is all gangsta looking, sleek, dark and mysterious. But there’s gotta be perks to going with a nice blood red in their line of work.”
“You’re gross,” Princess remarks quietly, never taking her eyes from the sketch pad in her lap. We haven’t had another human being in here in over three hours. Had to cancel our appointments for the evening when the parade of sedans started moving in. We should have just gone home, but none of us could seem to make it to the door. This is our place. Our home. Our sanctuary. And no matter what happens, we all have an innate need to protect it.
“Meanwhile, Lucas may want to look into buying something a little more inconspicuous than his bright and shiny white truck, at least while he’s trying to blend in around here.” Sketch turns away from the window. “Did you know he was camped out across the street at the bakery with the shit coffee?”
I drop the collection of dead pens and dried out markers I’ve been sorting out from my desk into the trash. If the criminals are calling it a night, I suppose we can too. “Yep. Been there all day. Memphis is with him too.”
“I don’t know. Shiny white
truck seems appropriate.” Mouth smirks. “You know, for a knight and all.”
“If the next words to roll off of your unruly tongue depict me as some sort of weakened damsel in distress, I’m going to punch you.” Lucas makes a great hero, I’m just not generally in the business of needing one and I’m eager for this phase of our story to be over with.
Mouth is about to entertain herself further by continuing this unpleasant harassment she’s settled into when a loud bang explodes in the silence.
“What was that?” Princess’s eyes are wide and nowhere near the drawing she’s had her eyes glued to for the last thirty minutes.
“A gunshot.” I don’t know how I know this. I’ve never heard a gun fired before, not in real life anyway. Or maybe I have and I blamed the noise on something else, something less frightening. So, who am I to say what it was or wasn’t, except the cold sweat running down my spine is telling me with an undeniable certainty there was a gun being fired in the building behind us. The building my brother is in.
“Lucas and Memphis are still in the truck,” Sketch reports, still standing near the window. “They’re not running over here to save the day, Heartbreaker. Maybe you’re wrong.”
Mouth is silent. For once.
“I don’t suppose anyone is going to go and check to see what the sound was?” Princess squeaks from her chair, her knees pulled up to her chest.
“I’ll go.” I’ll feel better once I know.
“Are you insane? You can’t go out there.” Sketch abandons her post to cut me off on my way to the back door.
“I thought you just decided no one was firing any weapons.”
“Yeah, for the moment. There’s still the issue of drug lords and arms dealers now making a habit of coming and going outside that door. I’d just as soon you stay inside and we all remain in the unknown regarding the mysterious bang.”
I move the arm she has spread out to block my way and keep walking.
“I’m going to look. You really think they’re going to shoot me, out in the open, with x amount of witnesses, just because I stepped outside?”
She nods, dead serious. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do. It’s pitch black out there now. Witnesses or not, they wouldn’t think twice about pulling the trigger.”
She’s probably right, but I can’t add hiding to the endless waiting I’m already doing.
“Then do me a solid and take care of Madi.”
I push down on the handle and step out into the open before she can stop me.
There’s no one out here. Not a soul in sight. Although, I suppose given the people I’m dealing with, soul may not be as clear a term as it ought to be. Not a person in sight is probably more accurate.
More interesting than that is the complete silence coming from the warehouse. The only time it’s been this quiet out here since Marcus moved in is during their sleeping hours when no one’s around. And he’s still here. His car is parked exactly where it was earlier, before his company showed up. Rediger’s is here too.
Still hidden in the shadows of the awning, I take a moment to collect my thoughts. Then the door to the warehouse swings open, and the man I currently hate most in world walks out in a hurry, straight for his car. He doesn’t even bother with his headlights until he’s nearly out of sight, heading down the main road into town.
I wait. My brother should be out any second now. He’s the last one left. Last one in that building. Unless it really was a gunshot, and he’s dead.
Lucas
“Heartbreaker went to check out the noise,” Sketch yells into my ear as soon as I answer.
“Fuck!” I swing the door open and start running as soon as my feet hit the pavement. I don’t even wait to explain to Memphis, I just go. “That was a fucking gunshot. Why the hell did you let her leave the building?! I thought the deal was nobody leaves until after everyone is out of there.” That’s what we agreed to, the compromise she insisted on when I tried to get them all to clear out earlier.
“You’re the genius sleeping with her. If you don’t know by now that she’ll stroll into the lion’s den without blinking to save someone she loves, then I don’t fucking know what to tell you.”
“I’m almost there. Nobody else goes outside, you hear me?!” Sketch isn’t that different from Liv. She’ll go in the lion’s den too, she just won’t be as quiet about it.
Heavy footsteps behind me remind me I have a friend just like Liv’s. He catches up and gestures for us to cut around the left to get to the warehouse. It seems like the longer way from here, but it’ll give us a better vantage point when we round the corner.
I catch a brief glimpse of her wild hair as it flies inside the doorway to the warehouse. I curse under my breath and speed up even more. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Why couldn’t I have fallen for a sweet girl, who likes walks on the beach and going to the movies? Safe shit like that.
I count the seconds before I’m inside as well, Memphis right behind me. It’s dark inside. Darker even than it was a moment ago. Not a single light is lit and there are no windows in this part of the building. Then I see her bright pink shirt glowing in the open room ahead of me.
She’s hunched over on the ground, mumbling frantically to herself.
“Who is that? Is it Marcus?” Memphis slows down beside. That’s when I notice she’s not talking to herself. There’s someone lying on the ground at her feet. Her hands are pressed to his chest and her body rises and falls with each silent sob. My mind is still taking everything in when Memphis lights up the screen of his phone, and there are no more questions left for either of us to ask.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Heartbreaker
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.” He told me he’d die for her. He said it, and now I can’t help but wonder if he knew all along it would come to that.
“Get out of here.” His voice is wheezy and laced with pain. Blood is drenching his shirt and no matter how hard I lean into the pool of red flowing out of him, no amount of pressure will make it stop.
“Move.” Lucas orders and I do. I don’t even question where he came from. I already knew he would show, was counting on it, if I’m honest.
I watch as he strips out of his own shirt, bundles it up and presses it down against my brother’s chest. Memphis is kneeling on the ground across from him, holding the light so Lucas can see what he’s doing. My brother’s lids continue to flutter, his irises making brief appearances every now and again, assuring me he’s still alive. Still conscious. But for how long?
I hear footsteps. Lots of them. Fast ones. Light ones. Like high heels. Next, I’m surrounded.“Oh my God,” Princess gasps, dropping down to her knees beside me.
A hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it tight. Sketch.
Mouth doesn’t stop. Not until she reaches Marcus. “Is he conscious?”
“Yeah. Looks like the bullet went straight through,” Lucas explains, lifting his shoulder to show her the wound.
“We need to get him out of here.” She gestures for Memphis and Lucas to pick him up. “We can go to my place. It’s close and no one will look for him there.”
“He needs a hospital,” I force out through clenched teeth. I hate this. All of this. If we’re all going down in flames, he at least has to survive this, if for no other reason but to have to live with the guilt for as long as humanly possible.
“No,” my brother grunts in pain. “No, hospital. Just leave me.”
“Get his feet,” Lucas says, completely ignoring my brother’s request and mine.
Memphis complies and Mouth walks along beside them, holding the soaked t-shirt in place. She looks straight at me, “I’ll call my grandpa. He’ll meet me at my place, no questions asked. He’ll fix him, you’ll see.” The self-taught jungle doc from Guatemala. God, who knew that connection would come in handy someday?!
Princess and I huddle together, using each other to help get us back to our feet. “I’m going with you.”
“What?”
“She’s right,” Princess agrees, moving like she’s suddenly on a mission. “If they’re gonna be short a body, least we can do is confuse them a bit. We get lucky enough, maybe they’ll just assume someone else got there first. Either way, I doubt people in the business of cleaning up after cold-blooded murders are big on drawing attention to themselves when they fuck up. Marcus lays low long enough, maybe they’ll just figure he’s dead and floating in the ocean, you know, sleeping with the fishes, so to speak.”
“I can’t believe you gave me shit about blood colored mob cars earlier,” Mouth calls back just as they’re leaving the building.
Princess just shrugs and turns her attention back to Sketch. “Mop, wipes and trash bags. Anything else?”
“That ought to do it.” They both start walking, dragging me along.
“Covering up an attempted murder. That’s like, a crime, right?” I clarify, just in case no one else is aware.
“Yeah. Tampering with evidence, hindering an investigation, obstruction of justice, take your pick. I’m pretty sure they all apply.” Sketch holds the door for us. “Of course, the few years in jail we could wind up with if we get caught will still be nothing compared to what Rediger and his dudes will do to us if they find out.”
“Oh, goody.” We’re on a roll here.
Clean up after a crime scene, shockingly, turns out not to be all that different than clean up after a session. Sure, there is considerably more blood involved, but all in all, the process is pretty much the same. By the time we’re done, the place is cleaned to hospital standards and I can’t help but wonder if the jungle doc has access to the same cleaning supplies, or even feels the need for them.
When Sketch winds up stepping on the bullet casing, I almost feel like our luck is changing. If we get out of here without leaving any evidence behind, we just might make it out this whole thing alive after all.