by J. M. Colail
“You think you know, then?”
“I think I know men like you. Skill and coldness, this is what is needed. When something to live for is found, they lose these things. Leaving the business of death means you have rediscovered what is joyful in life, yes?”
D said nothing.
“I tell you what you come here for. You have come to force from me an oath that I will not harm Jack Francisco. Him who you love. To make sure I agree, you take my men from me, and from them you take what they know. You will now tell me about the evidence you have, the crates, the envelopes, the films and videos of what they have told you. You will tell me how if anything happens to your man or to yourself, all of it goes to the FBI. Away I fly, join my brother behind bars, my organization smashed to pieces by so much revealed.” Raoul shook his head. “So much time and effort, la sombra. All you had to do was ask.”
“I needed insurance.”
“Dr. Francisco can do me no more harm. I might have taken my venganza in time. Perhaps not. Perhaps seeing you retired, no more killing men in my business who escape the law, perhaps this is reason enough for Francisco to remain free and safe. A man like you bereaved, with nothing to live for, on a vengeance quest of his own….” Raoul chuckled. “That I need like I need a hole in my head, you see?”
D allowed himself a tiny smile. “Guess I coulda jus’ called.”
“I ought to kill you where you sit for those six men lost.”
“Maybe so, but uh… I oughta warn ya that—”
“You’ve taken steps against any such action of mine. Yes, of course you have.” He sighed. “You could tell me where they are.”
“If I did, you’d kill me.”
Dominguez cocked his head back and forth. “Perhaps yes, perhaps no. I may find them myself, you know.”
Now it was D’s turn to chuckle. “You won’t. And I’ve taken steps fer that too. Minute one of ’em goes missin’—”
“Yes, yes. All contingencies covered.” Raoul stood up. “You may tell your doctor to come out of his hidey-hole. He is safe from me and anyone who works for me. I will make it my business that he is safe. No one will come for him.”
D rose to his feet. “I gotcher word on that?”
“My word. Bolstered by all that evidence you have at the ready. How many banks is it split between?”
D smirked. “Fourteen.”
Raoul nodded. “You are nothing if not thorough, Mr. Dane.”
All the air went out of the room, or at least out of D’s lungs.
Dominguez smiled. “Preparations are not only yours to make. And is it not time for you to take that name back?”
It’s over.
It cain’t be over. Musta forgotten somethin’.
You ain’t. You spent months settin’ this up. Yer jus freaked out Dominguez was a step ahead.
What if he goes back on his word?
Yer ready for it. You got the goods on him.
But Jack’ll be dead. Helluva chance ta take.
Was always gonna be a chance, whether he brought it up or you shoved it down his throat. You lettin’ that chance steal away what you want? What Jack wants?
I wanna hide. Safest ta do nothin’. Let him stay there safe. Any chance, small as it is, is too much chance.
Then if he gets hit by a car in a week, won’t you feel like a dumbass? Take what fate’s given ya, asshole. Everthin’ you ever had’s been taken away. Now you been given something. You better take it if ya know what’s good for ya.
Guess… guess there ain’t nothin’ more ta do.
Just go get him.
D CONSULTED the scrap of paper Megan had given him, and then headed up the stairs to the second level. Jack’s was apartment C. A… B… here it is.
He stood before the door, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Hi. Uh… how are ya?
No, no.
Hello, Jack. I’m back.
Shit, that fuckin’ rhymes. Sounds like fuckin’ Sesame Street.
Hi there. Off with yer clothes.
Nothin’ like gettin’ right ta the point, huh?
D ran a hand through his hair. He probably wouldn’t have to say much; if he knew Jack, he’d say enough for both of them.
He took a deep breath, and knocked.
And waited.
And waited.
Shit, he ain’t home.
But Megan said he wasn’t workin’ at Borders tonight.
Don’t mean he cain’t go someplace else, dumbass.
He stepped back from the door, casting his eyes about as if Jack might be hiding nearby, waiting to spring out and surprise him.
For want of a better idea, D headed back the way he’d come, thinking vague thoughts about parking in an unobtrusive spot and watching for Jack to return, then going to the door. He got out his keys as his feet hit the sidewalk, but as soon as he came out from beneath the shadow of the corridor, he felt himself being watched. He turned toward the parking lot.
There was Jack, about thirty feet away. Messenger bag across his chest, keys in hand, sunglasses held in his teeth. His mouth dropped open and the sunglasses fell to the ground, then the keys dropped to the grass with a muted jingle.
D’s breath caught, the sight of him slamming into his stomach like a cannonball. Goddamn, I fergot how fuckin’ beautiful he is. Jack had been primarily an idea to him during their separation, a motivating force, by necessity pushed back from being a flesh-and-blood man so D wouldn’t miss him too badly.
Now, even with Jack way over there, D could suddenly smell his skin and taste his lips again, as if he’d been kissing him not five seconds before.
Jack looked shellshocked. He shut his eyes tight, then opened them again. D smiled, and of all the thousands of first words he’d imagined himself saying, what came tumbling from his mouth was something he’d never even considered.
“Hey, darlin’.”
Jack’s face…. D was hard pressed to describe it, but “imploded” came close. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the concrete lip of the sidewalk. D strode toward him, his arms opening all on their own, wrapping around Jack when he hit D’s chest like one of those snappy metal bracelets that you banged on your wrist. Jack let out a sob; D could feel him shaking, his hands clutching big handfuls of D’s shirt. One of his hands slid up to cup the back of D’s head. “Your hair’s so long,” he stammered.
D chuckled. Of all the things ta comment on first, he picks my hair.
Jack pulled back and grabbed D’s face in his hands, his face wet. “Goddamn, are you real? Or have I just finally gone nuts?”
“Might have, but I am really here, doc.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Jack breathed, and yanked D’s face forward to kiss him, hard and desperate. D gave himself up to it, not caring if anyone saw, if anyone drove in, if anybody was peeking out a window. His arms snaked around Jack’s chest, his reassuring heft in his arms, the warmth of his body seeping through D’s permafrost and melting still more of it, melting him all the way through as he could now allow. He teased Jack’s lips open with his tongue and wallowed, gorging himself, rolling in riches that no longer had to be saved for a rainy day, because no cloud would ever darken the sky again.
They broke off, foreheads together, both breathing hard. “You’re back for good?” Jack whispered, sounding like he was afraid to ask.
D nodded. “It’s all done, Dr. Francisco. You’re a free man.”
“But… how? How did you—”
“Shush,” D said, with a quick headshake. “Time enough for all that. Just lemme bask for a minute before ya start in with all them questions you wanna ask.” Jack fell silent and they stood there, wrapped up tight, for a few moments. “Missed you bad,” D said, quiet.
“Me too,” Jack said, his hand on D’s cheek. “Just tell me one thing, okay?”
“What?”
“Is this for real? Are we… can it….” He stopped and started over. “Are we really going to be together?”
D smiled. “Well, f
er now, it looks that way. ’Til we start gettin’ on each other’s nerves, anyway.”
Jack laughed, a quick, surprised chuckle. “God, all I wanted these past months was the chance for you to get on my nerves.”
“Guess yer in luck, then.”
He drew back and looked in D’s eyes again, his own shining. “I can’t believe you really came back, D.”
D sighed, and slid his hands up Jack’s chest to cup his jaw in both hands. “Anson. That’s my name. Anson Dane.” It was so easy to finally say it.
Jack smiled, slow like the dawn breaking, and D felt a lump rise in his throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Anson.”
D pulled Jack close again and hugged him tight, burying his face in Jack’s neck, smelling like sun again today. He shut his eyes and saw his vault, its door hanging wide, wrenched from its hinges, all its contents spilled out and flown away like birds into the sky, the peace of its emptiness filling him with the knowledge that he would never need it again.
CHAPTER 30
THIS IS like a movie.
No, it’s like the end of a movie.
Except it’s actually the beginning.
Dr. Jack Francisco, fully in possession of his birth name, medical credentials, a brand-new driver’s license and reissued Social Security card, had a helpless, doofy smile on his face as he drove down an endless stretch of two-lane blacktop through the Colorado mountains. The sky was blue, it was a warm June afternoon, and he was driving a bright red 1968 Mustang convertible.
He’d just about shit himself when D had driven up in it looking like a movie star, one arm stretched out across the bench seat, smirking underneath his mirrored sunglasses. “I thought you were going to rent a car,” Jack had said, his eyes bugging out of his head.
“Did.”
“I didn’t know Avis rented vintage Mustangs,” he said, grinning as D popped up out of the car, vaulting over the driver’s side door without opening it like he was in a James Dean movie.
“Don’t,” he said, swaggering over. “I found this vintage car rental place. Thought it’d be… ya know. Fun.”
Jack arched an eyebrow. “I’m trying to reconcile the idea of you making a decision based on fun and it isn’t working.”
“Hey, if this was up ta me we’d be flyin’ ta Baltimore and be there in six hours, but no. You wanna drive cross-country fer ‘fun.’ So it’s gonna be fuckin’ fun, goddammit.”
“I’m just trying to make up for our last cross-country drive.”
D had sobered. “Yeah. Wasn’t so fun.”
“Well, we made that drive knowing at the end we’d be separated. This time we’re doing it knowing at the end we’ll be together,” Jack said, smiling.
Which was how Jack now found himself in this last shot of a movie, driving off with the setting sun at his back. D was slumped down in the passenger seat, his crossed ankles propped up by the rearview mirror, making his long legs look like they stretched for miles. His head was resting near Jack’s arm, and every so often he’d lean against him in a way that might have been accidental. What swelled Jack’s heart was that he seemed relaxed. Peaceful. At last.
The past two months had flown by so swiftly it made Jack’s head spin. He hadn’t been prepared to come back from the gym and find D standing on the lawn of his apartment complex. For all the time he’d spent waiting for him, missing him and anticipating his return, when it had finally happened it had been so unexpected that it took him completely off guard. For a moment, he really thought he was seeing things, but then he was in D’s arms again and knew it was real.
They’d staggered up to Jack’s apartment and hadn’t come out for two days. Frantic and nearly beside themselves, the first time they’d tried to make love it hadn’t worked out at all. They were too impatient, too eager, and D had mounted Jack too fast, and it had hurt. Jack had cried out and pushed him away, and D had pulled back, losing his arousal, apologizing all over himself. Jack had tried to reassure him but he’d seemed suddenly lost, and to Jack’s shock he’d burst into tears. Tears he’d been storing up for ten years, Jack suspected.
So he’d spent his first night back with D just holding him until they’d both fallen asleep.
He’d woken the next morning to find D propped up on one elbow, watching him, smiling a little. “How do you feel?” Jack had asked.
“Like a new man.”
“You are a new man, Anson.” And they’d reached for each other and then, just bliss. A whole day and night’s worth until they’d been forced out of the bedroom in search of food.
And then, chaos.
First, the phone calls. Jack had put in his notice at Borders. “Just tell ’em ya quit and you ain’t showin’ up no more,” D had groused.
“I can’t do that. I have to give work my notice. Do you know how much of a bind it’ll put them in if I just stop showing up?”
“That ain’t your problem.”
“Hey, I like that job! I’m not going to leave them in the lurch if I don’t have to! I don’t have to, do I?” D had to admit that no, there was no rush, so Jack had worked his two weeks. This did allow him the pleasure of dragging D to the bar so he could introduce him to Gloria and his other co-workers, unable to keep the proud smile from his face as he took D around, saying, “This is my partner, Anson” and watching D fumble his way through handshakes and small talk and all the questions everyone had.
Then, there had been the phone call he’d been dreading, to Churchill to tell him that he didn’t require Witsec’s services anymore. Churchill hadn’t said much about it. Jack suspected that he knew at least part of the truth, and when Jack told him that he was no longer in danger from the brothers, Churchill seemed to buy it with a minimum of protestation.
After which followed the endless paperwork of reclaiming his own identity, not to mention procuring one for D. Megan knew some people and pulled a few strings and got D issued a new birth certificate and a new Social Security number. So he was Anson Dane again. “But isn’t Anson Dane supposed to be dead?” Jack asked.
“No law sayin’ there cain’t be more’n one Anson Dane,” D had said, examining his brand-new driver’s license. “So yeah, he dead, but I ain’t. I got a different SSN, different place a birth, Megan even made me a year younger. Far’s any authorities are concerned, I ain’t the same Anson Dane that was in the Army and died in that car crash.”
Both of them back on the grid, Jack had called Johns Hopkins to ask if they could use a maxillofacial reconstructive surgeon. They’d invited him back at once. Then it had been about if he really wanted to go back to Baltimore. Long conversations ensued.
“But what about you?” Jack asked D, curled up with him in bed. “It’s not like you can get a job at Ace Hardware.”
“Why not? Sounds good ta me.”
“Be serious.”
“I got plans. But they ain’t dependent on me bein’ anywhere particular. I go where you go, Jack.”
Jack had sighed. “Where do I want to go?”
“I dunno. You tell me. You wanna stay here?”
“No.”
“Back ta Baltimore?”
“No,” Jack said, abruptly. He blinked, feeling D’s surprise.
“Ya don’t?”
Jack turned over in his arms and met his eyes. “No. I mean, we have to go back for a little while. I’ve got things in storage there. But….” He thought for a moment. “I think I want to go home.”
“Home? Where’s that?”
“The only time in my life I ever felt really comfortable, really at home, was when I was in med school. I think….” Jack imagined himself back there, in that city, and it felt right. “Yeah, I think I want to go back there.”
D chuckled. “You wanna move to Ohio?”
“What’s wrong with Ohio?”
“Nothin’. Jus’ never heard nobody say they wanted ta move there.”
“Anyway, it isn’t Ohio, it’s Columbus. It’s just… different.”
“If you say so.”
“But we still have to go to Baltimore first.”
“Sure ’nough. Get plane tickets tomorrow.”
“No, let’s drive.”
“Aw, shit, Jack. That’ll take a week.”
“I know. That’s the idea.” He leaned in and began kissing D’s neck. “C’mon,” he purred. “Been so hectic since you came back. Be nice to have a week just to ourselves, don’t you think? Take our time… stay in swank hotels… no rush, nothing to do, nobody chasing us….”
D was growling low in his chest as Jack’s hands moved over him. “Sounds good ta me,” he said, closing the topic and Jack’s mouth with his own.
Which was how they’d ended up here, on their third day on the road, in the middle of Colorado. They were heading for the infamous Stanley Hotel. “It’s the hotel from The Shining,” Jack had said, pointing out the location on the detailed trip plan he was making on the computer.
“There gonna be creepy ghost kids? I ain’t down with that shit.”
He looked up at D, grinning. “Don’t tell me big, tough Anson Dane is afraid of a few ghosts.”
“I’m afraid of anythin’ that don’t go down with a bullet, doc.”
Jack couldn’t let an opening like that go by. “Oh yeah?” he said, grabbing D’s hand and bringing it between his legs. “What about this?”
He smiled to himself at the memory of what had followed. Not that he lacked other reasons to smile at the moment. They were driving east on Highway 34 through Rocky Mountain National Park on their way to Estes Park, their stopover location this night, and it was so beautiful that it was hard to concentrate on the road at times. He heard Anson sigh, then his hand slid from his own lap over to Jack’s knee. He reached down and laced his fingers through D’s. “Fuckin’ amazin’,” D said, the first time either of them had spoken for hours.
“I know.”
“How far to the hotel?”
“Estes Park is on the far side. Couple hours, depending on the traffic through the park.”
“Maybe we’ll see a bear.”
“I want to see a moose.”