by Colt, Shyla
“Sounds good.” I shuffle back into the house.
What am I going to do if Ira is gone? Where will I stay? I’ve let the genie out of the box. Whoever wants me dead won’t stop.
Stress weighs down on me like an anvil. Pressure builds behind my forehead. I have to stop or I’m going to come down with a mother of all migraines. I feel better today, but I’m still shaky from the accident. I want to believe it wasn’t ordered by my aunt, but benefit of the doubt is a luxury I can’t afford. I return to the room and dig in the dresser, wondering who left the clothes behind. Everything is tiny. I hold up a pair of cutoff jeans and a T-shirt that has the words Wesson Rebels written across it. Not bad alone, but it’d been hacked to hell and back. I must be getting old cause I’m very out of touch with the trends. Despite my disdain, the clothes smell fresh and are a hell of a lot better than the shirt I have on. I don’t have the nerve to ask Prophet how I came to be dressed in it. The less we say about the other day, the better. It’s put me in a position of uncertainty I don’t like.
I can’t depend on him. Once this is over, he’ll go his way and I’ll go mine.
I’m trying to wrap my head around the concept of being alone and hunted. It scares me spitless. My mouth dries out and a lump forms in my throat. Images of Uncle Lorenzo blossom in my head. I can feel his dry lips on my forehead once more. I rush to the bathroom, eager to wash away the negativity clinging to my psyche.
After stripping down, I wash out my underwear in the sink, then step in the shower, grateful for the decent water pressure and heat. I close my eyes as the water beats down over my head. In a matter of days, life as I knew it was over. When I go home, will there be anything left? Images of a burned out shell where the farmhouse once stood haunts me. Everything we had been…all that was left of our family. If that goes? The tears rush forward and I let them come. Here, away from prying eyes, I can break down. My shoulders heave, aggravating the sensitized muscles. The pain is nothing in comparison to that of my heart.
I tried to do right by you, Ira. I promise you. If nothing else, you will be avenged.
The thought gives me a goal to focus on, and I cling to it. Right now, it’s kill or be killed, me or them, and it’s not going to be me. I didn’t survive an attempted assassination, only to lay down and offer my head up for the guillotine.
Gritting my teeth, I grab the body wash hanging on the rack and lather myself with an ocean scent meant for men. As I always have, I will survive this and make do with the things available to me.
I emerge from my room, feeling half-dressed and famished. The smell of spices fill the air. I enter the kitchen and watch as he whips up a simple sauce. I’m impressed. He’s a man of hidden talents. He hides behind that laid back, easygoing vibe Cora told me so much about. She must’ve spotted the interest in my eyes that day he spoke to me, because she’d talked him up ever since.
As if sensing my presence, he turns around. “Hey. It’s not much, just pasta with white sauce.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“Let’s hope it tastes that way, too. Have a seat. I’ll serve this time. I figure, depending on how long we’re here, we can take turns.” He looks at me for my response.
“Sounds fair.” It’s impossible to hide from his eyes like this. Eye contact is a natural part of communication for me and all other deaf people; it conveys so much. I take a seat at the bar and he finishes off the meal. We eat in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. After everything, I think quiet is what we need most. Full, I push away my bowl and sigh.
“Good?”
“Very.” I pause. “Thank you…for everything.”
His eyes widen. “You’re welcome.”
What once felt like an intense dislike begins to shift. All we have now is each other. There’s no room for discord or petty bickering. I’m not even sure why we were fighting so much before. It all seems so stupid and unimportant. Because when it came down to it, this man was there for me. I’ll never forget that. He has my loyalty for life, whether he wanted it or not. “You cooked, I’ll clean,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
I nod my head.
“All right. I need to check in with Dallas anyway.” He hesitates.
I wave him off and gather the dishes. He steps out onto the porch and I lose myself in the rhythm of performing a familiar task. My mind goes blessedly blank. I tidy up our area. The phone rings and I jump as the tone slices through the silence that’s fallen in the cabin.
The front door bursts open, and Prophet jogs across the room to snatch up the phone. “Hello?” He pauses and listens. “Holy shit! You son of a bitch, you actually made it!”
I close my eyes and grab the counter. My legs are limp and shaky like wet noodles.
It is Ira.
“Yeah, she’s here, she’s safe. No, they came after us. Your aunt’s men. He knows then? Okay, yeah. Here, I’m sure she’d like to hear your voice.” Prophet walks over and hands me the phone.
I take it gingerly.
“Hey, Sis, miss me?”
I snort. He sounds so weary—but he’s alive.
“Giancarlo’s men got me out. We’re covering our tracks and coming your way.” His voice wavers. “I want you to stay where you are until I call you and tell you differently.”
I frown and shake my head.
“Listen, don’t fight me on this. I can’t focus if I know you’re at risk. Right now, you’re hidden and you’re protected. You have a man there I know and trust. I’m asking you to please do this for me?”
I swallow my pride. I can do this much for him.
Prophet leans in and answers for me, “She says yes.”
His sigh of relief reassures me I’ve done the right thing.
“Thank you. Let me talk to Prophet.” His tone turns all business.
I hand the phone over and walk out onto the front porch, still reeling. The sun is shining brighter and the sky is the bluest I’ve ever seen. We have a long road ahead of us, but we’re both here, still standing despite everything thrown our way. Giancarlo has put his hat in the ring with us. It’s the best we could’ve hoped for. Despite how long it may take him to win, he has more power than Lorenzo could ever dream of having. It’s only a matter of time. The real concern is how much blood would be shed before the white flag of surrender was waved. Lorenzo would have to be taken out, but his lackeys…that was up for debate.
I lean against the railing and allow myself to truly relax for the first time since I learned Ira was missing. He was cognate enough to speak with me and among friends. It’s more than I dared hope. Perhaps we will make it out of this alive and better off without the danger of discovery looming over us, like a shadow waiting to engulf us the minute we get comfortable.
And then what? If I do survive this, how will I change things?
Going back to that cloistered life of a nun locked away in a farmhouse is no longer possible. That women is gone. She died the minute I slipped behind the wheel and drove to the Wesson clubhouse. I tilt my head up to the sun. This is a new beginning, a chance to figure out who I want to be, and I should take it with both hands and run. I dangle my arms over the railing and allow myself to simply breathe. The answers would come. The most important gift I’d been given now was time.
Prophet/Charles
“Level with me, man. How bad off are you?”
“Halfway to dead, but hellbent on making these bastards pay. They’re not going to get away with what they’ve done to me or tried to do to Vita. Payback has been a long time coming. I’m the repo man, ready to collect with interest.”
The dead calm in his voice sends chills up my spine. Houdini is scary like that. Given what I know about him now, I understand why. “You talk to Dallas?”
“He’s backing my play. He wants me to handle this my way. The club keeps their hands clean and I make sure there’s nothing left to haunt me.” He sounds weak, but determined. “You take care of my sister for me.”
“Of course,
man.”
“I mean even if I don’t come back. Will you,” his voice cracks, “make sure she’s okay?”
I freeze. “Look, I don’t know if she’d appreciate this conversation right now.”
“I don’t give a shit what she wants. I know what she needs. She can’t be out there on her own. I sheltered her too much. It’d be setting her up for failure. You’ve proven you can take care of her in the direst of situations. It has to be you. I’m asking you as your brother. Will you do this for me?”
I glance up at the rafters, curse my luck, and say the only thing I can, “Yeah, man, you know I will.”
“Thank you. Can do what I need to now.”
“You sound like you don’t plan on coming back.”
“We both know there are causalities in a war. I need to be prepared for every possible outcome.”
“That means leaving your sister in the hands of a man you hardly know.”
“I know enough. You’re good people. Strong, smart, on the silent side, but capable of doing whatever needs to be done. I’ve watched you, all of you. I know the measure of each man in Wesson. You’re the one I’m choosing to trust my sister with.” Coughs crackle over the line.
My chest aches in sympathy. The man isn’t well. “Don’t worry about it, Houdini. I got her covered.”
“All right, man, I’ll be in touch,” he replies hoarsely.
We hang up and I swear… I’ve gone and done it. Now I’m linked to her until I pass the torch back to her brother.
Like I would’ve trusted her safety to anyone else.
Somewhere between the car crash and the concussion, I’d accepted her as my responsibility. Seeing her like this— open and vulnerable— made it impossible to compare her to Jewel. She was little more than a kid trying to find her way through a storm.
I place my phone in my pocket and walk outside.
The expression on her face can only be described as dreamy. The sun caresses her chocolate brown hair. Her freckles stand out on the bridge of her nose.
“You doing okay?” I ask.
She turns to me and shrugs.
“It’s a lot to take in, huh?”
She sighs and signs, “I’m not sure how I feel about everything. I know Ira is alive, but for how long? Will this war be short and over, before the streets run red with blood, or will the fear drive them to remain behind my uncle and fight to the bitter end? This relief I feel concerning Ira is temporary. He’s going right back into the fray. They don’t even know who is friend and foe. We’ve placed our trust in Giancarlo. What if that was wrong?”
“What if it’s not?” I challenge. “Could you have done anything else?”
Her brow furrows and her eyes go unfocused. After a time, she answers, “No.”
“Then let it go. You’ll drive yourself insane with what ifs.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.” I wait for her to ask more questions.
“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” she says, changing the topic so abruptly I blink. “What are we going to do to entertain ourselves?”
“I did some exploring. There are cards, a few board games, and some fishing poles if you’re game. I’m guessing a lake must be nearby. Do you do the fishing thing?”
“I never have. But I’m not opposed.”
I give her a look of disbelief.
“I told you, I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”
I’m reminded of the way she dispatched our pursuers with steady hands and bravery. “Then let’s do it.” I guide her back into the cabin.
She gives me a tiny smile. She’s different now, softer and more open. It’s tempting.
If only I had met her in another time and another place.
I follow her inside. Here, at least I can explore what could’ve been. I pull out the fishing pools from the closet and hand her the small tacklebox.
Her eyes sparkle.
She’s really is excited about this.
It was sweet. “You actually want to do this, don’t you?” The duh expression she shoots my way makes me laugh. “All right, come on, angler in training. Let’s get you on the water.”
We head out and I follow the well-worn trail that leads away from the cabin. Winding our way down the mountain we end up at a steadily flowing river.
Rays dance over the water. The surface shimmers and the cool breeze feels good on my skin. I can’t remember the last time I did anything so relaxing, or healthy. Since the attack on the clubhouse where I almost lost my life, I’ve been on a drinking and screwing binge. This is my detox. I inhale the clean air and close my eyes, basking in the moment. The world may be burning down around us, but in this place, we’re okay. “I don’t know what we have in there, but I always prefer live bait.” After resting my pole on the grassy bank, I scan the area. I spot a thick stick.
“Where are we going to get live bait?”
“The ground.” Grabbing the stick, I hunch down and begin to dig. I come across a nice cluster of worms and hold one up to the air. “Looks like we’re in business.” I watch as she kicks off her shoes and curls her toes in the grass. The gesture makes me smile. She reminds me of Emily. Buried inside of her battered shell is a free spirit. “Bring me your pole.”
She walks over.
I hook the worm and stand. “I’m going to show you how to cast, and once you’re in the water, I’ll get myself set up. Here, walk a bit closer to the water.” I stand behind her, wrap my arm around her waist, and cover my hand on hers on the pole. “Press the button in, bring your arm back, toss it and release.” I walk her through a few casts. “We’re going to do it on three. One, two, three…” We let go and the line sails through the air, landing in the middle of the river. “Perfect. Now, let it sit for a bit and slowly reel it in.” I watch her for a few moments. “You got it. If you get a bite, pull up.” I gesture a hooking motion. I move over to my pole and cast.
We pass the time peacefully co-existing; a new experience for the two of us. It’s funny, I have a hard time remembering exactly why we were at each other’s throat, now that she’s set aside the Lorello persona.
Which is the real her?
I hear a commotion and turn to see her dancing a jig as she tugs at her pole.
“You got one on?” I hurry over and assess the situation. “Plant your feet and reel it in.” I wrap my arms around her and help her tug the rod toward us. Whatever she has on the line is pretty big. “You got a big one.” I take her noises as those of excitement. Her round ass presses into my groin as we bring in the fish. My cock stirs. I will my blood to circulate elsewhere in my body and pray she’s too caught up in the moment to notice. She smell’s sweet and pure. It’s an intoxicating aroma.
We continue to bring it in. I catch a glimpse of the multi-colored ten pounder. “Looks like we have a sunfish. And he’s a fat one.” The sunfish gives up the battle and I step back, allowing her to cross the finish line on her own.
She proudly holds up the flopping fish.
I laugh. “You want to catch and release, or eat him?”
She wrinkles her nose up in reply.
I laugh some more. “All right, let me get him off the hook.”
The rest of the day passes much the same. We get into a rhythm. The fish are biting, the weather is perfect, and I’m having more fun than I ever thought possible with her. As we gather our things to leave…she tells me thank you and I feel a flicker of feelings I haven’t experienced in a long time. It’s scary as hell.
I need to be careful around this one.
Houdini/Ira
I hold my side and limp my way into the bathroom. Every step hurts, despite the meds I have running through me. I refuse to take narcotics, so all the doc did was take the edge off. I need to keep my wits about me. I don’t trust Giancarlo completely. This could be a well-constructed plan to take me out.
Though, I doubt it. He could’ve taken me out and been done with it.
&nb
sp; I lean heavily against the wall as I pee. My ribs are fractured. I have a hole through my bones that aches like a bitch, and I’m weak as a newborn. They gave me just enough water and food to keep me from dying before they got what they wanted.
I can only assume it was Vita, or maybe we were waiting for Lorenzo to arrive. There’s no way my uncle would’ve let him finish me off without showing his face. I growl. I wish the bastard had been there. Then it could’ve been his brains splattered all over that basement.
I finish up and move to the mirror. It’s the first chance I’ve had to study my face. I wince. I don’t know the man looking back at me. I’m swollen and discolored like a bloated body. My lips are three times their normal size and busted open in three different places.
The scabs make me look like I have herpes.
I’ve been cut from my neck down, my fingernails are caked with blood from where they slid the tips of their blades under my nails. My voice feels permanently hoarse from the screaming. There’s no such thing as stoic when someone is drilling through your bone and trying to take off your fingernails. But I didn’t crack. That’s all that really matters. There were a few times when they placed the plastic bag over my head until I lost consciousness that I wanted to.
When Giancarlo’s men burst through the door and sprayed my capturers’ brains all over the basement, I thought I’d be next.
But I wasn’t.
The only thing in my mind now is revenge. I’m not going to rest until I see the light go out behind my uncle’s eyes. Then it’ll finally be over. Giancarlo can do what he wants with the rest of the lot. Lorenzo is mine to take down. The culling has begun while all his most loyal are meeting their end and the questionable people have been rounded up. Lorenzo is still nowhere to be seen. I’m not surprised. He’s a slippery snake. Yet no one can hide forever, and there will be no aid coming to his rescue.
It’s a matter of time.
Chapter Seven
Vita/Elisa
The days are starting to blur and the weather is warming up. We keep the windows open and the fans going, but it’s still all we can do to keep cool. I understand now why all of the clothing left behind is miniscule. My hair is pinned up on top of my head and I’m trying to concentrate on a word search while I stay in the direct line of the breeze coming in through the window. I hear Prophet coming down the hall. Eager for a distraction, I look up and my heart races.