Delayed

by Nathan Kingsly

  He surveys the scene inside the car with a critical eye, and I know nothing has passed his inspection. “Do we need to take another ride downtown?”

  “As in again?” Emma asks before I can respond.

  “Do you know the kind of man you’re involved with ma’am?”

  “I thought so.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I say.

  “Mmhhmmm.” She sasses. That sound, damn it, this is not the time to encourage my dick of its fantasies.

  “My sister called on me. Let’s just say she wasn’t happy to see me come home, at first.”

  “Seems like you left out a few things.” Her hands come to sit on either side of her hips.

  “Ma’am, please vacate that position and get back into your seat. He’s not going to take you seriously otherwise. Neither will I.” He says the latter under his breath as he adjusts his belt.

  I tamp down the urge to tell him to ‘butt out’, because he does have the ability to charge us with public indecency and public exposure. She starts to move, and I lend a hand to help her. It doesn’t pass my notice that she is very cautious, and when she’s seated, she takes her bag and places it over the gun wedged there. Noted, she is not comfortable around guns.

  “Officer Robertt, right?” Emma asks. When he nods, she goes on. “I’m sorry for your needing to stop, but we can all agree that we need to take this reunion somewhere private. Can you recommend a hotel?”

  He seems to mull it over, lips pursed, hand rubbing the stubble left on his chin, and then his eyes narrow, letting his hand drop to point in the car at us. “If I catch you both pulling this type of shenanigans again, it’s the back of my car and a night in the county lock-up.” He scrutinizes me, his hand dropping to grip the door frame. “You can tell her a thing or two to expect.” Then he stands, and I don’t want to say he struts, but there’s no other word for what he does back to his car.

  Before I put the car into drive, I slide my hand in between the seats and put the gun back in its place.

  “What are you doing with a gun?” She asks. She peers in the mirror at Robertt in the car behind us. “You could have been in serious trouble.”

  “He knows about it.” I jerk my head in his direction. “Spent a few hours in the back of his car handcuffed. He had to check my conceal carry license.”

  “Oh,” she breathes. “But that still doesn’t explain why you have it in your car.”

  “I take it everywhere.”

  “Everywhere?”

  I nod. “Ever since my dad.”

  She bites her lip, her brow furrows, and she pushes a strand of her hair back, “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  I put the car into drive. “Want to go to my place?” I offer.

  She shakes her head. “I need to stay closer to the airport. You can drop me off at a hotel.”

  I give her a quick glance. “You want to be alone?”

  “Oh, no, sorry.” She shakes her head. “I mean us unless you don’t want to. Either way, that,” she points at the glove box, "is staying here."

  “Fine, because I want to finish what we started.” The next time I glance at her, we are both smiling.

  When I come back from checking the room, my brows lift up to my hairline. How in the hell had I missed seeing him or feeling him behind us?

  “Brian? What are you doing here?” His hands in his coat, but in this weather, he didn't need one.

  His mouth twists. “Get inside the room, and this time take your girl.”

  Gripping Emma’s hand, I jerk her into the room and behind me. She spins; she's so graceful, though her expression gives her unease away. Trying to give her a reassuring smile, she smiles back, although a bit unstable, and she lets my hand go. I peer through the crack in the door again as I look back at Brian. “That doesn’t explain why you are here? Shouldn’t you be back in Cali by now?”

  “I never pinned you for the slow type.” His right hand comes out of the jacket, and as soon as I see the familiar shape of a gun, I’m closing the door and bolting it. In the next instant, I’m turning to grab Emma to get out of the line of fire, but she’s no longer standing behind me.

  Stumbling mid-stride, my eyes widen when I see him standing in the center of the hotel room. Ger.

  Prison has not been kind to him. If the jagged scar over his eyebrow and the one puckering at his throat isn’t a giveaway, his gaze did. They are still that bland color of brown, the same ones that peer out of my nightmares, but there's something distinctly different about them now. They hold knowledge and experience I could only ponder, and hardened into fine points of observation.

  My hands curl instinctively in remembrance of the moments his blood clung to my knuckles. However, then he didn’t have the look he wears now, calm, concentrated, and took down every detail with a thousand yard stare.

  He’s had time to fine-tune his art, and I’ve had time to do the same. However, I'm sure of my chances against him. No matter the years I prepared to face this standoff, it all came down to applying it to action.

  “Hello, Liam.” His victorious smile is as subtle as a shark’s before it indulges in lunch.

  He has one hand wrapped around Emma’s mouth, so big they cover almost her entire face, and the other holds a gun directly to her side.

  My skin feels too tight to have so much rage inside. A firecracker lit and allowed to ricochet, pinging off everything, making it hard to breathe. His filthy hands on her make me see red. Yet, I know if I let on to my true feelings, he will pull that trigger. I will not allow this to happen to me twice. My hands come up in a show of surrender.

  Ger laughs. “You think that will help you?”

  I grit my teeth when I see him push the barrel into her side even harder. She jerks, and the sound of distress demands I make him pay for hurting her. My options, however, are limited. My hands draw back to my sides.

  “This is between you and me, Ger. Let the girl go.” Trusting Ger with Emma’s life isn't something I would bet on. He’d kill her for no other reason than to hurt me.

  “Doesn’t that hurt your feelings, Emma?” His mouth forms around her name as if familiar, far too familiar. My teeth grind against each other. “Are you just some girl?”

  “Back off,” I growl.

  He leans in and stage-whispers into her hair. She tries to twist from him. My jaw aches with how hard I am clenching it. “He’s starting to get the picture.” His brown eyes shift to me, a sick gleam making them spark in the low light. I ball my fists and take a step closer.

  When he catches my movement, he straightens, bringing the pistol into Emma’s hairline. She whimpers, and the firecracker dies out as my heart freezes in my chest. The anger is there, but now, not the most important emotion saturating my veins. Fear, so consuming it would be easy to drown in it.

  “Let my friend in, or I’ll take my frustration out on your girl here.”

  Emma’s eyes are large on her beautiful face.

  “How did you get in here?” I hiss.

  He lifts his gun only to crash it into Emma’s face not a second later. Her cry of pain will never leave my ears for the rest of my life. She curls away, but he grabs her by the middle. She’s cradling her face that is now shadowed by her hair. My feet bring me a step closer to her. Ger twists us farther apart with his body and the gun in my face.

  “Don’t make me tell you a second time. Open the door Liam, or I’ll give her a matching bruise.”

  “Alright, please don’t hurt her.” It’s painfully clear that it’s a plea, and the smile that twists his lips claims the victory. He knows how desperate I’m becoming.

  Walking backward, I only turn my body enough to unlock the door and swing it open. Brian leans against the wall next to the door, as if simply locked out of his room and waiting for someone to let him in. He's grinning before he even moves his head to look my way. He slithers in beside me, bumps my shoulder on the way in, catching me off balance. The scent wafting off his jacket smells of brandy and sm
oke.

  How could this be happening? My only friend, at least who I thought had been my friend, teaming up with my enemy.

  I watch with an odd sense of surrealism as he takes in the room and takes a seat on the bed as if he owns this fucking hotel. He could. I’m no longer sure of anything. Legs spread, one hand behind him holding him up, the other holding the gun out for show on his thigh. He chuckles as he looks between Ger and Emma. “I see you’ve started the party without me?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I interrupt before Ger can answer Brian. “Why are you helping him? I thought you were my friend.” This almost feels like a bad dream. Ger, I can explain, but Brian? Why would he have a reason to want to hurt me?

  Brian looks over, his brows raised as he shakes his head. “Your friend? Are you serious? You by the narrowest of margins tolerated me as your neighbor.” He sits up straighter, both hands now in front of him. “Three years, the only show of friendship you showed me was to hold onto your key. Don’t get me wrong, you made it a piece of cake to keep an eye on you.”

  “You've been spying …"

  "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, and all that." He waves the hand with the gun in a circle before letting it fall limp again.

  "Enemies? What had I ever done to deserve this?"

  Brian opens his mouth, but it's Ger that speaks. “Meet the serial rapist that lived next door and my cellmate for a year and a half before being released.”

  Emma jerks in Ger’s arms away from Brian, and they both laugh as her startled eyes meet mine. A bruise coloring her cheekbone. The hard edge of the gun split the skin, blood-smeared where her hand had been.

  My hands tighten. I got her into this mess. I allowed her to be a victim. I should have convinced her to come home with me, having her in my own bed, safe, and away from my father's murderer and my friend, the serial rapist.

  Her beautiful, once innocent eyes, boar into mine with terrified desperation. She's asking me all the questions one would want answers to in this situation, and I don't have them. Not with two armed psychotic men, and not where both of us get out of this alive. If it comes to it, if there's an opening, I'll make sure it's her that gets out.

  Brian speaks again, breaking our silent conversation. “Hi, nice to meet you.” His smile shows teeth. Just like any predator ready to pounce. “You would have known this if you’d taken me up on trolling for women after work.” He shrugs and says this casually as if I could have stopped him, and it was my fault that I didn’t. Maybe it is.

  “How are you out of prison?” I bite back instead.

  “They could only make two counts stick.” He shrugs again with that toothy smile.

  It makes my skin crawl with how blasé he states his crime. I swear I see the excitement of how singular the criminal system can be when convicting a criminal by his smile. Victims can get lost in the wheel treads of justice.

  "Right then, now that we're all introduced," Ger says, right before he flings Emma out of his grasp.

  Lurching forward, I attempt to grab her before Brian can. My fingers graze her arm before a fist punches into my back, dropping me to the floor. Getting up to my hands and knees, the cool steel of the barrel smacks me in the temple, flipping me onto my back. Ger laughs at his cheap shot. Grunting, I attempt to pick myself off the floor; my head pounds, with the ache of the blow and the screaming pleas of Emma.

  She’s calling my name, but my eyes are blurry, and I can’t make her out. I grapple for purchase as I jerk forward toward her, and the figure I know must be Brian on the bed with her. My heart is beating its way out of my chest as I grip the edge of the bedspread and attempt to pull myself up.

  Ger’s laughing somewhere beside me, speaking to me about how revenge is sweet, watching me on my hands and knees, but for once, he is the least of my problems. Emma, she’s the only thing that matters.

  Another bash comes down on my head; this time, a burst of colors lights my vision before it slips into black. Dizzy, I lose purchase on the bed. I dig my fingers into the fibers of the rug, determined to stay upright. Squeezing my eyes shut to focus, I know I am close to the edge. Like a catapult, I move in the direction of where the bed is located, and relief hits as it cushions my upper body.

  Everything is so hazy as if looking through a pinprick. Sweat drenches me as I force myself not to pass out. My hand grabs hold of the nearest shape. It’s Brian’s leg. I know it’s his because even blinded, I know what Emma feels like under my hand. My grip tightens, and I pull with what strength I have left. He grunts, and I can see his body twisting. Squinting, I try to focus. It helps but not enough to see his other foot coming towards my face until it’s too late. I grunt as the force of it lands me on my back. I’m stunned, all I can see is white, and I realize it’s the ceiling.

  “NO! STOP! GET OFF ME!” Emma’s screams come back to my ears like bullets. Shaking my head, I clear it as best I can before I sit up. The world spins. Twisting, I throw up the lunch we had before we got to this hell. Wiping the spittle off my chin, I get on all fours, not trusting my legs, and move again.

  Just as I reach for the bed, I’m jerked back, with an arm across my throat, bringing me to my knees—the cold of the gun against my pounding temple. The pain of it sharp; it helps clear part of the haze even though I can feel the beating of my heart in all the places I ache. My hands come up to rip Ger off of me, my stomach roiling from touching him at all, but his words are in my ear, co-mingling with his evil cackle as each is spoken.

  “Oh, she’s a fighter. She’ll give him a run for his prize.”

  “It’s not his to win,” I spit, fighting for air around his grip.

  “It took you forever to find her again, and it’s been sweet to know that I would steal your second chance from you. She will never forgive you; she’ll resent you even six feet under.” He laughs, his breath a spicy peppermint in my nose.

  “HELP ME!” Her pleas take the rest of the air out of my lungs. I deserve to die here and now for what I’ve allowed to happen. I’m a fucking idiot. If we, by some miracle, make it out of this alive, I will never leave her side again. Not even to check a room.

  Brian’s got her shirt up around her neck, her yoga pants in his meaty grip. Tears stream down her cheeks from closed, tight eyes. She's kicking out, and pushing at his hands as best she can.

  Hurling my forearm into Ger’s groin, then my elbow into his stomach, there’s a whoosh of air that comes from him, and his grip loosens. Breaking free, I stagger towards the bed and pitch myself towards Brian. We crash against the wall and hit the floor rolling and grappling for purchase. His first hit is to my jaw, and I get a good one when I hear his nose crack under my fist. He gets another good one in on my eye before I get him on his back. My hands go around his neck, his face reddening with every second that ticks by. My hands bleed from scratches before he brings a hand up to push my face away.

  With my face forced up, I see that the idiot left the gun on the side table. Unwrapping my fingers from his neck, I bash him in the face with a fist, leaving him dazed enough to reach up and grab the gun. He’s still shaking his head to clear it when I press it to his forehead.

  For an instant, it’s his gaze that catches and holds me there. He had been my friend. The only person I confided in at all for the years I’d known him. We’d eaten pizza, watched football, and even exchanged a few stories after one too many beers.

  His mouth twists into a smile, "I knew you were weak." His hand reaches for the gun, and I know if he gets it from me, Emma will never make it out alive.

  I pull the trigger.

  The familiar acrid bite assaults my nostrils, my body accustomed to the shock as it’s done countless times at the shooting range, but this isn’t a paper target. His expression bleeds from his face as it relaxes in death.

  My ears are still clearing from the shot, but I can hear Emma whimper off to my right. Stupidly, I expect her to still be on the bed, but I find Ger has used the scuffle to his advantage.

>   She’s in his arms again, covered, but the gun directed at her head, and him scowling deep, the lines of his years carved in his face. “Drop the fucking gun, Liam.”

  I work to get to my feet. The sound of the hammer of a gun clicks in my ears before the shot goes off. Gasping, I hit the wall behind me and slid down it. My free hand goes to my shoulder, and I look up to see the gun back at Emma’s temple. “I said drop the gun. My next shot will be much deadlier and through Emma’s head.”

  “Give me a Goddamn second.” Letting go of my shoulder, I grab the gun in my usable hand and slide it across the floor away from me, now painted red. My head thuds against the wall as I look up at them again, my breaths heavy as I work to compartmentalize the pain. My stomach roils as the metallic smell of copper reminds me that my legs are tangled with those of a dead man.

  I have to stay conscious. I need to find a way out for Emma. Her eyes are so big on her face, the bruise and the blood darker than they were even a few minutes ago—Ger’s arm white, where she is digging into it.

  Ger is no longer looking at me, instead, at what he can see of Brian, which isn’t much I wager from his position in the middle of the room. His scowl grows deeper by the second.

  “So, what now, Ger? Don’t you think you’ve ruined enough lives today? Let her go, kill me if you want, but she's done nothing to you.” I’m not sure what I’m thinking. Emma shakes her head, her eyes growing larger if possible, but I ignore it. Provoking him isn’t one of my brighter ideas, but I am now down to the wire, as they say. I can only hope he will settle for taking me down, and I can bargain for Emma’s way to freedom.

  When his eyes focus back on me, they are with a hatred that I share for him. “I’ve only begun ruining your life. You’re the reason I was locked up, treated like a criminal for taking back what was mine.”

  “Yours?” I started to laugh, but it’s cut short by pain. Fire explodes in my head, then down into my whole left side. I couldn’t have guessed that such a small entry would cause so much pain. “My mother was never yours.”