by Ty Marshall
“What the fuck?” Bree said when he turned around and saw her emerge from the bathroom.
“You hate it, right?” she asked. “I know. I just needed a new look, these motherfuckas are on our ass and—”
China was set to go on a long rant, but Bree just smiled at her before interrupting her. “I think it looks good, you look sexy.” Bree took her in for a minute, wishing he could throw her onto the bed and make love to her right there, but they had to go. China saw the lust in his eyes and smiled at him. She loved Bree, and she hated what they were going through. But she was glad that if she had to endure this, she was with him. She knew she had to be on point, both of their lives depended it. Two brains were always better than one. She needed to be an asset to Bree, and those were her intentions from here on out.
* * *
Bree knew Vegas like the back of his hand, so it didn’t take long for him to locate a shady pawnshop just off the strip. It was the dirty and seedy kind, the ones most visitors stayed away from when they came to town. Only the most desperate, down-on-their-luck people went there to auction off their souls for another hand at the poker tables. Bree and China were both trying to play the hand they had been dealt, so they fit both categories. The place was just what they needed, nondescript and with no paper trail. Bree knew the owner wouldn’t ask a lot of questions about where the merchandise came from. With the cops now after them, the less questions the better.
Bree pulled the door and held it open for China, then followed her inside, making his way to the counter. The place smelled like stale cigarettes, causing China to cover her mouth and nose briefly in disgust. The owner stood behind the counter, masked in a cloud of smoke. He wore his brown hair slicked back and an all-gray goatee. Both his hands and arms were covered in tattoos, and he sported a classic rock-and-roll band T-shirt. He had the sleazy look of a former rock band member who had spent too many nights on the road drinking and drugging.
Bree approached him and placed the few pieces of jewelry on the counter, the most expensive being a gold Rolex watch. “Hey, what’s going on? I’m trying to sell a few pieces of my jewelry,” Bree lied.
“Are they real?” the man asked off the rip, not looking to have his time wasted. He had seen his share of schemes and scams, and Bree and China fit the description.
“Of course they are.” Bree laughed off the insult.
“Must’ve been a rough night at the blackjack table, make a man wanna sell a fine piece of jewelry like this,” the owner, said examining the watch and then the pinky ring. “I don’t have a big market for people coming in here looking for this type of stuff, so I’d have a tough time reselling it. The best I can do is three hundred for the ring, twelve hundred for the watch.”
“What?” China blurted.
“Sorry, beautiful, that’s the best I can do,” the owner expressed.
“Nah, I think you can do a whole lot better,” Bree interjected. “The value of this watch alone demands a starting price at no less than thirty-five hundred, and when you throw in this ring, we looking at no less than five thousand dollars.”
The owner leaned back off the counter, stood up straight, and cracked a smile. Clearly, he had underestimated Bree. “I gotta give it to you, young man, you know your shit. Listen, how ’bout we meet somewhere in the middle and call it a deal, forty-five hundred?”
Bree was slightly irritated. He knew it wasn’t the best possible offer, but they were up against the clock. They didn’t have the luxury of running around town trying to find the right deal. They needed to get the cash and go. So reluctantly he agreed. “Deal.”
“Okay, give me a few minutes to get the bill of sale together,” the owner said, disappearing into the back.
The couple passed the time looking around at the different things in the glass display cases. They were amazed by some of the things people had pawned. Bree cracked jokes, and for the first time in a while China laughed, allowing herself a small bit of enjoyment. It was the closest thing to normal she had felt in days. Her heart fluttered as she found herself staring at Bree. She loved him, even if her actions didn’t always show it. She could never stay away from him. He made her feel like the most special women in the world. He tended to her every need, physically and emotionally. Bree was the pillar she leaned on, her rock. He put up with all her flaws and loved her through them all. In him she had what every woman dreamed about. A man who protected and adored her and would go to the ends of the earth for her.
“Hey,” the owner called out, grabbing their attention as he reentered the room. “I’ll just need your initials in a few places and we should be good to go,” he informed Bree, placing a piece of paper and a pen down on the counter.
Bree grabbed the pen and quickly scribbled random letters on the paper. “There you go.”
“Okay, there’s just one more thing I need,” the owner said, reaching under the counter.
“Bree!”
China’s voice squealed through the pawnshop, causing him to look up, but it was already too late. The owner had a gun aimed directly at Bree’s head.
“What the fuck is going on? You robbing me?” a confused Bree wondered aloud.
“I could give two shits about this jewelry. You two have been all over the news all day. I recognized you soon as you walked in. There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward for the person who turns you in.” He smirked.
“Oh, shit,” Bree muttered. “How ’bout I just give you the jewelry and you let us walk outta here?”
“How ’bout you shut the fuck up before I blow a hole in your in your face?” the owner threatened.
He used his free hand to reach for the phone, keeping one eye on them at all times. He dialed 911. “Hey, I got some information on the couple being talked about on the news. The ones from Arizona,” he said into the phone.
China couldn’t believe this was how it was going to end. It had all been for nothing. Robbing Cinco, escaping California, and destroying the relationship with her father had all been in vain as she stared down the barrel of a gun with an intense fear, the police surely on their way at any moment. She threw her hands in the sky and headed back in frustration.
“Hey, don’t you move! Don’t you fucking move!” the owner said, turning his attention and gun toward her.
That was the opening Bree needed. He reached for the gun in the man’s hands, and they began wrestling over the counter as the phone fell to the floor. They each had a strong hold on the gun, neither able to gain leverage or give himself the upper hand. China was frozen, unable to react or help. Bree tried unsuccessfully to reach to his waist with his free hand to grab his gun. His loosening his grip some gave the owner an opportunity to put both hands on the weapon, overpowering him and pushing him back while gaining full control of the gun. Bree finally was able to draw his weapon as he stumbled back.
BANG!
The shot echoed throughout the store. China screamed as the bullet hit Bree, sending him to the floor and his gun flying. China ran for cover as the owner walked from around the counter and towered over a wounded Bree. The bullet had hit him in his upper abdomen, sending a searing pain shooting through his stomach and ribs, as he realized he barely had the strength to move. The room began to carousel slowly as the blood soaked through his shirt, turning it crimson, and seeped through his fingers as he covered the wound with his hand. Blood gushed with every pump of his heart and pooled underneath him as he lay motionless.
Groaning as he lay leaking, Bree stared up at the owner standing over him, pointing his weapon like the Lord High Executioner ready to finish the job. “Fuck you, pussy,” Bree rebelliously grunted out.
That angered the owner more. He cocked his gun, condemning Bree, taking aim at his head, looking to deliver the coup de grâce.
BANG!
BANG! BANG!
The shots hit the owner in his chest. His weapon fell limply to the floor, and his lifeless body followed. China stood across the room, holding Bree’s smoking gun in her hand in a
state of trance. Snapping back into reality, she dropped the weapon, terrified at the bloody scene in front of her. China’s hands began to shake at the realization that she had just taken a life. Her palms grew sweaty, and she felt the urge to vomit looking at the dead body on the floor. She was unsteady on her feet, the room seemed to spin on her, causing her knees to wobble.
“China. Help,” Bree called out in a low, agonizing pitch. She raced over and knelt down next to him.
“Help … me … up.” He labored to get the words out as he felt his breaths becoming shorter. The bullet had entered his upper abdominal area and hit a rib, cracking it in two on impact. Bree struggled to his feet with China’s assistance. “Get the money and the gun,” he ordered. She did both as fast as she could, then helped him out the door and to the car.
Chapter 8
“Oh my God, Oh my God.” China’s thoughts were in disarray as she drove aimlessly through the streets, trying to flee the scene back at the pawnshop. Her heart beat like it was trying to escape her chest. She was barely able to control the wheel as she navigated through traffic. Her hands were trembling so much it made driving difficult. She had never seen so much blood in her life. It was everywhere, and Bree’s bloody handprints were on everything. He shouted as he sat hunched over against the passenger-side door, wincing and grimacing in pain. He wailed like a wounded animal squawking in anguish, in need of serious medical attention. Worry lines creased China’s youthful face. She couldn’t take Bree to the hospital. There would be too many questions to answer, and they needed desperately to avoid the police at all costs.
“We gotta pull over somewhere, I need to rest for a second,” Bree pleaded as he fought for breath.
“We have to keep moving,” China said, staring fiercely out the window as she drove. Stopping wasn’t an option—she had been involved in two murders, and she was coming apart at the seams. They had been ducking bullets for the last forty-eight hours. Finally one had hit its mark.
“Please, pull over!” he grunted.
China was locked in on the road but gave a brief glance his way. That glance became a stare once she saw he was in worse shape than she thought. Her heart instantly ached for him. His face was becoming pale, and she knew he wouldn’t make it if he didn’t get help. China frantically switched lanes, cutting another car off in the process, before pulling into a parking ramp.
“Find an empty floor,” Bree advised.
China did as he said, though she remained inconsolable, thinking he was about to die on her. She pulled into a parking spot, putting the car in Park. China constantly looked left and right as they sat parked in the ramp. She was a mess, a ball of nervous energy. They were in imminent danger of being captured or killed, and she was growing impatient sitting behind the wheel of an idle car.
“We need to ditch this car. I’m sure the police know what we are driving by now,” she said. “We’ve got to go now.” She went to open the car door, only to have Bree grab her hand. The sight of his bloody hand on top of hers made her cringe. The thought of him dying seemed true and actual at that moment, shattering her heart into shards of broken glass.
“I can’t, China. Just give me a minute to rest. All I need is a few minutes. I’ll be good,” Bree begged.
“We can’t! We don’t have time. Come on, Bree! We got to keep it moving,” she said, her voice straining as she spoke.
Bree tried his hardest to muster up the strength and will himself to move, but he just couldn’t. He was in so much pain. The bullet burned, and he swore he could smell his own charred flesh. His broken rib made every breath a challenge. He felt the pressure building as the tension thickened in the car. China cut the corners of her eyes at him viciously, flaring her nostrils. He could tell she was becoming frustrated with his incapacitated state.
As Bree struggled, China wondered how he was supposed to evade the police and ward off Cinco’s hit squad in his critical condition. “Bree, you got to try. Come on!” she encouraged, knowing her efforts were in vain. Bree needed medical attention. He was in bad shape and getting worse by the moment, drifting in and out as she shouted at him. China kept looking to make sure no one was coming, trying her best to give him the time they truly didn’t have. China touched his hand, caressing it, and he grabbed hers, squeezing it lightly, his once powerful grip fading. She knew he was scared and wished she could take away the pain he felt. He was all she had left in the world to hold on to. She loved him so much, and to watch him suffering ripped her apart. But what was she to do? Sit there defenseless and wait for the cops to find them or, worse, Cinco’s hitmen? She was sure, like everyone else, they had seen the news and were probably converging on Vegas in full force at that very moment. Tears pooled in her eyes as she glanced out the window, then cast a forlorn look back at Bree before reluctantly pulling her hand away from his. She stared down at the gun on her lap and thought about putting him out of his misery to keep him from suffering any more. But she wasn’t a killer, not even if it meant showing Bree mercy. Despite what had occurred at the pawnshop, China didn’t have it in her. “I love you, Bree,” she said gently.
Her soft tone and simple words felt deceitful, like a Judas kiss, and sounded like a farewell to him. Bree could sense the energy shifting in the car but was incapable of doing anything about it. Vulnerable, physically and emotionally, he was defenseless to the brewing treachery. He looked into China’s eyes, a wounded look of betrayal was there, and she turned away in shame to avoid his scornful beam. It was then he knew the separation had already occurred. The shock was like being blindsided by divorce when he realized the emptiness of her statement.
“Don’t do this, ma,” he pleaded, closing his eyes, trying to fight back tears of his own. Somewhere deep inside he always feared that if she was capable of abandoning him once, then she might be again. All his fears came to fruition in a single instant as China used the handle to push open her door and started to ease out. “Don’t do this, ma, not like this,” Bree shouted, imploring her to stop. He grimaced in pain as he reached out for her, his fingertips coming up with nothing but air as she slithered out of his reach. Her disloyalty hurt more than the bullet lodged in his ribs. “China!” he screamed. “China!”
China hesitated. The sight of him wincing and groaning in pain tugged at her heartstrings, causing her to second-guess herself momentarily. But the self-preservation that always drove her quickly won out again. “I’m sorry,” she confessed, turning and leaving him there, stuck.
“China!”
Bree cried out over and over as she walked away as swiftly as possible, refusing to break stride or look back. She knew if she did, it would only hurt more, so she kept moving. She closed her eyes, letting a solitary tear escape and slowly roll down her cheek. That was all she could afford to give at the moment. She didn’t wipe it away. Eventually, the dry tear would be all that remained of Bree as she increased her pace to a light jog, blocking out his pleading cries, and escaped the parking ramp on foot.
Chapter 9
The sound of someone leaning on the horn of the car caused Bree to stir. He felt sluggish, drained from the rapid blood loss, which had caused him to slip into unconsciousness minutes after China had forsaken him. Throwing him away like yesterday’s trash, ridding herself of the hindrance he was sure to become after being shot. Death is said to be the perfect sleep but Bree lingered, dangling between life and death. Lost between both worlds. Maybe this is what death feels like, he thought, feeling impervious to the pain he once endured. It was like all had been restored, and now all he had to do was pull back the dark curtains covering the windows to his soul and let the world back in.
Bree’s weighty eyelids gradually opened, and he felt pain beyond belief through his entire body. He could barely move without feeling agonizing pain. His only assurance that he was still alive was all the hurt he felt. Slowly, things came into focus, allowing him to take in his surroundings, trying to connect sight with sound. His thoughts were disoriented, with no sense of the ti
me that had elapsed since he had passed out. He felt slightly off balance, and his legs were tingling like the rest of his limbs as he regained feeling in them.
“Damn!” Bree cursed. He was growing more frustrated with each passing moment. He was all alone and wounded. He couldn’t escape the car if he tried. The sudden flashes of sunlight in his face caused him to squint, narrowing his vision field in order to see clearer. Bree clutched his stomach, looking down at his open wound. He could still see blood dripping. He shifted positions in the seat as the euphoria of his awakening slipped away, replaced by excruciating pains shooting through his right side. The arid condition of his mouth made it almost impossible to swallow or speak, so he reached for the half-empty soda in the cup holder and took a sip to wet his palate. It hurt as it went down, but he followed with a bigger gulp of the soda, which stung more but briefly quenched his thirst. Bree sat gathering himself, and bit by bit his cloudy thoughts began to clear up as it all came back to him. He was still in the parking ramp where China had left him. Thinking of her made the only part of his body that didn’t hurt ache—his heart. He had given it to the wrong woman, and all the love he once had for China was now a deep-seated animosity, fueled by an appetite for the ultimate revenge. He had never wished her any ill will before, but he wanted to witness the final beat of her villainous heart. Bree looked over, seeing the keys still swinging in the ignition, and he smiled a devilish grin. He knew her next steps—they had planned them out together—and his adrenaline began to spike, thinking of spoiling everything she thought she had going.