by B. B. Hamel
I had one missed called from Tanner. I almost called him back but stopped myself. I bit my lip and thought about what he said.
I shoved the phone into my pocket and stalked back toward the door.
It had been a long time since I was close to my father. I remember the day I walked out on him.
It was a Saturday. Sun was shining. I told him I was taking a bus to Philadelphia.
He looked over his shoulder and took a long pull from a beer bottle. “Good luck on your own, you fucking bitch,” he said.
All the struggle that came after was worth it. All the sleepless nights worrying about whether I could make rent or not, all the long hours doing menial bullshit jobs, all the hustling and praying, it was all worth it.
It all meant I didn’t have to be a part of my father’s life anymore. I didn’t have to live on his blood money. I didn’t have to put up with his abuse.
And now he was back, somewhere behind that black door with its white frame.
I stared at it then walked up the stoop. My heart hammered and I felt like I might be sick.
He called me the day he came into the city. He called and told me that he was moving his business down south. He said he wanted to be close to his daughter again. He said that sooner or later, I’d come crawling back.
He was right.
I knocked hard and waited.
There was noise inside. Locks slammed open.
My father’s sallow face stared out at me. His dark eyes were surprised. His hair was thinner than I remembered, his gut was bigger. He wore a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeve dress shirt. He looked like a Cuban cab driver.
“Come on,” he said. “Get in out of that alley.”
I stepped into his house. He looked both ways then slammed the door shut and locked it up tight.
The living room was sparse. Wood coffee table, big leather couch, oversized flat-screen TV. Takeout containers littered the surfaces. There was a kitchen table with mismatched chairs.
A soccer game played on mute on the TV.
My father put his hands on his hips. I walked further into his house just to put some space between us.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” he said.
I turned and faced him. I felt years of pent-up fury begin to boil up through my chest. This man, this bastard, he’d tormented me for so long. I worked hard to get away from him and just when my life was going okay, just when things were somewhat stable and I had a future to look forward to, he decided to come roaring back into the picture.
He decided to fuck my life up all over again.
“Someone came to kill me last night,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t do a good job.”
“He decided not to,” I said. “But I saw the gun. He was mafia. Said the Leone Crime Family sent him.”
My father’s face clouded over. “Sit down,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m not staying long.”
“If the Leone sent someone after you, they’ll try again,” he said. “What the hell happened?”
“He got cold feet.”
“Fuck,” he said and grinned. “I thought the Leone were better than that.”
“You’re going to get me killed,” I said. The words came out a roar. “I worked so hard to get away from you and now you’re back and you’re going to get me killed.”
“That won’t happen.”
“It almost did. Last night. And I got lucky.”
“Sit down,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m not sitting. I’m not staying. I don’t want your help. I just want you to know that when I turn up dead, it’s your damn fault.”
“Elise,” he said. “You’re being irrational. I’ll post guys outside your door. I’ll watch you.”
“You won’t,” I said. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Then why are you here?” He grinned at me and spread his hands out. “Come on, Elise. Sit down and talk to me.”
“No.” I took another step back. I felt myself panicking. What the hell was I doing? I shouldn’t have come to see him, but Tanner’s words were like an infection in my brain. He wanted me to come seek my father’s help and so I went to the old bastard’s address.
And now I regretted it. I shouldn’t have come here. Because now my father thinks he has power over me, and I know he’ll never let that go.
If I give him an inch, he’ll take everything I have and ruin it.
“At least have some coffee,” he said.
“I’m here to beg you to leave the city,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
I was improvising, but I went with it.
“Leave the city,” I said. “Get out of here. Drop whatever you’re doing. Tell the Leone family you’ll just… you’ll go away. Tell them to leave me alone. That’ll work, won’t it? They just want you to leave?”
His face darkened. “That won’t work.”
“It will,” I pressed “They just want you gone, so go. Go back to New York, run your business there. What do you even need to be in Philly for?”
“I don’t need it,” he said. “But I’ve worked hard to have it. I carved out my own territory, I’ve bled for this and—” He stopped himself, shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just sit down and we can work it out.”
“Leave,” I said. “Please, Dad. I’m begging you. Get out of this city and never come back. If you stay, I’ll never be safe.”
“If you stay with me, you’ll be safe,” he said. “You can come home. Be with your old man again.” He grinned and gestured at his messy place. The walls were exposed brick. There were no decorations hanging from them. “I could use a little help around here, you know? Your old man’s a mess.”
“My old man’s a fucking psycho,” I said.
“Elise.” His face darkened again and he dropped his hands. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I walked backwards and almost tripped over a stack of magazines. National Geographic, bright yellow. “Why don’t you care that someone came to kill me?”
“Of course I care. But you’re not dead. So it’s hard for me to believe the Leone were serious.”
“They were serious,” I said. “The guy just— he just—”
“What was his name?” Dad asked.
“Tanner,” I said.
He froze. Went still, like an animal playing dead.
“Say it again?” He spoke each word carefully.
“Tanner,” I said. “Do you know him? What’s wrong with you?”
“Tanner,” he said. “Jesus Christ. The Leone sent Tanner to kill you?”
“That’s what he said his name was,” I said.
“He’s known all over the East Coast,” Dad said. “I’ve used him before. Reliable and steady. Always kills and hasn’t been caught yet. He’s been active for years and I can’t imagine how many deaths he’s responsible for.”
I felt a cold sweat trickle down my back. I spent the night having incredible sex with a maniac.
“Leave the city,” I said. “Just leave, okay?”
“They’ll send someone else,” Dad said. “You have to let me help you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I can’t.”
“Elise.”
“Please, just leave.” I turned, fled into his kitchen. More pizza boxes on the counter, dirty dishes in the sink, puke-green cabinets. I ran to the back door, unlocked a row of bolts and padlocks, threw it open.
“Elise!” he called, coming after me.
I ran into his backyard, my heart hammering. I felt trapped. I ran to the back fence and jumped at it, not sure what I’d find.
Another alley, this one barely a few feet between the brick wall of the houses behind and the backyard fences.
“Elise,” Dad said. “You can’t get—”
I dropped down into the gap. I felt my leg scrape against concrete
and wood. I groaned and began to shuffle sideways, a little at a time, heading to the left.
“Elise!” Dad shouted.
But I just ignored him. I kept going, got caught on nails, had to tug my sweatshirt free. It ripped in two places and I stifled a sob before I reached the end and stumble out onto a busy street.
A man in cargo shorts and a polo shirt with a phone shoved against his ear looked at me like I just fell from the sky.
I shoved my hands in my pocket and walked. I kept my head down and moved as fast as I could. I couldn’t think, just felt my head spinning.
My father would never leave the city. And I would never let him help me.
That meant I had no other choice.
I had to run.
My mind ticked through all my belongings. I could fill a suitcase with the necessities. I had some money in my bank account. I could get a train and take it as far away as I could. Then from there I could find a bus or a plane and go somewhere else. I’d pay cash everywhere and keep my phone turned off.
Hell, I’ll throw my phone down a ditch and buy a burner.
I had to disappear. That was my only chance.
I reached my block and was mentally calculating exactly what I could bring with me when I walked past a familiar old black Lexus.
I slowed and stopped then stared at the car. I felt my heart hammer.
He was back to finish the job.
I turned around toward my apartment building and slowly looked up.
Tanner smiled at me. He leaned back on his elbows in the middle of my stoop. He wore a tight black t-shirt and a pair of fitted jeans. His brown boots were scuffed and dirty. He looked gorgeous and sickening all at once.
“Hey,” he said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So I figured I might as well make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”
I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out.
5
Tanner
I led her up to her apartment and slammed her door shut. I slid the chain into place then turned to stare at her.
She backed up, bumped against the kitchen table, then felt for a chain. She slumped into it and put her hands over her face.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “Am I dreaming right now?”
“Not a dream,” I said. “But I’m flattered.”
“Nightmare, then.”
“Wet dream, maybe.”
“You’re gross.” She dropped her hands. “Seriously Tanner. What are you doing here?”
I shrugged and leaned against the wall. I watched her and tried to think up an answer that wouldn’t make me sound insane.
Probably too late for that, anyway.
“I decided I don’t want you to die.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said.
“I’m serious,” I said. “Do you have any clue how much danger you’re in right now?”
She chewed on a fingernail and stared. “I went to my dad,” she said.
I arched an eyebrow. “Really? You seemed pretty against that.”
“I’m desperate, I guess.”
“That’s good then. He’s going to send guys, right?”
“Wrong.” She dropped her hand into her lap. “I told him to leave the city. Also to fuck himself.”
I barked a laugh. “You’re kidding me?”
“I’m not kidding you.”
“Damn. You know what kind of guy your dad is, right?”
“A guy like you,” she said.
I spread my hands out. “Fair enough,” I said. “So you probably shouldn’t tell him to go fuck himself.”
“He’s my dad. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“That’s not a good assumption to make.”
She glared at me and I could see the frustration building. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “He’s not going to help me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Okay, I get it.”
“So he just let me leave there. And now I’m going to get murdered.”
“Not necessarily.”
She abruptly stood up and stomped into the kitchen. She threw open the refrigerator and took out a bottle of wine. A painting on the wall rattled when she slammed the refrigerator shut.
I watched her open the bottle, fill a glass to the brim, then drink half it down.
“Please don’t get drunk,” I said.
“What do you care?” She sloshed the glass toward me. “You can just leave. You’re not the one that’s going to get murdered.”
“You’re going to be hard to deal with if you get drunk.”
“Tanner—”
“Please,” I said.
She stared at me. I walked over to her and she took a step away from me, her back up against the counter. I reached out and touched her fingers, pulling the glass toward me. She snarled like an angry dog but I peeled her fingers back and took the glass from her.
“Asshole,” she said.
I stayed standing close, my body inches from hers. “I know this is hard,” I said. “But getting wasted won’t help. Trust me on that one.”
“What the hell do you know about what I’m going through?” she asked. “You’re always on the other side of the gun.”
I smiled a little. “Not always,” I said. “But most of the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t even know what you’re doing here.”
“I told you already. I don’t want you to die.”
She looked away. “I don’t know why. You’re probably the only one.”
“Stop,” I said. “Your boss cares about you.”
“True,” she said.
“And I bet you have friends.”
Short pause. “Somewhat true.”
“At any rate, people would care.” I leaned closer to her. “Besides, I keep thinking about last night. How am I going to taste a fuck like that again if I let you get yourself killed?”
Red filled her cheeks. “Get away,” she said.
I laughed and backed off before she could snatch the wine glass back. I dumped it out and grabbed the bottle. I shoved the cork inside and put it back in the refrigerator. No use in letting a nice white go warm.
“We should probably talk.”
“What’s there to say?” she asked. “I’m grabbing my things and leaving.”
“I thought you were getting drunk.”
“I was getting drunk. Then I was leaving.”
I laughed. “You’re not thinking straight.”
She threw her hands up. “No shit, I’m not thinking straight. I’m terrified.”
“I know,” I said and kept my voice soft. “I know you are. Look, just come sit down on the couch and listen to me for a minute. If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll help you pack and I’ll get you on the next bus out of here. Okay?”
“Train,” she said.
I frowned. “Train, what?”
“I want to get on a train,” she said.
“Right, sure,” I said. “We’ll get you on Amtrak and you can ride the rails as far south as it’ll go.”
She brushed past me and stomped out into the living room. She sat down hard on the couch and crossed her legs and her arms. She stared at me through pissed-off eyes.
“Talk,” she said.
I smiled and walked out. “The Leone Crime Family wants you dead,” I said. “It’ll send a message to your dad, right?”
“I know all this.”
“Right,” I said. “And they hired me because I’m the best.”
She hesitated. “My dad knew your name.”
“I figured,” I said.
“He sounded afraid of you, actually.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You don’t seem scary.”
“I know.” I crouched in front of her. “That’s because I’m not trying to scare you.”
She bit her lip the rolled her eyes. “You’re a little dramatic.”
I grinned and stood back up. I sat in a chair next to the couch and leaned tow
ard her.
“My contact in the family said they’re going to send someone else,” I said. “There are a few guys they might pick, but there aren’t exactly a ton of murder-for-hire types floating around these days. Too hard to get away with shit.”
“Oh, that’s such a shame,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “They could send one of their own, but that would be stupid. They tend to be… sloppy. They’re tough and violent, but they’re not real killers.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I have a point,” I said, holding up a hand.
“Then get to it.”
“Real hitmen are dangerous,” I said. “We have to learn how to kill and how to kill efficiently. I can murder someone anywhere, anytime, with enough preparation and planning. And I know for a fact that my rivals all can do the same thing.”
“So what?”
“So it doesn’t matter if you run or not,” he said. “They’ll hunt you down.”
“Please,” she said. “I can pay cash. I can freeze my bank accounts. I can get a new phone.”
“And they’ll still track you. Facial recognition software is absolutely everywhere these days, and any killer worth his price is tapped into those systems. I know I can call up the police databases whenever I want.”
She snorted. “Liar.”
“Believe me or not, I don’t care. But I’m telling the truth. Even if you run to Florida, hop on a random boat to Barbados, you’ll still be found sooner or later. That’s just how this goes.”
“I bet I can guess what you think I should do.”
I leaned closer and raised my eyebrows. “What?”
“Stay here, with you.”
I laughed. “Damn right,” I said.
“No way,” she said. “Just no way.”
“If you stay with me, I can keep you alive. I know how these guys think and operate. I know what angles they’ll use, what time they’ll come, how they’ll do it. I can fight them off and keep you alive until the Leone family can cut a deal with your dad. We’d need weeks, at most.”
“How do you know they’d cut a deal?” she asked.
“They will,” I said.
“You have no clue.” She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so full of shit. You can’t even help yourself.”