by Susan Stoker
“Lucky me,” Bill said under his breath again. Then louder, he mocked, “Well, Jones, if that’s even your name, your wife is probably having a grand old time fucking your best friend back home on the beach while you’re here in this shithole of a town.”
Aimee had no idea what protocol was in these kinds of situations, but the man who’d called himself Jones seemed to have no sense of urgency in his voice. It was as if he was chatting Bill up at a party or something. She looked over at Tony. He was standing stock still now, but she’d noticed he’d moved about a foot closer to where Bill was standing with her in his tight grasp.
Tony’s shoulder was still bleeding, if the enlarging stain on his shirt was any indication. Amazingly though, he acted as if he didn’t even realize he was hurt. He wasn’t holding on to his arm, and didn’t even seem to be favoring it. Aimee had no idea how badly he was hurt, but surely it had to be superficial, because she figured otherwise he’d be swaying, or swearing, or something.
One thing she did know was that she’d never forget the way Tony looked right this moment. It was inappropriate as hell, but she figured God would cut her some slack if she died right now, because Tony was…glorious.
His hands were fisted at his sides, as if he was holding himself back by a mere thread. His eyes were narrowed, and focused on Bill and her. She couldn’t see his jaw under the beard, but she imagined he was probably clenching his teeth in aggravation. Amazingly, his hair was still up in a messy bun at the back of his neck, but she could see some strands of hair hanging loose around his face. He looked like an avenging angel. Her avenging angel.
But it was Tony’s eyes that fascinated her the most. He was standing about nine feet away from them at this point, but she didn’t think she was imagining the emotion she saw in his glittering brown eyes.
When he was looking at Bill, she could see determination and frustration in his eyes, but when he turned his gaze to her, she could see affection and reassurance in them. It was crazy, she’d tell anyone who tried to explain they could see emotions in someone’s eyes that they were being silly, but at that moment she would’ve bet everything she owned that she was right.
It gave her hope.
It gave her confidence.
It gave her the ability to stay calm, even as Bill’s arm tightened around her neck painfully.
She wanted that kiss from Tony. She wanted more than that, but she’d start with a kiss. Aimee knew she just had to be patient.
She wasn’t dumb. At any time, Bill could decide he was done with the back and forth and shoot her and Tony before any help could get to them, but she wasn’t going to call it quits quite yet. She wasn’t a quitter. She was going to fight for her life, and Tony’s, and the lives of the thirty-six children hiding across the room.
“Actually, Jones is my name.” the disembodied voice returned. “And yeah, I’ve been made fun of my entire life because of it. Having a last name as my first has been a pain in my ass, but my mama gave it to me, and I love that woman with everything in me. She was a single parent and raised me in Compton. You’ve heard of Compton, right, Bill? Every day I walked home from school past drug dealers and prostitutes. I knew how to inject meth and snort cocaine by the time I was nine. So yeah, I have some idea of what it’s like to struggle to get by.”
“But here you are, on the right side of the law. Aren’t you just the poster child for getting out of your piss poor situation?” Bill retorted, not willing to give an inch.
“I was arrested three times before I was eighteen,” Jones continued, as if Bill wasn’t insulting him with every breath, his voice echoing throughout the vast room. “The last time I did a stint in juvie because I hit a cop. I was forced to join the Army after that, and it was the best thing I ever did. I hated the drill sergeants yelling at me all the time, but I learned that sometimes it’s better to work as a team, to be quiet and act with professionalism. Life is a struggle, Bill. Every single damn day. I’m not married, but if I was, I wouldn’t stay with a woman who opened her legs for my neighbor or best friend. I deserve more than that. You do too. You deserve a woman who loves you for who you are, not for how much money you have or what you do for a living.”
Aimee noticed two things at the same time. Something this Jones guy had said resonated with Tony. He suddenly lost some of his focus on her and Bill and his eyes started to subtly wander the room, as if he was looking for something. Secondly, Jones’s words seemed to be having an effect on Bill as well. His arm loosened a fraction, not enough for her to move away from him, or even break away, but enough that it took the pressure off her windpipe, allowing her to breathe a little easier.
She took deep breaths, filling her lungs with fresh air, readying herself for when he’d tighten against her again.
“I won’t lie to you, Bill,” Jones’s disembodied voice went on. “You’re in trouble here. We both know that, and I’m not gonna feed you a line about giving up and walking out of there a free man. But what’s happened doesn’t mean the end of your life. Yeah, you’ll do some time, but it won’t be forever. You’re young…what…twenty-three?”
“Two,” Bill answered absently.
“Twenty-two then. I don’t know what happened today to make you think this was the best solution, but—”
“You ever been ignored, Jones?” Bill interrupted. “Ignored so much in your life that no matter what you do, no one sees you?”
“Yeah, I have.”
“Bullshit!” Bill roared, scaring the shit out of Aimee and making her jump in his arms. “I’m not talking about a woman choosing your buddy to suck his cock in the back hallway of a seedy bar, I’m talking about every day of your life, by every single person you’ve ever met.”
“Then, no. I haven’t been ignored like that,” Jones said calmly.
“Right, then you have no idea what it’s like to walk down the street and not have one person look you in the eyes. To bring your items to the check-out line and have the lady behind the register not look up at you once. To be at a high-school dance and stand against the wall the entire time as if you’re not even there. I’m invisible, man. I’ve always been invisible.”
“That’s tough, Bill,” Jones commiserated. “Is that why you did it? So you’d be seen?”
“Damn right. I can’t be ignored now,” Bill said, the heat back in his voice. “Good job, Tina. You jumped so high in your cheerleading routine,” he singsonged, as if remembering the voice of someone else. “Wow, Tina, that cake you baked came out perfect. Way to go, Tina, you got all A’s this quarter. Tina, Tina, Tina. It was always fucking Tina. I brought home all A’s for an entire year, and I didn’t get one word of recognition. So I tried failing everything, but all I got was an eye-roll. I could’ve dropped out and that bitch wouldn’t have even noticed. Until you’ve been where I am, you can’t understand.”
“So you did something no one could ignore. Good job, Bill,” Jones said dryly. “You’ve got all the recognition you can handle and more.”
“Yeah, damn straight,” Bill agreed.
“So what now?” Jones pushed. “You’ve got two hostages and the attention you’ve always wanted. How do we get out of this?”
Bill raised the barrel of the pistol to Aimee’s head. “I’m not going to jail. I’ll be ignored there too…except when assholes want to make me their fuck toy. This ends here. I need to make sure I won’t be ignored even when I’m dead. Everyone’s gonna remember my name. William Walter Waters. I’m gonna be famous.”
Aimee refused to close her eyes. If she was going to die, the last thing she wanted to see was Tony’s face, not the backside of her eyelids. And she was going to die. She could feel the determination in Bill’s hold on her. The barrel of the gun pressed into her temple hard enough that she knew it was going to leave a mark. She chuckled morosely to herself; a bullet would leave much more of a mark, it was silly to even be thinking about what she’d look like when Bill pulled the trigger, but she couldn’t help it.
She vagu
ely heard Jones’s voice in the background, but had no idea what he was saying. Aimee kept her eyes on Tony. She had no idea if she had only seconds to live, but if he gave her any indication of something she could do to stay alive, she’d see it and act.
She wanted to live, dammit.
She wanted it.
With every fiber of her being.
Bill leaned down and whispered in her ear, his voice blowing her hair in a way that would’ve been seductive if it was a different time, a different place, and a different person.
“My apologies to Billy the Kid and Emilio Estevez for screwing up their line…but you’re gonna make me famous, Miss O’Brien.”
Nine
Jones kept talking, trying to get Bill to concentrate on him rather than on whatever asinine plan he had in mind. He knew without a doubt that the man would kill both hostages if he could. For a kid who’d been ignored his entire life, and compared to an over-performing sister, getting recognition by being a killer seemed to be a perfect solution to finally get people to pay attention to him.
Bill wasn’t a terrorist. He had no agenda, other than to get people to see him. And he’d certainly succeeded in that. He was being seen all right.
Jones had tried to let Mr. Santoro, Tony, know that he was Delta, but had no idea if his subtle clue had worked. Using “quiet” and “professionalism” was a direct reference to something Delta soldiers said many times, no matter where they were stationed or trained. It was an unofficial motto that had been passed down through the years. Jones had no idea what branch of Special Forces Tony had been, but he hoped he’d recognize the reference regardless.
Deltas were known as quiet professionals because they were top-secret and did what they had to do without anyone knowing about it. The world knew about Navy SEALs and what they did, but Deltas were the great unknown. People knew they existed, but every single mission was top secret and even knowing who was on the teams was kept quiet.
Knowing Bill was done talking to him, that nothing he was saying was getting through to the young man, Jones hoped like hell the Deltas were ready. This was about to be over in a very bloody way and he’d done all he could to make sure the elite Army team had enough time to get into place.
Looking at the video in front of him, all Jones could do was watch, and wait, for the shit to hit the fan.
Aimee had been concentrating so hard on watching Tony’s eyes, seeing the emotions play out in them, that she almost missed his signal. Bill was still whispering in her ear, but she’d tuned him out. It was if she was in a long tunnel, and the only thing she could see was Tony at the end of it. Sounds were muted, and she felt as if she was watching the scene from the rafters lining the gym ceiling instead of being in the middle of it.
Tony’s eyes shifted. He looked down, then back up at her. He did it again, this time lowering his chin at the same time he dropped his eyes. Aimee wanted to believe it was a signal, but she couldn’t be sure. Unfortunately, she had no time to wait around and try to decide if what she was seeing was really a signal to drop to the floor or not.
It’d be tricky, she was currently being held up by Bill’s arm around her throat, but she’d do it. Anything was better than her brains being splattered across the gym floor. And if she was wrong, misinterpreting Tony’s actions—it was possible it was just a tick or something—maybe her actions would force Bill, Tony, the cops outside, Jones…someone to do something.
Bill was mid-sentence, saying something about making history, when Aimee let herself go limp in his arms. His hold around her neck tightened painfully, completely blocking her air for a split-second.
Aimee wasn’t a big woman, but she was muscular. Her weight, and the surprise of her dropping, made Bill lose his grip on her and her knees crashed into the hard wooden floor of the gym.
What seemed like simultaneously, shots rang out and echoed across the gym. Aimee whimpered in fright, waiting for the pain of a bullet to hit her, sure Bill had pulled the trigger as he’d been threatening. Her eyes involuntarily squeezed closed, shutting out everything around her.
Sound was muted, she heard noises, but wasn’t sure exactly what she was hearing. Grunts, moans, and shouts…but she stayed huddled on the ground in a small ball, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
Aimee felt herself being embraced. She wasn’t moved, wasn’t shifted in any way. Arms and warmth surrounded her as she shook in delayed reaction to everything that had happened. She didn’t dare open her eyes, too scared of what she’d see. It was cowardly of her, but she’d reached the end of her rope. All thoughts of dying as she looked into Tony’s eyes were long gone.
Slowly, her senses returned and she heard words being murmured in her ear, over and over.
“I got you. It’s okay, I got you, Aimee. You’re okay. You’re safe. We’re all right. I got you.”
I got you.
She knew in an instant it was Tony crooning to her. She didn’t move, but opened her eyes into slits, taking that first step into dealing with the aftermath of what had happened.
She couldn’t distinguish much because of her position on the floor, but she saw several pairs of boots standing near them, and heard lots of talking all at once. The wooden planks of the gym floor surrounding her were splattered with red paint…no, not paint.
Feeling vulnerable, and finally realizing the delayed need to protect herself, she whipped her head around to look for Bill.
He was lying behind her, on his back, arms outstretched, gun still clasped in his hand. His eyes were open and staring up at the rafters. There was a small red stain slowly spreading on his shirt, and a larger puddle oozing out from under him.
Aimee didn’t even flinch. She’d never wished death on anyone, no matter how bad they were, but at that moment she was more than happy that it was Bill lying on the floor dead, rather than her or Tony or any of the children.
“I got you, Aimee.” Tony repeated the words and Aimee felt them soak into her soul. She knew she’d never forget this moment, or his words. They were just what she needed to calm her, to make her able to deal with the situation.
“The kids, we have to get them out,” she stated resolutely, trying to stand up.
Tony moved out of her way enough to let her stand, but he was right there next to her, his arms still around her, holding her tightly when she stood upright.
“They’re in the lockers, right?” a voice to their left asked.
Aimee turned her head, not willing to pull herself out of Tony’s arms yet. She saw a tall man, obviously military, even though he was in jeans and a black T-shirt. He had the kind of conceited, “I can take care of everything” look about him. His arms were covered in tattoos and he had blue eyes.
“Yeah, it was the only place we could think of to hide them,” she answered affirmatively.
“I had nothing to do with that decision,” Tony told the soldier. “It was all Aimee.”
For a second she thought Tony was throwing her under the proverbial bus with his words, but realized almost at the same time, that he was giving her credit for the decision, rather than having the man standing next to them think it was his doing.
“Good job, ma’am. How many kids?”
“Thirty-six,” Aimee answered. She knew she should probably go and help keep the students calm, but she didn’t have it in her at the moment. Realizing something, she blurted out, “Take them through one of the locker-rooms so they don’t have to see him.” She motioned toward Bill’s bleeding body. “They’ve been through enough.”
“Of course.” With that, the man jogged around the obstacle course equipment Aimee had set up what seemed like years ago.
“You okay?” Tony asked in a low voice next to her.
Aimee looked up at him for the first time since the bullets had started flying. Surprised to see such a tender, concerned look on his face, she could only nod.
“God, you were awesome. I’m probably not supposed to say that, but it’s true.” Tony looked around
for a moment, then his eyes came back to hers. “We don’t have a lot of time before the cops descend, but in a nutshell, Jones is Special Forces, or former Special Forces or something. I knew by something he said that there’d be others nearby just waiting for the perfect time to act. I didn’t know if you’d understand me or not, but since you hadn’t taken your eyes off of me the entire time, I’d hoped.”
“I saw,” Aimee said simply.
Tony nodded. “It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all we had. I knew if we could give the guys a shot at Bill, they’d take it. Hell, they’d probably take it even if you hadn’t moved, but I didn’t want to take that chance.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here. For helping me with the kids. For being a voice of reason.” Aimee stroked his bloody arm. “Thank you for being the man you are. I wouldn’t have been able to stay calm if you weren’t here with me.”
“Bull,” Tony countered immediately. “You’re a professional down to your bones. You would’ve done the exact same thing if I wasn’t here.”
“But I’m glad you were,” Aimee whispered.
Before Tony could respond, they were interrupted by a large man in a police uniform.
“Miss O’Brien? Mr. Santoro? I’m Captain May. I’m certainly glad to see you alive and well. EMS will be here in a moment to take a look at that arm, but I’m going to need both your statements about what happened here today.”
Aimee nodded, and Tony did the same. He held out his hand to the captain and they shook hands. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
They all turned upon hearing the commotion on the other side of the gym. The kids were being let out of the lockers two by two. They looked scared and shaken up, but they were alive. It was all that mattered.
One of the children, a first-grader named Bridget, saw her favorite teachers from across the gym and took off around the officers and military guys trying to herd them toward the locker rooms. She made a beeline for Aimee and Tony.