Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  “I’m making it, which I’m told is all I can expect right now.”

  “You still doing physical therapy?” Patrick asked.

  “Yep. I started lifting weights again. I’m going to be glad when I don’t have to wait for doctors and therapists to tell me what I can and can’t do.” She took a sip of her drink and looked over the rim at him, her green eyes wide and cautious.

  “Have they told you what the impact of your injuries will be in the long term?” Billy asked.

  “Sort of…they don’t know everything. I may need more surgeries.”

  His jaw tensed even though he knew that might be a possibility. She’d almost died and was still trying to recover. He wanted to take her pain from her. He looked down at his hand, holding Millie’s. Liar. He was a fucking liar, to everyone.

  She continued to explain her injuries to them, not looking up at their shocked faces. “I’m in pain all the time. It went from pretty significant, constant pain to a dull pain, also constant. The pain has lessened, yes, but it never leaves.”

  Patrick knew that feeling, a pain that never leaves. His pain was in his heart and it was her fault.

  “Oh, that sucks, El,” Millie comforted.

  “Were they able to get the bullet?” Billy asked.

  “Billy!” Patrick chastised. Sometimes Billy acted like a twelve year old.

  “Bullet went through my back,” El answered.

  “For real?” Billy’s eyes grew wide. “Can I see?”

  “Sure.” El stood up after taking a gulp of her drink. She took her shirt off and turned around.

  Patrick’s face reddened at the scars all over El’s body, the bullet hole in the heart of her tattoo. How’s that for irony? When she moved to put her shirt back on, he was able to see the angry red lines in the form of cobwebs all over her chest and torso. It was all he could do not to choke and pull her to him. He willed his hands to stay where they were.

  It was quiet. Nobody knew what to say next.

  “Stella,” Patrick said in a low, hoarse voice.

  El’s green eyes were full of emotion and rose to meet his. “Yes?”

  “I’m so sorry, El,” Patrick whispered.

  Millie gulped her drink and Billy’s mouth hung open in disbelief. None of them had seen the extent of El’s injuries. They were all in shock.

  “Well, fuck. If I’d know this would keep y’all quiet, I would’ve done it thirty minutes ago,” El said lightly.

  Billy cleared his throat. “Your tattoo looks sick now. There’s a for real bullet hole in it.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “I didn’t know you had all those scars,” Millie said quietly.

  “Yep, pretty ugly, huh?”

  “Nothing on you is ugly, El,” Patrick answered quickly, and Millie’s eyes snapped to him.

  “I think you’ve been watching too many tabloids, Patrick. Those pictures were me before I almost died, leaving me scarred and broken, but thanks for trying to boost my ego.”

  Millie pulled her hand away from Patrick’s and poured herself another drink. FUCK.

  Billy laughed. “You know, I really like the bikini picture the media has started running every time they talk about you.”

  “Oh, you like my nineteen-year-old self?” El teased.

  “Way better.” He shoveled Frito Pie in his mouth, then gestured to her with his fork. “Now you’re old and all scarred and shit.”

  Patrick kicked Billy under the table. He couldn’t believe Billy just said that.

  El burst into her real laugh, the one he loved. It was so obnoxious that Millie and Patrick joined in. El snorted, which sent Billy into hysterics.

  They talked for another hour and then all moved into the den. El sat on the couch next to Billy, letting him prop her up. After a few minutes, she stood up and announced she better go home.

  “I’ll walk you,” Patrick offered, following her.

  “No, thanks, Patrick. I’m okay,” El rebutted as she opened the door.

  “Then I’ll follow you.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer. He was going to make sure she got home safe, even if it was from a distance.

  “Patrick, I said no.” El walked down the stairs.

  Patrick followed her out the door. “I don’t care.”

  “Like usual, right?”

  Millie was behind him, listening to them. “El, you may want him to go with you because of the media. Are there paparazzi outside George’s house? Patrick may be able to help.”

  El’s shoulders slumped a little.

  “She’s right, El,” he whispered. “Let me do this.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.” Her words were void of any fight.

  He waved at Millie. “I’ll be back,” he offered and hurried after her. “I know,” he said, responding to her earlier statement. It killed him to think about that fact, but it was clearly how she felt. He walked next to her in silence, trying not to touch her. It was so difficult for him he fell back and just followed her for the rest of the walk.

  When they reached George’s street, he grabbed her hand. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” he asked desperately.

  “I don’t think so.”

  His shoulders fell; he took a deep breath and released her hand. “Really?”

  She’d lived through this horrific situation, but now he was going to have to live without her anyway. He didn’t know if he could handle their revolving around each other and her not forgiving him, not needing him.

  “I’ve been thinking about it and I just don’t think I can, Patrick.” She stopped walking and stood facing him, her face pinched in regret. “In some ways, I feel more betrayed by you than by him.”

  This he couldn’t take. He couldn’t believe she was comparing him to Jamie. That motherfucker. “El, don’t you remember any of the good times we had?” His voice was low. “You mean a lot to me.”

  “Patrick, all those good times seem like a lie to me now. I can’t separate them from all the lies you told. You broke the only thing that I had left, trust. I can’t trust anyone now because of you.” She started walking again, and he followed her.

  He hadn’t done that, had he? She was blaming him for that?

  “Fuck, El. Please forgive me,” he begged. “Let me make it up to you. Give me a chance.”

  “Give you a chance for what? To break whatever little I’ve got left? No thanks.”

  The wire around his heart tightened and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t be able to breathe without her. They’d never kissed or fucked or anything, but he couldn’t breathe. He needed her in a way that made him angry; he needed her in his life so he could live.

  “When I found out you’d been shot…” he started, “I—I thought I’d lost you with you hating me. I couldn’t deal with it. You’re important to me, El. For four years we’ve been friends. You’re MY person. It wasn’t a lie when I helped pull you through that first year without Jamie. It wasn’t a lie when I held you during all your nightmares. It wasn’t a lie when I talked to your parents every day for an entire year, assuring them you were okay. It’s not a lie that you’re my best friend. I would do anything for you. I honestly thought I was doing something good for you. It was a mistake, and by the time I realized it, it was too late.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I fucked up, Stella,” he interrupted her; it was now or never. “I’m sorry. Haven’t you ever fucked up?” He was pleading now, his voice rising. He knew the answer.

  “Of course I’ve fucked up. You had a front row seat for that. I just don’t know if I can trust you again.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I’m just being honest.”

  “Let me try, El. You’re my person.” He would make it up to her or die trying.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. When El saw the photographers outside George’s house, her body physically reacted. Without thinking, Patrick put his hand on her back to guide her, but she shook him off and kept walking.
r />   “I’ve got it from here, Patrick,” she said.

  “El, come on,” he pleaded.

  “I’ve got it.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds. Her gaze lit him on fire.

  “Okay. We can try.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly up to the front door, leaving him standing there, burning.

  Chapter Seven

  IS THAT A TOOTH?

  Billy and Patrick pulled up to the house after their beer run and collectively scowled at a car they didn’t know in the driveway.

  “Whose car is that?” Billy asked.

  “No idea.” Patrick fumed and pulled onto the side of the road down a bit from the house. Why would anyone park in their fucking driveway?

  They got the beer out of the back seat and started walking toward the house when he heard yelling—El was yelling. He dropped the beer on the sidewalk, which burst like a firecracker. He and Billy began running and had just taken the first step to the house when he saw George on top of someone through the window, beating the shit out of him in the foyer of their house. As he appraised the situation calmly from the steps on the porch, he heard the name “Jamie” float past his ear.

  Billy grabbed his arm. “Not like this, Patrick. We’ll do it right. Not like this,” Billy said and they ran into the house.

  George was beating the ever loving fuck out of Jamie. He sort of wanted to stand back and let him do it, but it wasn’t clean. It wouldn’t work; Jamie needed to be taken out without involving George.

  El was screaming. Her screams seared his ears and froze him for a few seconds. “Do something, Patrick!”

  Patrick waited a beat too long and she pushed him at the two men tangled on the ground. Then she turned and screamed at George.

  “You get George, I’ll get Jamie!” Patrick yelled to Billy as he attempted to pull two guys apart in the midst of a full on, fight-till-you-die tussle.

  Jamie was hitting George with everything he had, but George wasn’t even there; his rage had taken over and he was pummeling Jamie, over and over, his eyes glazed over with fury. To be honest, Patrick was kind of impressed by George, he didn’t think George had it in him. Jamie was bloodied and bruised; someone’s tooth was on the hardwood. Patrick wanted to just let George beat the fuck out of Jamie for what he’d done to El, but then George would get in trouble and he didn’t know if El could handle that. Billy was right. They could handle Jamie, but it needed to be planned; this was too dirty.

  Billy was able to grab George’s arms and Patrick pulled as hard as he could, heaving Jamie out from underneath George. He started dragging him toward the door. Once they were in the front yard, Patrick watched in horror as Jamie yelled obscenities, telling George that El had sucked his dick in Florida and every other day she’d been in his presence. El was screaming for him to shut the fuck up. All of a sudden, George tackled Jamie from behind and Patrick was knocked sideways for a few seconds. George had to contain his shit.

  “George! Stop, get up!” Patrick yelled, grabbing Jamie and trying to separate them again.

  Billy started yelling at El to help and Billy once again tried to wrap his arms around George to stop him from swinging at Jamie.

  She ran and put her face right in the line of George’s fist. “George, that’s enough.” She put her hand on his arm. “George, please.”

  George raised his torso up from pummeling Jamie’s face. He was straddling Jamie and had blood splattered all over him; Jamie’s face looked like hell.

  “This is nowhere close to enough,” George said between clenched teeth.

  It looked like he was about to throw another punch, but Patrick and Billy were finally able to separate Jamie from him, pulling him away from George and escorting him roughly down the block. Patrick was shocked that Jamie would just show up at their house with Millie there. He took a glance over his shoulder to see her standing on the sidewalk, watching George and El, who were getting on George’s motorcycle. Her brows were pulled together in a scowl.

  “That was fucking stupid, Jamie,” Patrick said calmly.

  Billy was dragging Jamie down the sidewalk, farther and farther away from their house. Patrick could almost hear the gears working in Billy’s mind.

  “Jamie, you’re some dumb fuck. Why would you come to our home? You’ve just crossed the only friends you may have had here,” Billy said, giving Patrick a look telling him to play along.

  Jamie grinned and his mouth was full of blood, his front left tooth missing. “I will kill her, you know. I wanted her to come back to me, but she wants that asshole.”

  “That asshole just beat the fuck out of you,” Patrick pointed out, taking in Jamie’s appearance. He hadn’t seen him in about five years. He looked nothing like he did when Patrick had dropped him off at the airport all those years ago. He was rail thin with a full beard and bleached blond hair hanging past his shoulders. The worst part was that Jamie’s eyes were vacant; they used to be warm and full of humor.

  Billy stopped walking. “Where you staying, fuckface? You need to get to a doctor and I know Patrick won’t put you in his car.”

  “Aw, Billy you’re going to take care of me?” Jamie whined, spitting blood out on Patrick’s shoe.

  “Not at all, asshole.” Billy stepped back, separating himself from Jamie. “We only stopped that because El doesn’t need to have her boyfriend going to jail for killing you.”

  Blood dripped from Jamie’s face and fell onto Patrick’s hands. It was warm. Patrick examined his hands and Jamie’s blood on them. Maybe he should try reason. “Jamie, what’re you doing, man? It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “Oh, but it does, my two best friends. Oh, but it does.” He began walking away from them and toward the house, stopping after a few steps and spitting out a red glob of blood. He turned and looked at them both. “You know, she testified and then went back to a hotel and fucked his brains out, like she didn’t even care. She left me in Key West to die. I’m more resourceful than she gives me credit for, but she’s a cold bitch.”

  “You did that to her,” Billy said harshly.

  Patrick nodded in agreement.

  A smile spread across Jamie’s bloody face and mouth. “The funny thing is we’re still perfect for each other, you know? Perfectly fucked up.”

  Patrick shook his head in disbelief. “What happened to you?”

  “What the fuck do you think happened to me during four years undercover, Patrick?” Jamie laughed, almost maniacally, and then grimaced. “While you were trying to get in her panties, I was trying to survive. Every. Fucking. Day.” Jamie walked backwards, glaring at Patrick.

  Millie moved out of his way as he stalked back into their driveway and got into the Toyota Camry that was parked there.

  Billy touched Patrick’s bicep to keep him where he was. “Let him go.”

  Patrick cocked his head to the side in question, now watching Millie watch Jamie get in his car. He wondered if she’d heard what he’d said.

  “We have to do something,” Patrick hissed as he wiped the blood on his shirt and the sweat from his brow.

  “We will.”

  Patrick walked quickly up the sidewalk and pulled Millie into his chest. She didn’t deserve to be pulled into this shitstorm just because she lived with him. He’d protect her too.

  “Who was that, Patrick?” Millie’s voice shook subtly.

  “Some fucking guy that George used to know. Undoubtedly he got El’s old address off the internet and just showed up. I guess they had some shit to work out.”

  “Some shit to work out,” she repeated robotically. “That looked like way more than shit to work out. It looked like George was going to kill him.”

  Patrick nodded. “I’m pretty sure he was going to kill him.” He got the feeling that Millie didn’t hear what Jamie had to say about El. Thank God.

  “That’s insane.” Millie shook her head and followed Billy into the house. “Was it the guy that his former fiancé cheated on him with?
” she asked.

  “Maybe…” Patrick answered. He was a liar.

  Two weeks later, an almost 100% healed Jamie/Jack walked back into to ATF headquarters, but on a different floor from Patrick. Patrick had heard rumblings of something big going on, but he busy completing reports on new recruits and couldn’t be bothered with office gossip.

  “Greer,” he heard his supervisor call from his office.

  Patrick looked up from the computer in his cubicle to where Kevin’s office was located. He was standing in the door with a blank face, which was never a good thing. Patrick stood up immediately, knowing something was amiss. He took in his surroundings as he walked to Kevin’s office. People were walking around and gossiping more than usual, no one was at their desk. He took one last look and saw David, a fellow agent, wave him towards his desk. Patrick shook his head at David as he entered Kevin’s office. The door clicked ominously behind him.

  “Sit down,” Kevin barked.

  Patrick racked his brain trying to recall if he’d fucked anything up recently, but couldn’t think of anything significant.

  Kevin huffed out a sigh and then sat behind his desk; the view from his window was the Pentagon. Patrick stared out out the window for a few seconds while Kevin shuffled papers on his desk. He wished he had a fucking window at his desk.

  Kevin was older than Patrick, his brown hair had a little of salt and pepper beginning to form around his temples. They weren’t close, but he’d been Patrick’s supervisor for a number of years and had always watched Patrick’s back. Kevin had been married and divorced twice since Patrick began working for the agency and he often talked to Patrick about how the work was the biggest bone of contention in both marriages. He was on 24/7 and it got to be a little much for females not used to the lifestyle.

  Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so this is a clusterfuck.”

  Now Patrick was really paying attention.

  “Jack has been located,” Kevin said levelly. “He contacted his new handler and they pulled him in. Undoubtedly, he’s been on the run for the past year, but the Crowders, the family he’d infiltrated, caught up with him recently in North Carolina and put a beating on him. He’s back in the building and I wanted to give you a heads up.”