Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  “Millie, don’t…” He stood up and closed the distance between them. Patrick needed her to understand. El never understood. Hell, he wasn’t sure he understood, but for some reason he wanted Millie to understand. “I…” He couldn’t figure out how to start.

  “Speechless?” Millie smirked.

  “Don’t do that. This isn’t about us; this is between me and El.”

  “Oh! It’s between you and El?”

  Okay, wrong way to start.

  “IT’S BETWEEN YOU AND EL?” she yelled and stomped over to her suitcase and started throwing shit back into it. “You’re an asshole-bastard-motherfucker. You know, I knew that something was going on with you guys and neither of you would say a fucking word. I thought you’d fucked and didn’t want to tell me, but this is way worse.”

  “Wait, what? Y-you thought we fucked?” Patrick sputtered with all the curveballs she was throwing at him. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

  “You…” she started, then clamped her mouth shut. “You’re a fucking liar, Patrick,” she said softly, which was worse than when she was yelling. She shook her head and then started packing. “I see you.”

  “Mil, now you’re not making any sense.” Patrick was surprised Millie thought he and El had been together in any way; this was the first he was hearing about it. “Millie, I couldn’t tell El because the information about Jamie being undercover…it was top secret and…”

  “Ummmm, are you serious? You didn’t tell her about Jamie because it was top secret?” Millie glared at him. “She almost drank herself to DEATH, Patrick! And you just watched.”

  “I…” This was true. “I-I didn’t just watch,” he stammered. No one had called him on the carpet like this since his mother, years ago.

  “YOU WATCHED!” she yelled and pointed her finger at him accusingly. “You watched as she drank herself into oblivion and then got a tattoo that’s…” Her voice broke with emotion.

  Patrick hung his head; he hadn’t allowed himself to think about that first year in a very long time. He hated what he’d done to El, hated that he could’ve stopped her from feeling like she was drowning.

  “You watched as she shut everyone out, as she ignored life.” A tear fell down Millie’s face and she hurriedly wiped it away. “You watched, Patrick. And you did nothing.”

  “Enough!” he demanded.

  Her eyes snapped to him.

  “I did what I thought I had to. It was top secret and I was told I couldn’t tell her. I thought about it every fucking day. I thought about it when she crawled into bed with me because she was having nightmares. I grieved about it when I had to carry her out of the bar on her birthday. But I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out how to tell her and keep my fucking job.” He pleaded with her to understand. He needed her to understand. He needed someone to understand.

  “Oh really, so you didn’t tell anyone about Jamie?” she asked, looking out into the living room.

  Patrick felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck. She was right. He’d told Billy and they’d never told El. He’d broken the rules, the law, to tell his best friend, but never allowed himself to do that with her. When he’d finally decided to tell her, he was afraid he’d lose her, like he did when she found out Jamie was gone. He couldn’t lose her, but he did anyway.

  Millie examined his face and he felt vulnerable, which he didn’t appreciate. “I don’t like it,” she whispered as she sank to the bed. “I don’t like lies, Patrick.”

  Patrick nodded. “I hate it.”

  “Do you lie to me?” she asked, changing the subject to the present.

  Oh shit. Really, is she asking me that? “Millie, baby, I only lied to El because my job depended on it, I swear.”

  Bob and weave.

  Chapter Nine

  PRETTY GOOD FOR A DEAD MAN

  Patrick walked back to his desk after a meeting on the massive clusterfuck where it was discovered that guns confiscated by the ATF were now back out on the street. The higher ups were baffled and fuming, looking for people to blame. The meeting that started at 9:00 am just ended and it was after 5:00 pm. It took all day for all the bloated heads to talk about what a fuck up everything was, but not one of them had a solution or suggestion on how to figure out how this happened. He couldn’t even imagine an ATF agent selling the guns they’d confiscated back to criminals, it was against everything they stood for as an agency.

  He fell into his desk chair and was sifting through emails when a familiar figure sat on the edge of his desk. Pushing his chair back a bit, he looked up at Jamie. Motherfucker.

  “Patrick.” Jamie smirked down at him. He was looking very dapper in new cargos and a new ATF polo, his hair freshly cut and all of his bruises healed.

  “Jack,” Patrick replied through gritted teeth.

  “Have you talked to her?” Jamie began picking up papers on Patrick’s desk and examining them.

  “I talk to her every day, you know that.” Patrick smiled, grabbed the papers out of his hands, and looked around at the other agents near him.

  “Any word on when I can get my…what’s mine?” Jamie didn’t look Patrick in the eye, but stared out at the rows and rows of cubicles that lined the room.

  “And what is that again?” Patrick asked sarcastically.

  Ignoring Patrick, Jamie continued to stare. “You know, it turns out I not only have information on the group that was moving guns and drugs in Montana, but I may have information on other guns being moved.”

  Patrick blinked.

  “You know, the ones that are now subject to a Congressional investigation.”

  So Jamie’s going to be a witness in a bigger case than the Montana one. Fuck. Patrick’s insides seized; there was no way the FBI would touch him now.

  “I was so naïve when I went under,” Jamie continued haughtily, “but a really good friend of mine told me to get evidence and he’d help me. I held up my end of the bargain.”

  Patrick’s head hung down in shame.

  “Pretty good for a dead man, huh?” With that, Jamie hopped off Patrick’s desk and walked down the rows of cubicles, speaking to everyone like some damn celebrity.

  Chapter Ten

  PLAN C

  He was planning, putting things together in his mind. It was difficult to be juggling all of these thoughts in his head at once. He was good at compartmentalizing things, so that’s what he was trying to do, put all of these issues into their own boxes. El had come to him, asking him for help, and damn it, he was going to help her. He owed her that much, not to mention the fact he had stopped fighting his love for her. The thought niggled in the back of his mind that his help may win her over, that it might even make her fall into his arms where she should be. The last thought rose in the air and disappeared into the clouds.

  Patrick was sitting on the back porch with a beer. He and El were working together to finalize her plan, which was to get the FBI to arrest Jamie. Patrick prayed to God that would happen, but he knew in his gut it wouldn’t. He and Billy were planning to leak some information in Montana and hope that it got to where it needed to be. Plan C was his own plan; he hadn’t yet told the people he needed to about the plan to see if it actually would work, but it was brewing just the same. One of the people he would need he’d never even spoken to, other than the first night he’d met him. Patrick didn’t know how well received a call from him would be.

  Patrick’s arms wrapped around Millie as they pulsed to the beat of the hip hop music at the dance club. The three of them were there celebrating Millie and El graduating from law school. He took his eyes from Millie and searched the dance floor for his roommate. She was entangled with a gigantic guy with tattoos all over him. He looked familiar for some reason. He felt Millie’s breath on his ear.

  “We need to grab a cab!” she yelled so that he could hear her over the music.

  He nodded; he was more than ready to go. Millie walked to the door and Patrick approached El and her dance partner. They might as well be fu
cking on the dance floor.

  Patrick touched her back, hot and slick from sweat. She looked back at him and smiled; he motioned for the door and then turned, heading to find Millie. He watched El rebuff the guy she was dancing with out of the corner of his eye, relaxing when he felt her hand in his as she followed him toward the door. Millie and El waited on the sidewalk while he tried, unsuccessfully, to hail a cab.

  “Fuck,” he muttered and looked back at his girls on the sidewalk. Each was a sweaty mess.

  “Let me handle this,” El said mischievously and walked over to where a few Town Cars and limousines were idling, waiting for their fares to come out.

  Millie looked at Patrick, obviously amused. He put his arm around Millie and watched El as she leaned into the window of the first limo.

  “What is she doing?” Millie laughed.

  “No idea, babe.” Patrick nuzzled behind her ear and Millie giggled again.

  El then took her shirt off and waved them over to the limo. They began walking the distance to where El was standing, Millie curious, Patrick frustrated. Why the hell was she taking her shirt off? She leaned back into the window for few seconds before re-emerging, smirking at them.

  “Your friend is fucking nuts,” Patrick pointed out, waving at El.

  Millie hit his arm playfully. “My friend?”

  “Yep, she was forced on me,” he deadpanned.

  “Low blow, dude,” Millie replied.

  What’s going on?” Patrick asked as they approached El, who was putting her tank top back on.

  “Just get in the fucking limo.”

  El jumped in the limo. Patrick let Millie get in first and then followed her in. Right as Patrick got settled, the door opened and the guy El had been dancing with slid into the car and sat right next to El. Again, Patrick had a feeling he knew him from somewhere, he just couldn’t figure out where.

  “So, I hear I’m taking you home and my driver has your phone number. It must be my lucky night.”

  El’s face showed surprise as the man obviously ogled her. The man then looked at Patrick and Millie and asked where they were headed.

  Patrick’s jaw clenched. “We’re going to Old Town,” he answered, his voice tense.

  Millie cleared her throat at Patrick’s harshness. “I’m Millie, this is Patrick, and that’s Stella.”

  “My driver just sent me a picture of your boobs, Stella.” The guy smiled and Patrick wanted to punch his white teeth in, but he was pretty sure this guy could handle himself.

  The guy draped his arm around El’s shoulders and showed her the picture on his phone of her boobs. She fake laughed, uncomfortable. “So Stella, I’m going to take your friends home and then get Jimmy to take us to my hotel. You on board with that?”

  “No,” Patrick answered for her at the same time she agreed. He was pissed; she was being stupid.

  The limo dropped them off at the house and Patrick held Millie’s hand as they made their way up the steps. Patrick was trying to keep his mind off what was happening in that limo. He was pretty sure the guy was Jesse McIntyre, who used to play with the Redskins. El was a big girl and could take care of herself, right?

  “What’s wrong?” Millie asked as they walked into the kitchen and she grabbed a bottle of water.

  “That’s just not like her. She doesn’t just hook up with people.”

  Millie cocked her head to the side in a question. “She’ll be fine. She needs to let go. The whole George thing threw her for a loop. How do you get over someone? Get under someone else,” Millie recited happily.

  Patrick shrugged and fought the emotion tickling his brain telling him he didn’t want her under anyone else.

  “I’m getting in the shower. Care to join me?” Millie asked in sing-song.

  “I do have an area in particular that needs a good scrubbing,” he answered, following her to the tiny bathroom. He was glad Billy was back home in Pittsburgh for the weekend.

  Jesse would be essential to his plan, a plan he wouldn’t give El all the specifics on until it was too late, a plan that, if it was needed, would change everything, for him and for her. Could he do what he was planning to if it came to down to it? He just didn’t know.

  The door opened and El walked out on the back porch, sitting in the chair facing him. Her hand was in a cast.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said as she took the beer from his hand and took a sip. “Where’s Mil?”

  “She had some lobbying thing on the Hill, why?” Patrick didn’t like the look in El’s eyes. It was feral and scared, two emotions she didn’t have the luxury of being right now.

  “I’m…” she started and then stopped.

  He rose and pulled her out of her chair, into a bear hug. She rested her cheek on his chest for a second and it was like paradise. Her here, with him only, needing him only. He smoothed her raven locks back gently.

  “What happened?” He’d already heard from Billy, who met her for drinks last night, that Jamie had attacked her during a run. Patrick had already decided she would no longer run without him.

  “I know you know. You guys are like the fucking Siamese twins.” She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it and she looked worn down.

  “We’ll run together from now on.” He squeezed her harder and then sat back down.

  She slumped back into the chair. El never pretended with him, she never acted like she was okay when she wasn’t. And she most certainly wasn’t okay.

  “I don’t know what to do, Patrick. I’m pissed. I’m tired. I just need him to go away, to leave me the fuck alone, once and for all.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Patrick prodded.

  “The same as before. I want to get the FBI to arrest him; now it’s just a little more urgent.” She ran her good hand through her hair, which was now falling right at her shoulders. Her green eyes looked at him, wide and clear. “He just fucking attacked me, Patrick, right there on the street. He’s getting more brazen. His hubris will be the death of him.”

  El didn’t know how right her words were, Patrick was depending on Jamie’s hubris.

  “I’ve called Harris and said I’d do a recording, but I want to make sure I’ve got all my bases covered. Let’s plan while we run?” She lifted her green eyes to his in question.

  Patrick nodded. While he understood the situation, there was a part of him that was elated that she needed him and he’d get to see her daily again. “El, we’ll get him,” he assured her.

  “I hope so,” she said and looked toward the backyard, avoiding eye contact with him. “If not, I’m pretty sure I’m dead.” She got up and walked in the house, leaving him with that thought.

  It was in that moment he knew with certainty that Plan C would be necessary and he could do it. He wouldn’t live without her. He couldn’t live without her.

  Chapter Eleven

  TWO LIES AND A TRUTH

  Patrick closed his eyes and leaned back into the uncomfortable seat; he hated to fly. No one knew this, or any of his fears, for that matter. He didn’t let anyone see what was underneath the surface of his calm façade. The worry that he wouldn’t be able to save El, the trepidation that he would be unsuccessful in his planning, the guilt that he felt leaving his family…everything was bubbling within him; he didn’t have a moment’s peace. He was flying to Atlanta to meet with Jesse and Frank so they could plan the logistics of killing Jamie. He was going to kill someone, and not just someone, but a friend. He used to be a friend, he reminded himself. Thoughts of Jamie and how he’d crushed El washed over his mind.

  El’s birthday had been a fucking disaster. She’d gotten drunk and made a total ass of herself at Finnegan’s. He’d basically carried her out to the car after she fell off the barstool, showing everyone that she didn’t have underwear on. She passed out on the ride home, her tank top slipping off one shoulder and her skirt hiking up her thighs.

  Patrick shook his head to clear the thoughts of her. She wasn’t his. He’d really been trying to help her, but
if she didn’t get through this shit soon, he was going to tell her everything. It was breaking him inside to live this lie with her when she was so devastated.

  Opening the door to his Audi, he pulled her up and threw her over his shoulder to carry her into the house. Billy stayed at the bar because he was likely getting some action from a cute girl he’d been working on for the last couple of weeks. Cooper met them at the door, his tail wagging its perpetual beat.

  “Hey, bud,” Patrick called over his shoulder as Cooper followed them into the basement.

  He laid El down gently and pulled off her flip flops. He looked at her sprawled across her bed, her hair splayed over her face and the pillow. She was a beautifully broken creature that he didn’t know how to fix. Sighing, he pulled the covers down and rolled her over, then pulled the covers back up. Cooper hopped on the bed and laid his head on the pillow right next to her.

  Patrick walked back upstairs, pulled a bottle of Honey Jack whiskey out of the cabinet, and poured himself a very tall glass. It’d been eight months since he first told El that Jamie was dead and every day seemed to be worse than the last. He couldn’t tell her the truth, could he? Maybe he could come up with some way to tell her without really telling her.

  He finished his drink at the kitchen table in the dark and walked to his room, taking his clothes off and falling into bed. Sleep came quickly.

  His door opening woke him up, and then he felt her get into his bed, naked. Good God, this girl was going to be the death of him. He would die from blue balls. He turned into her, pulling her close to him. She’d probably had another dream. They’d been sleeping together a lot lately. If this is what she needed, he could do that. He owed her that much.

  Her smell woke him early and he was immediately met with a massive erection. Fuck. He needed to get laid. He pulled his arm out from under her head, trying not to wake her. He sat on the side of the bed, looking into the darkness, watching the morning come through his window. He needed to get laid immediately.