by S. J. Bishop
“Sir, I promise, we have it under control. We still don’t know if it’s related. We’re being very cautious. You’d only be another target to secure, dividing my attention.”
Marco sighed. “Please take care of my baby.”
“I will, sir. Cruz is coming back to the house, indefinitely. I promise, everything is going to be OK.”
34
Vanessa
Cruz you’re making me more nervous doing that. Just sit down for a minute!” He’d paced the entire perimeter of the house nonstop for days. The man must have had a caffeine drip or something.
Cruz looked over at me, then to Martin for guidance. Martin, who’d been in his own world, staring at his phone, waved Cruz off. The younger man, sensing the unease in Martin’s features, just as I had, crossed the room and sat at the kitchen table across from him. Martin never moved or made any outward sign that he noticed.
“What’s going on?” Cruz asked.
Martin’s head snapped up as if he’d forgotten we were in the room. “Trying to make sense of this email from Phillips.” He showed the phone’s screen to Cruz, who promptly opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
That scared me as much as anything that had happened over the past few months. I crept up behind them, reading the email over Martin’s shoulder.
“I know that name!” I said, rather loudly and too close to Martin’s ear. He jumped and spun around.
“He’s the owner of the black SUV that was following us. In D.C.”
“How is that possible?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Nobody even knew we were coming here. Hell, we didn’t even know until after the incident at my condo.” Martin scratched his five o’clock shadow.
As if on cue, the news station broke into a show that played in the background. I worried better with white noise. “We’re going live right now to a press conference being held by Sheriff Thomas and Mayor Anderson.”
At the sound of the Mayor’s name, we all jumped up and stood in front of the television, our mouths open. I instinctively rubbed my stomach, placing a protective arm across my abdomen. None of us spoke, still reeling from the information. How is Mayor Anderson the owner of a car that was following us states away?
Sheriff Thomas stood at a podium, motioning for the crowd of reporters to settle down. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me set your minds at ease. The death of Ms. Landrell, the poor young woman found in her vehicle three nights ago, is not the work of a predator. There is no boogeyman lurking in Caldwell. This is an isolated incident, and we’re investigating it to the fullest extent of our capabilities. Mayor Anderson has some things he’d like to say, and then we’ll open it up to a few questions. Remember, this is an ongoing investigation, so there will be things we can’t discuss.” Sheriff Thomas stepped aside, and Mayor Anderson glided onto the screen. He carried with his large frame an air of dominance. The crowd immediately stifled any chatter and stared up at him, rapt and waiting.
“Thank you, Sheriff Thomas. Now, as the good sheriff here said, this was no random act. You good people of Caldwell have nothing to fear. This poor, innocent young lady, Ms. Vanessa Landrell, was an unfortunate victim of mistaken identity. Now, I’m sure as most of you know, her manner of death bears no resemblance to a random act of violence. She was targeted, however unfortunately, because of her striking resemblance to another newcomer to our good town. I’m not gonna sugar coat this. We have some bad types in our wonderful little community, outsiders who came here looking to hide from their sins. And in that, they brought danger upon us. And we won’t stand for it!” Anderson pounded a fist on the podium, and the crowd cheered. “This particular Ms. Vanessa, may God rest her, is innocent in all this. She’s an innocent victim who happened to be driving a dark green Range Rover.” He emphasized the last two words, staring directly into the camera, into my eyes. “Let me assure you, my office has uncovered the true identity of the fugitives who invaded our community, and we know where they are. And they should be scared! Because Caldwell won’t stand for the likes of them in our town, around our children and our fine, upstanding, hardworking citizens!” Anderson pounded the podium with both fists that time, and the crowd went wild.
Martin and I looked at each other, not believing what we were hearing. The Mayor, who somehow had been following us in D.C. was now inciting a riot and turning the town we’d grown to love against us. It was only a matter of time before they found Rhonda, quite likely the only other green Rover in town, and connected the dots.
Martin and Cruz both said, “We gotta get out of here,” and rushed around the house to check the windows and doors for the hundredth time.
Martin came back to me, still staring at the television, watching Mayor Anderson’s tirade. “Vanessa, darling,” he shook me, “we need to get packed. We’re leaving. Grab whatever you can.” His eyes were wide, and he forced me to meet them and nod in agreement.
I threw a few things into my black bag and looked around, numb. How many times am I going to be forced to leave? I thought this would be my home. I caressed my belly and told our baby that everything would be alright, even if I didn’t believe it.
I stood in the living room, watching the Mayor’s speech on repeat and waiting for Martin’s signal. This had become an all-too-familiar pattern.
Suddenly, I heard glass shatter and felt the tiny pricks of a thousand needles across my entire body. I fell to the ground, taking cover, and crawled behind the couch. I called for Martin, who had already come running, his gun in his hand.
“Lock yourself in the bedroom!” he told me, and waved at Cruz to cover his back.
35
Martin
Tires squealed down the driveway as an older model blue pickup sped off. Three men hung on for dear life, hooting and hollering as the driver kicked up dust. They were too far away for me to get a good look at the plate.
“It’s a damn rock!” Cruz said from behind me. I turned to see him tossing a baseball-sized stone back out the broken window.
Vanessa stood, having never gone into the bedroom as instructed. As she wiped glass shards from her clothing and pulled them from her hair, she gave me what I assumed was a reassuring look. However, the fear was evident in her eyes. I went to her and scooped her up in my arms, kissing her and placing a hand over her stomach.
Her eyes shot toward Cruz, who until now, had no clue about our relationship.
Cruz walked past, radioing Commander Phillips. “Dude, you weren’t fooling anybody.” He continued down the hallway.
That’s exactly what I’d been afraid of, but right now, I was more worried about Vanessa and the baby. I pulled her to me and rocked her. Her breathing slowed, and she pushed me away. “I’m alright. Go take care of business.” She smiled. I kissed her on the forehead and followed Cruz.
“What’s Phillips saying?” I asked as I entered my room. Cruz had his go bag open, tossing clothes on top of his guns and ammo.
“Does ‘Warrior Pride’ mean anything to you?” Cruz asked.
I stopped. I hadn’t heard that in years. “Yeah, but… what?”
“I don’t know, man. He said he couldn’t talk right now, he’d call me back, and then as I was hanging up he said, ‘Warrior Pride.’”
“That’s my high school motto.” Mentally, I scanned what I knew about the high school. “There’s a payphone!”
Cruz stared at me for a moment, and I thought I’d have to explain to him what a payphone was. Thankfully, he spoke up before that became necessary. “He’s bugged.” We both took our phones out of our pockets and turned them off.
Less than ten minutes later, Cruz and I had his truck and Ma’s car full of whatever we could fit in them. I passed him carrying Vanessa’s bag, with her trailing behind him shouting something about not being an invalid. “Just following orders, ma’am.” Poor Cruz shrank under her stare. I gladly passed them by and went inside for the last box, careful not to make eye contact with either of them.
/> “Martin!” Vanessa called after me as I hurried through the house.
“You don’t need to be carrying anything, hun. You’ve had enough stress. Just go sit in the car.” I hoped that would placate her.
“Martin!” she screamed, and I came running.
A different black SUV with dark tint rolled up my driveway. This was not a car I’d seen, and my gut told me who would exit the brand-new Escalade.
Cruz tossed the bag down and shoved Vanessa behind Ma’s car. Although I’d hated driving the ancient thing around town, with the broken AC and tape deck, at that moment I was very happy that Ma still had the heavy metal 80s Camry.
Cruz and I communicated quickly with our eyes; he’d get Vanessa out of there while I held off Amara. As I crossed their path, he was tugging at the passenger door to help Vanessa in. I turned my gaze toward the approaching Escalade, careful not to let on that Cruz and Vanessa were exposed to my right side.
The Escalade barely came to a stop when the driver’s door opened. A new goon, bigger and wider than both the old ones combined, exited and opened the back door. Amara, quite tall and menacing in his own right, emerged. The way he slunk out of the car, I had no choice but to take him all in. Shiny black shoes, then a long black coat, were visible beyond the door, then a pair of leather gloves, and black hair – just as glossy as the shoes – came forward.
“At last we meet, Mr. Martin.” Amara flicked a hand, and the mountainous bodyguard handed him a black double stack mag 9mm.
My heart pounded, and I fought the urge to look in Vanessa’s direction. The car still hadn’t started up. They needed more time.
“The pleasure’s all yours, I’m sure, Junior.” I saw the flinch quickly pass over Amara’s features. I was right. If there was one thing a man like Amara would hate, it was being compared to his father and being found wanting.
Amara quickly recovered and raised his weapon chest high. “I thought I told you to stay out of this.”
“Who’s the new muscle?” I jerked my head toward the massive guard standing to Amara’s side. “Downsizing in the Mafia? Who’da thunk it.” I threw my head back in an exaggerated laugh.
“You’re a lucky shot, Martin, and I owe you for that, but you won’t be as lucky this time around. With Brock here, I don’t need another associate. He’s the size of two men, easily.”
“Sure is,” I stalled, reaching for my gun. “Easier to hit that way, though.” I drew my weapon slowly.
“Better be careful there, Martin. My sources tell me you have no way of calling for help. Wouldn’t want any accidents.” Amara took a phone out of his pocket and waved it at me, admitting that he’d been listening to us. He stepped closer.
“Don’t even!” I ordered him to stop. “I’ll shoot!” I stepped closer to him as well, setting my jaw in an ‘I don’t care if you shoot me, go ahead’ expression.
Amara clicked his teeth and inched closer. “When will you learn that you’re nothing in this? I’m after her, and I get what I want.”
Amara turned abruptly and pointed his weapon through the rear windshield of Ma’s car, directly at Vanessa’s head.
36
Vanessa
Cruz tensed up beside me, and I automatically looked in the rearview mirror, although my gut told me not to. I could feel the barrel of Amara's gun pointing at the back of my head. Through the glass and metal, my body knew it was targeted. I took a deep breath, expecting it to be my last.
“Get out of the car, Ms. Genovese." Amara's voice was snakelike and slimy as he passed by the rearview mirror to my side of the car. I fumbled on my door for a car lock button but found none. Cruz reached over me, and just as he was about to slap a tiny silver piece of metal sticking out of the door itself, the door flew open, and Amara grabbed me by my hair. He dragged me out of the car and pushed me to the ground. “Why did Marco choose to surround himself with such obstinate women?”
Suddenly, I heard a scuffle and grunting and felt Amara's hand snatched away from me, taking a handful of my hair with him. I turned in time to see Martin tackle Amara and begin punching him in the face. The two men writhed on the ground. "Go!" Martin screamed at me with everything he had.
As I attempted to climb back in the car and Cruz pulled at my clothes to help, a giant man came out of nowhere, picked me up like a ragdoll, and threw me back to the ground. He stood over me, blocking the sun, and I dared not move.
Martin and Amara rolled around on the ground beside me, both men violently attacking each other and neither gaining ground. Cruz ran around the outside of Martin's mom's car and tried to help Martin in the fight. The bodyguard standing beside me picked Cruz up in much the same manner as he had me, and tossed him aside. He then grabbed Martin by his shirt and jerked him off of Amara in one swift motion.
Amara took a moment to gather himself, patting the dirt off of his expensive-looking suit. He picked his gun up off the ground and pointed it back at me, this time in my face. "I tried to do this the easy way, but I do much prefer the hard way." He motioned with the gun for me to stand up and head toward the house.
I looked at over at Martin, who was still firmly grasped in the giant's hands, his feet kicking blindly a couple inches off the ground. He shook his head no and mouthed the words, "Don't go."
I had no choice. I looked down at the ground and began walking as slowly as possible, hoping one of us would make a move or come up with a plan before I made it to the porch. Something inside me told me that the porch was the event horizon for my death. If I crossed the line, there was no coming back.
Amara had been talking as he walked a couple feet behind me, the gun still pointed in my direction. I must have blocked him out because I caught what he was saying midsentence, "… putting up a much bigger fight than your mother. I don't know why you women think that you can disgrace my family like this and not have repercussions. Your father and I had worked out our differences and everything would have been just fine, but no. Your mother had to get her panties in a wad and decide she was too good for the life."
"I will get you for what you did to my mother," I snarled under my breath.
"I warned you in D.C. I told you I had men everywhere. I knew if I could get to you in Martin’s condo, you’d run here with your tail between your legs.” He laughed. “Besides, what do you think you're gonna do? Your big, strong boyfriend going to beat me up?" Amara grabbed my hair and turned my head to see his goon pummeling Martin with his massive fists. Cruz charged at the man, but before he could make it across the yard, Amara raised his gun and shot him.
Cruz fell just inches away from where Martin now lay crumbled on the ground, panting.
"That should teach both of you." Amara spun me around and marched me toward the front door. I shuffled my feet, stalling as much as possible, until Amara shoved me with the butt of the gun.
I had almost reached the steps when I heard Martin scream out. There were no words, just a distinctively male sound that I will never forget. Seconds later, I heard another painful sound come out of Amara as he lay on the ground with Martin on top of him again.
Everything else that happened next happened all at once and in flashes. My mind could only make sense of a second or two at a time. The giant charged at Martin with his gun pointed directly at Martin's head. There was a flash and a loud explosive noise, and the sound of someone falling to the ground. Amara jumped up and raised his gun at me, and I cussed myself for not taking cover in the confusion. All I could see was the barrel of the gun and the tiny black hole in the center of the barrel from where I knew my death would come.
I watched Amara's finger tighten on the trigger, and just as I braced myself for the life-ending pain and hugged my stomach, a blur crossed my path, and I heard the explosion of the gun. Martin flew across my body, taking the bullet, and raising his gun at Amara's head as he fell to the ground. Another shot rang out, and everything went black.
37
Martin
Shit! Everything hurts!
Even the act of opening my eyes was a challenge because, as I learned after a few minutes of trying, they were bandaged.
I felt a hand on top of mine, the familiar softness of Vanessa’s long fingers warming my skin. “Shh, Martin. Don’t move.”
“What the…?” I sat up as best I could and tore at the hoses and wires attached to me.
“I said don’t move.” Vanessa pushed me back down onto the bed, her tone less forgiving.
“What’s going on?” I allowed myself to be laid back down in the bed.
“You were shot. Jumping in front of me!” With that one, she slapped me on the arm.
“Are you OK? How’s the—” Vanessa shoved a finger over my mouth before the last word could make it out.
“Sshh.”
Marco’s voice chimed in from behind Vanessa’s. “Thank you, Martin. You put yourself in harm’s way to save my baby girl. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” The man took my hand, still in Vanessa’s, and squeezed. Ah, no wonder she shut me up.
“Just doing my job, sir. I made a promise.” I tried to open my eyes again. “Can we get this crap off me?” I tugged at the bandage.
“Daddy, can you go get the nurse?” Vanessa asked. I heard the man’s heels clicking across the room, then out the door.
“How’s the baby?” I asked, whispering just in case.
“She’s fine.” Vanessa kissed me on top of my bandaged head.
“She?”
“Well, let’s hope! I don’t know what I’d do with two stubborn, reckless, Martin men!”
“So I guess I’m gonna live if you’re giving me such a hard time.” I smiled at where I thought she was standing.