RESILIENCE (Resilient Saga Book 1)

by Marcia DM

  I lie on the bed gasping for air.

  CHAPTER 22

  BRUNO

  “This better be fucking important.” I open the door, only to find Carter standing there as if waiting for something. He’s wearing a black trench coat with a hoodie that shrouds his face in shadows. If I didn’t know him at all, I could swear this is the Grim Reaper.

  “Very fucking important,” he replies smiling. He looks at me from top to bottom and says, “Are you okay, cuz? You look… stiff.” He points out and chuckles. He notices that my dick is rock solid and he’s throwing jokes at my face. I pull my shirt down trying to hide it, but I just make it worse.

  “Are you coming in or what?” He walks in and sits at the kitchen table. I grab two beers from the fridge, pop the caps off and bang them on the table. I sit down, he grabs one of the bottles and sips twice from it. I grab mine and then I see Sarah walking through the door. She’s blushing. Her hair looks messy.

  Man, she’s beautiful as fuck.

  There might not be anything to give her horniness away, but I’m pretty good at reading her eyes and she’s still feeling it.

  I still can’t believe Carter cock-blocked me like that.

  Carter notices I’m not fully looking at him and she’s behind him. He turns and says, “Hi there, Snow White. Were you asleep?” His mocking tone and the raised eyebrow were for Sarah, but the cheesy look was for me.

  “Something like that,” she says while fixing her hair. Carter’s not a moron, he knows we were doing something, and he will yank my chain as much as he can.

  “What do you have for me, Carter?” I try to mask the hate I feel right now, but I can’t, because Sarah sits down next to him, instead of me, and that makes me mad.

  “Okay, get this…” He takes a couple of sips from his beer. “…Leon was spotted with the ‘Devil’s Head.’”

  I’ve got you, son of a bitch.

  “Devil’s Head? What’s that?”

  “It’s a biker gang, or as they call themselves, a ‘Motorcycle Club,’” Carter points out while looking at her through the corner of his eye. “They run a public bar near Bancroft station.”

  “He’s not stupid enough to show his face in a public bar.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m guessing that he’s a guest in the motel on top of that bar.”

  “What do we do now?” Sarah says, but I can only hear her moans in my mind.

  Fuck!

  “We need to come up with a plan. We don’t have much time. If he’s really there, he won’t stay for long.” I can see Sarah’s reaction to this new information and I can guess what she’s going to say next.

  “I vote we go there now. I’m bored as hell, cuz,” Carter says while stretching his arms over his head and slowly moving one behind Sarah’s back. He touches her back; she feels it and flinches.

  I smile.

  “Not a chance. The playfield just changed. We won’t make a move yet…”

  “Bruno!” Sarah yells, making me snap out from my scheming process. “Why not? Let’s go right now. You’ve said it yourself— he won’t stay there for long. Let’s use this to our advantage!” I shake my head. It’s not easy, but we need to have a plan and a contingency in case something goes south. It’s that simple. I don’t want any casualties for lack of planning. “If you’re not coming, I’m taking off with Carter.” She stands up like an offended teen.

  “I said no!” I hit the table with my fist like a hammer. “Now, sit down and let me think how to fucking pull this off. Otherwise, you won’t get your chance, honey.” The intensity in my eyes is exclusively directed at her. She looks back with a fierce expression.

  Carter whistles. “Kids, kids. Come on…” He intercedes. “Don’t fight over this douchebag. Sit down, both of you. Pretty please? With sugar on top. Now, what did you mean with ‘chance,’ cuz?”

  “Bruno promised me that he will let me kill Leon. He promised and now he’s not keeping his promise!” Sarah yells, leaning forward without breaking eye contact with me.

  “What the f…”

  “It’s not that easy, Sarah. I know how to do this, you don’t! So shut up and listen to the pro!” I lean forward, our noses are almost touching.

  “WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE SAY!? Are you out of your mind, cuz?” Carter stands up; now the three of us are standing around the table looking at each other. “Are you going to put her in harm’s way? This is wrong.” He points out.

  I glare at him. He’s my cousin, my blood, and I love him to death. But in this particular moment I want to rip his throat out. I don’t want him to be between Sarah and me, and right now he needs to leave.

  “I would never put her in danger. Who do you think I am? I know how to handle this, and that is why, if she wants to have it her way, she will listen to me,” I say, hoping to defend myself.

  “This is madness. I’m not gonna be a part of this. You two are… forget it. I need to go, I’ve got some shit to do.” He starts to walk towards the door, looking back at us in disappointment. He walks out and slams the door shut, leaving us in the kitchen.

  Silence surrounds us.

  “I told you this has to go my way. If you can’t follow orders, then forget the whole thing!” The intensity is still present in both our looks. How did we get here from where we were? From passion to this in a split second.

  “I’m not your hostage any more. You can’t order me around!”

  That’s a low blow.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it! I want us to do this the safest way possible. If you go in solo, they’ll kill you. I know the spot all too well. You can’t handle it!”

  “I don’t get it, Bruno. I could’ve gone with Carter. He wouldn’t have let them hurt me!” I’m starting to see red, I feel like molten lava is running inside my veins. I’m slowly walking towards her; my steps are heavy. Before I know it, I’m cornering her like a fucking maniac.

  I need her full attention. I need to ask her this.

  “Carter? Is this tantrum about him?” I’m inches away from her mouth. I want to devour it again. I’m drowning in jealousy; dammit, I can’t control it.

  “What if it is!? Don’t you dare tell me you’re jealous!”

  “You have no idea the power you have over me…” She breaks the eye contact and looks down at the floor. She mumbles something, but I can’t make anything out of it.

  I’m so fucking mad at her, at Carter and even madder at myself for losing control.

  “I care about you, a lot. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Don’t you see it?” And with those last words I leave the kitchen, right before she can fire something hurtful.

  Fuck you all.

  CHAPTER 23

  SARAH

  “Thanks for ruining the show,” Life is complaining once again.

  I’m by myself in the kitchen, numb and not knowing what to do or where to go.

  Did I hurt him? I don’t know. Do I care about him? I shouldn’t, but I do.

  I’m at that point in my life where I want to touch the fire. I’m aware that it will burn me, it will hurt, and yet I want to reach out and touch it.

  “That’s called being fu—”

  …Fucked up, I know that. Shut up, Life.

  I’m positive that the only thing left is… Well, not a thing, but a person —Bruno. And it’s plain to see we were in a situation where we both needed to move forward, to reach the next logical step, if any, in our ‘weird relationship,’ but couldn’t. Neither of us had the courage to break the barrier, for fear that maybe the desire to break it was one-sided. But what just happened clearly shows that we both wanted to do it, badly.

  I could go looking for Bruno and ask him to forgive me, but I don’t think I’m ready for what could come next— both of us alone in a room, again, after what just happened, could be dangerous.

  I don’t know if you noticed it, but something changed tonight. And now somehow, I have to deal with this avalanche of feelings, so suffocating that
they’re threatening to bury me alive.

  Before he spoke those words, I was feeling strong, invincible even. But now, I’m guilt-ridden and have a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I was mean, unthoughtful and a horrible person— in short, a bitch.

  I walk out of the kitchen and I hear him juggling weights at the gym; his grunts echo through the house. I don’t want to go in there, even though it’s tempting. I picture him angry and sweaty, hauling dumbbells all over the place, all his muscles getting bigger…

  Stop it!

  I must stop. I need to think about something else.

  The big flat screen TV in the living room looks at me, persuading me. It will provide me with a fair amount of distraction. I sit down on the couch and turn it on. One of the many food channels is on. A fancy lady, resembling Martha Stuart, pretends to cook in front of the camera. I leave it on only because they are showing how to cook a recipe that my mother used to cook for me: roasted chicken with potatoes. That’s a dish my mother used to cook for both my dad and me. That was the day changer— if we were having a sad or bad day, she would cook it and lift our spirits, turning the day into a joyful one. She always found a way to cheer us up with her cooking skills.

  That’s it!

  Without losing a beat, I stand on my feet and make my way towards the kitchen again. I’ll honor my mother by cooking her famous roasted chicken with potatoes. And if I do this right, it may serve as an ice breaker, and Bruno might stop being mad at me for being such a jerk.

  I’ll put all my time and energy into it. I want it to be nearly as perfect as the one she used to make, even if it takes me more than two hours.

  I take the roasting pan out of the oven. The thing looks like it was taken from a cooking magazine ad. I set the table and put it in the center. I’m amazed by it. I’m even smiling while I look at my work. I take two steps back to get a better view of the dining table and then it hits me.

  It looks like a table for two people in a date.

  Did I really do that?

  “You know it, girl,” Life whispers.

  I’m waiting for him to swing by the kitchen. He hasn’t eaten for the last couple of hours and, after all that workout in the gym, he must be really hungry. But he’s not coming, and I’m starting to feel like an idiot. I glance at the clock— it’s eleven o’clock. I stand up and go to his room. The door is closed. I knock twice, he doesn’t answer. Before I can knock again, I hear:

  “What do you want, Sarah?” He grunts.

  “I cooked dinner, in case you’re hungry,” I reply with caution.

  “I’m not, you can have my share, if you want.” The answer is like a slap across my face. I don’t insist. Instead, I go back to the kitchen and eat by myself.

  The first bite takes me back to the past and I relive my life before the kidnapping. The last Christmas, my father’s birthday and the time I tried to bake him a cake and made a mess, that one time when my mother got a knife-cut on her finger while cooking dinner for us, the way my dad seemed charmed and in love whenever he looked at my mother, the last time I saw them hugging each other. All that dropped like a nuclear bomb, making me weep in silence.

  I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  I repeat again and again like a mantra. I’m sorry, I’m sorry… My brain is about to collapse; this might be my last sane thought. I’m covering my eyes with my hands, I’m pushing my palms hard against my eyes, as if I could prevent the tears from sliding down my face. What happened? How could this be the end of the story? Why didn’t I die? If I had, she’d still be alive! I want to die!

  “I want to die,” I murmur.

  I feel his hands sliding under my armpits. He lifts my body with ease, as usual. I surround his hips with my legs, wrapping around him with no intentions to let go, ever. He’s all I have left; Bruno is the ground that supports me.

  His perfume fills my lungs, it helps me breathe. He walks around the house while I’m still clinging onto him, buried deep in his neck, sobbing endlessly. He runs his hand along my hair and my back, and he sings…

  “…But to love her is to need her everywhere

  Knowing that to love is to share

  Each one believing that love never dies

  Watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there

  I will be there and everywhere

  Here, there and everywhere…”

  By the time the song ends, I’m calm, no longer crying, and he puts me down on the couch. He hugs me tightly without letting me go.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t want to be rude or ungrateful,” he whispers into my ear. His tone changed, his voice doesn’t sound angry any more. The energy around him feels different.

  “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry for being a bitch.”

  He laughs, and his laughter echoes in my ears and acts as a painkiller.

  “What do you say we have dinner together? It smells really good.” I abandon the shelter I made on his neck to look straight into his eyes. I pause there for a second and then I look at his lips.

  God, why am I so confused!?

  I nod and while holding hands, we both walk into the kitchen.

  After his first bite, he claims that this is the best roasted chicken he ever had in his entire life. I don’t know about that, but I sure feel good that he likes it.

  I don’t want to talk about Leon right now. I’d rather let the subject cool off a little bit. We better chit-chat about something else.

  “Have you traveled the world, Bruno?” He was about to take a big bite, but he stops. I shocked him with this personal question. It’s the first of maybe many to come. His body is covered in sweat, his shirt has big sweat stains. I guess it’s an obvious result of his workout. He was in there for more than four hours, after all.

  He clears his throat. “Yes. In fact, I’ve been all over. There are only a few places I’ve yet to visit, some others I’d like to revisit, since when I was there for work-related stuff, I couldn’t really enjoy them as much as I would’ve liked.”

  “Why didn’t you go back yet?”

  He thinks for a second.

  “I’m always working.”

  “Are you working now?”

  “No.”

  “No? Why not?” I feel like a four-year-old, asking and asking endlessly.

  “Because I decided to take some time off after the last mission. And before you ask again like the little girl scout you are, let me tell you: that was the longest, hardest and most frustrating mission in my life, ever. Actually, I said time off, but I meant retirement. I’ve got the money I need to live a full life without worrying about anything else again.” I say nothing, and he seems okay with it.

  After we finish dinner, I take upon the task to load the dishwasher. He helps me with it by lightly rinsing the dishes first in the sink.

  “I’ve bought everything you need for tomorrow. You’ll find the bag in your room. Tomorrow we’ll wake up early enough for you to get ready. And when I say ‘early,’ I really mean early. With that being said, do you want me to wake you up?”

  Bruno tasked with waking me up in the morning sounds… interesting and dangerous at the same time.

  “Don’t you worry. I can wake myself up,” I reply while looking through the corner of my eye; he seems disappointed. “When did you find the time to buy me stuff?”

  He proudly laughs and says, “Amazon Prime.”

  He walks me to my room and explains what to expect tomorrow, the dos and don’ts— he doesn’t leave anything to chance. We will probably talk about this again in the morning.

  I open the bed and slide under the sheets. This is my place in the world. He tucks me in the way he likes it.

  “It’s a two-hour drive. It looks like some old friends of your mother’s claimed that the service should be held in the city where she was born. The forensics obtained the same obvious results we did, but they went through the entire textbook for this one, which is why it took them this long to releas
e the body. It will be a closed casket service, a small ceremony, some may say a few words in her honor. Are you sure you’re up to it? Remember you can’t stand out and blow your cover, you’ve gotta blend in.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I need to go, I want to… I have to, for her, for me. I wanna say goodbye.” I want to be at peace with her, so that I can focus my entire attention on Leon.

  “Okay, if you say you’re ready, I believe you. ‘Nite, Sarah.” He kisses my forehead, reaches for the night light with his left hand, switches it off, and walks away. I doze off as soon as he closes the door.

  Next morning, I wake up and he’s the first thing I see— he’s waking me up. Of course. I didn’t hear my alarm at all. A blonde wig with a black dress are the outstanding details of my ‘new outfit.’ Is this his way of blending in? This dress hugs me like a koala hugs a tree, it’s tight as fuck; surely not a suitable outfit for a funeral service. Everyone will notice me for sure. I wonder what went through his mind when he bought this?

  “Have you seen the way your tits pop out in that dress? He probably rubbed one off thinking about them. I know I would have.”

  Is it just me or you sound a little bit… jealous, Life?

  “Whatever.”

  I walk into the living room and there he is, sitting on the couch, waiting for me. He’s wearing a well-tailored suit. His appearance made me flash back to “him”— serious, reading a newspaper. His body language makes me freeze in place. He notices the sudden stop and switches his gaze from the newspaper to me. There I find his ever-welcoming eyes paired with his perfect smile, warming my entire body, making me feel at home.

  “I know it’s not my place to say this, but that dress looks really good on you.”

  “No. Definitely not your place, but thanks. You don’t look bad yourself.” I chuckle. “Is that your costume for today?” I say, noting that he’s dressed as usual.

  “Wait.” He raises his index finger and reaches into the inside pocket of his suit with the other hand. He pulls out what seem to be sunglasses and puts them on. “There. What do you say now?”