The Bulletproof Boy

by Loretta Lost

  “Little Ricky has some smooth moves after all,” Cole says with a grin. “Want me to top you off with some more bubbly?”

  “Please,” I respond, and he begins to walk over to the bar. I call out after him, “But last glass for me as I have to fly to Michigan in the—”

  “Be quiet,” Cole says suddenly, turning around and moving back over to me. He strategically shields my body with his own, and hands me my champagne glass. Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I look at him warily, and he shakes his head to indicate that it’s not good news.

  The look on his face gives me a shiver.

  “We’re making small talk,” he says quietly. “Normal little small talk chatter at a party, blah, blah, blah. Oh, haha, you’re saying such interesting things.”

  “Cole?” I ask softly, trying to peer around his shoulder, but he grabs my waist and holds me tightly.

  Then I hear it. The sound of a voice that makes my blood run cold.

  It’s worse than walking into a room and finding a dozen dead bodies.

  And trust me, that’s pretty bad.

  I sharply suck in a lungful of air. An involuntary gasp; the wheeze of a slaughtered animal. I find that my hand has moved to grab Cole’s arm. I am gripping him so tightly that my nails are leaving imprints in his skin.

  “Small talk,” he mutters softly. “Very, very small talk about very small things. We are relaxed, normal, innocent bystanders, not calling any attention to ourselves. Small talk.”

  I have a gun in my purse.

  While Cole is blabbering on about small talk and trying to appear normal, I am visualizing the shiny metal weapon in my handbag. My fingers slowly release their death grip on Cole’s arm, and move to slide under the leather flap, between the sharp ridges of the zipper. I can feel the sensation of the cool metal against my fingertips, and it’s almost erotic.

  Oh, it feels good. My fingers drink up the metal as they plunge into the purse, scrambling for it, embracing it, spilling some of my champagne. But Cole reaches out and grasps my wrist, shaking his head slowly.

  “Not now. Not in public like this.”

  Public. I suppose we are in public. But I think everyone at this party is an ally. Everyone cares about us. Everyone knows who we are. Then why did we decide to dress Cole up in disguise? Just in case he was seen on the way over here. Just in case a stranger came by. Just in case…

  There must be some people at this party we don’t trust. Caterers. Bartenders. Waitresses. I am Scarlett Hunter here, and I can’t just shoot a man in front of all those people, for absolutely no reason.

  No reason.

  My inner temper flares, a sudden lightning storm inside my chest. I have to press firmly on my heart to make the fire and rage subside. No reason, indeed.

  “Be calm,” he tells me softly. “I’m right here.”

  How can I be calm? He is standing so close to us. I can hear his voice, his laugh. He’s speaking to Miranda. Miranda’s voice sounds strained.

  My head hurts. My head throbs more with every word I hear him speak.

  “I didn’t realize there was a party happening here, Miranda. Did my invitation get lost in the mail?”

  “My apologies, Benjamin. It’s just a small family gathering to celebrate Cole’s killer being brought to justice. Did you hear? Jeremy Brown and Marco Williams Jr. were killed a few days ago, and police found enough evidence in their homes to suggest a premeditated attack on Cole.”

  “Yes, yes, I heard,” Benjamin says. “It’s absolutely certain that they were responsible?”

  Miranda pauses. “Yes. They were also responsible for a few other murders. And Jeremy’s sister, Brittany, cooperated with the police and told them everything that her brother did, and made her do.”

  “I see. How tragic that such a bright young man was taken down by such savages.”

  Detective Rodriguez moves over to Benjamin then, and greets him warmly, shaking the man’s hand. “Thanks for your cooperation with our investigation, Senator. I apologize again that we had to bring you into the station, but it was touch-and-go there for a while.”

  “I completely understand, Detective. I know that you worked very hard to solve this case, and I wanted to congratulate you on your success.” Benjamin pauses. “I just hope that you are right about who is really behind the murder of Cole Hunter.”

  I find myself biting my lip so hard that I draw a bit of blood. I swipe my tongue across my lip to remove the acidic, watery liquid along with a bit of waxy lipstick.

  Cole’s face is growing contorted into a frown, which I can detect even under his disguise. I am not in disguise, other than my dark hair. I am not wearing any contact lenses, prosthetics, or anything else. Placing a hand on Cole’s chest, I use his body to brace myself, standing behind him and looking down to conceal my features. I see that Zack is standing across the room, glancing at me with concern.

  “I believe we are correct about this case,” Rodriguez says, after a pause. “One of the killers was confirmed to be associated with an international drug smuggling ring. Why would you express doubt? Do you have any information?”

  “Not really,” Benjamin says. “Do you mind if I have a glass of champagne, Miranda? My throat feels so parched today.”

  “Please feel free,” she says softly.

  As Benjamin pours himself a glass, the party has gone silent. Perhaps a little too silent. Everyone is focused on him. I wish they wouldn’t. I wish they would keep talking and acting normal. It’s so quiet that I fear he can hear me breathing. I try not to breathe, just in case.

  “I just always wondered about something,” Benjamin says between sips of his champagne. “All those years ago, when that poor boy’s parents were killed in a house fire—it was ruled an accident, but was it really? I was just wondering if there could have been some ancient family enemy who failed to kill Cole in that fire, and decided to try again, years later. That was my theory, anyway.”

  I look at Cole to see his reaction, but he is no longer focused on me. His eyes are staring over my head, focused on something in the distance. The expression on his face chills me to the bone. His features have become so hard set that he resembles a statue.

  “But perhaps that’s silly of me,” Benjamin says with a light laugh. “I must be reading too many mystery novels and watching too much CSI. I have a bit of an imagination, you know, and I like to fabricate wild theories.”

  “That’s interesting,” Rodriguez says quietly. “Maybe I should still look into that.”

  “You should,” Benjamin says. “I mean, isn’t it curious that the boy had no other family? No grandparents, no aunts or uncles or cousins, absolutely no one in the world? What happened to his whole family?”

  “I really couldn’t say,” Rodriguez responds. “The investigation never went in that direction.”

  “It sounds like they were systematically wiped out, to me,” Benjamin says. “Systematically. But what do I know? You’re the detective. This champagne is excellent, Miranda.”

  Cole’s muscles are all clenched so hard that his body is trembling slightly. He seems to be at the point of ripping off his beard and turning around to confronting Benjamin, but I grab his wrist to stop him. Still, he has turned halfway and exposed part of my body, namely the hand holding the mostly empty champagne glass.

  “Why don’t you introduce me to everyone at this party, Miranda?” Benjamin asks suddenly, as though he has seen my hand. “I don’t think we’ve all met. I think I see some new faces, but also some very familiar faces.” He pauses, and I hold the champagne glass closer to my body, trying to conceal every protruding limb. Benjamin continues. “There sure are some lovely ladies here today. And I think I recognize Ezra Bishop? An excellent lawyer, to be sure. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “Likewise,” says Mr. Bishop.

  As Benjamin moves through the party, I begin to grow anxious. Glancing down at my outfit, I observe the clothes and shoes that I selected from my old closet at Cole’s ho
use, and wish the little black cocktail dress covered more of my body. I could still run away in these shoes. Maybe while he’s distracted…

  “We haven’t met,” Zack says loudly. “You’re a senator? That’s so cool! I’m actually the guy who took down Cole’s killer. We had a crazy shootout at the cemetery, where I was helping Detective Rodriguez chase a lead. You should hear the story. It was insane! So we walked into the mausoleum and saw all these dead bodies. You would not believe how creepy it was. Putrid, decaying, rotting flesh—and that smell! I’ll never forget that smell. And I’ll tell you now, I’ve seen some awful things in Afghanistan, but that mausoleum—it was hands down the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. And let me tell you about the things I saw in Afghanistan…”

  Zack. Oh, thank god for Zack.

  As Cole realizes what he is doing and begins to guide me away, I send a quick look of acknowledgment and gratitude to Miranda and the detective. We silently and swiftly make our escape while Zack distracts Benjamin, by walking around Miranda’s house to my old car, which is parked in her driveway. My hand has already retrieved the keys from my purse, as I dive into the driver’s seat and turn it on. As soon as Cole is securely in the passenger seat, I drive away. Benjamin’s car is slightly blocking mine, so I have to drive on Miranda’s lawn. I resist the urge to tear off Benjamin’s bumper.

  “That was too close,” I say softly, once there is some distance between us and the house.

  “What was he saying about my family?” Cole asks.

  I shake my head, glancing over at him with concern. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he knows something? Was the fire not an accident?”

  Swallowing down a lump of fear, I remove my right hand from the steering wheel and place it on Cole’s leg, squeezing gently. “I think Benjamin is the king of bullshit, and making people uncomfortable. I think he was just messing with everyone there.”

  “Really?” Cole asks dryly. “Because it felt like he was messing with us. It felt like he was messing with you and me, specifically.”

  “I know. That’s exactly what he sounded like during Ricky’s interrogation.”

  “Scar. Do you think that somehow he knows—”

  “No,” I say firmly. “Please. Don’t say that. No.”

  “I just can’t help wondering—”

  “Please,” I say in a whisper.

  Cole nods and squeezes my hand.

  My lips are pressed together tightly in a hard line, and my heart is beating so hard I can feel my pulse in my ears and my fingers. I place both of my hands on the steering wheel, and I just keep driving. Does he know? I can’t bring myself to consider it. Should I have tried to get him alone at that party, and used the gun in my purse?

  “Detective Rodriguez, Agent Lopez, and Zack are all there,” Cole reminds me. “They will figure out what’s happening and let us know.”

  I nod. And I just keep driving. I know that I’m still running, but it feels different this time.

  Cole is with me now. I am no longer alone. He is all I need to get through this.

  He is more than enough.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Now I definitely don’t feel comfortable with you going alone,” Cole says again as we stand at the airport. He is still wearing his disguise to conceal his features from the cameras, along with a baseball cap and sunglasses. “Please let me come along. In fact, I am coming along anyway, whether you want me to or not.”

  “No,” I tell him. “Traveling is hectic and you need to rest. It will only be one day. I’m coming back as soon as I can.”

  “Then take Zack,” he tells me again. “Please, Scar. I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Of course, you have a bad feeling,” I say, rubbing his arm. “You keep getting shot every five minutes lately. Your whole body is covered in bad feelings.”

  “The bullets don’t bother me anymore,” he says softly. “I’m not afraid, Scar. When I heal up, I’m going to be healthier than I’ve ever been. I am going to get stronger than I ever was before.”

  “You’re already the strongest man I know,” I assure him. “You always have been, Cole. You come alive under pressure. You are solid, just like the houses you build—capable of surviving any disaster. And now, we’ve learned just how hard it is to take you down. I find it comforting.”

  “It is comforting—and I know you’re even more resilient than I am. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be so overprotective and worried.” He sighs. “It is such a worthwhile thrill to take a risk and survive—and accomplish something. It would have been easy to stay safe and avoid harm in Nevada. I’m sorry I was such a downer when we were holed away in the NovaTank. But you were right to make me leave. I love being around people. I love finding sneaky ways to keep doing my job. I love eating real food at restaurants instead of those disgusting MREs. Most of all, I love being with you… anywhere.”

  “Things are going to be different from now on,” I tell him. “We’re going to be unbreakable. This—me getting on a plane—this isn’t goodbye. I’m never going to run away from you again, so you don’t have to worry.”

  He nods. “I believe you, Scar.”

  When he wraps his arms around me, I sigh, relaxing and looking at other people in the airport. There are others who are embracing their loved ones and saying their farewells. There are siblings taking a final selfie together, and couples walking while holding hands and sluggishly pulling luggage behind themselves in obvious sadness that they have to part. Maybe they are long-distance lovers. Maybe someone has to go away on a business trip for a while.

  I’m one of these people again. I’m part of the world, part of humanity.

  I have Cole—someone to hug as I leave, someone to wait for me. Someone to turn back and wave to, someone to miss desperately every second we’re apart. Someone to text as the plane taxis down the runway. Someone to come back home to. Someone to rush to embrace as soon as I get off the plane.

  Someone who feels like home.

  I swear that I’ll never take him for granted again. I know that I can never feel about anyone as strongly as I do about Cole. I have tried. I could search my whole lifetime, or several lifetimes, and he would still be the greatest man I could ever find.

  Just how lucky am I to have had the pleasure of growing up with him?

  It was worth it all. It was worth it all to have zero family, and all those dreadful experiences in foster homes, if it led me to meeting him. It doesn’t really matter what I find when I fly to Michigan—I almost want to cancel the trip and stay here.

  I think that Cole is the only family I will ever need.

  He reaches up to touch my dark hair. “I really think you should stop dying your hair now, Scar. It raises your risk for cancer, you know.”

  “So does antiperspirant, but I don’t want go around smelling like a wet dog.”

  “You can get deodorant that’s free from propylene glycol,” he tells me.

  “But does it actually work?”

  “You’ll have to try it, then let me smell your armpits,” he says teasingly. “I would happily prefer that you stink like garbage left out in the sun than be unhealthy. You’re not allowed to get cancer and die. Ever. Those genetic tests we did said you had a higher possibility of getting breast or ovarian cancer than average. So maybe you shouldn’t be slathering that bad stuff all over your armpits, so close to your perfect breasts.”

  “Oh, is there a shortage of them in the world?” I ask him playfully.

  “Thanks to rising rates of breast cancer, yes.”

  “Well, my new brother is a doctor, so maybe I’ll ask his opinion about all these carcinogens,” I say. Then I smile nervously and lower my eyes.

  Cole moves closer to me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You’ll be fine, Scar. Hopefully, things go well with your brother—hopefully, this Liam is a good guy. Hopefully, we both gain a few new family members, so we can fly across the country for Christmas and Thanksgiving lik
e normal people. Or they can fly to us. I don’t know how to cook a turkey, but I can learn.”

  My eyes grow a little moistened as I imagine this. Christmas. I could have a family to spend Christmas with? It’s too much to bear. I know it shouldn’t make me so emotional, but just like Cole—I was robbed of my childhood.

  “I think it’s all uphill from here,” I say, hoping I can convince myself that it’s true. “I think the worst might really be over. I don’t have to hide anymore.”

  “That’s what we’ve been fighting for all along, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulls away slightly, suddenly serious. “Whatever happens when you meet this brother of yours, Scar, I want you to remember one thing. I am not your fucking brother anymore.”

  “No?” I ask him with a mischievous smile.

  Placing a finger under my chin, he lifts it until my lips are an inch away from his.

  “No,” he responds.

  Closing the distance, I press my lips against his, seeking stability from his kiss. I seek reassurance that he is really here, tasting him one last time before I have to get on my plane. His lips are soft and warm, like Christmas morning with a roaring fireplace and cozy pajamas. There is a lingering aroma of strong coffee on his lips. My favorite flavor.

  There is something different about Cole, now. Even back when he was a fragile, uncertain young boy, I loved him. But today, he feels hardened, weathered, and gnarled; he feels like pure strength. Every time I wrap my arms around him, I am amazed by the man that he has become. Maybe when the transformation was happening right before my eyes, it was so slow that I could not really detect what was happening. I was changing, too. But after a few years of separation, everything new about him is overwhelming.

  The person he has grown into fills me with awe. This person takes my breath away. Being this close to him, it even makes me a little shy, although I would never admit that to him—or anyone—in a million years.

  But I definitely like the feeling. It makes me want… more.

  He tightens his arms around me and kisses me like he means it. He kisses me until I’m dazed with bliss. He kisses me like he is never letting go, and I am definitely going to miss my flight. He kisses me like we are teenagers again, and this is the very first time. He kisses me like we are ancient souls, and have done this a thousand times before, throughout many lifetimes, spanning centuries. He kisses me like we are in a black and white movie, and he just rescued me from a creepy villain with a mustache.