by Lena Bourne
The angry glare Sam shoots him actually makes him recoil. “She’s a fiery one, isn’t she? No wonder she was so popular.”
“Go now, Sam,” I tell her, ignoring Ian, though I’m gonna make him sorry he talked to her like this before our little reunion is over.
“OK, alright,” Sam whispers. “I’ll see you soon.”
She’s not crying yet, but her eyes are very moist and her voice sounds like she swallowed a lump of something hard.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say and release her. She nods, then walks across the parking lot to her car very slowly, looking back every few steps. If Ian wasn’t such an unpredictable lunatic, I’d have her stay for this. But it’s probably better to go along with whatever he has in mind.
I nod again once she’s at the car, and she smiles, but very sadly, and very slowly. Then she takes off, fast like she’s running away.
I turn to Ian who’s looking after her car with a half smile on his lips. “Nice ride. And you should thank me right now for letting her go. Shade wants her dead bad.”
Ian’s pissed me off plenty of times before, made me livid the way few people or things can. But the rage boiling inside me now tops all those times hands down. And since I don’t have to worry about Sam getting hurt, there’s nothing stopping me from beating the crap out of him anymore.
“What the fuck do you really want, Ian?”
He chuckles, and starts walking towards his car. “Let’s get out of this heat first. Then we’ll talk.”
I don’t want to cause a scene in front of my mother’s hospice. And that’s the only reason I follow him to the car.
Chapter Twenty
SAMANTHA
I don’t regain full control of my thoughts until I’m on the highway, speeding towards LA. My hands are still shaking as I pull into a gas station to buy one of those prepaid phones like I should’ve done before now. Then Brett would have my number. And I’d have his. He could’ve just told me his number in the parking lot. I would’ve remembered it. Why didn’t I think of that? But it all happened so fast, so unexpectedly. I feel like I’ve been abducted all over again. But I wasn’t. Brett was, and I will do all I can to save him. To help him. To make sure Shade never sends anyone after him or me ever again. To destroy Shade like I should’ve done from the start, because I will never be safe from him if I don’t.
So it’s not Randy I call, or my dad, or Tara for that matter. I call the prosecutor, the one in charge of the case against Shade.
“Ms. Di Marco, where have you been?” she asks without even a hello first, as soon as her secretary connects me to her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Is there still time? Can I still testify?”
I hold my breath as I wait for her answer, my hands still shaking. I’ve lost all control to make them stop.
“Yes, I’ve delayed the proceedings, hoping you would return in time,” she says sternly. “But you need to be here tomorrow.”
“Good.” I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Because I have more information to share, things I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“You do? What information?” she asks, and I can hear the excitement behind her stern tone.
I tell her about the mass grave Shade took me to in the desert, the rotting corpse he unearthed to frighten me. Despite the blinding sunshine, my vision’s growing dark as I tell her everything. Describe it all.
The gravesite was on a hilltop just outside the city, the Las Vegas skyline visible in the distance. The lights were flashing, but it was so quiet, so very quiet I felt like I was dead already. I describe to her the crazy look in Shade’s eyes as he dug, the feel of his fingers around the back of my neck, as he pushed me down so that my face was just an inch away from the dead woman’s face. I can still remember the smell of rotting flesh perfectly. I’ll never forget it. I smell it now. Her skin was black, but I could see the outline of her features, and her bleached blonde hair was matted with dirt and rotting skin. I’m physically sick by the time I finish speaking. Ready to throw up.
“Where are you right now?” the prosecutor asks in a very somber tone once I stop talking. She didn’t interrupt me once.
“Just outside of Phoenix, Arizona.”
I can hear her typing something on her computer in the background. “Go to Phoenix, to the FBI headquarters there. I’ll arrange for agents to meet you, and I’ll come myself on the next flight.”
“Don’t you need me at the trial?”
“I’ll get a continuance,” she says. “This is huge. They recently unearthed a mass grave near Las Vegas. Twenty-five bodies. Women killed over the last fifteen years. If this is the place you’re talking about, then we got him. We got him for a very long time.”
“We do?” I ask, the tightness in my chest finally lifting. It’s all I wanted. Shade out of the way, so he can hurt no one else. Not me, not Brett, and not my sister or Tommy.
“Go there now,” she says and proceeds to tell me the address.
And I’m finally breathing right again as I speed off to Phoenix. Shade is going down for good. That guy who took Brett will learn about it soon enough, then he’ll let Brett go, because there will be no reason to hold him anymore and that damn MC of theirs will finally be destroyed completely.
BRETT
“I’m done waiting, Ian,” I say once we’re driving. “What’s this shit about?”
He’s not saying anything, just humming along to the music. If we hurry with this, I can still catch Sam.
“I need a drink, don’t you?” he says, looking at me as he makes a right turn into a street that’s lined with shops and restaurants not far from the hospice. That damn crazy gleam is still in his eyes.
He stops in front of a bar with darkened windows, looks me up and down as we get out of the car. “This place might be fancy enough for this new look of yours. We don’t want you getting beaten up for looking like a pansy, now do we?”
“I’ll worry about that,” I say and walk to the bar, holding the door open for him. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
“So you can hook up with that gorgeous piece of ass again?” he asks, preceding me into the bar. “I don’t blame you. Even if she is used goods.”
I grab him by the back of the collar and yank him back, twisting the fabric so it’s choking him as I look down into his face. “Never talk about Samantha like that again, do you understand?”
There’s shock in his eyes, but it’s faint under all the crazy. He’s surprised though. I steer clear of getting into fights with my friends, and he knows it. He also knows I’ve rendered guys unconscious with a single punch.
“Alright, point taken, Brett,” he croaks. “You love her or something. I’ll only say nice things about her from now on.”
I let him go, since we’re already causing a scene, though apart from a bored looking waitress, the bartender and a couple of business men, we’re the only ones in here. He massages his neck dramatically all the way to a table at the back of the bar.
“She’s the whole reason there’s no more MC though,” he says after we sit down.
“Take that up with Tommy,” I snap, waving the waitress over to hurry this along.
Ian gets a double scotch, but I just order a beer, since I want to stay alert for this. He remains silent even after the waitress brings our drinks and retreats back to her stool by the bar.
“I’m losing my patience,” I say warningly.
“Fine, fine,” he says, but takes a swallow of his drink before continuing.
“I need a favor,” he finally utters.
The last time I did him a favor, I ended up shooting and killing a security guard during a heist he planned and executed very badly.
“Can’t you use the fucking phone?” I ask.
He chuckles at that. “You’d just say no over the phone.”
“But in person it’s different?”
He pushes his tumbler to the side of the table and leans over it. “Shade told me to kil
l that girl on sight, put a bullet between her eyes is how he put it, but what did I do? I let her go. That’s not even the first favor I did for you lately.”
He’s even talking crazy now. “What favor? When’d you even talk to Shade?”
“He relayed his message via the usual channels. Said that any member who finds that bitch and kills her would be well taken care of, so I volunteered. The rest were more interested in laying low anyway.”
“How the hell did you even get out of prison? Did you escape?”
He shakes his head. “After our dear and oldest friend decided to betray us all, I was suddenly facing a life sentence. Did you know that? Because Tommy sure did when he blabbed to the Sheriff. And it didn’t get any better after I put that motherfucker Slim in a coma for suggesting I was in on it. But you see, the damage was done. They think since me and Tommy were so tight, I must’ve had something to do with it. And you’re in the same boat, by the way.”
I figured as much. “Tommy did a fucked up thing. But I’ve chosen to move on. Get to the point, Ian.”
“OK, to make a long story short, I asked myself what would my dear friend Tommy do in my place,” he says. “So I gave the cops some names, told them some facts, wore a few wires, and now I’m free. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?” I’m forced to ask, since his pause just lasts and lasts.
“I told them you weren’t involved in that cursed Indian casino heist, so you’re completely off the hook for that murder,” he says, smiling smugly and leaning back. “I said Ten was the shooter. The poor guy’s been in a coma since that fire at Crystal’s, and he’s probably never gonna wake up. He should go out with some glory. Even if it’s made up.”
“And they just took your word for it?” I ask, trying not to get too excited by this news. Knowing Ian, it could all be a lie.
“I gave them some very good, actionable information about other things. And you being a veteran and a decorated war hero, they really wanted to believe you were innocent. You’re welcome to check,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “But once I get my hands on Tommy, he’s gonna pay for making me do all that.”
That’s some classic Ian logic right there. And the most fucked up part is that he’s completely serious. I’d remind him that he snitched to, but I really just want to get to this favor part.
“So now you figure I owe you?” I ask. “Because I wouldn’t be in that mess if it weren’t for your poor planning skills. And I fucking saved your life killing the guard.”
“Well, yes, I suppose—“
“What do you want?” I interrupt.
“Tell me where Sara’s hiding and we’re even,” he says.
Is that all? Could I be this lucky? Knowing Ian, there’s probably more.
It sounds like the simplest fucking thing in the world, but Sara’s last words to me were, “Don’t ever tell Ian where I am”.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” I say, watch the expression on his face change from that crazy half smile to an angry snarl. That’s classic Ian too. His mood can change in a flash.
“Yeah, I fucking know that. I’m gonna change her mind, but first I need to know where she is.”
I lean back in my chair and finish the rest of my beer. This needs some thinking about before I decide.
“Look, Brett,” he says more calmly, the snarl gone, but his face is still red and a vein on his forehead is still pulsing. “I know she said she doesn’t want to ever see me again, but she’s said that before and she always took me back. I had a lot of time to think in prison. I love her and only her, and I will do what it takes to get her back. Then I’ll do what it takes, so she’ll stay with me. Just give me her address. I know you have it. You two were always tight, and it made me crazy jealous. But I trusted you, because we were brothers. We’re still brothers, aren’t we?”
I could sit here and argue, insist Sara never wants to see him again, and that I can’t betray her trust. But I don’t see the point. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can go back to Sam. And if what Ian is saying, that I’m no longer wanted is true then there’s precious little left to worry about. As for betraying Sara’s trust…well, she’s taken Ian back so many times, it’s hard to tell what she actually wants. Maybe she just wants him to work really hard to find her. She always liked it when he’d bend over backwards to earn her forgiveness.
“I don’t have her home address, but she works as an accountant for Cameron and Smalls in Phoenix.” I have her home address too, but keeping that from him is the least I can do just in case I’m wrong, and she really doesn’t want to see him again.
“Cameron and Smalls, that huge multinational?” he asks, searching for something on his phone. “I knew she moved to Phoenix, I just knew it.”
It’s where her family was originally from, so it wasn’t so hard to figure out. But I don’t say it, just watch as he dials the company number. He puts the phone on speaker, asks to speak to Sara once the receptionist picks up. Sara’s voice comes on, and he hangs up.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” I ask.
“Because what I have to say to her should be done in person,” he says, and gets up, patting me on the arm. “Thanks, Brett!”
And then he starts walking out. I’m happy he’s letting me go, but I have no money and no ride.
“Ian!” I call after him, but he’s already at the door, and doesn’t turn.
So I run after him, ignore the bartender’s angry yell that we haven’t paid.
By the time I reach the parking lot, Ian’s already pulling out. Classic crazy Ian. He just left me stranded with no money and no car on the outskirts of Phoenix. But he also made me a free man, so I can’t be too angry with him.
Chapter Twenty-One
SAMANTHA
Between all the questioning and the waiting, and Tara not picking up her phone, I still haven’t been able to tell them my new number to give to Brett. I’m in some apartment in Phoenix, two FBI agents outside my bedroom, two more outside the door.
I’m calling Tara for like the thousandth time today, and this time I finally hear her voice.
“Tara, have you heard from Brett?” I say right away.
“Sam, is that you?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Has Brett called you at all?”
“I’ll check,” Tara says, and I’m so glad she knows me well enough not to pester me for more details when I’m this agitated.
I can hear her ask Tommy whether Brett called and I can hear him say no quite clearly, so there really was no need for her to repeat it.
“Give him my number, OK? This number, the one I’m calling from now,” I say.
“How did you get separated?“ Tara asks, worry lacing her voice. “Are you still in Mexico?”
“No, I’m in Arizona. We were visiting his mother and then some guy came and dragged him away, he had a gun, and he said Shade sent him to kill me, but then he just let me go. But he took Brett with him.”
“Are you safe now?” Tara asks shrilly. “Where are you?”
“With the FBI, don’t worry about me, I’ll make sure Shade never gets out of prison again,” I assure her.
I can hear Tara relay the message to Tommy, who says, “What the fuck?” really loudly.
“Here, talk to Tommy,” Tara says and a moment later Tommy asks, “Where’s Brett?”
“I don’t know. Some guy dragged him off at gunpoint. I’ve never seen him before,” I say. “He was tall and blonde, and he looked like some model…Brett called him Ian.”
“That crazy motherfucker!” Tommy yells, and my heart starts racing so hard I feel it in my throat.
“Is…is that bad? Brett will be OK, right? He said he’ll be OK, that I don’t have to worry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’s gonna be fine,“ Tommy says a lot more calmly. ”Did Ian say what he wanted?”
“No.” My head’s spinning, and I don’t know what to think anymore. “Give my number to Brett when you speak to him,
OK? This number.”
He says he will, then hands phone back to Tara, tells her to tell me they’ll be on the next flight to LA. And she relays the message, but there was no need because I heard it clearly.
“Why couldn’t you come before?” I ask her and she goes very quiet, although her breathing rate is picking up by the second.
“We’ll talk about it when I get there, OK?” I only heard my sister cry a handful of times, but I’m certain she’s about to, so I don’t press her on it.
So we just stay on the line for awhile, listening to each other breathe.
“Why are you in Phoenix?” she asks eventually, her voice under control again.
“We’ll talk about it when you get here,” I say, but with a smile, since I don’t want to be difficult. I was told not to discuss what I’m actually doing in Phoenix until it’s official. Whatever that means. Though we probably won’t talk about it, since I never want to discuss what I’m actually doing here, or tomorrow’s trip to Vegas ever again.
I try to sleep after we say goodbye, but it’s hard without Brett here to lean on. He’s the best sleeping pill I’ve ever known and I need one right now, because I won’t sleep without it. But then again, I haven’t needed a pill for awhile now, so maybe I don’t. What I really need is Brett here beside me. Of all the phone numbers I’ve memorized, I managed not to memorize his. But I’ll fix that oversight the moment he calls me.
BRETT
My phone’s battery dies as I’m dialing Tommy’s number to get Sam’s and tell him what happened. The charger for my phone is in Samantha’s car, and I have a grand total of less than six dollars left in my wallet.
Going to see my mom is the only option. But what seemed like a short drive in Ian’s car, turns into a long walk. Now I’m standing in the parking lot of the hospice in the evening heat, sweaty and dirty, the wound in my side throbbing. But the sky is dark purple and pink, the sun just a tiny orange ball as it sinks into the horizon over the desert, and I wonder if mom’s awake, watching it. She should be, because there’s nothing quite like it.