by Zoey Parker
And what would he do with me once he didn't need me around anymore?
I listened carefully in the dark until I was pretty sure I heard Rafe's breathing slow down, indicating that he'd dozed off. Then I carefully got out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me before I fumbled for the light switch.
When my eyes focused on the toilet, my stomach clenched and I fell to my knees, retching. I tried to stay quiet as I dry-heaved. I could feel all the blood rushing to my face and my entire body was vibrating like a tuning fork. I'd been through too much. I couldn't possibly go on.
Except that I have to, I thought. I don't have a choice. So I'd better consider my options.
When my stomach stopped lurching, I stood up, closed the lid of the toilet, and sat on it. I wanted to believe that absolutely everything Rafe had told me was a lie, including the part about the cops being in on this. I wanted to believe that I could sneak out tonight, find a well-lit public place like an all-night grocery store or diner, tell an employee what had happened, and have them call the police to come pick me up before Rafe could catch up to me.
I wanted to believe that. But I couldn't quite bring myself to.
Because if I was wrong about that, there was no telling what the cops would do to me just to prevent me from going on the record and saying Angelo had killed someone. I'd read in the news about witnesses dying before gangland trials. It happened. It could happen to me.
So you stay in a motel room with a criminal all night and just hope for the best? I thought. That doesn't seem like a safe plan.
On the other hand, Angelo and his associates had already shot at me twice in one day. If Rafe had wanted to hurt me, he'd had plenty of chances to do it by now. It seemed like he just wanted information from me.
Besides, just because he rode a bike and had been to prison didn't automatically make him dangerous, did it? Plenty of people who weren't dangerous had been to prison.
Oh, sure, I thought, snickering inwardly. Yeah, lots of innocent bikers just happen to get sent to prison, probably just for picking daisies from a restricted garden or something. Get real, Jewel. Are you sure this isn't about the peek you got at his abs earlier, and those soulful brown eyes he's been looking at you with? Are you really trying to sell yourself on some bad-boy-with-a-heart-of-gold fantasy?
I had to admit to myself that I was extremely attracted to him, which was one of the main reasons I was having trouble seriously considering just running off into the night. Even though some of the things he'd said and done had scared me a little, the fact remained that as a person, he didn't seem really scary at all. It wasn't just that he was the most handsome and well-built man I'd ever met, although he certainly was. There was an energy about him that almost seemed magnetic. He'd just stepped in and protected me, and something about that felt strangely natural to me.
And again, people were clearly trying to kill me. And it seemed like he was the only one tough enough to stop them from doing it.
Ugh, I could drive myself insane going around in circles like this, I thought. My head was starting to ache.
I remembered the long green duffel bag I'd seen him come back with after he'd talked to Chucky. Whatever was going on, I was sure that what was inside would offer a clue and tell me how deep the trouble was that I'd gotten into. I had to try to see.
I clicked off the light and slowly opened the bathroom door again, listening for Rafe's breathing. It still sounded slow enough to indicate that he was sleeping. I crept over to the duffel bag and crouched down, staring at it.
I pictured all the things that might be in it. What if it was filled with bundles of hundred-dollar bills, stolen from some bank? What if there were bricks of cocaine, or tightly-packed bags of meth or marijuana?
For a moment I pictured unzipping the bag and seeing the eyes of a dozen or more severed heads staring up at me. I felt a hysterical laugh climb up my throat and swallowed it down again.
I summoned all the courage I had left—which didn't feel like much—gripped the handle of the zipper, and gently coaxed it open. At first, I couldn't see anything but blackness beyond the zipper. I gingerly pulled the canvas apart, leaning closer.
The picture on the TV screen behind me changed to something brighter, and the light reflected on the black metal object in the bag. It looked like a machine with a switch on the side, but I couldn't see enough of it to determine what it was. I got a faint whiff of something that smelled like motor oil. I pulled more of the canvas aside for a better look and reached inside to run my fingers along its surface.
When I saw the trigger and the drum of ammunition next to it, I yanked my hand away from it as though I'd accidentally touched a hot stove.
It was a gun. A big one.
The lights from the TV continued to dance along the shiny metal, highlighting its polished grooves. I realized the smell was probably gun oil.
If the bag had been filled with lots of guns, that would have made more sense. It might have meant that Rafe was into something involving illegal firearms, either buying or selling them. Maybe that wouldn't have been wonderful, but it still would have been something I could understand and use to gauge how much of an outlaw he might be.
But even I knew that gun-runners probably didn't sell off their merchandise one at a time. So if Chucky had just given Rafe one big gun, what could that mean?
It probably means there's someone he needs to kill, I thought. Still think he's not dangerous?
I thought about his eyes again. They looked like the eyes of someone who'd do whatever it took when it came to self-defense. Someone who may have crossed some lines in life that I'd never even encountered before.
But the eyes of a cold-blooded murderer? Someone who'd hurt a woman to get what he needed? No. I hadn't seen that in his eyes at all.
Or maybe I just hadn't wanted to.
I zipped the bag up again and stood up. As I turned around to go back to bed, I misjudged the distance in the darkness and my toe smacked against the bottom of the bed frame. Before I could stop myself, I let out a yelp of pain, losing my balance.
I reached out to steady myself and my hand found Rafe's shoulder, grabbing it tightly before realizing what it was. I yelped again and then clapped my hand over my mouth, embarrassed. I'd forgotten to listen for his breathing, and now he'd stood up and walked over to me without me hearing it. I wondered how long he'd been awake.
“You okay?” Rafe asked. His face was so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.
“Um, ow, yeah,” I said, my teeth clenched in pain. “Ow. Stubbed my toe. Hard. Ow, ow, ow.”
“Damn,” he replied. “I hate when that happens.”
My hand was still on his shoulder, and I turned to look at him. Our eyes met and I studied his again, looking for clues that would tell me who this man was. I saw a mixture of emotions in those eyes. Amusement. Concern. Exhaustion.
And desire.
I wondered what he saw in mine.
“Do you want me to get you some ice for that?” Rafe asked. Our faces were inches apart and now I could feel his breath on my lips. My face was hot, my stomach felt fluttery, and I felt myself getting wet.
It seemed crazy after the day I'd had, and I tried to tell myself that different people's bodies just react weirdly to stress. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. Just being so close to that beautifully-sculpted body with its broad shoulders made me want to lean against Rafe and feel his arms encircle me.
I had an urge to lean in closer. I wanted to know whether he'd kiss me if I did.
“No,” I whispered. “No ice. Thank you.”
We both stood there for a long moment before Rafe said, “You should probably try to get some more sleep. We'll have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow.”
I wanted to know what that meant, but I was too tired to ask any more questions. I wasn't even sure I could handle any more answers that night.
I took my hand off his shoulder and went back to bed.
I waited to hear his breathing slow down again, but it didn't.
After a while, I drifted off.
Chapter 12
Jewel
I opened my eyes and saw a round black void staring back at me. There was a massive black gun just inches away from my face.
“Where is it?” a muffled voice whispered.
The barrel of the gun filled my entire field of vision. It seemed impossibly large, like a cannon. As I gazed helplessly down its cavernous maw, I was certain I could see the bullet at the back, poised, ready to spring forward with the squeeze of a trigger and bury itself in my body. I felt like I could even sense its eagerness to do what it was built for and pierce my flesh.
I desperately wished for Rafe to come charging through the door and stop this. Where was he?
“Where is it?” the voice demanded again.
I drew in a deep, trembling breath and spoke with lips numb from fear. “Please, I don't know what you want...”
The gun pulled back and my eyes went to the face of the man holding it. He was wearing a terrifying porcelain mask painted to resemble a jolly face with smiling red lips and rosy circles on the cheeks. The eyes that stared out from within the mask blazed with insane hatred. He had a bizarre three-pointed hat on with ribbons and bells dangling from it. When he moved, the bells jittered around without making a sound.
It was him. The monstrous gangster Rafe had told me about. Jester.
He'd found me.
Jester pressed the huge gun against my left knee. The hand that held the black gun looked like it was encased in solid gold. Behind Jester, I could see Angelo and the other gunman from the alley, leering at me. They had blood all over their suits and their faces were painted to resemble horrifying clowns. Maggot's bullet-riddled corpse was lying face-down at their feet, his blood and brains oozing into the carpet.
“You know what we want,” Jester's muffled voice insisted. “Tell us where it is.”
I suddenly noticed that I was naked, even though I thought I'd remembered going to bed with my clothes on. I stared at them helplessly, tears streaming down my face. Did I know what they wanted? Was it just that I couldn't remember? I was so confused. “Don't hurt me!” I begged. “I don't know!”
The gun in Jester's hand went off with an apocalyptic thunderclap, the muzzle flash reflecting dazzlingly against the golden hand that held it. Oddly, there was no pain, but I felt my kneecap explode into a thousand shards of bone. I looked down and saw that the gunshot had been powerful enough to detach my leg at the knee.
I started to scream. The door to the room opened and I looked over, hoping it was Rafe coming to save me. Instead, the old man from the next room stood in the doorway, shaking his head with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Told ya to keep that racket down,” he grumbled. “Now look at ya.”
The gun pressed against my right knee. “Where is it?” Jester asked, tilting his head to one side inquisitively. Before I could answer he pulled the trigger, blasting off my other leg, lighting up the whole room with another golden flash. I looked down at the stumps as they gushed blood onto the blanket.
“Might improve the look of it,” the old man said. “The smell, too, for that matter.” Chucky appeared behind him, nodding solemnly.
Jester pressed his gun against my left shoulder. “Where is it?”
“Milwaukee!” I blurted out. “They said you'd know where!”
Jester shook his head slowly and pulled the trigger again. Another thunderclap, accompanied by a golden blaze like sunlight. My shot-off arm was laying on the bed next to me, still twitching as it bled.
I shrieked Rafe's name at the top of my lungs, pleading for him to save me. Angelo laughed. “Rafe's right here for you, doll!” he said, nudging Maggot's body with his shoe. It flopped over onto its back and I saw that the dead face was Rafe's.
I felt something press hard against my right shoulder and yelped, waking up. Rafe had been nudging my shoulder, and when I cried out and sat up, he jumped back a bit. “Jesus! You okay?”
I looked down to make sure I was dressed and in one piece. “Yeah,” I said. “Just a nightmare. A bad one.”
Rafe nodded. “After everything you've been through so far, I ain't surprised,” he replied. “But hey, I've got some good news for you, at least. There's been no sign of any Mancusos, so it looks like they're not chasing us anymore. Since they've got no way of knowing who you are, it should be okay for you to head back to Chicago, as long as you keep a low profile.”
I couldn't believe it. “Oh my God. So it's really over? I'm safe?” I asked.
“You should be, yeah,” Rafe agreed.
I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. “Good. My boss is probably wondering why I didn't show up for work today, but I can still smooth that over as long as I come in today.” Inwardly, I was already trying to invent a plausible-sounding excuse. I realized that this was probably the last thing that should have been on my mind, but I couldn't help it. This was my first job. If I got fired from it, I was worried that I'd never find a second one.
“A couple things, though,” Rafe added. “Don't tell the cops or anyone else what you saw. Don't even tell your close friends.”
“I, uh, don't really have any of those,” I said.
“Also, don't go to any bars or clubs, in case the Mancusos happen to be hanging out there,” Rafe continued. “I'd even stay out of fancy restaurants for a while, too. Especially Italian ones.”
I couldn't help but laugh at that. “I never go to bars or clubs,” I said. “They're not my thing. And I don't go to many fancy restaurants either, since I can't afford them.” Inwardly, I kicked myself. I was making myself sound like a completely boring person at best and a shut-in at worst.
Rafe smiled. It was the first genuine smile I'd seen on his face and I liked it a lot. Even though he looked young, the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit. I thought about our almost-kiss last night and felt myself blush. I had expected myself to come to my senses in the light of day and stop fantasizing about him. Instead, the fantasies kept spinning in my head—our bodies pressed together, his lips exploring mine.
I'd never had these kinds of thoughts before about someone I'd just met, and in the context of the gunshots and chases, they had initially seemed like bizarre symptoms of shock. But now that he'd told me the danger seemed to be over, looking into his brown eyes and feeling myself want him seemed perfectly natural.
“Okay, so no bars, no clubs, and no fancy restaurants,” Rafe ticked off. “So what kinds of places do you like to go, then?”
“Actually,” I confessed, “I like to go to little no-name diners. There are so many of them in the city, even twenty-four-hour ones. There's something so comforting about the big laminated menus with the pictures, and the smells coming from the kitchen, and the fact that you can get a greasy breakfast at any time of day. Whenever I'm lonely or I can't sleep, I just slide into a booth with a good book and order pancakes and a milkshake, or a big sloppy burger with fries. The waitresses all call me honey or darlin', and the other customers leave me alone. I love it. Sometimes it even feels more like home than my real home does.”
Rafe smiled again. Perversely, now that it this adventure was about to be over, I felt like I was going to miss the chance to get used to that smile. The thought gave me a weird twinge of regret.
“Well, how about this?” Rafe offered. “There's a diner just up the road. I've been there a couple of times, and I can personally vouch for how big and sloppy the burgers are.” I giggled, and his smile widened as he continued. “So how about I treat you to a nice, artery-clogging breakfast, and then give you a ride back to Chi? After all the shit you've had to deal with, it's the least I can do.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “That sounds perfect.”
At last, I thought. Everything can go back to normal.
Chapter 13
Rafe
After the weirdly-close moment I'd had with Jewel after she'd stubbed her toe, I wasn't able to sleep any more
, which was good. I was already cursing myself for dozing off in the first place when I was supposed to be looking out for the Mancusos.
Still, I had my handgun right next to me and I'd always been a light sleeper. All it would have taken to wake me up was a hand trying the doorknob, and I'd have been up and ready. Plus, I knew Chucky would be awake in the front office, watching out for headlights and suspicious-looking people.
By the time the first rays of sunlight peeked around the curtains, I was starting to feel pretty damn certain that no one was coming for us. If the Mancusos had been that serious about finding us, they'd have sent their guys to poke around every motel up the highway and they'd have reached us by now. My guess was that at this point, they were probably mostly concerned with keeping Angelo out of jail by trying to establish an alibi for him.