Marx Girl

by T L Swan

  He laughs and holds me tighter to him, and we lay in blissful silence for a few moments until he turns the television on and flicks through the channels. He stops on the news.

  BREAKING NEWS

  In what can only be described as a gangland-style execution,

  U.S. diplomat, Jason Steel, and his wife, have been shot dead as they were leaving a restaurant in Washington, D.C. last night, in the midst of a crowded street.

  Authorities are treating it as a professional hit.

  They leave behind four children, all under ten years of age.

  I frown in horror.

  Dear God.

  “Fuck!” Ben snaps as he jumps out of bed.

  “What… what does this mean?” I stammer.

  “We’ve got a fucking problem.”

  “Are they going to come after us? Where’s the envelope?”

  “It’s here. I brought it with us.”

  I jump out of bed and put my hands on my head.

  “I’ve got to get Joshua to decipher it. I have no choice. I need to know what it says,” he snaps.

  I nod. “He can break the code, I know he can.”

  Ben’s phone rings; he looks at the name on the screen then answers it. He’s still naked.

  “Hello.”

  He listens and puts his hand on his hip. “What was taken?” he asks, narrowing his eyes as he listens.

  “What?” I mouth, sensing something is wrong.

  He ignores me. “Okay, thank you. I’m away at the moment, but if you can organise the door to be fixed I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  He listens for a moment.

  “Thanks for your call.” He hangs up.

  “What?” I ask.

  “My apartment was broken into last night. Ransacked, as if looking for someone or something.”

  My eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

  “Whoever killed Jason Steel… they know about the envelope.”

  Fuck.

  20

  Bridget

  “What do we do?” I ask as my nerves escalate.

  He stares at me for a moment, thinking. “Did you leave anything lying around at home about New York?”

  I think for a moment. Oh no. “I scribbled the flight times on the notepad on your desk.”

  “When you booked the flights, did you use my credit card like I told you?”

  I shake my head nervously. “No. I used mine.”

  “I told you to use mine!” he snaps.

  “I know, but I was taking you away. I didn’t want you to pay for your own birthday present.”

  He glares at me.

  “The hotel, Bridget. Tell me you booked the hotel with my card.”

  I wince and shake my head. “Nope, that’s in my name, too.”

  “Fuck!”

  He briefly disappears into the bathroom, then comes out carrying all my shampoo and makeup and throws it in my open suitcase.

  “Get dressed.”

  “What?” I frown.

  “Now!” he orders as he starts throwing everything into our suitcases in a frenzy.

  I start to run on the spot in a fluster. “Do you think they’re on their way here?”

  He looks up at me and he’s eyes have a steely calm about them. “Bridget, don’t freak out. Every moment we’re here, you’re in danger. Hurry the fuck up.”

  “Ah,” I cry as I start to run around the room frantically. I grab my wallet and phone charger. “Where do I put this?” I wail.

  He looks at me, deadpan. “In the fucking suitcase. Where do you think?”

  “Got it.” I run around, but don’t actually do anything productive.

  He throws his phone at me. “Log into my internet banking and transfer one-hundred-thousand dollars.”

  “What?”

  “Do it,” he growls.

  With shaking fingers, I hit the banking app on his phone. “What’s your password?” I ask.

  “Bridget,” he replies.

  My eyes rise to him and I smile broadly. “I’m your password?”

  He rolls his eyes, but he keeps packing, and he zips up his case at super speed.

  “You are so getting laid tonight.” I smile.

  “Bridget, we won’t fucking be alive tonight if you don’t get your shit together. Transfer the damn money now.”

  “Oh.” I fumble with the phone and nearly drop it. “What am I doing?”

  “Transfer one-hundred-thousand dollars from my savings into the other account.”

  He throws a pair of jeans on while I concentrate on my job. I click into the account.

  Savings $5,960,000.62

  Everyday $82,000.00

  I scowl. “What the hell? Why do you have so much money in your account?”

  He throws his T-shirt over his head. “For a rainy day. Hurry up.”

  I transfer the money, check it, and then double-check it again before I hit transfer. “Okay, done.” I look up at him and he zips the last suitcase up. “Now get your phone and write down the phone numbers you want.”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “We are leaving the sim card here. Hurry,” he growls.

  I grab my phone and scramble through it, writing down Mum’s , Tash’s, Abbie’s, and Adrian’s phone numbers.

  “Done?” he asks.

  I nod, and he takes my phone apart, removing the sim card, and puts it under the mattress. I grab my clothes and throw them on as I watch him do the same to his. I slip into my low heels.

  He glances down at my feet. “Get some comfortable shoes on.”

  I frown. “Why?”

  “Bridget… just fucking do it,” he growls.

  I screw up my face, in tears. “You’re scaring me,” I cry.

  His face softens with guilt and he grabs my hand in his. “Didge, let’s go, baby. It’s okay.” He tries to calm me. “You just need to hurry up.”

  I bend and quickly tie up the shoes of my runners. Ben opens the door and looks both ways. He holds his hand up for me to stay where I am.

  I hold my stomach as I try to control my racing heartbeat. Oh my God, oh my God.

  He grabs my hand and we walk out into the corridor, down to the lifts where he hits the button hard three times.

  “If we get separated go straight to a police station and call Brock and Joshua to come and get you. Don’t leave there without them,” he tells me quietly.

  My eyes widen in horror. “What’s going to happen?” I whisper.

  The elevator dings and he clenches his jaw, as if expecting something. My heart actually stops beating. I can feel the pause. The doors open to reveal an empty elevator and I close my eyes in relief. We get in and he pushes the button to the basement. I glance at him in question, but I hold my tongue.

  The elevator opens into the underground parking lot. He grabs my hand and we walk out, dragging our cases behind us.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “We’ll get a cab and go to the bank to withdraw some money. Then we’ll lay low for a couple of days,” he replies as he marches across the parking lot. I nearly have to run to keep up. “It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he adds.

  “Is it really fine?” I ask.

  His eyes flicker to me, and I instantly know it’s not.

  For fuck’s sake. I clench my jaw so hard it feels like I’m going to crack my back teeth.

  We walk over to the drive-through gates that open up onto a side street, and Ben hits the button. The security gate begins to slowly roll up.

  Please don’t let them find us, please don’t let them find us, I keep chanting in my head. We walk out onto the street and Ben hails a cab. Miraculously, one stops straight away, and we scramble into the back of it.

  “The closest Bank of America, please,” Ben instructs.

  The cab driver nods and pulls out into traffic. Ben puts his arm around me and then pushes my head down onto his lap.

  I frown, but he glares at me. Oh, he’s hiding me. Jeez. I thought he was trying to be
sexy. Oh, God. I’m an idiot.

  He then drops his head and puts his hand up to shield his face.

  Oh no, he must think they’re out there looking for us.

  “When we get to the bank, my wife will stay in the car with the bags, if you could just circle the block a few times, please?” he asks the driver.

  “Sure,” the driver replies.

  I grab Ben’s hand across the seat. “I want to come with you,” I whisper.

  “No. Stay here.” He glances out the window and then back to me. “You know what to do if we get separated.”

  I grab his hand and the cab pulls over.

  “Just circle the block; I’ll only be a moment.” He jumps out and runs across the road and I watch him disappear into the bank. The cab pulls back out into traffic and I drop my head. Oh, my God. How did this happen? Why did he go to the damn security box and get those papers?

  What was he thinking?

  Now he’s put us in danger and I have no fucking idea what’s going on. We circle the block a few times, and then finally I see him on the side of the road.

  “There… there he is,” I stammer in excitement. The driver pulls over and Ben runs across the road to jump into the backseat. He smiles and grabs my hand. “Can you take us to the Lombardy on 56th, please?” he asks the driver.

  “Sure thing.”

  I smile nervously at him, and moments later we pull into a driveway of a swanky hotel, and then make our way into reception. I stand beside Ben like a child, unsure what to say or do.

  “I would like a suite for seven days, please,” he says to the girl on concierge, calmly.

  “Of course.” She smiles warmly as she looks him up and down. Yeah, I’m right here, bitch. I look at her flatly. He’s married, you know.

  A satisfied smile crosses my face. He’s married to me.

  So, this is technically my honeymoon.

  I look around the luxury hotel and then glance down at myself. I look a mess and I must smell like sex. I haven’t even showered today. I drag my hand through my ratty hair, suddenly self-conscious.

  “I would like an adjoining single room, too, please… for my children,” he says calmly. “They will be joining us later tonight, with their nanny.”

  I glance up at Ben as he acts cool, calm, and collected. Some fucking honeymoon. Two rooms, fake children, real-life strangling of new husband by crazed new wife. This is just dandy.

  “Credit card, please.” She smiles.

  Ben slides a credit card over and I glance at the name on it. It’s the Jake Martin one he had. “I would like to pay in full now, please. Cash okay?” He takes out his wallet.

  A frown crosses her face before she recovers. “Of course, Mr. Taylor.” She types in the computer. “That will be three-thousand-six-hundred dollars.”

  He counts it out and hands her the cash.

  She shuffles through to check it. “I’m going to give you an upgrade to a two-bedroom suite.” She smiles.

  Ben nods. “Thank you.”

  I watch her work in silence. We get the keys, and minutes later we are walking up the hallway towards our room on the sixth floor. I would like to say that I notice my surroundings, but over the sound of the pounding of my poor heart, my brain can’t take in any more information. It’s luxurious, I can say that much.

  He opens the door and holds his hand out for me to take, but I walk past him and into the room.

  I’m annoyed. No, scratch that. I’m furious.

  I fold my arms angrily in front of me, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t,” he snaps.

  My eyes bulge from their sockets. “Don’t?” I hiss in return. “Oh, I do,” I sneer. “Why the hell did you go to that security box and get those documents?” I throw my up hands in despair. “This was none of our business, Ben.” I begin to pace back and forth as he puts the suitcases up to the rack and opens them.

  “This was my business. Something is going on and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on,” I spit. “You have two deranged fucking hit- men coming after you… and, technically, me, too, now, because they think we know what the information on that sheet means.”

  He clenches his jaw in anger as his eyes hold mine.

  “We can’t read the fucking sheet, Ben!” I hold my temples as I begin to pace again.

  “Calm down,” he groans.

  “I will not calm down. We have no idea what is going on, other than the fact that they wanted you dead and that they killed Jason Steele and his wife last night. Whatever is on that sheet is very fucking important. You need to call the police right now and tell them everything.”

  He rolls his eyes and walks into the bathroom. I storm in after him. He unzips his jeans and begins to take a pee.

  “Call… call the police,” I stammer as I point to the phone.

  “Do you mind?” he says dryly, gesturing down to his dick with his chin. “I’m hanging a piss.”

  My eyes bulge from their sockets. “For fuck’s sake, Ben. I’m going to hang you from the fucking shower. Will you listen to me?”

  “Bridget, you listen to me.” He finishes, zips up his pants, and washes his hands before he walks back out into the room. “The police won’t protect us.” He gets out the black case and unlocks it, taking three handguns out and laying them on the table.

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

  “I need to get you out of here, and then I’m going to take care of these two guys once and for all.”

  My face falls. “What are you going to do?”

  He picks up one of the guns and loads it. “I’m going to kill them.”

  I frown. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “Bridget—”

  I cut him off. “No, Ben, I’m not going anywhere while you’re in danger.”

  “I’m not in danger!” he snaps as he puts a gun in the back of the waistband of his jeans. “They are.”

  “I’m going to buy new prepaid sim cards for our phones, so I can call Joshua. You’re staying here,” he tells me.

  “No, I’m coming.” I grab my bag, suddenly petrified that something may happen to him.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I grab his arms. “Ben, please,” I beg. “You’re frightening me.”

  His face softens and he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I’m going to be twenty minutes, babe. Take a shower, order us some room service breakfast, and I’ll be back before it gets here.”

  I watch him with scared eyes.

  He kisses me softly. “You’re safer here. Please, just listen to me. If you never listen to me again for the rest of our lives, I don’t care, but right now, for the next little bit, I need you to trust me. It’s going to be all right, but you need to be out of sight. I need you safe.” His eyes hold mine. “Do you trust me, Bridget?”

  I nod nervously and he kisses me again. He goes to the table, picks up the gun he bought me, and passes it to me. “You remember how I taught you to use it?”

  I nod nervously as I stare at it in my hand.

  “I’m just going to find a phone shop and get our sim cards, so I can make some phone calls, okay? I’ll call it in to HQ as soon as I get back.”

  I continue to stare at the gun in my hand.

  “Babe?” he asks softly. “Don’t you go falling apart on me now, okay?”

  I look up at him through unshed tears. “It’s our honeymoon, Ben,” I whisper.

  His face falls. “This is a…” He frowns as he thinks. “It’s a temporary setback.” His lips take mine and his tongue gently sweeps past my lips. “Lock the door behind me and take a shower. We’re safe for the meantime.”

  I nod nervously.

  “Don’t answer the phone and don’t call anyone. Now, if someone comes to the door, don’t answer it. Look out through the peephole, and if it’s anyone suspicious, go into the adjoining room and lock the door between the rooms.” He goes to the door between the two rooms an
d opens it to show me.

  I nod.

  “Bridget.” His eyes hold mine for a moment. “If anyone comes into this room, you shoot to kill. No fucking around.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Angel?”

  I nod. “Just go so you can get back quicker, please,” I whisper.

  He brushes my hair back from my forehead and looks down at me lovingly. “I won’t be long.”

  I nod as I try to hold back my tears. “I love you,” I whisper.

  He kisses me. “I love you, too. Lock the door behind me.” He walks over to the door, looks out the peephole, and then opens it. “See you soon.” He disappears and I turn the two locks on the door.

  My stomach rolls and I feel sick. I look around at the swanky room, and I shake my head as I try to pull myself together.

  Take a shower. Yes, take a shower. I walk into the bathroom, completely on autopilot, and I turn on the water.

  What a hectic twenty-four hours.

  I glance at the clock, just like I have done every minute for the last thirty minutes.

  Where is he?

  It’s been ninety minutes and Ben’s still not back.

  I walk over to the window and look out onto the street below.

  Has something gone wrong?

  Shall I call the police? He said not to use the phone, though. Fuck, this is such a mess.

  My stomach is churning.

  I shouldn’t have let him go; I should have made him stay here with me.

  It’s 10:43. At what time do I panic? I walk into the bathroom and dry-retch into the toilet. My stomach lurches as it tries to rid itself of the excess stomach acid. I scrunch up my face.

  The door chain bangs and my eyes widen. Someone is trying to get in.

  I hold my breath as I peer out the bathroom door, and I see the door open a few inches, the safety chain blocking it from opening completely.

  “It’s me,” Ben calls.

  “Fuck,” I cry as I run to let him in. “Are you okay? I’ve been frantic,” I whisper.

  He kisses me quickly on the lips. “I’m fine, babe.” He has three large bags and he throws them on the bed. He looks me up and down and puts his hands on his hips. “Are you okay?”