by B. B. Hamel
She laughed. “What the hell is that?”
“That is a nineteen seventy-two Ford Mustang with a brown vinyl top, beautiful gray body, and a fat fucking engine.”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Okay, fine. Just for a chance to ride in that car.”
“All the ladies say that.”
She tapped her phone and followed me over to the car. We got inside and I fired the engine up, letting it roar to life. It was my pride and joy, and really the only thing that I gave a fuck about back home. I always looked forward to driving her after a tour, and this tour was no different.
I pulled out into traffic and we headed toward the city.
“It’s a really cool car,” Piper said.
“My dad gave it to me.”
“Really? What’s your dad do?”
“He died when I was ten. But he left me the car. I restored it when I was in high school, so I guess it has sentimental value to me now.”
“That’s amazing,” she said. “I didn’t know you were good with cars.”
“I’m just good with my hands.” I glanced at her, smirking. “As I’m sure you recall.”
She sighed. “I was wondering how long it would take you before you brought that up.”
“Not very long, clearly.”
“Okay, well, it’s out there now. We can move on.”
“Sure, we can move on. Although now I know you’re going to be thinking about that night for the rest of the car ride home.”
She shook her head. “Not even a little bit. I have a boyfriend.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t matter to you?”
“It does, actually. I respect you and your relationship. It’s the only reason I haven’t pulled this car over yet and let you feel for yourself how good I am with my hands.”
She bit her lip and looked out the window, lapsing into silence. I drove like that for a while, smiling to myself, having a great time. Nothing was better than driving my car with a beautiful woman by my side, even if she had a boyfriend.
As we got closer to the city, she finally spoke up again. “When did you get back?”
“Two weeks ago,” I said.
“Any plans to disappear again?”
“No,” I said. “Not anytime soon, at least.”
“So I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other. Since we’re both friends with Greg and Lauren.”
“Seems that way.”
“We should try and be civil.”
“We aren’t being civil?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” I paused for a second. “I saw you on TV the other night.”
She laughed. “Really? I didn’t think you watched local cable news.”
“I don’t, not usually at least. I wanted to see you.”
“How did I do?”
“Great. You read the weather and didn’t mess up a single time.”
She laughed. “That’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
“Do you do all the forecasting yourself?”
“Computers do it mostly,” she admitted. “But yeah, as much as any person forecasts the weather. I still do all that stuff.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” I said, and meant it.
“Not as impressive as being a Navy SEAL.”
“There are more SEALs than there are weather people.”
“That’s probably true.” She laughed. “Never thought of it that way.”
“Anyway. How’d you meet your boyfriend?”
She paused. “Through work.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You don’t really care about him.”
“Nah. I don’t.” I grinned at her. “Do you?”
“Of course,” she said, looking surprised.
“The guy did ditch you.”
“He had work.”
“Sure, he did.”
She sighed. “Don’t be an asshole already, Gates.”
“Can’t help myself.”
“Sure you can. Just try.”
“Not with you, I can’t.” I paused then smirked at her. “For some reason you bring the worst out in me.”
“Same with me,” she muttered.
“I make you want to be bad, don’t I?”
She glared at me. “I have a boyfriend,” she said. “You respect that, remember?”
“Of course. It’s just an innocent question.”
“There’s nothing innocent about you.”
“Damn right there isn’t. That’s what you like about me.”
She turned away and looked out the window, ending the conversation.
I smirked to myself, noting that she didn’t bother to deny the truth.
We headed back to the city, making small talk from there. She told me more about her job and her life, and I gave her very generic answers to her questions about my life in Syria. Finally, we reached her apartment complex and I pulled over.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said.
“No problem, Pipes.”
She paused and seemed to be waiting for something. She shook her head, opened, the door, and stepped out of the car.
I watched as she disappeared inside of her building.
I felt something as I sat there, feeling the car hum beneath me. It was that same feeling I had when I was first with her, the feeling that I couldn’t shake even at the worst times out in Syria. Every time I remembered that night, I felt this way.
But she had a boyfriend, and for all the shit that I talked, I did respect that. I knew she fucking wanted me, and that she’d ditch her loser eventually if she knew what was good for her.
In the meantime, I was going back to my place to unwind.
9
Piper
I shouldn’t have felt tingles running down my spine every time Gates spoke to me. I should have been annoyed, angry, and frustrated. Instead, I was dripping wet and barely controlling myself.
I walked quickly back to my apartment, not turning back to look at Gates. I couldn’t allow myself that stupid luxury. I had a boyfriend and I couldn’t forget that. I wasn’t the type of girl to flirt with another guy when I had someone around. It just wasn’t right.
I felt awful as I climbed the stairs and went into our apartment. I knew I didn’t need to feel bad, but for some reason I felt guilty as hell. I hadn’t done anything, and even turned Gates down. Or at least I reminded him that I had a boyfriend over and over.
Still, my body was betraying me. I quickly changed into panties that weren’t soaked through and useless before sitting in the kitchen, frustrated as hell.
Gates was everything that I remembered. Cocky as hell, a total asshole, but also intense and strong. He looked like he could break me without lifting a single finger, and I was actually beginning to believe that was possible. Just the way he spoke suggested that there was something beneath his cocky bravado, but he wasn’t about to let me see that.
And I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t. I had a boyfriend and that was that. So what if I was going to be seeing more of Gates? I just had to get over this stupid emotion, whatever it was, and move on with my life. I had Tony and that wasn’t going to change.
Tony. I bit my lip, looking around. He still wasn’t home. I grabbed my cell and gave him a call, but he didn’t pick up.
Tony was my boyfriend. I still had this immense guilt in my stomach, so I went into the refrigerator and started to gather some things together.
I made him a sandwich and a little salad. I didn’t know why, since I had never gone to his work with food before to surprise him, but I suddenly felt like I needed to do something. It was already eight at night and I hadn’t heard from him, so I had to assume that he was still working.
Maybe he ate already, or maybe he wasn’t at the club. It didn’t matter. I felt so damn guilty that I was going down to that club to find him anyway, even if it was a waste of my time.
I put the food into a bag, grabbed a little snack for his desert, and
headed out the door. I called an Uber and it was there waiting for me by the time I got outside.
The guy drove in silence, which was what I preferred. He had a little bowl of free candies, but I always ignored those. He seemed okay, but who knew what sort of shit the other passengers put in there. I clutched my bag of food and rode along, forcing myself not to think about Gates.
Which of course made me think about Gates. His arms seemed more muscular, and I noticed a few new tattoos. He looked dangerous and soulful, this strange combination of softness and toughness. I knew he could snap a man’s neck if he wanted to, but I also believe he would never do it unless he had to.
It was all crazy. I barely knew him. Plus, I was with Tony, and I was going to see Tony. I took a few deep breaths to calm down, which only made me feel guiltier.
We got to Tony’s club and I climbed out. I quickly walked toward the door and pushed inside, glad that it was unlocked.
Club Intensity was big, modern, and hot. People loved it there, and it was packed almost every night. Tony started turning people away, and said that the longer the line, the more people wanted to try and get in. He admitted that sometimes he hired hot girls to stand around and wait in line, just to try and draw people in.
Now though, it was empty. There were some staff people walking around, setting up for the night, but I didn’t see Tony anywhere. I recognized the bartender and headed over to him.
“Hey, Thomas,” I called out.
“Hey, Piper. You here to see Tony?”
“Yeah. Is he here?”
“Went upstairs with a few guys just a minute ago. I’m sure you can catch him.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling.
I quickly went upstairs. I was going to surprise Tony with this food and then I wasn’t going to let myself think about Gates ever again. Things were going to be okay.
Tony’s office was through a back door and up a flight of stairs. The door was cracked open, and I could hear voices softly filtering out of it.
“. . . and the fucking prick blew it, you know?”
I paused before knocking. I didn’t know why, but it was the tone of the guy’s voice that made me wait.
“Yeah, I know,” another voice said. It was Tony. “The fucking prick can’t even not get shot. He’s a fucking loser.”
“A fucking loser,” someone agreed.
“A dead fucking loser.”
They all laughed.
Dead? What the hell were they talking about?
“Look, Mickey, open up that bag. Let’s show the gentlemen what we have to offer.” Tony again.
I heard some rustling around. A minute or two passed.
“That’s some good fucking shit,” a man said. “Very good shit.”
“Roger died to get it,” Tony said, laughing.
“Roger didn’t die in vain. We’re going to make a fuckton of money on this.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Where’d you even get this shit?”
“Some Mexican assholes. You know. Fucking border hoppers.”
“Shit, man. It’s prime shit. And you got it from Mexicans?”
“Hell yes.”
“Good shit.” I heard someone sniff and snort and then they all laughed. “Ah, fuck.”
“That good?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, man.”
“Good. Now, as discussed, the payment.”
There was a pause. “About the payment.”
“Is there a problem?” Tony sounded upset.
I knew I should leave. In that moment, I knew that I needed to run the hell away and never look back. Something was going on in that room that I didn’t want to know about, and Tony was at the center of it. I figured it was a drug deal, but I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to know.
The only thing I was sure of was that I didn’t want to be there anymore, didn’t want to be anywhere near Tony.
“We don’t think your asking price is fair,” the man said. “We think you’re trying to rip us off.”
Tony laughed, harsh and tight. “The price is the price, Lucas. You pay or you fuck off.”
“I don’t think that’s happening either.”
Suddenly, there were some loud bangs. I stumbled back a step, shocked. They were gunshots. My ears were ringing and I dropped the bag.
A man suddenly pushed through the door and stumbled past me, bleeding from his mouth and chest. I tried to scream but nothing came out. His eyes swept over me as he collapsed down the stairs, his body rolling and bouncing before it finally came to a stop.
I turned and looked into the room. I wish I hadn’t.
Tony was standing there, a gun in his hand. Another two men were dead at his feet. Two more men were behind Tony, both of them with their guns drawn.
And all three were staring at me.
“Piper,” Tony said, completely calm. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
It was his tone of voice that made me turn and run. The guns, the death, all of that froze me in place and wouldn’t let me leave. But Tony’s voice, completely cold and flat, made me turn and run as fast as I could.
I heard voices and footsteps behind me, but I didn’t stop. I ran as fast as my feet would take me, back down through the main floor, past Thomas the bartender, and out the front door.
I didn’t stop once I was out in the street. I kept running, my heart hammering, fear lancing through my body.
Tony was a killer. Tony was a murderer. Tony was a drug dealer.
I realized with certain horror that I didn’t know the man I was living with and I never had.
I kept running. People were staring, and at least one person tried to ask if I was okay, but I couldn’t stop. I had to put as much distance between me and Tony as possible.
Otherwise, he’d kill me. I knew it deep in my bones. I knew it the second he spoke. That flat, dead voice told me everything that I needed to know. Tony was a murderer and I was next.
Horror swept through me. My legs burned, my chest ached, and my breath was coming in ragged gasps. It didn’t matter, though. I kept pushing myself, pushing myself, unable to stop.
Finally, I couldn’t take another step. I stumbled forward, hands on my knees, gasping for breath. I kept walking, hands on my head, terror rolling through me in waves.
I was an animal panicking, I realized. Panic wasn’t going to do me any good. I had to think. I had to figure out what my next move was before Tony caught up with me.
I couldn’t go home. I was sure about that. I didn’t think I could go to the police, because I doubted they’d even believe me. As soon as Tony had me in his sights again, I was done for.
I had to run. But where? I couldn’t go to work. He knew where I worked. I couldn’t go to Lauren and Greg, because Tony knew about them, too. I couldn’t go to any of our shared friends, obviously, or any of my other girlfriends.
I was trapped. Like an animal, I was trapped. I couldn’t go to my parents. I couldn’t go back home. I had my wallet with my cards, but I didn’t know how long I could use them.
I stopped at a corner and got my bearings. I took a few deep breaths and began to think of a plan.
I needed cash and a place to go. Cash was going to be the first thing. One thing at a time, that was how I was going to get through this.
I checked my phone and found a nearby ATM. I walked toward it as fast as I could, head swiveling around me, afraid that Tony was going to appear at any moment.
I stopped in front of it and quickly took out as much cash as I could. I emptied my checking account without a second thought.
When that was done, I collapsed up against the wall, trying to think.
Where could I go? What could I do?
And then the answer hit me like a hammer to my chest.
There was only one place I could go. One place where I’d be safe.
And it was the last place I really wanted to go.
10
Gates
I was alone in my apartme
nt. Usually, being alone was dangerous for me, because it let me think back onto the bad shit.
Instead, I was thinking about Piper. About the way she looked at me, her body, her smile. It was all enough to drive me fucking crazy, and I was almost glad that she had a boyfriend.
Not really, though. What I really wanted was to pull her into my apartment and fuck her until she screamed my name. I wanted to fuck her until she forgot she ever dated another man.
I cracked open a beer and turned on the television, trying to drown out my thoughts. I flipped through the channels, taking long pulls, until I found some football game that I didn’t care about. It was perfect for distracting me, though, and I stared at the screen.
Until my phone started ringing. I glanced over at it, but didn’t recognize the number. I decided to let it go to voicemail.
A minute later, my phone buzzed. The person left a message. Frowning, I listened.
“Gates, I know this is weird.” It was Piper. I sat up straight, sensing the fear in her voice, the anxiety. “Listen, I need your help. I don’t know who to turn to. I got your number from Lauren. Can you, uh, can you please call me back? Okay. I know this is weird. Thanks.”
And then the message ended.
I stared at the phone. What the fuck had happened that she needed to call me? Clearly something bad, but she didn’t say. Either way, I could hear the fear. I could sense it in her voice just like I could sense when the men under my command were stressed.
I called her number back. She picked up on the first ring.
“Gates,” she said. She sounded like she’d been running.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “I mean, I think I am.”
“Where are you?”
Short pause. “Brooklyn.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Stay where you are. If you have to move, call me. Text me the address.”
Short pause. “Thank you so much, Gates.”
“Okay. Just stay there.”
I hung up and walked quickly into my room. I grabbed my Sig Sauer pistol, checked the clip, and slipped it until my jeans. I grabbed my jacket, slipped it on, and headed outside.