by Sienna Evans
But Greyson…
And Brendan’s behavior made me want to scream. I fought back the raging emotions. They were bound to get me in a boatload of trouble.
As early as it was, there were still people out on the roads. Kind of made me feel safer being out like that, especially since I’d already made it close to three blocks and couldn’t remember exactly which block I’d parked before meeting up with that Jamison. Would’ve been so much easier if I’d taken a taxi or the subway, but I’d borrowed my dad’s old car for the weekend.
I kept on stepping with an image of Greyson implanted on my mind.
“It’s not polite to ignore a compliment.” All of a sudden, some idiot pulled up next to me while I waited at a corner for a car to roll by.
“I’m not in a talking mood. Furthermore…”
He didn’t stay for an explanation.
In truth, I felt so uncomfortable being out on the street like this. Forget about the fact that I a pink mini and stilettos. I needed to hurry up and get to my car before—
A car tire screeched, echoing into the air and sending chills down my spine. This particular block was darker than most. In the distance, the tiniest hint of daylight sat high up in the sky.
“Get out of the street!” someone yelled, sitting on a horn.
A Yukon stalled a few cars back, but I could see some guy’s arm swinging out of the window. A man’s voice grew louder by the second, cussing up a storm.
“What are you waiting on, Brad? Run over him if he doesn’t move. As a matter of fact, there’s plenty of street out there.” I might’ve kept on with my business, but that voice didn't belong to just anyone. I could’ve sworn the second one was Brendan’s.
My chest grew heavy. Sweat began trickling down my face. I didn’t need to be here at this hour, when the sun hadn’t yet come up and the streets were still alive. Luckily, the nearest vehicle had a wide rear, enough to keep me out of eyesight. The streetlight was out in the distance too, so I stayed out of view.
“Celeste!”
I didn’t want Brendan to see me. Tossing my head, I then stepped around the car.
“Why did you leave like that? Get in the car.”
“I’m on this block. I’m okay.”
“Get in!”
This time I did. I was starting to believe I was way off course. I hung my head low. I plopped down onto the back seat of the spacious SUV, far enough away from Brendan.
“What do you think about my Denali, Celeste?”
“How’s Greyson? Did you get a chance to check on your brother yet?” Between the two of us, finding my car and locating Greyson were the only topics I cared to discuss.
The SUV cut around several blocks. I was tossed around. “Where are you taking me?”
“Looking for your car.”
“I didn’t tell you where it was or what I was driving. Besides, how do you know where to go?”
“Sit back in the seat. Keep quiet!” he gritted. His right arm stretched up before bending at the elbows. He then ran his fingers through his hair, kind of the way Greyson did whenever he felt tense. “Leave things up to the cops.”
“You’re kidding me, right? Those assholes abducted Quinn. They raped her! They killed her! Because of them, her life is over.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Don’t try to play me for a fool. I don’t know what you have going on with those Russians, but you better make sure you get yourself right.”
“Or else?” He paused to grin. My stomach soured. I think he got a kick out of seeing me flustered. “What are you going to do?” He shifted over, closer to my side. Didn’t stop until we were about two inches apart. “This is bigger than you, me, Greyson or one life.”
I was seething by now. My veins burned. How could he be so unmoved? I seethed from being this close to him. No more fear, just pure hatred. I squeezed the strap from my bag and returned his stare, even though I was sick to my stomach. Puke rose into my throat. “You’re disgusting.” I cringed to be within the same vicinity of this asshole.
“I’ve been called worse. At least I can be myself around you now.” The scent of stale liquor flushed into my face. I stopped breathing. No matter how long you’ve known someone, you never truly know the depths of their mess.
From the corner of my eyes I spotted one of his hands shifting behind his back, underneath his shirt. I considered my options for when I needed to break away. Although I had on those stilettos, I made up my mind to run like hell to get away.
The vehicle suddenly bucked just enough for Brendan to take further notice. “What are you doing?” Brendan shouted.
“Boss, this guy looks like one of the Russians,” Brad called out from the front.
Fear overtook me. There was no telling what demons pursued this “superstar cop,” especially with his star being dim.
“Get the—” Brendan dipped out of the seat and swung open the door at once. A dark object flashed from the waist of his khakis. Brad exited from the driver’s side door at the same time.
“I’m not scared of you,” a thicker Bronx-accented voice assured from outside. “We need to finish this like real men! You’re a filthy pig!”
Every fiber of my being shook. My thoughts and plans were blown the up. I unhooked the seatbelt and duck down on the floor. Life flashed before me. While my fingers were anything but steady, I fumbled to remove my shoes. Why didn’t I walk with a pair of sneakers? Besides, I couldn’t even focus enough to find dad’s car.
The warnings that should’ve kept me away from this hellhole in the first place crept in; they never really left. I’d kept telling myself that this was for Quinn—being in the center of that life, flirting with danger and now, likely, getting caught up with this crooked cop I’ve never truly “known” all of my life. Life began flashing in front of my face. If Brendan was playing both sides and I’d somehow gotten caught up in the middle, what could I do? They must know that I tried to infiltrate their organization.
Right now, I needed Greyson more than this air keeping me alive. This whole thing blew up. Piece by piece, the night kept falling apart without a hope of being redeemed.
Peering through the windows at Brendan and Brad, while they argued with a hooded guy, fear consumed me. What if things were to go haywire again? What would I do this time? I don’t have any strength left now.
My pulse quickened. Tears loomed on my lashes. The day was gloomy, scary even. It was like a covering of air blanketed the entire city, just waiting for something to go down. I willed myself to remain calm, but Brendan, Brad and the other guy were all shouting at each other by this point.
The guy’s words grew louder. “I’m sick of you!”
Sick of what? I wanted to know but couldn't bring myself to interject.
“The way I see it, Detective, you can go about your business or we can end this once and for all,” he continued the warned.
I tuned in for something, anything more. Did Brendan have some type of hidden agenda in his job? He was responsible to protect and serve.
“I’ll go with the last choice,” Brendan tossed back.
There were a few more exchanges back and forth, but I didn’t want to wait around for the final outcome. It was still dark enough that I couldn’t be entirely sure of our location, but I refused to just sit there and wait this out.
The streets of Manhattan? But with this sort of noise? How twas this going on for so long? Then again, people knew how to mind their own business in the City.
My mind raced nonstop. I prepped myself to do what needed to be done. Finally taking a deep breath just when their voices had reached an all-time high, I eased opened the door and maneuvered out of the truck. My back pressed against the vehicle, while I allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks.
And then, there it was . . . a single shot. The gun might’ve very well had a silencer because it more or less swished through the air, but I felt someone’s life coming to an end.
“Ahhh!” Someone yel
led out the very thought that had manifested within me.
I bit on my bottom lip to keep from calling out. My insides turned to mush. The morning slowed down. I detached from everything; instantly feeling alone and exposed. Even the men ceased to exist, if but for a split second. I forced my mind and body to remain calm by shifting my breathing to slow and steady breaths instead of the quick, erratic pulses I'd started out with. That brief time afforded me the chance to make a sensible choice, a judgment call. Sweat trickled down my forehead. I reached into my bag and snatched out a thin gray hoody. I needed to be forgotten, to disappear. As my hair faded out of sight under the semi-thick cloth material, I spun around to search out the location and plot an escape. The air filled with more profanity and several sharper noises. I was no longer able to decipher the voices or the threats.
I decided to not stay around for an outcome. I wasn’t concerned with who had been hit and hoped that all three might eventually take each other out. I was certain Brendan wouldn’t forget about me for much longer. So, I remained low, hiding between the cars parked on the street. I was prepared to go underneath if need be. As weak as I’d come to feel, I needed to prove to myself that I was a survivor.
—
I stooped down next to the curb, between a blue Chevy and a white Dodge. A filthy puddle of water trembled in front of me. My stomach flipped, but I held back the vomit. Brendan’s shoulder came into view. I followed the silhouette down his arm. He had a gun cocked to the back of a man’s head. From a single streetlight, I could almost see blood soaking up the left side of Brendan’s shoulder. His usually pale skin had a dingy tint, making him almost filthy looking. They must’ve gotten soiled on the road. Even at a disadvantage, the guy was reluctant in his movements. He was thin. His clothes were plain—jeans and a hoodie. With arms stretched sideways, his head hung down. Sandy colored hair brushed forward to cover his eyes and forehead.
Brad came around from the other side pointing a flashlight into the guy’s face, though Brad’s shadow blanketed them. He exchanged words with Brendan for about five-seconds; long enough for the guy to make the short distance toward me. His boots made heavy thuds. I blew out air through my mouth instead of my nose. With each heavy pulse from the guy's face, I could've died inside.
My chest beat in tune with his quick footsteps. I inched back, held my breath and prepared to run like hell. But I didn’t know where to go. There was nowhere to hide, at least not without them seeing me. I slid against the bumper of the Dodge until I was able to get over to the other side of the car; my heart beat louder, harder and wilder at my chest. I shivered throughout. The poor, injured guy was thrown onto the same car I’d pulled up to. My own back pressed close to the cold metal.
I wanted to live. I needed to do so intact. Briefly glancing up to the fading, gray sky for a brief second, I tried not to breathe, since any type of movement was liable to give me away.
“I think you need to put down the gun,” the guy pleaded with painful words. “Let’s talk.” He panted and rushed his speech. Without even knowing anything about him, my insides sunk.
“Do I look stupid—” Brendan spat out.
“We need to go, Boss.”
“You better listen—”
“Shut the—”
“What are you going to do? You’re into killing innocent men now, Officer?”
“I don’t think you realize who you are dealing with. You brought trouble to me, and then tried to see how much further you could push before I blew up.”
None of this made sense. Trouble? What did I get into? I sank onto the concrete, determined that their conversation must’ve taken precedence over me. Hell, they’d probably forgotten I was with them. In the midst of the tears, I gazed up to see a figure in a nearby window. Possibly a child? I waved my hand, just slightly.
“Get off me!” the guy screamed. I yanked down my arm that was barely sticking out. The person immediately ran from the window. Then again, my mind might've been playing tricks on me.
I pressed my cheek to the side of the cold metal, and then slowly crept to where I’d originally stooped. The guy fell to the road, next to the opposite tire. His head got knocked sideways. Our eyes connected at the same time. Moonlight had barely saturated the clouds. I lived for those streaks of light — not to shine on me but give hope beyond the darkness. Furthermore, as twisted as it might sound, I somehow felt safe enough with the stranger being absorbed in the attack. His eyes never tore away from mine.
Blood spewed from his mouth. Brendan was so engulfed in pulverizing the guy that he hadn't noticed me only a few feet away. Then he placed the gun to the guy’s head, pulled away, and pistol-whipped the unlucky guy. My fingers instinctively went to my mouth. I forced down louder cries.
The guy’s eyes were bruised and bloodied. A darkness known as death loomed close, too close. Truth, I knew well the aura it brought on. I'd dreamt it over the past few months. Fear seeped from Brendan’s soon-to-be victim. But whatever had happened, he was here and didn’t believe there was an alternative. Brendan pulled up the guy only to toss his body back down. I drew out of sight when I saw Brendan’s boot lift up in the air and fly down toward the guy’s head.
“Leave him there,” Brendan ordered. “Where’s Celeste?”
“No way!”
“Find her!”
They raced toward the back seat of his SUV, safely up the block and in the opposite direction. Keeping my knees bent, I made a breakup the street and around the next corner. The Escalade flew past the street less than a minute later. I was on foot, they were not. Hiding made sense. I waited about ten minutes. Might as well have been ten hours. My mind raced over the short life I’d lived. I stepped out into the open.
“Celeste!”
“Nooooo . . . Please . . .” I moved away, rushing to survive. The hoodie fell back to my shoulders. My bare feet pounded hard on the grimy sidewalk. I gripped my bag and fought to get away. Breeze rushed into my face, cooling the tears flowing down my cheeks.
I swore not to give up. One word flashed before me: survive.
Why I needed to, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t ready to give up. I had to live. If they were to catch me, I could almost envision my own death, much like the stranger’s lifeless body. Just like poor Quinn too. I might be seen as a liability.I counted their footsteps, from echoes to loud thuds right behind me…gaining fast…pulling up next to me. The stale night air rushed at me, threatening to suffocate me. I pumped my arms up and down at my sides. My fingers gripped my shoes and bag, digging into the palm of my hands. It was no use.
“Where are you going, huh?” Brendan’s arm swooped around my waist. As he pulled me in the opposite direction, I caught a glimpse of my wild hair in a nearby tinted car window. My eyes were wide, and lashes clumped together from the tears.
“C’mon, Brendan, let me go.” A bitter, dry breeze flowed out of my mouth. My voice was growing hoarse.
“Shut up,” he whispered.
We spun around to an odd sound, like the swoosh and crackle of a baseball bat. Our attention immediately went from high to low. Brad’s large body and face was pressed onto the sidewalk a few feet away. Brendan’s fingers squeezed my wrists, and his arm secured me against his chest. He reeked of funk and liquor; a perfect combination they could label killer’s essence. I wiggled around, but then heard a click at my head.
“Let her go,” an even-toned female voice demanded as a slender girl walked from behind a concrete structure. Honey-blonde hair was pulled up in a knot; flyaway strands gave her an ironic, angelic glow. She wore a thigh-high, teal tank dress with walnut-shaded kickers. Her fingers gripped on a red bat with the words Little Slugger scribbled down the side.
The corners of my lips curved up. Sure, I had a gun at my temple. Honestly, this chick had no fear. I only hoped some of that bravery would rub off on me. Brendan was unhinged, and a complete stranger was willing to defend me with a bat. The chick’s eyes glimmered; they were a crystal shade of gray that stood out in th
e dark. She moved progressively closer under a streetlight; not enough to set him off, but just enough to have him believing he had the upper hand.
“Keep going and mind your own business—” Brendan was cut off by the sound of sirens. The cold object he had pressed to my head eased just enough as he made a simple move by turning toward the noise.
I elbowed him in the groin, ducked and the chick allowed the bat to fulfill its purpose. Brendan crashed to the ground. She hit him again, and then did the same to Brad. I cringed each time there was a connection.
“Don’t punk up on me, chick.” She turned to walk away.
“I-I-I’m just saying . . .” I stuttered.
“Take deep breaths. You live near?”
My head pumped up and down.
“You got major ties to this area?”
I shrugged.
“Unless you want this to blow up in your face, I suggest you get away from—”
I spun several times, just realizing I'd dropped my bag and shoes. “I have to get my stuff, my shoes and-and—”
“And nothing.” She paused to look down at me. Her chin directed me to a sky blue, vintage Chevy. “Your shoes aren’t worth your life, are they?”
I swallowed the warning. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Suit yourself. What you just saw is nothing compared to what’s up the road.”
I nodded slowly. After dipping my head low, I finally spotted a sparkly ball I’d hung in the window of my gray Honda just two cars up. “I’m right here. I’ll be okay.”
She kissed her teeth before racing off.
Greyson
For too long, Brendan and I have been coming at each other. Sure, we could “play nice” like our mother used to call it when we were younger. But now, we came together with purpose. Finding Celeste was big. Our alliance reminded me of the times we’d actually been brothers. We tolerated each other then. I was proud, and even looked up to him. Brendan had been preparing to go away to the academy and one of our dad’s business associates had given us our first real jobs that summer.