by Wilde, Leah
This moment was like the silence before the car engine roared, the last moment of calm before all hell broke loose and fire ignited and pistons slammed and the beastly machinery shuddered into life. I took a deep breath and savored it. One more second of silence. Then it would happen. Everything, the way it should have happened a long, long time ago.
Gordo was sneering down at me along the barrel of the gun. Its metal was cold on my forehead. I could see sweat slicking his brow. The air was damp, moist, whether with humidity or fear, I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. All these details registered as abstract and irrelevant. One thing mattered and one thing only: pain. Both mine and others’. In my experience, it took one to get the other. First, they hurt me. But then I hurt them. That was how my life was slated to go. That was what was about to happen.
He dropped the gun to his side and turned around. “I want to kill you so fucking badly,” he gasped, clawing at the air like it was my throat. “It’s so hard! It’s like I’m fucking a bitch and trying not to bust my nut too soon, you know? I can’t do it yet. I need to make this last. Whew, calm down, Gordo boy, calm down, okay? Let me take a second.” He paced a few steps away, rubbing his face in the palms of his hand and muttering to himself.
I heard Isabel whimpering next to me. I wanted to protect her. I owed her that much at the very least. I had made her a promise, and I was hell-bent on keeping it. This son of a bitch had not only betrayed his brothers and his president, he had laid his hands on my girl. I meant every word that I said to her. I would keep her safe. He had slipped past me, but he would pay dearly for it. Starting. Now.
“You made a mistake, Gordo,” I told him.
“Eh?” he called over his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t have left my hands free.”
He spun around. “What are you talking about?” he asked as he took a couple steps closer. That was his mistake. He came within arms’ reach.
The roar started in my stomach and ripped out through my bleeding mouth. I bellowed as I loaded all my weight onto my right side, then jerked as hard as I possibly could to my left. The bone in my left wrist snapped.
And my hand came slithering free of its restraints.
Gordo’s eyes bulged, but I was too quick. I swung my broken hand into his face, fist clenched as tight as I could manage. The pain nearly made me pass out, but I bit my tongue hard enough to keep me conscious as Gordo crumbled beneath the blow. He fell to the floor, stunned, and his gun came skittering towards me. I picked it up with my free hand and rose to my feet. My fingers shook with the effort it took to hold it straight, pointed down at him.
He looked up and froze. “How the fuck did you…?” he said in surprise.
I stared straight at him. “Pain means nothing to me, Gordo. It’s been my friend for a very long time.”
Then I squeezed the trigger. He didn’t move anymore after that.
# # #
The gunshot echoed in my ear for a long few seconds after I’d fired. Adrenaline surged through me, covering over the pain from the blow to my head and my limp wrist. I looked at Isabel. “It’s going to be okay,” I told her. She nodded but I could tell that she was still terrified. God, what a beauty. Her eyes were wide and brimming with tears, but they were full of trust, too. Trust in me. Trust in my promise.
“This is going to be loud,” I said. I pointed the gun at the chain still binding my right hand to the pipe and fired again. The link popped off, searing hot from the combustion, but I was free. I walked over to Gordo’s body and fished the key out of his pocket. Blood was trickling from the hole in his forehead. His face was frozen in complete shock. Served the motherfucker right.
I hobbled over to Isabel as fast as I could. Inserting the key into the lock on her manacles, I twisted them open and pulled her to her feet. She fell into my arms immediately, sobbing, finding a new voice in her tears.
“Dominic, I…I…”
“Shh,” I told her, stroking her hair. “It’s going to be okay. First, we have to get out of here.” My wrist was a lightning bolt of pain, but it was overpowered by the sudden upswelling of a strange, foreign emotion in the middle of my chest. I looked down at the girl cowering against me and realized that it was for her.
She was more than just my possession. In just a few short days, she had wound her way into my heart. I didn’t know how, but I had a strange feeling that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
I reached up my good hand and wiped the sticky residue from her lips. She gave in to a fresh outpouring of tears. Her voice choked as she said, “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop him.”
I felt the anger and bile rise in the back of my throat. I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me. “Listen to me, Isabel,” I said. “Nothing was your fault. Do you hear me? Not a damn thing. Don’t you ever, ever apologize to me for what that sick fuck did to you. Nod your head. Tell me you understand.”
Her face still streaked with tears, she slowly nodded that she understood.
I gripped her chin hard. “I’m here now, Isabel. And I’m not going anywhere ever again. I’ve never felt anything like what you do to me. You make me forget who I am. And if another man touches you, he’s going to end up exactly like the son of the bitch over there. Dead as a fucking doornail. That’s an oath.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “I believe you.”
I bent down and pressed my lips hard against hers. Her warmth flooded me, her smell lingering in my nose, so exotic and uniquely hers. “Now, come on,” I said as I broke it off begrudgingly. “Let’s get the fuck out of this city.”
I took her hand and started to pull her out of the room, but I felt her stop as we passed by Gordo’s corpse. I glanced back at her. She was staring down at him, an unreadable expression on her face.
“He’s dead,” I said gently. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She looked up at me, brows knitted in a fiery glare. “I just hope the motherfucker is burning in hell,” she said in a firm, unwavering voice. Then she leaned over and spat on his face. In spite of everything that was going on—the murder, the betrayal, the agony ripping my wrist apart—I smiled. She still had some fight in her.
Winding her fingers between mine, she joined me as we ran towards the door, headed for the outside.
We ran down a long, dank hallway. Our feet pounded on the concrete floor and our breath came in harsh gasps. A set of double doors loomed at the end. We reached it and burst through into the courtyard. I was hardly halfway through the doors when I felt a smashing blow slam into the side of my head, right where the Capparelli foot soldier had hit me earlier. I fell to the floor, struggling to see who had attacked me.
I rolled onto my back and looked up in time to see Emilio plunging towards me, elbow extended like a battering ram. He dropped the full extent of his weight behind it. The air rushed from my lungs and I felt a rib crack beneath him.
“Run, Isabel,” I gasped. “Now!” I couldn’t see where she was, but I heard her footsteps slapping the floor as she scrambled away.
He was massive. His fat pressed around me on all sides, sealing me to the ground. There was nowhere I could shift to find enough leverage to push him off of me. He scrabbled for my neck, wrapped his hands around it, and began to squeeze the life out of me.
Gordo’s pistol was still in my broken left hand. I was struggling to find the strength to raise it up high enough to be able to shoot Emilio.
“Stop…” I gasped as my face began to turn blue. I could feel tiny blood vessels popping in my nose and eyeballs from the strain. My lips and fingertips were tingling.
“You fucked with the wrong people, asshole!” he screamed, his voice oddly high-pitched for a man of his size.
My wrist was shrieking at me. Panicked messages were shooting down my veins, begging me to stop moving it, to just let it rest and recover. There wasn’t any time for that, though. I closed my eyes.
C’mon, shorty, said a tinny voice in my head. You gon’ get licked like this? That
wrist of yours ain’t so bad. Pick it up already. Shoot this sumbitch. All these years later, and Slim was still a part of me. I wanted to laugh or cry or both.
Another inch and I’d be in position to fire. C’mon, shorty. Pick it up. Shoot. Pain’s your friend, remember?
My whole body flexed in unison as I swiveled the gun towards Emilio’s leg and pulled the trigger. A fountain of blood plumed upwards where the bullet entered his fatty flesh. He howled demonically and flailed backwards, immediately letting go of my neck. Air—sweet, blessed air—flowed into my lungs.
I twisted onto my knees and reached over to grab Emilio’s hair. Pulling his head back, I pressed the gun against his mouth. “Your turn,” I growled. I prepared to fire. He looked terrified.
“Not so fast,” someone said from a few yards away. My finger hovered against the cool metal trigger as my gaze shot up. “If you move, I’ll kill her.”
Antonio was standing with a gun pointed at Isabel. She stood rooted to the earth, halfway between him and me, staring back in my direction like a deer in the headlights.
Antonio’s nostrils were rimmed with white. His eyebrows jutted far above into his forehead, giving him a manic look in the shimmering halogen lights overhead. His shadow was jagged and long. It stretched across the courtyard like something out of a nightmare.
Behind him, the Capparelli foot soldiers stood arrayed in ranks, guns at the ready. I saw that two of them had taken charge of the wagon with the chem weapons. We were surrounded. Escape was not an option.
This was it. I’d come this far, only to fail at the crucial moment. I wouldn’t get my revenge. I wouldn’t do what I’d promised to do for Slim. I was going to die instead, on my knees in the earth like a dog. I failed. I failed.
And it wasn’t only Slim who I’d let down. Isabel was paralyzed with fear. But when she looked at me, there was no mistaking the trust in her eyes. I almost wanted to laugh. This time, babe, we’re not getting out of it, I thought to myself. I couldn’t keep my promise to her. I was going to let her down—brutally. Painfully. Fatally.
Emilio struggled to his feet, favoring his injured leg. The bullet had passed through the thickest part of his thigh. He was bleeding badly, but it looked like he’d make it through this one. Pity. He wobbled, then straightened, glowering at me with a sadistic hatred in his eyes.
Antonio walked towards where I was kneeling. His gun moved from Isabel to me as he crossed the few yards of terrain that separated us. Behind him, one of his men moved to her and seized her upper arm roughly. But her eyes never left me.
He paused a couple feet in front of me. Emilio stood to my right, looking down in eager anticipation of the quick execution that was about to take place. “Time to put you down,” Antonio said softly. He had such a predilection for the movie villain put-down. I wondered who he was trying to convince he was tough. Himself? His men? His dead father? Whoever it was, he was a slave to their approval. I hoped, for the sake of his sanity, that he’d get it one day.
But that day would have to be in the afterlife. For a moment, it was like the world froze in its orbit. Everyone held their breath, the lights ceased their flickering, and even the stars overhead stood still. I saw my opening, shining among this foul-smelling shithole like it was heaven-sent.
The bombs.
The pallet of chemical weapons was parked ten feet behind Antonio and just far enough to the right of him that I had a clear line of sight. My swollen left hand had hung limply at my knees, but the gun in my right hand was still pointed steadily forward. Right at the wagon.
The weapons were highly pressurized gas in military grade plastic containers, packaged along with detonators that operated via electrical pulses. Being that it was a black market contraption, however, the entire rig was susceptible to destabilization in the event of dramatic trauma to the integrity of the containing device.
In other words, a bullet in the right spot would make the whole thing go bang.
Three things happened at once. I took a deep breath. I yelled, “Run, Isabel!” I pulled the trigger.
And the world went supernova.
Chapter 32
Isabel
A white hot tidal wave of air hit me at the same time as Dominic’s voice. “Run, Isabel!” he growled from where he kneeled in front of Antonio. His voice broke me from my paralysis. I obeyed immediately.
I swung the heel of my foot into the crotch of the man gripping my arm. He doubled over immediately, taken by surprise. I threw an elbow into his face for good measure, and then I turned and ran.
The second wave knocked me down. I tried to look backwards, but the light was blinding. I couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. The night was crackling with sparks and an unfamiliar chemical smell that singed at the edges of my nostrils. I could feel the heat baking against my back as I scrambled up. All I could think to do was move my legs. Run, run, don’t stop, don’t ever stop. Keep moving.
I burst out of the central courtyard and into the intricate pipework surrounding the facility. My breath was like a dagger in the side of my ribs, twisting deeper with every breath, but still, I couldn’t stop. I wove my way between the massive contraptions of steel. Back behind me, fire and smoke were beginning to fill the air.
I finally broke out of the labyrinthine factory and onto an access road running behind it. Parked alongside the near edge of the road were a series of white vans, still idling. I ran up to the one in front and yanked open the driver’s side door.
The keys sat in the ignition. I looked around me. No one had followed. I was completely alone.
Here it was. The chance to escape that I’d always been waiting for. Anyone who had ever tried to keep me trapped was back in the middle of the sewage plant. No one could stop me now. All I had to do was climb into the car, pop the brake, and drive off to start a new life. I could do it. It was right there.
So why wasn’t I moving?
The answer was obvious. Dominic was still back there.
I let a banshee wail tear up my throat. I slapped a hand on the side of the van, relishing how good it felt to hit something solid and know that it was real, that this wasn’t all some horrific, never-ending nightmare. The metal rang under my touch.
“Get in the car and drive, Isabel,” I said to myself. “Do it now. It’s easy. Climb in.” I choked back a sob and got into the seat. The fingers of my right hand came to rest on the keys, my left on the wheel. My foot found the gas pedal. But then I froze.
“Come on, Isabel,” I urged. “It’s so easy. Just turn the car on. Turn the goddamn car on.”
But Dominic. My master, on paper and in body. But so much more than that. The first man who’d ever made me feel like I could truly stand up the way Frank had told me to. There was a lot I had yet to learn about him, but a deep part of me knew that the words he said and the past he carried with him would only be a confirmation of the aura he gave off, the one I already felt and knew. I swallowed hard as the words crossed my mind—the one I loved.
He had taken me so roughly, so harshly. But I’d wanted it then and I wanted it now. I wanted it every day for the rest of my life.
I had to go find him.
I bolted out of the car and back towards the factory. The fire had begun to rise up. Shadow puppets danced on the sides of the huge storage tanks. Even from here, I could feel the heat roasting my face. The closer I got, the more intense it became. The smell, too, grew fouler and fouler as I ducked between the piping and zig-zagged between buildings. It was like running into the lowest rung of hell.
I still wasn’t sure whether the man I was after was a devil or an angel. But I wanted the chance to find out.
I turned onto a long, thin alleyway between two adjacent buildings. Weighing my options, I spun and headed down it rather than keep wandering the circuitous route I’d escaped by as I searched for Dominic. I was halfway down when a figure stepped into the light on the other side.
Angela.
I halted. My heart was attacking the inside of m
y rib cage, pounding and pounding like it was trying to let her know how much fear was pouring through my veins at the sight of her. It felt like a cold hand was squeezing my stomach into a tiny little ball. My hands shook. My throat went dry.
Of course it would be her. I’d never be able to escape without facing her, the one who hated me, the one who’d tortured me and taunted me…my sister, Angela.
She was bleeding from a cut on her forehead. Ash was smeared across her face and upper arms and black flakes settled from the air onto her blonde hair, strands of which had fallen from the tight confines of her bun.