by W Winters
“Jase, are you okay?” I don’t think I’ve ever pushed myself up quicker in bed as I get onto my knees and move toward him.
“I’m fine, anxious though,” he answers me as I sit in front of him, neither of us touching each other in the dark night. It’s all shadows and cool gusts of air between us and I wish it would go away; I wish I could change everything.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and do exactly what I wanted to do a moment ago for myself, but right now it’s for him. Sitting up taller, I press my lips to his for a tender kiss, my fingers brushing against his stubble and then laying across the back of his neck. Jase tilts his head down and cupping the back of my head, keeps me there for a second longer. Just one more beat.
“Are you going to be all right?” I ask him in a whisper, my lips close to his, not wanting to let go.
“I’ll be fine,” he answers me and I don’t think he’s lying. I think that he thinks he really will be fine, in a situation where nothing at all is fine.
“Do you care that I’m going to kill him?” He doesn’t let me go as he asks the question.
“Only in the sense that I care about what it does to you.” The answer is immediate and true to the core. Maybe it’s wrong, but there’s so much that’s not right that I simply don’t care about being wrong anymore.
“I want you with me. You can know, or you can guess, you can ignore it all. I don’t care so long as you’re with me.”
“I want to know,” I tell him even though a tremor of fear runs through me.
“All I care about is you being here when I get back. Tell me you’ll be here.”
“I’ll be here.”
I wish I’d told him I loved him, but he kisses me and then leaves me breathless on the bed. I can feel it in his kiss and when he leaves, when the door is closed and he’s long gone, I ask as though he’s still here with me, why won’t you tell me you love me?
I refuse to believe it’s not love. It’s fucked up a million ways and then some, but this is love.
Jase
“In some cultures, people bury the men they murder face down so they can’t come back to haunt them.”
Four stories up in the vacant and grand estate, the large windows are open and the rooms are all bare. The empty old office is bigger than the entire house I grew up in. The ceilings are tall; the light wood floors shine with polish. When Romano left his place weeks ago, he took off and got rid of everything. One day he was here, the next he was gone. The worst decision he made was coming back.
“Face down? Like in their grave?” Seth asks from across the large room. There aren’t any lights in the room; the full moon and the streetlights give us everything we need. He’s still dressed in jeans and a shirt, both black. His men are downstairs sweeping the place and preparing for what’s to come, while we’re up here with our guest of honor.
I nod, listening to the muffled noises that come from behind the balled-up rag in Romano’s mouth. Hysteria is setting in for the old man as his face turns red and Carter, Declan and Daniel join us. He’s never looked so old to me. So close to a fucking heart attack and then death. Wouldn’t that be ironic? If the fucker had a heart attack while tied down in that desk chair and we didn’t even get a chance to kill him.
“They thought if they buried the men they killed face down, when their spirits woke up, they’d be disoriented,” I explain to Seth and to whoever else is listening.
Seth lets out a rough chuckle, playing with a knife as he sits in a wingback chair in the corner. The leather is old and cracked. I guess that’s why Romano left it behind. Everything left in the room was meant to be thrown away. Now Romano’s been added to that category.
“I’ve heard of feeding the dead to pigs. They’ll eat anything,” Seth answers.
“Can’t bury a man if he dies with dynamite in his lap, can you? Or feed what’s left of him to the pigs?” Carter questions and then pats my shoulder as he enters the room. He only glances at Romano, not paying him much mind as he walks around the room. This estate has to be a hundred years old. It was a family legacy. One that’s ending tonight.
Although the conversation borders on lighthearted in tone, tension is thick in the room.
“This used to be your office?” Carter asks Romano as he leans forward, placing a hand on the soon-to-be dead man’s shoulder. From behind the rag comes nothing but rage and the muted sounds of what I assume are curse words.
I wonder what it’s like to be him right now. I’d rather have a heart attack than to be him right now.
Carter only smirks at him, standing up and pushing off of his shoulder, sending Romano rolling away in the wheeled desk chair. Gagged and tied down, this is how he’ll die. In the room where he made all of his decisions. Decisions to murder and decisions that require consequences.
“Any situations tonight?” Carter asks Seth who shakes his head. “In and out, he was sleeping so the chloroform was easy. Overall it was,” he says as he looks Carter in the eyes, “uneventful.”
“And the detail in the next room? Did they try to interfere?”
Seth answers, “Didn’t see them, didn’t hear them. It was all over in under ten minutes. Even if it was filmed, we were masked and didn’t talk. There’s no way to ID us.”
“Good work,” I chime in and my brother agrees.
“Explosives are planted everywhere but the main room where we hid the cash in the safe. It’ll look like he came back to hide evidence, but mistakenly set it off too soon,” Carter explains.
“What a tragedy.” Daniel’s comment drips with sarcasm. Out of all of us he’s been the most quiet, the most still. Leaning against the back wall and staring at Romano all night.
Romano says something. It could be his last words for all I care, they won’t be heard.
Declan adds, “It keeps the feds off our back, they go away. I want them the fuck out of here. And we take over the upper east side.”
“All our problems solved.” Triumph comes darkly from Carter’s voice.
Almost all. Marcus and Walsh are becoming more difficult problems by the day, but I keep that opinion to myself.
“I wish they all knew,” Daniel speaks up. As he kicks off the wall and walks closer to the far edge of the room to look down at the tied-up man, the light sends shadows over the harsh expression on his face. “It’s too quick and not public enough for what you deserve,” he tells Romano. His voice is hoarse, and anger and mourning both linger there.
The memory of Tyler dead in the street plays tricks on my mind as I look out the large window feeling the cool breeze against my face. The cast iron fence separates the estate from the road and it’s just beneath us. The road ahead is a backroad; many don’t travel on it and it’s not the road where Tyler died, but any black road slick with rain will carry that memory forever.
“Justice is a funny thing, isn’t it?” I murmur as I tap my blunt nails along the windowsill, opening the window even more, as much as I can to feel the cold air blow in. “It never feels like enough.”
“What?” Daniel asks from behind me, so I turn around to face him.
“It’s never going to feel like enough… because it’s never going to be all right.” With the singular truth exposed, a raw pain grows from my empty lungs and radiates upward.
“I’m grateful he didn’t get away and the feds didn’t fuck this up for us. We’ll spread it around, that we didn’t like him talking to the cops,” Carter says and looks pointedly at Seth, who nods. Rumors travel fast in this town and everyone needs to know it was us. Romano fucked with us. Now he’s dead. That’ll make a lot of other pricks question whether or not they’re willing to do the same.
“What about Tyler?” Daniel asks. His forehead creases as he continues, “They should know Romano killed him and that’s what gave him a death sentence.”
“We’d be admitting we didn’t know the truth until recently,” Carter speaks up, shaking his head. “It’s easier to keep it a secret.”
A lie, hisses i
n my ear, and I have to turn away from my brothers, once again looking out into the empty street only to see the ghost of memories there.
“I don’t like it.” Daniel disagrees with Carter. Seth and Declan are quiet, simply observing the two of them.
“Tyler deserves justice,” I speak up before being conscious of it. “It shouldn’t be kept a secret.”
“Romano dies tonight.” Carter’s harsh words whip through the air. “What more do you want?”
I’m surprised by Daniel’s words as he says, “Humiliation, pain… I want it to be a spectacle.” He’s still filled with hate over Tyler’s death. He’s still angry. He’s still grieving. I’m convinced the five stages of grieving aren’t like steps where you take one after the other. I think they’re waves that constantly crash onto the shore and you never know which one will hit you.
“That’s not going to help our FBI situation,” Declan answers, peeking up from the corner of the room where he’s standing behind Seth. I can feel all their eyes on me, but I don’t look back yet. All I can look at are the spikes that line the top of his iron fence. All I can think about is how awful it would be to die like that, to fall onto the spiked fence beneath us and be impaled next to an asphalt road. It’d be the last thing he ever looked at.
“We decided this was how it would be… now you want to wait?” Carter questions, his voice tight with incredulity.
“No, we don’t have to wait.” I turn to finish my thought, looking at Daniel as I suggest, “We can throw him out this window. That would be a spectacle, as you called it.”
Daniel smirks while Declan lets out a chuckle and then asks, “Wait, are you serious?”
“He can die committing suicide by jumping onto a spiked fence,” Daniel says and smiles over Romano’s muffled pleas. The man’s fighting in his chair now, causing it to roll slightly across the floor. I kick the back of it gently, just to push him away from me and torture him some more.
“Who would kill themselves that way?” Declan asks. “Who commits suicide by spearing himself onto a fence?”
“No one,” I answer him and Daniel adds, “That’s the point.”
“That would send a message,” Seth comments although it’s not meant to agree or disagree. He stays neutral in all of this.
Carter’s voice is low as he says, “It would send a message to the feds too. That we don’t care they’re here and that we’re still running this town. Is that the message you want to send?”
“That’s the message we need to send,” Daniel presses. “What are they going to do? We don’t leave evidence. They’ll know, but they can’t do anything about it.”
“Just like they can’t do anything about Tyler,” I say and my statement is the nail in the coffin for me. Romano murdered our brother and left him on the street to die. “This is justice.”
He’ll do the same.
“No one knew about Tyler; how could they have done anything?” That’s the problem, isn’t it? With so many lies and secrets, no one could do anything for Tyler. It was just a tragedy.
Just like Jenny. I think about how many times Bethany went to the cops and filed a missing persons report for her sister. How they told her they were sorry, and they didn’t know what happened when the trunk was found.
“We need to do this, Carter,” I say and look him dead in the eyes, feeling a numbing prick flow over my skin. “No accident, no dynamite. We give him the death he earned.”
Time ticks slowly, with Seth shifting behind me and Declan staring at Daniel, who’s waiting for Carter’s final decision. Tick, tick, tick. It’s too slow.
“Take the cash, leave the safe empty and open. Wipe for prints.” Carter gives the order and I walk from the open window to Daniel, feeling the cold gust of wind at my back carrying Romano’s muffled screams.
“You all right?” I ask him lowly so it’s just between the two of us, and he nods although he can’t look me in the eyes, he can’t look away from Romano.
“Who gets to do it?” he asks me although his voice is coarse and he has to clear it. “Who gets to do the honors?”
“You can if you want.” I give it to him. I’ll suffer the rest of my life, hating that Tyler died in my place. Whether Romano breathes again, whether I kill him, none of it will change that. But at least now everyone will know. And that’s something.
“It was supposed to be you,” he reminds me, as if there’s any way I could forget.
“I know, but doing this isn’t going to bring Tyler back.” Daniel’s expression wavers, the hardness falls for a moment and he nods again. I watch as the cords in his neck tense.
“If we’re doing this, it has to be done clean,” Declan speaks up. I’m not sure if he disagrees and thinks we should go the safe route, or if he’s simply covering our bases.
“We’re always clean,” Seth answers him.
“Let the feds see,” I tell Declan. “Let everyone know.” I pat Daniel on the back and then look Carter in the eyes as I say, “No one takes from us and gets away with it.”
“It’s settled then,” Carter agrees. “And the men that came back with him? What about them?”
“Make it clean,” Declan repeats to Carter, the undertone of his voice harsh. Romano’s cries can still be heard and I kick the chair just slightly, sending him rolling backward again.
“There’s no deal to offer any of Romano’s men, no loose ends,” Seth says and nods.
I wait until Seth lifts his eyes to mine. “Go through every part of this town. Every asshole who ever got a paycheck from him. Find them in their homes, at the bar. I don’t care if they’re balls deep in the back room of a strip joint. Find them, kill them.”
“They die tonight,” Carter talks as he walks to where I was, no doubt judging what it’ll take to make sure Romano’s impaled. It won’t take much at all. It’s just outside the window. “There aren’t many left. We already have locations on most of them.”
“They’ll scatter like roaches if we wait until tomorrow and the FBI doesn’t know yet, but the moment they find Romano, they’ll be everywhere. So we end it tonight,” Daniel agrees, walking to Romano and turning the chair. He has to crouch down to be at his eye level. “Wipe them all out.”
“Start with him,” I speak to Daniel, and he looks over his shoulder at me. His lips are pressed in a straight line, with a grim look covering his face.
“End it,” I tell him. Carter steps to the side, and we all wait.
Pushing the gagged, screaming man with a bright red face to the window, Daniel looks out onto the road – a backroad that will be empty until the morning.
The gag comes off first, bringing a stream of Italian profanity from the dried throat of this dead fuck. Romano pulls on the ropes, fighting as best he can against them. It’s foolish really, he should wait until we untie him for his best chance, but he doesn’t, knowing his end is coming.
Seth’s the one to cut the rope at his feet; one quick swipe and the nylon threads are released. Romano attempts to run, still bound to the back of the heavy leather chair and he falls hard on his side, seething in pain. The crack of his skull hitting the floor ricochets in the room.
With Carter holding his left side and me holding his right, Seth cuts the binds and helps us hold him up, holding him steady and restraining him as he tries to run and fight. I can’t breathe. My muscles are too coiled as Romano struggles with the last bit of strength he has left in him.
Backing him up to the window, I stare at Daniel’s face. I expect anger, I expect hate, but agony is all that’s on his face. It’s still not enough; being the one to end Romano… it’s not enough. It won’t bring Tyler back.
We release our hold as Romano falls backward from the force of the shove Daniel gives him in his chest. Romano’s arms whip out to grab onto whatever he can, but there’s nothing there, nothing that can keep him upright. His scream dulls as he falls the four stories and then it’s silenced.
Staring down at him and the scene, I no longer see Tyler. Th
e street’s empty. All I see is a man who killed all his life, a man impaled with the life draining from him slowly.
Turning to Seth, I tell him, “Check that he’s dead, then find the rest.”
Bethany
It’s been quiet the last few days. Too quiet.
The ominous feeling that settles in when you know things won’t last… that’s in the air. I’ve been breathing it in and suffocating from it. Jase is being careful with me and both of us are feeling bad for the other one.
It’s easy to give someone sympathy, it’s easy to love them. Accepting their love though, accepting it in the way they’re able to give… that’s the difficult part, because that’s where you get hurt.
I forgive him, but I’m waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
Jase is just waiting, on edge and waiting for something… I don’t know what.
The other end of the line goes to voicemail. So I dial the number again, stretching at the end of the sofa. Jase’s non-office is now my hideaway. The smell of old books and leather is too much to resist.
Ring. Ring.
On the second ring, it picks up and I recognize the voice instantly.
“Laura,” I say and my gut falls. I wasn’t expecting her to answer. “I didn’t know you were working day shifts this week.”
Animosity and betrayal stir in my stomach. More than that though, I miss her.
“Bethany?” She sounds surprised to hear my voice.
“I just wanted to call about Michelle, the pregnant patient with pica on floor two, and maybe talk to Aiden…” I trail off, waiting for Laura to tell me she’ll get him. After a few seconds of silence and then the way she says my name, I know that’s not going to happen.
“Bethany,” she says but I can already tell there’s too much sympathy in her tone. “Michelle died two days ago. I’m sorry. I thought Aiden called.”
The leather turns hot under my tight grip. I can barely breathe. When I worked in pediatrics before this for my internship, death was common. It was so common I’d check the paper for the obituaries before coming into work so I’d be prepared. It’s also why I left. At the center, it rarely happens, but now it feels like death’s following me everywhere.