Angel of Death

by S. Massery

  “And did you?” she snaps. “Did you accomplish anything you set out to do?”

  I jerk awake as the plane touches down. My head hurts like hell, on top of the dream…

  Zach elbows me. “You okay there, princess?”

  I make a face at him before I rub my eyes. “I’m just glad to be back in the States.”

  “Words I never thought I’d hear you say.” Mason laughs. “You planning on sticking around?” His gaze goes to Hadley, who is in deep discussion with Delia.

  I can only imagine what they’re talking about.

  “I do,” I answer. “Bitterwood is where her family is. It’s quiet. I…” I scratch the back of my neck, unsure if I want to admit this or not. Eh, what the hell. “I bought some land out here about a year back. I’m thinking of building on it.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re not going back to Europe? Ever?”

  “I’m hoping Hadley will want to come to Paris eventually,” I say. “But I think it holds too many bad memories right now.”

  “Agreed,” Dalton says. “Can we get off this fucking plane?”

  “We’re not letting you off,” Reece says to him. “Because I need to fly you home, and god knows how long that will take.”

  “Nope. Fuck that. I’ll drive back to Miami.”

  Reece shakes his head and opens the door. Dalton shoves his way to the front, jumping out before the stairs are all the way down. Hadley is the second one off, and I catch Dalton holding his hand out to help her down the steps.

  “What now?” Delia asks me. “I mean, what’s your plan?”

  I shrug. “I guess I just have to prove to her that I’m not leaving.”

  She nods, pursing her lips. Then she smiles. “Guess we’ll be seeing more of you, then.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “What?”

  “Jackson and I need a place to lie low,” she says. “Hadley suggested Bitterwood.”

  “And where will you be staying?”

  Jackson chuckles. “Careful, Anders. Your pessimism is showing.”

  I scowl and grab my bag, eager to get off the plane. There’s only so much group bonding I can take before things get weird. Plus, Delia and Hadley ganging up on me is not something I’m looking forward to. Ever.

  “Griffin?”

  I spin toward Hadley. She bites one of her fingernails, her other arm crossed over her stomach.

  “Are you…?”

  “Staying,” I say as firmly as I can. “Is that okay?”

  She shrugs. “I guess so.”

  We walk to the car, leaving the others behind. I almost reach out and touch her arm, take her hand, but I can’t. There’s a wall between us.

  “I guess I’ll need to get a new phone,” she murmurs. “Unless you happened to rescue mine?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “My parents are probably worried sick.”

  “We can go visit them.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes. I’m sure they’ll direct all of the anger toward me.” I wink. “Better me than you.”

  She takes a deep breath, then smiles at me. I never thought I’d see another one of her smiles aimed in my direction, and it feels like direct sunlight.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I open the passenger door for her, resisting the urge to help her.

  “We’re miles from where we started,” she says once I’m in the car. “I never thought I’d get a bone marrow transplant. Neither of my parents were a match, and we don’t have family that we talk to. I would’ve had to take my chances with the national registry.”

  “I’m glad I was able to help.” The car is a safe place to admit things.

  We speed down the deserted road. We traveled back in time coming here.

  “I thought I had to leave to protect you,” I say.

  She shakes her head. “On some level, I get it. You wanted to get Santos. You said you did find him?”

  “I did.”

  “What happened?”

  I tell her about setting up a meeting with Ernesto, his promise to help me, and how he reached out to Santos. “I killed him,” I say quietly. “For hurting you. Because Scorpion had been hunting him for so long—Hadley?”

  Her face is white.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Get your head in the game,” she whispers.

  Ice rolls down my back.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  She looks at me, eyes wide. “Dalton said it was something your handlers at Scorpion said? Is that true?”

  I shift. “Everyone said it when we weren’t totally focused on the mission.”

  “Smith wanted to kill me to get your head back in the game.”

  I slam on the brakes, shooting my arm out to stop Hadley from crashing into the dashboard. “What?”

  “Could he be with them? Scorpion?”

  I turn to fully face her. Something has an iron grip on my throat, and it takes a second to place the feeling: fear. Bone-shattering fear.

  In as soft a voice I can manage, I say, “Scorpion isn’t an organization to go up against, Hadley. If they wanted you dead…” I reach out and grab her hand. My whole body is cold. “If they want someone dead, there’s no stopping that force.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Either Smith was acting alone and he used to work for them… or Scorpion is trying to get us back.”

  We opted to leave Scorpion together. The six of us. Really, it was Wyatt’s opinion that first turned us against Scorpion Industries and their methods. The pay was good, the travel was great, the rush of adrenaline was a fix I loved chasing. Once Wyatt pointed out the jobs we did to fill SI’s coffers, a bad feeling took root. He suggested we not renew our contracts, and that was it. We were free.

  I never considered the implication that Scorpion wouldn’t like that decision.

  “We’re okay,” Hadley says. “Smith is gone, the whole crew is here, it’s fine.”

  “They operate more in the darkness than I ever did.” I shake my head. “And Smith was, what, undercover the whole time he was with me? Keeping an eye on me?”

  “I don’t know. He never said anything except the bit about getting your head in the game.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” But I’m freaked out, too.

  “I might’ve misheard,” she mumbles.

  I put my hand back on her leg and pull out onto the road. Off to see her parents, grovel for forgiveness, and…

  Well, I guess I’ll have to figure out the rest.

  27

  HADLEY

  I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. He’s going to push open the window—or maybe the door—at any moment. He’ll kneel by my bed and brush my hair off my face. Maybe he’ll kiss my forehead. I’ll slide back, toward the wall, and let him in.

  And when I wake up, he’ll be gone. That’s his way of saying goodbye, after all.

  Reuniting with my parents went about as well as could be expected. There was a lot of yelling. I held Griffin’s hand and spoke up when their words got too mean. I couldn’t bear all of their sharpness directed at him. He was trying to save me, even if it meant isolating me for six weeks.

  It was my fault, too.

  They both cried when I told them Griffin found me a bone marrow transplant donor. It was just one of those things that seemed too impossible until it actually happened. And, as of a week ago, I was in remission. That doesn’t mean I won’t be going to the doctor’s office every few weeks, then every few months. Eventually, it’ll be every six months, and I am not exaggerating when I say I’m waiting for that day.

  I fall asleep before he arrives, and I wake up alone. The sun shines through the window.

  There’s a certain amount of relief in that. I go down the stairs and kiss my dad on the cheek. They both asked me to stay at their house, and I readily agreed. My apartment… the last time I was there, minus grabbing clothes for my European adventure,
was first getting attacked and then kidnapped.

  “Feeling okay?” Dad asks. He slides me a plate.

  My mouth waters at the stack of pancakes.

  “Thank you.” I take a seat and wait for him to join me, then dig into the pancakes. “You know what's funny?” My mouth is filled with food, and he chuckles. “I didn't realize how little of an appetite I had until it all came roaring back.”

  His smile widens. “We didn’t say this yesterday, but you look so much better.”

  I put down my fork and reach across the table, taking his hand. “I feel better, Dad.”

  His eyes fill with tears.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t—”

  He holds up his hand, silencing me as he dabs at his eyes and clears his throat.

  Every action has a reaction. He was the first one to teach me that after I threw a rock at a girl’s head in fifth grade. Disappearing for almost seven weeks—that action had a major reaction. Sadness. Anger. Betrayal.

  “Mom hasn’t forgiven me, has she?”

  He lifts one shoulder. “She’s seen too many runaway children cases. It made her think the worst when we couldn’t get ahold of you. Especially overseas, where you could’ve been taken by anyone…”

  Griffin and I left out a lot of what happened. All of the violence, actually. As far as they know, he took me to a doctor who could help. They didn’t ask too many questions after that, not after I told them my chance of being cured—the cancer one hundred percent gone—was likely.

  We finish eating in silence, because I don’t have an answer for that beyond more apologies.

  “I’m headed to school,” he says, picking up both of our plates. “What are you doing today?”

  I shrug. “Maybe go to the library. Now that things are looking up, I want to start studying for the LSATs again.”

  Dad stills, then grins at me. “I’m happy to hear that, honey. Your dreams got pushed to the wayside for too long. It’s time to go after them again.”

  I take a deep breath. “Exactly.”

  He comes back over and kisses the top of my head. “Have a good day. I’m sure your mother will be happy to see you later.”

  There was a time when she used to sleep in, let Dad handle getting me to school—he was going that way anyway. As I got older, she left the house earlier and earlier. Today, she was gone before I even woke up.

  “Right,” I mutter as he walks out the door. Once he’s gone, the silence gets to me. It only takes a few minutes of puttering around, and then I’m dressed and out the door, car keys in hand.

  I jerk to a stop.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Griffin.

  He leans against the hood of his car, right behind mine on the curb. He gives me a slow smile that flips my stomach.

  “I wanted to see you,” he says.

  “Okay.” And then I walk to my car and slide in, all while he watches me.

  He doesn’t move as I start my car and pull out onto the street. I get to the corner, about to turn out of sight. He’s still there.

  He’s outside the library when I emerge with a stack of books in my arms. He steps up and takes them, winking at me. We don’t say anything, and I follow him to my car and unlock it. He sets the books on the passenger’s seat, taking a second to brush his thumb over the spines.

  For a split second, I’m jealous of the books.

  He clears his throat and steps back.

  I nod at him, but we don’t say anything. He watches me drive away. Again.

  Rinse. Repeat.

  He doesn't sneak into my bedroom. He does walk me from my doorway to my car each morning, no matter what time I emerge. And slowly—sloooowly—my resolve weakens. My anger lessens. We don’t really talk, but I prefer it that way. I don’t want to hear any more apologies or excuses. He didn’t shove them at me to begin with, but…

  I open the front door now with eagerness. I catch myself before I start smiling when he’s there.

  And one day, I walk outside wearing running shoes. I’ve missed it since I began with Elizabeth. Griffin holds up one hand and moves to his trunk, grabbing a bag and making a beeline for the house.

  He reappears in shorts and sneakers. I can’t withhold the smile anymore—it breaks past the guard I’ve kept up, and he grins back. He keeps pace with me, shoulder to shoulder, for the mile loop around my parents’ house.

  And the next day, we do it again. Again and again. Who needs words?

  28

  GRIFFIN

  “She doesn’t forgive me,” I tell Jackson.

  Him and Delia have been renting a house across town. I didn’t argue—I’m glad for the company. While Hadley has been staying with her parents, she let me stay in her apartment. It’s lonely without her in it.

  “And I don't know what else to do.”

  “You’re being consistent,” Delia interjects from the couch. “And that’s the most important thing. Yeah? She probably is just waiting for you to leave.”

  I shrug. “I’m not going to leave.”

  “What about when you get another job?” Jackson lifts his coffee cup to his mouth, raising his eyebrows at me.

  “What’s the long-term goal?” Delia asks.

  “Hadley is the long-term goal,” I say. “I don’t really know beyond that.”

  I’ve taken steps to shut down my operations, putting out a notice—through Ernesto, of course—that I would no longer be taking on new clients. I gave him back the Amsterdam apartment, having Shade pull my stuff out of the bedroom and ship it to Paris. The phone clients called me on lies forgotten and dead in the bottom of my duffle bag.

  Delia turns around and quirks her lips. “Maybe just… step up the ‘here to stay’ bit.”

  “Hmm.” I grab my keys.

  “Where are you going?”

  I stop and turn back. “I’m following your advice for once.”

  Their laughter follows me outside. I get to her parents’ house and smooth my shirt. Run my fingers through my hair. I’m suddenly as nervous as I was on the plane to Iraq at eighteen years old.

  I ring the doorbell and wait, counting the seconds in my head. Hadley yanks the door open, and her face changes. A smile, then a frown. I wish I could see if I’ve been having any success breaking down her walls, but I don’t think I have.

  “Hi,” I say.

  They’re the first words we’ve spoken to each other in ten days. That’s how long we’ve kept up this charade of silence. I’ve been hoping my actions spoke louder, but now… is the time to change that.

  She steps back, waving me in. “How…” She clears her throat. “How are you?”

  I walk in and kick off my shoes. Her mom always had a thing about shoes in the house. I catch Hadley’s half-smile and figure I’m on the right track. “Parents home?”

  “They’re working,” she murmurs. “It’s a ghost town…”

  I turn back toward her.

  “Sorry,” she says.

  “Why?”

  “Ghost…”

  Ah. Ghost, Il Fantasma, Santos. One man who had too many names and haunted—haunts too many people. He’ll probably stick with us a little longer.

  “It’s okay, Hadley. You can use the word ghost without irking me.”

  She sighs, pulling her blonde hair over one shoulder. Her fingers braid it quickly then drop back to her sides. She gestures for me to go into the living room, and I sit on the couch. She hesitates, then sits next to me. There’s enough space for Jesus and his entourage between us, but I’ll take it.

  “Your mom still mad?” I ask.

  “She’s just avoiding. Now that she knows I’m not on the brink of death, she feels justified in being upset.” She shifts and pulls her leg up underneath her. “Before, Dad was saying how guilty she felt for being upset. So, I guess I can understand it.”

  I frown. “Yeah, but she shouldn’t hold it over your head this long.”

  “Thanks, Griff.”

  “I wanted to tell you�
�” I reach out and grab her hand. I can’t help it. I’ve been resisting for ten days, but the need to touch her has been building in my chest.

  Her fingers lace with mine, and some of the anxiety inside me loosens.

  “I’m here for the long haul, Hadley. I’m not going anywhere—not if you want me to stay.” And even if you want me to leave.

  “You’re not going anywhere for now,” she says.

  “No. I’m not leaving without you beside me. If you want to stay in Bitterwood until we’re old and gray, I’m game.” I tilt my head. “I might need to invent new ways to stay busy… But I’m not leaving until you say so.”

  She lifts her chin. “What if I tell you to leave now?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Then I’d call your bluff. I’d leave.”

  I scoot closer to her, and she sucks in a breath. I touch her cheek, sliding my hand back across her neck and into her hair. Her eyes close.

  “You won’t see me,” I whisper. “You won’t be able to find me. But I’ll still be here, Hadley. I’ll still keep you safe. And you can just say the word when you want me to come back.”

  I lean forward and kiss her forehead. She shudders when my lips touch her skin, but her eyes stay closed.

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the white feather, resting it on the coffee table as I stand and leave her house.

  You can do this, I tell myself. I can give her space. Time. Even if it kills me.

  29

  HADLEY

  I watch Griffin standing at the window in my bedroom and contemplate interrupting him. My whole body is aware of him, and I remember the first time I invited him into bed with me. It was like electricity flowed through me.

  I want that feeling again.

  It’s been too long—almost a week since he came into my parents’ house and told me he would leave if I wanted him to. I didn’t realize leave didn’t mean town. It just meant… me.

  God, do I miss him.

  His gaze finds me, and he freezes. Blinks. Maybe he thinks I’m not real?