by Deana Birch
I tentatively reached for a bundle and examined it in disbelief. The bills were so crisp. They had to be counterfeit. I thumbed through the tight stack. My eyes probably looked like giant saucers and may have been bugging out of my head like a damn cartoon. I checked over my shoulders again. Where were the hidden cameras to prank me?
A new and previously unknown type of tear pooled in my eyes, making all that damn money blurry. A happy sob poured out of me and I grabbed the bag and pulled it to my chest. I rocked back and forth on the floor next to Leo’s bed, trying to let go of all the terror I’d seen in the previous twenty-four hours, ridding myself of my insipid and unremarkable life. Attempting to erase a past that should not have been so ugly.
I stilled. With money, I could do anything. It was absolute freedom—a liberty provided by Leo with the added and precious gift of my life. I could move down to one of those better neighborhoods, get a damn job and put Violet into real daycare.
My daydream came to a screeching halt. What had this cost Leo? If he’d had this kind of money, why the hell had he been in Covington Heights? What, exactly, had he traded, sacrificed for me?
I darted my gaze around the room, but the answer didn’t come. With the bag still pressed into my stomach, I stood and examined the bathroom and closet again. Perhaps the daylight would provide an opening for a clue of where Leo had gone.
But, just as I’d found nothing the night before, I came up empty. I stopped before exiting the walk-in. I turned around, swiped a jersey and shoved it into my bag then found a pair of his shorts and cinched them at the waist.
I was certain I looked like the epitome of a walk of shame, but I didn’t care.
Anton was on the phone in the kitchen and I waited for him to finish.
“Can I, uh, leave this with you?” I pointed to the ceiling. “Mom junkie and all.”
A warm, knowing smile spread across Anton’s face. It made me regret not being able to choose him. There were layers under his stone-cold surface that were worth discovering.
“Yeah, sure. Did you count it?”
“No. I don’t even understand what one of the bundles is worth.” I shivered and sat the bag gently on the counter.
“Fifty thousand.”
My mouth fell open. “How…? Why?”
Anton grabbed the bag and swung it over his shoulder. “Thought you should know, so I don’t take any.” He headed down the hall and said, “It’s safe here. I promise.”
I jogged to catch up with him and pushed around so we faced each other and I was blocking his path. “Will I ever see him again?”
“No—and that’s the way he wanted it.” Anton’s eyes narrowed slightly, probably detecting the rebel in me who refused to accept that answer. He tilted his head in a warning. “Get your shit together and move on, Fiona. Forget him.”
“Right.” Wrong. Well, halfway. I would get my shit together, but forgetting Leo would be impossible. Plus, if he’d really never wanted to see me again, he wouldn’t have shown me so much of his real life. I smiled to myself and went to get my little sister.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Leo
Frankie had handed me my ass on a paper plate. My hopes of messing up his handsome face had died pretty quickly once we’d stepped into the ring. He’d dropped me back off at Nanna’s and I’d crashed on the bed, where I’d been staring at the ceiling for an hour.
Not knowing about Fiona was eating at me like a painful virus. The curiosity and concern had spread from my brain to my heart and was making my skin itch. If I could just see her with my own eyes, I was sure I would feel better.
Had I known it would be so hard to stay away, maybe I would have never left to begin with. I let out a loud battle cry. The internal war I was fighting only had defeats. I’d lost her, lost my friends, lost money, lost my free will. I belonged to Frankie, at least for a while.
I put on my only suit and went out to shop for food and some extra clothes that fit my new lifestyle. I went to Frankie’s tailor and spent the afternoon getting measured.
But I came back to Nanna’s alone. After months of constantly being with a crew and at Anton’s side, I’d forgotten how lonely solitude was. I sat down in Nanna’s chair and tapped my fingers on the arm.
I was a good sneaker. My father had taught me to be more discreet than a shadow. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do. I couldn’t even start ‘working’ for Frankie until I had my new suits. I could go uptown, just look at her and see that she was okay, come back then sleep through the night.
No one would see me, I was sure.
But what if she wasn’t okay? What if the drugs they’d given her had flipped an addiction switch in her brain? What if she was using the money I’d left to get high with her mom and her fucking life was over? What if she’d fallen into a depression? What if she was on fucking Anton’s arm?
Fucking fuck fuck.
I could hear my father and Frankie in my head, lecturing me on my stupidity. They were right. I should not go back to Covington. It was a rookie move fueled with passion. But had either one of them ever had a magnetic pull from a woman?
Besides, it was just to see her. I wouldn’t talk to her. I’d just assess her wellbeing for a good night’s sleep. Fuck. I sounded like a stalker, although ‘stalker’ sounded better than ‘dude crushing on a chick he’d killed three people for’.
Yeah. Nothing good would come from me laying eyes on her. And that was exactly why the rebel in me stood, marched out of the door and hailed a cab.
I had him drop me all the way East and zigzagged my way until I was in the alley behind our building. Correction…my former building. I snuck down the narrow path and stopped next to the hose.
At the bench, Jackson and a few of the crew held court. No Anton, no Fiona. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were dealing and had a couple of groupies watching them from the park. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since the fight, and other than some bruises and scabs, there was no sign anything had changed.
Business as usual.
I crept back to the alley and hesitated. Going into the building was risky. I might get seen, although deflecting questions wouldn’t be a problem. The issue would be more why I’d come back after I’d made it clear that I was gone for good.
But Fiona was too close, her pull too strong. That was why I slipped into the still-broken emergency exit and climbed seven flights of stairs. I peeked through the doorway and down her hallway. It was as abandoned and as run-down as it always had been.
But the muffled voices perked my curiosity, and I left the stairwell and pressed my ear against the door to her apartment.
Fiona’s mom screamed, “You can’t just take her! She’s not yours!” Her high-pitched shrill reminded me of the insults that junkies yelled at us when they were itching for a fix. I should probably have been thankful that Vicki was alive, but I couldn’t help wondering if Fiona would have been better off without her—not that I was going to make that happen.
“Violet deserves better. She’s just a baby.” The strength in Fiona’s voice brought a small smile to my face. She wasn’t as broken as I’d thought she might be.
“No. It’s out of the question. If I lose her, I lose part of my benefits.”
Fiona groaned. “Fucking fine. You make this easy for me and I’ll pay you the difference.”
“Double.”
I could practically see Vicki’s evil smirk through the door. It would have been easy to call her a selfish bitch. But she was an addict, something Anton and I had counted on in others just like her. Drug dealers didn’t get to judge their customers. Their cravings paid our bills.
“I’m going to the deli to get dinner.”
Shit.
As the knob turned, I darted down the hall and flattened myself against the wall in a dark corner.
The door to Fiona’s apartment didn’t slam. Instead, she closed and locked it quietly then tucked her keys into the back pocket of her cut-off shorts.
She scrubbed her face and whimpered. Fiona leaned into the doorframe and spun slowly so that her back was to the wall. After a deep sigh, she slid down the wall and held her head in her hands, knees supporting her elbows.
The shaking of her shoulders and quiet sobs were a far cry from the tone she’d had with her mother. The fortitude I’d thought I’d registered in her voice had been an act. Once again, Fiona was putting her sister first. And, once again, no one had her back.
The list of my mistakes grew exponentially as I took a cautious step toward her. Fiona lifted her head and her mouth went agape before turning into a deep frown. Tears streamed down her lovely cheeks and she sniffed.
It was what I’d been afraid of, that she wasn’t okay at all. And it ripped my heart out right then and there.
She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve and sucked in a stuttered breath. Her sweet eyes looked up to me before more tears pooled in their corners.
“Are you real?”
I sat down next to her and did the one thing I’d been aching to do since I’d known she’d been taken. I pulled her into my lap and wrapped my arms around her. Docile Fiona was somehow smaller than her normal self and she fit like a tiny ball with her head on my chest. I smoothed her hair and her breathing slowed.
Holding her was instantly addictive. Her tiny wiggles, soft scent and normally well-hidden vulnerability were a gift she didn’t share with many. I’d seen them briefly the night we’d camped and I knew I was privileged to witness something that she wouldn’t show again any time soon.
Our quiet moment whispered a beautiful lie that we would be okay, that we had each other.
Fiona slipped her hand inside my jacket and in a quiet voice she said, “I saw you. You killed them. I didn’t want you to do that, not for me.”
If she thought I would confess or confirm, she would be mistaken. In the years of training, my father had said, ‘Never, ever, admit to anything.’
She seemed to understand there wouldn’t be an answer, and her free hand fiddled with a button on my shirt.
“They said you were gone.”
I closed my eyes. I should have been gone—definitely not where I was, holding the most precious piece of my life.
Fiona swiveled quickly and stared me in the eyes, a small fire behind her own. “Can you fucking say something? They shot me up with drugs and I’m worried I’m fucking hallucinating here.”
I grinned. “There she is.”
A little smirk crossed her lips and she maneuvered again so we were face-to-face and she straddled me. “Why are you here? In a fucking suit? Why did you give me all that money and where the fuck did you get it?”
“That’s a lot of questions. Pick one and I’ll be honest. I promise.”
Her gaze fell and she scrutinized my face. When our eyes met again, the innocence looking back at me shattered my soul. But there was more—a hopeful plea and a quivering lip.
In a whisper, she asked, “Why are you here?”
The energy between us thickened and my mouth went dry. A brief glimpse of another life, where I would be free to love her, be there for her, hold her like I was whenever I wanted to, flashed behind my eyes and gripped my heart. But the choices I’d made to keep her alive meant the death of that pipe dream.
And with the possibility of a life with her in the grave, I was afforded the right to be fucking honest and true—something I’d hadn’t done much of in my life. I started, “Do you think, deep, deep down inside, where you know what’s real and not real, that I could have not come here?” The truth of my own words shocked even me and my chest tightened. “How could I not be here?”
Fiona’s chest rose and fell. She snaked her hands from my stomach to my shoulders, wet her lips and swallowed. I wondered if the lump in her throat was a big as the one in my own.
“You saved my life…twice.” She looked away. “I…I can’t pay you back.” Fiona slumped then shot me a look with raised eyebrows. “And the money… Leo…”
“Fi, the money is yours. You’re saving Violet’s life every fucking day, one push on a swing at a time. Don’t act like your sacrifice is nothing.”
Fiona closed her eyes tight and rested her head on my shoulder. “I was convinced that we had something. I don’t know…”
“We did, Fi. We did. I don’t think it was love, but there was a connection. I felt it, too.”
She sat back up. “And now you’re leaving me, just when we could be honest about all of this?”
I nodded. “I have to.”
Fiona brushed my cheek, pushing my stubble in the opposite direction that it’d grown. “Can we kiss goodbye? ’Cause the idea of you not annoying the shit out of me ever again and smacking my ass is pretty fucking depressing. And that’s saying a lot considering—”
I pulled her into me, my smile against her lips quickly morphing into the passion she’d created in my soul. I grabbed her ass—that delectable fucking ass—and dug in. I gave exactly zero fucks if she walked away with my handprints as proof that I wanted her. She trembled and rocked on my crotch, tempting and luring my cock to harden. The kiss was frantic, both of us hungry for our fill and knowing it was the last time we’d get a chance to share whatever the fuck it was we had. We couldn’t kiss deep enough, fast enough, furious enough. There was no point in thinking about what it meant or where it would go. It was unabbreviated lust in its purest form, and the ability to be honest about it only fueled my need.
But it couldn’t last. We couldn’t last. I tempered the kiss, slowing with pecks of my swollen lips. “I have to go.”
Fiona nuzzled into me. “I’m not moving.”
I dropped my head back into the cement wall behind me. “Trust me. Staying away from you is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” With more willpower than I thought myself capable of, I pushed her off my lap and stood. Looking at her again, taking her all in, would have been the final blow that I was sure would have kept me in Covington Heights. I was already pushing it.
I walked down the hall, and just as I opened the door, she said, “You’re hot in a suit.”
The grin on my face led me all the way down the steps, through the alley and back to the East Side, where I found a cab.
With a little pep in my step, I climbed the stoop of Nanna’s brownstone and punched in the code. In her chair, with his fingers steepled, sat Frankie, a bored and disappointed frown on his olive-skinned face.
“That? That was a mistake, little brother.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fiona
The gate creaked and Jackson held out his arms for J.J., who barreled toward his daddy.
“Hey, big man.” I tucked my new phone into my back pocket and smiled to Jackson as I walked over.
“Hey, Sis.” He kissed his son’s cheek then let him back down. J.J. blabbered something to Violet, who clapped her hands in excitement. “I hear you got that job. Nice.”
I smiled and nodded. “I just have to work there for a month, then I can ask for temporary custody. Social services wants to see a paycheck.”
We walked over to the swings and sat down, gently swaying back and forth. There had been a calm that had swept over Covington Heights after my nightmarish abduction. The crew had saved two of their girls and Bradford had taken a blow physically and reputation-wise. I’d even seen new customers in the courtyard. It seemed like Anton was winning the territorial war on drugs.
I studied Jackson. He had become a friend, as odd as it was. “Can I ask you something?”
He slowly turned to me with a knowing grin. “About your boy?”
I picked a cuticle and swiveled. “Yes.”
That goodbye kiss had played on repeat in my brain for the better part of two weeks—two weeks where I’d started to get my shit together. Step One, gainful employment, was a box I’d officially ticked off. With the help of a few of Anton’s family connections, I’d gotten a job as a hostess in a restaurant downtown. Luckily, the only requirements were a smile and manners
.
My next step was to find an apartment out of the neighborhood.
Jackson rubbed his shiny bald head. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t think even Anton does.” He let out a small sigh.
I continued, “Do you know anything from that night?” It was the first time I’d asked anyone. The aftershocks of emotional trauma hadn’t let me think too much about what had happened, what could have happened. But I was sure of what Leo had done…for me.
After a little hesitation Jackson said, “Rafa told me they dropped him and picked him up in midtown, then dropped him again a few blocks away from the building where they found you. That’s all I got.” Jackson opened his hands then stuffed them in the front pockets of his jeans. “We’re gonna stay in touch, right? These two little monkeys would be sad to leave each other.”
There would be nothing mournful about my departure from Covington Heights. Leaving the poverty and filth behind would be just fine by me. Violet and I would start a new Chapter. Hell, a whole new story. I had changed too much to stay within the blocks where I’d grown up. And when the social worker had suggested I see a counselor for emotional support, I’d taken the business card and seriously contemplated it.
Jackson stood, still waiting for my answer. I rose as well and snaked my arms around his giant, strong body. “We are absolutely going to stay in touch. I want to hear more about you and Lisa.”
He hugged me tight then held me at arm’s length. “You noticed that, huh?”
I tried to hide my smirk. “You mean you, in your underwear scratching your ass when I dropped off Violet yesterday? That was pretty hard to miss.”
Jackson lifted his eyebrows and bit his plump bottom lip. He jutted his chin in my direction. “You check me out?”
“Oh, yeah.” I exaggerated. “You are one fine piece of man meat.” I did a little dance with my shoulders and allowed an honest, playful grin to spread on my face. Damn, having a light conversation with a friend was nice—fucking normal even. It gave me hope for the future. Maybe I could become one of those easy breezy girls who batted eyelashes and men took to dinner. I just needed to survive one month of work, getting a new place and organizing childcare for Violet. I was sure I could find a rhythm, chase down an average life and kiss its boring-ass face.
