Reckoning

by Fields, Sara

  Neither of them gave me any concern, but I still played it safe anyway.

  I turned when I heard the gentle hum of a Greyhound bus not far away. Its headlights were bright, and I walked forward to meet it. The streetlamp above the steel bench flickered several times as the bus pulled up in front of me. It was a newer model, the chrome along its sides still glimmering with metallic shine. I climbed aboard and the driver asked for my ticket.

  I gave him the name the Father gave me instead.

  He pulled open an app on a tablet and scanned down a list of names. Once he found mine, he nodded and put it down.

  “Pick whatever seat you like. We don’t have another stop until we hit Lucerne, so get comfortable. Restrooms are all the way in the back,” he explained.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” I answered and smiled. I kept my head down though. I didn’t want to be too memorable.

  I made my way down the bus and took an open window seat. There wasn’t a great deal of people on the bus. Maybe this route wasn’t particularly well traveled, or it was just an off night, but I was grateful for that.

  I leaned my head back against the headrest. With a heavy sigh, I started dreading the mental battle that I knew was coming. I had to disconnect from Dean, and I had to do it sooner rather than later. The more I allowed myself to feel for him, the more it was going to hurt in the end.

  I let go of my worry about what the Father was going to do. For now, I’d believe his words at face value. I knew he didn’t typically play games, so I relied on that to try to alleviate the agitation that kept pulsing beneath my skin. I kept telling myself that over and over until I believed it.

  I was still an asset to the family. I’d made them a great deal of money and even the Father knew I could make him more where that came from.

  I turned my head and peered out the window, seeing nothing but darkness outside it. Occasionally, we’d pass a small building on the side of the road or a well-lit park of some kind, but I didn’t really pay close enough attention to see any of it.

  Instead, my thoughts were consumed with the man I’d run away from for a second time.

  At least you aren’t stealing his money this time. This time, it’s worse because he stole your heart first.

  I was doing it to save his life. There was no way I could be selfish enough to stay even though that I was having very real feelings for the first time in my life.

  I don’t know where I had gone wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way and it most certainly wasn’t supposed to break my heart when I walked away.

  The bus went dark, and I pulled up the thin hood of my shirt, so that it covered my hair. There was music playing just loud enough to be peaceful and not overtly annoying. I turned my head toward the window, just as the first tear dripped down my cheek.

  I sobbed in silence, allowing myself to hurt for just this one night. I grieved the loss of the first real love of my life, knowing that I could never see him again. I’d never feel his touch on my skin or his kisses along my neck.

  I said goodbye to Dean, but it was even harder to say goodbye to Daddy.

  A fresh sob tore from my chest and my hand rushed to cover my mouth so that I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t want anyone to ask what was wrong. I just wanted to be alone as I suffered through my own self-made heartbreak.

  Tomorrow would be a better day. It wouldn’t hurt as much when the sun rose if I just cried it all out tonight.

  Chapter 7

  That night, I cried myself to sleep and when the sun rose in the morning, I blinked groggily awake. Someone was pushing a cart through the aisle and silently handed me a Styrofoam cup full of coffee and as I took a sip, I was convinced that it was just straight up gasoline.

  There wasn’t any creamer except the terrible powdered stuff, so I just let it cool before I took another sip.

  It helped. Sort of.

  Actually, that was a lie. It was still one hundred percent jet fuel. I drank it anyway.

  The bus was passing more urbanized areas now and the sound of the driver’s exhausted voice drawled over the speaker system. With a heavy sigh, he announced that we’d be arriving at the bus terminal in just about twenty minutes. I was looking forward to being able to get up and stand after sitting in the same position for so long.

  I blearily drank the rest of the sorry excuse for coffee, hoping the caffeine would chase away the achiness in my limbs. It didn’t and I slumped forward. Maybe once I was able to walk around, my sore muscles would relax.

  When the bus started to slow, I looked out the windows and took in my surroundings. All around me were ancient-looking buildings complete with picturesque red roofs and brilliantly pristine white plaster that practically glowed in the sunlight. The city looked warm and homey and like something out of a fairy tale. The kind of place a girl could dream of living.

  I couldn’t dwell here though. This was only temporary.

  The bus pulled up to the stop as the brakes squealed and the air-locked door opened with a whoosh. The bus emptied and I pushed myself into the aisle. I was one of the last ones off the bus.

  I looked around and when I saw no one waiting, I started walking into the city. I watched a flock of pigeons fly overhead, squawking from whatever had spooked them in the first place. As I strode down the sidewalk, I kept an eye on my surroundings and it didn’t take me long to realize that someone else was walking a short distance behind me. I would have thought it was nothing, but they were working to keep their footsteps aligned with mine. I sped up and they followed suit. I turned into an open alley and pressed my back against the brick wall, waiting for whoever was so keen on keeping up with me.

  “Willow,” a female voice purred. I turned and a tall woman with distinctly Scandinavian features peered back at me. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, so perfect and fierce that it gave her a rather intimidating edge. Intense green eyes bored into mine and I could tell immediately that she was someone very important. She was tall. Probably somewhere close to five foot ten inches or something like that. She was a bit older, maybe in her late thirties or early forties by the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. I knew at once that even with all the experience and training I’d undertaken to get where I was in life, I would be well out of my depth with her.

  For a long time, I contemplated not answering at all, but she obviously knew me and that wouldn’t solve anything to ignore her now that she’d found me.

  “I’m Willow,” I answered hesitantly and her perfectly pink lips curved up into a smile that didn’t feel comforting in the slightest. Instead, it just chilled me to the bone.

  “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she began, and I chewed the inside of my cheek as a fully blacked-out limousine pulled up beside us. “I must insist,” she offered, and she opened the door for me. There didn’t seem to be any other option but to just get in the car.

  “May I ask your name?” I asked, far too tentatively for my liking.

  “The Father sent me to look after you. The people close to me call me Janet, but most people know me as the Fixer. Now get inside,” she replied, and my heart jolted in my chest.

  “But I…” I blurted, and she shook her head.

  “You and I will talk inside the car,” she answered and still I stood frozen. “If you don’t get in, I will signal to my sniper that you’re a lost cause and an unfortunate victim in the crossfire of an unexpected case of terrorism in Lucerne. Maybe a mugging gone wrong. Who knows? I’m very good at coming up with stories.”

  I knew I had run out of time. I was going to die.

  I slid into the backseat and maneuvered all the way to the other side. I didn’t even need to test the door to know that it was likely locked. When she sat down beside me, I had to control my terror as the door closed firmly behind her.

  I had hoped that the Father would grant me mercy, but he’d clearly decided that I’d reached the end of my usefulness. She was here to kill me. She made problems
like me go away.

  As the car pulled away, she moved to sit across from me and crossed her long legs as she leaned back and appraised me with a certain coldness that made me shake with fear.

  “When Father referenced my quick exit, I had hoped he wouldn’t decide that he would have me killed,” I whispered, unable to hide just how terrified I was to have her here with me.

  It didn’t matter now that she knew I was afraid. She’d probably seen grown men beg for their lives time and time again. She likely expected me to be no different, but I wouldn’t go like that. Even if it hurt, and I knew it would, I would die with at least a little bit of dignity.

  “He hasn’t decided to kill you, Willow,” she answered.

  “You don’t have to sugarcoat this for me. I know what you do,” I replied, a certain sadness and subdued acceptance that this would be the way things were going to be.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of how the problems I can’t make go away disappear, but I doubt you’ve heard of all the ones I’ve fixed along the way. That’s what you are, Willow. You’re a problem and it’s my job to fix you and if I can’t… Well, we will talk about that if it comes to that,” she said.

  “The ones you’ve fixed without killing someone?” I finally asked, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously.

  She nodded once and didn’t elaborate.

  “So how do you think you’ll fix the problem that is me?”

  “Perhaps you need a reminder of what’s at stake if you fail to do your job. Or maybe this rather persistent mark of yours needs to be eliminated. It’s possible you just need to have your sights set on a new mark while a protective detail looks out for you. There’s a lot to consider, which is why you and I are going to travel to Portugal together and figure that out,” she explained.

  “I don’t know how he found me,” I whispered.

  I wanted Daddy to hold me.

  I stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden need to have his arms around me. I swallowed heavily, trying not to think about how safe his lap had felt compared to the literal clusterfuck I was in right now.

  I pressed my hands against my thighs, cursing the way my palms grew sweaty like they always did for like the billionth time.

  “We have people looking into that,” she answered.

  “Have they found anything?”

  “Not yet. If he used facial recognition software, we don’t know what kind. We’ve always been careful to place you in different locations across state lines, but if he has access to servers and footage around the world, that poses a bigger problem,” she answered.

  What she really meant was that my usefulness would come to a close and then the Fixer would have to do what she was known for.

  I turned my head, unable to face the woman who had been sent here to kill me.

  “Did you do anything that would make this Dean find you? Did you help him along the way?” she pressed, and I flicked my gaze back toward her in anger.

  “No. I did my job, and I took his money. I left and moved onto another city with a new mark,” I replied forcefully, and her inquisitive expression remained unchanged. I wasn’t sure if she believed me or not and that was more terrifying than anything else.

  “I see,” she responded. Her words were flat, saying nothing and everything in the same breath.

  “Can I ask what happens next?” I questioned, chewing my lip nervously. Her lips lifted up in the slightest smirk and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or if I should be terrified.

  “You and I are going to head to Portugal together. Together, we’re going to focus on a mark, and I am going to supervise you in the process,” she offered. I lifted my chin. Maybe if I embraced the whole thing, she’d decide I wasn’t worth killing in the end.

  “What’s our story? Will you pose as my aunt? Or my sister?”

  She smiled. It appeared that she appreciated my businesslike approach.

  “I’ll be your sister. We’ll dye your hair even blonder and get you some extensions so it’s believable, get you some green contacts. The works,” she replied curtly.

  “I’ll need a new name and everything that comes with that. A driver’s license, all that,” I responded.

  “I’ve already put in the requests. Your name is Emma Johansson. Mine will be Vera,” she said.

  I nodded once.

  “Our backstory?”

  “We’re moving south from our home country of Norway and the two of us are trying to open a bakery together in Lisbon in honor of our late parents. It’s a sweet story, isn’t it?” she explained, and her eyes grew hard.

  “Yes. It most certainly is,” I replied carefully. “How did our parents die?”

  “Their bakery burned down due to an electrical short while they were sleeping upstairs in their apartment. A tragedy, really,” she explained.

  I licked my lips. It genuinely felt like I was walking on eggshells right now.

  “Why Lisbon?” I pressed. I wanted her to know that I took my job seriously. I knew what went into creating a life like this. I’d have to put in several hours of accent work, of memorizing the story of our fictional life together, of getting used to answering to Emma. There were so many nuances to preparing something like this and with the Fixer involved, it would be that much more complicated.

  “Why not?”

  “We should have a reason for choosing Lisbon. Maybe it was our mother’s dream to open another bakery there and since we have a little bit of capital from the insurance policies on the two of them and the storefront, we decided to make Mom’s dream come true,” I offered, and her grin widened.

  I decided to continue. I was good at what I did and there was no use hiding it when it came to her.

  “When you’re finding a mark, it would do well to focus on finding a guy that likes to take care of a woman, especially one that has a sweet spot for a girl in trouble,” I added, and her grin widened even further.

  “What else?”

  “He’ll want to know more about our lives in Norway, so we’re going to have to come up with a deeper backstory. We need more details and we both need to have our stories down, especially if you plan to interact with the mark too,” I warned.

  “The Father said that you were good,” she smiled.

  “I’ve made him a lot of money over the years,” I answered plainly.

  “So he’s said,” she mused.

  “I can be utilized in other ways. I’m loyal to the family,” I added.

  “I’m sure you can be,” she murmured, and she looked away.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To a small private airport. There are no cameras there, so you’ll be able to disappear without a trace,” she answered.

  “And Dean?”

  “He’s been sent a message,” Janet replied.

  “You mean he’s dead,” I replied. I tried my best to hide my fear, but my body had gone cold at the thought. My heart hammered in my chest and my skin felt clammy. A single bead of sweat rolled down the length of my spine, and I felt like even breathing was too much to bear at that moment. I swallowed, trying to get past the ball of cotton on my tongue, but nothing calmed me.

  “He wasn’t killed,” she answered, and an overwhelming feeling of relief flooded through me. Why did I care so much about him when I’d turned my back on him twice now?

  He was just a mark.

  A job.

  But he was also Daddy.

  Janet watched me carefully and I did everything I could to hide the emotions surging inside me.

  “Good. I hope he heeds it this time,” I snarled, using the small hint of anger at my own reaction to hide the regret brewing within me at walking away again. I sat back against the seat, telling myself over and over that I left to keep us both alive. My hand was forced.

  We were never meant to be in the first place.

  “If he doesn’t, he’s an even bigger problem than we thought. It would mean his reach extends past the United States,” s
he said. “There is suspicion that maybe he’s in the FBI, but if he finds you again in Lisbon, it will mean that he could be a part of something much bigger than that.”

  “FBI?”

  “It would give him access to federal resources to find you. Your footprint is nonexistent elsewhere. The only way to possibly track you is through the use of some sort of facial recognition software,” she answered.

  “What about surgery? Can we just bypass the issue with that?”

  “Maybe, but it is also a remote possibility that there are algorithms that correct for that in whatever software that he used to find you,” she said, and I sighed.

  “What would happen if he eventually finds me again?” I finally managed to ask, and I hoped against hope that she didn’t hear the way my voice trembled before I finished speaking.

  “Then I’ll have to fix that, won’t I?” she answered and there was a dangerous edge to her tone that left me feeling as though I failed whatever test she had decided to put me through. I turned my head and a shaky breath rasped from between my lips.

  I peered out the window and noticed that we were pulling up to a closed gate. The driver paused, the metal wall began to open, and we drove forward. Beyond was the private airport. Armed guards were posted along the road and at the entrance to the building with guns that looked far too big for a place like this. I chewed the inside of my cheek, relieved at least a little bit to see a few planes and not a shooting squad waiting to kill me in the distance.

  We pulled up right to the front door and Janet lifted her hand, gesturing to the door.

  “You first,” she said lightly, and I had the vaguest sense of what it might feel like to be a prisoner being walked to the electric chair.

  I smiled tensely and slid along the seat as the driver opened the door for me. I climbed out and Janet followed. She walked in front of me, and I followed, knowing there was nowhere for me to run in a place like this.