by Frankie Love
“We’ll show you a good time,” the first one said.
The third handed my phone back. “Or at least, you’ll see us having a good time. You better get the mick on the phone though, puta, or that’s all you’re ever going to see.”
I had the distinct feeling nothing I did would change their plans for me. All I wished now was that I could do something to protect Paul. I had no idea what I had done, but it was me they came to so I knew somehow I brought this on myself, and on him.
Before they bundled me out of the apartment, they blindfolded me and strapped my hands behind my back with a painful zip-tie that cut into my wrists. Then they forced me down the steps. Every step, I thought they were about to pitch me headfirst down the concrete stairway. Or over the handrail.
But, when we got outside, two of the men lifted me into the trunk of a car.
I’ve bounced and bumped in total darkness in the suffocating heat on the hard, prickly carpet for about twenty minutes.
And now the vehicle comes to a stop. The air cools when the trunk pops open. Under the blindfold, some light soaks through. A huge pair of hands grab my waist and hauls me out like a sack. Then I’m carried into the still, fetid air of a dusty building.
I’m dropped onto some sort of a cot. Then, footsteps walk away. A heavy door slams and a lock clicks. I’m alone, bound, blindfolded with a blanket draped over me.
I’m cursing myself for getting into this. And Paul, too. Whatever they want, they want it from him. After the phone call, all the threats and talk of pussy stopped. It makes me think they only did that to put me in terror when I spoke to him. And I didn’t even hear his voice.
I would have liked to hear him. Maybe one last time. The O’Malleys lead a thrilling and glamorous life, but it couldn’t ever have been my life. They can take things like this in their stride. Kidnapping, violence. Murder. And all the other things. I know. JoJo says that it’s all part of the Life, as she calls it.
Whatever it is, I know I’m not cut out for it. Not that it matters. This is probably the end of the line for me. No point crying about it. It is what it is.
All the same, I can be proud of myself, really. Hold my head up. Inside I’m hollow. Nothing but an icy space, shivering with fear.
Anything he does to find me will put his life in danger. And the last thing I want is for Paul to risk his life for me.
I don’t want to die. Of course I don’t. But if something happens to Paul I will never forgive myself.
Chapter Eight
Paul
The desert road is rough, but I run the Hummer fast. It was made for this type of work. Over the roar of the engine, John says, “We should wait for the others. There’s no way of knowing who’s in there or how many of them.”
We’re closing on the disused industrial site. It’s clearly visible from here. Isolated in the desert scrub, I can make out two vehicles inside the gated chain-link fence.
“It’s true, John.” I’m accelerating hard. “Look at the terrain, though. There’s nothing for miles.”
Peter knows what I’m saying.
“He’s right, John. This road is dead straight. They’ll have seen us for the last two miles.”
“No.” John checks through the weapons one last time. “You’re right. Will this fucking thing go any faster?”
He hands three pistols each to Peter and me, and two rifles each. We already have magazines of ammo threatening to wreck our suits.
John and Peter chamber rounds as I jam the gas pedal to the floor and point the heavy Hummer at the gates.
As soon as the gates burst, I stamp hard on the brakes. We start to skid right after we blast into the lot.
John and Peter shove their doors wide open. Before the vehicle stops, they roll out. Peter has an automatic in each hand and his rifles strapped over his shoulders. John holds an AR-15 out, straight and steady.
A door opens in the main building and a man steps into the doorway. His hands are down and I can’t see if he’s holding anything.
He ducks fast, to a crouch. Extends both arms out. A gun in each hand. Without thinking, I hit the gas.
The Hummer smacks into the doorway and he’s dropped out of view.
Peter and John run, crouching low, along the walls toward the door.
Fast, I reverse. Enough to clear the door.
Enough to see the figure crumpled on the floor.
John and Peter run inside. I’m straight behind them. One Glock pistol drawn, gripped in both hands.
The building was a warehouse or a factory. Now it’s just a lot of unlit derelict space. Mostly empty space.
A high gallery, littered with big packing cases, runs around the walls of the main area.
The place is a nightmare to enter and attack. Easy to defend. Especially for a sniper on the gallery. We all look up and nod.
Peter, John and I all think the same thing. Peter flings one stun grenade, then another, up to the gallery by the biggest pile of cases. John does the same, aiming at another stack.
Aiming an AR-15 rifle up, sweeping along the gallery, I run out to the center of the room just as the grenades explode. Smoke billows and holes blow out of the mesh gallery floor.
A figure leans out from behind the first pile. I get two shots off. He ducks back. When he jumps out the other side of the cases, I’m ready. He’s fast, though. I aim ahead of him. One crack of the AR-15 and he goes down. I send up another volley of shots. He’s not moving.
Peter and John have the two doors covered. Peter says, “They’ll come at us in force through one of the doors.” We move backward to the middle of the exposed space.
John pulls out two grenades. I touch his hand. “Easy, though.”
“Of course,” he nods, “they could have her with them.”
“I have an idea.”
I stay in the middle of the room with an AR-15 in each hand. Peter and John press against the walls, one by each door. A man jumps into the doorway on the left. I raise the rifle in my left hand. Peter jumps out from the side. He presses his gun against the man’s temple.
I aim the AR at him. He drops his weapon. John walks him toward me.
I shove the mercenary face down with my knee in his back.
“How many men are here?”
“You got Falco at the door and Gene on the balcony. There’s just me and one more, now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. There’s six of us left, but the others went to get supplies. We didn’t think you’d find us so fast.”
That’s okay. Our men can deal with them when they get back.
I lean on his back. “Tell me where she is and I’ll let you go.”
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t ever lie.” I put the gun barrel against the fleshy back of his knee. “Wait three seconds, though, and you’ll have a really tough getaway.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Two…”
“All right. All right. I’ll take you.”
“Tell me first. One…”
“Down this hallway, left at the end.” He’s talking fast. I think he believes me now. “There are three doors. She’s in the last room.”
I keep the gun against his ribs as I pull him up by his ear.
“You walk in front. When she’s safe, you’re safe.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“What difference does it make? Have you got a plan B?” I shove him ahead with the gun barrel. “Hands behind your head, asshole.”
Peter comes along, and John stays back to cover the entrance.
I keep the mercenary in front of me down the hallway. When we make the turn, Drago is in the hallway, blocking the way. Huge and ugly as ever, the Morettis’ captain and chief enforcer holds a long-magazine Uzi in each hand.
His laugh is a wet, snarling rasp. “Time for hard negotiating, Paul motherfucking O’Malley.”
“Sure, Drago.”
Without breaking step, I shoot his knee.
He drops one of the guns as he falls. I shoot his wrist so he won’t be using the other Uzi.
“Make me your best offer, Drago,” I say, moving the gun barrel back onto the henchman, still walking. “Maybe I’ll call you an ambulance.”
Peter moves forward to pick up the Uzis and take Drago’s mobile phones.
I ask the mercenary, “Who’s got the key?”
“Drago.”
“Get it.”
She’s not moving. Slumped on a cot, she’s covered in a black blanket.
My heart stops as I rush to her. “Lucy?”
“Paul?”
Her voice is small and weak.
Quickly I take off the blanket, undo the blindfold, and cut the zip-tie that binds her hands.
I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She’s shaking.
“I’m afraid.”
“You are absolutely safe. I promise you, Lucy.”
John and Peter guard Drago and wait for the rest of the team. I carry Lucy quickly out to the Hummer. Carefully, I put her in the back and strap her in. I don’t want to be more than an inch away from her, but I need to be certain she’s safe.
I drive fast over the wrecked gates and out.
Speeding along the bumpy road, a black van looms, headed toward us. They’re driving in the middle of the road. Probably our backup. I’ll have words later about how long they took to get here.
A man with a rifle leans out of the side. I swerve just as the muzzle flashes. Four, six times. The Hummer bounces off the road. Then we smack into something. The airbag goes off and I wish I’d fastened my seatbelt.
Everything goes quiet and dark. Then black.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
The noisy hospital waiting area is washed in a harsh acid light. I wish I could melt into the plastic chair. I would sooner slide down a wall or dissolve into the linoleum floor than sit here, just waiting.
All his family is here. All of them are making a point of not blaming me. What does it matter? I blame me.
Paul’s brothers Peter and John huddle in the far corner around their father, Liam, the tall patriarch.
I can’t believe my selfishness is the cause of all this. Everybody knows about the endless simmering feud between the Morettis and the O’Malleys. Now I’ve been the careless spark that started a brush fire. Who knows who will get hurt or maimed or even killed as a result?
A tired-looking doctor steps through the doors of a private room with his hands in his pockets. I left Paul bandaged and unconscious in the center of a web of tubes and wires. Flashing and chirruping machines around him, drip bags of blood and clear fluid suspended above him.
The doctor looks around the waiting area as he asks, “O’Malley? Who’s here for Paul O’Malley?”
Everybody in the room turns and rushes toward him. The doctor shakes his head. He lifts his hands and says, “Next of kin?”
My heart drops.
The doctor only wants Liam. Grudgingly, he agrees to take both brothers with him into a side room.
I’ve been fighting back the tears, but now I have to turn away from JoJo sitting beside me.
It takes me a moment to get control of myself.
“This is all my fault, JoJo. All of this. The whole O’Malley family is in so much pain because of me, because of my mess and the horrible consequences of whatever the fallout will be.” I’m biting my knuckles. “And Paul…” I turn back to JoJo. “I practically lured him into this. That was what they wanted. They took me to get to him. I was the bait in their trap.”
I keep the tears back. All except one. One long, thin stream pops out and spills down my cheek.
“How do you stand it, JoJo? How do any of you?”
She takes my hand. “We’ve all been there, Lucy. Most of us more times than we can say,” she squeezes my hand in hers, “and I’m not saying that to normalize it or to say ‘it gets easier,’ because it doesn’t. It never hurts less. It’s never any easier.” She pulls on my hand and looks straight in my eyes, “But it’s not your fault, Lucy. It’s not any of your doing.”
“They took me, JoJo…”
She shakes her head. “You can’t think that way.”
Paul’s sister Mary stands over us. She has her eye on the consulting room where the doctor took the O’Malley men. “Tell me what happened, Lucy.” She lays a firm hand on my shoulder and bends closer. “From the start. Tell me everything. Piece by piece.”
JoJo suggests we get coffee for everyone and takes me to a little café in the hospital.
I know she’s just trying to give me a break. I can see the concern in her face.
I ask her, “How do you cope with this? All of the time. It must be constant. You must be on the edge at every moment. Always living with the threat of danger. Violence… how do you deal with it? How can you live with this, JoJo?”
I know I sound like I’m on the verge of hysteria, but JoJo’s face is calm, soft. Sympathetic. She puts her hand on mine.
“You had a fucking awful experience, Lucy. You must have been scared out of your wits.”
“You wouldn’t have been.”
JoJo smirks. “They wouldn’t have tried it with me. I’m a fighter, remember? And if they did, I’d have made them wish they hadn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure Paul made them wish that.” I choke on his name. “He risked his life, JoJo. Just to get me out. He shouldn’t…”
She squeezes my hand. “Paul knew what he was doing. He always knows what he’s doing.”
“He put me in the back of the car, JoJo. He strapped me in tight.”
“He always knows what he’s doing.”
Liam O’Malley’s face is gray and drawn as he steps out of the consulting room with Peter and John. His eyes burn with anger. Mary goes straight to him.
I tell JoJo, “You must want to hear.”
She puts her hand on mine. “But I know that you do, too, Lucy. We’ll find out together.”
“JoJo, the truth is I don’t know if I can take it. What if the news…” My head shakes as Liam walks solemnly toward us. “I don’t think I can do this, JoJo.”
When Liam asks me how I’m doing, I’m close to cracking. He sees that JoJo needs news of her brother, and he’s kind enough to include me.
“The surgeon says that Paul is strong. The fact that he’s still here, that he’s fighting, is a very good sign. It’s reason to hope.”
My lip trembles and I feel the twitch in my eyebrow. Liam goes on. “The next eighteen hours are critical. Tonight will be the most dangerous time.”
He looks at me as he says, “Paul needs us with him. Those who love him can give him strength. He needs to feel us all near him. Feel us around him. Rooting for him. Willing him on. He needs to hear our thoughts and prayers.”
I don’t want to say that I’ve not been a strong or devout churchgoer, but Liam says, “It doesn’t need to be formal. Paul never had much time for priests, he just needs to feel all of our strength.”
Still hanging back in the doorway to his sterile room, I look at the man of my dreams laid out under hospital blankets. His life is suspended by pumps and wires. The only sounds in the room are the chirps and beeps of the machines that monitor his vital signs.
And it makes no difference what JoJo says. I know that this is because of me.
When Liam O’Malley comes to speak to me alone later, a chasm of fear opens inside me. He’s the law and the prophet in this family. His eyes are relentless. I know that he will see straight through me.
He has the knack for directing his voice so that only the person he’s speaking to can hear. Even when he speaks quietly to me, the power in his voice is like a sermon from on high.
“Lucy, you’ve had a terrible shock. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that, but it’s no consolation now. Thomas, our driver, is outside. Take yourself home, get a shower. Or go to the O’Malley compound if you prefer. You’re always more than welc
ome. Whatever you want.”
“I’m okay.”
He takes my hand gently, but I feel his strength. “I’d hate to be contradicting you, Lucy.” He really sees through me. “Paul is going to be under sedation tonight at least. Make yourself comfortable. Get some rest.”
Reluctantly, I agree.
He tells me, “This should never have happened, Lucy. There’s a code. Family members are all off-limits. Sisters, daughters, wives, children, anyone. Especially innocent females.”
“But I’m not…”
“You’re as good as. And the Morettis should know that.” He lifts my chin. “So don’t you worry. Paul is tough. I’m sure he’s going to get through this.”
I nod.
“And Lucy,” he hasn’t let go of my hand, “just for now, wherever you go, have Thomas take you. We don’t want there to be any more misfortunes.”
Chapter Ten
Paul
A white room comes into focus. Too slowly. I’m in a strange bed and I can’t move. Dull, annoying machines beep all around me.
As my eyes adjust, I feel like I’ve been asleep or unconscious for a week. My head, my arms, and my chest have wires and tubes attached to them. Dad stands over the bed.
With a shock, I remember the crash. I jolt upright. “Where’s Lucy?”
Some of the tubes yank out of my arm. A stand with a drip topples. My head hurts. “Dad, is she okay? Where is she?”
He lays a strong hand on my forearm. “She’s safe, Paul. Relax.”
“I need to be with her, Dad. I have to protect her.”
Dad nods. “It’s all fine. She’s not hurt, and I have Thomas looking after her.” Thomas is a good man. But I need to see her. Dad tries to press me back down onto the bed.
