Water

by Anna Petrovich

  “Do you need a medic, son?” Ethan shook his head, then doubled over as a wracking cough caused blood to stream out of his mouth.

  “This is a military operation, sir. The commanding officer needs the report immediately, it can’t wait.” The older man nodded, then gripping Ethan’s arm and supported him on the way to a black suburban.

  “Where to?” He climbed in, the engine revving as the key turned in the ignition. Ethan leaned forward, gritting his teeth against the pain, plugging in the address before sinking back, groaning. As the suburban nosed its way into traffic, they saw a man running out of the building and aiming his gun at the vehicle. The driver shoved his way deeper into the lanes of traffic, the bullets flying wildly. “Who’d you piss off, son?”

  “Gaspar Patricks.” Ethan’s voice was strained, his body struggling to fight the urge to pass out and escape the pain.

  “That’s the slippery bugger who we’ve been trying to pin for the murder of Miss Angelica Parks. Talk to me. Tell me everything.” His eyes were clear, honest, and piercing. Instantly, Ethan made the decision to trust him. As he spoke, it was interrupted by wracking coughs of pain intermittently. “You’re in deep.”

  “Yes, sir.” They pulled up to the curb of the house, both of them throwing open the doors. Ethan’s legs buckled underneath his weight, causing him to sink back against the tires. His older friend walked around, offering a hand up and supporting the younger man’s weight. Two children came running out the front door, saw the men, then returned inside. They appeared again with Antione, holding a steaming pan in his hand. It clattered to the floor, the eggs flying in every direction.

  “What happened?” He asked, helping the other man carry Ethan inside and onto the couch.

  “No time.” Ethan interrupted, groaning as the old man pulled off the blood-soaked shirt and opening the wounds again. “Where’s Amber?”

  “She’s with Colonel Morgen, they were trying to locate you, until Tessa returned with an address.”

  “No.” His eyes widened from panic, his breath coming in fast short gasps and his hands gripped Antione’s arm. “You can’t let them go to that office building. Not now. A phone…”

  “I’ve got a contact who might be able to help.” The older man who had driven him there, pulled out his phone. “He’s got experience in putting a stop to illegal and criminal operations, especially in cartel wars.” Antione continued to treat the wounds with alcohol and antiseptic, wrapping them gently in clean cloths. Both children stood in the background, terrified by what they were witnessing. Ethan was beginning to slip into unconsciousness from the pain, jaw set to stop the groans.

  “Who is this man, Ethan?” Antoine asked, gently bathing the young man’s face with cool water.

  “…No idea…” A breathless gasp escaped the chapped lips, his fever beginning to rise and blur his mind. “…he’ll get us…Amber…”

  “Tyler’s gotten in contact with them. They’re on their way back right now. Also, sorry, I have shocking manners. The name’s Carlson, Edward Carlson. And your names are…?”

  “Ethan…Ryde.” The wounded man relaxed, allowing himself to pass into unconsciousness.

  “Antione Dubois, mon dieu, poor boy.” He saw the man start, eyes again running over the face of the unconscious form on the couch. This was the man that the American ex-colonel had held in such high regard. His decision was final – Ethan Ryde was the man they were looking for.

  22

  The door shook from the blows descending on it, Antione shuffled through the hallway while sipping his steaming cup of coffee. His eyes widened at the sight of a distraught young woman on the porch, clothed in a blue Hijab. “I’m looking for a Colonel Almira Morgen.” She spoke with a trembling lip and liquid almost brimming out of her eyes.

  “She’s not here, but come inside. It’s safer.” Antione let the way into the kitchen, pouring her a cup of coffee and sliding it across the counter. “Cream or sugar?”

  “It’s fine.” She sipped it, hands wrapped around the warm ceramic mug and relaxing for the first time since being abducted. “I need to talk to Almira. Ethan is still with those terrible men.”

  “Ethan?” Antoine tensed, his fatherly instinct rising in his chest and a look of concern on his face. “Is he alright?”

  “No, they’ve been torturing him. He might be dead now.” Antione ignored her tears and grabbed up a phone.

  “Amber, the girl has returned. Ethan’s in serious trouble. You need to move fast.” He leapt up and rushed off into the bedroom, returning with a semi-automatic rifle. “We’ll be waiting.”

  “Grandpa?” The boy came out of the back room, struggling to climb up on the stool at the counter. “Who is this?”

  “A friend, James.” Antione replied, sliding the rifle into hiding in the pocket of his large apron. “Use your manners, though.”

  “Hi.” He said shyly, waving his small hand in Tessa’s direction before disappearing into the living room.

  “Your friend is on her way. Would you like some breakfast? The children and I were having eggs and pancakes.” Tessa smiled, sliding off the stool and offering to assist in the preparation.

  “So, Ethan is married?” She asked, slicing the onions and trying not to cry as it stung her eyes.

  “Engaged last night.” Antione replied, cracking the eggs into a bowl and stirring them with a metal whisk. The door opened and Amber came rushing in, followed by Morgen on crutches, and Logan tailing with a bag.

  “Darling.” He dropped it to the floor and grasped her in a warm embrace, kissing her gently.

  “Almira, the men are at the office building across from the new Island Coffee shop.” She tried to shove him off, worry straining her voice.

  “What about Ethan?” Amber was trembling, her eyes riveted on the other woman’s face and chest moving rapidly.

  “They have him.” Tessa nearly burst into tears, remembering the horrible torture that they had forced him to submit to as she watched. “He’s been tortured.” The older woman sank onto a stool, breaking down for a brief moment.

  “We’ve got to move.” Morgen said, feeling a twinge of guilt at the brief sensation of pleasure in seeing her romantic rival in emotional distress. The woman left the house in silence, climbing into the vehicle and taking off. “What was the layout of the inside of the building, Tessa?”

  “It has around twenty floors…we were on the…third, but that was the man at the desk in some kind of office.” Amber slid a photograph in front of the woman’s eyes.

  “Is that him?” Tessa looked at it for a moment, remembering the voice and the pain of her rescuer.

  “Yes. Who is he?” She leaned forward between the two seats and watching the road, flying by.

  “Gaspar Patricks. A city crime boss who has his finger in every political and economic pie. The authorities can’t touch him and half of them are on his payroll.” Morgen’s voice was bitter, the work of two years weighing on her shoulders.

  “How long can a man survive after losing blood and enduring pain?” Her question made both woman cringe inwardly and react in pain outwardly.

  “It depends on the amount of blood lost.” Amber replied, calculating the equation in her mind, bringing back memories of a nursing class that she’d snuck out to while Wade was on a drinking binge. “He could lose around three pints before that could cause his system to shut down. The pain won’t kill him, unless the circulatory shock overloads the brain.” Her face had gone white with fear, the beating of her heart echoing in her ears. I could lose him…for good.

  “She’s right.” Morgen agreed, her own face blanching slightly from the thought of seeing this man die, rather he marry another woman. The vehicle pulled into the warehouse where several men rushed forward with guns at the ready. A young woman gestured for them to stand down before returning to examining a map of the city.

  “We’ve got it narrowed down to a warehouse on the opposite side of the river.” She spoke while pointing to a red cir
cle on the map.

  “He’s in town.” Tessa corrected, looking for the street name and pointing at the name of the coffee shop. “In an office building, across from this coffee shop.”

  “Great. Dhamar, bring up the building schematics.” A man at a makeshift desk began typing on his keyboard, the green lines of code moving at unnatural speeds.

  “There’s a problem.” He said, hair falling into his eyes before it was shaken to the side with a quick motion of the head. “Gaspar Patricks owns this building, livings in this building to all public appearances. The guy spends half the night and all of the day in his office, probably to establish his bogus alibis.” Zara bit her lip, mind running along a dangerous path. The other woman sat in silence, even Logan kept his mouth shut.

  “We’ve gotta risk it.” Morgen said, saying everyone’s though out loud and checking her gun.

  “Wait!” Dhamar pointed at the screen – words typing themselves as though through a magical process. Ethan safe, abort mission. All of the women leaned over his shoulder, peering at the green code before rushing to the black suburban and revving out of the warehouse. Each of them sat, silent, their thoughts running wild and hope beating in their chests. Antione met them at the door, his finger to his lips.

  “Keep quiet, my cheri.” His hand was laid on Amber’s shoulder, then her arms wrapped around his neck, the tears flowing free. “He needs to rest.” The rest of them took seats in the kitchen, keeping their voices down. She slipped into the living room, kneeling down beside him. Tears slid down her beautifully carved cheekbones, her eyes running over his wounds and assessing the damage. Blood still covered parts of his body, the terrible damage concealed with cotton cloths that bound them to prevent further blood loss. His face was drenched in sweat, the lips moving and an inaudible sound escaping them. She leaned over to hear, her hair held back with a delicate hand.

  “Amber. Amber.” A crimson blush covered the cheeks, a painful thrust stabbed at her heart and the tears fell on his face. His eyes fluttered open, focusing on her face before a slow smile spread. Again, leaning close, she pressed her own lips to his in a slow kiss that conveyed the emotions surging in her chest – relief, love, and tenderness. Ethan’s hand cupped the side of her face, marveling at her beauty and love.

  “I was so scared, darling.” She whispered, saw the dark cloud pass over his face and the clinching of his fist.

  “I’m sorry.” His eyes reflected the guilt and pain that were struggling for dominance in his mind. “The girl? Did she make it?”

  “Yes. She’s here, in the kitchen.” Amber dipped a rag in the water, bathing the sweat away with a gentle touch. “Just rest. We’re all safe.” After a moment, his eyes shut and the ragged breathing became steady. When she returned to the kitchen, everyone could see the distress on her face. Morgen impulsively pulled the distraught woman into a hug, suddenly releasing the envy that had been harbored in her heart against her. Ethan Ryde deserved to live a civilian life, keeping his family safe. If he went back to the military or to Carlson’s agency, that would be impossible. Over Amber’s shoulder, she gasped as the agency director stepped into the kitchen and spoke with the older French man. They were engrossed in examining a sheet of paper, excitedly gesturing at a line.

  “Carlson.” He turned, straightening at the sight of her, a wrinkle appearing on the forehead.

  “Colonel Morgen, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” His tone was polite, reserved, and it didn’t reveal the curiosity that was burning in his mind. “Mrs. Waters, we’ll need to speak with your husband once he’s rested. This is information that could put Mr. Patricks away for good in a federal prison.” Amber turned, examining the older man. Average with a pleasant face and greying hair.

  “Of course, he wouldn’t have it any other way.” She smiled, thanking Morgen with a look. “Please, stay for supper.”

  “I’d be honored.” He flashed a genuine smile at her, bowing and pressing his lips to her hand. It made her smile, allowing the group of people to relax and begin to behave naturally. Antione began to prepare the supper, enlisting the help of the women.

  As Amber began to prepare a white sauce, her thoughts ran to the cruelty that her ex-husband had inflicted on Ethan. Her imagination couldn’t begin to compete with the reality of the suffering that he had gone through for a complete stranger. It made the love swell in her heart, a warm comfortable feeling washing over her mind. This man who had begun as a problem, had turned into a blessing in her life.

  Morgen stood chopping some chives, staring at the green and white pieces. Her heart ached for the love that had been taken away again. Yet a sense of relief crept in, whispering into her ear that it was better for her to remain single. Perhaps someday there would be another man to gain her heart, but for now the work that she was involved in prevented domestic life. Ethan needed a woman who would remain a civilian, who required his strength to feel secure. It had been the same situation with A’isha, even the reasons were matched in this woman standing to her left.

  She sent the chopped chives tumbling into Amber’s sauce, laughing as one went flying into the cup of coffee sitting by the stove. “I’m glad Ethan found you.” The words surprised Amber who asked the question with her look. “He needs someone to bring him back from the war, not toss him back in.”

  “What do mean? Bring him back?” Amber dumped the cup in the sink, turning around to assess Morgen’s facial expression.

  “He lost himself in the chaos, the destruction, and the…loss of his wife…and daughter. But you’re good for him. I can see the new officer getting off the plane again.” They both turned quickly as Ethan limped into view, trying to smile through the pain.

  “Are you both alright?” The question took Amber by surprise, her eyes running up and down the bandages with concern.

  “Speak for yourself, soldier.” Morgen pulled over a chair and pointed to it, the look in her eye indicating that he should sit down. “He really worked you over, didn’t he?”

  “He had some talent.” There was a dangerous glint in the blue eyes, warning them of the thoughts passing in his mind. Amber’s heart ached, almost seeing his pain and despair during the war. She slipped over, laying her arm on his shoulder. “Promise me…where’s Zara?”

  “She’s outside with the kids.” Morgen replied, gesturing toward the window and handing him a cup of coffee. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, the fear disappearing in an instant. Amber could feel the relaxation of the muscles through her hand.

  “We need to stay away from Patricks.” Both women stood in shocked silence. “He owns the city. I won’t risk my family’s lives to bring down a man with those kinds of resources.”

  “All we need, Mr. Ryde, is information.” Carlson entered the room, adjusting his tie and handing the injured man a file. “We’ll take care of Patricks.”

  “It won’t be detailed.” Ethan looked at the floor, biting his lip in his discomfort and embarrassment. “There wasn’t a lot that I was able to retain or…even see, sir.”

  “That’s understandable, considering the circumstances.” Carlson replied, searching the younger man’s face for any signs of anger and finding none. It surprised the seasoned profession, after years of service in the homicide department, most men would have a desire for revenge or a way to pay back their tormentor. The man in front of him was content to remain, living with his family and protecting them by refraining from the violence that would come from an attack on his enemy.

  “We should talk outside.” Ethan struggled onto his feet, limping towards the doorway with Carlson following. The sun was warm on the wall of the porch, a soft breeze playing with the fruit trees in the yard. He leaned on the railing, his breath become shallow and raspy from the exertion.

  “You shouldn’t be moving about.” Carlson spoke, not willing to offend the man by offering his assistance.

  “I’m fine.” Ethan protested, but nodding in agreement while sinking onto the bench by the wall. A pained look passed acros
s his face, sweat began to form on his hairline. The older man didn’t dare make another comment, seeing the embarrassment on the young man’s face. He understood the feeling of helplessness and the hatred of that emotion for a soldier.

  “Mr. Patricks met you, didn’t he?” Carlson turned to look out on the city, allowing the injured man to recover without being observed.

  “When we were brought to the office building, there was a man who fits his description sitting behind a desk. He tried to get information about Amber and Zara. But…he also made a confession to owning half the city and the police department.” Ethan’s voice was slowly returning to its normal cool, terse, military bark.

  “Mr. Ryde, we’ll need you to testify in court.” Carlson turned and met the blue eyes with his own.

  “Get the man in custody and I’ll testify.” They understood each other, an unspoken promise happening in the silence. The door opened, Tessa stepped out and taking a seat by the wounded man.