by Holt, Leah
As I held her in my arms, the realization set in that I had given her more than she had ever had. She was heard. And I knew. . .
I knew I couldn't let her continue to live the way she had been.
I knew that she deserved better than the life she was given.
I knew that her life depended on me.
Chapter Seventeen
Berlin
I didn't sleep alone. For the first time in my life, I had someone else beside me.
The heat off his body was warm as he curled himself around me unknowingly while he slept. His arm draped over my shoulder, face snuggled up into my hair, leg thrown over my calf.
A small smile sat on my lips as I watched bright streams of light stretch between the cracks in the blinds. I was afraid to move, afraid to wake him up and have all of this end.
The night before I was angry, too caught up in how I ended up in his hands, unable to see the genuine gift he had given me.
I was out of the Canary. Not forever, but long enough to enjoy the pleasures of this strange world.
Taking in a deep breath, even the air smelled different. It was fresh and light, filled with subtle notes of perfume and laundry detergent. The bedding was clean and soft, the walls were crisp and clean, decorated with ocean scenery.
Memories of going to the beach with my family when I was a little girl rushed into my head. I could remember the salty air and the way the sand stuck to your skin, making it feel rough.
A single tear trickled down my cheek as my father's face sat in my mind, his smile bold and gleaming as we built sand castles and splashed in the cold water.
Moving my eyes to the table beside the bed, the thick glossy lacquer was like a mirror. Running my fingers across the surface, I gently touched the thin edge of the lamp, feeling the coarse material.
The need to explore and touch and smell everything in the room had started to come over me. This was the only chance I had to regenerate memories of normalcy. Things that most took for granted.
A soft bed, a fluffy pillow, the way the fabric felt against my skin. I was trying to make mental notes so I'd be able to revisit this memory in the future.
Salt stirred, rolling onto his back,. Glancing over my shoulder, his eyes were still closed, and his breathing was heavy as he snored lightly.
Giggling, I laid my head back down, allowing myself to have that moment. One where there was no pressure on me to perform, or feet stalking by my door like I was a dangerous criminal who might escape.
Pulling the blanket up higher, the feather filled pillow cradled my skull like a delicate egg. I wanted this to last forever. I wanted to live this life. I wanted nothing more than to wake up every day to the sun as my alarm clock.
Salt grunted, mumbling something to himself as he rolled further to the other side of the king sized bed. Twisting my body, I turned so I was facing him, and watched him while his dreams seemed to take him places.
Every few seconds his face would contort and his lips would move as he spoke unrecognizable sentences to an unseen person. Lifting his arm up over his head, his muscles rippled, drawing my eyes to his bare chest.
Thick black lines decorated his ribs, swirling and looping as they followed the defined muscles down his side, disappearing into the seam of his boxers. Reaching out, I let the tips of my fingers hover over the tattoo.
I wanted to trace it, follow the lines and see exactly where they went. The pads of my fingers inched closer, my hand shaking slightly as I tried to be as gentle as possible so I didn't wake him up.
He looked like a sleeping God, one that was dropped from above by mistake. Salt didn't belong mixed up in this shit. For all the bad things he'd probably done in his life, there was something about him that screamed savior.
From the corner of my eye a red flash blinked, catching my attention. Lifting up on my arm, I spotted a phone on the table on Salt's side. The small light kept bursting like a tiny firework, but the phone wasn't making a sound.
A phone. I could call for help. . .
For the first time ever, I had a way out. I could save the girls at the Canary, I could save myself, I could put Virgo behind bars.
Checking to make sure he was still fast asleep, I slowly and delicately slipped out of the bed. With tender feet, I walked on the tips of my toes around the giant bed. I was stunned as I kept the phone in my sight, unsure if it was really true.
I hadn't been that close to a phone in years, at least not one that I could possibly use. Virgo and Vin had their cell phones, but that was it. And there wasn't a chance in hell I'd ever be able to get my hands on either of those.
Stopping a few feet away from the end table, my hands tingled at my sides, eager to snatch it up and make a call.
Who will I call?
The police?
The operator?
The lobby downstairs?
It wasn't like I had family to call. . .
My eyes fluttered to Salt as my thighs hit the edge of the table. He was still snoring, his mouth partially open. With shaky fingers I reached for the phone, pulling the receiver off. Lifting it to my ear, the sound of the dial tone was like a symphony in my head.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I let my brain remember the noise, allowing it to open old memories from my childhood. Calling my grandparents to wish them happy holidays, calling my friends from school to make plans.
My mind flooded with snapshots of my mother laughing as she talked to my grandmother and cooked dinner, the phone pinned between her shoulder and ear. Her smile as she danced around the kitchen, pulling food from the fridge and pans from the cupboard as she chatted away without a care in the world.
Tears filled my eyes as I opened them back up and muscle memory worked the keys as I made my call.
Each button made its signature beep as I pressed them down with a trembling finger. Holding my breath, I pushed the phone firmly against my ear, praying that my memory was right and the number would work.
'Mi dispiace, il numero che stai cercando di raggiungere. . .' An Italian automatic message came through, telling me that number was out of service.
Fumbling with my lip, I listened to the operator repeat the phrase, not wanting it to be true. Pushing the phone harder against my ear, I felt like if I just waited it out, if I didn't give up, that if I listened a little bit longer, maybe it would miraculously connect.
Without warning, the phone was yanked from my hand. Salt growled, tearing the phone from the wall and throwing it across the room. Crashing against the wall, it shattered into pieces.
My heart sank in my chest as I looked up at Salt, his eyes cold and angry. Stalking forward, he grabbed me by the arms and shoved me against the wall.
The edges of his fingers dug into my arms, his hands firmly holding me in place. Glaring at me, his nostrils flared wide as his jaw clenched.
“What the fuck did you just do? Who the hell did you just call?” His eyes darted between mine, furious and irate.
“No one,” I said, my voice stern and full of truth.
“Bullshit.” Taking in deep breaths of air, he spoke through gritted teeth. “Who the fuck did you call? Was it the cops?”
Shaking my head, I thinned my lips. “No, I. . .” Pausing, I closed my eyes slightly, feeling stupid for having even tried the number to begin with. “I called home.”
His hands tightened, jaw crooking. “Home? You expect me to believe that?”
Forcing my voice to steady, I could feel the tears sitting right there, ready to spill. But I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to allow those tears to consume me. “You can believe whatever the hell you want to.” Yanking my arms hard, I was able to pull them free. Standing taller, I stepped into his chest. “But don't worry, the number doesn't work anymore anyway, because she's dead.”
Salt's face went slack as his eyes softened. “What?”
“My mother, my father, my family, they're all gone.” Leaning back, I let my body rest against the wall. “They're gone. I just—”
Stopping myself from saying what I was about to, I waved my hand dismissively. “It doesn't matter, forget it.”
“Finish what you were going to say. You just what?”
Looking up at him under hooded lids, I shrugged my shoulder. “I just wanted to hear her voice.” Dropping my eyes to the floor, I twisted my toe into the carpet. “It was stupid, I know, but I just wanted to hear her.”
Running his hand through his hair, he took a step back, putting some space between us. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have reacted like that, I didn't know.” Sitting on the bed, he kept his head down. “How—”
Cutting him off, I snapped, “I don't want to talk about it.”
Bobbing his head up and down, he sucked in a gulp of air. “Alright, I get it.” Lifting his head, his eyes showed understanding. Even if he wanted to ask more, he wasn't going to.
We both sat in a long silence. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell him about my past, about how Virgo had taken my family from me, but it was just too hard to talk about.
“You want some breakfast?” he asked, breaking the numbing quiet between us.
Nodding, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. “Yeah, that sounds good actually. I'm a little hungry.”
Salt got up and went to the fridge, pulling out a small white bag. “I got these from a little bakery in town, they're the best I've ever had.” Handing me a muffin, he took one for himself.
Real food. Real delicious food.
I wanted to savor every last crumb of that muffin. Bringing it to my nose, I smelled the blueberries, tasting them as the aroma entered my lungs. My mouth was watering as I brought it to my lips, and I had to hold myself back from just stuffing it all in at once.
Peeling a strip off the top, I popped it into my mouth. “Mm,” I moaned, unable to contain myself. “This is amazing.”
“Told you it was good,” he said with his mouth full.
“I don't think you understand, I don't get stuff like this usually. This is so good, it's almost as good as an orgasm.”
“Almost.” Winking, he took another bite of his breakfast and smirked. “But not really.”
Laughing, I swallowed my food, choking it down. “Yeah, you're right, not really.” Watching him eat, I asked,” Can I ask you something?”
Shrugging his shoulder, he took another bite. “Sure.”
“Why do people call you Salt?”
“It's nothing special really, just a nickname. My last name is Saltiana. But my father used to say that when I was little, I was really good at making my mother feel bad when she tried to punish me. He would say I poured salt on her wound and made her give in.”
“Makes sense.” Sitting at the small table, I picked at my muffin. “You look too young to be this bad-ass assassin. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.”
“I was raised to be this. It's a family business, it runs in my veins.” Taking a sip of water, he swallowed hard. “Sometimes, we don't get to decide who we become.”
“So we're not that different.”
“I guess not.” Giving me a sad smile, he looked down at the floor. “Can I ask you something?” Nodding at him, I ate some more of my breakfast. “What's your last name?”
“Parson, Berlin Parson.” Salt stopped, his eyes growing wide. “What? What is it?” I asked, crinkling my brows.
The look I had seen vanished as he shook his head and glanced down at his food. “Nothing, it's nothing. I thought the name sounded familiar for a second, but I was wrong.” Giving me an uneasy smirk, he checked the clock. Salt's smile slowly faded into a frown. “It's almost time for me to bring you back.”
“I know,” I said, finishing my breakfast and throwing the small paper wrapper into the trash. “I'm trying not to think about it.”
Stepping to my side, he curled a finger under my chin and tipped my head up. “I'm sorry I can't do more.”
“Why can't you? You could buy me from him. I'll pay off whatever the debt is for me, I'll do anything you want, just don't take me back there.”
“Berlin, it's not that simple.”
“Why not? It could work, we could make it work. I'm a quick learner, I can help you somehow—” Shaking my head, I pursed my lips. “I don't know how, but I can. We could leave all this behind.”
“No, we can't. We'd never be able to fully leave this. You and I both know that.”
He's right. You know he is.
I didn't want to admit it, but Salt wasn't wrong. If we ran, we'd never stop running. I'd be living in the same prison, only it would be built off fear of being found. We'd have to hide, we'd never be able to stay in the same place long.
That wasn't how I wanted to live, I didn't want to spend my freedom constantly afraid that someone was waiting to get me, ready to kill him and drag me back.
Virgo would never stop searching for me.
My eyes met his as his thumb stroked my bottom lip. “I wish we met in another life, not this one.”
Lowering his face to mine, he kissed me softly. “Me too.”
Chapter Eighteen
Salt
Walking to the car, Berlin was a few steps in front of me. She looked so sad when I closed the door to the hotel room. But there was nothing more I could for her.
At least I gave her one night, one night that was just for her and no one else.
Stopping, I plucked a white lily from the garden walkway. Spinning the stem between my fingertips, I watched the petals spiral. It was such a simple thing, but beautiful, just like her; soft, delicate, but so easily damaged.
Looking up, Berlin was still walking towards the car, so I jogged to her side. “Here,” I said, holding out the flower.
“What's this?” she asked, taking it warily as if it was poison.
“It's a flower.” My voice drew out long and playful, trying to make her smile. But there was nothing for her to smile about. A flower to most woman would give them butterflies and make them blush. For her it signified an ending.
“I can see that, but why are you giving it to me?”
“Because it's beautiful, just like you. I want you to keep it, so you can have something to remind you of me.”
Lifting the flower to her nose, she smelled it. “Thank you,” she said as a light smile teased her lips. It wasn't the same smile I had seen the night before and that cut me deep.
Berlin looked up at me, her eyes glazing over as if she was going to cry. I hated that she was about to cry because of me. The tears she was holding, the ones she was trying to keep in, they weren't from the pain of going back.
They were because of me. They were because I wasn't the person she wanted me to be.
Pulling her in, I hugged her tight, pressing her face into my chest. I felt her lungs as they started to inhale heavy breaths and her muscles as they shook.
All the pent up frustration and sadness came out as she sobbed in my arms. I wasn't going to let her go, not yet. She needed this.
“Don't cry, my flower. Life isn't always kind, sometimes you only have a handful of memories you can look back on that make you happy. This is one of them.”
Her body melted into mine, and she felt perfect there, like she was made to fit in my arms. Clearing my throat, I pushed her away, not allowing her to see the pain I felt about having to bring her back.
“Come on, it's time to go.”
The drive back was long and silent. There was nothing for either of us to say. She wanted something I couldn't give her, and I wanted something I could never have.
What was there for us to talk about?
Sitting in the car outside the Canary, I could see the tension in Berlin as her eyes fell on the building. Her hands were clasped around the flower, her back was stiff, and her face was slack, full of torment.
“You don't have to do this,” she said as water bubbled over the surface of her eyes. “We can just leave, we can go somewhere else. We can become different people, no one would find us.” She tried so hard to sound confident, but I could tell she
knew it wouldn't be that easy.
Reaching over, I took her hand, braiding our fingers together. “Berlin, you know I can't do that. It won't work, there's no place for this in my life.”
“For what?” she asked, letting her eyes fall over my face. “For me? You can't find room in your world to help? You only have room to hurt?”
“No, that's not what I mean.”
“Then what? What the hell do you mean? Why can't you just help someone for once in your life?” Her voice pleaded with me to save her, to steal her away and not look back.
But I couldn't.
“There's no place for all the other shit that comes with helping; for the feelings, for the emotions, for. . .” Pausing, even the thought of using the word made my throat close up.
She didn't want to go back, no more than I wanted to bring her back. But I was right when I said the world I lived in wouldn't allow me to have her.
It went far beyond just the danger she would be in on a daily basis. The life I lived made it almost impossible to get to close to anyone. There was always this underlying fear that it would create a rift.
I watched what it did to my parents, the way it changed how my mother looked at my father. The deeper in he got, the further she pulled away. Until it got to the point she hated everything about him. I watched him try over and over again to please her, to try and make her see him as the man she had fallen in love with.
But this job changes you, no matter how strong you are.
My father was a family man, he loved my mother, he loved me. . . But he also loved the power that came with his line of work. Men would cower in your presence, they would go out of their way to kiss your ass. And the men we killed, well, if you were good, they never saw you coming. But for the ones we were given instructions to make suffer, the look in their eyes was satisfying.
I'd be a lying piece of shit if I said I didn't get high off that power too.
I am a fucking monster.
My mother stopped looking at father with love in her eyes. I couldn't bare the thought of Berlin ever looking at me the way she looked at him. There was this empty glare my mother had, one that made falling in love unbearable.
