Mismatched

by Chautona Havig

  The temptation for Allison to pray that all of the Kasimirs died niggled at her, growing stronger with each passing moment. How much easier it would be for all of them. Then again, the chance to repent—gone forever. She wanted to desire their repentance. Her heart ached at the realization that she didn’t. Still, she begged the Lord to change her heart, to change the hearts of the men who sought to kill Leo.

  The thought of Leo nearly choked her. Tears splashed on her cheeks as she imagined him dead in his apartment. She couldn’t let her mind stay there. With more willpower than she knew she possessed, Allison dragged her thoughts to her parents, to Mark, and to gratitude for the provision of their protection. “I don’t know why we were blessed by this when so many others aren’t, but I thank You.”

  “What?”

  Allison’s head snapped up and then relaxed at the sight of her father. “Did you need something?”

  “I heard you say thank you, but—”

  “I was praying.”

  “Oh.” Rod started to back out of the room and hesitated. His hand rested on the doorknob. “Why were you thanking God when Leo is…” He seemed unable to continue.

  Never had her father asked anything about her faith. She hesitated and then scooted over, making room for him beside her on the bed. “I thank God because I know that none of this surprises Him. He’s got it covered—even if we don’t understand the outcome.”

  “You really believe that.”

  Allison rested her head on her father’s shoulder and sighed. “I do. The Bible says, ‘Hate evil, you who love the LORD, Who preserves the souls of His godly ones; He delivers them from the hand of the wicked.’”

  “But evil happens all the time to good—” Allison’s attempted protest made Rod change his words. “Okay, to religious people.”

  “But not ultimately.” She curled up against him, her arm wrapped around his chest. “Dad, we believe in the end, all will be right. Satan cannot ‘snatch us out of His hand.’ We’re protected.”

  “I wish I had that faith.”

  She started to answer, but hesitated. “I want to say so many things…”

  “How about just one this time?”

  That he didn’t shut her down already told her that her father truly wanted to know more. She prayed for wisdom in what to share. A smile filled her heart. “Okay. One thing—Scripture again.”

  “Okay.” Rod spoke again quickly. “Can I just say I want to thank you for never pushing your beliefs on us? I’d never listen now if you had.”

  “I know.” So many things she wanted to say filled her heart but Allison forced herself to stick to the one thing that might open her father’s eyes to Jesus. “Okay, the Bible says that the Bible is where we gain faith. It says, ‘So faith comes from hearing, and hearing by the word of Christ.’”

  “What’s the ‘word of Christ?’”

  “The Bible.”

  They sat there, father and daughter, arms wrapped around one another, each clinging to something—someone—different. Rod held his daughter while she clung to Jesus, begging the Lord to draw her father’s heart to Him. Several minutes passed before Rod spoke.

  “My birthday is next week.”

  “Turning forty-nine again, or are you going to slip into the fifties this year?”

  Rod chuckled—that deep throaty sound that meant security and love to her. “It’s been such a good year—for five years now. Why change it up?”

  “Makes sense to me. I had thought about staying at thirty this year, but it might turn out to be a year to forget. Maybe thirty-one.”

  “Why not twenty-nine?”

  Her throat constricted as she said, “I didn’t know Leo at twenty-nine.”

  “I’ve always loved who you are,” Rod began cautiously, “but he brings out something in you—even Adric said something when he called once. I agree with him. You come alive, for lack of better way of phrasing it, when he’s around.”

  “And even after the way I’ve pretty much thrown myself at him, he’s still interested.”

  “He recognizes your excellent taste, perhaps.”

  Talking about Leo when he could be in the middle of danger choked her. “So how do we try to celebrate this birthday?”

  “I want two gifts.”

  “Two. Nice. One from me and one from Mom perhaps?”

  She felt him shrug as he considered the proposition. “Okay, I want three.”

  “Greedy,” Allison accused, laughing.

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What gifts do you want and from whom?”

  “I want a new family portrait.” Rod’s voice deepened with emotion and he choked as he whispered, “We don’t have any left.”

  “Except in your wallet. I’ll never mock you for carrying so many pictures again.”

  “It wasn’t by design,” Rod admitted. “It was just easier to shove the newest one in front of the older ones.”

  “Thanks to you, we have some of them.” Tears filled Allison’s eyes. “I just wish we could ask the family for copies before we went.”

  “We can’t.”

  Brushing aside her tears, Allison asked about his other gifts. “Okay so portrait. We can do that—even if we have to buy a camera with a timer and do it ourselves. What else?”

  “That’ll be from Eva. From Leo, I want an endorsement on a check for his tattoos.”

  Just the idea that it might happen raised her hopes a bit. “I think he will do it. He said if the doctor agreed…” Allison lifted her head and gazed into her father’s eyes. “And from me?”

  “A Bible—with wherever you want me to read first marked. If the faith you have starts there, I’ll see what it’s about.”

  Her head dropped back to his shoulder. “I’m not going to push. You’ll have to ask if you have questions. I just won’t—”

  “I know.” Rod’s Adam’s apple bobbed against her hair, making her feel like a little girl again. “Allison, I might ask Leo about things—just so I don’t hurt you if I argue or can’t believe.”

  “He’ll like that. It’ll be good for him. I don’t think he’s ever had to try to explain his faith.” Allison held her father tighter. “Thank you.”

  “What for? You’re giving me the gift, remember?”

  “So many things. A beautiful childhood, understanding when I chose to give myself to Jesus, support when the family didn’t…” A memory stirred something in her heart. “When I was eight—maybe nine. Mikey got mad at me and said that I was a disappointment to you. Do you remember?”

  “I think so. I think I scared him. I was furious.”

  “Yep. That’s the time.” Her giggle felt strange at such a solemn time, but Allison continued. “You said something to me that day that has always been very special to me.”

  “What was that?”

  “You said, ‘Alli, my dear, the only son I want is the other half of your name.’” Again she looked up at her father. “I knew, without any doubt at all, that you meant that.”

  “I did. I’d forgotten.”

  “I can’t. That one moment of reassurance defines my life. You’ve given me so much.” Allison couldn’t hide a sniffle before she added, “But being willing to read any of the Bible—any of it—means more to me than I can tell you.”

  “Then you should have asked me to. I would have done it for you.”

  She shook her head. “No, Dad. It wouldn’t mean anything to me that way. I know that sounds terrible, but it’s true.” Allison begged the Lord to help her father understand and not be hurt. “To mean something to me, you had to want it for yourself. Can you understand that?”

  Eva knocked and poked her head around the door. “Rod, Keith wants to talk to us about what to expect after this is all over.”

  Allison waved them on, assuring them that she’d be fine alone. “I just really want to pray a bit longer.”

  “Pray for Leo,” Eva urged her. “I think he’s going to need it.”

  As the door closed
behind her parents, her mother’s words reverberated in her mind. Each wave grew louder and more insistent until she felt pummeled by them. Oppressed by the ominous feeling she had each time she thought of him, Allison’s prayers turned to Leo—never left him—until hours later, she finally succumbed to the blessing of sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sounds outside sent Leo’s blood racing. All thoughts of prayer and concern for anything other than his life evaporated in an instant. Dread crept over him, but he waited, second by second, without any sign of anyone coming. It made no sense.

  The phone buzzed in his pocket just a minute later. GOT DEL.

  What should have been a terrifying situation had been disarmed before it had a chance to explode. If only the rest would go so easily. A shuffle from the bedroom made him wonder if the men there had gotten the same message.

  Curious, he stood at the window and stared down into the street. Several minutes passed before he saw Brian get into a car and drive away. A woman sashayed up to Joe and talked for a moment. Her head turned in his direction just long enough to give him a good look at her. Trina. They wouldn’t send in Trina! I could take her down, and they know it.

  Dread filled him again. If they sent in Trina, he’d be dead before the agents could help him. Frustrated, Leo turned to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed. At least the distance gave him a chance.

  The long wait began anew.

  Ernie glanced at his phone. The text sent his pulse racing. His fingers flew over the keys. The message simple: Cops hauled off Del.

  Now to wait and see if Jenk ran or took the arrest as the perfect chance to nab Leo while the cops were busy. The reply came within the minute. Advise?

  His pulse kicked up the pace another notch, making him feel slightly dizzy. Still, Ernie had to try to get Jenk there. He thought for a moment before replying: Wentz?

  It had to work. Only with Wentz going in would Jenk come—only Jenk could control the idiot.

  When two minutes passed without response, Ernie grew more nervous than he’d been in months. If they suspected anything but one hundred percent loyalty, he was a dead man.

  His phone buzzed. One text sent to the remainder of the group. I’M IN.

  The email came a second later. The command simple: Text when the coast is clear.

  Time for another stroll outside, pleading with the girlfriend to leave work early. “Hey, Sara…”

  Karen stared at the text before her, both nervous and excited. One down, several more to go. Getting Del was big—huge. Getting Jenk, on the other hand, would severely injure the organization. They’d already gone through one restructure in the past three years. Another meant power shifts—ones that meant vulnerability.

  Her nerves won. She knocked on the opposing doors at the end of the short hall and waited. “Grab your bags. We’re out of here.”

  Allison’s door flung open first. “What went wrong?”

  “Nothing. So far, it’s perfect.”

  The Wahls opened their door, standing together and looking like frightened prisoners on their way to execution. Allison stepped over to hug them as she whispered, “Too perfect?”

  “For my comfort, yes. I don’t have orders to go. I just want to.” Karen turned. “We go in five minutes.”

  Allison dashed into her room, threw a few loose items in her bag, and grabbed the pillow. The last trip had been murder. In the kitchen, she shoved bottled water in canvas bags and slapped sandwiches together.

  Her parents arrived, suitcases in each hand, and waited for orders to load the car. Karen burst through the door and pointed. “Okay, let’s go.”

  They bounced over the road to the highway. Allison’s eyes met her father’s in the visor mirror and she smiled. She could hear his thoughts. Treat your car gently and it will last forever. If you can feel jolts, you’re going too fast. Slow down and treat it like a toddler learning to walk. You don’t drag them across the ruts and roots.

  “Where to?”

  Karen shook her head. “Can’t say.” She flipped her blinker and turned left onto the highway. “First because I’m not sure. Second, because even if I was, I couldn’t tell you.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and fumbled to find a number. Passing it to Allison, she said. “Send a text.”

  “Okay, what do you want to say?”

  “The number four and a question mark.”

  The answer came almost immediately. Allison shook her head. “It says no.”

  “Try twenty-seven.”

  Again, Allison shook her head no. At a road crossing, Karen turned east and said, “Okay, sixteen.”

  The answer came. Yes. To Allison’s surprise, Karen asked for another one. “What about nine?”

  Yes again.

  “Okay then,” Karen said as she settled into her seat. “Let’s drive.”

  A text came in from Sam. ALLEY CLEAR.

  Ernie stared at it. He sent a new one to Trina. CHECK FLOWERS.

  The reply came five minutes later. ALL OUT OF PANSIES.

  He stifled a snicker. She had a sense of humor. He had to give her that. Leaving his laptop on the couch, he strolled out to his car and retrieved a book. No one could guess the place crawled with FBI agents and Agency personnel. Once seated, he emailed Jenk.

  Talked to friends who say the streets are quiet. Looks boring to me, but whatever.

  The text from Jenk came moments later.

  PARTY.

  The rumble of a motorcycle sent Leo’s heart racing. He jumped up and crept to the window, glancing down at the street below. Jenk. He pulled out his phone and sent a single word message. JENK. His eyes caught sight of Trina and he sent another. TRINA. She strolled across the street, obviously complimenting Jenk on his bike. Wentz pulled up in a truck and strode between the buildings, ignoring the others.

  Leo’s throat went dry as he sent one last message on his way to his room. WENTZ. NOW.

  As he stepped behind the door, Leo murmured, “Riffraff in this town is out of control.”

  A single quiet knock to the wall from the inside was the only response. Good. They’re still there. If they weren’t, I’d be a dead man.

  Wentz didn’t try to be quiet. Leo heard the man before he reached the top step. This time, the FBI planned to let one of the Kasimirs inside. Lord, if I hide in here, even Wentz might get suspicious. When that door opens, give me the strength to go out there.

  The door opened. A second or two more would have been nice. Just sayin’. Leo strode out of his room as if to investigate. He took one look at Wentz and allowed himself to freeze for half a second before jumping back and trying to slam the door shut. The man had never been swift, but size gave him a stride that allowed him to cross the room in seconds.

  The lock snapped into place just as Wentz threw himself against the door. It shuddered. Leo peeked out his window, trying to decide if it was worth hiding on the ledge. He’d push me off just trying to get to me.

  Another ram splintered the doorway a little. Seconds—all he had were seconds. Thank you, Lord that he doesn’t know enough to use his feet rather than his shoulder.

  The men needed to know who—what. They needed time. He flattened himself against the wall next to the door and prayed the Wentz would stumble into the room when the door gave way.

  It worked. Leo slipped through the door and raced for the front door, allowing himself to trip over the corner of the couch. As he scrambled to his feet, his eyes met the leather-chapped legs of Jenk.

  “I should have known he’d have to have you here to tell him when to throw a punch or to remove a spleen. Oh wait,” Leo mocked, slightly louder than necessary, “you guys already did that.”

  Jenk looked over Leo’s shoulder and said, “Wentz. Take him.”

  A blow to the head nearly knocked him out. Leo fought to keep conscious—hoping to dodge a knife or gunshot. Fire ripped through his stomach as a knife hit him faster than he’d expected.

  Leo screamed—blackness.

  Texts
flew. Keith raced out of the building and down to the coffee shop as the words, LEO’S DOWN, hit his screen. Ernie crawled into his car just as Keith arrived. Keith kept running, dashing around the buildings and into the alley. One safe. Where’s the rest?

  Trina stepped between two buildings just as Keith drew near. Her eyes widened with recognition. “You—”

  It took exactly three steps to catch her. Keith jerked her arms behind her back and shoved her ahead of him as he hurried to where a delivery truck waited. “Um, sir?”

  “Let go of me!”

  “This gal was running away, and I thought—”

  “I didn’t do—”

  Keith stepped back, hands in the air. An agent handcuffed her. As they led Trina past him, Keith murmured, “You know enough Bible to know better. Read it again. Warren Whitfield might just write his next book about you.”

  “Can’t believe you’re a cop.”

  Keith turned to leave but not before he said, “But I’m not.”

  “You’re not a writer.”

  “No,” he agreed. “No, I’m not.

  The wails of a siren pierced the afternoon air. Keith’s eyes sought those of the man who appeared to be in charge. A single nod answered his questioning glance before orders for him to leave. “Ted will escort you to one of the local cops and they’ll take you to the station. We’ll have questions for you.”

  Joe stood beside his parked cruiser, tense. Ted led Keith to the vehicle and said, “Mark wants you to keep him for questioning. He’s not a suspect. We just want him protected.”

  Keith forced himself to remain expressionless. Protected. That was a good one. The moment Ted was out of earshot, Keith murmured, “Mark says they got Leo but he’s fine.”

  “He told you that?” Joe’s forehead furrowed. “Those exact words?”

  He shook his head. “No. He nodded.”

  “And from a nod—oh. You should talk to Varney.”

  Keith turned and opened the rear passenger door. “Yes, I probably should.”

  As Joe turned the car around, Keith saw the ambulance pass. Brunswick Memorial Hospital. If only such a place existed.