by Anna Lewis
“That nearly cost you your life,” he said softly. “We put out a PSA to everyone associated with the case to call a number for assistance. It took a little doing, but we eventually found your address.”
“I don’t know why it was so hard,” she said.
“Your name was misspelled and the computer didn’t make the leap.”
She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. She should have known.
“So, the person who signed me in as a juror typed in ‘Laura’?”
“Laura Fax, to be exact.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I usually am kidding, but not this time. She completely butchered your name and you also have your registration under a PO box. It made it harder than we would have liked it, but I love a challenge, personally.”
“What about Spencer?”
“Spencer likes things to go right the first time. He’s a bit serious.”
She laughed.
“I did notice that. Are you guys really twins, or do you just look alike?”
“Twins. Identical.”
“I figured as much. I thought Spencer had run around the house, from the front porch to the back door and beat me there.”
“I kicked down the door,” Trevor corrected.
“Did you?”
“I guess you’ll never know,” he teased.
“I think I like the serious twin better.”
This time, Trevor laughed, throwing his head back and letting loose as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “We’re too high. I can’t tell where we are.”
“We’re going to Dallas. Specifically Ferris, south of Dallas.”
“What’s there?”
“Our house and not much else. Our place is over fifteen hundred acres.”
“That’s a lot of land.”
“We like our space. It’s easier to get away with flying when your neighbors are over a mile away.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said, feeling uneasy. “Wouldn’t that also make it hard to get help if we needed it.”
“You won’t need help; Spencer and I will be there.”
“What if something happens to you?”
“If something happens to us, then you’re probably already a goner. Spencer and I don’t lose people under our watch. We would die first, and if that happened, you'd be on your own.”
“That’s comforting,” she said sarcastically.
“You have nothing to worry about. There are two of us and we’re dragon shifters. You’re getting the best of the best, of the best. If we can’t keep you alive, no one can.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It should.”
“I don’t know you two. Staying on fifteen hundred acres alone with you doesn’t sound like a good idea. What if you’re with the mob?”
“Why would we save you if we were with the mob?”
“Maybe, if you thought I might hurt you if you tried to kill me, making it easier to take me in and pretend to be saving me.”
“Are you joking? You’re like a puppy.”
“A rabid puppy.”
Trevor laughed and pulled her closer. His scent enveloped her and her body responded. Somehow, despite her fear, her traitorous body wasn’t above noticing how good he smelled, or how strong his arms felt around her.
“You’re hardly a rabid mouse. We were easy on you. Trust me, you were not going to get away from us.” He paused for a moment. “I was really amused that you managed to scratch Spencer like that, though. I think you’re the first witness to injure him in, well, ever.”
“That makes me feel better.”
The dragon tensed beneath them, and Spencer turned his green head, green eyes looking at her disapprovingly for a moment before his attention returned to the sky in front of them.
“I guess he can hear us,” she said.
“He can.”
Lara shifted in Trevor’s arms, trying to get comfortable. Her stomach was clenched and every time he laughed, her body sent shudders through her, her reaction to his closeness strong.
It’s his touch, she tried to convince herself. Who wouldn’t want someone so gorgeous holding her like he is?
“How long until we’re there?” she wondered.
“About an hour. We’re at extreme opposites of the Metroplex. It takes almost two hours by car to get to your house, and only one flying.”
“Did you fly to my house?”
“No, we took the undercover SUV.”
“Is it still at my house?”
“It is, but it’s not going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was parked next to your car.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s better that it goes up in smoke than the possibility that the mob could salvage it and use it against us.”
“True.”
“Listen, just relax and try to relax. When we get to Ferris, I’ll let you know. Until then, close your eyes and try to get some rest.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You’re not,” said Trevor. “ You look exhausted. I won’t let you go, you can count on me.”
“The only person I can count on is myself,” said Lara.
“Well that, dear Lara, is where you are completely wrong.”
***
The Cleaver stood in the street, watching the dragon sail off into the night with his hit. His fists clenched and he struggled to stay calm. She had been right there, and they had missed her. One less traffic light, one less delay since they had left mid-cities would have meant that the dragons would find her dead and gone instead of alive and well. The Don was going to be furious, and if the Cleaver didn’t find a way to make it right, it would be his own head on the chopping block.
The Cleaver was beyond upset at this unfortunate turn of events, but there was no one to blame besides the man that was already lying dead on the ground next to Lara’s car. When the alarm had disarmed, he’d been the only one not to take cover in time. They couldn’t have known that Lara’s car had remote start, but it was a safe bet with a car as new as hers, especially in Texas. With the heat being so stifling, The Cleaver knew more than a few people who left the air conditioning cranked up in their car when they parked so it would come on when the car was turned on. They would start their car from the house, leaving it to cool down for five minutes or more before they left the cool air of their houses.
They should have known, but they didn’t. The Cleaver looked down at the dead man, outwardly stoic and cold, but a hint of sadness touched his heart. This man was the reason they were late, driving slow, missing lights and even getting turned around once and taking a right when he should have gone left. Because of him, a woman that the Cleaver hadn’t wanted to kill to begin with was alive and safe. Now, instead of going after her once and having to deal with the growing knot in the pit of his stomach that showed up with each hit, the Cleaver had to go through this all over again, and tell the new widow that her husband had died because he was a fool. If Lara hadn’t blown him up with her car, the Cleaver would have charged the man with righting the situation, and he would have been on the hook for killing Lara. Now the Cleaver was the one left making sure that nothing incriminating was on the man’s body that would lead back to them.
Then he had to make sure that Lara was silenced once and for all.
He rifled through the man’s pockets, pulling out his wallet and putting it in his own coat pocket. The man hadn’t brought anything else, and the Cleaver wasn’t concerned that any solid evidence would come back on him. The man had been such an average, boring man that The Cleaver hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. It was for the best because it was a lot of work to remember the name of an imbecile who couldn’t get their work done.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said when he was sure that he’d gotten everything they needed. “We’ll find
them, but at least we know that she’s with the Hart twins.”
“Are we sure, Boss?” one of the other men asked.
“I’m always sure,” the Cleaver snapped, his anxiety getting the best of him for a moment. “We need to leave or we’ll end up in the slammer like Jimmy.”
They hurried then, the three remaining men jumping into the car, this time with The Cleaver driving. The first responders would be all over this in a few minutes. He couldn’t risk letting someone incompetent drive, possibly getting them caught. He wasn’t in the mood to call for bail. He needed time to think, and figure a way out of this. More and more, he’d been passing hits off to other mobsters, trying to stay as far away from wet work as possible. But the Don had his favorites, and in the Cleaver’s world, being a favorite meant that he got to do most of the Don’s pet projects. Whether he wanted to or not.
If he ended up in jail for attempted murder, the Don would know about his failure before he got a chance to clean up the mess that had been made of a very simple operation. He would have to explain to the Don why he had opted for a car bomb instead of just shooting the woman, and the Cleaver would be forced to explain that he just didn’t want to kill anyone anymore. Things had changed, his life had changed, and he wasn’t the person that the Don had personally recruited years ago.
The Cleaver shuddered, wishing he hadn’t even thought of the noises in the holding cells. He was driving, and he could see the fire trucks in the distance. They would be long gone before the firetrucks got to them, so there was no reason borrowing trouble. They were in the clear and despite the fiasco, The Cleaver had managed to get what was left of his team out and on the road.
“What are we going to do about the girl, Boss?”
“Nothing, at the moment. I know who has her, and that’s enough for now. They won’t let her go until there’s another hearing for Jimmy and it’s over. By now, everyone in the potential juror pool knows that a guilty verdict is a death sentence. With or without the girl, we have nothing to worry about.”
“So, you’re just going to let her go?”
“No,” he said brusquely, though the thought was tempting. “I’m going to take care of her. I don’t leave loose ends. That’s why Jimmy is in this mess, but I’m not Jimmy. I’ll take care of her, just like the rest. But I don’t have to hurry. She's with those dragons, and they won’t let her out of their sight for a while. I need a plan and I need to regroup after this disaster of a job.”
“Sorry, Boss,” one of the men said from the dark backseat.
The apology irked him and made his hair stand on end in anger.
“If you do your damn job, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shot back.
They murmured their agreement, then fell silent in the backseat, not even speaking amongst themselves.
The Cleaver took deep, cleansing breaths, trying to get himself under control. He needed to remain calm and think. He couldn’t blow up and have news of that get back to the Don. The Cleaver had a reputation of being calm, cool, and collected. If the Don suspected that the Cleaver was losing his touch, he wouldn’t live long enough to make tonight’s failure right.
He pushed the accelerator down and headed down the nearly empty highway thirty-five. He needed to go home, rest and regroup. If he didn’t come up with something to please the Don, he knew he would be next on the hit list.
***
Lara tried to rest, but she couldn’t. The lights of downtown Fort Worth came and went, then the larger, brighter lights of downtown Dallas were on the horizon, then beneath them, then fading away in the distance behind them. Once she got used to being so high in the air, the view was actually spectacular, and she was trying to focus on enjoying the ride. The past few hours had been terrifying, and she still shuddered now and then, her body trembling in fear for so long after the adrenaline crash that her muscles were still twitching in protest.
Trevor sat behind her, his body moving with ease along with the motions of the dragon beneath them. Lara felt like she was in a dream, flying through the air on the magical being as she had dreamed of doing when she was young. Except, the young and innocent Lara didn’t know that dragons really did exist.
I also didn’t believe that something as simple as jury duty would get my car blown up, but there’s that, she thought with a grimace. This entire night was insane, and Lara was still numb. When it all sunk in, she didn’t know what would happen, but part of her was hoping to wake up soon and discover that this had all been a bad dream.
Trevor pulled her closer, jostling her out of her musings and back into the moment.
“We’re going to land soon,” he said in her ear. “I don’t want to scare you, but it’s going to be a little,” he paused, looking for the right word. “Intense.”
She stiffened at the word, stomach tying itself in knots, heart in her throat. What could be more intense than flying above Dallas-Fort Worth on a dragon?
“I don’t understand,” she said, kicking herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
Whatever happened was going to happen, but knowing about it ahead of time was only going to feed her anxiety and nothing more.
“Our neighbors don’t know that we’re shifters. It’s not really common knowledge.”
“You don’t say,” she said sarcastically.
“And there it is. Most Americans have no idea that shifters are real. They see us as something out of a fairy tale and never consider that we could really exist. But we do, and we live among you in secret.”
“There are more of you?”
“Did you think we were some kind of genetic fluke?” he laughed.
“Or a dream. I was kind of hoping that this was a dream.”
“It’s not a dream. This is real life, you’re really in danger, and you’re really a few thousand feet above ground on the back of a dragon.”
“A dragon who is an identical twin and works for the government,” she said, her laugh sounding a little too close to hysterical. “What in the world about this situation could possibly make me wish I was dreaming?”
“I’m sorry this happened to you. I know this must be really hard, and I’m sure you’re scared. But, we’re the best at what we do, and if you’re going to live through this experience, your best bet is with us.”
“I realize that, but it doesn’t mean that I have to like it. How long do I have to stay with you two?”
“I don’t know, and we won’t know for a long while. If we can get evidence to prove that the mob is behind all the deaths and that they are related, that will make it easier, but there’s a chance...” he trailed off without finishing his thought.
“There’s a chance of what?”
“There’s a chance that you’ll never be safe.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The mob isn’t just one or two criminals. There are millions involved in the mob on every level; from the Don, all the way down to the very lowest of the low laundering money in exchange for something they want. Many of the people that are working for the mob don’t do it by choice, and they are afraid for their families and will do anything to ensure their safety. Some do it to get family members smuggled out of war-torn countries. Many of the lower workers are good people that are trapped in a life that they can’t escape.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“The point being that we can never know who is a danger to you, and the mob can hold a grudge like no other. You could be fine for years and then they get their revenge, or they could do it by next week. Without an official pardon by the Don himself, there’s really no way to get the target off of your head.”
“How do you get pardoned?”
“It’s not going to happen. You have to have something the Don wants, and the only thing that you could possibly do would be to hang another jury and cause another mistrial. One, you won’t get called for jury duty for the same case, and two, it’s doubtful that you would end up on the jury of a mobster. So really
, there’s nothing you can do.”
“Maybe he needs a doll,” she said, laughing at her sad attempt at a joke.
“I don’t think mobsters are into dolls, though I understand that you’re quite the artist and your hand-sewn dolls are highly sought after.”
“I keep busy.” Her smile faded. “Well, I did, but I had to leave my stuff behind. So, I guess that I’ll get behind again, and I don’t know how my shop is going to do since I can’t communicate with my clients.”
“You can’t use your phone to access the internet here. They might have-”
“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have my phone on me when you broke into my house. I don’t even know where it is.”
“That’s good,” Trevor said.
“To you, it’s good. To me, it’s just one more way that my life has been turned upside down,” said Lara.
“I’m sorry,” said Trevor.
“It’s not your fault.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry. And I’m sorry about this, too.”
One arm wrapped tightly around her and he leaned forward, squishing her between the dragon and himself while he reached forward to grab the base of one wing. She was about to ask him what he was sorry for when Spencer folded his wings back, put his head down and dropped straight toward the earth.
***
The Cleaver walked into his house, taking a moment just outside the door to prepare himself. Then he flung open the door, a big smile plastered on his face, arms open wide.
“Daddy!” two little voices shouted in unison, getting up from the dining room table, their half-eaten cookies forgotten.
They ran into his arms, showering him with kisses and hugs while his wife, Andrea, stood back with a soft smile on her face. The smile didn’t fool him, but he knew the song and dance, and the game wouldn’t begin until the children were out of earshot. Andrea was about to give him an earful for coming home after eleven, the kids waiting up to kiss him goodnight. But he would convince her to calm down, and in the end, Andrea couldn’t hold a grudge for long.
“I missed you, Eric,” she said, the first punch in her passive aggressive fight.
