Survivor (The Soul Mates Series Book 1)

by Victoria Johns

  Chris knew all about terror, he knew the fear from having your woman in danger because I’d seen to that for him. I’d taken her and caused him to experience what no one wants to feel. Helpless. Because of that, I knew he understood my internal panic and prayed that it was enough to manipulate him into keeping my woman safe.

  We kissed goodbye and I couldn’t push away the look of sorrow I saw in her eyes, she should have been excited, there was a temporary loosening of the leash and she could have some fun. Instead she looked too sad to be going out and when I finished kissing her, she whispered, “I love you.” Before I could drag her back and rejoice by returning the words, Cara turned and walked through the door.

  Those three simple words, calmed the raging concern inside me like never before. She loved me. I feel a goddamn pussy for thinking it, but I know I felt a sweeping calm spread from my chest and all of a sudden I was able to breathe again.

  Cara wanted a life with me, I’d opened up days ago and she’d never responded. When she finally did I thought it was because she was thinking things through. Knowing she had taken it so seriously, to wait for days, caused my hope to surge and explode.

  It was hope that quickly turned to dread.

  A dread that became a realization.

  And realization that flicked all my emotions and feelings off like a light switch.

  Jonas was checking in with Chris and Oli regularly and all seemed good, exactly the same as the last time he text them.

  Then a call came.

  “When did you last see her?” Jonas barked down the phone. “OK. Fuck. We’re on our way.”

  “What the fuck has happened?” I said with calmness that I really didn’t know I possessed, as he slid his phone back in his pocket.

  “She’s gone.”

  Hearing him confirm it, made my new found zen and calmness take a hike instantly. By the time it had sunk in I was already bolting for the door, I knew he’d be close behind me. On arrival at Purps nightclub, we all headed to the manager’s office upstairs. I needed to see the CCTV footage and figure out who had taken her because I was still working with the theory that she’d been snatched.

  Oli was distraught and apologetic, as was Chris, but in all honesty I couldn’t look at either of them. I’d entrusted her safety to them. They’d failed and she’d been taken on their fucking watch. This wasn’t like when I dragged Neely into my last job, this was totally different. I was there to protect Neely, keeping her alive had been my main priority. I would have forgot the case and my job if there was any danger that she may be hurt, my main goal was always her safety.

  Cara had no one and the shit useless training I’d given her, was about making her feel safer, but more just a way for her to trust me and my dad. I always knew it would be fucking useless in a crisis, because I always assumed I’d have her covered.

  “There she is,” Jonas pointed at the screen. We all watched, following her around the club, switching between different cameras when she finally led us to a fire exit, where she just left. Jonas clicked some buttons and switched the screens to view the outside camera’s, where the last sighting of her saw her take a piece of paper out of her purse and put it under a car windshield. After checking it was in place, for the briefest of seconds, she then bent down, took off her shoes and just… ran.

  She fucking ran.

  No bad guys bundling her into the back of an awaiting car. No guns or heavies in sight. Just Cara, running.

  “She must have had some contact,” I mumbled, “I need that fuckin’ note.”

  Jonas followed me outside leaving the others in the office. I reached for the note and opened it, I knew my hands were shaking and I was way past hiding it.

  Ross,

  Forgive me. I love you.

  Please forgive me.

  They’re getting closer, contacting you proves that. I can’t lead them to your life anymore. Don’t hate me for running, after all it’s what I do best.

  I haven’t had time to write a lengthy letter, but know this, I’ve never been happier than when I was with you. For the first time life was worth living, it mean’t something.

  I’ve never had a life worth living before and you gave me that and so much more. You know I’ll remember everything about you and I will treasure it all. Those good memories keep away the dark ones and you understand what that means to me.

  Just know that another time, another place, another me and I would have jumped head long into my ‘one day’ with you, the life you described for us, it would have been a dream come true.

  Don’t look for me. This is for the best.

  Cx

  The grip I’d got on the paper was punishing.

  She’d left me, she didn’t have enough faith in me to stick around and let me sort her shit out.

  Jonas stayed silent, I figured my body language gave me away. I should have been resigned to this outcome and I would be, but first I needed to work through some shit.

  Anger.

  It was coming to consume the rational me.

  I leaned on the hood of the nice new car and welcomed the destruction taking shape in my body. My fists pummeled dents in the body work and I raged through the pain, but I don’t remember feeling any physical pain. I kicked door panels with all my might until I was wrung out and spent. I sat on the floor, breathing so heavily my head was pounding and when I opened one of my hands, I saw the scrunched up wad of paper. Her letter, the final act and an admission that I wasn’t enough for her to stay and fight. I threw it on the ground and stayed put. “Just leave me man, I need a few minutes,” I wheezed out.

  “Sure, I’ll head back to the others.” Then I remembered the others, they’d been left in the office and had seen my violent act of rejection, live in action.

  How fucking humiliating.

  Neely appeared at the door, “Come on Hulk, let’s get you home.”

  Home.

  Interesting concept. Where the fuck was home?

  Never had all I worked for felt so worthless. I’d given my life to a job and got nothing in return, no real home, fuck all. She’d taken that, I wanted her to become my home and she’d smashed that to pieces.

  The very next day I left to go back to Rockton. I was feeling sullen and wanted to lick my wounds. I was done and I wouldn’t chase her.

  Fuck, I was becoming my old man. I gave my life for the service, took everything for granted and still ended up alone. I had to trust that he’d help me find my future because he was the only one left I could turn to.

  Three weeks later, whilst I was at home licking my wounds, came the news I knew should have been inevitable.

  When I should have been searching for her, because that’s what I’d promised and I was too busy being a pussy and sulking, Cara’s body had been found. The woman I wanted to become my entire world was left, dumped in an alley hundreds of miles away.

  Chapter Thirty One

  That was the night I died.

  In truth it felt real, leaving Ross killed me inside.

  It was getting out of hand and I couldn’t see any possible good outcome, then Sam received another Dr Seuss message:-

  ‘I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.’

  This time there was a number. Jonas and Sam, called it without Ross or me knowing and ended up speaking directly to Guiseppe.

  He wanted to see me and that was never going to happen on Ross’s watch, so to pull it off, I had to leave. Sam was on board and Jonas promised he’d keep me safe.

  In the days leading up to my departure I tried to cram in as much Ross time as possible because I knew he’d struggle to forgive me this time. I didn’t know when I was going to go or how, I’d put my faith in Jonas to pull that Houdini act off.

  In the end I had nine hours notice, Jonas had some trusted people waiting, they were going t
o pick me up and take me to a safe place whilst onward arrangements were being made.

  I didn’t want to feel relief that the end was in sight, but I’d settled on the notion that my brother would end this in the way I’d always expected it would go.

  That night, I rounded the corner from the nightclub and ran, my instructions were to meet a car with a license plate I’d been given at a gas station on the edge of Hawkstown.

  It was there, as I’d been assured it would and waiting behind the wheel was Sonny Marks, the other member of Jonas’s guy gang that seemed to hang on the edge of everyone else’s drama. “Ready?” I couldn’t answer, the comprehension of what I’d done was taking root in my brain. I’d left him after he’d asked me not to. I’d done the one thing I promised I wouldn’t do. Tears flowed freely and I felt that dawn of regret, stab into me with every mile and salty tear that passed. “I can turnaround and call it all off if you don’t wanna do this.”

  “I…” I was about to vehemently agree and demand he do it, until he carried on.

  “But we both know you need to do this, you can’t go forward if you’re always looking back.” Sonny was right, so I took a deep breath and nodded in the direction of the highway.

  We travelled for about three hours to an old air strip where I climbed aboard a jet. Sitting in one of the seats waiting for me was Old Sam. Seeing him brought about the second breakdown I’d been working to hide on the road trip. I’d dragged him into this and now he’d betrayed his son for me. I folded into his arms and cried uncontrollably, his hands and arms offered me strength and comfort, but the only real strength and comfort I wanted was from the guy I’d run away from.

  “Glass of water please,” he asked the steward, who kindly returned with one and a box of tissues. “Alright Mouse, we won’t be on this bucket long, we need to get a few things straight and sorted.” I gulped the water and blew my nose, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve been in contact with your brother Guiseppe, he’s going to meet us alone. If he reneges on that condition he’s going to become intimately acquainted with my best pals, Smith and Wesson.” When I clocked what he meant, I sat up in my seat and paid attention.

  “Big brother assures me he wants to talk, he says he’s acting outside of the family. He said he hoped the last Dr. Seuss thing would make you feel at ease, said it described him. He also knew that the fucked up word of Seuss was something that you and your momma shared. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes and no. He’s right about my infatuation with Dr. Seuss, I got that from our mom, but I’m not sure it describes him.”

  “Either way, I promise I’ll keep you safe. I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve. You gotta get yourself straight Mouse, you can’t be upset, you need to be strong for this meet. Jonas is looking after Ross, who is completely in the dark, one of your brother’s prerequisites.”

  “He’ll never forgive me,” I mumbled.

  “In time he will, but you gotta promise to follow my lead and stick to the plan OK?”

  I nodded, my emotions were fraying again thinking about Ross.

  After the plane ride a car was waiting for us. We pulled up at an old farmhouse on the outskirts of a huge ranch in Montana, so remote, I imagine we were probably two giant steps from Canada. The man I’d been running from for all this time was stood waiting for me on the porch. Guiseppe looked tired. My once handsome brother had aged with the weight of the lifestyle he’d chosen. If I hadn’t spent the last year or so fearing for my life, I may have felt sorry for him. When that emotion threatened, I did the best thing possible, I pictured my father stood beside him basking in pride at the evil he’d created.

  Sam reached for my hand and reassured me that he was in control and that I was safe. As I climbed out of the car, an older woman appeared behind him. A ghost I thought I’d never see again apart from in my memories.

  My mom.

  Blackness swamped my vision and the last thing I remember is Guiseppe rushing forward to help Sam stop me from hitting the deck.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  *****

  Ross

  I drank.

  I drank some more.

  And I drank until there was possibly more alcohol in my system than blood. It was the only way to chase away the karma that was devouring me. Karma that I’d wasted years on a job which guaranteed you a life of loneliness and unhappiness. They do not tell you that shit when you sign on.

  Dad was AWOL for a period of time when I got back, I’m not sure how long, but the days drunkenly stumbled into each other. I didn’t ask where he’d been and he didn’t offer any explanations. Like me, he was missing Cara, it didn’t take a brainiac to see he’d come to care about his mouse and that he blamed me for losing her.

  I recognized the silent reflection he was going through because I’d seen it before, after my mom had died. Unlike him though, I didn’t have anyone else relying on me to work through the pain, good fucking job really.

  Work chased me constantly and I could have gone back, but then I found out that good old Terry Lowe had retired. He didn’t do the decent thing and trip away into the sunset with the disgrace he deserved, no, he fucking soaked it up. The lying cock sucker got a huge retirement payout and a fabulous party to celebrate his illustrious career.

  Fuck. That.

  Give the rest of my life to the ATF knowing they’d been in the thick of it all, I’d rather blow my own head off than eat that shit every day. That was the last day I held my shit together and remained partially sober, just long enough to type and mail a resignation letter.

  Jonas kept in touch, I knew he had more details about Cara’s death, but I felt like I didn’t deserve to feel the loss that a true partner should feel. I’d betrayed her, I’d not hunted her down to keep her safe and my penance was living with that every day for the rest of my life.

  Thankfully the possessions she’d left at dad’s place were minimal and nothing worth actually keeping. I was glad about that, reminders were killing me. I kept the windows closed for as long as possible in my bedroom to try and retain her smell, her essence, but after a while it made me feel sick to my stomach.

  I saw one article about her funeral, a procession and send off fit for a Hollywood star. Her ashes were buried with her mother’s. The L.A. times called them ‘business owners,’ the grieving family were pictured looking solemn and at that point I was a minor defcon level away from dusting off my sniper skills and putting the balance of things right.

  “Son, this shit can’t continue,” my dad said during one of our many nights of zero communication. I’d got into a routine of knocking back a case of beer and then sleeping it off until it was time to repeat it the next day.

  “What do you suggest I do? Security at the seven-eleven? Undercover intelligence at the diner?” I whipped back sarcastically.

  “Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself. You can’t change it and so far lettin’ it eat you up ain’t working either. There’s plenty of shit that needs doing round here.”

  “That’s your shit, not mine.”

  “How about we make some of this your shit? There’s a chunk of land out back, have it, build a place and put down some roots.”

  That was a strange notion. In reality when he said ‘chunk of land,’ he meant fucking acres of it. I wasn’t violently opposed to the idea, but I lacked the motivation, what would be the point?

  “I’ll do you a deal, help you build a place, turn your mind to something useful and if it don’t feel right when it’s done, we’ll sell it.”

  “I dunno,” and I really didn’t.

  “I’d give you until the morning to decide but the lumber is already ordered and being delivered then.” He got up and left me with a sunset and a few more beers to think it over. After a while the only thing I could see was the sun shining on the hillside, illuminating the cabin like a flashing beacon begging me to make a decision.

  Dad nor I had been up there since she’d… gone. I still couldn’t say the word died because I d
idn’t feel it in my heart yet.

  It was going to be one last trip up there to say goodbye. Then I’ll build a house and see if I can start over and settle into some kind of life.

  I shuffled up the hillside and followed the path, all the while being constantly haunted by memories. Her fucking voice counting numbers was loud and clear inside my head and driving me insane. Maybe this was a shit idea. It wasn’t making me feel better, it was making me angry and worse than that it was making me upset.

  I wondered whether my dad survived my mom’s death because he had time to prepare and come to terms with the inevitable. I wasn’t afforded that warning, I’d given up and then she’d been yanked from my life. I didn’t understand how I was supposed to square it all off so I could carry on, with so much left unsaid.

  I’d promised my dad I wouldn’t go after the Acerbi’s, the old fucker laid a pretty convincing guilt trip on me. In a nutshell, he’d lost my mom, lost his mouse and all we had left were each other. He told me that he didn’t think he could survive waiting for them to show up with news of my passing, because I’d been chasing revenge and courting my own death sentence. I reluctantly agreed, but knew that fate would gift me some opportunity if I was patient and waited. Time was all I had left now, so it was game on.

  The cabin was the way we’d left it when I’d forced her to come and stay with me, nothing homely and no massive reminders to slap me in the face. This was a waste of time, there were no memories to comfort me and cobwebs and dust covered most things. I regretted coming up here, I’d get nothing out of this, just another waste of my time.

  It was getting dark and I didn’t trust myself to wander back down the hill half soaked in beer so I kicked off my shoes and lay on her bunk. I thought about the nights she’d spent up here alone, dreading the fate which took her in the end. I listened to the insects and animals living life as if nothing had changed. I watched the clouds float past the moon and prayed that I’d find some strength from somewhere. I just wanted to feel like me again, I wasn’t after miracles. I just wanted to find the will to carry on, I was fucked off with feeling empty and lost.