All Blues

by Marie Wathen

  “Ssh,” I instruct her to keep quiet by placing my finger over her warm lips, damn sure wish I could shut her up with my own instead. I kneel down in front of her, caressing my hand over her soft jaw line.

  “What the fuck?” she asks through a growl. “You shouldn’t be here, especially drunk! What are you doing?”

  “What the fuck am I doing?” At a time like this, how can she ask me this question? “You can’t just go in there alone with that crazy fucker!”

  For a moment, I think I see a flash of relief on her face, like she is happy that she isn’t going through this fatal scenario completely alone. Instead of gratitude, she masks her emotions and then pops off with her killer attitude that I love so much. “Get out of here, Blues. I mean it. This isn’t any of your business.”

  “Get up!” Hatfield demands inside the small exam room less than a foot away from us, and then it sounds like he is smacking someone. “Now or I will shoot one of those disgusting kids!”

  Swallowing the building anxiety made so because of his vile threats, I whisper, “Hell no.” Then I warn, “I’m not leaving you, Doll.” She glances away from my intense stare, her eyes landing on my lips, and I believe that she is about to kiss me. Then she shakes that thought from her head, and nails me with a bitter look.

  Poison laces her voice, “You are the reason that son of a bitch is in there doing this shit.”

  My hands fall away and I swear to god that it feels like my whole world is crumbling into ash right in front of me. Her grey eyes don’t hold one ounce of love for me anymore, all that remains is disgust. The hatred is understandable. She is so fucking right about my position with Hatfield. Because of drugs and selfish motherfuckers, like the one that I have been for the past two years, this and other events similar to this debauchery, happens daily. Specifically, tonight’s incident affects the woman that I love because I didn’t take a proactive stance and stop him ahead of time. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been focused on saving my friends and family.

  I AM TO BLAME.

  Tearing my guilty eyes away from her hypercritical ones, I admit, “You’re right.”

  Standing, I step around Sam and walk straight into the room with Mark ‘Mad Hatter’ Hatfield. On top of all the insanity of finding out that Sam is a cop, and deciding on the fly that sacrificing my life for hers, as well as the hostages, which is only a drop in the bucket of repayment for my sinful deeds, I am totally unprepared for the astonishing shit I see when I come face to face with Hatfield’s craziness. The sick fucker is standing in the middle of the room wearing some wild clothes. His hair is a greasy, nasty mess and he is holding a gun to an unconscious Bradley “Rad” Jones’ head. Seeing Rad here confirms that Sam was his partner while inside the X’kapz. Sadly, I don’t have any idea which of the women huddled up in the corner is her best friend. Fucking hell, this isn’t good. If Mad has any idea that Rad is undercover and that we are acquainted, he could open fire and kill these innocent people without thinking.

  Initially, Mad Hatter doesn’t believe that I’m here to help him work out an arrangement with the local cops so that he can escape. He demands a helicopter so that is exactly what I agree to do for him. By way of his need to get high, I decide to work in my hostage negotiation skills and develop the perfect plan.

  “What do you say Mad?” I ask, watching his crazy eyes bounce from me, down to Rad, and then glaring across the room at the line of little kids all crying and shaking uncontrollably. “Are we cutting the kids loose or what?”

  “Whatever,” he snaps, shifting his attention back to me, “I need to think.”

  “Sure. Hey, want a smoke?” I tug out a pack of Marlboro from my shirt pocket, plucking one from the box. “I could use one.”

  His face scrunches up in disgust. “No, I don’t fucking smoke anything except weed.”

  “A joint then?” I ask, ecstatic with the smile that blossoms across his face. This is exactly what I was hoping for. I knew that he wouldn’t resist.

  “Yeah,” he nearly shouts with excitement.

  I tell him, “Got some good shit in my wallet. I need to roll it up.” I slide a small bag of old weed from my leather billfold and then ask, “Want to send the kiddos out first?”

  With his eyes and mouth watering with anticipation, he roars, “I don’t give a fuck. Just hurry the hell up. I need the shit now.”

  Delaying his high is risky, but right this second, I want these kids far away from his kind of crazy. “Alrighty kids, Uncle Mad is letting you go. Come on.” Grabbing a couple of little girls up, I encourage, “Run, do not walk down the hallway and head straight out the front door. The Po-Po is waiting for you.”

  Some resist, clinging to their moms and dads as if it will be their last chance to see them alive, but for the most part, they all race toward freedom. I escort one tiny girl into the hallway. When I make eye contact with Sam, I insist that she should leave too. Of course she refuses because she is just as stubborn today as she was the first time that I met her.

  Sharing the joint that I half-ass roll, I casually toss out the next weapon in my hostage release arsenal, trying to convince him that since none of the victims are injured he has a great chance of walking away without incident. He doesn’t buy it, so I keep offering up ideas.

  With fewer hostages and because of Mad’s agreeability to my suggestions, some of my anxiety diminishes. And then, Hatfield drops a bomb on me. Actually, he levels me with several, and within moments everything explodes into utter shit.

  After firing up the joint, I pass it off to him and ask, “So, want to tell me why we’re here?”

  He laughs manically, and answers, “I needed drugs.”

  “There are easier ways to get it than busting up into a kiddie’s emergency room,” I chuckle at the absurdity.

  Anger morphs throughout his features and he growls, “Not for me. I’ve been cut off from all you motherfuckers! Even Decks after everything I did for him! I hooked him up with the ghost who’s going to change everything just by taking a risk.”

  “Wait,” I interrupt when what he says registers. “Are you talking about Dr. A? That fucker’s real?”

  Smoke rolls out of his mouth as he laughs at my question. “Oh yeah, and he’ll be our escape plan C on catching a ray if you can get us out of here alive. But first, I have a debt to repay. That bastard Decks cut me off because of the slut he’s been fucking. His bitch is the next one on my list to die when we get out of here, Blues.”

  Decks’ slut? Is he referring to Angel? How the hell does she play into all of this? “Angel?”

  He reaches down, grabbing up Rad, who he tossed away for his party-favor. The guy has been unconscious since I walked into the exam room. He pulls out the gun that he had tucked into the back of his pants. “She really fucked me over letting my whore run away.” The freak racks a bullet into the chamber, and pulls the cop and former member of Decks’ crew in the X’kapz, to his knees. A painful choking sound, followed by a gurgle, comes from inside the room.

  My eyes move in direction of a tipped over gurney, and I ask, “Mad, is one of the hostages injured?”

  “Fuck her!” He juts his chin toward the sound. Then he loops an arm through one of Rad’s, dragging him to stand up. “Here you take this bastard’s left arm, and I’ll take his right.”

  This is happening! Seeing that I’ve run out of options, I can only pray that Attacus has joined Sam in the hallway and they are prepared when I ask, “We’re going out the front door?”

  Together, Hatfield and I lift Rad’s lifeless body up to his feet. He is all dead weight, so we are pretty much doing all the work. My eyes narrow on the dark hallway and for the first time tonight, I wish that I had my duty weapon. This isn’t going to end well. I just pray that Sam and my brother aren’t the ones to die tonight. If I have to sacrifice my own life for them, I won’t hesitate.

  A couple of steps away from the doorway, I feel Rad’s body stiffen and glance down. He makes eye contact with me, looking
completely confused and blurts, “Blues?” My heart literally stops beating as I turn my attention to the armed demented man, holding Rad’s other arm.

  Just as I expect, he doesn’t take this information well at all. Eyes bulging, he screams, “What the fuck? You know this piece of shit?”

  In a split second, chaos erupts. Hatfield waves the gun in the air, gesturing between me and Rad. Knowing that Sam may take his reckless hand waving as a sign of aggression toward her partner, my eyes pierce the darkness ahead. I spot Sam, fear sweeping across her beautiful face, staring right into my eyes. Her service weapon is aimed directly at Hatfield’s temple.

  Barely able to form words, I stammer, “What…?”

  At the exact moment, Rad notices her in front of us, too. Completely weakened by a head injury that Hatfield gave him, Rad uses every bit of strength in his reserve bank to issue an order.

  “Kill the fucker, Sam!”

  Immediately, it is followed up with what sounds like a sonic boom coming from the end of the corridor. In a blink of an eye, the hallway fills with dust and debris and my whole world alters.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Upon hearing Rad’s command, Hatfield turns in Sam’s direction, his gun lifting up and aiming into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. My worst nightmare unfolds right in front of my face. In an attempt to save the woman that I love, I lunge forward, willing to take the bullet for her. I can’t lose her, not like this. Not when the end is so close and I’ll be free to confess everything that I haven’t been allowed. Unfortunately, Rad’s body weight is dumped onto me, causing both of us to fall face first into the doorway, sprawling between two loaded guns, one sick fucker, and one stubborn ass woman.

  Immediately after warning him to put down his gun and identifying herself as an officer of the law, two rounds are fired between them. My head lifts from the cold, hard floor and I watch as Sam’s backside bounces off the wall behind her. At this image, I experience one of those moments that you hear about in movies or read about in books. With a single bullet, my whole world has been threatened. My very life, the good and bad memories, flashes before me in a brisk tribute. All of the moments that I could comfortably note as the things that made me the man that I am today are highlighted, and it isn’t even me who has been shot. But, somewhere in my soul I realize that this woman, Samantha Walker, is my life. None of what crafted me into being Ethan “Blues” Sloane, cop or criminal, makes one damn bit of difference if I have to live another second of this worthless existence without her.

  A low, sad moan lifts from the sagging body beside me. I stare down at Rad’s drooping eyes, searching through the dark space ahead. His moan turns into gut wrenching wails as he cries out for Sam. Understanding his anguish, I wrap a comforting hand over his shoulder. He jerks at the unexpected contact, his eyes narrowing into harsh slits, convicting me of every immorality in the world. Guilty as charged, I quickly remove it.

  Sam doesn’t respond, and my heart convulses with an overwhelming need to go to her. On shaky limbs, I push my traumatized body into a kneeling position, staring down at the dark substance pooling only a couple of feet away. Unfortunately, the weight of this event is too much, and I’m frozen. The swelling pain in my chest is unrelenting. Although I feel my chest rising and falling in heavy mouthfuls, it is a severe struggle to do even the most natural things like breathing. The adrenaline rush fades in to body tremors, so I clench my fists, fighting against the weakness, and attempting to gain control. Gripping the door frame, I make a second attempt at standing. Unfortunately, the weight of this event is too much, and I can’t find the strength to budge.

  My brother’s commanding voice gains my attention, and I make eye contact with him briefly before turning my gaze back toward Sam. My eyes scan over her face seeing that her eyes are distant, and muddled. About three inches to the right of her head, I see a bullet buried into a shattered, square tile. Three motherfucking inches to the left, and the future that I pictured with her would have ceased to exist. In my peripheral, I notice Mark Hatfield’s lifeless body, crumpled where it hit the floor seconds ago. Sam killed him, and somehow avoided getting shot.

  The next undetermined minutes are some of the hardest that I have ever lived through. After her kill shot, Sam storms into the room searching for Kris. Stooping next to Russ, I hear him tell her that Hatfield stabbed Kris, and that she is on the floor behind the tipped over gurney. Attacus shoves his way inside the room, offers me and Russell a hand, assisting us to our feet. Then he confirms the status of the captor.

  I cross the room, finding Sam’s trembling body curled around a beautiful young blonde, her punctured body spilling out her life source all over the white tiled floor. The words falling from Kris’ lips are those of a person summing up her life. Even though it’s wrong, I listen for a few moments. I simply can’t break away. From what I gather, Bradley Jones is really Russell Daniels, Sam’s partner. Russ is the brother to Sam’s best friend, Kris, who is a nurse at this hospital. She makes Sam promise to tell her boyfriend and family how she loves them. She admonishes herself for the delays of important personal events. And then, of all things that she could do with her final breaths, she offers relationship counseling to Sam.

  Through ragged breaths, tears and coughs, Kris fights against death to tell Sam, “You know in your soul that finding ways to keep your heart closed off from real love is a lonely existence. I need for you to promise me that you’ll go out there and live. He’s out there Sam…waiting for you. You know this. He…is worth…it all and…so are you.” With her cheek pressing against Kris’ shoulder, Sam shakes her head. “I’m not wrong…so stop thinking it.” A dash of a smile pulls up the corner of my lips. Guess that I’m not the only one that she is so obstinate with. “Blues is your soul mate. He’s the love of your life and the only man that has ever tapped into your hard shell, reached into your soul, and grabbed…your heart….” Sam loves me? “All of it belongs to him Sam and you know it.” Tears roll from Kris’ closed eyes, and Sam grips her tighter. “Maybe…a piece of it belongs to me.”

  “Yes Kris,” Sam gasps, holding back her own sobs, trying to be strong for her friend. “You are more than my best friend. I love you so much.” Kris must be who Sam was speaking to when I caught her on the phone several weeks ago, saying that she loves her.

  More than anything, I want to hold both of them in my arms and whisper promises that nothing bad will ever happen to either of them again. But, this moment isn’t mine, so I leave the room, finding my way outside with my heart imploding from their pain.

  Outside, the chaos is multiplied with numerous families, hospital staff and law enforcement personnel. Fighting my way through, I stagger toward an unoccupied patrol car, leaning my ass against the trunk. After a little while, Attacus finds me, the hard scowl on his face reveals the pain he too feels for everything that just went down.

  “You all right?” he asks, bracing a supportive hand on my shoulder. Turning my attention to the cracked pavement below my feet, I cross an arm around my waist, my other hand scrubbing across the back of my neck. He sighs, and I shrug. “I know, stupid question, but I…I don’t know what else to say.” I nod, also completely at a loss for words. “That shit was totally fucked up. She is one tough chick, but I’m afraid of what this will do to her, Ethan.”

  “I’ll make this right…somehow,” I promise him, and then to myself I mumble, “I had no idea. How could I spend so much time with her and not know that she was undercover?”

  “She’s a good cop.”

  I nod. “She is. I remember what that feels like...”

  “What?”

  “Best time of my life was when I was a on the right side being a good cop.”

  “You still are.”

  “No,” I disagree, pulling my gaze back to his nonjudgmental hazel eyes. “I threw that shit away two years ago and became a fucking waste of space, just like that maggot in there that caused all of her pain.”

  “I’m not going to prete
nd to support your ludicrous plan, because you’ve always known how I feel about it. But, this one isn’t on you. That motherfucker didn’t become a monster over night, and you aren’t responsible for creating him, Ethan.”

  “Maybe not Hatfield, but there are hundreds, probably thousands out there just like him, who have the potential to become that, and I am guilty for their downfall and pain, which pushes them to become so evil. Why didn’t I fucking listen to you two years ago? Why couldn’t I see beyond my own selfish need for settling scores? Sam hates me, and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do about it. I deserve so much more.”

  “Cut the shit,” Attacus snaps, “You are not this pathetic lump of wuss, and I am sick and tired of hearing all this goddamn whining coming out of your mouth. You are not a bitch, so stop acting like one. Jesus. Since New Years, you have taken control and are taking back your life. One step at a time, you will get it back…Respect from your family, and most importantly, your self-respect will return. Stick with your new colleague. A fresh hand has been dealt in the game and you have the chance to go all in to win this time.”

  I huff, “Folding sounds a lot easier.”

  “Pussies fold.”

  “Yeah, well, back at the bar, you told me that I’m lacking balls…”

  “You remember that, huh?” Catching his grin, I force a halfhearted smile, making him chuckle. “That face leads me to believe that giving over the boys is quite painful. Remind me to never fall in love. Speaking of dumb ideas, during all the bullshit, Lourdes was arrested on attempted murder charges,” I quirk an eyebrow, “I overheard on the radio a few minutes ago.”

  “I will personally make sure that bitch fries for the hell that she created for Sam. God, because of Lourdes’ crazy obsession with me, she was targeted all around. I feel like even more of a disappointment.”

  “What can I say? The Sloane men are well-known for bringing out the freak in the ladies.” I snort at his joke. “I’ll bet that little hottie that you somehow landed is freak-tastic.”