Better Run

by Shel Stone

  Carlos crossed his arms and chewed his cheek. There was something he needed to say, but didn’t want to.

  “Spit it out,” Palmer growled.

  “If the Feds are here, your girl’s in trouble.”

  Stilling, Palmer absorbed the statement and then exhaled. His brain tried to think through the options, but what Carlos was saying was true. She was wanted in the state, the local cops would overlook it if he wanted, but the Feds wouldn’t. If they started observing, they would see her and the local cops would be forced to move.

  Closing his eyes, he stroked along his cheeks. She had to go. It wasn’t possible for her to stick around now.

  “What do you want me to do about the club owner? He’s pretty irate.”

  His customers were supposed to be under his protection and now some asshole had come in and shot it up. This meant every other club was now nervous too. Consideration to Conner’s uncle wasn’t in play anymore. “Let’s put some plans together to act,” Palmer finally conceded. “But we have to deal with the Feds. I don’t want them anywhere near it when we do. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Carlos said.

  “Fucking little prick,” Palmer swore. Conners was dead. It was the only solution. “Have the plane ready and some papers for the girl.”

  Turning away, Palmer walked back to the door and down to the elevator.

  “Morning,” Nook said as he walked into the kitchen. She stood in one of his t-shirts, which looked large on her. Her hair wild and her cheeks pink. She smiled at him and came to wrap her arms around his waist. “I thought you were gone. I’m glad you’re not.” There was promise in her eyes.

  Reaching his hands up, he stroked his thumbs along her cheeks, and leaned down to kiss her. It felt bittersweet, because this was the end—she had to go. Soft, warm lips met his. Sadness washed over him. She didn’t know yet, and he didn’t want to break it to her—wanted to hide her away in his room and keep the world out. It wasn’t realistic, though.

  If he cared about her, he had to do this. “The situation has changed, Nook,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper. This hurt, but it had to be done.

  Her arms let go of him and she stepped back. “How?” Concern was written over her features. “What’s happened? Does it have to do with this coup attempt you mentioned?”

  He didn’t want to set this in action, but he had to. “Yes. It’s drawn attention—from the Feds.”

  Her eyes were shifting between his, trying to understand. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No,” he said with a smile, and pushed one of her blond tresses behind her shoulder. “But you have to leave town now. The country, in fact.”

  “What?” Nook took another step back, her arms coming up to her chest. “I can’t. I don’t even have a passport. Why would they be interested in me?”

  In a way, it was strange that he had to explain this to her. She was so unaware and innocent in some ways. “Well, you were a part of an aggravated robbery, Nook.”

  “Yes, but…” she started. “I never intended to have any role in that. You know that. You know that, right?”

  “I do.” Knowing her as he did now, he couldn’t see her being a part of a plot like it. She was all about self-containment and freedom. She’d never align herself to something like that—but then here she was, aligned with him.

  Her answer pleased him. “These are the Feds and they’re not going to care what your intentions were. They will arrest you, and you will go to prison.”

  Frowning deeper, she blinked. Her confusion was real. “But I’ve never hurt anyone.”

  “Come here,” he said and drew her to him. “So you have to run again, Nook.”

  “Leave the country? I don’t understand. I’ve never even been to Canada.”

  “It will be alright, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “What?” she asked. Unfortunately, they didn’t. The local cops and the Feds could be conferring with the DEA right now and if they didn’t know about Nook by now, they soon would. They’d been seen around town, going out as if nothing would ever touch them, but she was wanted in relation to the robbery and shooting. There was CCTV with her running out of the apartment. The cops had it. They had her ID’d already.

  “Yeah, we’ve got to go. Now. Go pack your things.”

  This lovely interlude with the two of them was over. There would be no more mornings waking up next to her, evenings spent in bed. Fuck, he was going to miss her.

  Nook disappeared into the bedroom to pack. It didn’t take long. She had practically nothing. The stuff she’d ordered hadn’t even arrived yet.

  “Where am I supposed to go and for how long?”

  “We’ll talk in the car, okay?”

  “How am I supposed to get there? I don’t have a passport. Will there be people looking for me at the airport?”

  “Come,” he said, urging her to the door. Every moment they waited put her at risk. Getting her clear was of utmost importance just now. “It will be okay, I promise.”

  Bravely, she nodded, but he knew she didn’t feel quite so brave inside.

  They walked out of the apartment and to the elevator where she embraced him on the way down. “I don’t want to go.”

  “I know,” he said. “But you have to. It’s either go or prison. I can’t protect you from these charges. Not now.”

  As the elevator opened, he looked around, fearing seeing Feds approaching, but there was no one. Nook would be the one way they could reach him and they’d take the excuse just for the purpose of interviewing him. They didn’t give a damn about her, but they’d use her for all they could. Her the perpetrator, him the victim. They’d be requesting interviews about it by tomorrow.

  Quickly he drove out of the building and along the street. A few of his own security pulled out and followed behind him. Carlos was apparently stepping up security to more active.

  It felt like his control was slipping, and in some way it was—because he couldn’t keep the one person he wanted near him.

  “When can I come back?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Not for some time, was the real answer. Feds took a long time to close down cases once they’d opened them. Fucking Conners. Palmer was going to kill him himself. Motherfucker. The kid had opened a Pandora’s Box and he wasn’t even aware of it—couldn’t see the consequences of his actions.

  It wasn’t a long drive to the airport and he didn’t go to the main International terminal, instead the more exclusive entrance for private travel.

  Pulling to a stop in front of the small terminal building, a valet waited. “Mr. Dorian,” the guy said. “A package for you.” A manila envelope was given to him and he handed over the keys.

  Opening it, he pulled out the material, which included a birth certificate, a driver’s license and a passport. Nook’s picture was on the license, probably from her social media, photoshopped into an official looking photo.

  Documents like this weren’t cheap, but they would pass for real. “Here,” he said, handing them over to Nook.

  “Sarah McDonald? Do I look like a Sarah McDonald?”

  “Better than being in Prison—Sarah,” he said quietly so only she could hear.

  It wasn’t a name that suited her, but this was short notice, and there was a traceability reason the name was chosen.

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said. Little had ever made him as nervous as this. What did it say about him if he feared her getting caught now more than anything else in his life?

  They walked into the building and a hostess waited to greet them. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Off to Brazil, I understand,” she said and showed them into the building. It wasn’t large, but it was intended for one traveling party at a time.

  “Just her,” Palmer said.

  The woman took the passport, still smiling. “Of course,” she said. “Sarah, if you would come this way.”

  Nook looked at him for a moment, a sense of panic shif
ting in her eyes.

  “We’ll just have customs clear you and we’ll proceed to the plane. Any luggage today?”

  “No,” Nook said, her arms tightly crossed.

  “Don’t look so nervous,” Palmer said, taking her hand.

  With a tense smile, Nook tried to compose herself as they reached a small desk, where a young woman sat in her customs uniform. She smiled as she took the passport, swiping it through the computer. Time slowed down and it seemed to take forever. Nook’s grip on his hand tightened, but she remained outwardly calm.

  “Have a good trip,” the customs woman finally said, placing the passport back on the counter.

  “Thanks,” Palmer said, taking the passport and followed the hostess out to the waiting plane that Carlos had hired for Nook. “Please give us a moment,” he asked the hostess, who slipped away.

  The drone of the engines pierced, more in the distance where the main terminal was.

  “I don’t want to go,” Nook said. Her large eyes were sad.

  “This has to happen. Staying isn’t an option.”

  “I’ve just found you.”

  It did feel deeply unfair. They’d only had a few days together, and now they were being pushed apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. It was as though happiness had offended the powers that were. This was perhaps his punishment for believing for a moment that things could be different. For this life he’d stolen, his rise from nothing by his sheer will. But it was all melting through his fingers right now. There was always a price to pay when you exerted your will on the world, and this was how he needed to pay up.

  Even now, he feared the Feds coming out of the building behind him to take her away. Protecting her was the only thing he could do now.

  His arms around her, he kissed her. It would be the last time for a while. This thing between them might not survive this. She couldn’t come back, and he couldn’t leave. It was probably best for both of them to let this fade. It had been an affront to something, and it was lashing out, effectively destroying them in one foul swoop.

  Lifting her to him, her whole body was to his. He didn’t want to let her go, but she wouldn’t if he didn’t. Every moment counted and he was being selfish and putting her at risk.

  Tearing himself away, he turned. “Okay, you need to get on the plane.”

  She stood for a moment, looking forlorn. “Will I see you?”

  “I’ll come down at some point.” In his heart, he wanted to, but intellectually, he didn’t know if he should. Maybe they were better off if he didn’t. It wasn’t something he could bring himself to think analytically about right now, because it hurt too much to admit any hard truths.

  Placing his hand at her back, he led her to the steps leading up into the plane. He needed her to go. This was agony and they were just extending it, but he couldn’t stop embracing her when she turned on the first step. They stood in silence, just embracing.

  “Go now,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. Her eyes had a haunted look as she stepped up into the plane, where the stewardess greeted her, guiding her to a seat. Efficiently, the woman nodded at him before drawing the door closed.

  Nook’s face appeared at one of the windows and she put her palm to it. She was scared, and he knew it. It killed him that he couldn’t do anything more than this, but this placed her out of reach. If they could just get off the ground before anyone came rushing in.

  The plane started moving away, taxiing toward the runway. He waited as it did its final checks and then careened down the runway, finally lifting off into the air. It was too far away for him to see her face, but she was out of harm’s way now. If nothing else, that felt like a relief.

  One last look and he turned back to the building. It was time to clean up this fucking mess Conners had caused. Letting the wrong people in had been badness that had assaulted him lately. First that Sammie fucker and now Conners. In both cases, he’d let in people he hadn’t chosen himself, and that was not something he was going to let happen again.

  His mind was calm as he got back into the car and paid a tip to the valet. It was time to put emotion to side and act according to cold facts and strategic intent.

  Chapter 33

  THE PLANE FINALLY LANDED after hours. It was hot when she got out and she was met with craziness. The people spoke, but she didn’t understand, finally seeing a man with her name on a small board. Fucking Sarah. It so didn’t suit her, but neither did prison. Aggravated robbery could be twenty years inside, and if Palmer couldn’t stop that from happening, she had absolutely no chance.

  It smelled funny, the air felt different. The sun was bright. People spoke too fast. There was a radio on inside the car she was led to, an endless stream of words, and the traffic terrified her. Everything was different, the billboards, the cars, the clothes people wore. Motorcycles everywhere.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  The driver answered, but she couldn’t understand a word he said. Reaching over, he handed her an envelope and Nook reluctantly accepted it. Inside was a key, a swipe card, a credit card and a bundle of cash. Money she’d never seen before. Dirty and smelly money. She had no idea how much it was. Didn’t even know what the money was called here.

  Traffic crawled to a stop and she wanted to cry. On the plane she’d wanted to cry too, but that damned stewardess had been there the whole time, constantly asking if she wanted another drink, or food.

  They drove along some kind of motorway, colorful houses on each side. Messy. Everything was messy. And there was trash on the sidewalks in places. The signs were all in Brazilian, she assumed. She couldn’t understand anything, until she saw a McDonalds. It was the only familiar thing she’d seen so far.

  The people were so different, the ones she saw. Their hair, their clothes. Some dark, some light.

  The buildings turned more commercial. Banks and offices, then the beach. A really long beach.

  “Copacabana,” the man said and Nook’s eyebrows rose. As far as she knew, that was a Barry Manilow song.

  There were lots of people on the beach wearing thongs—even the guys, some of them. Crazy brown and gorgeous bodies with blond hair. Ripped dudes in speedos and ponytails.

  The car pulled over. “Okay, here,” the driver said as if pleased. His English was heavily accented. Getting out, he opened the car door for her and she looked around. Fuck it was hot.

  With his hand, he directed her to the door of the building, then got back in the car and drove away, leaving her there. The glass doors of the building were locked when she tried them. Now what? What the fuck was she supposed to do?

  Inside, a man came, wearing a uniform and smiling. Leaning over to the side, he pressed a button to unlock the door and held it open to her. “Miss Sarah?” he asked in a heavily accented voice. A sigh of relief washed over her, because she’d been starting to wonder if that driver had just randomly dropped her off somewhere.

  “Yes,” she replied. “The driver dropped me off here.”

  “Welcome to Rio. I will show you around. I am Matteo,” he said and walked ahead of her to an elevator. The place was nice. Marble floors, large palm plants and quiet compared to the chaos she’d just had to sit through. “You are American, yes?”

  “Yes.” She followed him into the elevator and he pressed the sixth floor. Throughout, he never stopped smiling and it got on her nerves, because smiling was not what she felt like doing right now. She was exhausted and not just slightly frayed. Everything was too much to take in just at the moment. It was all happening too fast and she had no control over any of it.

  The man took her to a white door and opened it with a swipe card. This had to be a hotel of some kind. He let her go first into a bright and light space. It was gorgeous and the view was both of the beach and the sea beyond. The air was cool and it was silent.

  “Okay,” Matteo said. “This is your apartment. Welcome to—” He said something in Portuguese that she couldn’t understand. “I am downstairs. Y
ou can ask me when you need something. You dial zero,” he said, pointing at the phone sitting on the breakfast bar, “I answer.”

  “Right, yeah,” she said, putting her bag down on the floor and looking around the apartment. Tip, her mind said, but Matteo had already gone and the door was slowly swinging shut.

  Staring at it for a moment, she didn’t know what to do. This apartment was huge and gorgeous, and she couldn’t afford to stay an hour in here, let alone the night. Palmer had set this up, but he did realize she couldn’t afford this, right? She literally had no money, except what was in the Manila envelope in her hand—which might be enough for a week for all she knew.

  Moving across, she sat down on the couch. It felt foreign. This was not the kind of places she stayed in. Her fingers to her lips, she sighed deeply. What the hell was she going to do? Obviously, she’d moved cities and started over—only just recently, in fact—but never to a place where she knew nothing. She couldn’t even speak the language. What the hell was she supposed to do? Work in a strip joint?

  And how long was this apartment paid for? What was she going to do after it ran out? Or was Palmer going to support her forever? Not actually something she wanted. Fuck. Tears were stinging the back of her eyes. Everything she knew had just been ripped out from under her. Obviously, she got that this was necessary—she was wanted by the Feds. Not just the local cops, but the Feds, which meant in every state. It wasn’t simply an issue of packing up and going to another state anymore. It was so unfair. She hadn’t done anything.

  Her mom crept into her mind—who had no idea where she was. In fact, it was the only phone number she knew by heart.

  Rising, she walked over to the phone and dialed her mom’s number, but some Brazilian dude answered, speaking an endless rabble of words that sounded like he was cussing at her. Hanging up, she sobbed. It didn’t work. The number went somewhere in Brazil. Just now, it felt like she’d just exchanged one prison for another.