by Imani King
“Watch your mouth, princess. I know you think I won’t hurt you, but I will if you push me far enough. And since it seems that you don’t want a part in the movie I generously offer you up for, well, I can smack your face as hard as I like.” He shoved me up the stairs, and I stumbled along, my bare feet cold against the steps. He pushed me into the room where I kept my stuff. Like I’d thought when I first arrived, none of those rooms were really mine. None of it felt like home. The first place I’d found comfort since I’d gone into my father’s custody was in Red’s arms. I stood, my hands still tied, looking at my father.
“That’s just great, Dad. Now I know for sure why Mom left your sorry ass. All of her stories... and I never fully believed her, never thought you could be that cruel.”
“She’s dead now, ain’t she? Can’t come back and tell any more stories, Gabriella. I always thought you were better than she was. But apparently, you aren’t. You’re a slut just like she was.”
My father’s bald head turned red, and he rubbed it, grinning. That grin was seared in my mind as he slammed the door to my room, locking it behind him. I screamed, pulling at the ties that bound my hands. The rope held tight.
I pulled again, trying to move my fingers to reach the ties. But they were numb and fat, unable to reach the knots. The ties were one barrier, the heavy wooden door—now locked—was another. Frantically, I walked over to the window and looked down below. The drop was over forty feet to the stone steps below. My eyes darted around the room, searching for my laptop case. Nothing. He’d already moved it. Even if I could get out of my restraints, I couldn’t contact anyone in the outside world. It was hopeless, and I was stuck.
“Of course, you fucker,” I snarled. “Of course. You’ve taken it all away. I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?” I knelt on the floor, heat prickling behind my eyes. The tears came, hot and fast. I sobbed and fell to the floor, resting my face against the soft oriental rug.
I wondered if Red would think of me before he died, if he would see my face for even a moment. Because if my father wanted him to die, he would. I could see it in my father’s eyes. He was hell bent on killing the man. The man who knew too much. The man who had kept his secrets for so long.
The man I might never see again.
Red
“As fast as you can get there, Federico,” I muttered. I barely fit in the passenger’s side of Freddy’s Civic, but it’d have to do. The Aston was somewhere out in the desert, and the two goons were probably still with it, wondering if they could get it to work. Freddy pulled out of the garage and rolled toward the hills. Toward Gabi.
I closed my eyes and thought of her, that beautiful woman. She’d crept into my life and taken me by surprise. And now, how would I live without her? I had one opportunity to get this all right, to prove to her that I was worthy of the love she’d bestowed on me, a washed up criminal.
“Take it around back, Freddy,” I said. My body was strung tight as a cord, stretched almost to breaking. I wasn’t risking only my life by going back to Art now. I was risking Gabi’s too—but it was the only way to save her, the only way to make sure she was truly okay. If Art kept hold of her, he’d use her up or hurt her. I leaned down in the car, folding my body almost in half, trying to hide from the prying eyes of Art and his loyal followers. I closed my eyes and thought of Rose, her body lifeless and bloody that night. I’d helped him cover up the crime, and I’d committed many more, trying to protect myself.
I wouldn’t let Gabi end up the same way. She wouldn’t fall victim the same way her mother did. She was stronger, more invested in the world... and she deserved to become the woman she was meant to be.
To pull this off, I couldn’t let Art see me. I couldn’t let him hear me in the house, couldn’t let him get wind of my continued existence.
“We here, Red.” Federico looked over at me and motioned for me to get my ass up and out of the car. I opened the door and slipped out, crouching down and running for the back entrance of the house. Freddy stepped out of the car and walked behind me, giving me a curt nod. He walked in the back entrance before me, his gun slung casually on his hip. I touched my own gun, holstered at my hip. I gulped. I’d gone into situations like this a thousand times for Art, but I’d never stood up to the man who had brought me across the country to Los Angeles. If it weren’t for him, I’d be locked up... or far worse.
“Think of Gabi,” I whispered to myself. There was nothing else to concentrate on, only her beautiful face. I listened for the signal from Freddy, clearing my mind of all the distracting bullshit I couldn’t let get to me. I heard the knock on Art’s office door, and I crept inside. The quintessential California estate. It should have been a beautiful home, full of happiness and family. But instead, it housed an evil, spiteful man who denied his family, the very people who shared his name. Dust floated in the late morning light, settling on the polished hardwoods and the bright oriental rugs that Art favored. I listened intently, crouching by the back stairs. Gabriella was up there, in the room at the top of the stairs, tied up and helpless. It took all of my concentration to stay where I was, not to rush up and kick down the door to her room, take her into my arms and never let her go. After a moment had passed, I heard the harsh tones of Freddy’s Boston accent.
“Yep, took care of him, boss. Everything should be fine. Yep, called in the cleaner to take the body out to the desert. Clean as a whistle...” Freddy’s voice trailed off, and I heard Art talking, though I couldn’t quite make out the words.
“Nah, man,” said Freddy. “As long as you get the paperwork in order to make it look like he disappeared, the accounts will go over to you. You’re a co-signer. With him out of the picture, you’ll get full access.” Art made a satisfied sound. Freddy walked into the hall and closed the door to Art’s office. I thought of the little fucker, his grubby hands on my hard-earned cash, the money I’d saved and invested over twelve years. I’d only been eighteen when Art had hired me, and he’d co-signed on each account. I was too young and stupid to know what he was doing back then, and I’d been too afraid of him to take care of it in the years since. Besides, there was nothing to live for really, nothing to spend my money on.
Freddy looked both ways down the hall and nodded firmly in my direction. He put his hand to his gun and stood silently outside of Art’s office. That’s where Freddy spent most of his days anyway. Even if the boss left the office for whatever reason, he wouldn’t realize that anything was amiss.
Taking a deep breath, I climbed the stairs, trying to avoid the spots I knew would creak. At the upstairs landing, I crept across the hallway to Gabriella’s room and lifted my hand above the doorframe to check for the key that Art kept above the doors to each of his rooms.
“Fuck,” I sighed. It wasn’t there, and I couldn’t alert Gabriella to my presence, or I would risk making her scream. I felt in my pocket and felt the bobby pin that Gabriella had left behind at my house. “Goddamn,” I muttered, slipping the pin into the lock and jiggling it slightly. I heard faint movements downstairs, and the adrenaline coursed through my veins, sweat beading on my forehead. I moved the bobby pin in just a little further and felt something give. Gently I opened the door and scanned the room for Gabriella.
She was sitting, crouched by the window, her hands still tied.
“Red,” she muttered, looking up at me. “What are you doing?” Her voice came out in a harsh whisper. “He’ll kill you! He will! Get the hell out of here... I can take care of myself...” She choked back a sob and looked down at the floor. Unable to restrain myself, I stumbled across the floor and gathered her into my arms. I tugged and tore at the restraints, noting the coldness in her fingers—the blood wasn’t flowing like it should, and soon, her hands would be damaged. I took my knife out of my pocket and cut away the ties. The ropes cut in two and fell away. Her skin was cut and bruised where the restraints had eaten into her flesh. But tentatively, slowly, she moved her fingers.
I took her hands in mine. “Are you okay
?” I could almost feel the blood rushing back to her hands, the warmth flowing back in.
She nodded and threw her arms around me. I kissed her forehead and cradled her in my arms, drawing her closer and holding her as tight as I ever held anyone.
“How the hell did you get away from that guy?”
“He’s with the FBI and has been working with the LAPD for the past three years,” I whispered. “He’ll get us out of this. Or I pray to fucking God he will. He has people coming to arrest Art, and I’m going to get you the hell out of here, as far away as possible.”
“But how... how do we get out without him knowing?”
“Freddy’s got the door. Come on, the sooner the better, Gabi.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her up, motioning for her to be quiet. She tiptoed behind me, still holding on to my hand. We started down the stairs, going one step at a time. I could hear Gabi’s labored breathing behind me, rapid and increasing. I wanted to turn to her, to hold her. But there was no time, no space to comfort her. We slipped down the next two steps, and she stumbled. The stair creaked, protesting her misstep. And we stood, quiet, waiting. There were no sounds in the hallway, but I couldn’t see any sign of Freddy, not from where I stood. I tugged on Gabriella’s hand and pulled her down another stair. I heard her breathing increase again, but she followed, stepping slowly.
One stair from the bottom, and the hallway was quiet.
I turned to her and pulled her into a silent kiss. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this woman. Here I was, risking everything. I didn’t care about myself anymore. There was something bigger, something more to life than saving my own ass over and over again. There was this beautiful woman, someone better than me. Someone who made me a better man.
I gripped her hand and we stepped down into the foyer. The hallway was empty, Freddy nowhere in sight. My pulse increased, my body on high alert.
Something isn’t right.
Acting on instinct, I pulled Gabriella down the hall and threw open the back door. The sunlight blinded me for a moment and we both closed our eyes.
I smiled. We were free. But then there was a point of cool metal pushed against my temple.
And from the angle, it was someone a damn lot shorter holding the gun.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gabriella
When we stepped outside, I nearly rejoiced with freedom. After being trapped and moved around so many times, I’d be on my way soon. And I could figure out what Red and I would do. If I could convince him to run with me... We’d be safe. The bright sunlight cascaded across the patio, reflecting off the smooth surface of the lap pool that my father never used. I turned to Red and pulled his hand hard, trying to get him to move toward Freddy’s car.
“Come on,” I beckoned. But slightly behind him was a much shorter shadow, a shadow I recognized immediately. My father. And he was holding a gun to Red’s temple, the surface pressed firm against that lovely, freckled skin.
“No,” I shouted. “No! You can’t! You can’t! This isn’t fair!”
I gasped and blinked my eyes, trying to adjust my vision to the bright sunlight of the Los Angeles day, trying to make the vision of my father disappear. But I couldn’t make him leave my sight—he was just as real as Red, the man who had risked his life, his reputation, his everything. All to save me. Red had cut me free, and he’d saved me. We were going to be okay. We’d see the end of this mess together. But no.
“Life isn’t fair, princess,” my father said, licking his lips, a reptilian gesture. “I’m so sorry that I have your violent little boyfriend in this position, but you see, I never thought you’d like such a man. I’d love it if you’d done your job and gotten together with that nice Hollywood producer. He would have helped you so much, maybe even changed your mind about your career. But no. Sorry, my darling, but this guy right here, he knows too much for his own good, and he’s tried to cross me one too many times.” My father wiggled the gun against Red’s temple.
Though the expression on Red’s face was as cool and collected as ever, I could see beads of sweat forming right at his hairline. He’d thought we were free too. But instead of freedom, we’d stepped outside into a nightmare.
“Red,” I whispered.
“Gabi, get on out of here. Go back inside. You don’t want to see this.”
“Oh is that right?” Art chuckled. “You’re the one, Red, the one who put her in such a miserable situation. And once I’m rid of you, I’ll be able to get on with my damn life, you Irish son of a bitch.”
Red growled in response. “Think again, you piece of shit,” Red said through gritted teeth. “I’ve kept the evidence all these years. I was too scared of what you might do to me, too scared of dying, too scared of getting locked up.” He looked at me, those blue eyes searing into my soul. I wanted to reach my hand out to his, wanted to take him into my arms and tell him everything would be fine. But I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fine, not with my father in this position. And my life, it seemed, wouldn’t be worth living if my father pulled that trigger.
“You’ll never squeal, Red. And you ain’t got any evidence. You were the only witness.”
“Yeah, I was, you sick shit. But I have part of her dress. The green dress.”
“Watch your mouth, boy,” Art said. My father’s eyes darted to mine.
“Oh you think I don’t know what you did? You think I hadn’t figured out through all of this that you beat my mother to death? Red’s got evidence, and you’ll be put away for the rest of your life. Just put the gun down, Dad, and you might not get the death penalty. Killing another person? In cold blood? On the day of your arrest?” My father looked flustered, the orb of his head turning bright pink.
“Gabi, sweetheart, this is a misunderstanding, ain’t it? I didn’t do anything, and I don’t know what this man’s been telling you...”
“Those men from the cartel,” I said, my voice hoarse and angry, “They were the ones who gave me the final hint. I’d suspected it for years.” Red raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. My father’s eyes darted all over the place. He wasn’t ready to accept that he was finished. I kept my gaze glued to the gun, to the hand that was holding it. He had started to shake, tremors overtaking his wrist. He was scared.
Good, fucking good. You should be scared.
I heard sirens coming down the long, winding road to my father’s manor. The end was coming soon, and Art would be out of my life for good. All I had to do was get my shit together and keep him from hurting the only man who had ever been any good in my damn life. Red.
“And here they are, Art,” I said. “That’s right. Your stupid goon? Freddy? He’s been working with them all along.”
“Oh, Freddy? He’s bleeding out on the floor of my office, sweetheart,” my father said, tightening his grip on the gun and thrusting it in Red’s temple. “And I’m about to take care of this idiot too. If Freddy’s the only one who’s got that evidence, then he’s done for. Alls I gotta do is take care of this piece of shit and get the fabric off Freddy’s corpse. Honey, turn away. Daddy’s gotta take care of this business.” The rage boiled inside of me. I had never liked the look of Freddy, but he’d helped us when no one else would.
“FBI’s already got the evidence,” said Red, his body icily still. Art looked away for one moment, his gaze turning toward the sounds of the cop cars. I took my chance and put both hands on my father’s arms, strength and anger meeting in my body, a mighty rush of adrenaline taking me over and making me into a beast. I took a deep breath and kneed my father as hard as I could in the balls. His face contorted in pain, Art released the gun, and it clanked down on the manicured stone patio.
“Fucking bitch,” he groaned, scrambling for the gun. Red was quicker though, like lightning. He grabbed the gun my father had held and emptied its cartridge. Red sneered and kicked my father in the gut. He pulled his own gun and trained it on my father. Red pulled me close in a side embrace, his eyes never leaving my father’s miserable face.
“You’re done, Art. Whether or not you got Freddy, the FBI’s got a huge fucking file on everything you’ve done. And Freddy’s got that piece of fabric already sent off to a lab. It’ll show your blood, mixed with your wife’s, you nasty, dirty piece of shit. Drug a woman and beat her to death. Make me do your dirty work and clean it all up. Well, I was smart enough to take a souvenir. I knew there would come a day that I’d be able to stand up to you, and I needed that last card in my deck.”
