by Lou Harper
Sam put a hand on Jay’s shoulder to maneuver him to the truck. Jay shook it off.
“Stop pushing me!” he snapped. “Don’t worry, I won’t make a scene. God forbid you had to explain to the neighbors why you had a spat with your ‘nephew’.”
All the way to the bus stop, Jay kept staring at Sam, willing him to say something, just fucking anything, but Sam stared straight ahead, jaws clenched, a white-knuckled death grip on the steering wheel. The bus was a couple of minutes late, and it was obvious from Sam’s anxious pacing around that he couldn’t wait to get Jay out of his hair.
As the bus finally pulled up, Sam took out a roll of dollar bills and shoved it into Jay’s hand.
“The bus’ll take you to Butte. Get on a plane, fly to Seattle. Don’t call, don’t write. I won’t answer.”
Sam looked Jay in the eye at last, and Jay thought there was something else in his eyes, behind the hardness, but that was probably just wishful thinking. For a moment Sam swayed, as if he’d lean in for a kiss, but then he just stepped back and nodded. Jay wanted to throw the money back into Sam’s face, but that would’ve been a gesture befitting lovers. They weren’t that, only fuck buddies. And anyway, he’d need the cash till he found himself a sugar daddy. Someone strictly business this time.
Jay shuffled onto the half-empty bus without a backward glance, and found himself a seat. He was dismayed to realize how much he wanted to bawl. He had no reason for it, he kept reminding himself. This thing with Sam had always been temporary, and if it ended a little more abruptly than he’d expected, that was just a minor hiccup. It wasn’t as if he’d been planning to settle down and play house with a closet case, right? There was absolutely no fucking reason why he should feel so betrayed. Too bad that none of the reasoning helped to undo the knot in his stomach, or the cold numbness that filled his chest.
As the bus rolled past fields and more fields, Jay stared blindly at the small flat TV screen up front. It was showing the news, sound muted, narrated by closed captioning instead. Jay’s eyes tracked the movements on-screen, but his brain wasn’t processing them. At least not till a familiar face came into view.
“…Joey Gianco with connection to the recent rash of murders the Chicago PD believes to be linked to organized crime.”
On the screen a man in his thirties was shown exiting a building. He wore the pouty expression of a spoiled child, but the one who attracted Jay’s attention was the man walking by his side. Jay didn’t think he’d ever forget those dead eyes. They belonged to the creepy man who’d stopped by the diner for a coffee not long ago. Jay’s brain kicked into overdrive. Something was way off. He remembered Sam watching the news before going all apeshit. There had to be a connection, but how? Sam couldn’t have known that the dead-eye guy had stopped by the diner. None of it made any sense, but one thing was for sure—Jay had to get back to Sam, because Sam had been lying, and this whole thing was fucked up as hell.
Jay considered simply asking to be let off the bus, but for expediency’s sake he went straight to Plan B and made a scene that got him thrown off. The bus driver was probably supposed to call the cops, and who knows what, but under pressure from the grumbling, unhappy passengers he was happy to unceremoniously leave Jay at the side of the road and speed off. Jay nearly hurled himself into the path of the first car coming from the opposite direction.
The driver—a paunchy, middle-aged, balding man with glasses—stared at Jay, appearing utterly dumbfounded as he hastily explained how essential it was that the man take him to Coldwater as fast as possible. After a very long moment of stunned silence, the man motioned Jay to get in and they were on their way.
“Can you go faster?” Jay urged the man.
If the guy was put out, he hid it well.
“I’m Steve,” he introduced himself. “So what’s the big hurry?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m Jay. I…” Jay scrambled around for the right thing to say. The man was unfamiliar, but he could be a friend or relative to someone in Coldwater. It was best if Jay stuck to his cover story. “I was gonna run away, but changed my mind. I have to get back before my uncle notices I’m gone or he’ll blow a gasket.” There. That sounded reasonable.
“Is he violent? Should we call the police?”
“No! No, no. He’s cool, he’s just worried about me.”
It was a short drive but it felt much longer. Jay wanted to crawl out of his skin, fielding his ride’s well-meaning inquiries. At last they arrived, and Jay practically jumped out of the still-moving car after assuring Steve for one last time that yes, he was fine, everything would be okay.
Jay stepped inside the front door to find himself seized and slammed into the wall. Then, just as quick, Sam released him and spun him around.
“What the fuck!” Sam yelled.
He didn’t look pleased to see Jay. If anything, he looked shocked and angry.
“What part of ‘get on the fucking bus and stay away’ didn’t you understand?”
“I saw him, that guy from the news, he came to the diner,” Jay said in one big rush.
“What guy?”
“The one with the eyes. Wait, I’ll show you.” Jay rushed over to the dining room where the laptop sat on the table in its usual place. A quick news search found him the picture that had gotten his attention on the bus. He pointed at the man in the background. “Him!”
“In the diner? When?” Sam asked, voice tight as a rubber band ready to snap.
Jay thought back. “Two weeks ago, Tuesday. The day when the delivery was late, and you were out back dealing with it.”
Sam looked stunned.
“That doesn’t make any sense. If Nicky knew, he wouldn’t wait two weeks.”
“Who’s Nicky?”
“The man you saw. If he knew I was here, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
For a minute Sam gave the picture of a man taking great efforts to control his agitation. Jay looked on openmouthed as willpower won, and a steely, purposeful calm took over.
“Okay. Sunshine, we’re going on a trip. You have five minutes to pack whatever you need.”
The instinct of self-preservation prevented Jay from pointing out that he was already packed.
“Grab the laptop,” Sam added on the way to his own room.
Jay packed the laptop and the charger into the case and headed after Sam. There was a detached garage at the end of the backyard that opened onto the alley. He found Sam there affixing license plates to a car Jay had never seen before. Come to think of it, he’d never been to the garage before. Sam had always parked the truck up front. Jay’s survival instincts only took him so far—he had to ask.
“Let me get this straight, we’re on the run in a Honda Civic?” he asked.
“What were you expecting—an Aston Martin?”
“At least a Dodge Challenger.”
“That wouldn’t be very practical, Sunshine. We need to blend in, disappear. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” Then Jay remembered the one thing he’d forgotten. “No. Just one thing. Won’t be a minute.” He dropped his bags and ran back into the house.
The leather jacket hung on the hook by the door where he last left it. Jay picked it up and was heading back out when the door opened behind him. He spun around and found himself face-to-face with middle-aged busybody Steve. He looked different; he wore a brown suit jacket that seemed too warm for the weather.
“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I knocked but nobody answered,” Steve explained.
“Everything’s hunky-dory. Sam didn’t even notice I’ve been gone. Really. You can go.”
Jay tried to herd the well-meaning meddler out the door without physically pushing him, but the man seemed to be bolted to the floor. A car engine revved up in the back, and instantly Jay stopped giving a shit about Steve. The guy could find his own way out. Jay turned to leave, but at that moment a pair of startlingly determined arms grabbed him around the neck and chest.
“You’l
l be better off if you come quietly, trust me,” Steve hissed into Jay’s ear and pulled him toward the open door. He didn’t sound as if he meant well at all.
Jay tried to plant his feet, but the arms just got tighter around him. Steve was on the flabby side but he had a couple inches and quite a few pounds on Jay. There was something hard pushing against Jay’s left shoulder blade, sandwiched between them. He had only seen shoulder holsters in films and TV shows, but he was certain that’s what it was. Suddenly Jay realized what he needed to do. He put one hand on the arm around his neck, reached back with the other and grabbed the scruff of the man’s shirt. Jay shifted his position so that one of his feet was between Steve’s feet, the other outside. He bent his knees, lowering his center of gravity. Swiftly he pushed his hips up, twisted and pulled, and managed to throw the other man over his shoulder. It was one of the most basic Judo moves, the first he learned from Bill, and despite being poorly executed, it worked. Steve’s soft bulk landed on the hardwood floor with a heavy thud.
Jay nearly stumbled after him, but fortunately Sam burst into the room at that moment. Sam was instantly on top of the man, twisting his arms back, pressing him into the floor.
“Who the fuck are you?” Sam growled.
“Steven Rapalski. I gave your nephew a ride. I just came in to make sure everything was fine.”
Jay wasn’t buying the Good Samaritan act anymore. “I think he has a gun.”
“Sunshine, bring me some rope.”
Jay brought a good length of red nylon cord back from the bedroom a few seconds later. Sam first hogtied Steve then searched him. Jay was right—the man had a holster and a gun under his jacket. Sam took it. He also went through the man’s wallet.
“So who is he?” Jay asked.
“Steven Rapalski. Private investigator.”
Sam grabbed Steve hard around the neck, not quite choking him, but close. “Who do you work for, Steve?”
“Fuck you!” Steve snarled through gritted teeth.
Sam let him go, and instead picked up the man’s phone. Jay watched Sam going through the call records and calling back the last number. Seconds ticked by while he held the phone to his ear. The voice he heard on the other end must not have been to his liking because he hurled the phone across the room so abruptly that it made Jay jump. It hit the wall so hard that it shattered into pieces of plastic and metal on impact.
The really chilling part though was the dead-calm tone of Sam’s voice. “Car. Now.”
Chapter Seven
NT: You lost him.
SR: He was already spooked. That thing in Chicago hit the national news. That was your fuckup.
NT: You tell that to the boss.
SR: No thanks.
They drove in silence for a long while, and that was just fine with Sam. He had a lot to think about, and his main concern was to get as far from Coldwater as possible, as fast as possible.
Jay broke the silence at last. “Are you pissed at me?”
“No. Why do you think so?”
“You called me Sunshine. Three times.”
“Okay, fine. You shouldn’t have come back.”
“If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t know that guy was in the diner.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. I was leaving anyway.”
The flash of hurt in Jay’s eyes was so sharp and clear that it would’ve sliced through a hide thicker than Sam’s. Jay turned and stared out the window.
“Tiger.”
No reply.
Sam tried again. “It’s not because I don’t like you, okay? But if you’d listened to me you’d be on a plane to Seattle now, and safe.”
“And I’d never see you again, would I?”
“That’d be for the best.”
“For whom?”
“You.”
Jay pressed his lips together into a thin, stubborn line. It was pointless, Sam knew. Jay was too damn young and inexperienced to get it. Sam wanted Jay to stay that way. Sending him away was the responsible thing to do, but that wasn’t an option anymore. If Nicky found out about Sam, he knew about Jay too. Dropping Jay off wasn’t a safe option. Neither was keeping Jay with him, but he had to till he figured out a solution.
“Who was the man on the detective’s phone?” Jay asked.
“Nicky Torino.”
“The man with the dead eyes?”
“Dead eyes? Good one, Tiger. Yeah, that’s him.”
“Who’s he?”
“A stone-cold killer.”
“And he’s after you?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Long story.”
Jay looked daggers at him. “What’s gonna happen to the diner?”
“Fuck the diner.”
“Fine with me. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
Well, the kid had a right to know, since he was suddenly in the middle of it, and it wasn’t as if Sam keeping his secrets buried was going to help keep either of them safe now. They were long past that.
“Nicky Torino and I used to work together. Then I did something to piss off our boss bad enough for him to want me dead, and Nicky’s plenty willing to do it for him. I’ll tell you the whole fucking story tomorrow, but now I need to concentrate on getting us as far from Montana as possible.”
“You’re a mobster?” Jay asked, flabbergasted.
“Was. Try to get some sleep. We’ll be on the road all night.”
Jay just stared at him for a while, but eventually leaned his seat back and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was asleep.
The sun had just set when they’d left Coldwater and soon the landscape was wrapped in darkness. Sam started weighing the situation while driving east on the freeway. The private dick had talked to Nicky minutes before he came into the house. So Nicky knew where they were, but he wouldn’t get to Coldwater before morning, perhaps even later. It wasn’t likely Nicky had people in Montana, other than Rapalski, and the PI wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. That meant if he and Jay drove all night they’d be out of immediate danger. After that they’d just have to keep going and find a place to lie low. Nicky or the private detective wouldn’t easily find them again. Unless he did something really stupid, like going back to Chicago. It wasn’t as if they had resources like the FBI. Speaking of which, why the fuck wasn’t Agent Jones answering his phone? That bothered him a whole lot.
He kept driving till Buffalo. There he stopped for gas, coffee and gas-station food, which they scarfed down in the car. He made Jay take over the wheel while he caught a few winks himself.
“Drive east on the I-90 and wake me when we get to Rapid City. Stay under the speed limit. We don’t need the cops pulling us over,” he said before closing his eyes.
He didn’t sleep well. Vince was haunting his dreams, staring at him with dull, lifeless eyes. And sometimes they weren’t Vince’s brown eyes but Jay’s blue ones. He woke with a jolt, realizing they had stopped moving, and found Jay staring at him. He needed to get a fucking grip.
“We’re in Rapid City,” Jay said.
Sam surveyed the empty gas station. It looked exactly like any other station of that particular chain anywhere else in the country. He sent Jay into the store to prepay for the gas. Everything would be cash from here on out. Walking away from the pumps, Sam pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jones again. Still no answer. He took the SIM card out and threw the phone into the trash. Tomorrow he’d have to buy a couple of disposables. He spotted a pay phone and it gave him an idea. To his surprise, the phone actually worked. He dialed a number he knew by heart, despite not having used in years. A groggy voice replied at the third ring.
“Doctor Glass.”
“Adam, it’s me. Did I wake you?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. “Yes, but it’s okay—I’m on call anyway. What’s wrong?”
Sam wasn’t taken aback at Adam assuming that a call from his little brother meant bad news. It was true after all
.
“They found me.”
“Are you—”
“Got away, but it was close. I need to keep moving.”
“On your own?” The sleepiness was already gone from Adam’s voice.
“Yeah.”
“Is that wise?”
That was so Adam, putting his trust in law and order like the good citizen he was. Sam only trusted himself, and maybe a select few people. Maybe. That’s probably because, unlike Adam, he was not such a good citizen.
“I don’t know how they found me. It’s safer this way,” Sam explained. His brother knew the score.
“What are you gonna do?” Adam asked.
“Get lost again.”
“If you come to Boston I can help.”
“No you can’t. And you know I won’t do that. It would be best if you went on a vacation yourself. Leave the country for a while.”
“I’m not gonna run.”
That was very Adam too. Stubborn. And still believing his righteousness would protect him. Sam hoped for both their sakes that Adam was right.
“It’s not safe. They hit a civilian just to send me a message. I didn’t think Big Sal would do something like that.” Sam had known his warnings to Adam would be in vain, but he had to make them anyway.
“What do you know?” Adam asked.
“Just what I saw on the news last night.”
Sam kept his back to the wall and kept scanning the gas station and the streets beyond. Not many people around at 2 a.m. at least. Through the glass he could see into the store. There was a sleepy-looking attendant behind the counter. Jay was out of sight, in the bathroom probably. Sam had one ear cocked for sounds that didn’t belong, the other for Adam on the phone.
“Joey’s out of prison. The lawyers finagled something,” Adam said.
“I got that much.”
“Sal’s dying. Cancer. Doesn’t have long.”
That was news. Bad news.
“How do you know that?” Sam asked, while keeping an eye on the pickup pulling up to a pump. A man in a flannel shirt got out and started filling it up.
“I still have friends in Chicago.”
