Run With Me

by Shorter, L. A.

  I find it hard to stomach it, but all I do is nod again in agreement. He smiles faintly, but he's got to know I don't believe him. He's purely doing this to keep me placated while he draws Colt in. That's all I can think of. That's all this charade can be. And when he's used me as bait, when he's caught Colt on the line, it's curtains for the both of us. And Michael Carmine wins again.

  “So, Kitty, let's talk, shall we? Tell me, what exactly did you see that night outside the bar?”

  I'd rather not answer, not talk at all. But I suppose I might as well be honest. Whatever I say won't change anything. Like lying about seeing him shoot that man. Is he going to let me go if I tell him that I saw nothing? He'd like me to believe that he will, but I know he won't. He just wants to know exactly what I saw. He's meticulous like that.

  “I saw you shoot a man dead,” I say, more coldly than I mean to.

  Carmine's face remains neutral. This is no news to him. “And do you know who that man was?” He arches his eyebrows up as he speaks, peering at me questioningly, almost condescendingly. As if I'm stupid to think that shooting a man is always a bad thing. That the world is that black and white.

  I shake my head. “Does it matter?” I ask.

  “Does it matter?” he repeats. “Of course it matters. Some people deserve death Miss Munroe. You must know that yourself?”

  Hell yes some people deserve death. I'm in a room with two of them right now. Maybe that's what he means.

  “And am I one of them?” I ask quickly, before I can bite my tongue. “Did I deserve to die just for witnessing a murder?”

  Carmine's voice hardens slightly when he next speaks, a scowl appearing briefly on his face before melting back into a forced smile. “I already told you, this entire situation is a mess. But sometimes even innocent people, such as yourself, get caught in the crossfire.”

  I can see the facade slipping now. That was pretty much an admission that he'd targeted me to be killed from the start.

  He checks himself, though, before speaking again. “The man wasn't a good man, Kitty. He'd evaded me for years until I caught up with him. What you saw was retribution. It was karma.”

  Yeah, retribution and karma I get. There's a lot of that going around.

  “OK,” I say bluntly.

  Frankly, I could care less who the man was and why Carmine killed him. I doubt there are too many innocent people in his world. So why should I care that he killed some guy who deserved it. It's got nothing to do with me and, frankly, hearing about it doesn't change the fact that I witnessed a murder and, therefore, am collateral damage. One of those 'caught in the crossfire' as he put it. I wish he'd just do it already and stop toying with me. I'll turn round and face the wall, Rugger can pull the trigger and finish me off quick. The look on his face suggests he'd like nothing more. Quick, easy, and we can all go home.

  Carmine continues to stare at me for a few moments, as if thinking of letting loose some more home truths. He might, but is distracted by a ringing in his jacket pocket. He reaches in casually and pulls the phone to his eye line, a slight frown appearing on his face as he looks at the caller.

  “Michael Carmine,” he says, answering. Now his eyes change quickly to one of pleasure, of victory. He glances at Rugger, who gives a knowing nod, and then steps from the room. Rugger moves after him and shuts the door, leaving me alone once again.

  The room is pretty well sound-proofed, but I can hear the muffled voice of Carmine beyond the door. I rise from the bed and move forward, a curiosity building within me. When I reach the door I gently press my ear against it and Carmine's voice grows louder. Still muffled, but louder.

  It's hard to decipher his words, but his tone remains calm. It always is. I hear him speak and go silent for a minute or two, then Rugger's voice joins his. I press harder against the door, trying to interpret the clouded sounds on the other side of the wood.

  But nothing is forthcoming. Nothing but a single word. A single name.

  Colt.

  Chapter 19 - Colt

  Colt

  I spend the first hour after sunrise scoping out my meeting point with Carmine. The bridge where we're planning to meet is surrounded by a smattering of park grounds, but beyond are buildings, some tall, some short. Any one would make a good location for a sniper.

  I walk around the area, making mental notes of where he might position his men. He said he'd come alone, but I know that's not true. Whether he has guns on me or not, he'll certainly have a few heavies prowling the area and keeping an eye on us. So this is where I draw an advantage. I've been here since before the sun came up and am privy to the movement of every person in the area. It's still only 7AM and the morning rush for work is yet to begin. So no relentless troupes of suits marching across the bridge and down the street. No teeming roads filled with honking taxis and impatient buses. No. It's quiet still, and no movement escapes my eyes as I lie in wait on the roof of a building a few hundred feet from the bridge.

  It was only a few hours ago that I made the call to Carmine. He told me he had Kitty and that he wanted to talk. It was exactly what I expected because, well, what else would he say? Even if Kitty was already dead he'd have told me he had her to lure me in. To get me out into the open so that he could finish the job once and for all.

  There are a couple of men I see who look suspicious. They pull up together in a car down the street on the far side of the bridge and step out. It's the way they walk. As if they're attempting to be casual. I can spot a fake like that a mile off.

  I pull out a pair of binoculars and notice the distinct shape of a gun holster beneath each of their jackets. Not particularly well concealed. They walk in opposite directions, one towards a bench in the park, and the other towards a smaller bridge further down the road. A few minutes later, he's crossed over and is coming back towards my arranged meeting point. To anyone else, perhaps they'd seem normal. To me, they stick out like a sore thumb.

  So that's two, I think to myself.

  I continue to search the surrounding buildings, checking for the glint of a sniper's sight in the early morning sunlight. But there's nothing. The rooftops look clear as the time ticks towards 7.30AM and, just at the prescribed moment, Carmine turns up.

  A black sedan pulls up and he steps out, garbed in black from head to toe. He glances from left to right as he steps towards the bridge, his movements as cool and casual and precise as ever. I keep one eye on him and another on the car, which remains parked in place, the driver waiting behind the wheel. In the park, the two men who arrived before continue to loiter and look incredibly unnatural.

  The phone in my pocket vibrates and I lift it to my ear. My eyes turn back to Carmine and I watch as he speaks to me from down on the bridge.

  “Colt, I can't see you. Tell me you're near.”

  “I thought you were coming alone,” I say.

  I see him shuffle slightly and do a full 360. “Well, all except my driver, yes. Where are you?”

  “I'm close. Lose the two men in the park first.”

  I shut the phone off before he can deny it or think up an excuse. Then he makes another call from a separate phone and, within a few moments, I see the two men hastily withdraw from the park and drive back off up the road. Then he lifts his shoulders and raises his arms up to the heavens, twisting on the spot as if to say, 'are you happy now?' I do one further check of the buildings around me and the park below before making my way down from the roof and towards the bridge.

  I see him smile as I arrive. It's not genuine, but nothing with him is. I maintain a neutral expression and continue towards him. When I get within a few feet, I continue, walking past him and then turning back around. He looks confused but my intentions don't require an explanation. I simply did it to ensure that I could keep his car in my eye line over his shoulder as we speak. Whoever it is behind the wheel, I don't want my back to them.

  I let him speak first, and he does as soon as I've turned back to look at him. “You look tired,” is the fir
st thing he says. I don't respond. I'm not here for small talk.

  “I guess it's been a long week for you Colt, and for that I'm sorry. None of this played out like it was supposed to...”

  “Where's the girl,” I say, cutting him off. I have no time for his explanations, his lies. Nothing that comes out of his mouth can be trusted.

  “She's safe,” he says.

  “Unhurt?” I ask quickly.

  He nods his response.

  We look at each other a moment, trying to feel the other out. His eyes lack their usual steel and indifference. They almost look regretful. Not feigned or put on this time, but genuine.

  “I have an offer to make you Colt. I'm afraid all of this has forced my hand. It's put me in a spot I never wanted to end up in.”

  A bad feeling begins to brew in the pit of my stomach. “Go on,” I say.

  “I'd let the girl go ordinarily. Perhaps I was rash before in thinking she'd speak of what she saw. But now with everything that's happened, I'm afraid I have no choice.”

  “You're going to kill her,” I offer.

  He nods, slowly. “I have to Colt. To protect my interests. This has become too big now. It's escalated beyond my control with the police getting involved...”

  “Your interests,” I say quietly. “So what's the offer Michael. What exactly can you offer that will be of any interest to me. What can you possibly say that will compel me to step back and let you kill another innocent person.” My hand is suddenly clutching at the pistol behind my jacket. My finger shaking on the trigger. It takes everything I have to not pull it out and send a bullet into his brain. But if I do that, I know it will seal Kitty's fate.

  His reaction isn't in line with his words. He drops his eyes, his expression lost of its usual cruelty, and yet speaks words that deliver the most potent of threats. “Your life,” he says. “You can either share her fate or walk away. It's the only offer I can give.”

  “There are others, but you're too much of a coward to even consider them,” I bite, after a short silence. “That girl is innocent. She's the only innocent one involved in all of this. You, me, we're all guilty. And yet here we are, deliberating over her death. And all because she witnessed you murdering someone. No, Michael, there are other options here. But a man like you is blind to them.”

  I'm trying to keep a lid on my emotions right now, but it's hard. I continue to glance over his shoulder, keeping a check on the car. I know the man inside is watching me, monitoring my facial expressions and body language. If he thinks his boss is under threat, if he sees me pull out my weapon, he'll spring into action. Behind that glass, he might already have his gun trained on me. The thought forces me to shuffle slightly to my left, blocking my body with Carmine's.

  Carmine nods, his eyes dropping again. His regret seems real, but it's irrelevant if he doesn't act upon it. An empty regret, completely meaningless and transient. It's just another lure. One to make me consider his proposal. But that's something I'd never do.

  “So you'll kill me if I kill Kitty,” Carmine says ruefully. “Or maybe you'll try to kill me and I'll kill you. So she dies, and one of us, maybe both of us, die as well. What's the sense in that Colt?”

  “Because it's right,” I say. “You can't expect to just carry on as if nothing's happened. Let the girl go, Michael, and I'll make sure she's safe, that she won't speak to the police about what she saw.”

  “And her friend? Her aunt and uncle? What will she say about their deaths, I wonder. Is she just going to live with all of that?” He begins shaking his head. “No Colt. As soon as I let her go, you'll come after me anyway. You'll do it for her, and for yourself. I know you. You don't trust anyone. And with me still around, even with my word, you'll always be worried that I'll be around the next corner.”

  The man's seen straight through me. I guess he knows me well, with that file he's accumulated on me. He knows how I tick and yes, for all I say now, I'll never feel safe for Kitty or myself with him still in the picture. There are no pacts between men like us that count for anything. His word isn't written in stone, it's written in sand. And as soon as the tide changes, it'll wash away.

  I have nothing left to say. I see there will be no changing his mind, so my own thoughts turn to what I have to do next. I begin to turn away, to walk back through the growing crowd away from him. But his words stop me short in my tracks.

  “Don't you want to ask me about the file?” he calls.

  I turn back and see the look on his face. It's not smug, not quite, but his composure has returned. He stares at me, back in control, giving a look that tells me there's more to this, that he holds cards I wasn't aware of.

  “You saw the file I have on you, didn't you?”

  I quickly question in my head how he knows. Does he have a secret camera in there that I didn't see? Was he watching me the entire time as I snooped around his office? Or is it an assumption? He knows me well enough to assume I'd have looked through the filing cabinet. That I'd have come across my name and scoured the file out of curiosity and suspicion.

  Now the file is back at the front of my mind. Ever since I saw the note on the door and made the call I've thought of nothing but getting Kitty back. But now that file is flooding back in. The details of my life, of my family's death. The hand scribbled note...

  I creep closer to Carmine again so that my low voice can be heard among the din. “I saw the file,” I say, waiting for an explanation.

  “You must think it's strange,” he continues, “that I have such a file on you Colt.”

  I shake my head. “You keep files on anyone you are affiliated with. I wasn't surprised to find myself in there.”

  “But one so extensive? Don't you wonder why I've been keeping such a close eye on you?”

  I half consider turning away again. Why know? What's the point if I'm going to kill the man. Is this just another ploy? Is he going to deliver another lie to throw me off?

  But I don't turn. I stand rooted to the spot, waiting for him to continue. I can see him lapping up my anticipation, carefully choosing his next words. When he delivers them, I feel an immediate pang in the gut. It's one I always feel whenever I think of either of them.

  “I knew your wife,” he says, his words growing more delicate.

  Hearing him speak of Sophie really throws me. I swallow heavily and feel my pulse rising fast. My mind begins to rush forward, jumping from one scenario to another where he'd have met her. The bridge is becoming more busy, but I don't care. I feel my hand move quickly to my pistol once more, ready to shoot him dead. If he was involved in their murder, I'll kill him right now, I swear it. I don't care who sees, how many witnesses there are. I'll kill him.

  I notice his eyes slide to my hand, hidden inside my jacket and gripped hard to my weapon. “How did you know them?” I growl. His eyes flash with alarm at my intensity and he quickly offers an explanation.

  “She was a friend, Colt. She worked for a time at one of my restaurants, that's all...”

  “She never worked at a restaurant,” I cut in.

  “No, she did, I'm not lying. It was when you were on a tour of duty...before she was killed. She was a lovely girl Colt...”

  “She worked for you?” I ask again. “Why didn't I know?”

  “It was cash in hand work, off the books. She told me you had some money troubles and I helped her out. I'm sure she would have told you when you got back. If she didn't die....”

  “She was murdered!” I say, my voice sizzling. “She didn't die. Someone killed her.”

  That familiar burning rage is bubbling to the surface now. Coupled with confusion and distrust. She worked for him? For Michael Carmine? Why didn't she tell me on the phone, in a letter? Why would she keep that quiet from me?

  “I know she was murdered Colt. I know.”

  The words storm into my brain. He knows they were murdered. But no one knows that. The police investigated, but never confirmed it was murder or arson. It's only been me, always me, who's known
that my family were killed. And now I find that Michael Carmine knows too.

  I can only manage one word now. “How.” I feel my mouth close tight and my jaw clench as I wait for the explanation, my fingers still tightly tangled around the handle of my gun.

  “Because I knew the man who did it,” Carmine says. “Because that same man ran away and changed his identity. Because that same man is the one Miss Munroe saw me shoot dead outside my bar.”

  His words hang in the air and there's a silence between us as I process the information. It takes a while to dawn on me fully that Carmine had done what I've been trying to do for years. That he'd been the one to fulfill the revenge mission that my life has become. That's why he pulled the trigger himself, rather than let one of his men do it. Because it was personal, because it meant something to him. And the great irony is that because of that, Kitty was drawn into a hunt, and I was too.

  I shake my head and half squint my eyes as I attempt to put everything together. It's Carmine's voice that breaks the silence and my train of thought, answering questions that I haven't even got to yet.

  “I killed the man for your family's memory, and for you Colt. I should have told you before I sent you to find Kitty, but I needed you for the job...”

  “The job to hunt down the girl who'd witnessed you killing the man who murdered my family?!” I blurt out. It's even complicated to say. “And me? Why try to have me killed as well?”

  He shakes his head as he speaks. “No, that was never the intention. Rugger acted on his own. He never knew your significance in all this. He never knew who the man I killed was, what it all meant. When you started to help the girl, he did what he thought I'd want him to do. In any other case, he'd have been right but...”