Run With Me

by Shorter, L. A.

  “It's OK,” he says to me, “there's no need to apologize.” Now he glances down behind me at the closed box, back in its position, hidden within his wardrobe. “I don't take it out much any more.”

  I nod. I understand. The pain is too great.

  “How long were you looking?” he asks.

  “Not long,” I lie, and I know Colt can tell I'm not being truthful.

  “It's really OK,” he says again. “It's just a box of memories. They were beautiful, weren't they. Sophie and Ellie.”

  I nod and smile. “You were a beautiful family.”

  He raises his arm behind me, glances one last time at the box, and shut the wardrobe. Then he turns and I follow him through into the living room, where we sit on the sofa.

  “How did it go tonight,” I ask him. I'm praying it's already over, but I have a feeling that it won't be that easy.

  “I've got a lead,” he says. “I tailed Rugger to his apartment in South LA and put a tracker on his car. It's just a matter of time now until he leads me to Carmine.”

  “Do you think Carmine's still in hiding?” I ask.

  Colt half nods. “It's possible. I could be wrong, but I've got a hunch he's waiting somewhere where he'll have an alibi for when Klein gets killed. He won't want anything to be able to trace him to it.”

  “That makes sense. And you think Rugger will lead you there?”

  “I know it.”

  That night I sleep alone in Colt's bed. He tells me to rest, that he wants to keep an eye on the tracker to see where and when Rugger moves. When I wake in the morning, Colt remains seated on the sofa, his laptop open ahead of him. There's a red light blinking on it in the same position as the previous night. Rugger's car hasn't moved.

  The day wears on and the tracker begins to move. It returns to the bar before going to several other locations around the city. Each time the car stops, Colt checks the address. Restaurants, bars, clubs. All owned by Michael Carmine. It seems Rugger is keeping an eye on that side of the business. For several hours in the evening the car stops outside a strip club. I don't know whether it's another of Carmine's businesses, or merely part of Rugger's social schedule. Could quite easily be both.

  By now it's become obvious that Colt can hardly keep his eyes open, so I offer to keep watch. Rugger's car has returned to his apartment, presumably for the night, so there should be little activity, for a few hours at least. Colt puts up a bit of a fight, but eventually agrees once I've promised I'll stay awake.

  “We have to work as a team,” I tell him. “You can't do all of this on your own.”

  He trundles off to bed and I start my vigil on the sofa. Thankfully Colt does have some coffee in the apartment, which I use to keep me alert as my own eyes being to drop. Hours pass, and I stare at nothing but a blinking red light. By the time dawn surfaces, I think I'm going half mad.

  Then there's movement. It's still early morning, but the light is inching along the map on Colt's computer. Now I don't need any coffee to stay alert. I sit entranced as the blip moves northwards through LA, veering west up into Beverley Hills. The car stops on a street for a brief moment, before moving forward again up a private driveway. It's gone through a private gate, I think to myself.

  The car stops, but I keep my eyes on it for a moment to make sure it doesn't move off. A couple of minutes pass, and nothing. A mansion in Beverley Hills. It can only be Michael Carmine's.

  Now I'm quickly on my feet and marching towards Colt's bedroom. If he's there – if they're both there – now's the time to strike. I open the door and he jumps up with a start, his hand clutched at his gun. “What's going on?” he questions immediately.

  “I think I've found him.”

  His eyes widen and he jumps from the bed, dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs. He rushes past me towards the laptop, and I follow behind. I see the blinking red light, still situated outside the house in Beverley Hills, and tell him that he's just driven there.

  “Carmine's house,” he whispers, staring at the map, before turning and rushing back to his room. Within a few moments he's stepping back out, dressed in a pair of black pants and slim fitting black top. He moves towards the door but my words stop him in his tracks.

  “I'm coming too,” I say.

  He turns to me. “It's not safe. You should stay here.”

  I step forward with authority. “Carmine's ruined my life too. Killed people I love. I want to come. I can help.”

  I don't really know what I'll be able to do, and for a split second I question what I'm saying. But then I realize I want to stay close to Colt. I want to know when the job's been done. I want to know when it's all over. I can't sit here, in this lifeless place, and wait. I don't want to go through that again.

  Colt keeps his eyes on me for a few moments, before nodding gently. “OK,” he says. “But you need to do what I tell you.”

  An abbreviated smile flashes over my face as Colt turns out of the door and I follow in behind him. When we reach the car Colt hands me a small device with a large screen. On it blinks the red light, still outside the mansion.

  “I don't know the area,” Colt says, “so you'll have to guide me.”

  I can't tell whether this is his way of making me feel like I'm needed, or whether it's actually useful having me along for the ride. I'm sure this car has some sort of navigation system that could get him there just as easy as me. In any case, I don't question it, and keep my eyes on the map, zooming out and into our current location to direct Colt through the city and up into the hills.

  Soon we're approaching, and for the first time we get a clear, true look at the street and the houses lining them. They're all gated, all set back from the main, wide, tree lined road. Inside are luxury cars parked outside imposing mansions, although it's hard to make out much more beyond the tall walls that surround each property.

  Our target house is right up ahead, and I'm surprised when Colt doesn't stop, but continues to drive past. As he does he slows down, ever so briefly, and twists his neck to check out the front gate. Then he continues on down the street, turns to the right down another road, and parks the car.

  “There's no one manning the gate,” he says. “It opens electronically either using a control or from someone inside the mansion.”

  He got all that in that split second?

  He opens up a small compartment on the inside of the door and pulls out a small pistol. He hands it to me, and I take it. It's the first time I've held a gun, and it's surprisingly heavy.

  “Why do I need this?” I ask, now slightly regretting my decision to come along.

  “Protection,” he says. “Just in case.” He doesn't elaborate.

  Then he takes another small device and clips it to the inside of his belt. Immediately another red blip appears on the screen in my hand. “It's a tracking device, so you'll know where I am at all times. Keep an eye on me, OK. If I'm in there too long, if the device goes off or I'm stationary for an extended period, don't stick around.”

  Then he passes me a cell phone. “If I'm OK, I'll call you on this. If I don't....you need to forget about me.”

  He grips my hand and draws me eyes to his. “Kitty...if I fail, you need to go alone.”

  My voice is almost a whimper when I speak. “Where?”

  “I have a man in Texas you can trust. He's like Dale. He can set you up with a new life. There's money in the trunk with his details. I've told him we'll be coming....or that you might have to come alone.”

  I feel my chest constrict at the thought that Colt isn't going to come out of this alive. At the thought that I'm going to be on my own again, back on the run with Carmine ever on my tail. I shake my head. “I don't think I can do this without you.”

  His eyes turn to steel and he lifts his palm to my cheek. “It's just a precaution. I'm not going to fail. For you, for my family, your family...and for me. I'm going to finish this.”

  His words give me hope. Hope that he'll step back into the car in only a few minute
s. Hope that this nightmare will be over once and for all. That we can both move on without the specter of Michael Carmine always haunting our steps.

  He draws me into a final hug, and I grip him harder than ever. “Don't leave the car,” he says quietly, giving me my final orders. “Watch the blip and promise me that if something goes wrong, you'll drive away.”

  He pulls away and stares deep into my eyes. “Promise me Kitty.”

  I nod and whisper. “I promise.”

  Then he smiles, almost playfully, turns, and steps from the car.

  I watch him until he's turned round the corner, then drop my eyes to the red blip on the map. It moves slowly around towards the gate, before stopping outside the outer wall. Then it begins circling around the street and the main wall that lines the edge of the property. I sense he's looking for a weak point of entry so that he can get in unseen.

  I wonder exactly what security the place has. If it really is Carmine's place – and that's still just speculation – surely there will be guards, cameras, and a variety of other security measures in place? Part of me hopes that Colt finds it too hard to find an entry point so just gives up and returns to the car. There will be other opportunities to get him, won't there? Why try to infiltrate his stronghold like this? Surely there's another way? The blip is still perusing the outer wall when I begin questioning whether I should jump out of the car and bring him back. Tell him it's not worth it, that it's too risky. Tell him to forget everything and run with me, right now.

  But I don't move. I don't run from the car. I promised him I'd do what he told me. I have to trust him, trust his judgment, trust that he knows what he's doing. Who am I to question his authority? This is his world, his job. I remember what Dale told me back in the cabin. If anyone can do it, Colt can. I have to believe he was right.

  The blip moves now, inward past the wall, and I know that he's inside. He must have found an entry point. It continues to snake this way and that towards the mansion, then around it. It stops periodically, perhaps listening for something, perhaps avoiding the gaze of a guard or camera. It's so quiet in the car as I hold the device in my hand, try to imagine what's happening only a few hundred feet away. Every time he stops I hold my breath, wondering whether he's been found, been shot dead. When he moves off again I exhale, praying for it to end soon.

  Eventually he makes it inside the house, but the map's not detailed enough for me to know anything more than that. It merely shows the red blip moving around the large area, creeping along in straight lines. I imagine him shuffling along walls, listening for voices, hunting down the enemy.

  It must have been over 20 minutes since he left the car when the blip finally stops. Not like before. Before it would stop for a few moments and then move off again. This time, it stops for one minute. Then another. Soon the blip hasn't moved for five minutes and I'm beginning to panic inside the car. I suddenly feel my hand gripping tightly at the pistol Colt gave me, and an urge rushes through me to spring to his rescue. I could climb the wall, run into the house, find him. I could save him, for once. I could save him.

  His voice reaches me from somewhere inside my head. Promise me that if something goes wrong, you'll drive away. I told him I'd go. I promised I wouldn't do anything stupid, that I'd at least save myself. I keep staring at the blip, hoping for it to move off again, but it doesn't. It stays still, and all I can imagine is his body, filled with bullets, lying in a pool of blood on Carmine's floor.

  I stay in the car, hoping now beyond hope. Then, without warning, the red dot fades before my eyes, disappearing from the screen. I go numb and a silent tear slides down my cheek. Colt's not coming back. Colt is dead.

  Chapter 25 - Colt

  Colt

  Locked in the darkness, I think only of Kitty.

  At least she got away. She must have, otherwise I'd already be dead. I can't tell how many days have passed since I felt that crack to the back of my skull. Since I saw Rugger, before my eyes went dark, hovering over me with the butt of his gun crimson red with my blood.

  I don't know where I am. Possibly in the basement of the house? Maybe at another location, somewhere remote and out of the way. It's been black for days now, my only respite from the darkness coming when I'm tortured. I prefer the darkness, because when it's light, the pain starts.

  It's information they want. Information about Kitty. Where she is. Who's helping her. Every day when they come down and try to extract what they want, a smile creeps onto my face despite what's coming. It means she's another day further away from them. It's another day where she's safe. If she followed my instructions she'll be long gone by now. Set up with a new name, a new identity, a new life. I know, now, that I'll never be able to spend it with her. All I can do is hope that she's never found, never caught. As long as she lives, I'll die a little bit happier.

  But not happy. I'll never be happy knowing I failed. Failed to take out Carmine, take out Rugger. I heard him, speaking on the phone in the mansion. I'd managed to get in easier than I thought. There were only a couple of guards on the perimeter that I easily incapacitated, and the cameras were few and far between. Once I got inside and heard his voice, I felt sure that it was Rugger he was talking with. I'd get them both at once. Caught in an office discussing business. I'd be able to shoot them both dead right then and there, and be back with Kitty before their bodies went cold.

  But no. I felt the impact at the back of my head before I'd had a chance to fire on Carmine. Just before I caught glimpse of who he was talking with. It was the manager that I pursued from the club. The man whose home I entered when looking for Carmine the first time. Not Rugger. A foolish mistake, and one I'll regret for the rest of my short life.

  When I hit the floor I fell unconscious almost immediately. I just had long enough to see Rugger there, with his bloodied gun. Just long enough to smell the heavy scent of smoke creep up my nose. Just long enough to see the smirk run across his craggy face, see his eyes flash with pleasure, knowing that now he'd be able to finish the job on me.

  After the blackness consumed me, I thought I'd never wake again. When my eyes opened in darkness I thought I was dead. Then, slowly, a sliver of light surrounding a door frame became apparent. I could just make out the shape of the room. Small, claustrophobic, and completely silent.

  Several days went by as two men I didn't know came into the room and sought to extract information from me. I bit my tongue and smiled at them. There was no way I'd give Kitty up. No way I'd tell them anything. I've taken beatings before, but never felt the sting of pain like what they administered. But still, I didn't yield. Day after day, I said nothing.

  I think I've been here for about 3 days now, but it's getting hard to tell. I have yet to see Rugger, see Carmine. Just these two men, looking for information. I sleep in fits, never knowing how much time has passed when I wake. My wrists throb from the rope rubbing at them. My head aches consistently, pulsing still from the blow Rugger gave me. They feed me water and bread to keep me alive, tease me with the promise of nicer food in order to break me. They don't know me at all. They won't break me.

  Eventually the door opens and Rugger walks in. He smiles at me and I plant one back at him. “I'm going to really enjoy this,” he growls through yellow teeth, before administering his own brand of torture. He doesn't even ask me any questions. I know this is for him. I know he enjoys it.

  It seems like days later that I finally see Carmine. He looks so out of place in the room when he enters, smartly dressed in a fine suit. He pulls up a chair and sits in front of me, alone, just frowning. Before he removes his sunglasses I catch my reflection in them. My clothes are tattered and torn, my body bruised and battered. Blood spills from my nose, my mouth, my forehead. I look like I've been through World War 3.

  Carmine sighs and just looks at me for a few moments before finally speaking. “I suppose you found out the truth then didn't you Colt. You couldn't just let it lie could you. You couldn't just believe what I told you. Tell me....how did y
ou find out? Did you speak to Klein?”

  I lift my head with my aching neck and stare through bloodshot eyes at him. “Pullman,” I growl. It's the first word I've uttered in days.

  He looks confused. “Pullman. But I killed him. That part of my story was true.” He's so casual when he speaks, like none of this is anything to him. Just another problem that needs solving. I feel my wrists tense harder against the ropes.

  “He left a confession, and your name came up.”

  He sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “A confession. Right, I see. And how did you happen upon this confession?”

  “What does it matter?” I say through gritted teeth.

  He throws his hands up. “Ah, I suppose you're right. The truth's out there now, but it's all irrelevant. There's really nothing you can do about it. I'll find the girl, and I'll kill you.”

  “You won't find her,” I whisper.

  Now he's leaning forward again. “Oh I won't? Like I didn't find Pullman? It took me a few years, but I always tie up my loose ends Colt. Pullman could have ratted me out at some point, so I needed him dead. Just like young Kitty. I won't stop until I find her. You know that really, don't you?”

  My eyes drop and my body begins to relax as the one hope I had, the hope that Kitty will be safe, begins to fade. He's right. Eventually she'll slip up. Eventually he'll track her down. Whether it takes months or years, he'll find her if he puts enough energy into it.

  “So why don't you just kill me now then?” I ask. “If you know you'll find her, why are you keeping me alive.”

  He stands up and paces behind me, drawing out the moment like a stage villain. I feel his hands drop onto my shoulders as his slithery voice tickles at my ear. “You know what, you're exactly right. I'd hoped you'd give her up, but I can see now that's not going to happen.”

  I tense again, feeling all my muscles working together to rip myself free. But my ankles are locked fast to the legs of the chair, my wrists bound to its arms. All I manage to do is shake the chair around, scraping at the stone floor, as Carmine laughs behind me.