by Anne Conley
He giggled to himself. Wait until Vince heard about this. He was going to shit a brick, and Joe would enjoy watching it. This was definitely something to get his mind off his troubles.
At home, Miriam immediately went to the shower but the confusion didn’t wash away. As hard as she scrubbed, the water wouldn’t drain away the fact that her boss had threatened to sodomize her. The sweet man who had made her have so much fun last night, kissed her into oblivion, had nearly viciously raped her. It couldn’t be the same man, but she couldn’t figure out how that was possible.
They could be twins, but she would know that, wouldn’t she? That would be in the paperwork. That would be vital information for her to know. Simon wouldn’t keep that sort of intel away from her.
Out of the shower, she dressed in sweats and a camisole, forgoing her bra and inserts for comfort. She needed wine. Going to the kitchen to get some, a knock sounded at her door.
She didn’t want to answer it, didn’t want to face anyone.
But she did.
And regretted it.
Vince leered at her. “I heard about you and Jay-boy.” He was leaning on the doorframe, but when she opened the door, he swaggered in as if he owned the place. “Gotta say, I’m a little jealous. Hearing it from him really pissed me off, you know? I don’t like to hear about other men putting their hands on my wife.”
“I’m not your wife, Vince. And I’m not in the mood for your shit. So leave.” She kept the door open, standing next to it. Part of her wondered what Mr. Calahan and Vince had said about her, comparing notes like locker room jocks, but a bigger part didn’t even care. They were both assholes and she couldn’t wait to be finished with this job.
Vince’s eyes crawled over her body, stopping at her boobless chest. “What the hell, Miriam? What did you do to yourself?”
She rolled her eyes. “I had a double mastectomy. I was tired of mammograms and praying I didn’t have cancer.” There was a time in their lives this would have meant something to Vince. But apparently, it didn’t anymore.
“Shit. Why couldn’t you just have kept having mammograms? You cut them off?”
She shrugged, knowing this would be his reaction. How do you explain the stress behind those tiny rooms, the pink hospital gowns reminding you this was only a female problem, the invasiveness of it all, watching the other women, knowing the statistics and trying to figure out which of the eight women in the room with you had breast cancer? Would it be her this time?
She was suddenly glad for the guys at Pierce. They had questioned her, but only so they could understand, not to judge. Tears sprang to her eyes at the realization they were really the only men in her life right now. They loved her.
“Holy fuck.” Vince stared at her, mouth agape.
“Are you done staring? I’ve got things to do.” Wine to drink.
“Yeah, I-I guess. I don’t know who you think is gonna want to fuck you now. You must have let Jay-boy doggy-style you. I can’t imagine him doing a chick without tits.”
She was done. Using every last vestige of her calm, she pulled her fist back and let it fly, aiming at Vince’s right eye.
He howled in pain, clutching his face in his hands.
“Now, last time, get the fuck out of my apartment, Vince.” Her voice was controlled, and she knew if he stayed much longer, she wouldn’t be able to rein herself in.
Vince’s howls dropped to whimpers, and still clutching his face, he let himself out.
“You’re one crazy bitch,” he muttered unconvincingly before he left.
Miriam closed the door, letting out a huge sigh of relief before going to the kitchen for her much needed glass of wine.
The bottle was empty.
She nearly cried in frustration but managed to hold in the tears. She would just go to the store and get some. A lot. Then she would cry. For hours.
But first she texted Quinten.
I’m making the run tomorrow. Will you go with me? I really need a friend.
His response was immediate.
Absolutely.
Jake was perusing the produce section, looking for the perfect fruit for their date. He was planning a picnic at Barton Springs. It was perfect. They could eat, drink some wine, and stargaze. You could see stars way better there than downtown, and he liked the way she reacted to stars.
In the wine aisle, his heart jumped in his chest when he saw her. Then it rocked down to his toes. She looked awful.
She’d been crying, and not a soft sweet cry like at movies. No, somebody had made her do the ugly, splotchy face cry. And he wanted to kill them. A sense of possessiveness like he’d never known swelled in him as he watched her clean out a shelf of cabernet and put them all in her shopping cart.
“Miriam, what’s wrong?”
She turned to him and unleashed a fury he’d never known.
“You asshole! How dare you ask me what’s wrong! I thought you were a little weird at first, then things got weirder. But I honestly liked part of you! After what you did to me today, I never want to see you again. I’ll run your little errand, but I’m done with you. I’m never shopping here again. I’m never going by the park again, and I’m certainly never setting foot inside your precious bar again. You will never see me. Ever. And if you say another word to my fucking ex-asshole about me again, I will sic the most vicious, most protective, most alpha pack of men on you, and they’ll put you in a fucking coma. If you’re lucky.”
Speechless, he watched her run out of the store, leaving her cart full of wine behind.
And then it clicked.
Racing behind her, he called, “Miriam!” But he was too late.
Switching tracks, he turned and ran toward the security offices. He had to fucking fix this.
He barreled in the door to the front of the office suite and found it empty.
“Pierce!” he called out to the empty room. Three doors opened. Simon Pierce poked his head out of one, along with Quinten out of another. A man Jake hadn’t met stuck his head out another door. “Is Miriam the office manager?”
Quinten took an extra step out, puffing up his chest, making himself look larger, but he didn’t say anything. Simon nodded, eyes wide. Jake knew he must look like a maniac.
“Does she know we’re twins?” His eyes darted from face to face, seeing confusion on all of them but one. Big guy went pale. “Did I tell you we were twins?” Jake was frantic at this point. He couldn’t recall the entire conversation, and didn’t know if he’d left out that one little detail. He rarely acknowledged it and might not have thought it would be important for their case.
Except Miriam had gotten involved.
“Shit!” He sank into a chair by the desk. “She thought I was him.”
The big guy came around the desk. “You were the one she kept bumping into.” He stated it simply, as a matter of fact. Jake nodded.
“She kept acting scared around me, and I thought she might have been abused, but something happened today with Joe, and now she hates me.” He wanted to punch something. “Fucking Joe!”
Simon Pierce came around the desk to him. “We’re about finished, I think. We don’t know exactly where the money is he borrowed from your parents, and we’ll keep working until we find that, but he’s mixed up with some bad people. He’s got Miriam and Quinten making a delivery of guns to Mexico tomorrow.”
Joe’s running guns? “He’s gotten Miriam mixed up in his shit?” No fucking way was she going to make a drop in Mexico alone. He turned to Quinten, “You’re going, too?” The big guy nodded, and Jake felt marginally better. “I want to go, too.”
Simon growled at him, “Absolutely not.”
“You can’t stop me. I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to Miriam,” Quinten snarled.
“Why are you pissed at me? Joe’s the asshole here.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who’s got her twisted.” Jake felt a rush of pleasure at those words, then he remem
bered Joe had fucked it all up.
“I’ve got to explain things to her. I need for her to understand we’re two separate people. I’m not the sociopath, Joe is.” Jake pled with Quinton and Simon, understanding that Ryan was in the room for entertainment’s sake. His grin said it all. “Look, she’s special to me. I really like her, and Joe has fucked up everything for me for so long. I can’t let him mess with her anymore. This is not safe for her, and I need to talk to her.”
Simon snorted. “You tell her it’s not safe. I’d like to be there for that.”
Quinten made fists that popped his knuckles and Jake had to admit, the dude was intimidating. “Be at the bar at six a.m. Although, I don’t think it’s that great of an idea to confront her about this while she’s on her way to Mexico to traffic guns. She needs to have a cool head.”
“It’s six hours to the border. Surely she’ll calm down before then, after she hears the truth.”
“Whatever.”
Jake got to his brother’s bar the next morning, ready to explain himself. Quinten was already there, next to a nondescript mini-van twirling keys in one hand, watching Jake walk up. As soon as he got there, a black Escalade pulled up, a man got out, then the car drove away. The man looked mean, not smiling at either of them, but his eyes locked on Jake and didn’t waver. A chill went through him.
“Hola, Guey, wasn’t expecting to see your penis face here today. You don’t seem like the type to take care of your own shit, which is why I’m along for the ride.” His voice was low and cruel, and it figured this was who his brother was involved with. He turned to Quinten and looked him over. “I’m Javier, and I’m coming along for the ride. You the driver?”
Quinten nodded, silently sizing Javier up, and Jake felt a twinge of appreciation the brute was coming along.
Deciding to play along, Jake shrugged and didn’t say anything, his heart pounding. Miriam wouldn’t want to see him at first, but he couldn’t let her ride with this guy all the way to Mexico.
“Y’all better get in,” Quinten said. Turning to Jake, he pulled him aside. “She’s not going to like this at all.”
“I’ve got to, man. You understand, I can’t let her think I’m him anymore.” Quinten’s eyes looked sad, but he didn’t argue.
“Yeah, I understand.”
Jake got in after the gangster dude, who was in the front passenger seat, drumming impatiently on his thighs. Jake turned to Quinten, “Can we just go and leave her here?”
“Yeah, we could,” Quinten mused as he started the van. Just then, Miriam’s car pulled in and stopped. She got out and ran to the van. Jake’s heart sank as he saw the determination in her step. All sorts of scenarios flashed through his mind at what could happen with her on this drive.
“I’ve got the address! You need this, you can’t go without me!” Jake saw her eyes flash with recognition as they spotted Javier and then saw the exact moment she saw him in the back seat. Her eyes turned hard, and she mumbled something to herself he couldn’t hear.
When she stiffened her spine—thrusting out her chest and obviously resigning herself to this job—was when she might as well have punched him in his gut. She hated him and didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary with him, but for some reason was forcing herself to do this.
He managed to choke out, “I’ve got the address. You don’t need to come.” Her mouth dropped open, and Jake would have done anything to keep her away from this. She didn’t deserve to be here.
Miriam looked to Quinten, but Javier broke in. “She’s going.”
Miriam got in and slammed the door, leaving as much space between her and Jake as possible.
“What is this? Why the party?” she asked as she got in, refusing to look at him.
“I’m here because Joe’s a fuck up. He’s tried to rip me off twice now, and I’m not letting him get away with it. Big guy here is the driver, and it looks like you’re my insurance.” He leered at Miriam as he twisted around in his seat, and Jake felt the primal need to punch the smug look off his face.
Quinten put the van in gear and started driving.
Javier being here was a kink Jake hadn’t been anticipating, but he didn’t much care. He needed to make Miriam understand he wasn’t Joe and he cared about her. Whatever Joe did, he was different. He would do whatever it took to prove that to her.
But the way she was staring out the window told him she’d be perfectly happy not speaking for the six or so hours it took to get to the border.
He sighed as he gathered his thoughts, and his nerve.
Miriam was so angry she shook. Her entire body was a raging mass, ready to unleash itself. She didn’t know what the fuck the mafia guy was doing there, nor did she understand why Jake was there, except the only explanation was that nobody trusted her to do the job she had been assigned to do. Why the fuck was she even here? And why had the Tres Lobos guy called him Joe?
As soon as they were on the Interstate, Quinten’s quiet words broke into her consciousness. “Mir, there’s something you should know.”
She turned to him, and he nodded toward the asswipe next to her. Yeah, she knew he was there. Asshole. When she looked over at him, he actually looked hopeful with a mixture of chagrin that was altogether adorable, and it set her off. Rage boiled up in her like an explosion. He couldn’t get out of this fuckup with an innocent gesture.
“Son of a bitch!” She gave herself over to the anger and launched herself at him. They were both buckled in, not going anywhere, and she was going to use him for her personal punching bag for the next six hours.
“Ow! Listen to me, Miriam!” he roared as her fists pummeled his chest and face. It was pretty ineffective—as he was a rock solid man—but to his credit, he didn’t try to fight back.
“What the hell?” The thick Mexican accent sounded from the front seat as Javier turned to watch the show, but Miriam couldn’t care less.
She continued to beat on him, arms and legs flailing.
“Watch it!” Quinten growled from the front seat, but she didn’t care.
“You used me! You made me think you were different!” All of her anger at life in general spewed forth on Jake. “You nearly raped me! You threatened me! You think I’m going to give you a chance after that? You’re a fucking psychopath, and you are worse than the slime on the bottom of my shoes! I hate you!” The words felt great leaving her mouth. With each word, she spoke her heart, she rebelled against abuse in any form to her person. It was a revolt for women everywhere, for being weaker than a man, and it was a fuck you to the men who took advantage of it.
Quinten calmly drove, ignoring her outburst, or possibly giving her a mental cheer, who knew? Javier just watched, silent interest in his eyes.
“It wasn’t me…” Jake’s arms were up, defensively.
“I don’t fucking want to hear it! You are an asshole!” She was flailing, having lost all control, slapping and kicking out around her seatbelt. She unbuckled it and really let loose, finding a new reservoir of focus. She wanted to hurt this man.
Jake pleaded with her to listen, right before she landed a solid punch on his nose. “Ow! Shit, Miriam!” Clamping his hands over his face, she watched with satisfaction as blood poured out.
Suddenly, his hands reached for her, and he restrained her against him. Miriam fought, but this wasn’t like before, when he just let her hit him. Now he seemed to have a purpose, and the scent of him was making her forget hers. Manly aftershave wafted up her nose as he clamped her head against his chest and whispered in her ear. She almost didn’t hear him.
“I’m the client.” The words were spoken in a desperate whisper, desperate for her to hear them, desperate for her to understand. He pulled her head back so her forehead rested on his. She ignored the blood pouring from his nose. His eyes begged her to understand, and suddenly nothing made sense.
“I hired you,” Jake mouthed the words, but Javier must have seen them from the front seat, his position of avid curiosity.
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“Son of a bitch,” Javier growled. He pulled an enormous hand gun and pointed it to the back seat, in Jake and Miriam’s general direction.
At the same time, Quinten twisted the steering wheel. “Shit.”
Several things happened at once.
Jake’s arms clamped around Miriam in a vice, keeping her from moving, swearing into her ears. Quinten slammed on the brakes, locking them up and swerving all over the road. With a roaring scream, Javier went through the windshield, gun firing wildly. He landed in the middle of the road in a heap. Miriam watched in frozen fascination as he lay still. Was he dead? She didn’t have time to contemplate it because the locked up van went sideways, narrowly missing plowing over him.
They rolled over a bridge railing. She hadn’t realized a bridge was here. It was more of an overpass that went over a nearly-dry river. Miriam’s last thought before impact was that she was locked in an embrace with a man who repulsed her. She clutched at his steely arms as they locked around her, a pleasantly sickening, weightless feeling taking over for a split-second before a bone-jarring crash, slamming her head into his with a crack.
Guns in bags were everywhere, some of the bags having ripped open and some dangling from headrests. One hit Quinten in the back of his head and a nasty gash seeped blood.
Everything grayed out for Miriam, and she struggled to maintain consciousness. She studied her surroundings in an effort to regain control of her emotions.
They were at rest in a muddy river bed with trickles of water running around the van. Miriam’s heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled to free herself from Jake’s arms.
“Everybody okay?” Quinten grunted.
Miriam nodded, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jake whispered in her ear, and she nodded as he grabbed her hand and her out of the van. It was lodged in a clump of brush and wasn’t moving anywhere.
She was trying to make sense of his previous words, still echoing in her brain. He was the client. He hired them. What the fuck did that mean? Her head pounded, and she felt more than a little woozy and was having a hard time gathering her thoughts.
