by T L Swan
It wasn’t our reality and I knew that all along.
Maybe I don’t deserve happiness.
People with families like mine don’t get happy endings.
I stare out at the city below. Where are you now, Stace?
I watch the people bustle along on the street below. This place never seems to go to sleep. It’s after 1am.
Where is he?
I frown as my eyes fix on two men on the street. They aren’t acting like everyone else. They keep stopping, looking at the people around them. I sit closer to the window and really concentrate
Is that…?
I sit back. Stop it, your imagining things now. My eyes stay glued to the two men and as they come under a street light, my worst nightmare becomes my reality.
It’s Stucco and one of the men from the ship.
I scurry back from the window as my heart begins to hammer. They found us. Oh my God.
I go back and stand behind the curtain and watch them. They seem to be looking around and talking and then pointing and discussing something. They obviously don’t know which hotel we are staying at, and in slow motion, I watch them turn the corner and walk towards town… where Stace is.
Oh no.
I run to my phone and dial his number frantically.
Pick up. Pick up. Please pick up.
No answer.
Shit.
I throw the phone onto the bed in frustration and it bounces onto the floor.
What do I do? I begin to pace back and forth. It’s only a matter of time until they find us. Stace will be sitting in a bar somewhere and they will find him. He will be unprepared and have no defense.
Fuck. Why didn’t I just ask him if he took the diamonds? “Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot?” I cry out loud.
For twenty minutes I pace as I try to figure out what to do. I need to find him. I have no choice but to find him. I run to the wardrobe and put on my wig, a dress, and some fake glasses. I grab my phone, our passports, and find the gun and put it all in my handbag. I walk out of our room and into the elevator. I push the button with my heart hammering hard in my chest. I scroll through my phone to try and find a map satellite. I have no idea where I am going. I look through the apps and I find one.
Find My Phone.
Huh? What’s this? Stace must have put it on my phone unless it came with it. I click through and it seems to be some kind of tracking device. Hang on, I wonder if he put it on his phone, too? I quickly type in Stace’s number and watch the screen. Low and behold, like magic, a little red dot lights up the screen.
Yes!
He’s not far away, just four blocks from here. The doors of the elevator open and I bounce out with renewed optimism.
I know where he is.
* * *
The street is busy and bustling and I make my way out, knowing the little red dot is here somewhere, I just have to find it. I think it’s just up here on the right. I keep my head down and walk as fast as I can, aware that at any moment I may be spotted.
The red dot seems to be underneath me, and I frown as I do a full circle on the spot.
Where the hell is he? I walk into the bar on the left hand side of the street and search with no success. I stare at the phone and frown it says he is literally above me. I look around, and over by the wall I find a staircase and tentatively walk up. I smile broadly when I get to the top.
A bar. I walk through and the first person I see is Stace, sitting alone at a bench seat at the back with a beer as his companion.
I approach the table. “Mind if I join you?” I ask.
His eyes rise up to meet mine and he shrugs without answering.
I slide in next to him. “They’ve found us.”
He frowns as his eyes flicker to me. “How do you know?”
“I saw Stucco and one of the others in the street below our hotel looking for us.”
He exhales deeply and sips his beer.
I wait for him to say something but he doesn’t.
“I think we should go,” I whisper.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he replies flatly.
My heart drops. “Stace,” I whisper as I put my hand on his thigh.
He flicks it off. “Don’t touch me. I’m so fucking angry with you, I can’t see straight.”
“I know. I’m angry with myself.”
We stay silent for a while and he orders another drink.
“We really should go,” I whisper. “We don’t have time to be sitting in bars.”
He shakes his head. “Right now I got bigger problems than fucking Stucco.” He growls.
A smirk crosses my face. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” he snaps.
“I should have asked you if you took them.”
“You should have.”
“I just…” I pause as I try to articulate my thoughts. “I’m not very good at trusting people.”
“You said you loved me.”
“I do,” I whisper.
“That’s not love, Rosh.” He pauses. “Not the kind I give, anyway.”
“I don’t have your love yet, Stace, we both know that.”
His eyes meet mine. “It would be much easier to walk away from you if you didn’t.”
He’s going.
My eyes tear up. “Please don’t walk away from me.” The lump in my throat gets really big and I find it hard to speak. “I’m much better when I’m with you. I can try harder.”
“I just don’t need this,” he whispers.
I sit with resignation, understanding exactly where he is coming from, and after a long pause of silence I speak quietly. “When we get out of here, you can go.” The tears burst from my eyes and I wipe them away shamefully. “You are better off without me.”
He continues drinking his beer, void of emotion.
“But at this moment we need to go,” I whisper. “Stace, they are going to find us. We are in danger. You can leave me later.”
He downs the rest of his beer.
“I have our passports and the gun in my bag,” I whisper.
“Give me the gun.”
I pass it to him under the table.
“You walk in front of me. We are more noticeable if we are together.” He thinks for a moment and hands me back the gun. “You keep it.”
I frown.
“I can handle myself without a gun,” he explains.
I nod and put it back into my bag.
“Just remember that we are on land now. If you shoot someone, you are going to jail.” He widens his eyes. “So don’t shoot anyone.”
“Okay,” I murmur, distracted as I stand. “So straight back to the hotel?” I ask.
“Yes, and then we will go.”
I nod. “Please be careful.” I look up into his eyes and I just have to say it. “I love you,” I whisper as I grab his hand.
He squeezes my hand in his as his eyes search mine. “Then start acting like it.”
I smile softly, and in that split second, I know it’s going to be okay between us. Relief mixed with adrenaline starts to pump through my bloodstream. We need to get out of here. Damn this drama. Why can’t we just be in our love bubble somewhere on a secluded luxury island? I stand and make my way out onto the street. I drop my head, and without looking up, I walk fast. I continue without hesitation until I get to the hotel where I turn and wait in the shadows of the trees next to the entrance door. For fifteen minutes, I wait.
Where is he? I glance at the time on my phone. He has been way too long. Something is wrong.
Shit.
What do I do? Do I wait here? He gave me the gun for protection, but who’s protecting him? I slide my hand into my bag to check that it is still there and I feel the cold, hard metal. I blow out a grateful breath. I bite my thumbnail as I stare out into the darkness.
It must be after 2am.
Where are you? Come on, come on.
He’s not coming. I walk to the edge of the curb and stare down in the direc
tion I came from. I can’t see anything odd going on.
Fucking hell. I have to go back to see where he is. I glance back up at our hotel room window. Did he go in another door and I didn’t see him?
There is no other door, stupid.
Shit.
I walk back down the hill toward town, careful to keep in the darkened shadows, and I’m positive this isn’t bloody safe. Forget about Stucco. Who knows who else is here? I become super sensitive to all the sounds around me. I hear a can kick across the ground in the distance and I turn suddenly. My footsteps are magnified from the earlier downpour as I try and listen for unfamiliar sounds. I hear a woman scream in the distance and I stop still as I battle the fear in my throat. I turn and look back up at the hotel, and then back in the direction I am going. I slide my hand into the bag and grip the gun. My heart is trying to escape from my chest.
If you shoot anyone, you are going to jail. Stace’s words from earlier echo in my mind. I don’t want to go through all this shit to end up in a Columbian prison for life.
Don’t shoot anybody. Just don’t shoot anybody, I remind myself.
Where the frigging hell are you? I get to the row of shops and start to look around frantically. The street is still so busy. Why are there so many damn people around? Actually, that’s a good thing. I can’t imagine how frightening this would be if the town were deserted. A police car drives slowly past and I feel like jumping out in front of them and asking for their help, but I know they can’t help us. Nobody on Earth can help us. I walk past an alley between two restaurants and I peer up into the shadows. I frown and stop on the spot.
Three men are up the other end in the darkness, and one of them is Stace.
Fuck.
I immediately slink up against the wall in the shadows near the opening and listen. I strain my ears as hard as I can, but I can’t hear what they are saying. I need to get closer… but what if he gets out of it and then I am here and ruin the whole thing? But, what if they kill him?
That’s it. I’m getting closer. I slowly tiptoe towards them in the darkness, until finally I can hear what they are saying.
“I’m giving you one last chance. Where the fuck is she?” Stucco growls.
Oh God.
“I told you, I don’t fucking know. She took me hostage to get off the ship. I haven’t seen her since we landed.”
“Bullshit. That’s an outright lie.”
“Go to fucking hell. I don’t know where she is.”
“Get him,” Stucco says to the other man.
The other man grabs Stace and a scuffle breaks out.
“Get your hands off me,” Stace snaps.
A punch is thrown and I screw up my face as I slowly get the gun out.
“Vikinos wanted you alive, but I don’t care for that. You are better off dead.” Stucco growls.
“Fuck you,” Stace yells as he connects a hard hit to Stucco’s jaw. He staggers back and then regains composure and runs at Stace and they fall to the ground.
I grip the gun with white-knuckle force.
The other man starts to kick Stace on the ground as he fights with Stucco, and I step forward. Don’t shoot anyone. I step back into the shadows.
Stace jumps up and does some kind of round kick and connects with the man’s jaw and he instantly drops to the ground, out cold.
Good one.
Then he turns on Stucco and goes ballistic. The sound of the hits are so brutal, I have to shut my eyes. Stace gets him on the ground and hits him and Stucco pulls out a gun.
Oh no. I step forward and point the gun at the two of them. “Don’t move,” I yell.
Stucco looks up and the momentary distraction allows Stace the crucial break he needs. He hits him hard and fast four times in succession and he slams his head on the concrete. Stucco falls back dazed and incoherent. He doesn’t move again. I walk over to Stace who has blood running down from his eyebrow.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
He looks down the alley and nods as he wipes the blood from his lip. Stucco’s phone rings and we look at each other. Panting, Stace bends and retrieves it from Stuccos pocket, he answers it, but doesn’t say anything.
The voice on the other end is loud and clear. “Where are you, we’re coming through town now.”
Stace hits the end button and looks at me. “Run.”
19
“What?” I whisper.
“Run.” He growls as he grabs my hand. We turn and run as fast as we can to the end of the alley and then stop still in the shadows as we peer around the corner and onto the street.
A cab is slowly coming down the road. “I’m going to try and get it.” I glance at Stace and the blood running down his face. “Clean yourself up or he won’t let you in.”
“Yeah, okay,” he murmurs as he takes his t-shirt off and begins to wipe the blood from his face. I run out onto the road and put my hands up in front of the cab. “Stop, please stop,” I mouth in desperation.
The driver slows and I open the back door and jump in, I gesture a come here signal to Stace and he runs from the shadows and jumps in the back of the cab.
The cab driver frowns and turns to eye us suspiciously. “Is everything alright?” he asks.
“Yes, bar fight,” Stace replies quickly. “Can you take us to the Marriot hotel please?”
He nods cynically and turns and pulls out into the traffic.
I frown. “The Marriot?” I mouth.
Stace shakes his head subtly and grabs my hand in his, the warmth of it instantly calming me. He then lies down and puts his head on my lap and I know it’s so nobody can see he is in the cab. “Come down here and cuddle me,” he says out loud.
He wants me out of sight, too. I lie down across his back and we stay silent for the rest of the trip until it comes to a halt. He pays the driver and we sheepishly get out of the cab. He grabs my hand and we walk across the road in the opposite direction and along the backstreets until another cab goes by and we flag it down. “Now we can go back to the hotel,” he says softly as it comes to a halt. “We climb into the backseat.”
“The Bog Hotel, please.”
“Yes,” the driver responds, uninterested.
We drive a little way and Stace interrupts my thoughts.
“Can you let us out at the side street?”
“In this street here?” The driver gestures.
“Yes, please,” Stace replies. The cab slows and we climb out again.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
“We will go in through the parking lot. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”
I turn to look at him and he’s right, his face is a mess. “Shit, are you okay?” I frown.
“Yeah, that fucker laying the boot in didn’t help.”
I run my hands through my hair as my apprehension rises. “Oh God, Stace. What are we going to do?”
“Let’s just get to the room safely.”
“What if they know we re staying here?” I whisper as we walk down the ramp to the underground parking lot.
Stace slides his key into the scanner and the security doors slowly rise.
“Then we’re fucked.”
I shake my head as my nerves start to really thump. We walk through the darkened parking lot as we both scan our surroundings. This could be the prefect place to murder us. “This doesn’t feel safe,” I whisper.
“It’s not.”
I screw up my face. “Can’t you lie and pretend we are safe?”
He shakes his head and keeps walking. “No.” We get into the elevator and push the button for our floor. “Give me the gun.”
“Why?” I fumble through my bag. “What do you think is going to happen?” My eyes widen. “Do you think they are going to be up here?”
Oh God, shit just keeps getting worse and worse.
He shrugs as he pulls the gun open to check the ammunition, and then he turns to me. His eyes scan my face and he smirks.
“What?” I ask.
I instantly grab the wig and straighten it up. “That’s the least of my fucking problems,” I whisper.
The elevator comes to a halt and Stace tucks the gun in the back of his jeans and we slowly exit into the hall. Looking both ways down the long and scary corridor, we walk quietly to our room, and when we get to our door Stace puts his finger up to his lip to order my silence. He then points to the other side of the hallway. “Wait over there,” he mouths.
Oh God, he thinks they are in the room. I take my place over at the far wall and he swipes the key card and opens the door. He peers in as I hold my breath. The room is dark and silent.
Are they in there?
He waits for a moment and then he disappears into the darkness.
“Please don’t be in there, please don’t be in there,” I whisper again and again. He turns on the light and then checks the room and comes back to the door. “The coast is clear.”
I let out a deep breath and walk into the room before he closes the door behind me. We stand still for a moment looking at each other as we process what just happened.
“We are going to have to stay here for the night.” He sighs. “Try and get some sleep.”
“Are we safe?”
He shrugs. “Safer than we are out there.”
It’s at this time I get a good look at his face and I think that guy has kicked his cheekbone in. One half of his face is swollen. “Stace.” I frown as I put my hand up to his face. “Your cheekbone is broken.”
“It’s fine.” He winces as I touch it.
“We need some ice,” I murmur. I think for a moment and then pick up the phone and call reception.
“Hello, room service,” the bored operator answers.
I fake a calm voice. “Can I please get a bottle of champagne and a bucket of ice brought up to our room, please?” I glance at the clock. It’s 2am. God, what must they think?
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.”
I walk Stace into the bathroom and sit him on the side of the bath and he winces. A deep cut is above his right eye and is still trickling blood, but it’s his left cheekbone that I am worried about. I wet a cloth and start to clean him up and he sits and watches me.
