His Father

by A. E. Murphy

  “He made a mistake,” Sargent yells, pulling forwards but he’s being held too tightly. “He did what anybody would have done.”

  “Who?” Yaroslava asks calmly, his mask still one of happiness. He’s so fucked up. “Not why, Mr. Wolf, but who?”

  I look down the barrel of the gun, wishing this would all just be over.

  Sargent doesn’t reply, of course he doesn’t, it’s Maddox. I’d never expect him to choose his son over me and Maddox is my life. I’ll never give him up either.

  Yaroslava lowers the gun and an evil smirk creeps across his lips and flashes in his brown eyes that are just as soulless as his daughter’s. “Perhaps he needs a little more incentive?”

  Nastya claps her hands and nods to Stone. “Have him fuck her.”

  My teary eyes go to Sargent who looks at me, panicked and likely as terrified as I am.

  “I don’t rape women, not my style,” Stone states, raising a hand as his eyes too come to me. “Doesn’t get me off.”

  “No matter,” Yaroslava says with a shrug and I feel the bald-headed bastard’s hand in my hair again. “Sergei loves to take women.”

  “No,” I yell when he clamps an arm around my waist and brings my back to his body. I struggle, clawing at his arm as he holds me tight. “Let me go.”

  “The couch will do, Sergei.”

  Sergei turns me and grins in my face. My body hits the couch with a jarring thud that sends pains shooting through my neck, burning the muscles that protect it.

  “Let me go,” I beg. “Please… stop!” I kick out as he grips my jeans and rips open the button without so much as a yank. The little metal circle hits the wood floor and rolls away.

  “If you don’t take your hands off her…” Sargent yells as my jeans are tugged down. I feel the air hit my rear as I try to crawl away.

  This is humiliating, terrifying, I don’t want to be here anymore. Just end it. It needs to be over.

  “That’s enough,” Stone bellows and I feel his hands under my arms, yanking me off the couch and away from the guy that smells of petrol.

  He glares at us both as Stone pulls my shaking form into his side, bending to slide my jeans back up to hide my modesty.

  “I won’t be a party to this, Yaroslava,” he snarls. “This is not how we do shit. Not in my fucking city.”

  “Such sensitive little creatures in the States,” Nastya says while rolling her eyes.

  I heave when I see Sergei palming himself over his trousers. My hand grips the back of Stone’s shirt. I’m going to faint.

  “You already have the name, you already know who has done this so why fucking toy with an innocent woman?” Stone yells.

  “Innocent?” Nastya laughs loudly, her tone a screech against my humming eardrums. “She’s as innocent as us. Did you know she killed her father and brother when she was only fourteen years old? Murdered them in cold blood. Hardly innocent.”

  When eyes come to me at that revelation I shrink away. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean to kill them.

  I concentrate on Stone’s aftershave and how it smells sweet, but also spicy. It’s helping me breathe. I just focus on that and nothing else.

  “It was self-defense, Nastya,” Sargent replies, glancing at me but I look away before we connect. I don’t know how he knows but I suspected he might look into my past. It’s not like it’s a hidden record. “She paid her dues.”

  “Whatever.” Nastya waves him off and looks around, bored.

  Stone shifts secretly and I feel his hand under my ribs, he presses something on his side, something hidden by his clothes. “Yaroslava, you had to know the drug thing is a bust, you made millions out of shipping shit out of the country. It’s time to find a new way. We got cocky. Greedy, even, and it was our downfall.”

  Yaroslava glares at Stone as he spits, “Are you forgetting who you’re talking to, boy? I’ve been running this operation since you were in diapers! My loyalty to your club is the only reason I’m not putting a fucking bullet in your skull right now!”

  “It’s true, Yaroslava, you might think I’m speaking out of turn but I told you to stop at the drugs, then you brought weapons into it, even missiles. It got too much. Somebody was gonna find out at the rate you were shifting shit, doesn’t matter who anymore. It’s done. It’s over.”

  “That’s all we need,” Sargent says, and it sounds completely out of context.

  The sound of glass shattering and bullets flying echoes through the next few moments, distorting reality as Stone pins me under his body. I don’t scream, I can’t even breathe. I want to vomit and faint as men storm the room, the feds.

  Bodies drop, bullets fly, people grunt and cry but then it all goes silent.

  “Oh shit,” I hear Stone murmur and I look up again, just as Yaroslava cries, “NASTYA!” He starts sobbing in Russian as he cradles her to his chest. Blood flows from her throat and even I find the moment emotional.

  “WHO?” he bellows, looking around the room.

  “You’ll see her in a second, you Russian prick.” A fed I recognize as Samuels from last night raises his gun and with a bang, Yaroslava is gone, just like that, just like Tucker. “Oops, crossfire casualty.”

  He high-fives a man beside him who sneers down at the Russian father and daughter before somebody tosses a sheet over their faces.

  I turn and dry heave properly this time, needing to vomit but my stomach is empty. Stone rubs my back but I push him away.

  “I’m sorry I let it get so far, I needed you to be in a position I could grab and move you,” he explains softly.

  “That all just happened,” I say, looking around the room. The only casualties seem to be on Yaroslava’s side. His two henchmen are dead, his daughter, her guards…

  I heave again and feel hands on my arms; when I see it’s Sargent I shove him away and shout, “Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t touch me.”

  “Tempest,” he tries. “I can explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I cry. “You’re disgusting… how could you?”

  “He didn’t have a choice,” Stone interrupts, defending Sargent like a typical guy.

  “There’s always a choice,” I hiss. He reaches for me again, his hand to my cheek and I almost vomit at the thought of where it’s just been. “No. Don’t.”

  “Tempest, please,” he whispers but is drawn away by Samuels.

  I’m guided away too for my statement and whatever the fuck else. I just want to be gone from here so badly.

  Sargent

  It’s done. The FBI have enough evidence to move in on the Russians. Stone who was wearing a wire has been cleared of all involvement and so have I. But I can’t celebrate. Seeing her face, her eyes as I came down those stairs. I broke her. Hell, the entire thing broke me.

  I feel as though I can’t breathe.

  These assholes move around my home, collecting bullets and other evidence.

  I’m done with them now; my life is my own again. No more feds, no more drugs, no more mafia, or what’s left of it now that the FBI and CIA have enough to get into Russia.

  Well, it’s mostly over.

  I move to where she’s standing, her jeans partly open since the button doesn’t keep the flaps together, her top crooked and off center with a rip up the side, her hair a mess and her eyes swollen from crying.

  My hand lingers in the space between us, she needs to accept my touch. I don’t want to upset her any more than she is already. “Temp…”

  “Maddox!” she cries and brushes past me and straight into the arms of my son.

  Maddox holds her, his chin atop of her head as she turns her face away from me. He doesn’t meet my eyes and I know why. He’s ashamed of what I’ve done. If only he knew it was the only way to keep him safe. I did my best. I wasn’t greedy, I paid my debts, I was just a naïve kid.

  “Maddox,” I try, brushing past Samuels who is trying to get my attention.

  “Not now, Dad,” Maddox replies, his eyes sad as they come t
o mine. “We’ll talk, but not now. Let me get her out of here.”

  “No,” I say firmly and grab his arm. “You’re not leaving, not until this is sorted and neither is she. I deserve the chance to explain myself.”

  “You will,” he replies gently as I resist the urge to thread my fingers through her hair and pull her into my arms. Doesn’t she see that I need her too? “Dad…”

  “I didn’t have a choice, Tempest,” I try again but she makes no movement to say she has heard me. “You have to believe me.”

  “Dad, not now,” Maddox barks. “Now isn’t the time.”

  Samuels, who has been a party to this one-sided conversation, hands a foil blanket to Maddox and helps him wrap it around her. She doesn’t look at me with her vacant eyes or broken expression, she looks at the bodies and then the couch and I beg her mentally to just look at me.

  Maddox leads her away with an agent hot on their heels. I wonder if I’ll ever see her smile at me again, if she’ll ever allow it. The thought burns my throat and eyes. Maddox will understand, perhaps he already does.

  “I kept him under witness protection until I figured out who I could trust,” Samuels explains looking around the room at his men.

  “You could have told me that.”

  “I couldn’t risk anything going wrong.”

  I can understand that.

  “He knows you were trying to get out of it. He’ll come around and so will she.”

  “I fucked another woman less than an hour after she left. She’s not coming back.”

  He shakes his head, his empathy apparent in his features. “If it’s worth fixing, then fix it.”

  “I’m free to leave?” I question, raising a brow as we meet eyes.

  “Go. Rest. Get your shit together. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  She left with Maddox who I soon found out had been put under protection by Samuels himself. That’s why we couldn’t find him.

  It’s done, but it isn’t. If only they hadn’t found her, she’d never have had to know. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t come, I didn’t enjoy it, I had to.

  Or maybe I didn’t.

  Fuck.

  She left in his arms, he carried her out of there as she sobbed against him. He didn’t even look at me, just took her and left and I could do nothing but watch.

  She deserves better than this, more than what I can give her.

  “Donate, destroy, and trash everything,” I tell Marcy who places a hand on my shoulder to comfort me.

  “Have you called her?” she asks, knowing about the situation as I told her during a drunken rambling last night.

  She’s the only person speaking to me. Cassius has served me with papers to buy me out of the Malibu business but won’t even look at me. Maddox won’t even reply to tell me where he or Tempest are and I know they’re together.

  I don’t know anything about anybody and nobody will talk to me.

  Nobody but Marcy.

  I sit on the sofa as strangers move around my home, carefully packaging salvageable equipment. I need out of this home. It’s beautiful but I need a fresh start. Everything reminds me of her. Everything reminds me of the deaths surrounding the choices I made as a teen.

  Marcy exits the house when one of the removal people call for her but she returns less than five minutes later and stands in the doorway. “You should see this, Sargent.”

  Sighing, I stand and grumble my way to her, wondering what else could be wrong with this fucking house.

  The pool is empty, the garden furniture is gone, but the art equipment remains. Or the easel does at least and what stands on it is a nearly finished painting of me, beautifully done with acrylics. Maddox is seven and sitting on my shoulders, leaning over to look at my face.

  I clear my throat to shift the lump that’s making it hard to breathe.

  “What shall we do with this?” Marcy asks softly.

  “Nothing, wrap it and store it. That’s one thing I’m not parting with.” It’s the most beautiful painting I have ever seen.

  God, I miss her. I miss them both.

  Marcy smiles knowingly. “He’ll call. He knows it’s not your fault. He’s just angry.”

  “I really made a mess of life, didn’t I?”

  “Yep, but you fixed it too… eventually.”

  “I fucked another woman and she caught me, I’d hardly call that fixing anything.”

  Marcy winces. “Just keep trying, she’ll reply one day.”

  “Maybe I should leave her be? She deserves better.”

  “Hello?” Marcy raises her hands at our surroundings. “That’s what you’re trying to do isn’t it?”

  I head back inside, grab my car keys off the counter and go. Not because I have anywhere to be but because I don’t and that’s extremely frustrating. I need to keep busy.

  Tempest

  It’s been a week and I’m still so jumpy, adrenaline still courses through my veins whenever the memory surfaces again. Which is often.

  People died. I don’t know how to live with that again and this time it wasn’t even my fault.

  There’s just so much going on. I’m busying myself with my art, trying to stay positive and normal for the most part. I’m going back to work for Devon next week. I’ve got a therapy session thanks to Maddox who won’t let me say no though I think his father is behind it.

  I just can’t talk to him yet. I don’t know how.

  I’m trying to understand it, to understand him but I can’t process it. He had sex with somebody else. Maybe it wasn’t for pleasure, maybe it was to keep me safe…

  I don’t blame him, not entirely, I just don’t know how to move past it.

  “That’s incredibly dark, Pest,” Maddox comments, looking over my shoulder at my unfinished drawing.

  “I had to get it out of my head.”

  Tucker’s legs peek out from beside the sofa. It’s drawn in dark colors, blends of grays and black with some white.

  “I get it.” Maddox places his hand on my shoulder. “Ice cream?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You’ve hardly eaten.”

  I shrug. “I’m not feeling great.”

  He sighs and sits on my bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Shaking my head, I put my pencil down and look at my gray-stained fingers. “Everything was so perfect and then suddenly… people died in front of me.”

  “I wish I’d sent you away first before calling the police.”

  “Me too,” I murmur, wetting my lips. “My period’s late. Really late. I don’t know if it’s the stress of everything or…”

  He doesn’t hesitate like I thought he would. There’s no judgment in his eyes either. “I’ll get you in with a doctor.”

  “No, I should speak to your dad. I just don’t know how to approach him. Whenever he calls I feel sick and just want to run away.”

  He pats the bed beside him but I decline, needing space right now.

  When there’s a knock on the door Maddox stands to open it and Cassius walks inside, a tray in his hands. “I come with coffee and snacks.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Uncle Cass,” Maddox says as the tray is placed on the table by my bed.

  “Don’t mention it.” He looks at my drawing. “That’s incredible. So dark… makes me feel uneasy.”

  “Sorry.”

  His chuckle is quiet but there. “Why are you apologizing? Art is supposed to make you feel things.” Then he clicks his fingers. “Actually, I know the owner of a gallery in the city who would probably love your work. I could put in a word if you like?”

  “I’ve asked so much of you already.”

  Maddox and he share a look which communicated things I don’t understand.

  He replies, “you haven’t asked me for anything. I’ll get bragging rights if you make it big time.”

  I finally smile, it’s weak but it’s real and my heart thumps a beat. “Thanks, Cassius. For everything.”

  Cassius put me and
Maddox up that very night. All Maddox did was show up on his doorstep. Cassius stepped to the side and we’ve been here ever since. He’s a great host, a lot nicer than Sargent was in the beginning but I’m finding it hard to bond and make an effort. I don’t feel good. Mentally, physically, emotionally.

  I’m broken right now.

  “Any time,” he replies, smiling brightly. He’s handsome, but he’s not Sargent. “Maddox, can we talk a moment?”

  Maddox nods and leaves my room. I continue drawing until my phone rings.

  Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

  I stare at his name on my phone and chew on the end of my pencil.

  Fuck it.

  “Hey, Sargent,” I say softly as I place my pencil down and breathe slowly.

  “Finally,” he responds, sounding so relieved I feel guilty for making him wait so long. “I’ve been worried.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, I just needed time.”

  He blows out a heavy breath. “I get that. I had so much to say and now I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “I don’t blame you for what happened to me. I want you to know that before you start saying whatever it is.”

  “What about with Nastya?” he asks cautiously but optimistically. “You have to know I didn’t want to do it. If it wasn’t for that herbal shit you got me for my birthday I never would have been able to.”

  I didn’t want to know that. “Sarge…”

  “No, Tempest, you have to believe that I wouldn’t do that. I’m not the kind of man that cheats on my woman.”

  “Was I your woman?”

  I hear him shift, as though changing positions. “What does that mean?”

  “It means…” I don’t even know what it means. “Why are you trying to get me to understand anything anyway?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re good together.”

  “That’s the only reason?” I just need him to say it. I need to hear the words.