Heart in Wire

by R. L. Griffin

  WOULD YOU KILL TO SAVE A LIFE?

  He woke up in Jesse’s guest room, which was bigger than Billy’s entire house. The reality of what he planned to do that day caused him to close his eyes again. He would do this. Patrick would make this right and move on, just like he planned. His strategy during the last month was to take steps toward this plan without actually thinking about the outcome. It was working so far, he didn’t have to think about how he would feel with Jamie’s blood on his hands, again, but now that it was go time, he was having trouble staying detached.

  It’s not that he had a problem shooting criminals, he’d been trained to do just that. It was the fact that Jamie used to ride with him to games and they’d sit together and talk about pitches. The fact that Jamie’s parents sort of adopted Patrick after his brother was shot and took him to every game because he was Jamie’s catcher. The relationship between a pitcher and catcher is hard to explain. The pitcher was the one who actually pitched, but the catcher was the brain behind the pitches. The catcher held the pitcher up, talked the pitcher through tough spots, and made the pitcher better. Patrick squeezed his eyes shut to ward off the reminder that he failed Jamie. He’d recruited him to the ATF and didn’t protect him.

  That’s not who he is anymore. Patrick couldn’t count how many times he’d had to say that to himself over the past year. Jamie isn’t Jamie anymore. Jamie Rivers is long gone.

  When he opened his eyes again, he took in the bold blue walls and masculine artwork. A mahogany desk sat in the corner, overlooking the golf course. The floors were hardwood, but looked almost black. There were several books on the bedside table, John Grisham and Brad Meltzer. He wondered if Millie had read them yet. One of his favorite things about her was how smart she was and that she was always reading something. Sometimes she’d read him really hot sex scenes in books and then they’d act them out.

  His most favorite thing about Millie was that she wasn’t jaded like he, Billy, and El were. She didn’t look at everything with tainted eyes. She trusted people and didn’t lie and expected others to do the same. He admired that trait about her and he wished it never changed.

  One of the things he’d miss the most about her were their conversations. They could talk about anything from one of her books to his ATF investigation. They were on the same side politically, but still had lively debates that sometimes Billy would join. He’d miss his life in DC.

  He would miss her…miss what he wanted to have with her, miss her touch and the easiness of being with her. Sighing, he got out of bed and walked down the hall into the kitchen, where he found a woman making coffee and egg whites. She was dressed in black slacks and a white button down shirt and made him feel uncomfortable in his t-shirt and grey sweatpants.

  “Mr. Greer, Mr. McIntyre wanted me to make you breakfast. He apologizes for having to be at the practice field for some of the day.” The woman’s black hair was pulled up into a bun, showing her kind eyes. “He also left this for you.” She pushed some papers at him and car keys.

  “What’s this?” Patrick wondered aloud, pulling the papers to him across the counter. It was a map with handwriting on it. He read it in disbelief. Jesse had gotten him a massage and was letting him drive one of his three cars, a BMW. This guy was nuts.

  The woman slid a plate across the counter at Patrick too, then a mug of coffee.

  “Thanks, Sandra.”

  Damn, he could get used to this. He sat down and forced everything out of his mind except for what would be done tonight. On Monday, he’d give his notice, accept the transfer, and would be headed back to Atlanta. El would be safe, they’d be even, and he would escape it all.

  “Mr. McIntyre, I have your VIP area right over here.” The hostess gave them a gigantic smile when they walked into the swanky nightclub where Jesse had planned his VIP party.

  They followed her back to an area that was already swarming with attractive women, all clad in very short, extremely tight things.

  Both he and Jesse were dressed in all black. He’d picked his outfit based on the ease of getting in and out of it, and it was dressy enough for this nightclub. Jesse had on a black button down shirt with sleeves that cuffed, showing a black and white design on the cuffs. They gave their coats to the hostess, who took them to the coat check. Patrick would have to suffer through the cold from the club to the car to the plane, but that was okay; he wanted to leave another little breadcrumb of his presence at the club.

  Yesterday morning he’d left a rental car in the parking deck of National Airport with everything he needed in the trunk.

  “Mr. McIntyre, is everything to your satisfaction?” a very voluptuous, exotic woman with long black hair asked him.

  “Sofia, it’s great to see you and yes, it’s great.” Jesse pulled the woman in for a hug. “This is my friend, Patrick. Get used to seeing him; he’s moving this way soon.”

  Patrick shook her hand and she smiled, giving him the once over.

  “It’s early for you tonight?” the woman said in question.

  “Oh, Patrick and I wanted to grab some food before the party and just figured we’d eat here,” Jesse answered.

  “Okay, well, Damon is going to be your personal server tonight, so if you need anything just ask him. Okay?”

  “What if I wanted you to be my personal server?” Jesse flirted.

  “Mr. McIntyre,” she slapped Jesse’s arm, “you’re a mess.”

  “What?” He feigned innocence. “Not me!”

  Patrick observed Jesse in awe; he had a charisma about him that drew people in. It also appeared to Patrick that Jesse was a pretty sincere person. El immediately liked Jesse (and she didn’t like anyone) and George trusted him as well. Even though he didn’t like George, he did seem to be a good judge of people.

  “I’ll serve you later.” She winked and left them in their VIP area.

  “Nice,” Patrick commented.

  “Very nice.” Jesse nodded. He turned toward the roped-off area, grinning, and walked into the VIP area. “LADIES!” he greeted them with open arms.

  Everyone crowded around him and Patrick understood immediately why Jesse was sort of a homebody; he had to rent out a room just to go out and not be bothered. Jesse got out his phone and started taking pictures of everyone, making sure he got some of Patrick for later.

  “Drink?” the server asked Patrick.

  “Yes, I’d like tonic water with a lime please.”

  The next hour was full of him and Jesse posing for pictures, not just with the people in the VIP area, but others in the club. Patrick tried to photo bomb all the pictures that others were taking of Jesse he could without being obnoxious; he knew these would be all over the internet soon enough.

  At 9:00 pm sharp, he walked out of the club and found Frank’s car waiting for him. It was just the beginning of a very long, fucked up night.

  All he felt was his heartbeat. He felt it in his eyes, in his chest, and in his head. He tried not to think about Jamie, about knowing Jamie basically his entire fucking life. Patrick kept reminding himself about what Jamie did to El and what he would do if he wasn’t stopped. He’d shot her, kidnapped her, and was coming back for more. If Patrick didn’t end this, Jamie would. He could tell in Jamie’s demeanor at the office and his fucking arrogance. He’d basically said as much too.

  Patrick didn’t know what exactly had happened to him while he was under, but he wasn’t the guy he grew up with. He wasn’t the guy who threw Patrick pitches all afternoon to perfect his curve ball. He definitely wasn’t the guy who’d moved to DC and proposed to his girlfriend.

  Patrick pulled onto the road one over from his house. He grabbed his old bat bag out of the trunk of the rental car and walked into the night between the houses, gently placing his bag down in the bushes directly across the street from his house. He crouched low to the ground and observed his surroundings. It was quiet and there was no one home in either house, which wasn’t surprising, it was a Friday night.

  From where
he was lying on the ground, he could make out El and Millie in the house when they would get up and do anything. They were watching a movie, just like he knew they’d be doing. Billy was out of town for work, although they told everyone it was for a wedding. Billy hadn’t been around too much the last month because of work, which was par for the course, but he missed Billy’s ability to calm him with just a one-liner.

  Patrick had dropped the hint in the office, bragging to everyone that Jesse McIntyre had invited him to Atlanta to party and he was going. He’d answered all his friends’ questions when Jamie was within earshot. No, Millie wasn’t going, it was boys only. He’d told everyone she’d be having a girls’ night of drinking and chick flicks with his old roommate; they all knew who El was, of course.

  He lay on the ground for over an hour before he saw him. It was fucking torture. He’d pulled a black wool cap over his head and had on gloves, but lying on the ground in thirty degree weather was fucking miserable and his thoughts were beginning to get to him; his common sense, drive for justice, and loyalty all warring each other in his mind. He closed his eyes and saw El in the hospital, and when he opened them, he saw Jamie’s car parked a few houses down. Jamie was sitting in the front seat still, looking straight ahead. He stayed that way for ten minutes, then he opened the door and put a handgun in the waistband of his pants at his lower back and began walking toward Patrick’s house. Jamie walked slowly and deliberately, but casually, until he stood right in front of Patrick’s house. Jamie peered in at the girls, at Patrick’s girls. Patrick tried to regulate his breaths and his heart rate. He tried not to think about anything other than the threat to his girls.

  Patrick already had his gun out, lined up, ready for the shot. He was hidden by the foliage at the side of the house directly across from his own house. He closed his eyes. He could do it. He had to do it. Then Jamie started moving toward the back of the house and was out of range. Motherfucker. Where was he going? He started to get up and move to follow him, but didn’t. He reminded himself to be patient. Jamie would have to come back out. Beads of sweat dropped from his brow onto his hand even though it was below freezing outside. Patrick pulled up his black wool cap so that it sat at the crown of his head. Slowly, he lowered his eyes and looked through the scope. A loud banging and then the sound of breaking glass jerked his head from the scope. The sound came from the back of the house where Jamie was, but Patrick wasn’t sure what he’d broken. When he swung his eyes to the window in the front of the house, he saw Millie standing up, fear evident in her features. She was pressing herself against the wall like she willed herself to disappear into it. He saw Jamie pass her and take a gulp of wine straight from the bottle. Then he lost Jamie, he’d moved out of line with the window. Patrick’s hands shook with...he didn’t know what emotion—fear, anticipation, hatred? He urged himself to calm down, to breathe. His training kicked in and felt his nerves dissipate, his mind went numb and all emotion left him.

  All of a sudden, he saw Jamie pick El up and throw her on the floor like she was nothing. Millie screamed. Her mouth gaped open and she sagged against the wall, staring down where he imagined El lay. Jamie picked El off the floor roughly and he could see the bastard dragging her to the front door. He couldn’t quite see El’s face, her features and terror were hidden from him, which was probably a good thing; it would’ve distracted him. She’d been through so much, and now this… He shook his head at all thoughts. He would end this now. For her and for everyone.

  He couldn’t believe the fucker was just going to drag her out the front fucking door. Adrenaline coursed through Patrick; his eyes hurt from his heartbeat pounding in them. His anxiety was rising because he couldn’t get a clear shot. Fuck. He’d have to wait until he opened the door. Just then, El pushed way from Jamie hard enough that he shifted to the right, away from her, and Patrick took the shot, just like he was trained to.

  The only thing he heard was El’s scream. It was painful to hear; it pierced his heart while he was packing up his gun in his bat bag. El’s scream cut off suddenly and he almost looked back, but didn’t. He rushed back to his car.

  His hands shook as he drove the rental to the airport. Shit, his entire body shook with the knowledge that he’d killed Jamie. The Jamie that was his teammate, his roommate, his friend. The Jamie that he’d recruited. If he thought about it, Patrick had set this entire thing in motion. No, he couldn’t allow those thoughts right now. Get to the plane first, then fall the fuck apart.

  The drive was a blur. He turned up the music, trying not to see the blood that had exploded from Jamie’s head or hear the scream that escaped El’s lips.

  Patrick’s hand trembled as he opened the car door. He slumped into the seat and looked at Frank. Frank only nodded.

  He’d changed back into his clothes for the nightclub in a bathroom at the National Airport. El’s scream still rang in his ears. He’d gotten a text from another ATF agent that they were reporting a shooting at the FBI Beauty’s former home during the flight and a call from a very shaken Millie shortly after. He told her he would fly back in the morning and not to stay at the house and, for once, she listened to him and took El to George’s.

  Ten minutes later they were headed back downtown to hook up with Jesse. The nightclub didn’t close until 4:00 am, so he had thirty minutes to get more pictures and drink himself into oblivion.

  When Frank pulled to the side of Thirteenth Street, Patrick leaned to open the door and Frank got out too. Patrick looked over the car at Frank, wondering what he was doing. Frank met Patrick as he got to the sidewalk and embraced him.

  “Thank you, Patrick.” Frank’s muffled voice pulled at a cord that if he kept pulling, Patrick knew he would completely unravel.

  Patrick nodded, separating himself.

  Frank pulled him back into him. “You saved her life. Thank you. I can never repay you.”

  Patrick stepped back and shook his head. There was nothing to repay. He took Jamie’s life to save El’s. It was done. A clean slate for her.

  “Frank, it’s not about that. If…he would’ve killed her. Tonight,” Patrick said in a low voice, trying to keep his emotions in all their boxes. He wasn’t making sense and he didn’t trust that he could talk more and not lose it.

  Frank patted Patrick on the back. “You’re the son I always wanted.”

  FUCK! Patrick was about to lose his shit, but he couldn’t. He had to walk into this club and act like he’d been drinking and partying all night. He couldn’t lose it. He nodded and walked as quickly as he could into the club.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SECOND PLACE IS THE FIRST LOSER

  He heard from Millie again a few hours later and got the whole story. Jamie had attacked them at the house. Harris showed up, they left, and now El was missing. They’d gone to George’s after the shooting and when Millie woke up, El was gone. She’d left Millie and George each notes saying leaving was all she could do. Patrick didn’t know what to think. She’d known what they had to do, but maybe she couldn’t handle it. Maybe after all she’d been through, this would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  Jesse was sitting in a leather chair, staring out the window, when Patrick made an appearance.

  “I need you to take me to a rental car place,” Patrick said.

  “Why?” Jesse asked, already getting up.

  “El’s gone. She left Millie asleep at George’s last night and she left.”

  “Left…”

  “She left notes to Millie and George; she left and isn’t coming back.”

  “Aw fuck.” Jesse shot out of the chair and hurried up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  Patrick waited. A few minutes later, Jesse ran down the stairs with this phone and wallet. They rushed to Jesse’s car and drove to a rental car place a few miles from Jesse’s house. Jesse pulled into a parking space and Patrick opened the door to get out, turning to thank him.

  Jesse put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Patrick…you saved her
. Thank you.”

  “Well, I did what was necessary. He was going to kill her last night. He beat the fuck out of her before I got a shot off.”

  “Shit.” Jesse shook his head. “Listen, my house is open. I’m hardly here after the season. You can stay until you figure out where you want to live.”

  Patrick’s eyes widened at the invitation. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. I know how you feel about her and I know you’re trying to get away from it. You can stay with me if you want.”

  Patrick didn’t respond. How the hell did Jesse know how he felt about El? “Thanks,” he muttered and then walked into the car rental, knowing exactly where he needed to go to find her.

  Patrick called Millie’s cell on the way to North Carolina. He knew just where El would be, he could feel it.

  “Hey, babe,” he said when she picked up.

  “Hey, you on your way home?” Her words were shaky, she was still emotional from last night.

  “Um, I think I know where El is. I’m following a hunch, and then I’ll be there.” He took an exit that headed to the Outer Banks.

  Silence.

  “Mil?” He checked his phone to see if he’d cut her off. “You there?”

  “Oh, Patrick,” she sighed into the phone. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said, her voice full of resignation.

  The pit of his stomach clenched. “Do what?”

  “Listen, I love you and I love El. But I will not be second in line to anyone, even her.” The phone went dead. Fuck.

  Patrick tried to call her back a number of times. She texted him instead.

  I’m moving my shit out. Hopefully before you get back. Give el my love

  Patrick knew they were going to end, but he didn’t want it to end like this. He responded.

  Don’t do this

  Millie responded immediately.

  I have to

  He threw his phone in the passenger seat. He cared about Millie. Fuck. He reached over to his passenger seat and called Billy.