Edge of Sight

by Roxanne St Claire

  “No one at all?”

  “Well, none of the good guys.” He cocked his head. “Which I was.”

  “Still are,” she said softly. “Even if you blow up paint factories.”

  “Past tense. I’m not blowing shit up anymore.”

  “But you’re still one of the good guys.” She gave him a teasing smile. “You’re one of the Guardian Angelinos.”

  He snorted softly. “You and my sister.”

  “Me and your sister what?” He heard the laughing tease in her voice and stole a glance. Her eyes were glinting like sapphires.

  “You feel better already, don’t you, Sam?”

  “I always feel better when I get here.” She waved toward the building.

  “Yeah, nothing like a paint factory to put you in a great mood.”

  She laughed again. “I know I’m going to see Billy. And that just makes me happy.”

  A spark of jealousy flared, surprising him with its strength. “You like him that much?”

  “I love him,” she said, throwing propane on his sparks.

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. How can I not? I basically destroyed the man’s life, stole his days and nights, and put him in a prison for ten years, and now that he’s out, he calls me buttercup.”

  “Buttercup?” He practically choked on the fumes of jealousy now. “You?”

  She punched him softly. “You don’t have to sound so stunned that a man would call me a pet name.”

  “I’m not. I called you plenty.”

  “But not for the same reason.”

  God, he hoped not. “What’s his reason?”

  She nodded toward the factory. “Let him tell you.”

  At the doors, a group of men exited, all wearing charcoal jumpsuits, carrying masks and lunchboxes, deep in conversation. Of the six or seven of them, some big, some old, some black, some white, one who apparently called Sam Fairchild buttercup. Zach had seen pictures when he did his Internet research, but couldn’t pick him out from this distance.

  “Can I go get him? He won’t know your car.”

  One more glance around, using the sixth sense he’d honed on hundreds of patrols. “Yeah, but I’ll go with you.”

  The tiniest flicker of panic flashed in her eyes. “No, he won’t know who you are.”

  Was she that ashamed of how he looked? The scar burned just from the rise of blood to his face. “I’m sure he saw worse than me in prison.”

  “I just wanted to… talk to him first. Tell him… who you are.” She actually seemed a little panicked.

  “I’ll introduce myself.” He flipped open his door and stood, watching over the roof as she did the same, her expression wary as she came around the car.

  The men looked up at the sound and Sam waved. “Hey, Billy.”

  A few of the men said something, laughed, and then one broke away from the group, beaming at her. One of the black men, slight in build, with threads of gray in close-cropped hair. As Billy got closer, Zach could make out a gold tooth in the front of his mouth, and some deep black pigmentation marks on milk chocolate skin.

  A very distinctive-looking man who would be hard to mistake for another, he thought as Sam approached him.

  Billy’s attention shifted from her to Zach, and he slowed his step noticeably. He didn’t care, except that Sam saw the faltering step, too. He hated when people reacted to his wound that way.

  “Hey, Billy, surprise.”

  “Well, look at you!” Billy reached for Sam and gave her a gentle hug. “This is a gift from God, I tell you. I can’t wait to get home, and I just didn’t want to ride those stinky buses.” He turned to Zach and stepped back, taking him in.

  “Billy, this is—”

  “I know who it is.”

  He did? Sam said nothing, her smile tight.

  “I recognize him.”

  Zach felt his jaw go slack. “You do?”

  “Don’t remember the fella’s name,” he said, stroking a nonexistent beard.

  “Zach,” Sam supplied quietly. “His name is Zach.”

  “That’s right.” Billy pointed to him. “Angel or Angelo or—”

  “Angelino.” Zach reached out a hand. “I’m afraid I don’t remember meeting you, Billy.”

  They shook and Billy revealed his gold tooth, with a crucifix carved in it. “We’ve never met, but Samantha here told me all about you.”

  She did? An unfamiliar jolt slid through Zach, something that might be described as… a thrill.

  “Billy,” she said softly, a warning in her tone. What was she warning him about? Something not to say? Some secret they’d shared? About him?

  “Well, you did tell me all about him. Why lie, buttercup? Can’t lie when Jesus is watching. And He is watching.” He put a hand holding a gas mask on her back and one with a soft-sided lunchbox on Zach’s, inching them toward the car. “We’ve had a lotta long talks these past few years, and my friend Samantha told me all about the boy who went to war and forgot about her. What got you? Shrapnel? IED?”

  It was Zach’s turn to hesitate on the next step. “I didn’t forget about her.”

  “No? Then what the hell happened to you? Other than a run-in with an ambitious explosive? No eye under there? That’s a heck of a scar.”

  Zach peered right over Billy’s head at Sam, who, son of a bitch, looked miserable. No damn wonder she wanted to “warn” Billy who he was meeting. She wanted to tell him not to talk.

  But Zach wanted him to talk. Wanted to know everything Sam had said about him.

  “That’s correct, sir, no eye,” he replied. “I’m sorry but the mission was classified.”

  “Oh, classified.” Billy drew the word out to many syllables, making a playful mocking face to Sam. “Is the reason you never called Miss Samantha Fairchild classified, too?”

  “No,” he said simply. “That was just… stupid.”

  “Yes, it was, son,” Billy said. “Damn stupid. This your car? That thing’s almost as old as I am.”

  “Not quite,” Zach said. “But it makes as much noise.”

  Billy chuckled, and didn’t shut up from Revere to Roxbury, but, thank Christ, he stopped talking about all of Zach’s shortcomings. Especially once Sam brought up the subject of his work attendance.

  Billy turned from the front passenger seat, where she’d insisted he sit, to glare at her. “Adam Bonner is and always has been a man who lives to make trouble.”

  “On the contrary, Billy, he wants to help you. He helped you get this job and if you’re not showing up—”

  “I had one sick day, Sam, and I was really sick. Diarrhea like you ain’t never seen. I’m sorry, honey, don’t make the face. It’s the truth; you can ask Alicia. She was there, holding my hand through the whole thing.”

  “That’s true love,” Sam said. “But Adam made your work absences seem more chronic, Billy. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  “I was just promoted to varnish batch loader, buttercup! Would they do that if they thought I had a problem showing up for work? Do you know how important that job is on the line?”

  “No, but I believe you. I just wondered if everything’s okay.”

  “More than okay,” he assured her. “ ’Specially now that I know you got your main squeeze back.”

  Zach spared a glance in the rearview mirror to get her reaction to that, but her attention was still on Billy. “You sure? Did you pop the question to Alicia yet?”

  He sighed heavily. “I’m… thinking about it.”

  “Billy,” she admonished. “She’s a wonderful woman. Don’t let her go. Don’t pass up the opportunity of a lifetime. You’ll never find another one like her. Ask her tonight?”

  He smiled. “She’s down in Natchez seeing her mama right now, but she’ll be back in a week or so. Anyway, I’m just waiting on the Good Lord to give me a sign. I just haven’t seen it yet.”

  “Well, don’t wait for her to pack up and move out as your sign, Billy. It’ll be too late to
get her back.” Sam sat back, still scowling at him. “And go to work every single day. Even if you have to drink Pepto-Bismol.”

  He laughed at her and pointed toward the next intersection. “Turn right here, son, and head on up the hill to the last little house on the right. That’s my home.” He lit up with pride. “That I would never be living in, with my Alicia and my brand-new Barcalounger, if it weren’t for this young lady right here.”

  “Billy.” Sam leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “You know how I feel when you say that.”

  “You feel like you screwed up my life more than you helped it. Let go, Sam. Do me a favor and go be the best damn attorney in Boston. There you go, drop me off here. Thank you, Zaccaria.”

  She’d told him his full name, too? “No problem.”

  Billy unlatched his seatbelt and climbed out slowly, blowing a kiss to Sam. “If I do marry her, you’ll be my best man, right?”

  Sam laughed, opening her door to get into the front seat. “Of course. That’s why I want you to pop the question.”

  “Then I just might.” He motioned Zach. “Walk me to the door, young man.”

  Zach hesitated a second, but the neighborhood seemed very quiet and empty, and he’d watched every possible car on the way. They hadn’t been followed. He got out and came around to the side to walk with Billy.

  “You listen to me, and you listen good,” Billy said, his voice low and stern. “That one there…” He pointed over his shoulder. “Is the real keeper. Be good to her. Promise me.”

  Zach wet his lips and swallowed. “She’s in good hands, I assure you.”

  Billy leaned closer, putting a bony hand on Zach’s arm, narrowing ebony eyes and staring right into Zach’s good one. “You better promise me because I’m not afraid to be back on the inside. So believe me when I say if you hurt her again, I really will kill you.”

  Zach said nothing, facing down a man half his weight and size, and, oddly, feeling a little intimidated. He shook it off. “I understand that.” But no promises.

  Billy wasn’t having it. “It’s your business if you don’t want to marry her, son. God knows I understand the weight of that decision. But here’s what I’m asking, and I want your word of honor sworn on the graves of whatever men died by your side the day you lost that eye.”

  His gut clenched. “There were five of them,” he said solemnly. “What do you want me to swear to?”

  “Tell her why.”

  “Why.”

  “You know what I mean. Tell that woman why you walked away and left her behind.”

  “Billy, it was…” How could he tell this old man it was “just sex”? He wouldn’t do anything to damage his impression of Sammi, and this guy would never understand.

  “On the souls of the men who died beside you,” Billy said. “All five. You tell her. And you tell her tonight.”

  Billy’s eyes bored a hole in him. “I swear,” Zach whispered.

  “There’s a shortcut right past that driveway,” Billy said, looking satisfied as he pointed in the other direction. “Road’s a little ragged, hill’s a little steep, but it’ll take you back down to Tremont a lot faster than turning around. Very, very few people know the shortcut. But tell Sam not to attempt it alone; it’s too steep for her.”

  His affection for Sam was evident with every word and the look in his eyes when he waved one more time to her. “I love that girl, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Zach just looked at him, the question not clear. Did he know or did he love her? “Yes,” he answered, and that seemed to work.

  “God bless you both,” Billy said quietly, then headed into the one-story clapboard house.

  Zach watched him go inside, then returned to the car, slipping behind the wheel without looking at Sam. What had he just promised?

  “See why I love him?” she asked.

  “I see that it’s mutual.”

  “I’m so lucky he’s forgiven me. More than forgiven me, if that’s possible. He’s… well, he’s a changed man, too.”

  Zach just nodded as he pulled out, studying the route Billy had suggested and the sign at the end of the street that said “Dead End.”

  “Where are you going?” Sam asked.

  “He said it’s a shortcut.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “He doesn’t want you to. Not safe enough.”

  “He’s very protective.”

  “I could tell.”

  She laughed softly, pulling her seatbelt as though it constricted her. “I just texted Adam back to find out what’s the deal with one day off. Billy wouldn’t lie.” She gave him a long look. “Are you okay?”

  Was he? “Yeah. Fine.”

  “You know, I tried to head that off at the pass. I didn’t…” She took a breath and let it out very slowly. “I didn’t really want you to know I talked about you that much.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out.” He found the shortcut and followed it down a long, steep hill, surprised that it led right into Tremont, silent while the last hour of conversation—mostly the last few minutes—replayed in his head.

  Sam said nothing, facing her window.

  The silence was so thick it hurt. He broke it. “Sam, it’s been three years… and…”

  He could practically feel her stiffen in anticipation. Where did he start? How did he say this?

  He had to. After all, he’d just sworn on the souls of five men.

  “Yes?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.

  “Why aren’t you seeing someone by now?”

  “Well…” She laughed softly. “I almost had a date this afternoon with a nice lawyer, but you had to go and ruin it by telling me he had a wig on.”

  He couldn’t smile. It mattered too much. “Sam, did you… did you really think you were in love with me?”

  A soft flush colored her cheeks. “Come on, drive home. I’m dying to see what Uncle Nino cooked.”

  “Sam.”

  She let out a slow, soft sigh. “I told you that morning you left, Zach. I loved you.”

  For one crazy second, he had that sense of déjà vu again. The blue tiles. The food smells. Aldo.

  “I always think love… is going to end,” he admitted. “So maybe I just made sure it happened sooner rather than later.”

  She just stared at him. “You know, as explanations go, that was crap.”

  Yeah, it was. But at least he didn’t have to worry about those five souls he’d just sworn on. He’d kept his promise.

  CHAPTER 14

  When the gold 300E pulled up to Shawkins’s house, the Czar smiled to himself in congratulations. Damn, he was good. He had had a hunch that she’d go tracking him down at work after he sent that text, and he was right about the guy he’d seen her with at the police station. Muscle. Muscle in an old-school Mercedes.

  And here she was, bringing Billy Shawkins home exactly as he hoped she would.

  Of course, he hoped she’d get out of the car, go inside for coffee, and let him climb in the back to wait and blow both her and her bodyguard’s brains out when she returned. And make it look like Bad Billy had done the deed. Who’d believe that ex-con anyway? It would have been an open and shut case. Of course, Shawkins had been harboring hatred for years and finally lost it—that bitch put him in prison for ten years for a crime he didn’t commit.

  It would have been nice and easy. But Levon’s life was just never that easy.

  However, this new wrinkle was tempting his trigger finger. If that big ugly guy with the patch stood out there and shot the shit with the ex-con any longer, Levon could fire from where he sat, a few driveways away. Bang. One to Samantha’s brain while she climbed out of the backseat and got into the front.

  But he couldn’t take a chance with that guy. No doubt he was carrying, and his posture screamed military even if his hair didn’t. Definitely military, with the war wound to prove it.

  Levon smiled, the thought r
eminding him of his favorite song. Levon wears his war wound like a…

  Levon stopped humming when the old man started toward the house, watching as Beauty and the Beast talked, then backed out. Should he just shoot now? Bodyguard would have to tend her, and Levon could get away. But, still, it was sloppy. And she might not die.

  Anyway, that approach was kind of sophomoric. The same kind of shit they were attempting with that bogus drive-by in Somerville last night. He had to do this the right way, and that meant he had to be a little patient and a lot creative.

  They’d go right by him now, back the way they came. Then he’d pull out, just like any other person leaving their driveway, and keep a good long distance to follow.

  It was time to find out where Samantha Fairchild was spending her nights.

  But, son of a bitch, the Mercedes went the other direction. That was a dead end. He waited for them to turn around, but the gold sedan disappeared around the corner, and he lost sight of it completely.

  God damn it, there was a way out back there. Not on any GPS, and he’d checked three. He gunned it out of the driveway, past Billy’s house, cruising to the top of a hill that was paved but hadn’t seen an asphalt truck in a long time. It was a steep pitch, too, probably a bear in the winter. Halfway down, he cold see the Mercedes.

  If they saw him, he could be marked. This was a little-known street, obviously some back route she knew about from being a regular visitor. He started down the hill, committed now. He drove closer, wanting to follow, but not be seen.

  The Mercedes’s brake lights flashed, and Levon considered backing up, but that would also put him on their radar. He just needed to go very slowly, let them get ahead, and then follow carefully.

  But the Mercedes had stopped.

  Levon let the truck drift a few more feet.

  The Mercedes still didn’t move. And worse, Levon was in their view now. He tried to slow down, stay back, but it was too late.

  Patch peered in his rearview, and Samantha turned around, only to have the driver push her deeper down in the seat for cover.

  Oh, fuck it all. His pulse quickened and his palms sweated on the steering wheel. A rarity for the Czar; but then, so was stupidity.