by K. S. Thomas
More interesting than that is the complete silence coming from the warehouse. The only time it’s been this quiet out here since Marcus moved in is during their sleeping hours when no one’s around. And he’s still here. His car is parked exactly where it was earlier, before his company showed up. Rediger’s is here too.
Still hidden in the shadows of the awning, I take a moment to collect my thoughts. Then the door to the warehouse swings open, and the man I currently hate most in world walks out in a hurry, straight for his car. He doesn’t even bother with his headlights until he’s nearly out of sight, heading down the main road into town.
I wait. My brother should be out any second now. He’s the last one left. Last one in that building. Unless it really was a gun shot, and he’s dead.
Lucas
“Heartbreaker went to check out the noise,” Sketch yells into my ear as soon as I answer.
“Fuck!” I swing the door open and start running as soon as my feet hit the pavement. I don’t even wait to explain to Memphis, I just go. “That was a fucking gunshot. Why the hell did you let her leave the building?! I thought the deal was nobody leaves until after everyone is out of there.” That’s what we agreed to, the compromise she insisted on when I tried to get them all to clear out earlier.
“You’re the genius sleeping with her. If you don’t know by now that she’ll stroll into the lion’s den without blinking to save someone she loves, then I don’t fucking know what to tell you.”
“I’m almost there. Nobody else goes outside, you hear me?!” Sketch isn’t that different from Liv. She’ll go in the lion’s den too, she just won’t be as quiet about it.
Heavy footsteps behind me remind me I have a friend just like Liv’s. He catches up and gestures for us to cut around the left to get to the warehouse. It seems like the longer way from here, but it’ll give us a better vantage point when we round the corner.
I catch a brief glimpse of her wild hair as it flies inside the doorway to the warehouse. I curse under my breath and speed up even more. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Why couldn’t I have fallen for a sweet girl, who likes walks on the beach and going to the movies? Safe shit like that.
I count the seconds before I’m inside as well, Memphis right behind me. It’s dark inside. Darker even than it was a moment ago. Not a single light is lit and there are no windows in this part of the building. Then I see her bright pink shirt glowing in the open room ahead of me.
She’s hunched over on the ground, mumbling frantically to herself.
“Who is that? Is it Marcus?” Memphis slows down beside. That’s when I notice she’s not talking to herself. There’s someone lying on the ground at her feet. Her hands are pressed to his chest and her body rises and falls with each silent sob. My mind is still taking everything in when Memphis lights up the screen of his phone, and there are no more questions left for either of us to ask.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Heartbreaker
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “Tell me what to do.” He told me he’d die for her. He said it, and now I can’t help but wonder if he knew all along it would come to that.
“Get out of here.” His voice is wheezy and laced with pain. Blood is drenching his shirt and no matter how hard I lean into the pool of red flowing out of him, no amount of pressure will make it stop.
“Move.” Lucas orders and I do. I don’t even question where he came from. I already knew he would show, was counting on it, if I’m honest.
I watch as he strips out of his own shirt, bundles it up and presses it down against my brother’s chest. Memphis is kneeling on the ground across from him, holding the light so Lucas can see what he’s doing. My brother’s lids continue to flutter, his irises making brief appearances every now and again, assuring me he’s still alive. Still conscious. But for how long?
I hear footsteps. Lots of them. Fast ones. Light ones. Like high heels. Next, I’m surrounded. “Oh my God,” Princess gasps, dropping down to her knees beside me.
A hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it tight. Sketch.
Mouth doesn’t stop. Not until she reaches Marcus. “Is he conscious?”
“Yeah. Looks like the bullet went straight through,” Lucas explains, lifting his shoulder to show her the wound.
“We need to get him out of here.” She gestures for Memphis and Lucas to pick him up. “We can go to my place. It’s close and no one will look for him there.”
“He needs a hospital,” I force out through clenched teeth. I hate this. All of this. If we’re all going down in flames, he at least has to survive this, if for no other reason but to have to live with the guilt for as long as humanly possible.
“No,” my brother grunts in pain. “No, hospital. Just leave me.”
“Get his feet,” Lucas says, completely ignoring my brother’s request and mine.
Memphis complies and Mouth walks along beside them, holding the soaked t-shirt in place. She looks straight at me, “I’ll call my grandpa. He’ll meet me at my place, no questions asked. He’ll fix him, you’ll see.” The self-taught jungle doc from Guatemala. God, who knew that connection would come in handy someday?!
Princess and I huddle together, using each other to help get us back to our feet. “I’m going with you.”
“I’ll take you,” Sketch promises, “but first we need to clean this up.” She points at the mess of blood on the floor. “Before Rediger’s clean-up crew show’s up.”
“What?”
“She’s right,” Princess agrees, moving like she’s suddenly on a mission. “If they’re gonna be short a body, least we can do is confuse them a bit. We get lucky enough, maybe they’ll just assume someone else got there first. Either way, I doubt people in the business of cleaning up after cold-blooded murders are big on drawing attention to themselves when they fuck up. Marcus lays low long enough, maybe they’ll just figure he’s dead and floating in the ocean, you know, sleeping with the fishes, so to speak.”
“I can’t believe you gave me shit about blood colored mob cars earlier,” Mouth calls back just as they’re leaving the building.
Princess just shrugs and turns her attention back to Sketch. “Mop, wipes and trash bags. Anything else?”
“That ought to do it.” They both start walking, dragging me along.
“Covering up an attempted murder. That’s like, a crime, right?” I clarify, just in case no one else is aware.
“Yeah. Tampering with evidence, hindering an investigation, obstruction of justice, take your pick. I’m pretty sure they all apply.” Sketch holds the door for us. “Of course, the few years in jail we could wind up with if we get caught will still be nothing compared to what Rediger and his dudes will do to us if they find out.”
“Oh, goody.” We’re on a roll here.
Clean up after a crime scene, shockingly, turns out not to be all that different than clean up after a session. Sure, there is considerably more blood involved, but all in all, the process is pretty much the same. By the time we’re done, the place is cleaned to hospital standards and I can’t help but wonder if the jungle doc has access to the same cleaning supplies, or even feels the need for them.
When Sketch winds up stepping on the bullet casing, I almost feel like our luck is changing. If we get out of here without leaving any evidence behind, we just might make it out this whole thing alive after all.
We’re just locking up the shop out front when we see a gray van with its headlights out coming up the backroad and turning into the complex.
“Go, go, go,” I urge both girls under my breath. No one says anything else. We all know where we’re going.
We meet back up at Mouth’s apartment fifteen minutes later. We all took alternate routes. We didn’t even discuss that ahead of time, that’s how in sync we are with our life of crime now. It just came naturally. I scoff at the thought and lift my hand to knock.
The door swings open before my knuckles even make contact with the wood.
> “Thank God,” Lucas sighs, wrapping me in his arms the second he sets his eyes on me.
As soon as I’m folded into his chest, I decide I never want to leave. This place, this safe little cocoon, will do me just fine for the rest of my life. Then I remember what’s left on the outside.
“How’s my brother?”
“Better.” Mouth shows up in the hall behind us. “Now get inside and close the door. You’re letting all the bugs in.”
“Doc says the bullet didn’t damage anything major. He lost a lot of blood though, and without a transfusion, he’s gonna be out of it for a long while, recouping. He’s passed out right now. Probably sleep through the night,” Lucas fills me as we walk through the apartment to Mouth’s bedroom.
My brother looks dead, lying there, barely breathing and white as a fucking skeleton. I’ve imagined this moment. Had nightmares like it. He’s given me plenty of reasons to over the years, but still, some part of me always convinced the rest that it would never really happen. That this was just part of his path, winding and narrow as it might be at times. It always kept going. I’m undecided tonight whether I was right or not. He’s still here, but how far beyond this night does the path he’s on really stretch anymore? And how many of us are on it with him after this?
“Here.” Mouth hands me a throw pillow from the couch and an old quilt. “I don’t have much in the way of extra beds, but there’s plenty of floor space to go around.”
“Thank you.” And I don’t just mean for the pillow, but I don’t have the strength left to verbalize any of it. I don’t have to. It’s Mouth. She knows.
Holding onto Lucas’s arm, I slide down to the floor taking him with me. Together we sit, him leaning against the dresser, me cradled into his chest, both of us facing the bed and my brother in it.
The small room seems crowded now that I’m looking around. Everyone’s in here, curled up on the ground, resting against walls and furniture. They’re all staying. For Marcus. For me.
Memphis clears his throat, breaking the sullen silence sinking in around us all. “Who’s going to tell her?”
“Tell who what?” It’s me. I’m her. I know that. I just really, really don’t want to be anymore.
“We know why Marcus was shot,” Mouth explains as Lucas holds me tighter. “That Rediger dude found out he was selling his half of the place back to you and he didn’t like it. Said he didn’t give two shits about the money Marcus owed, there was no way he was giving up the goldmine Marcus handed him with the club. Marcus argued, said there was nothing he could do, a deal was a deal. Rediger would get his money and then the club would be done. Then Rediger pulled the gun...”
“Oh.” It’s over. Everything is over. We’ve lost.
“It’s not the end yet.” Lucas’s calm voice warms my ear and soothes my soul, even if I don’t believe the words he’s saying.
“It is. This was our shot, this was the way to get him out and it didn’t work. We don’t have a backup plan...and now, now that we’ve gotten ourselves so thoroughly involved, we can’t even go to the cops.”
Sketch shakes her head at me from across the room. “That was never an option anyway. Face it. Rediger was always going to win.”
“What if he loses?” Lucas asks like it’s an actual possibility.
“What are you talking about? There’s nothing left for him to lose. It’s over. As far as he’s concerned, Marcus is dead.”
“But then wouldn’t you inherit everything back anyway?” Princess interjects.
“No. Not if Rediger has it in writing that they’re business partners. Even if Marcus never signed anything like that, I don’t imagine it’ll take this guy long to forge what he needs to keep business going.” Memphis is talking to the room, but his stare is set right above my left shoulder. Whatever he just told us, he was saying something completely different to Lucas.
“I’m talking about the fights. That’s where he’s making all his money, right? What if he stops winning?”
“He won’t. Fights are fixed. I’d think you’d remember that. You seemed so impressed with that fact last time we spoke,” Marcus mumbles, his eyes still closed and I almost have to appreciate that he can insert sarcasm, even in the most inappropriate of times, even while barely conscious.
“Fights are fixed. Fighters aren’t.”
I turn back to face Lucas, my eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”
He leans back, clearly dreading this next part of our conversation. “The fights are fixed because they market this shit to kids with no experience. No one can take down the steroid injected beast they set them up against. At least, no one until now.”
It takes exactly one heartbeat before it all becomes crystal clear to me. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late. I already thought about it. That was my plan A. Then I found out I could pay him off and get rid of him that way,” he gestures at my brother, “but now I’ve got Rediger to deal with and my money isn’t enough to entice him. But I don’t have to buy him off. I can bury him instead. With Memphis.”
“Memphis?” Sketch is back in the conversation.
“Don’t even look at me like that. I’m in this. I’m doing what needs to be done.” He glares at Sketch and she turns her lips inward until her mouth is nothing but a straight white line across her face.
“What happens to Rediger if his guy loses?” I ask the obvious question.
The room is silent for a long minute. No one says a word. Finally, my brother’s mouth begins to move even if his eyes still never even open. “He disappears. One way or another.”
There’s no mistaking what he’s implying.
Lucas
We’ve barely spoken in two days. There’s been plenty of ranting, yelling and silent treatment, but no talking. Not between us. Not as long as we disagree on this. I don’t try to argue my side. She’ll never admit it, but I know that she understands why I’m doing this. Why Memphis is doing this. It doesn’t make her like it any more. So, letting her go through every level of battle with me to try and stop me is the only thing I have to offer in comfort until this is all over.
“You’re seriously starting to scare me, Lucas.” I know by her heightened pitch, it’s true. I wish like hell it wasn’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Not now. This thing, this scary thing, has to be done. It’s the only way I can guarantee she’s safe. And not just for now.
“Listen to me.” I cup her face carefully between my palms and direct her eyes to meet mine. “I know what I’m doing. Memphis knows what he’s doing. Nothing is going to happen to either one of us. We’re going go in, sign up to fight, and then we’re going to put a stop to all of this once and for all.”
“But what if you’re wrong? What if you lose? Or worse, what if you have to fight each other?! Or some innocent kid who doesn’t know his head from his ass?” The agitation in her voice is growing with each question she pelts at me.
“I’m not wrong. I won’t lose. If Memphis and I have to fight each other, we’ll put on a good show until one of us bows out. If we have to fight the idiot kids before we get to the beast, all the better. We know how to take ‘em out and not kill ‘em. I’d think you’d be in favor of that.”
Her hands fly up to my chest, pushing away from me hard. “I’d be in favor of you not getting killed. That’s what I’d be in favor of.”
“Liv –“
“No! Don’t you Liv me, you ass. Who the hell told you this was okay? Huh? Showing up here after all these years? Insisting I fall for your idiot immature ass in spite of my better judgement? Swooping in to save me every fucking time I fall? No one! No one told you to do that. No one wanted you to. You did it anyway. Well congratu-fucking-lations. I’m in love with you now. Why put me through all of that torture just to up and get yourself killed?”
“You just said you love me.” If she were anyone else, that would be the worst thing in the world to point out right now, but it’s not anyone else. It’s Liv. I know
how to push her buttons. All of them. Including those that help diffuse her.
“That wasn’t meant to be romantic, Lucas. This is not a romantic moment. This is a fight. A big, nasty fight. Get with the program. I could be on the verge of dumping your ass.” But she’s already losing some of the fear that previously oozed out of every part of her. Her strength is coming back. It always does when she starts feeling snappy with me. We may need couple’s therapy down the road.
“Really? You’re going to tell me you love me and break up with me all in the same conversation?” I laugh because it’ll piss her off even more, and pissed is so much better than petrified.
“Not a conversation, an argument. A verbal battle. A screaming match even, if you continue to be a jackass.” She turns her back on me and starts for the door. Maybe I should let her walk out. Maybe it’s better she doesn’t watch me leave.
“Who’s arguing? You said you love me. I thought we both agreed on that. If it helps, I totally love you too.”
“Yeah, well, stop it,” she shouts, disappearing around the corner.
I watch the empty doorway for the time it takes to take two long breaths and clear my head, then I reach for my bag and double check the contents. Just a few more hours and this will all be over.
Positive that I’ve got everything I’ll need, I pull the zipper just as two arms come flailing at me, wrapping themselves around my neck. Her body follows, pressing itself to mine as if she’s hoping to glue herself to me, because she knows it’s the one thing that would keep me from going.
“Please don’t die,” she whispers against my mouth right before her lips crush mine, kissing me with such fervor I almost forget where I am and what I have left to do. “I do love you,” she promises, kissing me again. This time longer, harder than before.
“I love you too, Liv,” I breathe into her, “and I’m not leaving you. Not today. Not ever. I survived bombs and bullets to come back here and be with you. Your brother isn’t going to be the thing that stops me now.” I’m going to be the one who stops him, and if that Rediger gets buried in the process, all the better.
