by MB Austin
When Maji opened the driver’s door, Frank didn’t move. Maji briskly checked him over, talking all the while. Rose couldn’t tell from her hiding spot whether she was speaking with Frank or the team. When Maji hefted him out of the car and onto the ground, Rose headed over to help. The sight of Frank on the dirt road, clammy and pale, made her light-headed.
“Not yet!” Maji barked, waving her back. When Rose retreated, she slid into the driver’s seat. Only when Rose complied with her gestured command to duck behind the wall did Maji start the engine. Then she stepped back out and waved Rose over.
As Rose ran over, she realized with a shudder that Maji had protected her from the possibility of the car exploding. The thought gave her a surge of adrenaline, and with it the strength to help Maji wrestle Frank’s deadweight into the backseat.
“You drive,” Maji said, climbing in over Frank and pulling the door shut behind her.
Rose got in and clicked her belt without thinking, slammed the car into drive, and started down the road. “Where?”
“The VA. Ang, you got it called in?” Maji said, then paused. “No, VA is closer. Yes, they can. Call it in!” And then, “Stand by.”
At the two-lane road, Rose braked. “Which way?”
“Right.” From there, Maji guided her turn by turn, rubbing Frank’s sternum and speaking words of encouragement to him. At the parkway entrance, she told Rose, “Go as fast as you can, safely.”
Rose took a deep breath and hit the gas, the car bouncing onto the wider roadway. Maji’s head hit the roof as she leaned over Frank. “Sorry!”
“Just drive,” Maji said, her voice steady but dead serious. From the front, Rose heard her steady patter continue. “Stay with me, Frank. Hang in there.”
He just gurgled in response, drool running from the corner of his mouth as his head lolled. Rose pulled her eyes off the scene in the rearview and back to the road. She changed lanes without signaling and shot past a car moseying along at the speed limit.
A siren wailed behind them, a patrol car appearing on the town car’s tail. “Shit,” Rose spat. “We don’t have time for this.”
Maji’s head popped up, turned to take in the cruiser. “Slow down and wave him up.” She smiled tightly in Rose’s general direction, which Rose took as reassurance. “Window down. Ask for an escort.”
Rose drove half in the right lane, and half on the shoulder. The patrol car pulled alongside, cutting its siren as it straddled the lanes. The look on Rose’s face stopped the driver before he could speak.
“We have to get to the VA,” she pleaded. “He won’t wake up!”
The patrolman nodded, and with a booming, “Follow me, ma’am,” pulled ahead of her, relaunching the sirens while accelerating. Rose stuck as close to his bumper as she dared, barely registering the traffic that pulled over to let them by and halted at the intersections they sped through. In what seemed both a flash and an eternity, they pulled under the ER marquee. A team in scrubs with a gurney and oxygen waited, pouncing forward as she came to a stop.
Maji lifted herself out of the way inside the car, then followed Frank’s limp body out as they hoisted it onto the gurney. She exchanged rapid-fire data with the team, jogging alongside them as they disappeared through the sliding doors.
Rose meant to open her door, stand up, and follow them, but a wave of light-headedness washed over her. “Ma’am?” she heard vaguely. “Ma’am?”
She looked up, and the patrolman was opening her door. She let him give her a steadying hand out and seat her in a hospital wheelchair.
The double doors slid open, and Maji emerged onto the sidewalk, looking concerned. “You have to move the car, ma’am,” the patrolman said to her. Maji glanced anxiously from the car to Rose, and back. “I’ll get her hydrated,” he added, and she nodded to him.
Maji crouched and squeezed Rose’s hands, looking steadily into her eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
In the waiting room, Rose listened while Maji talked to Angelo on a cell phone, like any normal person in an ER. The words didn’t make sense to her; and for a minute she thought perhaps she needed more water to counter the shock. But then she recognized the Arabic and knew they were not talking normal-people talk. When Maji hung up, letting her hand go, Rose asked, “Is he coming?”
Maji shook her head. “But Tom and Dev will be here soon to pick us up.”
“But—” Rose protested, then caught herself. She got up and walked over to the admissions clerk. “He’s conscious,” Rose exclaimed on her return. “They want to keep him overnight, but we can see him.” At Maji’s doubtful expression, she explained, feeling sheepish, “I might have called him Dad instead of Frank.”
Frank looked, if possible, even worse than he had on the drive to the hospital. But at least he was breathing, alive. Rose approached his bedside and started to grasp his free hand. At her touch, he jerked and gasped, jangling the IV attached on his other side. She flinched and stepped back.
“Some wake-up call, huh?” Maji quipped, laying a hand on the small of Rose’s back.
Frank tried to smile, but grimaced instead. “Swore I’d never be here again,” he whispered hoarsely. Maji passed a cup of water from the bed-foot table to Rose, who gingerly held the straw for Frank.
He sipped and closed his eyes. “Owe ya again,” he said to Maji.
Maji shook her head, her hand back on Rose’s back. “Not this time. Rose tore the tires off the car to get you here.”
Frank looked at Rose, and his eyes filled with tears. Blinking them away seemed to hurt.
A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Sorry, ladies. He’s due for a sedative.” To Rose she added, “You can pick your father up in the morning.”
As she nodded her consent to the nurse, Rose noticed the look that Frank shot Maji. She winked at him and said, “Just rest, Frank.”
Chapter Sixteen
In the morning, Maji felt like she’d been the one shot up with heroin and then brought back from the brink with Narcan. Everything ached, and her eyes felt gluey. Thank God for two days off from camp. Maybe she’d just float in the pool, staring up at the sky the way Rose sometimes did.
Rose’s gentle snoring prompted Maji to check her watch. Six a.m. She carefully rolled up her mat and sheet, tucked her pillow and bedroll under her arm, and slipped out of Rose’s room. No rest for the wicked, but maybe there was coffee.
As Maji walked into the kitchen, Tom looked up. “Wanna go for a run?”
“Nuh-uh,” she said and poured herself a cup of coffee. It tasted flat. She eyed the rarely used espresso machine but couldn’t work up the energy.
“How you sleeping these days?”
“Okay.” Though her sticky eyes told her she might have cried while sleeping. Still, at least no nightmares. The look on Tom’s face showed he wanted to ask more, but was holding back. “Well, as normal as on alert can be.”
“You really sleeping on her floor every night?” He blushed. “Ang said you’re by the door, asked if I knew why.”
Sweet Tom. Last thing he’d want was for her to think he was prying into her love life, or questioning her tactical decisions. She wondered which intrusion would bother him more. “Yes.” She peered into the fridge. “Why is there no half-and-half?”
“Frank missed the grocery run yesterday, in favor of that trip to the ER. He’s stable, might get released today.”
“Good. We know who did it yet?” Her money was on Ricky.
He shook his head. “Not yet. We got ears set up, but so far just the cops have been in. ’Course, Frank swears he was alone, and he can’t explain where the drugs went given the car was clean.”
“So it was a mean SOB who Frank will protect, even though they clearly fucked him up on purpose. That narrows it down.”
“Hey, you want some breakfast? I’ll make you something.”
She shook her head, and sat. “Not yet.”
“You need the calories, Ri.” To blend in as an average woman without all her muscles
on display, he meant. “You were doing good there for a while.”
“Yeah, till I lost my appetite.” When she’d learned of Ava’s death, the high of being able to perform in the field again, having her strength and will back after months of recuperation, had vanished. “I’m working on it.”
“She eats all day long at the dojo,” Rose offered from the doorway. She had a light cotton robe on over the long T-shirt she wore to sleep in. “The host families rotate who brings snacks, and Hannah stocks the kitchen like she’s expecting a natural disaster.”
Maji realized she was staring and pulled her eyes away. Keeping the walls in place took too much energy, and her face was likely to telegraph how seeing Rose tousled and sleep kissed made her feel. She rolled her neck, stretching the tight tendons until a twinge made her wince.
Rose moved toward her, but Tom laid a hand on Maji’s shoulder before she was in touching range. “I got this,” he assured her. “Set up, Rios.”
Maji sighed. It was pointless to argue. “Fine.” She stood and flipped her chair around, then sat straddling the back, her forearms resting on the table. There were worse ways to start the day than a massage. “Just, go easy.”
“Right, then,” Rose said. “I’ll get the crepes started.”
Rose watched with satisfaction as Maji and Tom polished off an entire batch of crepes, with sausages and fruit and cheese sauce for fillings. She’d almost burned a few, keeping one eye on them as Tom worked his wide, powerful hands down Maji’s spine. The involuntary sounds Maji made as he released knots and found trigger points brought back memories Rose had worked hard to suppress. And if she didn’t know better, resentment. But that was ridiculous. Rose set two lattes before her guests—plain for Tom, and Maji’s with a sprinkle of cardamom.
“Thanks,” Maji said in her unfailingly polite way. But when she lifted it to sip, she frowned and set it down, looking almost alarmed.
Rose gaped. Were those tears? “I’m sorry,” she said. “Angelo said you liked cardamom.” She reached to take the mug back.
“No, it’s perfect. Really.” Maji squeezed the bridge of her nose, sniffing as if she could pull the tears back. Then she read the watch face under her wrist. “Shit. I gotta call Bubbles and cancel.”
“Don’t you dare,” Rose said before she had time to censor herself.
Tom gave her a look of approval. “We got things covered here,” he agreed. “Catch a break while you can, dude.”
“Maybe next weekend.” Maji sipped the latte calmly, her game face back on.
Rose’s temper flared. “Maybe,” she said, “you need a friend today. Maybe you are human, and last night was horrible. Maybe you want to be ready every minute for the next horrible thing.” She paused and steadied herself. “But I’m sure you’ll handle whatever it is better if you let yourself catch that break today. Dude.”
Based on the look that passed between Tom and Maji, Rose had only managed to amuse them both. Tom said something to Maji in Arabic, and her hint of a smile faded.
“You want to say that in English, akhi?” She looked at Rose. “Sorry. You’re probably right, but I can’t just waltz out the front door on my own today. It would look bad.”
Tom smiled conspiratorially at Rose. “I said we got you covered. I moved your bike off the grounds last night, to a spot you can reach without the cameras picking you up.”
“Sounds like another parkour lesson,” Rose said. Maji didn’t smile at that, but at least she didn’t argue.
Maji caught her breath in the boathouse. Following Tom’s directions brought her to the cool, dim interior in only a few minutes. She’d not realized how easy it could be to circumvent the security cameras, if you thought about it from an infiltrator’s perspective. And she’d do just that later today, sneaking back in. Then have a chat with Angelo about tightening up security. For now, she took stock of the building. It was uninsulated, just a wooden shell to keep rain or snow off any boats and gear inside. Neatly coiled lines lay by the cleats closest to the pulled-down garage door that stopped two feet above the waterline. Miscellaneous boating gear—life jackets and spare line, predominantly—hung between the support beams that tied the roof and exterior walls together. And overhead, crossbeams with an occasional square of plywood. If you put a ladder up, it would be a handy place to store larger items. Maji wondered if the building had been used for more than an occasional visit from Uncle Lupo and his motor yacht, back when the Benedetti family was intact.
Making sure not to get her riding boots wet, Maji swung herself around the outside edge of the chain-link fence at the property’s edge. She landed next door, still shielded from the security cameras by the boathouse. Much too easy. They should put a perimeter alarm in the area.
She found her bike in the underbrush, her helmet and a spare clipped on. Who did Tom think she would take with her? Rose came immediately to mind, and Maji mentally praised her teammate. Push came to shove, this would be an excellent extraction route. She started the electric motor and drove nearly silently to the property’s back entrance to the road, escape scenarios flowing through her mind.
On her approach, Bubbles’s place looked exactly as it always had—cozy, and well-kept by the estate’s owners, old friends of Hannah and Ava. The little guest cottage tucked out of sight of the road enjoyed easy beach access and a water view. But strangers would never find it, and it didn’t exist as a separate address. Maji wondered if Rey, like Bubbles, would have his mail delivered to a PO box in town. Might be a wise choice for an FBI agent.
Inside, the house looked the same, only slightly cluttered now with the addition of Rey’s belongings. Maji sat next to Bubbles on the little slipcovered sofa, paging through three photo albums of Rey’s family, the four abuelos and five sets of tíos and primos, Rey’s brother and two sisters, and so many of the siblings’ and cousins’ children that Maji lost count.
When Maji yawned, Bubbles asked, “Are you bored? We can stop.”
“No, it’s great. Just a rough night.” Maji thought about telling her friend about Frank, but decided against it. She was already worried enough about Rose. “I’m happy for you. Looks like your dream family.”
“And they all live close enough for holidays together,” Bubbles agreed, a note of wonder in her voice. “They have these huge, buffet-style meals where they run out of chairs—it’s crazy.”
“And you, the poor gringa in the middle of the chaos. They make you sit on the floor? No, wait, I know—they fight over who gets to fuss over you.”
Bubbles bumped her playfully, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. “Brat. How’d you know? The tías are the worst. They drag me into the kitchen to roll tamales and make me eat all day long. Even you would gain weight.”
“Viva tamales! But I’d have to sneak outside, go look at the primos’ low riders.” She’d been fussed over this morning almost more than she could handle. A houseful of loving aunts and grandmas would be overwhelming in about five minutes. “What about Rey? Does he join you? You said he’s gone a lot.”
Maji felt her friend’s shoulder lift. “He is. Sometimes he works holidays, and a lot of weekends, too. But when he’s home, he’s a hundred and ten percent. And he won’t be a Fed forever.”
“No?”
“He’s got some feelers out. Other kinds of work. I just don’t want him to grab something easier to make me happy, and then feel stuck in some boring cubicle land, or something.”
Maji remembered what Rey had said about the day-to-day feeling…flat after his tour of duty. She nodded. “Smart to not push him.”
Bubbles snorted. “You trained me.” She jumped up and pulled Maji after her by the hand. “C’mon. I’ll show you the patio we put in.”
By sundown, they were pretty much caught up. Watching the sun turn the undersides of the clouds over the Sound pink and orange, feet dangling off the dock, they sat quietly.
“Thanks for coming,” Bubbles said, looping one arm through Maji’s and scooting closer to her.
“I half expected you to cancel. Not that I’d blame you wanting some alone time with Rose.”
“We avoid alone time.” Maji wished like hell she could tell Bubbles the whole story. “And Rose insisted I come see you.” She paused. “Don’t tell her, but I won’t risk coming back here.”
“Your friend Angelo’s in some serious shit, huh?”
Maji chuckled. “Yeah. You could say that.”
“But you’ve got his back.”
“Best I can. There’s only so much I can do.”
“You know, Rey might be able to help. I could ask him.”
“No. Seriously, Bubs—no.”
The silence stretched out, and the deepening blue of the sky turned to purple. It was cooling off, but Maji didn’t want to move. Behind them was Bubbles’s little hideaway, now a home for two, and their grown-up lives. Out here they could still be fourteen, sixteen, eighteen. For just a few more minutes, she could hold on to the feeling of peace, and forget the changes 9/11 had wrought.
“Maj?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t get yourself hurt again, okay?”
The spell broken, Maji pushed up from the dock and offered Bubbles a hand. “I’ll do my best.”
Bubbles rocked herself up by their clasped hands and looked her in the eye. “Rose will be okay, right?”
“I’d rather she was off in some safe house. But, you know.”
“That she’s got you whipped? It’s pretty obvious.” Bubbles smiled and danced back, out of Maji’s reach. When Maji just stood stiffly, she dropped the act. “Oh, come on. It’s about time somebody got to you. Hell, if I was sleeping with her, I’d be whipped, too.”
“It’s not like that. We’re not even dating.”
“No, you’re just living together.” Bubbles searched Maji’s face. “And didn’t you…you know, that first night?”
Maji sighed. “I went home with her, yeah. Now it’s different. All that counts is keeping her safe.”
