Mama Said

by Byrne, Wendy

  Fear seeped inside her bones and clamped down. She’d seen what they’d done to Mack. Whoever they were, they meant business. Where was Stu? And who were they looking for?

  It had to be Shane.

  She pressed even closer against the side of the building and inched her way along. If she could make it to the corner of the building, she could slip into the alleyway and find her way to the street.

  Planting her left foot, she stepped on something squishy. Yuk. Whatever disgusting thing it was didn’t matter now. Only a few more yards, and she’d be home free.

  Just as she was about to move again, hands grasped her ankle in a steel-like grip. A scream sat like a logjam in her throat. Instead of letting it loose, she kicked at the offending hand, but there wasn’t much force behind the kick.

  Still with a vice-like grip, the hand inched up higher. This would be her luck. She had escaped being murdered by thugs, only to be accosted in an alley by a vagrant needing a dollar for his next bottle of whiskey.

  “Let go of me,” she whispered as she tried to pull free.

  But he seemed to be using her upright body as a means to pull himself up. The wash of whiskey coming off the man almost gave her a contact high.

  About mid-thigh he stopped, pulling in a deep breath. “Gabriella.”

  Ohmigod. “Shane.” She grabbed him under the arms, bringing him completely upright.

  “We’ve got to get out of here.” His voice sounded weird, hoarse with a sprinkle of delirium mixed in.

  “They’re looking for you. They’ll be back any minute.” It stood to reason the person who had escaped was Shane unless there was somebody else stumbling around this alley. Either way, she wasn’t looking to find out.

  Shane leaned against her as they stumbled their way down the alley. As she tried to move as quickly as she could—or they could together—terror twittered at the base of her spine until she thought she might go mad from it.

  “We need…” Shane pulled in a deep breath, then started to sputter and cough, spitting a gob of something or other into the darkness, “…get to my car.”

  “I saw it.” Finally, something she could feel confident about. “It’s down the block.”

  “We need…run.” If he could possibly be passed out and still moving, that’s what he was doing. He seemed to fade in and out and each time he faded out, his weight nearly overpowered her.

  “I don’t know how to break this to you, but I can’t carry you. Frankly, I don’t think you’re going to make it another ten feet, let alone another block.”

  Despite her words, she kept moving and dragging him along. She was scared to death, but leaving him wasn’t an option.

  She struggled for breath as they inched along. They couldn’t make it all the way to the car like this without being discovered. She had to think of something.

  “You wait here. I’ll bring the car in front.” She pointed to a small doorway to the right leading to a series of apartments.

  Propping him between her hip and the brick of the building, she turned the knob, helped him inside, and positioned him at the base of the steps.

  While the light inside was only marginally better than outside, she could see that his face was battered. It was amazing he was able to move at all.

  He slipped his hand into his pocket and dragged out his keys. “Here…” He stopped and for a second she thought he might have passed out. “In front. Five minutes. I’ll be waiting for you by the street.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, tough guy, but I can see what you look like. Believe me, it’s never going to happen. You can’t make it to the street under your own power. I need to find the closest phone and call the police and an ambulance, not necessarily in that order.”

  He grabbed at her skirt. “No cops. That’s how this happened.”

  “What do you mean?” She asked, although, to be honest, she knew at least one of the guys—O’Brien—was a cop.

  “Just get the damn car.” He slumped against the stairs.

  “Okay. But let me go on record as saying this is not a good plan. If you die, don’t haunt me.” Without another word, she slid out the door, moving as fast as she could toward his car.

  Her heart raced. Her nerves were frayed to a near breaking point. Still, she raced on. She had no other choice.

  The engine turned over on the first try. It had been a long time since she’d driven a stick shift, and it died a couple of times before she managed to turn it around in the right direction.

  Her whole body trembled. Was there a word for worse than terrified? If there was, her scattered mind couldn’t come up with it.

  So, she sucked in a breath and tried not to hyperventilate. She didn’t have time to think about where the bad guys were right now, but she knew wherever they were, it was close. She could have sworn she heard voices as the car screeched to a halt in front of the building where she’d deposited Shane. But she pushed away that ominous thought as she ran to grab him just as he tumbled out of the doorway.

  When she tugged at his arm, he pulled back, drawing his hand into a fist. “Whoa there, big boy. It’s me. But hurry up, they’re coming. I think they saw you.” Pure terror made her voice shaky. She wasn’t sure they could make it to the car before bullets started to fly.

  She grabbed him around the waist. Shouts in the background propelled her forward. Adrenaline coupled with all-encompassing fear made her whole body quake.

  After pushing him inside the car, she ran around to the driver’s side. A bullet ricocheted off the right front fender. She fiddled with the shift, trying to find the right gear.

  “Get…out…of here.” His voice cracked.

  “I’m trying. It’s been a while since I drove a stick. I’m lucky I got this far.”

  Shane felt around with his left hand, grabbed the stick and threw it into gear. “Ooouuuch.” He pulled his hand back into his lap. “Ease up on the clutch, and get the hell out of here.”

  The tires squealed and the car lurched. Another bullet pinged close. “Which way to second gear?”

  He spouted off instructions, then winced as the engine spurted and almost died.

  “It will all come back to me in a few minutes.”

  It was remarkable he was still breathing. His face was a mass of purplish bruising; one eye was swollen shut completely, the other only a slit. It seemed that every time he moved, he winced. Pain was etched across his face like a neon sign.

  She spared a glance in the rearview mirror and saw a dark-colored car closing in on them. Normally she got lost circling the block. Trying to navigate her way out of the city with two men chasing them was bound to get them killed. But she had no other option.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Shane flitted in and out of consciousness. No matter how much he tried to open his eyes and help Gabriella, they kept closing. Everything hurt from the top of his head to his toes.

  He couldn’t even remember how many of them there had been. More than two, less than six; from the way he felt it could have been a dozen or more. Something happened to make them stop. If he had more energy, he’d try to think about what it could have been. Right now he needed to focus on more important things.

  He didn’t like putting Gabriella in the middle, but what other choice did he have? They’d made it clear that after they finished with him, they were going after her.

  He just didn’t know why.

  As soon as they got clear he planned to put her on the next plane to Florida, where she could be safe. Whatever this was, it was his fight. Not hers.

  * * *

  Gabriella didn’t know where she was going. She had no sense of direction. The only thing she knew for certain was she had a one-in-four chance of hitting Lake Michigan.

  She looked over toward Shane, hoping to find guidance, but no such luck. He was out. To be sure, she called his name and tugged on his pants leg. “I need you, Shane.”

  He moaned in response.

  All right, so she was on her own. She
glanced once again in the rearview mirror before negotiating the next corner at fifty. She didn’t want to risk downshifting, and she didn’t dare slow down. They were getting closer.

  The tires squealed, but the car hugged the curve. In a pinch, she could find her way back to the apartment, but that wouldn’t do them any good. Getting onto the expressway, even if she could find it, seemed like a fifty/fifty proposition. If deserted, as it would most likely be at three in the morning, she wouldn’t have a chance of shaking them.

  By some miracle, she managed to end up on Michigan Avenue. Water Tower Place whizzed by as she headed for the river.

  They were closing in when she made her first wrong turn onto a one-way street. Just her luck, the double jeopardy. Not only was she dodging cars going the opposite way, she was also dodging the heavy metal structures holding up the el tracks, all the while trying to establish a rhythm with the stick shift.

  Somehow she managed to go the right way on the next street. She glanced again in the rearview mirror. Turning the corner, she ended up merging onto an expressway, which seemed to be the safest place to be right then.

  With the half second she had to spare, she turned on Shane’s iPod. If ever there was a time she needed music, it was now.

  The sign said Eisenhower Westbound. Despite the hour, there was a sprinkling of cars on the road. She maneuvered in and out of lanes, exiting the expressway once again at Harrison. The car followed, but she had a plan. She followed a haphazard pattern of streets and avenues before jumping back onto the expressway further down the road. She hoped they’d assume she’d stay on side streets.

  Looking into the rearview mirror, she didn’t see the car. Her breathing slowed. She might not hyperventilate after all. At least not yet. Still, they were hardly out of the woods.

  The car jostled from side to side as she repeatedly switched lanes in an attempt to capitalize on her edge. She spotted a sign that said I-294 North to Wisconsin.

  “We’re going to Wisconsin, Shane.”

  “Gabriella, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  “On second thought, maybe we’d better head to the nearest hospital. You must be dying. You just gave me a compliment. You called me beautiful.”

  “But you are.” He turned his head in her direction for a second or two before plopping it back against the headrest.

  “You can’t even see. Your eyes are swollen shut,” she shouted. She liked him better nasty. At least then she knew he was in charge. This new dependent Shane was scaring the crap out of her. “I can’t do this, Shane.” Her voice seemed to echo in the small car. “Did you hear me? I want out. I don’t like being shot at. I don’t like seeing people killed. I don’t like being scared out of my mind.”

  He didn’t respond, except for a moan which was followed by complete silence. For the time being, she was on her own.

  Once they passed the cutoff for O’Hare Airport, she drew in a long, steady breath. For the first time, she noticed the smell. It was as if he’d been marinated in a garbage dump and pickled in whiskey. She cracked open the window for some fresh air. What had happened to him and why?

  Slumped in the seat, he looked dead. Ominous premonition? Or simply fear getting the better of her?

  She drove for hours, letting the gentle hum of the car and the music from Shane’s iPod take the edge off her fear. Through trial and error, she flipped through his song list. She needed something to keep her mind from racing. BB King started things off followed by a great selection of artists including Sarah Vaughn, Koko Taylor, Muddy Waters, Tommy Castro, and Johnny Lang. She was surprised when she found her voice loaded onto his iPod. More than likely he’d pulled it from her demo.

  Except for the fact she was worried Shane might die right there in the passenger seat of the car, things were looking better. Glancing at him, she was relieved to see him stir in his seat. Then he moaned. But he pretty much did that all the time. It was the silent times that worried her.

  A couple of hours later the sun was high in the sky and peeking through clouds. Although starving, right now need for sleep took precedence over raging hunger.

  Pulling into a motel parking lot, she stroked Shane’s arm. Surprisingly, he was able to pry open his left eye.

  “We’re checking into a motel.” She unbuckled her seatbelt.

  “You can’t do that.” He straightened in his seat, then groaned and slouched back down. “I’ll…I’ll drive.”

  “No thanks, tough guy, I don’t have a death wish.”

  “I’ll be fine.” With supreme effort, he managed to open his eye another eighth of an inch. “I can see now.”

  “What do you want me to do, slit your eyelid like they did in Rocky so you can see better?” She shook her head even though she was pretty sure he couldn’t see her. “Besides, it’s more the staying awake I’m worried about.” Along with a host of other things. She needed to focus on one thing at a time or she might lose it.

  His head bobbed down, touching his chest. “Just for a few hours. We need…to…keep moving.” He drew in a breath, and she assumed he had fallen back asleep. Suddenly, his hand whipped out, grabbing her forearm. “Make sure you pay cash and use a fake name. There’s some license plates in the trunk. Switch plates before you do anything else. And don’t let anyone see you doing it.”

  “Hmmm?” Right now, she desperately needed her old life back. She wanted to worry about what to wear, not how to keep from getting killed.

  “The license clips on and off. Pick a state from far away,” he whispered through a grimace. “There’s a gun in a zippered bag along with about two thousand dollars under the left side panel. Push in on the right corner and it’ll slide open. If you see anyone who looks suspicious, shoot first, ask questions later.” He flopped back in the seat.

  Okay, that wasn’t going to happen.

  But other than that, she did as instructed, sorting through an array of license plates and grabbing a Mississippi plate to clip onto the car. Finding the hidden panel with the cash and gun wasn’t difficult. She was pretty sure everything she was doing was one hundred percent illegal, but getting nabbed by a Wisconsin cop seemed to be the least of her worries.

  Once at the registration desk, she plunked down the cash and snagged a bag of ice. She figured she’d need about three bags to even make a dent in the bruises and lumps on that man’s body, but for right now she’d settle for one.

  She went back to the car and opened the passenger door. With her arm firmly about his waist, she maneuvered him out of the car. It wasn’t easy. He wasn’t much help, even though he tried.

  They shuffled to the room with the awkwardness of two people tied together in a three-legged race. Propping him against the wall, she opened the lock with the key card and maneuvered him inside.

  He glanced around as if trying to comprehend snatches of conversation he couldn’t quite remember. “Where the hell are we?”

  Although his voice carried the kick-ass tone she’d become accustomed to, his body swayed. For a moment she thought he was going to do a face plant onto the floor. At which point she’d have to call it a day. She’d never get him back up again.

  “Milwaukee.”

  His mouth twisted to the side, at least that’s what it looked like. “I hate Milwaukee,” he spat out.

  She’d gone through all this and now he was being picky about where she’d ended up? She made a mental note to yell at him later. “What’s wrong with Milwaukee?”

  “Doesn’t matter now. I’m tired. I want to lie down.” Feeling his way, Shane found the edge of the bed and dropped down on it. “I feel like crap.”

  “I’ve got news for you. You look even worse.” Flipping on the light, she examined his face.

  Both eyelids were purple and his eyes were swollen shut. He had a huge lump on the right side of his forehead, equally as colorful. Scratches and contusions covered the remainder of his face and neck. He looked like a poster boy for the intensive care unit.

  “Thanks. I feel much be
tter after that vote of confidence.”

  “I’m serious. You should see a doctor.”

  “No.” Even though it was one word, it sounded like a big long sentence the way he said it.

  Although she’d known he was going to say that, she was hoping he’d somehow changed his mind. He obviously had no idea of her catastrophic incompetence when it came to difficult situations. “Are you sure nothing’s broken?”

  “Hell, no. I think everything’s broken.”

  “Okay, now I know you’re exaggerating.” At least she hoped so.

  “Who’s exaggerating? I’m dead serious.”

  “Please don’t use that expression. It’s a little too close for comfort right now.” She settled down next to him on the bed and tried to catch her breath.

  “I need some sleep.” He flopped back onto the bed.

  “You need 911,” she muttered, knowing there wasn’t a chance she could convince him to do anything about his precarious medical condition.

  “I’ve been worse.” With his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, not exactly the most conducive position for sleeping, he nonetheless began to snore.

  Sliding from the bed, she went into the bathroom and grabbed a towel. Next she deposited the ice inside and neatly folded the edges around it.

  Going back to the bed, she bent down and placed the ice-towel across his eyes. Since she’d used the plastic bag from the ice to encase it before putting the ice in the towel, she figured it would take a while for things to get sloppy wet. She pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, ready to examine his torso.

  “What the hell?” He pushed away her hands.

  “If you won’t go to a doctor, at least let me bandage you up or something. I’m pretty sure you’ve got some broken ribs.” She was definitely not cut out for nurse detail. “And I’m sure that cut on your forehead could use a stitch or two.”

  “Not now. Later,” he mumbled.

  “Now. Then I’ll leave you alone.”

  He heaved a sigh and peered at her from his good eye, which wasn’t very good at all. “You’re not going to let me sleep until we do this, are you?”