With a violent twitch, Miko leaned in close to him. He roughly stroked Rodrigo's hair, tilting his head back. “You are lying.”
“It was too late. It was too late.” Rodrigo squeezed his eyes shut which made Miko pull harder on his hair until he opened them again. “How she could know my name...it was not right. It was not right.”
“Give me the razor, Nas.”
“NO!” Rodrigo screamed. “I'm not lying. I'm not. She said my name and she smiled and she knew me! I told Simon. He said I imagined it...” He spoke quickly, something else in Spanish, the word God again and again, and Miko thought about Fee's mother, blubbering, “Oh my darling daughter, my daughter, my baby Ophelia.” She'd told Miko to avenge her darling daughter. Sweets to the sweet.
Releasing Rodrigo's hair, Miko stepped back and held out his hand. “Give me the razor.” Nasir obeyed, going over and grabbing Rodrigo's hair in Miko's place since he only had one hand.
“Don't,” Rodrigo sobbed. “Don't.”
“Did you really burn it shut?”
Rodrigo was too busy crying in terror to hear him and Miko angrily repeated himself, slashing at him and making Rodrigo cry out. “Burn what? What are you talking about?”
“You emptied your gun into murderer BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG until the man was on the floor and the barrel of the gun was red hot to burn your throat shut”
“That...is not possible,” Rodrigo said, completely at a loss over Miko's strange story and even stranger reenactment. But it was Miko who was truly lost, Hector's falsehood laid bare in front of him. One of Hector's first stories, the moral to make Miko accept his disfigurement and himself. And it was a lie. Rodrigo's scar was not so horrible it scared children.
But it would be.
Miko swiped the razor across Rodrigo's neck, the blade so sharp that at first there was no blood at all. Then it started to flow and it wouldn't stop and Miko was screaming, trying to stop it, trying to free Rodrigo's hands so he could stop it but all Rodrigo could do was gurgle and bleed and die.
Nasir's eyes were wide, staring at Miko in silent bewilderment while Miko stared at his entire world dripping down the walls. “You didn't say 'do widzenia,'” Nasir remarked as if the rest of the evening had gone exactly as expected.
It took Miko several minutes to find the words to admit, “I thought he would save himself. I thought he would not die.”
“No, my friend,” Nasir said, his eyes filled with regret. He released Rodrigo's hair. “That only happens in stories.”
At the sound of the parking brake Miko opened his eyes. He'd begun nodding off while Nasir drove them back to the hotel, his hair still wet from washing up. Joe had the foresight to find them a building with running water. He'd even left towels. And soap.
The last time Miko could remember being this tired was after Tola was killed. He'd slept nearly the entire drive to Germany, had practically slept through the bath Hector gave him, and spent the next several days doing little else.
“I fear that I have led you astray,” Nasir said. He'd been silent since helping Miko wash Rodrigo out of his hair. “It seems Toby knew what was better for you than I did in this respect.”
“You have accompanied me astray.” Miko gave him a wan smile. “As my friend.”
“Yes. But perhaps I could not look past what I thought was best for you based on what had been best for me. Just as I could not see past my trust in Simon.”
“I did not see Simon either,” Miko said. “Toby did. He suspected him.”
Nasir smiled. “Did he?”
“He is a good spy.” And Miko was a bad boyfriend. “When are we dropping off the car with Joe?”
“Do you want to call Toby? We have time.”
“I want to take another shower.” He really wanted to go to bed. He didn't have the energy for as big of an apology as he owed Toby.
Nasir walked him inside, setting out a change of clothes for Miko and beginning to pack everything else while Miko went to the bathroom. They'd changed already at the building, their soiled clothes in the back of the van to be burned. But Nasir knew him well enough for this: he'd set out one of Toby's shirts.
Miko scrubbed himself from head to toe, ignoring the blood circling the drain, the pink lather. But he couldn't ignore that his hand hurt, not where he thought he'd burned himself on Rodrigo's skin but where his fingers were gone on the other hand. That was where the blood was coming from. Phantom pains. Phantom blood.
Turning off the water, Miko reached for a towel and dried himself before stepping out. He wrapped the stained towel around his waist and stood before the mirror, swiping his hand over the fog to clear it. He felt strangely calm despite the hallucinations, and he knew he'd sleep well on the plane. “It is done, Fee,” he said to his reflection. His hand had stopped hurting. He put his prosthetics back on. “'And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.'”
“How are you feeling?” Nasir asked when Miko stepped out of the bathroom.
“I am not sure.” He struggled to pull Toby's shirt on. That made the blood on the towel go away. Nasir courteously turned his head so Miko could put on pants as well, since Miko had managed to get the shirt on by himself this time. “It is no wonder Hamlet went mad.”
“You were mad before.”
“Yes. But this has been a strange journey, even for me.”
Nasir shrugged. He couldn't argue with that.
They drove to the coordinates Joe had left them, setting the van on fire once Joe arrived to give them a ride to the airport. “How'd it go?” he asked.
Having no clue how to describe how it went, Miko simply nodded and got in the back of Joe's car. “It is done,” Nasir added and got in as well. Joe did not ask them to elaborate.
“I broke into his house while you two were with him,” Joe said casually. He handed him copies of Ophelia's biographies in Spanish. “You could probably buy them in the airport, but I thought you might want these.”
“Thank you.” Miko flipped through, first the original biography and then the updated one. The first looked practically new, but the second had been pored over considerably more, pages threadbare and nearly falling out in some sections. Miko didn't need to compare with his English version at home to know what they said. Rodrigo searching for answers in a book, just like Miko had been.
Joe dropped them off at the airport and Miko watched him drive away, remembering doing the same thing after finally tracking Joe down and being told her name wasn't in Silva's book. “It is done,” Miko said just as Nasir had, and Nasir patted him on the back and led him inside.
Miko slept the entire flight, only waking when they began their descent into Boston. He looked down, Nasir holding his right hand. He'd used a red pen to draw a thick line across Miko's wrist, a band with the letter R barely visible in the same colored ink. The ends met Ophelia's flower petals on the underside of his wrist.
“We can make it permanent if you want. Think on it.”
“Yes,” Miko said automatically. “It is good place. Good to remind me the scar is not so horrible.” He gripped Nasir's hand back the best he could with his thumb and pinky. “Thank you, Nas. See how well you know me?”
Nasir smiled. “Would you like me to get a hotel? You and Toby should have some time to talk.”
“No, come with me. He would be more upset thinking you felt unwelcome.”
“We certainly would not want that.”
They'd left the extra BMW in short term parking, and seeing it there without Toby waiting for him made Miko feel lost all over again. He texted Toby to let him know they were on their way, hoping for a response to alleviate the longing in his heart, but he stared at the black screen the entire drive back to the apartment before Miko conceded that Toby wasn't going to respond. He must've been working. The car wasn't there.
“It's late,” Nasir said but that wasn't abnormal for Toby, especially when Miko was away.
Miko took out his keys, becoming unreasonably angry when he realized the door wasn't
dead-bolted again. But it wasn't Toby he was angry at. “He forgets when he is tired. When he is upset.”
“It is not that important. If someone truly wanted to get inside a dead-bolt would not stop them.”
As they entered the apartment it became clear just how upset Toby must've been. Every surface in the kitchen was covered with different sweets and pastries, cookies and cupcakes and sheets upon sheets of streusel. “Working from home?” Nasir asked.
“Stress baking.” Miko had never seen it quite this bad. “I am horrible to him. I do not deserve him.”
“Maybe not. But you have earned him.”
At the moment the only thing Miko thought he'd earned was a nap. “Will you lie down with me until he gets home?”
Nasir nodded and followed him to the bedroom, but they got no farther than the doorway. The flowers were in the trashcan by the bed. So was the picture frame, the glass cracked. Bleeding. “Is there blood?” Miko asked, afraid of both answers.
“No,” Nasir said.
Miko knew Toby was upset, but he hadn't considered for a second that it was like this. He twitched, forcing a handful of candies into his mouth. “What do I do? I do not know what to do.”
“First, spit those out and unwrap them.”
Looking around helplessly for something to spit in, Miko was about to swallow the lot of it when Nasir held out his hand so he spat there instead. “Sorry for gross.”
“What are friends for?” Nasir started unwrapping them as if they hadn't just been in someone else's mouth. He handed them back once they were all fully unwrapped. “Now, the stems of those flowers are still wet, the oven is still warm. He has not been gone long.” Toby clearly wasn't the only one who was a better spy than Miko. “He probably left when you texted because he doesn't want me to feel unwelcome by scolding you in front of me. Go find him and apologize. You should not have spoken to him the way you did even if he was wrong, and he wasn't.”
Miko nodded. Between Toby and Nasir, it was a wonder he was ever right.
The car was parked outside the commercial kitchen Toby leased, a place they had not christened upon signing the lease despite Miko's efforts because Toby had chickened out. He hesitantly knocked, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet.
Toby looked genuinely surprised to see him, but not angry. He had gloves on and old clothes, obviously there for cleaning, not cooking. “Hi,” he said, barely making eye contact and his body tensed like he was afraid of the confrontation. Considering their last moments together it was no wonder.
“Hi,” Miko said. In the short drive to the kitchen he hadn't figured out his first course of action based on an assumption that Toby was mad at him, much less a contingency plan if he wasn't.
“I didn't know you were back.” His brow began to furrow with concern as he asked, “How did it go?”
“You want to know?” Miko must've sounded accusatory because Toby looked away, but really he was just confused and growing more so by the minute. Toby didn't know he was back. He hadn't gotten the text like Nasir said.
“Of course I do,” he sighed. “I was trying to help. I was afraid if you killed him—”
“I know I was horrible but you were right and I did not realize I thought he would get up until he did not get up and I am sorry but you did not have to break the picture or throw the flowers.”
Toby gaped at him, looking terrified like he really believed Miko would've listened to him and spared Rodrigo. Listened to him like he should have.
“I am sorry,” Miko said again, holding his breath, waiting for Toby to speak.
But nothing could've prepared him for what Toby said. “You'd better come inside.”
It was what he'd said before telling Miko bad news on Christmas, the worst news, and inside was the last place Miko wanted to go and he started back up again as if he could fix this if he just said the right words. “I will buy you a new frame and the flowers and I am sorry.”
Toby shook his head and Miko knew he would die if Toby dumped him again.
“But we will travel,” he said pitifully.
“Miko...” Toby took his hand, the left one because his gloves were dirty and it was more effort to get the prosthetics clean, and Miko would've found it encouraging if Toby didn't have such a hopeless expression on his face. “I didn't break the picture.”
The Breaking Point
Toby
Two days worth of stress baking had yielded an entire church bake sale's worth of cupcakes and cookies, and maybe just enough streusel to cheer Miko up if the meeting with Rodrigo went as Toby feared. Now Toby's entire kitchen was depleted and he felt no better. He'd blown off work, which should've helped his stress level if it hadn't caused his phone to ring practically nonstop from the last person he had any intention of speaking to. He would've just turned it off but he was worried he'd miss Miko's call. If Miko even wanted to speak with him.
A text chimed through and that Toby did respond to. All done, boss, from Shannon, the event wrapped up and with it the contract for Senator Bradley and his psychopath son. Toby promptly blocked the number that had been harassing him all evening and slumped onto the sofa, rubbing at the skin on the heel of his hand. The burn had blistered and peeled and now it was a scar, but that didn't bother him as much as having to lie to Miko about how he got it. In all his childhood daydreaming, Toby never imagined for a second that he'd be in a situation where he could say one word and cause someone's death.
Miko would've certainly hurt Phillip Bradley after the first time, when he'd kissed Toby and blamed Toby for leading him on. Miko would've definitely hurt him after the way Phil spoke to Toby, threatening his reputation if he screwed up the job when Toby tried avoiding his calls. But Toby still tried to give Phil the benefit of the doubt, to see the best in people. Maybe he'd just misinterpreted Toby's small town kindness as flirtation. Maybe Toby was flirting. He was used to taking the blame and naturally accepted responsibility, and of course he would never cheat on Miko but he did miss him. Missed Shannon and Bobby while they were back in Ohio, and having anyone around to talk to, immediately going into a defensive mode like it would be the same as it was before when he was alone.
He even tried being a friend to Phil, thinking maybe he was just lonely too, but when he'd had to cancel their meeting at the last minute after he got his days confused and needed to pick up Miko, things had escalated beyond what Toby could ever overlook. Phil had truly terrified him, come into the kitchen without permission when Toby was alone and gotten in his face. Then Toby had backed up and burnt his hand, and Phil stood in his way before he could make it to the sink and rinse his hand, just looking at him like Toby was a piece of property, so entirely beneath him that his punishment was justified.
Toby had spent a considerable effort steadying himself so Miko wouldn’t know anything was wrong, only for Miko to jump on him and scare the life out of him. He didn’t blame Miko for it. He knew Miko meant no harm. Even with his marks Toby doubted that Miko truly meant harm. He was just doing his job. But when it came to protecting those he cared about, Miko meant harm. Toby didn’t blame him for that either. With everything that had happened to Miko, there was something in him that turned any potential threat of someone he loved into a personal attack. He’d become so overly protective that even a dirty look pointed the wrong direction became a death wish. And by now Phil's death wish would undoubtedly come true.
But Toby couldn't let that happen, no matter how much Phillip Bradley may have deserved it. He understood what Miko did, he accepted it and could acknowledge that a death penalty may be warranted, even encouraged, but Toby was too close to it now. He'd baked the man's wedding cake, watched him dance with his new bride, spoken with her at length about how much she loved him and never wanted to be away from him, and all Toby could think was how devastated she would be. And how devastated he would be in her place. He couldn't spend the rest of his life looking at Miko—and Toby wanted nothing more than to be with Miko for the rest of his life—if he k
new that it had been his own fault that the happiness he felt was taken away from someone else.
She was pregnant too, to make matters worse. She wanted Toby to cater her fucking baby shower. One more happy event for him to ruin.
Toby hadn't told anyone about Phil's advances. Not even Shannon. He just bore it in silence, which was probably exactly what Phil wanted, and he did everything he could to stay busy and not think about what Miko would do to him. To fear what Miko would do. But he'd allowed Phil to take up so much of his schedule that Toby had to either be near him constantly or be alone with his thoughts. And those thoughts were worse than any story Miko could've told because the only outcome was for Miko to be the villain.
Checking his cell phone even though it hadn't been out of sight or earshot long enough for him to miss anything, Toby sighed and once again looked up the time in Madrid despite having the time difference in just about every country memorized. He liked to imagine that when it was that time in Boston Miko would be home.
The knock at the door lifted his spirits for just a moment. But Miko wouldn't knock like that no matter how mad he was at Toby when he'd left. Miko had a key. Toby shook his head and got up, not bothering with the chain because he knew exactly who it would be.
“You think you can just fucking blow me off?” Phil asked as the door cracked open, shoving it the rest of the way. Toby wished he'd never let Phil drive him home after the car wouldn't start. Now that he knew what Phil was like, he didn't doubt the car had been sabotaged specifically for the purpose of finding out where he lived.
“I didn't blow you off. Catering for your father's fundraiser was provided, as stated in the contract.”
Phil scoffed and sneered at him. “You don't know who you're dealing with, Larsen.”
“Yeah, I do.” But Phil didn't have the slightest idea of who he was dealing with. Or who he was dealing with's boyfriend. “You're a spoiled rich brat who doesn't deserve the wife that cherishes him. Now that our business arrangement is concluded we have no other reason to see each other, so please leave.”
The Mercy of the Mako Shark Page 21
