by T Gephart
She looked like she was going to argue, her mouth opening and closing a few times before settling into a thin line. I guessed the conversation wasn’t done, but she either knew it would be a waste or clued up that things were time sensitive so she shelved it for another time. And hopefully if she got the urge to bring it up again, it would be when I wasn’t around and forced to listen.
Instead, she slid on the safety and shoved her gun into the waistband of her sweatpants, my quest to get her to pack a bag—so we could get gone—finally given the attention it deserved. Thank fuck.
“Give me a few minutes.” She moved toward what I assumed was a bedroom. “I need to get a few things.”
“You have two. Make them count.” I walked toward the window and pushed open the drapes as I peered out into the street.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
It made me uncomfortable, the heat prickling at my neck as I listened to Sofia get whatever it was she needed before we ejected. I couldn’t see her coming back here anytime soon. Death threats didn’t disappear until the job was done. And what she didn’t realize was she was kissing this house—and her life as she’d known it—goodbye.
“One minute.” I let the curtain fall as I un-holstered my forty-five.
I never anticipated an easy exit and tonight was no different. And only time would tell if the face-off was happening here or at another time, but sooner or later it would happen.
Amaros meant trouble, and Sofia was no different.
I knew this day would come.
The wolf at my door demanding payment for the sins of my father.
No one gets away for free, and the things I’d seen were enough to banish anyone into hell for an eternity.
But I’d broken free. My last-ditch effort to bring some balance. And I was doing everything in my power to make sure men like my father would feel the weight of their actions.
My mother had cried when I’d left my family home, and then tried to kill herself when she found out I was joining the force. Her way of cutting out the middleman I guess, thinking eventually my actions would kill her.
Or me.
My defection was seen as the ultimate betrayal; the unforgivable sin that would affect us all.
Even my brothers had stopped talking to me. With the line in the sand drawn, they sided with my father. And while they maintained they weren’t in the business, they would never turn their back on a man they idolized. Their love for him ultimately meant they couldn’t love me too. I hated it but I understood, and everyone needed to make their own choice. Time would tell if my father would draw them further into his deceitful web.
For years I’d been looking over my shoulder, fully expecting someone to gun me down before I’d even graduated from training. But by some miracle, I’d been spared. I’m sure my father had greased a lot of palms to secure my safety; either that or he’d hoped that someday he’d be able to use my position for his gain. Perhaps he believed I’d flip. Become a corrupt cop that we all knew existed. It wasn’t coincidence that he’d never done time. Or that despite the amounts of drugs, weapons or other imports he moved into the city, we’d still lacked any tangible evidence to satisfy the DA. Maybe he was on the take too. It wouldn’t surprise me.
What did surprise me is that he’d sent someone to protect me. His parting words to me were if I walked out the door, I was on my own. I’d expected it. Knew if I needed help, he would be the last person I’d ask. Which is why when a thug landed on my doorstep claiming to be my savior, courtesy of my father, I was doubtful. But he hadn’t killed me yet, and if there was one thing criminals lacked, it was patience.
I might have had the advantage, the sensors hidden at the front of my house alerting me to his presence, but he had yet to pull his gun. He was either extremely cocky, playing the long game or—and I was still wondering if I wasn’t completely stupid—actually here to help me.
While my head told me I should run, go out the back door and get as far as I could while he was distracted, I knew I wouldn’t get far.
I wasn’t submitting. Far from it. But by going willingly, I maintained some semblance of control. Men like the one in my house didn’t leave before finishing the job they’d been sent to do. I’d seen it with my own two eyes, their unwavering commitment to their cause. And as strong as I liked to think I was, overpowering him would be next to impossible. It was either shoot him and make sure he stayed down—which would make me no better than my father—or go, and hopefully he wouldn’t gag me and toss me in the trunk of his car. He hadn’t tried to take my gun, and as long as I got to keep it, I’d let this play out a little more.
He was tall, well above six feet and even with clothes on I could tell he was strong. The curves of his chest against the fabric of his T-shirt hinted he visited the gym in between turning up on doorsteps and waving guns around. Old habits died hard as I mentally catalogued his profile. The color of his eyes: brown, estimated weight: two twenty-five easily, and hair: golden brown that was slightly longer on top, parts of it dropping across his forehead whenever he moved. I hated that I noticed that he wasn’t completely unattractive, even if the handsome lines of his face were sharpened in contempt.
“Where are we going?” I bundled the packed overnight bag over my shoulder as I stuffed my extra gun and ammo into a duffle. I had no idea how long we were going to be gone, but something told me that clothes were going to be my last concern.
“You’ll find out when we get there. The less you know the better. And stop asking questions, it’s giving me a headache,” he grumbled, grabbing the overnight bag off my arm and turning around toward the door. “I go out first, come out behind me. Have your gun ready and don’t shoot me in the back.”
He didn’t converse. He barked out orders. His social skills were abysmal and he had even less compassion, but I doubted he wanted to kill me. At least not at this moment. But I wasn’t stupid enough to think being alive was a sure thing while I was in his company.
“If you don’t want to get shot then I’d suggest being a little nicer. It wouldn’t kill you to not be an ass.” The words fired out of my mouth with little to no thought. It was more terse than I usually was, but then it wasn’t everyday a strange man walked into my house and started bossing me around.
“Actually it would, and I’d rather be an ass than be dead. So shut your mouth, get that gun out you’re so fond of, and let’s bail. We’ve already been here longer than I’d wanted.”
He was all business, his focus continuously moving even when he was talking to me. He might have been attractive if the weight of death wasn’t bearing on his shoulders. Those eyes of his— those endless dark pools—had probably seen a lot. Like he’d lived a life before this one. Both of them, unforgiving.
Even though it was night, the streetlights and security lights from nearby houses made it virtually impossible to hide in shadows. It had been one of the reasons why I had picked the rental. My dreams of living life outside of my family name had come at a price, but I wasn’t going to make it easier.
It also meant our short walk to his car was more conspicuous than I would have liked. The bags and drawn guns broadcasting to whoever might be watching that I wasn’t leaving to go on a vacation. Still, the late hour would afford us some privacy. Not enough it seemed.
My escort—I still had no idea of his name—stopped in front of me. His head snapping to the left like a German Shepard catching a scent.
“What’s wrong?” Even looking in the same direction, I saw nothing unusual. Unless the haphazard placement of trashcans that lined the sidewalks ready for the morning’s collection bothered you.
He didn’t answer, ignoring my question as he pointed to the matte-black Camaro parked a few feet away—his I assumed. Whatever had spooked him didn’t seem to give him much more concern, his feet moving purposely to the car as I followed behind.
“Get in.” His hand squeezed the keyless entry. The locks clicking open as he moved to the driver’s side, his eyes staying on me until I ope
ned the door and slid inside.
My body lowered onto the cloth seat, the duffle I was carrying with extra firepower placed at my feet while he tossed my overnight bag into the backseat. No words were exchanged, the process taking less than a few minutes before he started the car and pulled out onto the road. I had barely gotten my seat belt fastened, pulling the cloth strip across my chest.
He hadn’t bothered with his.
I checked my weapon and flicked on the safety, resting my gun on the bag between my legs. It was close enough to get to in a hurry without being overtly visible. Not that he seemed to have the same concerns about not drawing attention to us.
“You should put on your seatbelt,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance.
He didn’t answer, his eyes remaining on the road as he put distance between us and my house.
“Your gun?” My head tilted to the forty-five that was resting across his thigh, closest to the driver’s side door. “Is that registered?”
Again, no answer.
Not even an additional blink giving me any indication he’d heard a word I’d said.
“I’m just saying that, if you are trying to not arouse suspicion, driving around without a seatbelt isn’t smart. Traffic cops are working this beat all the time. You get stopped for a minor infringement, and they search your car, I’m sure they are going to find more than just one loaded gun.”
Not even a flinch as I took a breath and continued.
“And assuming they are registered—which I’m guessing that they’re not—you would also need to be licensed for concealed carry. Which I’m also assuming you aren’t. So at the very least you should put on your seatbelt and try and keep close to fifty-five.”
“No one in this town does fifty-five.” He gave me a quick sideways glance before his eyes returned to the road, the needle on the speedometer edging closer to eighty. “And I don’t need handy hints from a cop.” The distaste on the last word not missed.
“You know, you could drop me off somewhere. I could leave by myself and we can each go our separate ways.” I looked through the windshield before turning over my shoulder to look at the rear window. “It doesn’t look like anyone is following us. No one saw me leave, and as you pointed out, I’m a cop so I know how to cover my tracks.”
I’m not sure why I was trying to bargain with him. This wasn’t a date that hadn’t worked out, and he was being polite by seeing it through. He’d either been, or would be paid by my father to take me somewhere. Jimmy Amaro had most people either on his payroll, or scared of him. And if I had to guess, I’d say he wasn’t going to give up the payout.
Silence.
“How much is he paying you?”
I knew I was pushing it. That the last thing the man beside me wanted was a conversation, but I really didn’t care. I needed to find out as much as I could about my current situation. And I was on a steep learning curve. “I’m curious as to how much I’m worth.”
Nothing. Didn’t even move a muscle.
He just continued to drive; the lights passing us in a whirl. Even at this time of night there were cars on the road, and while their presence should have made me feel less isolated, instead it made me more uncomfortable.
Was someone watching us? Waiting until we pulled up at a stop sign before they tried to ambush us? Was I unjustifiably suspicious and was this all just a major ploy by my father to terrorize me into submission? Was this just the calm before whatever unknown storm came and engulfed me in it? The feelings weren’t new and something every officer had to face when they went out on patrol. Add in my last name, and I battled an almost constant case of paranoia. What I didn’t usually have to deal with was not knowing the intentions of the person beside me and how they aligned with the dangers outside of the car. So on top of all those variables, I didn’t even have a partner to back me up.
My nerves buzzed with every part of me hypersensitive, the lack of information bothering me as I looked to his impassive face. A complete locked vault of emotion.
“Nothing? You’re going to sit there and tell me nothing?” I glared at him in frustration, reducing me to behaving like a teenager being grounded. I wasn’t sure which I hated more—the silence, or the feeling of insecurity that was creeping up inside of me.
He didn’t respond, the hum of the engine the only sound. Not a music lover I assumed, the stereo as mute as he was. “At least tell me your name.” So I can tell you to fuck off properly, I finished in my head.
He hesitated, seeming to field some internal debate on whether or not to tell me. From the display I’d seen earlier, social skills probably weren’t his forte, so it was no wonder he had yet to introduce himself. That, and I’m sure the less anyone knew about him the better.
“Michael.”
One word.
That’s all he gave me, the full stop to my endless questions. And for now, just knowing his name would have to be enough.
Michael.
We drove the rest of the way in silence to the Far West Side, the Camaro easing off the road into a back laneway and pulling up to an old red brick garage. The structure separated from the main house.
While the building might have been old, it had been updated with an electric roller door, its metal panels lifting with the touch of a button. The remote I’d missed Michael retrieving from the console—my eyes too busy scoping out my surroundings—was tossed back as we entered the dark garage. The door rolled back down behind us as the car submitted to stop with the turn of a key.
Keeping to form, there was no announcement of where we were. Or if this was our final destination. I didn’t even know if I was supposed to be getting out of the car except he had already opened his door, and I’d be damned if I was sitting in a dark garage with no way to see what was coming.
“Are we staying?” I grabbed the bag at my feet—the one with my extra ammo, gun—and palmed my nine. The overnight bag that was packed with everything else could stay on the backseat for now. A change of clothes was the least of my problems.
Michael didn’t answer—shocking, I know—shutting the driver’s side door; the thud shaking the body of the car slightly as I exited from my side of the vehicle.
We crossed the dark backyard, the backdoor of the house visible. It looked to be an old rundown Brownstone, the moonlight illuminating the brick double story.
“Is this your place?”
I’m not sure why I persisted. It was obvious getting details from Michael was like extracting blood from a stone, but it made me feel better. And considering I still had no idea what I was dealing with, I was all about making myself feel better.
“Yes. Get inside.” Michael inserted the key and pushed open the door.
I didn’t do well with orders, my father could attest to that.
“Look, you need to start giving me some answers.” I hesitated in the doorway, the darkness of the house doing little to invite me in.
His eyes narrowed, doing a quick scan of the area before pushing me into the dark entrance. I’d barely had time to react, my feet stumbling as he followed me through and shut the door behind us.
He didn’t reach for the light, just stood there in silent darkness as my eyes blinked trying to adjust.
“I don’t give anyone answers.” The words fell from his lips, each one weighted with a slight pause between. “And if you have any self-preservation at all, you’ll stop asking.”
The door wasn’t locked, instead he walked away leaving me standing uncertain in the hallway. His heavy footsteps taking him away as his boots echoed on the wooden floors.
I could run.
The idea bounced through my mind as I reminded myself I was unrestrained, armed and right near an escape route. Despite feeling out of control, he hadn’t kidnapped me. I was here of my own free will, even if I was questioning my sanity. Even if what he was saying was true, I had resources at the Chicago PD that should be able to keep me safe. There had to be other options. Ones that didn’t have me questioning t
he character of my company, or making me feel like I was on the wrong side of the law.
My hand went to the doorknob; my fingers gripping it tight as I twisted and felt the lock pop open. Was it some kind of trap? Did he want me to run? None of this made sense.
I pulled open the door, the cool air of the night hitting my skin as I peered out into the backyard we’d just walked through. The trees gently blew in the breeze as I stared out into space, my mind unresolved about what I was doing and why.
This wasn’t like me; I always had a plan. But as I stood there silent, my feet undecided on whether to step forward or backward, I drew a complete blank. I had no idea what I should do or who I should trust.
“You would have left already.” His hot breath tickled the back of my neck, his approach so quiet I couldn’t be sure he hadn’t appeared from thin air. “Close the door, Sofia and come inside.”
He didn’t yell nor did he sound angry, his voice kept low and steady. He didn’t reach for me either, his body so close but not even his hands touched mine. Nothing, just his looming presence at my back holding me like an invisible shackle.
He was right.
If I were leaving, I would have gone already.
“Okay.” I turned around; my fate feeling like it was slipping from my fingers. “What’s the plan?”
My instructions were to get her, keep her safe and sit tight.
Not as effortless as it sounded.
It would have been easier to knock her out, tie her to a chair and lock her in a room. And as long as she wasn’t hurt, Jimmy wouldn’t question my methods. He had to have known she wouldn’t come quietly.
Ironically, I had managed to get her to do exactly what I wanted without resulting to my old bag of tricks. It was either curiosity or fear that motivated her, and I hadn’t worked out which.
And why make my job harder than it had to be? Because I could tell if this shit had gone down any other way, she wouldn’t have come so easily. She might wear a badge, but it was still Jimmy’s DNA running through her veins.
