by T Gephart
He didn’t talk, just tossed Michael into the backseat of the Chevy and held out his hand expectantly.
“All I have is a twenty.” I pulled out a crumpled bill from my jeans, my purse left back at the warehouse.
“Goddamn it.” He snatched the money from my hand and slammed the car door. “Get the hell out of here.”
I didn’t need to be told twice, my ass hitting the worn cloth seat and starting the ignition so fast, I was sure the whole neighborhood heard me leave. So much for being discreet.
“Don’t die, Michael,” I begged, trying to keep my eyes on the road while glancing at his lifeless body on the backseat. “Please. Just don’t die.”
I’d been alone for so long, I wasn’t afraid of that. But there was something deep inside; I just didn’t want him to leave me. I’d finally begun to understand him, work out why he was so cold—the trauma he’d suffered indescribable. And in spite of that, he’d kept me safe.
There was a moan, which was enough for me to know he was still breathing so I kept driving, looking for signs that someone was following us.
Everyone was a suspect, my eyes moving constantly on the road as I did my best to do the speed limit and act normal. And while I was trying to be calm, my heart was beating so hard in my chest it felt like any minute it was going to explode.
Getting him into the warehouse proved to be a challenge. Parking the car around the back, I left him on the backseat while I darted inside to look for anything that could help me transport him. I settled on a wooden pallet with a jack, rolling him out of the car onto the pallet and then transporting him inside.
It had been hours, and still he hadn’t opened his eyes.
He mumbled in his sleep but didn’t say anything I could understand, his body continuing to move on the mattress restlessly.
Clueless as to what they’d done to him, if he would ever wake up and what they’d pumped into his veins. I worried that whatever had been done, there would be no undoing.
I had no idea what to do. With basic first aid training, this was out of my depth, but calling someone was out of the question. He said trust no one and I didn’t. Using my limited resources and knowledge to keep his body going.
His breathing was so shallow I wasn’t sure he’d make it back, but thankfully his lungs didn’t stop. His pulse while weak also kept thumping, giving me some hope that he was going to pull through.
I spoke to him the whole time, not sure if he could hear me. Praying that my voice would give him an anchor, something to hold onto and pull him back into consciousness. Just words; half the time I wasn’t even sure what I was saying, my throat hoarse from hours of unreturned conversation.
“Please, God. Save him.” My head fell against my clasped hands, mentally and physically exhausted while I sat beside him. The whole time wondering if he was going to die.
There were no visible signs of trauma and that made it worse, not knowing if there was potential internal bleeding I was missing. All the good intentions would basically amount to naught if that were the case. Hospital was out of the question. So, I kept his body temperature regulated, monitored his pulse and hoped his breathing continued. And prayed that whatever it was they’d given him would eventually work its way out of his system.
It had to.
He looked so vulnerable. His big muscular body prone as it lay on the bed, his face lax with the front of his hair sweeping across his forehead. And while I knew there was man hardened by the life he’d led underneath those closed eyelids, all I could see was that little boy in those photos. His thin face, messy brown hair, and that empty defeated stare.
“Sofia.” His voice was so weak I’d almost not heard it.
“Michael?” I sat up, my hand grabbing his, so relieved he was awake I almost cried. “It’s me, Sofia.”
“I’m alive?” His voice cracked like he was surprised, his eyelid slowly rising as he tried to focus on me.
“Yes, you are. You’re safe.” I clutched his hand tighter, squeezing it to reassure him. It should have felt weird—holding his hand—but I couldn’t make myself let go, like if I did, he would slip away.
“How.” He swallowed, clearing his throat before he could continue. “How did you find me?”
“You left in such a hurry, you left your computer logged on.” The words tumbled out of my mouth as I watched some focus returning to his eyes. “So I got one of your nice hacker buddies to trace your cell.”
I didn’t bother telling him that I’d also searched his computer for the files he’d stolen from me while I waited for the trace. Or looked to download any other information that could help me. “I found the old car around the back with the keys still in the ignition. Then it was just a matter of driving to the location they texted me.”
Of course, it was a little more involved than that. There had been a lot of curse words, and I’m positive the guy who had helped me get him into the car would talk to anyone who handed over anything higher than a twenty. So how safe we were at the present time I wasn’t exactly sure. But I’d save the more detailed version for when he was looking less like a corpse.
“Why?” His brow scrunched in confusion.
It had been the only time I had seen him not look sure, the wall around him cracking a little and letting me in.
“What do you mean why? Because you were going to die.”
His hand squeezed mine, his strength a fraction of what it had been. “You should have saved yourself and let me die.”
“I couldn’t do that.” I moved in closer, not wanting to stop holding him.
Both his eyes opened, connecting with mine.
“I would have left you.”
“I don’t believe that.” I lied, not knowing if he would have or not. “You’re an asshole sometimes, and incredibly rude, but you wouldn’t have left me.”
His eyelids slowly opened and closed before he refocused on me, his mouth parting like he was going to speak but then he stopped.
For the first time since he’d shown up on my doorstep, it was like he didn’t know what his response would have been. He coughed, his voice still hoarse. “I am an asshole and clearly a hard one to kill.”
“Agreed.” I nodded, not sure how many others would have survived what he just had.
His lips curled into a smile as his eyes closed again. “Tired.”
He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but I was confident it would be better for him to try to sleep off the rest of the drug, and hopefully I could get some sleep too.
I didn’t ask his permission, sliding onto the other side of the bed and laying beside him.
The lamp on the nightstand stayed on, darkness was just something I didn’t think either of us could cope with tonight as I pulled the comforter up. I didn’t bother changing, staying in my clothes but kicking off my shoes as I settled under the blanket.
My eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling, unable to close. Not that it stopped the flashbacks of the last few days rolling around my brain on a loop. That slideshow was happening whether I wanted it to or not.
This was so not what I envisioned my life to be. Running from everyone, laying beside someone who a week ago I would have been desperate to arrest. There had always been a line. Black. White. Good. Bad. And now those lines were blurred, never to be the same again.
Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I could hear his breathing. It was more labored than it probably should be, but steady. And the whole thing made me feel weird. Not in that it felt uncomfortable, but it actually was the opposite. A calm washed over me with each one of those breaths he took, and while it made no sense that it felt good to lay beside him, at that moment there was nowhere else I wanted to be. It wasn’t just about keeping myself safe either. It was about him.
Keeping him safe.
And that was something I just didn’t understand.
“I can hear you thinking from here, Sofia.” Michael’s voice was like gravel, the words catching in his throat.
“I don’t
know who the bad guys are anymore,” I whispered back, hating how vulnerable my voice sounded. But I didn’t try and hide it, not having the energy to process all of it and pretend I was okay.
“Maybe it’s time to stop trying to find them and take care of yourself.”
It was words I’d heard from him before but without the usual venom, like there might be some sincerity behind them.
“Aren’t you tired of being a part of all of this?” I turned to face him, needing to see him. “Just for a second be real with me, okay? No one will ever know.”
“This is who I am, this is as real as I can be.” His eyes fixed on me, his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.
That look.
That vacant look of resignation chilled me like my blood was made of ice. Exactly the same look he’d had in those photos when he was a boy, too young to have given up.
“Who is Rose?” It had come out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it, the words louder than I’d intended them to be.
“My mother.” The two words hissed out of his mouth slowly, his eyes closing.
I’d had my suspicions about the word on the back of the holy picture I’d found. Deep down I knew it had been a name. A name I had asked him about and he’d refused to answer.
“Did you find her?” I held my breath, knowing it probably wouldn’t have been a happy reunion.
“She’s dead.” He shook his head, meeting my gaze. “When I was born. I’ve literally been killing people since the day I entered this world.”
I fought the urge to tell him he was wrong, that he had no part in his mother’s death, but I didn’t. Partly because I knew that no matter what I said, it wouldn’t change what he thought, and because I felt like that was a scab I wasn’t ready to lift.
“Do you know who she was?”
“I know enough.”
And just like that he shut down, the conversation about his mother finishing before it even really began.
Small steps but progress nonetheless.
His eyes stayed on me, waiting for me to say something else. Like he knew I wasn’t done. But I surprised us both by not pushing it further.
“Well, goodnight.” I rolled onto my side, my words so benign they were almost ridiculous.
“Goodnight.” I felt his body shift on the mattress but he didn’t move closer. “It’s going to be okay,” his voice rasped, softer than it ever had been. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Something had changed that night. Whether he chose to admit it or not. When this all ended—and it would eventually end—both of us would be walking away different people.
Both better and worse.
I wasn’t sure what was more surprising.
That she’d found me or that she’d dragged my ass back here. We both knew that if the roles had been reversed, I would have been long gone. Taken my chances and tried to make it to the border. I still wasn’t entirely sure I knew why she hadn’t. The cross around her neck probably was a clue. Like maybe saving me would give her extra credit for an afterlife that didn’t exist.
She didn’t move, her body coiled on its side facing away from me, but I could tell she wasn’t asleep. She was analyzing the situation just as I was; knowing that sooner or later our lucky number was going to be up.
Franco wasn’t the kind of man who just left unfinished business. And if he hadn’t been watching the whole thing unfold from a distance, I’d be very surprised. Which meant he probably knew exactly where we were.
She should have left me.
Whatever had been pumped into me was slowly wearing off, my head starting to gain the clarity it missed after the many hours I’d been out. Unfortunately, my recollection of those hours was still sketchy.
I remembered getting hit; the goose egg at the back of my head was a nice souvenir. But after that it was a bunch of not-really-sure, the mental piece-by-piece probably not going to happen either.
No bones felt broken, so I assumed it had just been drugs. Smart really. I’d taken beat downs in the past and they’d achieved jack shit. It would take more than a ball peen hammer crushing my hand to make me sing. Been there, done that and my left hand still had the kink at the top where the bones hadn’t mended right.
Nope, Franco and his crew were more efficient than that, and probably figured they’d save themselves the time and energy. Just shoot me up with what felt like enough sedatives to tranquilize a horse, and hope I hallucinated into opening my mouth.
Desperation will make you do stupid things.
And Franco didn’t like losing.
I didn’t want to sleep, needing to keep alert in case shit went down, but biology took over and the next thing I remembered was waking up alone.
Sofia was gone, the bed beside me empty as I sat up and looked around. The dull thumping at the back of my head reminding me it hadn’t all been a dream.
“Hey, I thought you might be able to eat.” She waltzed in, her hair wet from a shower I hadn’t heard her take. “This stuff is pretty nasty, but if you are hungry enough it will suffice.” She held out a steaming brown bag of Beef Stroganoff. “If you eat all of that I’ll let you have the M&Ms as well.” She grinned, shaking a smaller bag in her other hand.
“I must have hit my head a little harder than I recall, because last I remembered, I was telling you what to do.” I took the MRE and started to chow down. “And if you are going to stand between me and M&Ms, I hope you have more than just a smile to back you up.”
“Oh good, you’re back to being an ass again.” She sat down beside me, her smile widening. “Looks like you are going to live after all.”
“Looks like it,” I mumbled between bites. “But all jokes aside, Sofia, this isn’t a game.”
She might have woken up with a positive disposition, but absolutely zero had changed between last night and this morning. The hailstorm of shit was still going to rain down on us; it was just a matter of when.
“I know.” She nodded, her smile fading a little. “And I was thinking about that.” She took a deep breath. “I know you aren’t going to like it, but I need to go public. The things on that drive, they would assist federal prosecutions. It would lock lots of men away.”
Clearly, we both had varying ideas about what keeping alive would actually entail i.e. getting the fuck out of Dodge and keeping her mouth shut.
“Firstly, I’ve never been a rat and I sure as shit ain’t starting now. So, if your plan is to go live on CNN, forget it.” I turned and faced her. “And secondly, I may not have a fancy education like you do, but I am assuming the reason you hadn’t gone public yet is because you didn’t have enough shit for an actual conviction.” Her face paled as I spoke. “Close enough only counts in teenage sex, and DAs aren’t going to waste their time or reputations on it sorta looks bad. Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. Those men you are so keen on locking up have deep enough pockets to bury all of that and you unless your evidence is rock solid.”
The look on her face told me everything I needed to know. She had a little bit of this and a little bit of that which amounted to “Hearsay, Your Honor, we would like to petition the court for a shut-the-fuck-up motion.”
“I know I can access what I need if you let me use your computer.” Her sideway glance hinted that she was pretty sure that answer would be n-oh. “Those friends of yours, I’m sure they could fill the holes that I have.”
I stopped eating, the plastic fork frozen between my lunch-in-a-bag and my mouth. She was actually fucking serious.
“They aren’t my fucking friends. I don’t have any friends.” I laughed, her idea so freaking crazy she might as well have suggested infiltrating the Pentagon. “They do work for me, I pay them. It’s a transaction.”
“If it’s money you are after, I can get it for you.” She held up her hands defensively. “I have a trust fund I haven’t touched. I have money.”
“Sofia, if you have a fucking trust fund, why the hell were you renting that shithole you were calling a home?”
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“Because it’s his money.” She didn’t need to clarify who the he was in that statement. “I didn’t want it. He signed over control to me before I entered the police academy. I haven’t touched a dime of it because I know how he earned it, and there is no way I could sleep at night taking anything from him.”
“But you’re happy to crack it open for illegal hacking activity.” I looked her in the eyes to see if she was serious. What do you know, she didn’t blink. “Seems like your upstanding morality has conditions.”
Amazing how shit could change once you took the rose-colored glasses off and actually saw the world for what it was. It was a huge contrast to her earlier views and how she’d never be one of us. Not that I was bound by the same fucking set of ethics, but she’d been pretty clear on which side of the line she stood.
“It’s different.” She shook her head, ready to plead her case. “In this instance the money would be used for good. I couldn’t think of a better purpose for it.”
“And you’re totally cool with breaking the law, right?” I pointed out the fucking obvious. “Those guys don’t get their information via Google.”
“Do you know what this whole thing has taught me?” She waited like I had any idea on what her journey into self-discovery had produced. “That there is a very thin line between good and bad. And maybe sometimes you do something that isn’t exactly good, but you need to do it for the right reasons.”
“I can’t believe you are still hung up on this whole good and evil shit.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do you understand what’s at stake? There is only one person concerned about doing the right thing here, and it’s not them.”
“I know.” She nodded, her hand playing with that cross around her neck. “But I need to do this.”
Wow, had she not heard a word I said? “My answer is still no, Sofia. I’m not going to help you be a rat. Besides, we have bigger issues right now.” I didn’t give her a chance to ask; we both knew it was coming so I saved us both the time. “I’m sure me not ending up a corpse was a huge disappointment for Franco; he’s doesn’t usually leave his toys unattended, so I would imagine he probably followed you.”
