Resistance

by K Larsen

  “If by some miracle I get another chance before all this is said and done I won’t be such a coward next time,” I quip.

  “I’m sure you’ve done everything right,” she says supportively.

  “She has secrets, Clara...dark secrets.”

  She hands me a beer and plops down next to me. A wave of nostalgia passes through me. I miss our time together. I miss it differently than before, though. I miss my best friend. The closeness of having that person.

  “Go on,” she urges. I breathe in deeply and get started.

  Chapter 24

  BFFs Fo-evah

  By the time I’m finished with my hot-and-cold Pepper explanation, Clara is staring at me wide-eyed.

  “Damn,” she breathes.

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Sawyer. Do you remember when we first met?” she asks.

  “Of course,” I answer.

  “I barely spoke to anyone unless I had to. I used you for sex, which, for the record, was ah-maz-ing, and then realized I was so comfortable with you that I couldn’t be without you. You accepted me as is. I was damaged. Broken. Untrusting. You’ve learned from your mistakes, and they were mistakes. You’ve pushed her, but gently, and she’s still gun shy.”

  “Is there a point hidden in there?” I ask, resting my head on the back of the couch, frustrated.

  “Har har asshole, yes. Keep pushing. Harder. Stop being gentle with her. I obviously don’t know what shit she’s gone through, but based on the “how I got my scars’ conversation, she’s got a lot of hurt in that head of hers. Be the knight in shining armor. You’re actually really good at that. But also, be firm.”

  “Firm,” I repeat.

  “Firm!” she shouts, causing me to jump. “Dom puts me in my place. A lot. If you haven't noticed, he’s a take-no-prisoners kinda guy. That does not exclude me. When I fuck up, act like a jerk, or do something rude, he lets me have it. Sure, he’s polite and waits until we’re alone, but he does not forget. He does not let it go. He addresses it and forces me to put it out there and deal with it. After the concert, I got a freakin’ ear load when we went to bed. He laid into me. Hard. But, he was right, you were right, I was a bitch to Pepper.”

  “So I’m still not really seeing the point. I mean, I just told her we’re over,” I remind her.

  “What was the point of her responses to you in that conversation today?”

  “I don’t know! To push so hard that I bailed?” I cry out, frustrated with all this woman logic.

  “DING DING DING! We have a winner! What did you do?”

  “I bailed,” I whisper.

  “You bailed. You played right into her mindset. You proved that she is worth walking away from,” she whispers back.

  “But I don’t feel that way.”

  “DUH. I know that. It’s plain as day. You’re like a pathetic lost puppy right now. You still did it, though,” she answers.

  “Well what the fuck, Clara! What am I supposed to do now?” I bellow, completely aggravated by the situation that I clearly messed up.

  “Go. Get. Her.” She spells it out for me like I’m five.

  “She’s probably all mad and shit.”

  “I’ll repeat since you seem to be deaf tonight. Go. Get. Her. NOW,” she says again. “Make it count, Sawyer. Tell her the truth.”

  “And what exactly is the truth?” I ask.

  “That you love her. That she can act like a jerk all she wants but you’re not going to give up on her. That you are going to force her to see the beautiful side she keeps hidden from herself. That you’re going to be like a leech until she does see it!” she rattles off quickly.

  “A leech?”

  “Okay, leave that part out, but...”

  “I get it,” I cut her off. “Go force her to be with me,” I answer. Clara groans and smacks me.

  “Do NOT say it like that to her. But, yes, go force her to be with you.” She laughs.

  “Clara,” I state quietly.

  “Sawyer.”

  “I’ve really fucking missed you,” I tell her and lean in to kiss her forehead.

  “Me too. I’m sorry I’m an asshole,” she replies, hugging me.

  “Me too.” I chuckle. She swats me again and promptly yells at me to get the fuck out of her house and win back my woman.

  I jog to the door, feeling like I need to rush to Pepper. I can’t get there fast enough. I’m not sure if this is a brilliant plan or not seeing as she will be at work. Can this happen publicly? Maybe Clara’s wrong on that small detail, maybe I should wait until she’s home and we can talk in private. I stare at the bike, helmet on, and wonder what I’m forgetting. Clara yells from the stoop.

  “Keys, asshole!” She tosses them to me and, surprisingly, given I feel like a nervous wreck, I catch them without issue and fire up the bike. With a quick wave of my hand I tear out of the driveway and speed towards Christiansburg.

  Please don’t let me be too late. That’s the last rational thought that enters my head as I pull into the parking lot at Pepper’s work. People are rushing out the door in droves and huddling together near parked cars. I hear the roar of a Harley and turn my head to see a SuperLow speeding away. It’s a newer bike. I’ve only seen a couple around. Carmine. I pull up to the front of the building, kill the bike, toss my helmet, and jog to the front door. People are yelling at me not to go in. Sirens blare in the distance. What the hell has happened? My gut clenches. Pepper.

  Darting through the doors, I head directly for the counter where Pepper usually sits. My feet skid to a halt when I see her facing a derelict-looking man in a standoff.

  Chapter 25

  Objectives

  Fingers rest easily on the trigger of both guns. Quiet confidence rolls off Pepper. A standoff. There’s blood in her eyes. Blood and fire. I watch her delicate shoulders rise and fall with determination. My stomach is a solid mess of knots. What the fuck is going on? Who is she? Who is he? Why the hell do they have guns trained on each other? The intensity on her face speaks volumes. She’s eerily calm and blank. Intense, but calm and blank. Her body looks comfortable pointing a pistol. She looks comfortable. Why isn’t she freaking out?

  Her pupils look tiny and she stares at the man snarling in front of her but it’s as if she’s staring right through him. She’s somewhere else. Her eyes aren’t hers. No warmth lives in them. She’s hard and calculating. Her stance is firm, unwavering. She’s not scared. She looks ready, eager even. I’m sucking air. My heartbeat seems so loud I think it might give me away. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence or maybe she’s so focused she doesn’t notice me. “Titanium” blares from the speakers. It’s odd. It sounds too loud for the eerily quiet space.

  “Pepper?” I call out, wishing my voice didn’t sound so fearful and small. I can hardly breathe.

  The man’s head whips around to face me. His body jerks towards me, too, gun swinging in my direction. He looks soulless, evil. His eyes are black as coal. He is weathered and beaten down but his eyes are crazed. A cracking sound fills the air, deafening me, the sharp sound of a bullet leaving the chamber. The man’s head explodes in a mass of red rain. It splatters everywhere in a wide path behind him as his head jerks unnaturally backward. He crumbles to the ground in a limp pile, eyes open. Well, the one eye that’s left in his head. I want to look the other way, but my head won’t turn, my eyes won’t close. A man was just shot ten feet from me. He is there. Dead. I can’t breathe.

  I fucked the woman who just murdered in cold blood. No signs of remorse grace her features. In fact, no emotion shows at all as I turn my head toward hers in horror. She stares blankly, head tilted to the right just barely, and looking lost in thought as her shoulders rise and sink rhythmically.

  Sadness fills the air around her. When her eyes meet mine, something like reality hitting, maybe, flickers in them. Everything feels like it is in slow motion. Frame by frame I watch as she drops to her knees, gun banging off the floor. Her lips move in a succession that rese
mbles counting. I don’t want to take a breath, don’t want to exhale. I’m nailed to the floor, my fingers tightly balled into fists, my stomach gone to shit. I’m not equipped for this.

  “It's done. It's done. It's done,” she chants on a breath as if she's forcing herself to accept something. There’s a rawness in her tone, like she’s close to cracking open.

  Her body trembles so harshly I think her bones will snap under the vibrations. With boldness I didn’t anticipate having, I approach her. Her eyes look up to mine, wide and scared. The color has drained from her face. She looks like porcelain, fragile porcelain. Pain, deep anguish contorts her features. I sink to my knees, reaching out for her. Her arms come around my body and keep me firmly connected to her. What am I doing? What just happened? My arms form a protective cage around her, her face in the nook of my neck, our torsos fully pressed into one another, and still she trembles.

  “Pepper,” I start.

  “It’s done, Sawyer,” she says, her voice so raw, the edges of her words blunt and warbling.

  “What’s done, love?” I ask softly. Sirens blare in the background. She’s going to go to prison for this. The man looked scary but he made no move to harm her. His crime was being distracted by me. She shot in cold blood. Cold blood. One second he was alive, the next he wasn’t. I feel ill every time I blink. The image of his head exploding won’t leave. My gut says to listen to her words. She may be young and sometimes reckless with her own life, but I know deep down she’s not a cold blooded killer.

  “My objective,” she releases, sighing deeply. Her hands clutch me hard, sweating. Looking up at me, she whimpers before the first tear dribbles down her cheek. I smooth it away with my thumb as she starts weeping.

  Broken.

  Something inside her just cracked. Split wide and shattered. I don’t know what, but it’s clearly something agonizingly painful. Splaying my legs out in front of me, I pull her head against my shoulder and hold her. The doors burst open as men in black vests and SWAT gear swarm into the lobby area, men with ATF hats and shirts, boots, and walkie-talkies buzzing. It’s surreal as I hold this broken woman in my arms.

  “I’m here, Mags.”

  I lift my face from her honeysuckle-scented hair to find Bentley. Motherfucking Bentley. Pepper lifts her head slowly. She looks drained and lifeless. Hollow.

  “It’s done.” She sobs even more desolately than before, vicious tremors coursing through her body again. Bentley leans down, grabbing her by the armpits, and lifts her up and out of my hold. She melts into his firm frame without hesitance. Jealousy pumps through me.

  Mad.

  Hurt.

  She’s not mine. Dammit. I made sure of that. I didn’t want lies. I didn't want broken again. I pushed. She pushed. We never found a middle ground. She turns her head to look at me while he holds her, stroking her hair and talking softly in her ear.

  “Don’t leave me,” her voice softly calls out, stunning me. Her eyes lock on mine. She wants me here. No more resistance. Here with her. My head nods its affirmation before my mouth can compute something to say and I smile at her, the kind of smile that only happens in times of anxiety. I want this, right? I came to tell her I wanted her. But murder? Shit. Shit!

  I follow Pepper and Bentley to the hospital, somehow managing to text Clara the limited information I know because I don’t think tomorrow will be a good day to take Allie. She responds instantly, telling me to call if I need anything. Once we get to the ER entrance, I hand my keys to the valet and try to remember how I got here. I don’t recall the drive. I don’t recall anything but that man’s head exploding in front of me. Bentley slaps me on the shoulder, hard, jarring me from my trance.

  “If you can’t accept her and be strong for her right now, you don’t fucking deserve her,” he grates, glowering. I stare coldly back at him and nod. I follow him into the bustling lounge area and wait as he talks with a fellow ATF agent before moving through a pair of double doors towards the private rooms.

  Pepper lies on a gurney in stark room, looking pale and fragile. So different from how she normally looks. Emotions pummel me. I’m angry and confused, yet I want to be there for her. I don’t know what to say to her, though. I don’t know how to comfort her.

  Chapter 26

  Spilling Secrets

  “Hi,” she says, extending a hand to me. My feet feel leaden as I take the three steps necessary to reach her, trying to ignore the chaos of the hospital around us.

  “Hi.” The silence that follows is heavy. I can feel the weight of every passing second as she clutches my hand firmly.

  “You’re angry,” she states with quiet confidence.

  “I’m...I’m a lot of things right now,” I answer bleakly. What the hell does she expect?

  “Mags, we need to talk,” Bentley cuts in from behind me, his voice sharp and loud in the silence between us.

  “Bentley, I’m spent. I want to go home now,” she says.

  “Who the hell are you?” I snap at her. Emotions are welling up and spilling over inside me, my gut is twisted. Bentley sighs and pulls up a chair next to Pepper. I watch as they eye each other, silently having a conversation that only two people who’ve intimately known each other can. It’s right there. That’s exactly what I want with her.

  “Tell him,” she urges. “I want him to know who I am. I’m sick of keeping everything to myself. I’m sick of hiding,” she mumbles.

  “Mags...” He shakes his head. “Once you fire this bullet, it doesn’t go back in the barrel. Are you prepared for that?” he asks.

  Her eyes dart between Bentley and me.

  “I was raped,” she starts quietly. Her body shudders. My insides coil so tightly that I think I might snap. Rape. Jesus. “My boyfriend, no, that’s not right, my...my soul mate, his family sold guns, illegally. His uncle raped me.” Her voice is thick with emotion as my stomach heaves with disgust. “I shot him, after it happened. Except, except...” Her eyes fall to the floor and tears fall gently down her cheeks. She shakes gently with her tears. I know I should do something, but I can’t. Not yet.

  “She shot Cane, her boyfriend, instead. He was my contact inside the family. Cane was working with us, the ATF, to bring down the operation in exchange for being free of it all. Long story short,” Bentley continues gently. “Mags here ran after she shot him. I followed her. She thought she killed Cane. Ezra, his uncle, went after her. Only he sent Cane, who hadn’t died, to do the job. Turns out Ezra was higher up than we thought. Had information on an ATF sting that went haywire. That information was in a backpack that Mags here took with her when she ran. We made a play to give Ezra the intel back in exchange for his nephew but...” Bentley looks to Pepper. His expression is tortured. I’m not sure how to process all this information. Everything is flying at me so quickly.

  “But I didn’t save him. I didn’t get to him in time. He died,” Pepper wails, heartbroken. “He died because his own uncle tortured and beat him and left him to rot,” she finishes, gasping for breath.

  I’m trying my best to digest the words coming at me but my mind is reeling and all I can manage is a blank stare. My brain is numb, a fog clouding all rational thought.

  “Because of the intel that Mags uncovered, we needed to keep her safe throughout the trial. Ezra was working directly for Torren Delanti, a big-time gun and drug runner here in the States. He’s got connections. He’s out the money Mags took. His top middleman was sent to prison and Mags here is the last loose end. Mags chose WITSEC, Ezra went to prison for life. He escaped during his transfer from a medium to a maximum prison. I warned Mags to stay alert.” Bentley looks crushed as he scans Pepper from head to toe longingly.

  Exactly what kind of relationship did they share before and for how long?

  “How’d he find me?” Pepper squeaks, eyes coming alive. “How’d he fucking find me, Bent?” she demands, voice rising.

  “We don’t know. Delanti was somehow involved with the escape and there was chatter that he put out the
word to locate you,” Bentley answers. “You know I’m not privy to that information anymore. I’m not even supposed to be here with you now. I was taken off that case.”

  “So, you thought you killed your boyfriend, after his uncle raped you...then realized he was still alive and you tried to bring down the uncle once and for all?” I cut in, floundering in all the information I’ve been given.

  “Yes, but I took the backpack when I left, it had a lot of money in it and the USB with all the information on Ezra,” she answers.

  “And that man you shot...” An image of a head exploding assaults me and I grimace. I think I might be sick.

  “That was Ezra,” she answers, eyes going cold and distant at the mention of his name.

  “How many people have you shot?” I question. What do I really know about her? It seems like a moot point at this juncture but I feel the need to know.

  “Three.” She looks at Bentley sheepishly.

  “Three?!” I bellow disbelievingly.

  “She shot me in the leg at our meeting with Ezra. On purpose.” Bentley laughs lightly and Pepper grins, just slightly.

  “What the hell is so funny about that?” I grind out, irritated.

  “Nothing. Everything. Sawyer, please. Please,” Pepper says. “Magnolia will always be a part of me, but I stopped living for her a long time ago. What we’re telling you is...what happened today means I can finally start to let go, put it in the past, babe. All the reasons I am the way I am, the reason I’m scared of...of life…” she says, choking on her words. “I was carefree, from a good family, I was a good girl, in college. It all changed in a millisecond. My world shifted and I became something else. But now, now it can be done. Right, Bentley...it can be done now…” she pleads, although to who I’m not sure. My brain can't seem to catch up with the news.

  I blink twice. It’s like being buried in an avalanche of detail. I still have so many questions.