by Tracey Ward
“Yeah,” I grunt, slipping down off my knees to my ass on the cold ground.
“I have to go.”
I try to smile, but it comes off as a grimace. “You always say that.”
“It’s always true. You’ll be alright. Someone will have called the cops about the gunshots and I can’t be here when they show.”
“I know.”
“Addy,” he says softly, his face coming in close to mine. I blink to keep him in focus, but his eyes are all I can see clearly. Everything else is swimming crazy and drunk through the haze of shock, pain, and tears that’s washing over me. “You won’t be able to see me, but I’ll be nearby. I won’t leave you. I’m going to get you clear of this, I swear.”
“I believe you,” I whisper, desperately wanting to.
When he disappears into the dark, his presence replaced by the shrill wale of police sirens, I collapse back against the ground and stare up at the sky. I find a single star in the perfect black velvet canvas hanging overhead and I latch onto it. I imagine it in a blue hue that’s unnerving and piercing in its vibrancy, and I take comfort in the fact that it’s with me. Watching me. Protecting me from afar.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Tell it to me again,” Ralph commands.
I close my eyes against the glare of the bare bulb hanging over me. My back aches against the hard wood table and my shoulder continues to burn like a torch of pressed against my open flesh. The doctor, the old German, recently doused it in a cleaning alcohol solution. I screamed when he did it. My throat is still raw from the sound. I’ve asked for water but I’ve been given none.
“Adrian!”
“I was in the ally with Tommy,” I begin, feeling exhausted from repeating myself.
“Why?”
“Because he wanted me.” I swallow hard, my throat scratching painfully with the contraction and my lie. “And I wanted him.”
“Then what?”
“We were jumped.”
“How many men?”
“There were t—ahhh!” I cry out as the doctor pierces a threaded needle through the skin on the side of my face. He begins to quickly stitch the wound back together, ignoring my cries.
“How many?” Hal insists, standing behind Ralph. His eyes are tight and angry, accusing. He doesn’t like my story. It’s not that he doesn’t believe it, he simply doesn’t like it.
“Two!” I shout.
“Which one cut you? The tall one or the short one?” Ralph asks.
“There wasn’t a tall one or a short one. They were the same height. At least they looked like they were.”
“You said there was a tall one earlier.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I never said that because it’s not true,” I insist, knowing he’s lying to me. He’s trying to trip me up but even with a needle slipping in and out of my face, I’m focused enough on my own survival to keep my facts straight. “I told you everything I know.”
“And I’m asking you to tell me again.”
I groan, squirming on the table against the pain in my shoulder and the piercing agony in my face. They don’t need to torture me to get information. The doctor is doing everything they need simply by trying to put me back together. “Two guys, one cut me, one shot Tommy, then someone shot me, they thought I was dead, they ran. That’s it.”
Ralph stares down at me and I don’t hesitate to meet his eyes. His face is cast in harsh shadows by the single light hanging in the center of the room. I can’t read his face but he obviously isn’t happy. Whether he’s unhappy with me or the simple fact that Tommy is dead, I can’t be sure. Not yet. So I do the only thing I can – I stick to my story. I do what Drew told me to do and I pray that it keeps me alive. And if it doesn’t, I pray he’s not far away.
Suddenly Ralph reaches down and gently brushes my hair off my sweating forehead. “Give her something for the pain, will ya, doc? She’s one of us. She shouldn’t have to suffer like this.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, but something about the look on Ralph’s face won’t let me relax. I want the doctor to put me under, to let me sleep until the pain goes away, but I know as Ralph and Hal leave the room that they’ll be back.
I know that my night is far from over.
They let me fall asleep. They let the doctor finish with my wounds, stitch and bandage me up, and dope me hard with who knows what injected into my veins. It’s enough to let me sleep, but that rest is interrupted by a hard bang!. The door has slammed open and Hal comes barging in, the overhead light snapping on again and blinding me instantly.
I squint up at him as he hovers beside the table, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes.
“Wake up, Aid.”
I go to rub my face, but I use my right hand and my shoulder explodes in pain. Bright white starbursts ignite across my vision and I curse loudly, biting down on my tongue until it bleeds inside my mouth.
“Adrian!” Hal snaps.
“What?!”
“Wake up. We need to talk.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head. “We already talked. I told Ralph everything.”
“Yeah, and now you’ll tell me. Let’s hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“Your lies.”
Inside I’m panicking. My muscles clench, my throat contracts, and I worry I’ll burst into terrified tears, but I remember what Drew told me. Keep calm. Keep my focus. Keep to my story.
I roll my head toward Hal, looking at him dispassionately. “It’s not a lie.”
“Maybe not all of it.”
“None of it.”
“Tell me the story again.”
“Two men jumped us in the ally. One cut my face.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did one of them take a knife to your face?”
“Gee, Hal, I don’t know,” I reply sarcastically. “I didn’t think to ask him.”
He glares down at the bandage on the side of my face. “It was a clean cut. Straight. Not the kinda cut you get from a quick slice.”
“It didn’t feel especially quick when he did it.”
“He who?”
“The man.”
“The average man?” he challenges bitterly.
“Yes.” I hold out my hand to him. “You don’t think a cut like this can be done clean and quick? Give me a knife and your face. I’ll show you how he managed it.”
“You’re lyin’ and I know it.”
I drop my hand, exhausted. “Just say what you’re thinking and leave me alone, would you?”
“You killed him,” he says without hesitation. “You shot him. You didn’t go out there to fuck him because you ain’t interested in Tommy. You never have been. You’re fuckin’ that Birdy chump, that’s what I think. I think Tommy took you out back to talk some sense into you and you killed him for it.”
I try to hide the amazement I’m feeling and I hope like hell I manage, but the fact that Hal is so dead on right about what’s been happening shocks me. He’s more alert than I gave him credit for. More intelligent than I ever understood.
“You’re wrong,” I tell him quietly.
“Nah, I don’t think I am.”
“And what does Ralph think?”
Hal snorts, shaking his head in disgust. “Ralph thinks you’re on the level. He thinks you’re some sad widow type.”
“Then it doesn’t really matter what you believe or what you think, does it, Hal?”
His eyes spark like flint and I worry for a second I’ve gone too far. That he’ll kill me here in this room and tell everyone I died from the drugs the doctor gave me. What I don’t worry about, however, is whether or not he’ll rough me up because if Ralph believes I’m innocent, no act of aggression against me will ever be sanctioned. Hal’s hands are tied and I can see it in his eyes that it enrages him. Tommy was his friend, his idol, and I killed him. In Hal’s mind, I have to die. I have to pay, but he’s powerless to do anything about
it.
I get that kind of impotence. I’ve lived it for years and I almost feel sorry for him.
“There will come a day, Adrian,” he growls, low and feral. “There will be a day when no one is there to protect you, and I’ll make sure you pay for what you’ve done tonight.”
“I believe you,” I whisper softly. “But today is not that day, so get your ass the hell away from me right now or I’ll scream bloody murder until every last gangster in this joint comes rushing in to find you assaulting Tommy’s injured moll.”
He goes in an angry blur, but he’s not forgotten. His anger will follow me out of this room, out of this club, and – if I make it that far – out of this town. I might never get clear of it, and the fact that this club and all its bullshit is so ingrained into my life that I can never break free brings hot tears to my eyes. I don’t shed them, though. I save them because there will come a day more deserving than this. Even now with a slice down my face, a baby in my belly, a bullet hole in my shoulder, and a mobster with a vendetta nipping at my heels, I know it will get darker before the dawn.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning the doctor decides I’m strong enough to be moved. I’m under guard at all times, and I don’t know if it’s because there’s lingering suspicion about how much of my story is true or if it’s because Ralph is worried about my safety. I err on the side of caution and assume it’s because I’m not in the clear yet.
Cal and Mickey escort me out of the building to a waiting car that’s going to take me home. They’re ominously silent, though Mickey holds my arm gently as he helps me walk and when his eyes find mine, he smiles tightly.
“Angelo here is gonna drive you to your apartment,” he tells me, pointing to where a man sits with a driver’s cap on staring straight ahead, utterly unimpressed with his cargo. “He’ll walk you up, secure your apartment, and make sure you’re safely inside. Then he’ll wait there until one of the other boys comes to relieve him. You’ll be guarded twenty-four seven. Ralph’s orders.”
“Why?” I ask, but I know the answer. I also know Mickey will lie to me.
“To keep you safe.”
To keep me from running is the real truth. Ralph may see me as a grieving widow, but just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I didn’t pull the trigger.
“Thanks, Mick,” I tell him coolly.
“Keep your head up, doll,” he says, leaning into the car to kiss me on the cheek in goodbye. I’m surprised when he lingers, pressing his mouth to my ear. “Find an opening,” he whispers fiercely. “Run.”
My blood is ice in my veins, and I watch him stand up straight with serious eyes full of meaning and urgency. I nod my head weakly and try to smile, but it never comes. Cal slams the door shut and smacks the top of the car twice, sending it off into the street.
I take a shaky breath of relief to be leaving the club, but Mickey’s warning has me worried. Where can I run that they won’t find me? Is it only Hal that will be trouble, or is Ralph not as convinced of my innocence as Hal and I both thought?
I’m so distracted by Mickey’s words that I don’t notice right away what direction the driver is taking me. South, away from my apartment. My chest seizes painfully and I find it hard to swallow.
“You’re—“ I choke on my words, the back of my throat dry and constricted. I cough roughly. “You’re going the wrong way. Turn around. Or just pull over. I can walk.”
“Relax,” the driver says blankly. “You’re safe.”
“Drew?” I gasp, shocked and so scared to feel the relief daring to course through me.
He removes his hat and tosses it on the empty seat next to him. His eyes find mine in the rearview mirror, intensely serious and so insanely blue and strong. “Yeah, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve already been to your apartment and cleaned it out. Rose helped me.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s scared for you, but she’s alright. She’s a tough one.”
“Will they come at her because of me?”
“No, they know she doesn’t know anything. That’s why you can’t go back to your apartment. You can’t give them a reason to think she knows where you’ve gone. So far you’ve been in the club since it happened, no visitors. Everyone else is clean.”
“Everyone but you,” I reply desolately.
He shakes his head, his voice softening. “Nah. I’ve needed a bath since I was seventeen. My filth’s got nothing to do with you.”
“It does now.”
“And vice versa,” he counters. “I didn’t kill Angelo when I lifted the car from him. There’s a kid down the street from the club right now with a bad headache and a story about getting jumped. He never saw my face, so that’s not coming back on me, but it’ll be connected to you. They’ll figure you had help from someone getting away.”
“Were they going to kill me?” I ask nervously. “Ralph seemed like he believed me. Even Hal said he thought I’d pulled the wool over Ralph’s eyes.”
“Maybe you did for now, but you can’t give these guys time to think it through. Hal will be whispering in Ralph’s ear whenever he gets a chance and eventually he’ll turn him against you. It’s better if you’re not around when that happens.”
“Where will I be?”
He looks at me in the mirror again, his eyes tightening around the edges. “Far away from here,” he mutters.
Drew drives us through Chicago and out to the airport. I’m surprised when we stop there, but I don’t ask questions. He parks the car inside an open hangar, then closes the doors so we’re encased in the darkness. He flicks on the headlights of the car before opening the trunk. In the faint light we’re getting there at the back of the car, I can see a suitcase – the same one I came into Chicago with – and a couple of round black bags next to it. He’s packed up everything I own and I’m not surprised to find that it’s embarrassingly meager. He pulls out a blanket from under the bags and wraps it around my shoulders.
“It’s going to get cold and there’s no heat,” he warns me.
“How long are we staying here?”
“About three hours. Then we’re getting on a plane and getting out of here.”
I shiver, drawing the blanket tighter around my body and stepping closer to Drew. He wraps his arms around me and I lean against him, letting my head fall wearily on his shoulder. My own shoulder aches with every breath I take, the cut on my face is waking up, and I can feel the drugs the doctor gave me leaving my system. I’ll be raw soon and I’m not anxious to see what that feels like. “Where will we go?”
“I made some calls last night. Told people I was leaving town to do a job in Costa Rica.”
“I’ve never been to Costa Rica.”
“And you never will. We’re not going anywhere near it, not now that I’ve told people they can find me there. Panama either. Or Puerto Rico and Florida. We’ll go somewhere small. Simple. Somewhere that we can hide in plain sight. Maybe Montana or Colorado.”
“I have family in Nebraska that no one knows about,” I tell him, stepping back. “My dad’s family. I haven’t spoken to them since before my parents died, but I could find their farm if I needed to.”
“You’re sure no one knows about them?”
“Positive. I never told anyone I had family anywhere but Iowa, and even then I only talked about my parents. Everyone knows they’re dead. It’s my mom’s sister. She’s married and goes by Mills, she never uses the Marcone name.”
“I’ll leave you with them, then.”
I step back, looking at him sharply. “Leave me with them?”
“I have to go back to New York to close up shop,” he says, pulling the blanket closed around me. “I have another job lined up for next week and I have money stashed. Money that we’ll need.”
“You can’t go back to New York. They’ll look for you there.”
“Why? I had nothing to do with any of this. As far as they know I’m in New York right now, and by tomorrow I will be.”
<
br /> “How long will you be gone?”
“A couple of weeks. A month at the most.”
I close my eyes, but I nod in understanding. He has to show his face and be business as usual. He has to pretend this mess doesn’t have anything to do with him, because as far as anyone knows, it doesn’t. Hal can think he knows what he knows all he wants, but the truth is he has no proof and he’ll never convince anyone to come after Birdy with a bullet without good reason. Even if he could prove I was sleeping with Birdy, Ralph isn’t coming after him because he still isn’t the one that pulled that trigger. If sleeping with another man’s girl was a punishable offense, they’d all be dead.
No, public enemy number one will be me someday. I have no illusions that this will all blow over. I’m lucky I made it out of the club alive and if I make it out of Chicago, I’ll be luckier still. And the only reason I’ll survive any of it is because of Drew. Because he loves me and our baby enough to give up his entire life and go on the run to protect us. To save us.
Eventually the cold creeps through the blanket and I’m shivering uncontrollably. Drew kills the headlights and climbs in the back of the car with me, pulling me against him and wrapping the blanket around me to share his warmth. I try to get comfortable laying against him, but my shoulder is screaming as I shake and I feel the bandage on my face pull every time I blink, making me painfully aware of my condition. I don’t complain, though. I sit silently, listening to him breath and humming to myself quietly. When I hum the song I sang for him in the Cotton Club, I feel him lean down and press a kiss to the top of my head.
The doors to the hangar swing open, spilling late afternoon light into the building and blinding me. I feel Drew tense against me, one arm tightening protectively as the other rises to the window to point a gun at the daylight.
