by Harper Riley
“Shhh...” I murmur, patting her head.
“Two minutes, Boss.”
“Yeah, yeah okay,” I snap back.
“What are you suggesting?” I ask Torrie.
“A compromise. You evacuate then blow up the two compounds, but leave the house, leave my family. Carlos is corrupt, but many of the others at the funeral coming here after for the reception are innocent.”
“One minute Boss.”
“Got it Pip!” I snarl.
“You still want me to go through with it?” he asks.
“Yes – no! Wait a second, wait for my command.”
I advance so that I’m less than an inch from Torrie, our glares boring into each other.
“You realize what you’re asking me to do?” I say.
“Please, Gav. I didn’t know anything about your sister. I’m in the process of changing the business now; we won’t be bothering you or interfering with your shipments any longer. I can get them to agree to this change when they see how profitable it can be. I know I can. Please. If you kill them, I’ll have no one left.”
I stand there and take her in: my Mexican princess – the woman who betrayed me, the love who screwed me over in the worst way.
Her face looks earnest, those black eyes are opaque, that big red lower lip is quivering. But how do I know that those black eyes aren’t opaque just to obscure what she’s really thinking, that she’s not just quivering her lower lip in time to her lies? How can I trust her now that I know she’s lied to me about everything?
“Boss? They’re ready now.”
Pip’s voice just adds to the din.
My head and heart are yelling different things, each dead set on its own way, unable to compromise.
Kill her. End this.
What if she’s telling the truth?
Torrie steps toward, her eyes pleading.
I turn away.
“Ok, Pip. Blow the compounds but leave the house for now.”
I walk to the stairs, then look back, “You coming?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m staying Gav. I’m staying until you go.”
Now my head is screaming victory: Blow the house too. This is a trap. Why should I trust her if she doesn’t trust me?
How do I know she won’t stab my back again as soon as I turn it?
Torrie doesn’t react when I lift my gun. Instead she stands there, her body facing me, open. Trembling, but not moving. As if she already knows what I’m going to do.
I raise the gun to her head, then turn and run up the stairs. I burst out of the house just as the two buildings behind it explode in a roar of flames.
“And Pip?”
“Yeah Boss?”
“Tell them the attack part is off. This is enough for today. The other part we can carry out when the Piccolos try to rebuild.”
“You sure Boss?”
“Yeah Pip.”
As I walk out, a hideous old man runs up to me. Ah, Pulse, the mask, of course.
“What the fuck man? Were there a lot of guards? I was about to go in after you.”
“I’ll explain later,” I say, “I’ve got to get her into the van, to a doctor.”
Now noticing Hannah in my arms, Pulse gives me a relieved smile.
As we head for the van, Rebel Saints streaming around us to the other vans, I hear blasts behind us. We duck.
“Waoooo! It’s go time! You guys ready!”
It’s another hideous old man, Jaws wearing the mask, holding a gigantic bazooka.
“Jaws,” I say, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.
“I’m ready! I am so fucking ready and pumped and hyped and waooooo!”
“Jaws,” I say.
“We gonna make it rain with their blood, use their tongues to clean off our cars, ohhh it’s gonna be some... Yeah?”
“Mission’s over, we’re going home.”
Jaws maniacal grin disappears.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope, not kidding. We blew the compounds, it’s over.”
He gapes at me, mumbles, “But what about ...?”
“Gav’s sister is in the back; she’s okay,” Pulse says, going past me to climb into the driver’s seat.
Jaws nods glumly. He understands now. Hannah is all that matters.
I go to the back, sit down beside her.
I check her arms and legs, her face, her scalp. She’s fine. Dirty and bruised, but fine.
Guess they didn’t want to harm their merchandise I think, and my stomach twists.
As we drive away, Pulse throws a pleased look back.
“You know Boss, I didn’t want to admit it, but I reckoned your sister was toast.”
An icy silence, in which I contemplate blowing Pulse’s head off.
“Thanks for keeping that to yourself,” I say quietly, and that shuts them both right up.
I spend the rest of the ride stroking her head. She doesn’t open her eyes again, only tosses and turns with frowns and little sighs of exasperation.
I’d never admit it to the boys, but I was afraid of the exact same thing as Pulse.
Chapter 28 - Torrie
The aftermath is oblivion.
I sit and wait, while my mind screams at me to leave.
Go, it says. Go and leave Carlos and the others to their fate. Leave this old house with its old memories to its fate.
Go with Gavin, your love. The one person who hasn’t betrayed you. Who loves you – or did before at least.
I pat Jane absently. She has lowered her head to the ground, slumped into a crumple. She knows. There’s no way we’re leaving here.
This old house and its old memories are all I have left of my parents now. I can’t let the Rebel Saints destroy it.
And what of Maria Fernanda? I can’t just leave her here to die, there would’ve been no time to alert her, to save her. Where is she now?
I try to stand up, but my body refuses to move.
And those girls, all those girls, the whole business. I need to fix it. I just need time. A few months. A few months to make the business legitimate, get it off the ground, then I can hand control over to someone else. Then, only then, can I be free.
I owe it to those girls, my family, myself.
I stand up, slide the armchair back in place. Sit back down on it.
Wait for what will come. Whatever it is, I have a feeling that it won’t be good.
Carlos gets back sooner than I would’ve hoped. Maybe fear speeds time along, who knows. Then again, I would’ve hoped he’d never get back.
He is a shout outside the house, a racing from room to room, his footsteps a drum roll until he finally makes it down to the basement.
“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?” he yells.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Now he’s right in front of me, his voice a deadly hiss, “Two of our compounds were just blown to shit and you’re sitting here, calm and quiet and have no idea how.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
He rips me off the armchair and throws me to the ground. He starts shoving the armchair over, slow-going with his one usable arm, speaking as he goes:
“Well, it doesn’t matter really. Because those Rebel Saints are sure gonna be sorry they messed with us. Because now, Torrie, you’re going to see what I’ve been trying to show you for weeks now. You’re going to see why we’ve got the Rebel Saints in the palm of our hand. How we’re going to crush them now that they were stupid enough to attack us.”
The door flap now revealed, Carlos crouches down and sticks his head through.
I knew what he’d find, and yet the vehemence with which he swears still sends a chill down my spine. As did his scrambling in and storming around.
I consider trapping Carlos in there, but he’s out before I can make a decision, snarling in my face before I realize that I should have left as soon as he came home.
“What... happened?”
His eyebrows are arc
hed incredibly, and, his eyes flashing, he almost looks like Papa now. It’s in the mouth more than anything, the bared teeth, the curve of the lower lip, that’s too big for the top one.
His eyes are full of tears, like he’ll cry or strike me or both.
Should I tell him or should I lie?
“Torrie...” he growls.
I open my lips, but no words come out.
Carlos doesn’t understand. That this is it: my final decision – where my loyalty lies: my family or Gavin.
“What... happened?” he says, and his hand trembles so that the light catches on the green of his ring, and suddenly I get it. What I’ve known all this time.
“I don’t know,” I say, and Carlos strikes me.
“You bitch,” he hisses, grabbing me by the shirt, shoving me through the flap door.
“Carlos!” I cry, crawling out.
He draws his gun, presses it into my forehead. The second time today I’ve been in this position.
I stare into his eyes.
The tears are streaming down now, no longer obscuring the rage there. The unmistakable, dangerous rage.
“Carlos,” I say and he cocks his rifle.
“Don’t talk. Don’t say another stupid lying word. I know, okay? I know.”
He wipes away the tears with his gun hand, his bandaged arm trembling.
“I know about Gavin Pierson, about how you’re trying to change everything, even went down to the Factory.”
For one stupid, crazy last chance of a second, I wonder if Carlos actually understands. Is only mad about the withholding, is only doing this to teach me a lesson, to teach me about trust.
But then Carlos laughs, and I know it’s all over.
“How dumb are you? You think that Gavin Pierson of all people is doing anything other than using you for the stupid bitch that you are, trying to mess with us from the inside? God Torrie, I knew you were sentimental, but I never took you for a full-on idiot.”
His mouth is an ugly sneer, his eyes flicking search lights – searching, scanning, eager to see that he’s cracked me, hurt me as much as he intended to.
I blink back my own tears, refuse to move. Those tears will come out over my dead body. No way am I giving Carlos the satisfaction. That he’s getting to me. That he’s voicing my greatest fear, giving it wings, claws, fangs. That his words are sending my stomach swirling.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Carlos is saying, “That what I did to his sister, Gavin Pierson pulled on my own. Guess stupidity is more universal than I thought.”
There are no more tears in his eyes now. Only a sheen of indifference.
“You won’t get away with this,” I say, and he laughs again.
“How do you figure? I’ve got a gun to your forehead. I’ve got Clarence, Anthony and Roger ready to take my side at any minute. Hell, I’ve even got Papa’s blessing in writing.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Oh no...” I say.
“Oh yes,” Carlos says, his one hand gripping the gun while the other burrows into his jacket pocket.
“Actually, I’ve got it right here.”
His shaking hand unfurls the crumpled paper, while his shaking voice spouts off its contents gleefully, “I, Earnest Taurus Piccolo, do assert that my business be handed over to my son, Carlos Piccolo.”
He turns it and mashes it in my face, so the swooping pyramid of Papa’s signature is unmistakable.
“No,” I say, twisting my face away, “That isn’t legitimate and you know it. Getting your vile mother to force it out of him on his deathbed isn’t what anyone is going to consider lawful.”
Tucking the paper back in his pocket, Carlos nods as if he’s actually considering my words. But when he looks up at me, there’s a malicious gleam in his eye.
“You’re right, of course. But really, who’s going to know?”
I gape at him as the inference at what he’s saying sinks in.
“All they’re going to see is this paper,” Carlos continues, his voice light, casual.
“What about me, Carlos?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, his eyes locked on a spot over my head, the inevitable conclusion worsening with every passing second.
Then, his eyes meeting mine, he murmurs, half to himself, “Yes, what about you?”
A smile plays on his lips and my blood runs cold, words surging forth:
“Carlos, please, I won’t tell anyone – I swear. I’ll leave, leave Toronto, Ontario, Canada even. I’ll stay out of your way I promise. Please Carlos.”
His gaze is still beyond me. When it flicks to mine, his smile forms fully, says, “Oh you’ll leave Canada alright.”
Now my whole body is trembling.
“Carlos – please – don’t do this – please, I-”
“Have already shown that you can’t be trusted. You lied to me Torrie. You lied about fucking Gavin Pierson all this time. You lied about trying to change our family business right under me. And just now you lied about letting Gavin Pierson down here to rescue his sister.”
“Carlos, please...”
He pats my head.
“Don’t worry Torrie. You will stay out of my way. You’ve been trying to learn more about the family business, the girls – well, now you’ll get to experience it all firsthand.”
Our eyes meet in horrible understanding, and I croak, “No.”
Carlos pats my head again.
“Yes, I’m sending you out with the next shipment of girls. You won’t be ruining my plans any longer.”
“Carlos...”
“Papa always said that sometimes what we have to do to succeed isn’t always pretty.”
“Carlos...”
“And now mother can come back here, where she’s always belonged.”
“Carlos,” I gasp, “Look at me.”
And, finally, he does.
I let my gaze bore into him, convey all my repentance, my sadness, my terror. I fill that gaze with every one of our childhood memories: snow angels and snow cones, sand castles and paper fights and Monopoly games and pizza birthday parties and crying here, together, as Papa passed away.
But our shared gaze lasts only a moment, our understanding less than a second: he blinks and opens his eyes a new man. Not my brother, not Carlos. But a stranger, a tyrant doing what it takes, whatever it takes.
“There will be a guard waiting in that armchair,” Carlos says, gesturing over, “With orders to shoot you if you try to escape.”
I’m shaking my head, back and forth, not caring about the muzzle of death pressed into my forehead.
“No... no...”
With the palm of his hand, Carlos shoves me back through the door into the room.
“Goodbye Torrie,” he says, and then the door is filled with the back of my favorite armchair.
The irony is a stab to the heart, but really, I’m as good as dead already.
Chapter 29 - Gavin
Back in my apartment, I sit.
I sit on my lush black leather seats, watch, wait.
It’s been half an hour, and still Hannah hasn’t stirred.
She’s on the other couch, covered by a woolly afghan Momma made years ago. It’s canary yellow and stands out ridiculously in this black room. Then again, so does Hannah.
She’s always been a flash of color and this outfit she was kidnapped in is no exception: bright teal tank, neon lime skirt with a choker to match.
The others left on a beer run, knew better than to try talking to me.
Until I know she’s okay, nothing else matters.
Only Pip stayed, the only one who matters anyway. He’s a pre-med dropout, so he can help. I wouldn’t have let him leave if he wanted to.
I pat Hannah’s head, smooth down her soft blond hair.
Did I make the right choice in taking her here instead of a hospital?
The clenching of my hands at even the thought is the answer.
No, if Hannah were there, being taken care of by strangers,
being protected by no one, neither of us would’ve been able to rest. No, not when Carlos and the Piccolos are still out there, could take her again.
As Hannah sleeps, I scan her once more. Her clothes look dusty but intact. Her fingernails have dirt under them while her fingers are clenched.
I want with everything in me for Hannah to wake up and yet, I’m afraid for her to. Afraid of what she’s been through, of what it’ll make me do.
She may look fine, but her face is tense and her every breath sounds like something of a fight in itself.
The Piccolos are going to pay for this.
And to think, that all this time Torrie knew...
I stand up, start pacing. I won’t think of it now. I can’t. Hannah is all that matters.
Hannah’s body shudders with a cough.
I crouch down, and one of her eyes peeks open, blinks sleepily before closing again.
“Hannah?” I say softly, and she smiles.
The other eye peeks open, and she murmurs, “Black on... black on...”
I laugh, feel like lifting her up right here and now. But instead, as both of her eyes open, I help her into a sitting position.
Regarding me with an amused sort of stupor, she declares, “You saved me. I knew you would.”
I throw my arms around her, and she hugs me back.
I hold her tight, never want to let her go, never want to have this moment end. This moment before I know. I don’t want to know what they did to her and yet, I have to.
As we draw apart, Hannah nods, reads my thoughts with a grin.
“Don’t worry. It wasn’t that bad.”
I scrutinize her face.
“So, you... remember?”
Another prompt nod.
“Everything. Though I do feel like an idiot for getting conned by Carlos when I was trying to con him.”
She gets up and flops down on the couch. I flop down beside her.
“So, you knew all along?” I ask, and she nods, brushes her bangs out of her eyes.
“Thought I could help for a change.”
“Want me to give you a minute, Boss?” Pip asks.
He’s risen from the other couch. I stare at him. He looks happy but uncomfortable. I’d forgotten he was here at all.
But Hannah shakes her head, sighs.
“No, everyone already knows how stupid I’ve been. I mean, I thought I could get information from him, maybe mess with him a bit, but I think he knew all along. When he caught me snooping in his phone, it was all over.” She frowns, shakes her head, murmurs, “Thank God you came, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if...”
