The Lost Night

by Megan Maguire

  He returns with the block and his hockey stick. The hockey stick, I’m assuming is for comfort.

  “You buy that expensive stick with the money you got from Lona?”

  “Yeah.” He holds it up. “Is this heavy enough to break the ice?” He raps the block with his stick.

  “I hope so. I should be able to lob it close to the body. The ice is smooth there. It’s harder to break through where it’s all jagged. Once the block weakens the ice, his weight should take care of the rest and send him through.”

  His lips part and I can see his breath. “How do you know all this?”

  “I don’t.”

  He clutches his stick close to his chest. “I’m gonna be sick, Dylan.”

  “We’re almost through this.” I pick up the block.

  “Maybe we should call the cops and tell them what happened.”

  “Jake, you don’t know everything that happened back there.”

  “But this doesn’t feel right.”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  Holding the block with two hands, I twist to the right and pitch it forward. It lands a foot from the body, cracking the ice in a web pattern. We wait. The block and the body stay on the ice.

  “Try again.” He steps out.

  “I’ll get it.” I tug him back.

  I keep an eye on the widening rift under my boots as I inch toward the body. The farther out I walk, the thinner the ice becomes. I lift the block and hear the sound of a crack that echoes across the frozen river, but turn and see that it’s Jake tapping the ice with his stick.

  “Stop that.”

  “What?”

  “You’re freaking me out. That sound is gonna give me a heart attack.” I slide my feet back to him.

  “Sorry.”

  I hurl the block again, and it goes straight through this time. Water streams out of the hole and a puddle forms around the body.

  “Push him closer so we can go,” Jake says.

  “I’m too heavy. If I don’t stay a few feet away when he sinks, I’ll go down with him.”

  Jake takes a couple steps out, a couple more, and I stay next to him, holding his shoulder. He reaches way out with his stick and nudges the guy’s legs, getting his lower half to slide closer to the hole. “Dylan, he’s not gonna fit in that tiny hole.”

  “It’s a weak spot. It’ll open up.” My cell rings, sending him running back to the bank.

  “That scared the shit outta me,” he says.

  “It’s Sean. Hold on … Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Eddie’s not answering his cell.”

  “He’s supposed to be waiting for our call.”

  “I know. Are you done yet? I’m heading back your way.”

  “Almost.” I shudder at the sound of Jake striking the ice with his stick again. “Jake, stop it.”

  He eases up a little but doesn’t stop. It’s a habit. All the players on his team do it. The stick making contact with the ice hypnotizes them. I’ve watched the kids at his games, not even aware they’re doing it.

  “What should we do about Eddie?” Sean asks. “He’s supposed to be in the area with his crew.”

  “I can’t think about him right now. Let me finish here and I’ll call you back. I gotta get this guy in so we can leave.” I put my cell in my pocket and take out a cigarette, needing a second to figure this out.

  I can probably drive the body forward with Jake’s stick, far enough onto the weak spot. Tap. It all depends on how slick it is out there. Tap. Tap. “Jake, I’m gonna send you and that stick into the river if you don’t stop tapping the ice!”

  “Sorry,” he says. “I messed up, Dylan. I messed everything up.”

  “No. Sean and I did.”

  “I killed him.”

  “It’s my fault, Jake. Not yours.”

  Wind barrels across the ice. I turn away and flick my lighter, shake it, and try again.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Flick. Flick.

  “Dammit.” I rest my hands on my knees and hang my head low, waiting for the wind to stop. I’m fuming over Ed not being here and shaken by the two guys who jumped us. This night is a disaster.

  “I wanna leave.” Jake taps his stick, stepping out on the ice. “Just push the guy and get it over with.” He taps again, moving closer. “Do it, Dylan. I don’t wanna be here!” Tap. Tap.

  “Stop it!” My temper flares. I spin around, warning him with a shove. He lands on his knees and drops his stick. I turn away from him, flicking my lighter, sucking in the short flares, dying to get it lit.

  “Dylan.” His voice quavers.

  The repetitive flicks fade as the north wind speaks. It blows against my back and down my neck, constricts my chest and crushes my ribs.

  “Dylan!”

  My blood runs cold. The river vibrates under my boots, climbing up my legs to tunnel inside the chambers of my heart.

  In an instant, the water is resurrected from a deep sleep to swallow Jake whole, announcing itself with a splash and a gasp.

  • • •

  “His stick was the only thing left when I turned around. It was that fast.” I cry on Autumn’s shoulder. “I heard him scream under the ice, but I couldn’t see him.” Her fingers rake through my hair as we sit on the curb in the snow. “I told my parents he wanted to show me where he had played a pick-up game earlier with his friends.” I sit up and sniff, arms folded tight to my chest. “But when we got there, he saw a patch of black ice on the river and said he needed to slide on it. That’s what I told everyone, that Jake couldn’t stay away from the ice because he was a hockey player. I tried, but I couldn’t stop him.”

  “Shh,” she soothes. “It’s okay.”

  “I lied. I couldn’t mention the party or the guys we killed. I never even told Sean I shoved Jake and he slid onto a patch of thin ice. I never told anyone it was my fault!”

  “Dylan, you—”

  “I killed Jake.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “He was gone in two seconds.” I wipe my nose in my coat sleeve. “Then Heather. She left me too.” I rock back and forth. “Relief never comes, Autumn. It never comes.”

  “Dylan.” She cups my wet chin. “You didn’t kill him.”

  I let out a forlorn howl, hemorrhaging to death inside. Suddenly, I’m unable to catch my breath.

  “Just breathe,” she says. “Settle down and breathe for me.”

  “Impossible.” I twitch. The street light overhead buzzes then flicks. I look up, but the light’s not there. “How can I breathe when I’m drowning?”

  25

  Time.

  It’s taken me a year to reveal how that night played out. A secret that never left my lips now resides with Autumn. Granted, Ed already told her, as if somehow he knew. He asked me why I snapped and killed Trevor, and if I had done the same to Jake. He told Autumn I might’ve killed my brother. He brought it up like he was at the river that night, and now I’m questioning if the headlights Jake thought he saw were his.

  Time.

  It took an eternity to deal with Trevor. We waited an hour for Gage to open the garage door and take him off our hands, hoping one of Nick’s thugs wouldn’t kill us after delivering the body. We made it out alive, another secret Autumn and I will share for a lifetime.

  Time.

  It took only a second for Autumn to convince me we weren’t going back to the party. No fancy food, slow dances, or conversations with wealthy older men. I had no reason to object. The faster we got out of there, the better.

  Five minutes became ten.

  Now ten are ticking into twenty.

  Vehicles come and go from the parking lot next to Autumn’s loft. We sit in her car and talk, watching clumps of wet snow slide down the windshield.

  I don’t expect her to comfort me entirely. She can’t say it’s okay or it was an accident because it’s not, and it wasn’t. But she listens to me reminisce about Jake, and th
at’s all that I need right now.

  Time.

  We laugh about the present and cry about the past, huddled inside the high collars of our coats, our hands in our pockets, legs swinging. When she looks at me and smiles, and I blush, I know that it’s going to happen. She’s about to invite me inside.

  “It’s time,” she says.

  She steps out and stands in front of the car with her hand raised in anticipation of mine. We bundle together and walk into her building, taking the stairs to the second floor.

  I continually wet my lips. Autumn does the same. It’s telling. We know what we’re about to do, and I admit that I’m nervous. The expectations tonight are different than having emotionless sex with someone who approached me at the bar. I’m under a lot of pressure.

  She squeezes my hand and opens the door to her loft, then locks us in and motions me to follow her to the bedroom. Coats drop to the floor in the hallway. Then our shoes are kicked off. She closes the door to her room and lights a candle. The small flame casts flickering shadows onto the walls and ceiling. I smile and cross to where she stands, unzipping her dress and sliding it off her shoulders. She helps by unhooking her bra and removing her tights and panties, kicking everything off to the side. I pull her close and dip my head for a kiss, first on the curve of her jaw and then the lips.

  “You’re stunning,” I whisper, my eyes poring over her.

  She unravels her bun and lets her hair cascade down, poofing it out with her fingers, leaving it looking messy, but seductive. “Do you want me?” She steps forward and unbuttons my shirt, spreading her fingers across my chest.

  “Every inch of you.”

  I pull the Glock out of the back of my pants, along with my wallet and a condom, placing everything on her nightstand. My heart beats faster when she unbuckles my belt and helps me undress. We stand naked to one another, taking simultaneous deep breaths until she makes the first move and picks up the condom.

  The tension in the room disappears when she rolls it on me and says, “Six inches.”

  I push her playfully onto the bed and say, “Eight.”

  We laugh and slip under her white comforter. The bed is cold, but our bodies are on fire. I kiss my way down her chest, nibbling around her navel ring while taking her breast in my hand.

  “Make sure you look at me,” she whispers.

  I climb over top of her, staring adoringly into her eyes. “I’ll be looking at you the whole time, Autumn.” I trace her hairline and shake my head at how lucky I am to be with her tonight. Her heated breath fans my face as my hand slinks down her belly, dipping low between her legs.

  “Dylan.” She brings my hand back up. “Believe me. I’m more than ready.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Okay,” she whispers back.

  I straighten my arms and lift my upper body, giving her all the control to guide me inside when she’s ready. I shudder the moment I experience her warmth, relieved that she shows no signs of pain or regret once I start to move.

  She locks her legs around my hips, easing into my slow rhythm. “Fantastic,” she says, grabbing my chest to direct the pace. Her sexy open-mouthed expression sends my eyes into a haze. I thrust harder, connecting to her energy. She arches her back and pushes her hips with mine, her body tightening in anticipation.

  We send the iron headboard knocking into the wall for some time, and I know by the sound deep in her throat and the way that she’s clenching at the sheets that I’m doing something right.

  I kiss her madly when her muscles start to spasm. She breaks free of my mouth to moan my name but then instantly latches back on, needing to bury her cries. I feed on her orgasm, suddenly overcome with my own rapid release, sliding deeper into her, rocking until the pulsations and trembling subsides.

  She looks up with a pleased smile, her eyes soft and set on mine. “Perfect,” she says, her foot slithering up the back of my leg.

  “Yeah, you are perfect.” I nestle my head into her pillow and smile to myself. “I think we should do this as much as possible.”

  “Tonight. Definitely. As much as you can.”

  “Tonight, and for a long-ass time after tonight.” I hold the base of the condom and pull out, surprised when she pushes my hand away and rolls it off. No one’s ever done that before.

  She slides out from under me and takes it out of the room, returning a minute later with two beers.

  I raise my eyes to the ceiling in total wonder. “I’ve found a girl who’ll take care of the condom and get me a cold beer after sex.”

  “While naked,” she adds.

  I shake my head in disbelief and take the bottle from her hand. “Yeah, while naked. You’re not real.”

  “Maybe not.” She props the pillows alongside the headboard and sits next to me, our fingers interlaced and toes touching, clinking beer bottles before we drink.

  “This is nice,” I say.

  “It is nice. I’m comfy with you, even though you’re hiding a bunch of stuff from me.”

  I pretend I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about. Except I suck at keeping a straight face after sex.

  She smirks against her beer. “So you’re going back to work tomorrow?”

  Good. She changed the subject. “Yeah. Tomorrow night. I apologized to my dad for the constant fighting.”

  “Are you still doing jobs for Dorazio?”

  “Oh.” I shift. Now she’s bringing it up again. “I haven’t heard of anything going on. I mean, with any dealers. That last house should’ve been it for me.”

  “Doubt it. He’ll keep hounding you, and one day you’ll end up dead.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I rub my chin, debating if I should tell her that Nick ordered me to kill him. “I told Ed last year I was through, but he kept bribing me with Heather’s note. Then he threatened Sean and me. He said he’d arrest us if we wanted out, so I guess I have to wait and see what happens.”

  “What happens with what?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrug.

  “Dylan, tell me.”

  “Well, what about you?”

  “Me what?”

  “What does Nick have on you?” She holds her beer to her lips. “Autumn?” She chugs and chugs. “Autumn?” I lower the bottle from her mouth, but she won’t answer. “He wanted you to kill Trevor, but I got in the way. He never got that total control over you, not when you can pin Trevor’s murder on me. You have an ‘out.’ I get all that. But is there something else?”

  “There’s always something else.” She sets the beer on the nightstand and straddles my legs. “You talk first. I can’t imagine Nick asked for Trevor’s body and nothing else. He could’ve just had me bring it to him. I know something’s up.”

  “Nope.” I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  “Did he ask you to kill me?”

  “What?” I sit straight up. “Of course not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Hey, you’re holding back on me, too.”

  “True.” She twists her lips. “How about we make a deal?”

  I knock back half the beer and place the bottle next to hers on the nightstand. “What do you have in mind?”

  “You tell me about Nick, and I’ll get Dorazio off your back.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why?” She tilts her head.

  “Because you can’t get Dorazio off my back, and because I want you to go first. You talk. Then me.”

  She creeps closer, breasts hanging low. I take them in my hands and sink below her, putting one in my mouth, releasing it with a loud smack of my lips. “You’re irresistible … and you’re trying to seduce me.”

  “Also true.” She runs her fingers through my hair, leaning in close, squashing her nose to mine. “New deal. I’m going to tell you a story about Nick and Dorazio, and you’re going to tell me what Nick wants from you.”

  “Then what?”

  “Well”—she bites and tugs
on my bottom lip—“as a reward, how about a long night caked in sweat with the sheets twisted around our legs?” She hooks my chin. “A hot night of sex, Dylan. Hours and hours of our naked bodies pressed together. Throbbing naked bodies. Neither one of us will be able to walk in the morning.”

  I don’t hesitate when I say, “Deal.”

  26

  Autumn Black must be a sorceress to get me to agree to this, but I trust her more than I trust the mayor. He said to keep my mouth shut. Autumn said to open it, so I opened it and told her what was up. Now all I have to do is kill Eddie Dorazio, and Autumn will take care of the rest.

  Standing in the alley next to the bar, I place my Glock in my waistband. I swiftly slide it back out, turning it from side to side, admiring its beauty. I put it away and pull it out again. “Awesome,” I whisper. I shouldn’t have it out. I put it back. I’ll take it out when Ed’s here. I have to learn to be patient.

  I shouldn’t own a gun.

  I try not to think about it, taking my cell out instead. Ed’s late. Four-fifteen in the morning, it’ll be daylight in a couple of hours.

  I smoke and pace in the alley, off my game after a night of wild sex and then a ten-hour shift at the bar. I need sleep, but I need to kill Ed to be able to sleep. I probably won’t sleep after I kill him. It’s a vicious circle.

  The streets are still, businesses are empty, and Northland is asleep under raven-black darkness. I shake my foot after stepping in a slush puddle. Water seeps into my boot and soaks through my sock. After two days of balmy forty-degree temperatures, the runoff of melted snow has risen in the streets. Icy pools are hard to avoid, the dead fish smell even harder.

  “Make it quick,” Ed says, walking into the alley with his baton swinging at his side. “Traitor.”

  I tuck my cell away and grip my gun. “Traitor? How so?”

  He stops in front of me, nudging the baton into my collarbone. “You went to the mayor’s and talked about me, didn’t you? What did you say to him? Huh?”

  “I didn’t.”