by Teagan Kade
I know how crazy that seems, but it’s funny how you think when it’s someone you know.
Someone you love.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it, pulling it tight to the blanket. “These are some gooooood drugs you’ve got here.”
I give a short laugh. “You can thank Mark and Lynna for that,” I reply. “They really kitted this place out.”
She closes her eyes, her words slurred. “I could totally have sex with you right now.”
“I don’t know if that would be the best idea, but I’m going to stay right here regardless.”
“Thank you,” she says with a little smile, her face slackening with sleep.
*
I spend the next couple of hours monitoring her closely. She wakes once or twice before drifting back to sleep. She looks good, I think, better than expected given what she’s been through.
I’m surprised when I come back into the room to find her awake, sitting up on the couch, her hand loosely holding her side.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting up.”
She stands before I can stop her, wincing and bent, but managing to hobble towards me. “Huh, not so bad.”
“You really shouldn’t—”
But she stretches out, yawning before pulling in tight with pain again. “Damn that stings.”
I try to guide her back to the couch, but she won’t have it, slapping my hand away. “I’m fine, Ethan. We need to get back to work.”
Work?
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You can’t seriously be thinking about looking for your father, still.”
But I know that resolve in her eyes now when I see it.
“It came to me,” she says, “while I was sleeping. There’s this beach house he liked to go to, completely off the books. He proposed to my mother there, kept it as a sort of secret getaway. I only went there once or twice, but I think I know where it is. I think I can direct us there.”
Arguing with her is pointless, but I’m not doing this alone again. “We’re calling Mark and Lynna first.”
Sofia nods. “Okay.”
I call the FBI agents, keeping the phone on speaker so we can both hear. Lynna sounds relieved more than anything. They tell us they heard there was a shoot-out, figured we were involved. That relief turns to concern when I tell them Sofia’s been injured. I don’t say ‘shot,’ instead keeping the details scant.
After assuring them she’s okay, they agree to pick us up and follow up on this beach house lead of Sofia’s. “We’ve got nothing else, sorry,” confesses Mark. “Wherever Joseph is, he’s not in the city.”
I dose Sofia up again, warning her we have to regulate her meds, especially considering her head. “Are you sure you want to come? We can stay here.”
“I’m the only one who knows the way,” she says. “I can’t point it out on a map, but if we’re driving…”
I breathe in. “Alright, but no more superhero antics, okay? We stay put and let the agents do the work.”
She raises her hands. “Fine by me. Any more bullet holes and I’ll start to look like Swiss cheese.”
I know she’s joking, but the thought of her being shot again is enough to cause a cold chill to sweep through me. I dropped my guard, let her get shot a second time. I’m not going to let it happen a third.
*
It’s just like old times—Mark and Lynna up front, Sofia and me in the back—as we drive through the night.
I can tell Sofia’s struggling but doing her best not to let it show. I don’t think she’s fooled Lynna either; she keeps eyeing us in the rear-view.
An hour later we pull up in a dark suburban street, the sound of the ocean audible even though our windows are up. It’s not the kind of place I’d imagine a Russian gangster to be hiding out at all, but then Sofia said this house was off the books, a special hideaway.
Sofia points out the window. “That’s the one. Seventy-six.”
The house itself is an old bungalow, far from the extravagance I expected. In many ways, it’s the perfect place to hide out. There are lights on, a dark SUV parked in the garage down the side.
Mark takes out a set of binoculars from the glovebox.
“You got a fix on those plates?” Lynna asks.
Mark places the binoculars down and checks something on his phone. “It’s him.”
“How can you be sure he’s inside?” I add.
As if to answer my question, the front door opens and Sofia draws in a tight breath. I know immediately it’s Joseph. He stands there in slacks and a simple cotton shirt, the glow of a lit cigarette turning on and off like a miniature beacon.
He’s out there less than thirty seconds before heading back inside.
Mark drops the binoculars. “Confirmed. It’s him.”
Lynna’s already tapping away on her phone. “I’m contacting my mentor right now we have Joseph’s location.”
Sofia shares a hopeful look with me.
The dialogue is brief between Lynna and this mentor of hers.
She hangs up, swiveling around in her seat to address us. “He’s going to send agents to handle the arrest within the hour.”
“A bird?” asks Mark, referring to a helicopter.
Lynna nods with confirmation. “Until then, all we have to do is keep him here or follow him if he tries to leave, but if you ask me, he’s looking pretty damn cozy.”
I look out the window at the house, a shadow passing by one of the front windows. It’s all looking a little—
There’s a tap on Lynna’s window.
Even in the poor light I can tell it’s Fredek. He’s got a gun pointed to the window.
Mark goes to get out his weapon but there’s a tap against his window, Dimitri standing there smiling with his own gun raised.
And that’s not all. There are five, six more men surrounding the car now, all with weapons.
No one says it, but I know what we’re all thinking.
Fuck.
Fredek taps the glass again, motioning for Lynna to wind down the window.
“Stay calm,” Lynna whispers, before complying.
Fredek leans in, winking at Sofia in the back. “I’m going to need you all to come inside.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SOFIA
There’s no choice in the matter. Mark and Lynna hand over their weapons.
We’re herded towards the house. I try to keep Ethan behind me, to shield him, but he jumps in front regardless.
My wound is aching, a deep pulsing pain, and that’s to say nothing for my head, which seems to be throbbing in sympathy.
You’re a sad state of affairs, aren’t you, Sof? I tell myself.
The odd thing is, I’m reasonably composed. I don’t know if this is something I’ve taught myself, or maybe I’m simply immune to fear at this point, but I’m not worried even though I’m pretty sure we’re marching to our deaths here.
My suspicion is confirmed when we reach the basement of the beach house.
My father waits there in what is a chilling tableau. There’s drop-cloth spread underfoot to protect the hardwood floors, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because they’re looking to redecorate.
Lynna and Mark share a look, but if they’re planning something they’ve got to know we’re sorely outnumbered here.
Numbers aside, I’m not intending to go down without a fight, and I’m pretty sure Ethan’s in the same boat. It feels nice in a way, selfish that someone would be prepared to give their life for yours, but I don’t want him to.
I don’t want anyone to die.
Even my father.
He stands there with his hands in front of him and looks more sad than excited. Perhaps he hoped I wouldn’t be found. Still, his expression does nothing to stop my rising anger.
I step forward, two goons closing in each side of my father. “Why?” I ask him. “I’m your daughter. Your flesh and blood.”
He takes a step towards me, s
haking his head. His eyes find mine but they’re as cold as the ocean outside. The hint of old tattoos can be seen under his collar, a scar from a knife fight cutting across his left cheek. “Do you think I want this, Sofia?”
“Yes!” I shout. “I’ve been shot, shot at, and for what?” I spin around pointing at Fredek and Dimitri. “How could you?”
They’re expressionless.
I’m hoping this outrage might buy some time, anything, but an hour’s a long time to wait for the cavalry.
“Sofia,” starts my father, his voice calm and measured, as always. That was one thing I always admired about my father. He didn’t shout or gesticulate like the Italians. He kept cool at all times. “You betrayed us. You betrayed me. You would have happily burned this family to the ground, your own flesh and blood, as you said it. You know the old laws don’t allow for that, for any sign of mercy. Betrayal is the biggest sin. It has to be punished accordingly.”
I’m doing my best to hold back tears, emotion coming out of nowhere to grip me tight. “You can stop this.”
He breathes in, firming up and standing straighter. “For this betrayal, doch, my child, I will feel no remorse, nor for any of your friends here. Their involvement has sealed their fate.”
I’m gritting my teeth so hard my jaw hurts, but I can’t find a suitable reply, a way to tell him I don’t believe a word from his mouth.
I don’t need to.
“Now!” shouts Lynna behind me.
I turn and see her elbow Dimitri in the head, hard enough to send him into the wall. At the same time Mark lunges for Fredek, pinning him into the floor as they both wrestle for his gun.
The goon closest to my father draws his weapon, but Lynna’s managed to free Dimitri’s gun. She shoots the goon to the left of my father twice in the chest.
The goon on the right fires at Mark, but he pulls Fredek in front of him to take the brunt of the bullets.
Adrenaline floods my system.
My father, slow to react until now, sees me coming.
I lunge for him thankful the pain meds are still working. He goes to deflect me, but with a scream I take hold of his neck and swing around behind him, taking the gun I know he always keeps down his pants and planting it hard into the square of his back.
He jerks forward with his hands above his head. “Easy!” he shouts.
I take in the scene.
Ethan is moving to Mark for cover, blood running from Fredek’s mouth. Lynna has Dimitri, but two more goons have come down the stairs, entering the room with guns raised.
The goon that was to the right of my father has turned his gun on me, but I swivel back into the corner, holding my father in front of me. “Don’t!” I shout, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Another step and I’ll put one right through him.”
It’s tense, but everyone stops, guns shifting, no one quite knowing where to aim or what to do.
I can see Ethan crouching behind Mark, ready to move, but this is my mess. I have to be the one to clean it up.
“Sofia?” asks Lynna, knowing how volatile the situation is.
I jerk my head towards the bottom of the stairs. “You two,” I say, nodding to the goon to the right of my father. “And you. Drop your weapons… now.”
When they don’t move accordingly, I bring the gun to the side of Dad’s head, holding it there as hard as I can. “Drop. Your. Weapons!” I bellow.
My father laughs. “You won’t kill me, child.”
No one’s doing a damn thing.
I’ve had enough.
I bring the gun down to the space behind my father’s knee and fire once, a terrible scream of pain following, fragments of bone exploding outwards as he collapses to the side.
I place the tip of the gun back against his head. “Drop them!”
That does the trick, my father nodding and the three goons slowly lowering their weapons to the floor. Mark and Lynna go about scooping them up, handing one to Ethan, who comes around to help cover.
My father’s still screaming in pain. “You bitch!” he cries in Russian. “You fucking bitch!”
I ignore it and march him to the center of the room, fishing in his pocket for his cell and tossing it to Lynna. “Here. Call it in.”
She nods and dials.
I might have been calm before, but my heart’s thumping now.
Conveniently, there are heavy-duty cable ties in the corner of the room along with a camcorder and an assortment of tools and instruments that look like they’re seen their share of action. I’m just thankful no one got a chance to use them on us.
Mark, Ethan, and Lynna see to tying up the others. I zip my father’s wrists tight and fold him down into the corner.
His eyes are wide and manic, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. His composure is lost.
He continues to curse and blubber in broken Russian. I find an old cloth and stuff it into his mouth. “No more,” I tell him. “I’m done with you.”
Mark stands, checking the weapon in his hands. “I’m going to head upstairs, make sure we don’t have any more company.”
“I’ll cover you,” says Ethan, drawing in behind him and looking back at me. And what is it I see there as he looks at me—surprise, pride? He’s gone before I can work it out.
It’s another twenty minutes before the FBI agents Lynna called arrive. I keep a tight grip on my father’s gun in case they’re dirty, but it soon becomes clear they’re on our side. In no time they’ve bundled off the goons, Dimitri spitting at my feet as he’s lead away, Fredek unable to do anything at all considering, well, he’s dead. In many ways, my father got off easy.
Soon the place is swarming with paramedics and agents, police…
“You must feel right at home,” I tell Ethan as he comes out onto the street. A large crowd has gathered around the house, cordoned off by the local cops.
Ethan’s face alternates between red and blue as he stands there. “Honestly? I just want to get as far away from here as possible.”
I tuck myself into his chest. “You and me both.”
I see them leading my father away, literally dragging him to the back of an ambulance. He’s fed inside and the doors closed, the sirens coming on and a police car swinging in behind it.
I watch the ambulance moving through the crowd and I can’t stop the flood of tears that follows.
I cry against Ethan’s chest until I can’t summon a single tear more. He holds me there, tells me to let it all out.
It’s strange, but I don’t think I ever prepared myself for the fact I’d be the one to send my father to prison. It hurts to have that role, to have played that part, even if it was the right thing to do.
I bring my hand down to my side, wincing at the warmth there.
Ethan holds me back. “What is it?” His hand runs under my shirt. “Shit. The stitches have come open. He looks around, spotting a paramedic coming out of the house. “Hey, you!”
I’m led to the back of an ambulance and helped up onto a stretcher, Ethan helping close the rear doors and thumping the window leading to the cab.
He rides with me to the hospital, a ride that seems excruciatingly slow now the meds are staring to wear off, though a quick injection puts me back in La La Land. It’s enough to put me completely out of reality until I wake in a new bed, with bright lights and the familiar smell of bleach ever-present.
“There she is.”
My eyes focus on that voice, the one that brought me back so long ago now, the voice I love.
Ethan’s standing beside my hospital bed smiling, his hand in mine. “Don’t worry. You tore your wound open, but they’ve stitched it back up good as new. You’re going to be a bit groggy, but the discharge papers are ready if you want to go home.
“More than anything,” I smile back.
*
It takes another hour for me to be discharged completely. Ethan leads me into the elevator and punches in the roof.
I laugh. “I don’t know if I�
��m in the mood for sightseeing right about now. Can’t we just go home?”
The doors ping open and he smiles. “We are.”
An FBI helicopter is waiting there on the rooftop helipad, Mark and Lynna standing beside it, the side door wide.
Ethan holds my head down, the two of us crouching against the rotor wash, my hair flapping wildly around my head as he helps me up into the chopper.
Mark and Lynna get in, Lynna sliding the door closed behind her and handing me a headset. I put it on and hear her voice.
“How are you feeling?”
I give her the thumbs up.
“Alright then,” she smiles. “Let’s get this bird in the sky and the hell out of here.”
EPILOGUE
FIVE YEARS LATER
SOFIA
I place the wad of mail on the outdoor table, huffing as I seat myself back in my chair.
Vanessa laughs, handing me a non-alcoholic cider. “You sure you should be doing that in your… condition?”
I give her an epic eye-roll. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“Not yet,” she laughs, taking a swig and leaning back in her chair.
Ahead, Ethan’s playing with Vanessa—well, Vanessa Junior, now two and the absolute light of our lives, though she’s about to get a rude shock when her baby brother arrives.
When we told Vanessa we planned to name our daughter after her, she played it off at first, joking, but I think we both knew what it meant to her, especially after she found out she couldn’t have children of her own.
Technically, we aren’t supposed to have visitors out here at all, but Ethan pressed Mark and Lynna to make one exception… not that Vanessa didn’t complain about trekking halfway across the country to get here.
“So this is Tamanass,” she’d said, surveying the backyard when she arrived, though it’s more open forest than backyard, the kind of beautiful Oregon green you simply don’t get anywhere else.
I have to admit, I was skeptical when Mark and Lynna first suggested this place. I’d never even been to this part of America before, never put on a pair of hiking boots, but slowly the quiet, subdued pace of the place has won us over. It’s a small, tight-knit community, a family of a different kind… and a long way from the reach of my father’s friends.
