He’s still sitting there, hurt pretty badly, blood gushing from his wound. But it’s not enough. I never half-ass things or leave them to chance.
“Oh shit, someone call an ambulance,” I say to the closest onlookers, making them back off and fumble with their smartphones. It gives me the time and space I need to get in close.
My target’s beady eyes lock onto me, and I can feel the hatred and anger there. But he’s very nearly crippled, his neck might’ve even broken. I reach in as if testing his pulse, but I’m feeling his spine.
Nope, not quite broken.
“Is he okay?” someone asks from a dozen feet behind me.
My leather-gloved hands take hold of that lousy prick’s neck and head, and I twist. The snapping noise is loud, and I hear someone at a distance cry, “What’s that?!” But I ignore it.
I release the limp man, let his head dangle loosely as I turn and begin to walk away.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say, but my hearts not quite in the act. He’s just another slime ball who had it coming. I make my way into a nearby shopping complex, head toward the bathrooms before veering off, making my way through to exit out a side door.
The job’s done, and while there were unavoidable witnesses, I just look like someone who got into an accident and couldn’t handle it. I’ll be gone from this city in no time anyhow, and there is no trace of me in the car I was driving. I’ll be nothing more than a ghost of a memory after I head back to New York.
I’ll let Alicia know once I’m there.
As I peel off the bloody gloves and dispose of them in a trash can, my phone comes to life. I can’t ignore it, not with the way things are, so I slip it out of my pocket.
It’s Alicia.
I should turn it off, send her sweet self to my voicemail. Preserve a little memory, a glimpse of what I could have, if I were a different man, living a different life. But my gut won’t let me. I never ignore my gut instinct.
“Yes?” I answer, but the panicked heavy breathing I hear on the other side already tells me what I need to know: she’s in serious trouble.
14
Alicia
Hearing his voice gives me a jolt of relief. I know he’s probably the last person in the world I should trust, but somehow, I know he’s going to protect me. And right now, I definitely need protection.
I don’t know what’s happening, not really, but everything in my bones is screaming at me that something is wrong. Maybe it’s my women’s intuition, or the fact that the bright light of day seems so eerie. Maybe it’s just that Eva’s come and checked in on me twice, and not just out of boredom. She says there’s nothing wrong, but there’s definitely something up, and whatever it is, I’m on edge. I’m not going to pretend that it’s all in my head like I did with Mr. Gallego.
I’m not going to pretend I can handle anything that comes my way. I know better than that now.
“Something’s wrong,” I manage as I peek out the window. All I can see are blue skies and lazy cars driving along, nothing out of the ordinary. So why is my gut screaming at me that I’m in danger?
I strain my ears, and I hear a scuffle in the next room. Is that just my neighbor or... Maybe it is all in my head. Maybe I’m just jumpy and want Mikhail back by my side and this is the only way I can do it.
“I’m on my way,” he says to me with that voice that convinces me he’s going to have everything under control in no time. That husk of his is the sound of a man who never lets anyone get away with anything he doesn’t want them to.
Though we hang up, I creep to the door again, only to hear a loud thud from outside. Then shit starts to get very real as I peek out the door and see Eva point a gun out beneath the curtains. Gunshots go off, both hers and another, but I’m screaming, I can’t help it!
“Stay down!” Eva shouts at me, but I’m already falling to my knees.
I can see only shadows move across the window through the curtains, and along the crack beneath the door. But multiple figures are beating at the door and firing shots inside.
I’m surrounded by killers, and all I’ve ever been is an office employee, hidden from the violence of the world. And now, I’m really regretting not taking up those self-defense courses! I’ve never known the depths of helplessness until now, and I edge away from the door and windows.
A bullet rips through the shitty stucco of the motel room, grazing my calf, but the weird thing is that I barely feel it, even though I’m still screaming like a maniac. Even as the blood starts to drip, it’s like I’m in a daze. I look around the room, trying to find some shelter, and then I see it.