Fighting (49 page)

"What
you just said, do you know what that's called?"  He didn't respond, which
I took to mean
Please, do go on.
  "It's called an empty threat. 
Because Fletcher won't let you do anything to me and my people aren't that
easily beaten."

He
stepped forward and made no bones about his intent to keep me quiet.  He
backhanded me so hard, fresh blood gushed from my nose and my neck popped.  I
raised my cuffed hands and wiped at my face, trying in vain to ignore the
screaming pain in my face.  I shook my head to try and clear my vision that was
blurred for a hot minute and frowned at him.

"Careful. 
You're burning bridges here, Virgil," I said.

I
spit out excessive saliva that was starting to pool in my mouth before I let it
drool down my face.  Damn, my face hurt as bad as my knuckles.  I had to stop
antagonizing people and making them want to hit me while I was restrained.

"Keep
your mouth shut or I'll fix it so that you can't talk," he threatened.

I
smiled a bloody smile at him.  "Fletcher okay with that?"

"I
don't much care about the details of the job, I just get it done," he
said.

"Babysitting? 
I bet you could get better rates in suburbia.  Of course, those people are
particular about volatile babysitters, which seems to be your style."

He
rolled his eyes and sat back down on the desk, but instead of staring at me he
pulled out his cell phone and a pair of headphones.  That bastard watched a
fucking movie while holding me hostage.  What's the world coming to these days?

I
tried to talk to him but it was like talking to an unresponsive wall because he
had the volume so loud, I could hear the tinny sound from across the room.  He
still had the gun in one hand, so if I made a move that he considered
threatening, which to him would probably be scratching my nose, he would shoot
me.  So I sat there and stared at the wall.  And then him.  And then the door. 
And then him.  And then the ceiling.  All the while, no matter where I looked,
all I could think about was Ethan, Ollie, August, Spencer and Brooks.  It
sounds stupid but surely I would
feel
it if they weren't around
anymore.  Right?

Hours
passed with Virgil and Dick trading places periodically for bathroom breaks
that they didn't afford me.  The adrenaline in my body evaporated and I began
feeling the full effects of my injuries, both from taking hits and delivering
them.  Fatigue settled in my muscles and, unfortunately, my mind.  I was also
really thirsty because I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day.  My throat was
becoming scratchy like sandpaper and my already cracked and bleeding lips were
starting to burn.

I
would kill for some pain medicine.

Finally,
Fletcher reappeared.  "How's it going?" he asked casually.

He
motioned for Dick to leave the room to give us some privacy.

"Just
peachy."

He
perched on the desk, just like before.  I wanted to ask how much time had
passed, but I didn't want to ask anything of him just in case it brought him
joy to
allow
me to know something.  And I thought
I
liked
control. 

"I've
given you some time to think things over.  Have you come to a conclusion
yet?"

"The
conclusion that you're delusional?  I reached that days ago, Fletch."

His
mouth puckered.  "Don't call me that."

"You
know better than that," I lightly scolded.  "It only makes me
want
to call you that."

"If
you do what I ask, I'll cut one of your restraints and grant you some
freedom."

Sure,
I was stubborn, but I would be an absolute idiot if I didn't let him cut me at
least partially free.

"Fine,"
I sighed.  "Fletcher."

"Actually,
I'd prefer it if you called me Nigel."

"Whatever,"
I said irritably.  "Let me go."

He
narrowed his eyes but held his tongue and withdrew a knife to cut the tape from
around my torso.  He was quick to retreat to the desk and out of my range of
reach. 
Interesting
.

"If
only your people could see you now," he mused.  "Oh wait.  They
can't," he said faux regretfully.

My
blood pressure spiked and I swore to whoever was listening that he would pay
for whatever he had done.

"No
one is coming for you, so we have plenty of time to spend together until you
change your mind," he said conversationally.  "Do you have anything
to tell me?  Perhaps your feelings have changed," he suggested.

"Oh,
you're right.  I do have something new to share with you," I said
lightly.  His interest was piqued.  "You're a terribly handsome and
deceitfully cunning mastermind and I absolutely fucking
loathe
you,"
I snarled.  "I'm talking, passionately in
hate
with you."

His
eyes lit at that. 
What the hell
? 

"That's
it!" he pointed at me and semi-yelled, invigorated by whatever it was I
said that he latched on to.

"What's
it?" I asked, totally bewildered.

He
didn't even blink.  "That zest for me that you're denying yourself.  Feel
it.  Bask in it.  Set yourself free!"

Okay,
was it just me or did I somehow land myself in a cult commune by accident?  I
was stunned into silence and he took that to mean that I was finally seeing the
light of his words.

"There's
a fine line between love and hate, Alex.  What's important is that you
do
feel something strong for me.  It's that zest that I want to bring out in you! 
That spice you have for life," he said excitedly.

I
frowned at him.  Hard.  "This zest that you want to bring out in me has an
interesting side effect of making me want to hurt you.  Fatally."

He
sat back, disappointed.  "You'll come around.  You'll jump the line from
hate to love," he said confidently.

"Doubt
it," I muttered.

"I
think if you learn of some of my accomplishments, you'll be impressed and more
apt to join my side," he reasoned.

"Impressed?"
I asked disdainfully.

"Yes. 
Someone of your high caliber will undoubtedly recognize the skill and
brilliance behind my projects.  That's why I want you to join me.  Think of
what we could accomplish
together
with our combined abilities."

And
it hit me, like a ruthless kick to the head, what he was
really
after
from me.  He was lonely but he also craved validation.  He didn't just need
someone to tell him how great he was, he needed approval from someone
he
approved of or it had no significance.  Man just wanted some appreciation for
his evil genius.  Well, ain't that something?  Let's throw him a parade and
call it a day.  Here's to hoping he's just looking for a quick
Good job
and not a lifetime of
No one could have done it better, not even me
.

"Sure. 
Go ahead, hit me," I invited. 
Why not?  Everyone else in the building
has.

He
took a deep breath and seemed a little suspicious of my quick receptiveness. 
Shit, I was afraid of that.  That's such an amateur trap for me to have fallen
into.

"What
else am I going to do?  I've stared at the wall so hard, I could map out the
cracks in it blindfolded," I deadpanned.

He
relaxed a bit and checked his watch before folding his hands in his lap. 
"I only have a minute but I will give you one instance," he said. 
"Did you ever hear about that set of twins who went missing for a week
before they were returned home?"

"The
cute blonde girls?" I asked, getting a really bad feeling in my stomach.

"Yes. 
You're looking at the mastermind behind that operation," he said proudly.

Proudly
.  I wanted to throw up all over his
fancy shoes.  My face betrayed my absolute shock and he smiled, mistaking my
outrage for awe. 

"That
was you?" I asked.

"Yes."

"But
why?  What did you get out of that?"

"There
are always random kidnappings where the kidnapper gets a ransom and gets away
scot-free.  I'm capitalizing on that but organizing it so that the actual
kidnapper is never the same man.  The man I used for the twins was hired, and
so will the future project leaders.  They will all do exactly as I tell
them."  A pause.  "I am the man behind the veil," he said
theatrically.

"So
you'll never be caught because there's no evidence against you,
personally," I guessed.

"Bingo. 
And I made a massive amount of money from the twins.  Think about what it'd be like
if I did that ten times in a row."

"But
what about the kids whose parents won't be able to afford the ransom?" I
asked.

He
managed to look a bit regretful.  "Unfortunately, we can't just give the
kids back.  What message would that send to future victims?  Just wait it out
and you'll get your kids back?  No, we can't have that.  I've only dealt with
this first set of kids, but after this, if the parents can't follow through, we
have plans to put them somewhere.  There's room for everything on the black
market."

"You'll
sell them?" I asked, completely disgusted.

"It's
just business," he said casually.  He checked his watch again.  "Oh,
time's up.  I have somewhere to be shortly.  Anyhow, I've obtained this level
of power on my own.  Use this time wisely and think of the grand heights we
could reach together," he said, clapping his hands together once.

And
then he left.  Virgil walked back into the room and resumed his position at the
desk while I thought about Fletcher.  I hated him but on some level, I felt
sorry for him because somewhere down the line, something went wrong with his
life.  They say a woman's love can heal any man, and in his case, I'm sure
that's true if the woman were a psychiatrist with an exorbitant amount of
patience.  But that sure as hell wasn't me.

At
least an hour passed before Virgil stood up suddenly.  "Bathroom
break," he announced. 

He
left the room and when Dick didn't appear after a solid minute, I flew into
action.  I relaxed my arms and flattened my wrists so that they weren't pushing
against the wires and the tie loosened.  It was never really restraining my
wrists, I just made it seem like it was.  I had to work for a second to loop my
thumb under the wire, and as soon as I did that, I got one hand free and the
tie fell to the floor, useless.

I
tucked my hand into my boot and withdrew my favorite knife.  I quickly severed
my leg ties and stood up.  I knew I had to act quickly but quietly, so I sat
back down and removed a thick lace from one of my boots.  I silently approached
the door and put my ear against it to listen for any sounds.  Silence.

I
stood back and held my hand in front of the doorknob for a moment, gearing up
for what I was about to do.  I counted to three, and then slung open the door. 
It didn't even take an entire second for me to spot the only guy in the room. 
He was sitting guard in a chair just to the right of the door.  He whipped his
head toward me in total surprise, thinking I was still harmlessly bound to a
chair in the room.  I wrapped the thick bootlace around his neck and hauled him
backward viciously.  He was ripped from his chair and staggered to his feet as
he followed his instinct to claw at the shoelace desperately instead of
attacking me bodily.  I got him inside the room and kicked the door shut before
anyone heard the struggle.

I
twisted the bootlace tighter and wrapped a strong arm around his neck in a
choke hold.  He struggled but passed out after only four seconds.  I dropped
his dead weight into the chair and tagged the gun from his waistband, noticing
that it was Dick I had knocked out.  I set his gun on the ground and kicked it
a few feet away in case he woke up sooner than expected, then zip tied his legs
to the chair legs and his hands together behind his back.  He woke up right as
I cinched the last zip tie around his wrists.  Running out of time, I quickly
wound duct tape around his torso to lock him securely to the chair.  His head
tipped forward drowsily and I walked around to his front to see his eyelids
flutter open.  I ripped along the hemline of the front of my shirt right above
my navel so that my stomach was exposed and balled the cloth up. 

He
quickly caught up to the situation and looked around in alarm.  "Hey, what
the hell --"

I
stuffed the balled up cloth in his mouth and he continued to try to speak, but
it was muffled and indistinguishable.  I took my extremely long bootlace and
wrapped it around his face twice and tied it in a secure knot at the back of
his head to keep the cloth packed in his mouth.

I
picked up the gun from the floor and stood in front of him to look down at
him.  "I want you to think about something," I said.  "I don't
know you.  You don't know me.  This is just a job to you, but this is my
life."  I tilted my head at him in contemplation.  "I have your
gun."  His eyes zeroed in on it hanging loosely in my hand by my side. 
"What I want you to think about is that I could kill you right now." 
I tightened my grip on the gun and withdrew my knife from my boot.  His eyes
flashed between them repeatedly.  "Several different ways."

He
started wiggling around in the chair, trying fruitlessly to escape, so I jammed
my foot against the seat right at his crotch to still his movement. 

"But
I'm not going to.  I choose instead to tie you to a chair and leave you
alive."  I removed my foot, leaned an inch closer and spoke slowly and deliberately
so he could hear me over his heaving breath.  "So if you come after me for
revenge, Richard, what will you be avenging except for the fact that I let you
live?" I asked quietly. 

He
stared at me with wide eyes and tried to say something but I ignored him as I
replaced my knife and turned my back on him to shed Ethan's jacket.  As much as
I wanted to keep it close to me, it was weighing me down.  I slid through the
door and it clicked shut mutely.  I whispered down a hallway and paused outside
of another room.

"What
do you want us to do with the bodies once they get here?" a man asked.

I
was completely frozen with terror. 
Bodies
? 
They really did kill
them
?  No, it couldn't be true.  There was absolutely no way!  The horror
of my absolute worst fear chipped away at my resolve and my lungs failed to
suck in air. 

"Fletcher
said to stash them in an abandoned building near us until she breaks.  When we
leave, we'll burn the building down to hide the evidence.  She'll never know
they were so close to her all this time.  It's a shame they had to die, but
it's just business," another man said casually.

I
collapsed against the wall and bowed my head in defeat as my heart broke into a
thousand tiny, jagged shards.  It was happening to me all over again.  My
family was dead and this time, it was my fault.  Everything inside of me
stopped, including my heart.  My face crumpled and my vision blurred as tears
flooded my eyes.  The echo of our laughter from the night before reverberated
in my mind, haunting me.  Ollie?  August, Spencer, Brooks, all gone from me? 

I can't breathe.

Ethan? 
My Ethan, who I barely had time to be with?  Taken from me?  Our future
together
stolen
?  I loved all of them but I was
in love
with
Ethan.  I finally understood what it meant to have someone else be your other
half just in time for it to be ripped away from me ruthlessly. 

I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

I
clenched my eyes closed and the tears were forced to rain down my face.  Their
faces flashed through my mind individually in remembrance, flaunting what I no
longer had, shredding my mind anew with the ghost of each smile.

"And
business is booming, eh?" another man laughed.

He
laughed.

Something
vital inside of me broke irreparably.  I stood up straight, my crumpled face relaxed
and my tears dried.  My burning lungs finally swelled with air and my heart
started beating again, pumping venom instead of blood, infecting my mind and
body with acid that burned like ice through my veins and disintegrated my
empathy.  I felt only coldness but I couldn't care.  That disconnected feeling
that Ethan helped shatter was back with a vengeance and I knew on a visceral
level that I was utterly alone.  I knew that no matter what happened, whether
it felt good or not, I'd get my revenge.  There was no one to save and no clock
to beat, so I was in no rush.  I couldn't even find it in me to care whether I
made it to the finish line alive or not.  I simply wanted to wreak havoc and
then mourn in peace.  Time seemed to slow down as I calmly checked the magazine
of the gun and found it fully loaded.

"
Trust
me, wrath and revenge are far more formidable from that of a patient person
,"
Brooks had said.

He
was right. 

Dig two graves?  I'll dig ten
.

A
chair scraped over the floor and I heard footsteps approaching the door I was
standing beside of.  I smacked the magazine back into place and turned toward
the door as it opened.  I stepped in front of the doorway and simply took the
gun from the waistband of the man exiting.  He was still smiling until he realized
who I was and what I was doing.  I pushed his own gun against his chest and
walked him back into the room slowly. 

He
raised his hands.  "Stay cool," he said apprehensively.

I
recognized his voice as the same man who said it was
just business
.  I
flicked my eyes over his shoulder and saw two more men sitting at a table
playing cards in what appeared to be an old break room of whatever business
this building used to house.  They hadn't noticed me yet because I was standing
directly in front of the man and I was shorter than him. 

I
dispassionately looked into his eyes.  "Sorry," I said.  I tilted my
head to the side.  "It's just business," I finished in a dead voice.

I
pulled the trigger at point-blank range and he stumbled backward and collapsed
to the floor, his head smacking against the concrete floor.  I instantly raised
my other gun and aimed both of them at the other two men in the room.  Their
chairs screeched across the floor as they scrambled to their feet and stared at
their dead and/or severely injured friend with panic-struck eyes. 

"Guns
on the ground," I commanded.

They
glanced at each other and then back at their friend for two seconds before they
complied.  They laid their guns on the ground and kicked them toward me.  I
cocked the gun that hadn't been fired yet and they switched their gazes to me.

I
lowered my chin and glanced between their faces.  "Run."

They
both spun on their heels and bolted from the room.  I dismantled their guns and
stowed the guns in an empty cabinet and the magazines in my back pocket to
deter anyone from following my trail through the warehouse and acquiring
weapons to use against me.  I looked down at the man on the ground to see his
eyes were closed and his breathing shallow.  I couldn't find it in me to care
whether he survived or not.

I
trailed after the two men who fled the room and down another hallway.  I opened
a door and stood in the doorway of a room that had a television mounted on the
wall.  Gary was sitting at a table in front of it with a beer.  I knew he heard
me enter the room but he didn't even glance in my direction, assuming I was one
of his friends.

Whether
or not he was as guilty as Fletcher in all of this, I didn't care.  He
willingly attacked a house of kids and then stuck around to do some more
damage, standing by while his men killed an entire family for
no good fucking
reason.
  He might could smile and fake it, but he had no soul.

He
froze with the beer halfway to his mouth when he felt the barrel of my gun
against his temple. 

"Gary,"
I said flatly.

He
swiveled his eyes to the side to look at me.  "Lucy, don't," he
pleaded.

He
may have had no soul, but I still had a shred of mine.  "Stand up," I
said.

I
backed a few yards away but kept one of my guns on him as the other hung
loosely at my side.  He slowly stood up and faced me. 

"I
thought we were friends," he said.

"That
was before you royally fucked up and killed my family."

"I
didn't kill them," he said.

"But
you had a hand in it," I argued listlessly.

"No! 
It was all Fletcher!" he yelled, throwing his boss to the sharks. 

"You're
the muscle, Gary.  You organized the takedown," I said.

He
shook his head and started to defend himself but I wasn't listening.  I was
watching with my peripheral vision as his hand disappeared behind his back to
pull a gun to the front of his body.

"This
is going to hurt," I interrupted him indifferently.

He
rushed to shoot at me but I fired four shots into his chest before he could
even take aim.  He fell to the ground and I stared at his lifeless form for a
moment before I moved on to the next room.

I
walked down another hallway and felt like I was moving in slow motion.  There
were paintings on the walls and other decorations the closer I got to the end
of the hallway.  I heard voices echoing in a room and didn't hesitate to slowly
open the door and look inside.  I blinked a few times and my jaw fell slack as
I fell to my knees and my guns fell neglected to the floor from my limp hands.

Ethan,
Spencer and Brooks were standing with their backs to me, thirty yards away. 
Spencer had his arms crossed and Ethan's fists were clenched as he towered over
Fletcher, who was on all fours with a blood smeared face, looking up at Ethan. 
Fletcher was listing to the side and then overcorrecting, like he was very
drunk. 

This
room was the biggest part of the warehouse, at least two stories high and wide
open space that had stacks of shipping crates and wooden pallets everywhere. 
Stolen goods being sent to buyers, no doubt.  I could also see that Virgil and
another man were sprawled across the floor, bloody and not breathing.  Fletcher
tried to rise up on his knees and Ethan stepped back and kicked his face
savagely the way an athlete would punt a soccer ball.  Fletcher was knocked to
the side and blood spewed from his mouth. 

My
world tilted, severely knocking me off balance.  I couldn't find the words to
speak.  Ethan was alive?  Spencer, Brooks?  But what about August and Ollie? 
This was all that was left of our crew?  This was all who made it out alive?

"Please,"
Fletcher said weakly. 

His
words sounded distorted because of the numerous injuries to his face and body. 
His jacket was crumpled on the ground and his button up shirt was so thoroughly
drenched with blood, I had to wonder if he had been shot.  His hair was
disheveled and his eyes were wild.

At
the sound of Fletcher's pleading voice, Ethan crouched and lifted him up by his
shirt front to his knees.  He steadied him and demanded, "Please,
what?"