The Rules for Breaking (20 page)

“I don’t know.”

He needs help, but the last thing he said to me was not to call the cops. And it will take Will at least four hours to get here.

What do I do…what do I do…

I check Ethan’s arm. There’s so much blood, I can’t tell if the bullet came out of the other side or not.

People walking by are looking at us funny and it won’t be long until someone calls the cops for us.

“Teeny, see if you can flag down a cab.”

Maybe if I can get him to our room, I can wash his arm and see how bad it is.

She’s at the curb, scanning the street, and then runs back to me. “Sissy, I don’t see one. And I’m scared Mateo is going to come back. I don’t like sitting here.”

Mateo’s words run through my brain—
There’s nowhere to hide. No matter where you go, I will find you
.

I’m not prepared to outmaneuver Mateo, especially with Ethan injured. I can’t even get us two blocks from where we were attacked. He may wake up any minute and he’s going to be even more pissed off. If I call an ambulance and take Ethan to a hospital, what will stop Mateo from coming there?

I feel sick. I want to call Dad, but his cell doesn’t work on that island and I don’t know how to call that satellite phone.

I should have killed Mateo, because he won’t hesitate to kill me.

Tyler’s face with his fresh stitches pops into my head. Thomas stitched him up. And Thomas may be the only match for Mateo. Maybe he can fix Ethan’s arm, too.

My mind spins as I consider our dwindling options…take my chances against an unknown assassin or trust the assassin I know?

“Wait here, Teeny. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” she yells at me as I’m almost across the street.

“I’ve got to make a call.”

Tyler screeches to a stop on the street right in front of where Ethan is passed out in the doorway. It took him less than four minutes to get here, so that means they’re still in the Quarter somewhere.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Teeny says for the fifteenth time. “He needs a doctor.”

“Teeny, Mateo shot him right off a busy street. Do you really think he won’t come for him in a hospital? At this point I’m just trying to keep us alive for the next couple of hours. I can’t think past that right now.”

Tyler goes straight for Ethan and manages to get him over his shoulder with little effort. This is the second time he’s carried him in an unconscious state and chills race down my spine that I have made the worst decision ever. I didn’t know who else to call, and then I remembered he told me at Ursuline that he kept his same number.

I follow Tyler to the car and help get Ethan in the backseat, while Teeny gets in on the other side next to him.

“I have to ask you to put your heads down before we can go.” Tyler’s face is black and blue but I don’t feel sorry for him at all.

We both duck down and then we’re racing through the Quarter and headed right back in the lion’s den.

As Thomas helps Tyler get Ethan out of the car, I wait for the anger or frustration or something similar from Thomas. Surprisingly it doesn’t come. I’ve decided Thomas is a sociopath without emotion.

We follow them through an iron gate, and it’s not what I expect. It’s like an oasis plopped down in the middle of this building and hidden away from the noise-filled streets of New Orleans. There’s a small pool and several brick pathways that weave around overflowing flower beds and overfilled pots leading to secluded seating areas. The inside walls are peppered with old French doors and gaslights and the hanging baskets attached to the second-story balcony drip with trailing plants. I have no idea if we’re still in the French Quarter but wherever we are, it’s beautiful.

They take Ethan up an outside set of stairs through one of the sets of French doors. It’s a huge bedroom, probably twice the size of our hotel room, and has really expensive-looking antique furniture. They set Ethan down in the center of a queen-size bed.

Thomas stands over him but doesn’t move to help him in any way. “What happened?”

I gently crawl on the bed and get as close to Ethan as I can. “Mateo found us. We ran from him but he cornered us in an alley. He shot Ethan, then kicked him in the head. Teeny and I got Ethan a few blocks away from the alley but then he threw up and passed out.”

Thomas crosses his arms in front of him and continues to study Ethan.

“How did you get away from him?” He’s showing more expression on his face than I’ve seen this entire time.

“I hit him in the head with a beer bottle and knocked him out.”

A ridiculous grin spreads across his face.

“Tyler said you would help us,” I say, feeling stupid the second the words are out of my mouth. Why did I think this was the answer? Why would I assume the person who once kept us bound and gagged would help save Ethan’s life? I must be completely losing my mind.

He looks straight at me. “You want this over, you do what I say.”

My only concern is keeping Ethan alive at this point and if I have to make a deal with the devil for that to happen, I will.

“Just me, not Ethan or Teeny. Just me,” I say, holding his gaze.

Teeny gasps behind me but I don’t turn to look at her.

“I’m not sure you’re in a position to make demands.” He’s back to being cold.

“No, but I know it will be a lot easier for whatever you have planned if I cooperate. And if you help Ethan, I’ll cooperate.”

Thomas rolls up his sleeves and immediately starts unwrapping my jacket from around Ethan’s arm.

“Ty, get my kit.”

Ty. It’s strange hearing him referred to by a nickname, especially from Thomas. Tyler sprints from the room. I hover over Ethan trying to get a better look at his arm.

“Move back; you’re blocking the light.”

I scoot back so quickly I almost fall off the bed.

Ethan’s shirt is soaked with blood and Thomas tears it away to the shoulder. Tyler runs back in the room carrying a large black duffel bag.

“Hot water. And some towels.”

And Tyler is gone again.

“How do you know what to do?” I ask.

He glances up at me, his face blank, then goes back to pulling out supplies from the bag. And all I can think is, how did he manage to come off so personable in Natchitoches? It’s almost impossible to consider him being the least bit charming.

Once Tyler’s back with the hot water, Thomas starts cleaning the blood away from the wound and Ethan comes alive. He sits up in the bed, a string of curses bouncing off the walls.

“Hold him down!” Thomas yells.

I grab his good side, throwing all my weight on him to get him back on the mattress while Tyler catches both legs. Thomas lays one arm across his chest while he digs in his bag with the other.

Ethan is looking at me with wild eyes, especially after seeing Thomas and Tyler. Not only is pain etched across his face, but confusion as well.

Ethan repeats, “What did you do?” over and over and I feel horrible.

Thomas pulls out a syringe and a small glass bottle. Once the syringe is full, he jabs it in Ethan’s arm, right near the gunshot wound.

Ethan fights for another few seconds then his eyes roll back in his head and he falls against the mattress.

“Now, let’s see just where this bullet went.” And Thomas goes to work.

Rules for disappearing
by Witness Protection prisoner #18A7R04M:

There’s a time to cut and run….

New rule by Anna Boyd:

And there’s a time to stay and fight….

dark out. Thomas and Tyler left the room hours ago. I don’t think they locked the door behind them, but I haven’t checked—they know I won’t leave without Ethan.

Teeny’s at the foot of the gigantic bed, asleep. And Ethan is still unconscious.

His last words to me repeat on an infinite loop in my head:
What did you do…what did you do…

Thomas pulled the bullet out of the meaty part of Ethan’s arm and stitched him back up. He said Ethan would be asleep for a while, but I think it’s been too long. All I ever heard about concussions was to keep the person awake. But I don’t think Thomas could have gotten the bullet out with Ethan conscious.

I hid the gun we took from Mateo the second Thomas left the room. It’s a handgun, but I don’t know what kind, and it has some sort of tube screwed to the end of it. A silencer, maybe? I guess that’s why no one came running when he fired those two shots.

By now Will has gotten to town and he’s waiting in some unknown club for Ethan to show.

This is so screwed up.

The door creaks open and Tyler’s head pops in. “You have to be hungry. Come down and eat something.”

I’m hesitant to leave Ethan and Teeny, but my stomach makes the most god-awful noise once he mentions food and I remember I haven’t eaten today.

“Can I bring something up for them for when they wake up?”

He nods, and just like that, he’s the friendly host.

I follow Tyler down a hall toward a set of steps. There are lots of doors, all shut, but once we get downstairs the whole room opens up. There is a living area with several different groupings of furniture, a long table and chairs, and then the kitchen. It’s warm-feeling, which is not what I expected. I scan the room but don’t see Thomas anywhere.

“Who’s place is this?” I ask.

Tyler shakes his head and answers, “Please don’t ask me too much.” He’s different and I wonder what brought on the change—Ethan beating the crap out of him or something else.

He gestures for me to sit at the bar while he moves around the kitchen. He pulls out long, slender white packages and small bags of chips from a white grocery bag.

“I got some roast beef po’boys. I think you’ll like them.”

I’m so hungry I could eat dirt, so I rip the package open the second he hands it to me and shove a huge amount of the sandwich in my mouth.

He brings over a small Styrofoam container and says, “It’s better if you dip it in the gravy first.”

I nod and try to choke down the food. It is a little dry and it’s hard to force it down my throat.

“Can I have some water?”

Tyler brings two bottles and sits beside me.

We eat in silence and it’s awkward. There are a million things I want to ask him but I don’t know where I stand with him right now.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he finally says. “If I had it to do over again in Florida, I would do things a lot differently.”

I finish chewing and think about what to say to him. This is not what I expected. At all. I need to feel him out, see what’s ticking in that brain of his.

“I thought after what Ethan did to you, you might not help him.”

His left eye twitches before he says, “I would try to kill someone, too, if I thought they hurt you. He just doesn’t understand what’s going on here. I’m trying to save you. That’s all I ever wanted to do. I would have never given you the journal back if I’d have known all this was going to happen. I swear. And I’m glad you trusted me enough to call when you needed help. Better late than never. No matter what I will always be here for you.”

He’s sick. Seriously sick in the head. Does he honestly think there’s hope for us?

He reaches over and squeezes my hand. I hate him. The desire to hit him, like Ethan did, is so strong, but another idea pops in my head—what if I use this moment to my advantage? If I can make him believe I’ve forgiven him and there is the slightest chance for us, then maybe I can get us out of this mess alive. I just hope I can act nice without showing how I really feel about him.

I turn toward him, letting my knees bump his. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, I say, “This is all so hard to take in, but thank you for making sure Thomas didn’t kill me or my family.”

He blushes and plays with his food. “I wanted to tell you so many times who I really was.” He looks around the room, making sure we’re alone. Even though we’re the only ones in here, he leans in close and whispers, “I’m so sorry about your mom. I really liked her. Is she getting better?”

Tears threaten to roll down my face. I do not want to talk about my mother with him.

“She is. I’m hoping she can come home soon. I’m hoping I can, too.”

Tyler scans the room again. “It won’t be long, I promise. Thomas plans on making his move soon. If it all goes as planned, you could be headed home in a couple of days.”

“Do you really think he’ll let us leave? You’ve been unmasked. And now we’ve seen this place.” I gesture to the house around me. “How did you explain we got away?”

“Yes, I think you’ll be going home soon,” he answers with such conviction that I’m sure he believes it. “And I told him everything.” The last part comes out in a whisper.

“Was he mad at you?”

“He wasn’t happy.”

“Will you please answer a few questions, just between you and me?” I move in a little bit closer, maintaining eye contact with him. “This whole thing is making me crazy and I just don’t know how you could be a part of it. Please help me understand.”

His eyes lock on my mouth just like Ethan’s do right before he comes in for a kiss. It takes everything in me not to back away. I’ve reeled him in; now I just need to keep him on the hook.

“What do you want to know?”

“If you’re Daniel Sanders, who did Agent Williams have in custody?”

I’m starting out with something easy and nonthreatening, hoping to ease him into opening up.

He cracks a small smile and says, “Thomas had someone at my apartment pretending to be me.”

And now I’m going to try to go a little deeper with him. “You and Thomas seem so close but so different, obviously. I don’t understand that.”

“Very different. We had the same mom but different dads. He had a…hard upbringing, living with his dad. I didn’t meet him until I was ten. Mom died and I was just about to be put in the foster system when he showed up. I couldn’t stay with him…since he, um, travels a lot, but he enrolled me in a really nice boarding school. Came to visit all the time. He was there for all the parent stuff. I don’t know what would have happened to me if it wasn’t for him.”

Was not expecting that. It sounds more like the Thomas I knew in Natchitoches than what I see today.

“But how can you be okay with what he does? Why would you help him?”

Tyler looks uncomfortable now, and I’m regretting coming on too strong.

“I didn’t know what he was until after you left Florida. Walked in…in on the middle of something….” He gets up from the stool and takes our empty plates to the sink, rinses them, and loads them into the dishwasher. “You gotta understand, he was raised very different from me. He grew up in that environment. My mom got away, but she wasn’t able to save him. He’s all she used to talk about, and she constantly worried over what kind of person he would turn into…and what he saw…. He can’t help what he is.”

He doesn’t continue and I don’t push because I feel like he’s seconds from closing off and there’s still more I want to learn.

“What does Thomas do exactly? Is he just an assassin? Or does he do other…things?”

Tyler turns his back to me and I scoot off the stool, joining him in the kitchen. I turn him around and step in close. I don’t feel bad playing him like this. At all. He’s under some crazy delusions if he can make excuses for his brother murdering people for a living and for his part in this.

I put my hands in his and say, “Please help me understand.”

I can see him cave before his mouth even opens. “He works for the Vega family. Always has. When he was younger, he did odd jobs and he worked his way up. Usually, the only people he…takes care of…are just as bad as the people he works for. His dad had the same job before he died.”

“You realize he’s sucking you into this same life. He convinced you to befriend a girl he was paid to kill, and you agreed to do it.”

“No! It wasn’t like that. I thought at first he just needed some information from you. When I found out about the contract, I made him swear, on our mother’s grave, that he wouldn’t harm you or your family. He gave me his word. We’re the only family we’ve got. He wouldn’t lie to me.”

I drop his hands and turn away, too disgusted to keep up the pretense any longer. Grabbing the sack with the rest of the po’boys and a few bottles of water, I start to leave the kitchen but I can’t help one last parting remark. “Tyler, just because we’re still alive doesn’t mean he didn’t harm my family.”