A Jar of Hearts (3 page)

James strode up to the house that served as a local base for The Pachecos.

“Hey, Jamie,” one man greeted him on the way.

“Hey, Roberto,” he replied, giving him a slight nod. He glanced at his bright white sling shirt over his colorful knee length shorts. His white socks were pulled up his leg and almost up to his knees. It was the traditional dress code for most Hispanic gang members. The one thing he had learned in his stay with The Pachecos was that they always stayed fresh, clean and with an admirable sense of loyalty to both their gang and their families. He had once amusingly observed one rugged member, respectably feared by his peers, being cuffed the upside of his head by his very small and petite mother for forgetting to bring back home a crate of eggs. Until he had become a part of The Pachecos, he had always believed them to be merciless humans with no empathy or emotions for anyone other than themselves. They were still cruel bastards, but he couldn’t help credit them for their loyalty to their families.

He stepped into the house and was immediately greeted with chatter and the whirring sound of a tattoo machine.

“Juan,” James said as he approached the man sitting on a chair receiving yet another tattoo in his inked covered body.

“Jamie,” Juan Carlos grimaced.

James grabbed a chair and watched the man who led the The Pachecos skewing his face in pain as the tattooist deftly moved his needle along the drafted design on his skin.

“Why don’t you get one?” Juan said, lifting an eyebrow at him. “You got too clean a skin, man. You need some ink.”

“I don’t like being branded.”

“You don’t like being a Pacheco?”  There was a clear hint of suspicion in his voice.

James leaned back into his chair, trying to act as mellow as he could. “I would like to think you can measure my loyalty other than by a bit of ink on my body.”

Juan smirked. “Unlike Little Dimey. He had our brand all over him and yet he ratted us out.”

James shrugged. “Perhaps. My position in the gang is to remain silent and hidden. Any markings would only make me conspicuous. It would make it difficult for me to blend in with the public if anything happened.” He licked his lips. “Besides, I’m not too fond of needles.”

Juan laughed. “You’re scared of needles?!”

James smiled and shook his head. “I had a nagging feeling not to tell you that.” Inside, he was only too glad to diffuse the tension between them. The Pachecos didn’t take betrayal very well. “So what is this new assignment you’ve called me for?”

Juan waved the tattooist away, wincing from the pain in his arm. He stood up from his chair to look over the tattoo in the mirror. “It’s meant to be a Pacheco wearing a sombrero.”

“It’s getting there,” James said, his eyes resting on Juan’s reddened arm.

“Ahh, the pleasure in pain… and the beauty.” He turned back to James with a grin. “We have a training coming up in two days. And we’ve got a former Navy Seal to teach the boys how to properly use these guns. It’s going to be awesome.”

A former Seal? Teaching gangsters how to properly use a gun would be a game changer on the streets. There would be an all out war between the law and the outlaws.

“That is certainly something we needed,” he said aloud, trying not to sound sarcastic. “Who is this guy?”

Juan slapped his shoulder gently. “Brett Johnson. He was a naval special warfare operator. We will be in good hands.”

A nerve beat rapidly in his temples. This was going to be terrible. The chaos unleashed on the streets by a gang who were knowledgeable in the art of using warfare would be unfathomable. Even without that training it was crazy.

“Where is the training?” he asked as casually as he could.

“On a ranch in Mexico. We’d have to cross over to the other side.” Juan slumped into a couch excitedly. “We’ll have fun,
esé
!”

Eric took the elevator up to the twenty-fifth floor; a route he had taken often in the last two years. He pulled out his key and stepped out into the hallway, heading straight towards his empty office space. He opened the door casually, the scent of raw timber and wood shavings immediately hitting him. Carpentry tools were strewn on a table and air duct pipes lay about the floor. While it was a sore sight, there was little he could do about it. This was how it was meant to be.

He pressed onto a hidden button, opening up a secret panel in the wall. He strolled leisurely into the disguised espionage base. Its occupants sat quietly at their desks monitoring their computer screens, working busily at their assigned tasks.

“Casey,” he greeted one of the women.

She nodded her head and pointed in the direction of another room as she continued to speak into her headset. He ambled on to the room and then knocked softly on the door.

“Yeah, Eric,” Mark said from the inside.

He strolled into the room and dragged a chair. “We have a problem.”

“And what is that now?”

“Juan has upped the level of armed combat by The Pachecos.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, looking up at the man who cornered him into this job. Tomorrow, he would die and nobody would know. Nobody would mourn his loss. Why would they? He was already dead, wasn’t he? And standing before him was the man who was the reason behind it all. “You might want to sit down for this one.”

James sat on the steps leading up to his back veranda and tied up his shoe laces. The waves were high and crashing loudly against the beach. A light breeze blew over him. He gazed out at the sun and gauged there was still a few hours before it would set in the horizon.

He rubbed his temples. Mark wanted him to go on with the gang and attend the training in Mexico. Why? Why wouldn’t he stop it? Was the mission so important that they would have to compromise the lives of civilians to a bunch of trigger-happy gangbangers?

He palmed his face and stood up. It wasn’t his business anymore. Mark could be accountable for all those lives. He did what he had to do. He couldn’t do more than to follow orders.

He jogged out of his backyard and down to the beach. He needed his run. It was the one thing that had kept him alive so far.

He focused on each step, his breath pulling in and releasing at a steady pace. The ocean breeze kept his sweaty body cool. Jogging along the beach had become one of his favorite things to do whenever he got home. He found he could leave his troubles behind him in his run, drowning them tentatively in the sounds of the sea. Even if his peace was only temporary, it gave him the will to push on with his mission.

He smiled at two women standing on the side, watching him attentively with obvious admiration. He was well aware of the female attention he received whenever he jogged down the sands, but he still had to find the courage to talk to any of them. Perhaps, it was time he should, he contemplated. Perhaps, a little flirtation would abate the constant memory of Anne. After all, Anne had moved on. She was with Nicholas now. She probably must be married too.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing again. He had to stop thinking about her or he’d spark that ache in his heart again.

He opened his eyes, his gaze immediately resting on the beautiful blonde woman looking out into the sea. Her golden locks fluttered in the wind, raising them slightly off her shoulders to reveal more of her profile.

He stopped abruptly, his heart pounding against his chest walls.
Anne?
This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be her. He had left her behind in Boston. She was just someone who looked like her.

He swallowed, moving closer to her. She didn’t move, continuing to look frozenly onto the ocean. And when he stood just a breath away from her, his heart almost cramped from the pain inside him.
Anne…

And for the third time in his life, he stared at her like a man worshipping his goddess. His eyes traced down her face, resting on her lips. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He found his fingers reaching out for her hands and instantly stopped himself short from touching her.

“Anne?” someone called out from behind them.

He turned quickly towards the ocean, pretending to stand harmlessly beside her. Anne spun around on the balls of her feet to head towards the woman calling out for her, colliding into him squarely on his chest.  She stumbled back with a cry and he grabbed onto her immediately, his arms moving around her waist and pulling her into him. He held her steady against him, unwilling to let her go so quickly. He wanted to run his fingers through her soft hair and crush his lips against hers. Surprisingly, she didn’t move either. She tilted her head up to him, her eyes narrowed with deep thought.

“Anne, are you okay?” the woman interrupted them, breaking his moment with her.

He reluctantly let her go, stepping away from her slightly.

“I am fine, Julia,” Anne said.

The other woman looked at him a little longer than he felt comfortable and he turned to walk away.

“Thank you,” she said quickly before he could leave. “Anne... Anne has poor eyesight. She didn’t mean to bump into you like that.”

“I don’t just have poor eyesight, Julia.” Anne rolled her eyes. “I am blind. I can’t see anything at all.”

You see something. You see light
, he thought silently as recalled her words from two years ago.

“Can you not see anything at all?” he had asked with a frown.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s not like I am staring into a black wall. I can identify between light and dark. But the rest are blurry. If I focus hard enough I might be able to make out something. However it does leave me with terrible migraines and so most often I don’t try at all.”

“Thank you for catching me,” Anne said, extending her hand. “I’m Anne Mullen and this is my friend, Julia Medina.”

James took it hesitantly and shook it. “Hi,” he let out with a short gruff and then walked away as quickly as he could, afraid she would recognize him just by the sound of his voice.

Eric
. Anne gulped nervously, her body shivering from the sound of his voice. How could he sound just like him? His hands, his body… they were all him.

“What a jerk.” Julia scowled.

Anne staggered towards the house. How was it possible for a man to feel and sound just like another? What were the odds?

“Anne, are you okay?” Julia asked, chasing after her. “You look so pale.”

“I need some rest, that’s all,” she muttered as she entered her living room. She stopped and made a grab for Julia’s arms. “Tell me how he looked like. Describe him to me.”

“What?” the woman said, taken aback by the order slightly “Well, he is tall with short dark hair. He is extremely handsome, no doubt about that, and athletic in his built.”

Anne slumped dishearteningly into a chair. “That could be just about any man.”

Julia sat down beside her worriedly. “What is this about, Anne?”

“I felt… I felt he was my Eric,” she trembled with a sob.

“Anne…”

“His voice… the similarity… how can it be?”

“Anne, he barely said a word.”

She covered her face with her palm, sobbing and shaking her head. “I don’t even have a picture of him. I didn’t know I would ever need one. How could I be so stupid?”

Julia knelt beside her and rubbed her arms comfortingly. “Anne, Eric is gone. He is dead. You buried him. And his family was there with you at the funeral.”

“Then why?”

“It is possible for two people to sound alike… even feel alike. It was just an unfortunate coincidence.”

Anne sniveled, wiping her tears from her eyes. Julia was right. Even if her heart felt like Eric was still alive, his adopted family had been there during the funeral. She remembered how Leticia had wrapped her in her motherly arms and sobbed with her. She had wept like any real mother would have wept if they had lost their son.

Anne clenched and unclenched her fingers. She was being paranoid. Wasn’t it time she woke up to the truth and realized it too that Eric was dead?

But that man from the beach relentlessly niggled at the back of her mind. Who was
he
then?

James shut the door behind him, leaning against it with deep, panting breaths. What was she doing here? How was it possible…?  Did Mark know she was here? Should he tell him?
If she stayed, who would protect her from me?

He ran his fingers through his hair. He would just have to stay away from her. Was she married? He shook his head. It was none of his business.
What if I found out she wasn’t
?

He marched over to the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold orange juice.  The fact that she probably wasn’t was too tempting for him to seek her out. If he knew better, he wouldn’t even go there. He was given a lease to a new life. And he was going to grab it with both hands.

The doorbell rang, breaking his attention from Anne. If he knew better he would stay away from her.  Anyone could find out about her.

He strode up to the video camera and let out a small moan before opening the door. “What are you doing here?”

The beautiful woman lifted her dark head and pushed him aside. “Is that how you greet all your girlfriends?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Avanna.”

She snorted. “Right. You just fuck me when it suits you.” She ambled up to him seductively and puts her hands into his pants, feeling for his cock. She wrapped her fingers around his soft cock, squeezing it gently. “Does it suit you now, Jamie?”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand back out. “Stop it, Avanna.”

“I guess not,” she answered herself. She shrugged and strolled up to his wine rack.  “You should rethink my position as your girlfriend, Jamie. Everyone knows that I am. You’re the only one who refuses to admit what’s between us.”

“If you’re here for a fuck, you should start seeing yourself out,” he said, starting to make his way up the stairs. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, I am, goddamnit!” she screamed, throwing a wine glass against the floor and shattering it.

He raised his brow. “What’s going on, Avanna?”

“What’s going on?” she repeated mockingly, throwing up her hands. “You tell me! You know I like you, right Jamie? Then why won’t you touch me? It’s been three months since you last fucked me, if you can call a two minute bang against the fucking wall that! But you had better mark my words. No woman can touch you- not while I’m around. So it’s time you deal with that fact and make it official. I’m your bitch and that’s how it’s gonna stay!”