Authors: Unknown
“I think it’s good now,” I said, jerking my leg back in response. I couldn’t let this turn into something more.
“Let me get a Band-Aid on it. I don’t want it to get infected.” He squirted the antibiotic cream on the bandage and gently placed it over the cut. I hadn’t seen the sensitive wound, but it felt like an extremely large gash. As if to read my thoughts, Billy spoke up. “I don’t think you’ll need stiches, but we’ll check it in the morning.”
Billy then noticed the bruise on my face and his forehead creased. “Here, let me put some medicine on your face, too. You have a small cut where you’re bruised. Don’t want it to get infected either.” He applied an antibiotic cream to the area, rubbing it in gently.
“Thank you.” I put my arms around my waist, comforting myself.
Billy put everything away and washed his hands while I stayed perched on the counter. As soon as I jumped down, pain spread through the ball of my foot and I yelped in response.
“I got ‘cha, angel. Hang on.” He once again lifted me effortlessly and carried me across the hall, setting me this time on the bed. “Get some rest.”
Before he reached the door, I thanked him again. “I didn’t mean to wake you and I’m sorry if I broke anything. I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to show my appreciation.” My fingers laced together and fidgeted nervously in my lap.
“Nothing to be sorry for, angel. Try to sleep.” With that he walked away, closing the door softly behind him.
I laid back, situating myself under the covers. I must say, the bed was very comfortable, much more so than my old mattress. I was just beginning to doze off when I heard a soft tap on the door before it creaked open.
“Here. Take these,” he ordered. “It’ll make you feel better.” Billy entered, bringing me a glass of water and two ibuprofen. “Anti-inflammatory. It’ll help with the pain.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to take them. I did as he bid, swallowing them down with the tepid water. I handed Billy the glass and he set it on the nightstand before cautiously tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
“You didn’t break anything. I did. I guess I didn’t clean it up good. I’m sorry you got hurt.” He looked remorseful, though he hardly needed to be.
“It’s okay, Billy,” I promised him. “It’s just a little cut. I’ll be fine. Thank you for the medicine and for cleaning me up.” I laid my hand across his arm in a comforting manner.
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you in the morning.” He went to stand, but hesitated. “You’re safe here, Heather. You know that, right?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. Raul hadn’t entered my mind for several hours. Being around Billy made it easy to forget what was happening and the real reason for me being here. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good. I won’t let him get to you.” Billy gave a slight smile and once again exited the room.
I sagged against the pillow, letting out a deep breath.
Sleep
. I just needed to sleep. And I had to stop reading so much into Billy’s words.
He’s just being a friend
, I silently repeated over and over until I finally drifted off.
12
Billy
Knowing Heather was just down the hall,
naked nonetheless
, was killing me. I couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand and had already burnt one batch of noodles. It was just simple spaghetti for shit’s sake! Not rocket science! I took the smoldering pot and set it on the back porch, leaving it for the morning. Luckily there was another box of noodles and dinner wasn’t a total loss. I knew she must be hungry, and though it wasn’t a five star meal, she’d appreciate it.
After twenty minutes or so, after the noodles were done and the sauce had simmered, I made my way down the hall to check on Heather. I heard the bathroom door open and in an effort not to startle her, I called out.
Please don’t let her come out wrapped in only a towel
, I thought to myself.
“Be right there,” she responded. I waited until she was fully out the door and she followed me back down the hallway. I’m sure she could’ve found the kitchen on her own, but I was being polite. Very uncharacteristic of me.
“I made spaghetti. I hope that’s okay.” I didn’t bother to tell her I’d made enough noodles to feed an army, counting the ones that were burnt and sitting outside of course.
Heather practically salivated and my heart wrenched, knowing she hadn’t been eating regularly. I’d already had a hard time coming to grips that she went without heat, air-conditioning, and apparently water. She thought I didn’t pick up on it, but I did.
The silence was killing me! I tried engaging in conversation, or small talk rather. We never had a shortage of things to talk about.
Ever
. We’d been intimate more times than I could count, and I knew her body better than she did. I knew her family, her friends;
our friends
. I knew her beliefs and her quirks. I knew every freckle and what made her tick, and yet we had nothing to say to one another. It was all just too much that we had grown so far apart.
I abruptly stood, dropping my plate into the sink before stomping away like a petulant child. I knew she was confused about my outburst, but I couldn’t explain it to her. Not without giving myself away, and that definitely wasn’t going to happen. Not now and not ever.
Rule number five: Never let your feelings show.
I was doing a piss poor job of keeping them in check. I needed to go out. To get a drink and forget she was here. In my house.
I went to my room and showered, letting the hot water scald me until it ran cold. Grabbing clothes from my closet, I hurriedly dressed. I sat on the end of the bed to put my shoes on when suddenly it hit me. I couldn’t go out. I couldn’t leave her here all alone. For one it wouldn’t be right, and two, if something happened to her I’d never forgive myself. I huffed in defeat before hurling my boots across the room. I stripped off, putting on my sleep shorts and laid back on the bed. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what in the hell I was gonna do.
I was just starting to relax when I heard Heather scream. I jumped up immediately, making a beeline for the door. I saw her hopping around on one foot and then the blood stamped across the floor, obviously coming from a rather large cut.
The glass
.
Shit!
I had forgotten all about my fit of rage. The Vodka bottle I’d smashed against the wall when I was acting so stupid. Lauren must have missed some of the pieces and I’d forgotten all about it. This was all my fault.
Heather continued whispering how sorry she was and I felt like an even bigger dirt bag than before. It was obvious that she’d been cleaning; that she was doing this to feel better about staying here. I knew she didn’t like pity and she sure as hell didn’t like handouts. She was earning her keep, or so she thought. I hung my head so disgusted with everything, but mostly myself.
She tried hobbling around me, but I could plainly see that she was hurting. Without overthinking it, I lifted her and carried her into the bathroom. Taking care of her injury was the least I could do. I sat her on the countertop while I searched the underneath cabinet for the first-aid kit. I rummaged through, removing the supplies I needed to clean her up.
Sure enough, there it was; a piece of the broken bottle wedged in the bottom of her foot. I was being as careful as I could, but touching her wasn’t helping my mounting predicament. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her. I wanted to run my hands up and down her toned legs.
Stay focused
!
I couldn’t and wouldn’t cross that line.
I noticed the cut on her face that Raul had caused when he’d so savagely hit her and I tensed. I pushed down my anger and applied medicine to that as well. Once I had her all fixed up, I washed my hands, trying to buy a few more minutes. When she whimpered in pain, I lifted her once again and took her across the hall to her new home, at least for the foreseeable future.
She looked so tired and worn and I knew she needed to sleep. I should have told her it was my fault that she got hurt, that I’d been the one to shatter the bottle when I heard she was in trouble, but I couldn’t make myself say the words. I’d already hurt her so much and I didn’t think she could handle any more.
I closed the bedroom door behind me, sagging against the wall once I was out of earshot. I took several deep breaths, needing alcohol now more than ever. As I opened the kitchen cabinet to reach for my choice of poison, a bottle of ibuprofen caught my eye. I shook a couple out, dumping them into my palm. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water before walking back to Heather’s room. She needed medicine more than I needed a drink, and I sure didn’t want her to smell liquor on my breath.
I knocked lightly before opening the door. I sat on the edge of the bed, handing her the medicine and water, hoping it would make her feel better. Before I thought too much about what I was doing, I tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, basking in the feel of her soft skin as my hand brushed her cheek. I had to make sure she felt safe here. I wanted her to. I’d die before I let anyone harm one hair on her head. If she couldn’t feel safe with me, then there was no hope.
I exited her room, retreating to the safety of mine. Punching the pillows into submission, I got as comfortable as I could before drifting off into a fitful sleep.
I watched the street from my rundown motel room. It was disgusting. As long as I’ve been here, fifty-seven days to be exact, I’ve never slept in the bed. It’s repulsive. It smells. The whole dump smells. But I’m on assignment and I’m nothing more than a street thug. Nothing more than a common criminal trying to take down Victor and Raul Suarez and their rat infested drug ring.
The walls of my room are stained with mold. The tile in the bathroom is falling off the walls and the tub is covered in cigarette burns. Green shag carpet that’s mildewed makes my stomach turn, and I never walk on it barefooted. Never. God, I can’t wait to get home to Heather. My angel. She’s the greatest thing in my life and though it’s excruciating being apart, she’s one of the reasons I go through the hell I do. For her and for every other upstanding citizen that deserves a better life; to be rid of the scum.
Blake, my partner and known these days as Julian, is supposed to be doing a drop. My job is to lure Raul and Victor to the meet so the other agents can surprise attack, finally taking the lowlifes out once and for all. But something seems amiss. Blake is thirty minutes late in contacting me. Not like him at all. I’ve known the guy for seven years and we’ve been partners for three. He’s always on time. Nervousness settles in the pit of my stomach and my gut says this plan isn’t going off without a hitch.
I drop the yellowed curtain, letting it cover the window once again. My lights are off so I don’t worry about being seen, but I instinctively step away from the glass. Too easy a target. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I glance at the number before answering. It’s Tom. My boss and director of the ATF.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“They’ve got Blake. He’s at the warehouse. I don’t know what happened, but he sounds pretty bad off. He was able to radio in, but we have no idea what happened. Stand by.”
I flipped my phone shut, almost crushing it in my palm. These thugs; these evil men had no regard for human life and showed no remorse for their actions. Put that together and you’ve got acts of terrorism. I paced the floor and thought over ideas. Different scenarios about how this could go down. Stand by? Wait for orders? I couldn’t do that. Not with Blake’s life in danger.
Just as I was getting my coat, someone knocked on the door. Peering through the peephole, I saw Raul with Sergio, Raul’s number one man. Shit! This was not good. Getting my game face on, I opened the door.
“What’s up? Just heading out to the bar.” The bar was Tommy’s and more specifically where we did a lot of drug dealings. I always went hesitantly, feeling more awful about myself and my life each time. It wasn’t just a bar, it was a strip club. A strip club where I had to act interested in the bimbos to keep up appearances. I never cheated on my angel. Never. But I did talk the talk even though I never walked the walk. I never crossed that line.
“Need you to come with me,” said Raul, looking down at his well-manicured nails. His thousand dollar suit was tailored to fit him perfectly. Every hair was in place, everything immaculate. It disgusted me how he let his men, those who did his dirty work, live in filth and dress like the homeless while he dressed to the nines and lived in his gated estate with guards to keep his ass safe. He was repulsive. He was mean. He was the devil himself.
“Where we going?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, but one look from Sergio and I knew not to argue. I stepped out into the night, shutting and locking the door behind me. I fell in line behind Raul, his goon following close on my heels. I was led to a black suburban with dark, tinted windows; Raul’s vehicle of choice. His driver was waiting, holding the door open for us to climb in. I was wedged between the two men, feeling uncomfortable as we drove into the night.
I knew where the warehouse was. It was an old abandoned factory with concrete block walls, barbed-wire fencing and busted out windows. Completely opposite of Raul’s castle on the hill. We exited the vehicle with only a nod from the driver. Same as before, I followed Raul, keeping my hands in my pockets and my head down. My eyes were searching to the right and the left, waiting to be ambushed. Surely Tom and the others were watching.
We reached a big metal door where we were greeted by another bodyguard. Deuce is what they called him, but surely that wasn’t his real name. He was as tall as me, at least six foot four, with dark shades covering his eyes. His muscular frame spanned the entire width of the oversized door. Stepping aside, he let us pass. We walked to the farthest corner, where I saw Blake tied to a chair with blood dripping from his scalp. Shit! Shit! Shit!
I surveyed the area, taking mental notes of the exits, of which there weren’t many. Steel drums, stacked one on top of the other lined the walls, along with boxes of “product” just delivered in. It was cold and damp and I shivered with dread and fear. Where the hell was Tom?
“Glad you could join us,” I heard a voice call out. It was Victor, stepping from the shadows of the rat-hole. “I see you’ve noticed our little Julian here. Don’t worry, he’s still alive. For now.” Victor shuffled his fat ass across the floor, setting himself behind an elaborate desk that didn’t fit with the rest of the building. Sitting back in the overpriced leather chair, he laced his fingers together and placed his hands on top of the desk. I had a flashback of being in the principal’s office, but it hit me quickly that no one was leaving here with only a slap on the wrist.
Raul interjected. “Seems our Julian here is a rat!” Spit flew from his mouth as he enunciated his words.
“Now son, calm down,” Victor said. “No need to get upset. We’re all gentleman and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“How do you know he’s a rat?” I asked, nervously. If they felt strongly enough to peg Blake, chances were I was on their radar, too, but I had no clue how our covers had been blown.
“Tiffany,” Victor answered. “The little whore over at Tommy’s. She came to me, told me what she knew in exchange for some help.”
I knew Tiffany well. I knew that she could be just as bad as these guys when she needed to be. I knew she was a liar and a fake, only out for herself. She was also the one in charge of the girls that worked for Tommy, making sure they stayed in line and kept the men happy.
“Help as in drugs or money?”
Victor said nothing, just shrugged his shoulders and avoided my question.
“So you’re going to give a piece of trash like that the benefit of the doubt over someone who’s been nothing but loyal to you?” I exclaimed in shock.
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked, calmly.
“Maybe because she’s using you? Because she’s a coke addict who would use her own mother if it meant getting her next fix!” I argued, truly dumbfounded. “She got what she wanted out of the deal!”