BUFF (6 page)

“Would you like a bell to ring me instead?"

He snorts and shakes his head. “Whatever.” He wipes his hand over his face.

“Okay then. Well, get some rest."

“You say that a lot."

“What?” She can’t stop the self-consciousness from creeping in her pose. He continues watching her and her delicate composure starts to crumble. She clenches her insides, his dark inspection casting cold shivers through her.

“Nothing,” he replies. She catches the twinkle in his eyes before he looks away as though he’s just won a game.

Quickly she turns, mad again. “’Night,” she clips out, and slams the door with enough force to make the old walls rattle.

*     *     *

IT’S ALL AN INNOCENT GAME.

No harm.

He’s used to intimidating grown men, not little girls with an anxious edge. He’s only teasing her to fill the boredom. Her quick blushes are an easy distraction and since getting under her skin is effortless, the entertainment is harmless.

It’s wrong that it is so easy.

He enjoys watching the pinkness vanish, highlighting the surface of her creamy, vanilla skin. How her big green eyes sparkle whenever he makes her tremble—

The vibration on his hip breaks through his thoughts. He throws aside his comforter, wincing slightly when his arm jerks out too fast, but he doesn’t break stride, pressing the button before it touches his ear. “Vladimir?"

“Colt! Where the fuck are you?!"

Colt swallows, rubbing his eyes. It feels like days ago since everything went down. “There was a complication."

“No shit, Sherlock. Figured that when we got a call from our friend." The tension in the call wavers.

“He called?"

“Yeah. What went wrong?"

“Extra guard on the east side. He drew his gun before I could talk, not that I would have. Got him before he could get a second shot though."

“You’ll live?"

“Yeah," Colt sighs.

"Spencer thinks it’s a burglary."

“I guess he's not as bright as we thought."

“Where’re you now?”

Colt's eyes close, pinching down hard when he thinks about the irony of the situation.

“The Appletons."

“You—” Kulich’s chuckle is harsh, cold. “—You wanna repeat that again?"

“That's the complication,” he answers, in a low voice.

“So there's more than one?"

“Besides me being shot? Yeah."

“Colt, spit it out!” Kulich yells.

“His daughter,” he whispers. “She found me before I could get the job done and I passed out. Now she's hiding me in her attic till I'm well enough to get out of here…"

Silence haunts the line between them.

“She suspect anything?"

“No," he says, not hesitating to answer. “I fed her a lie.”

“Get out of there, Colt."

“Yeah, I’m trying. Don't have a choice right now. I'll be gone soon—trust me.” His eyes drop to the floor knowing she’s just underneath him.

“She'll never know I’m here to kill her father."

“YOU’RE SURE?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. The old walls around him creak like their spying on him. “She’s got no idea."

Kulich sighs. “I don't like this, Colt. Get out when everyone is asleep."

“I can't,” Colt huffs. “Fuck, I can barely walk right now."

“You think her hiding you is gonna stop her from spilling her guts to her family?”

“Vladimir, she thinks this is some kind of gang war and if she tells her family is in the shits. She won’t say anything.” Colt's hushed voice remains steady. “Besides she would’ve done it by now if she thought I’m a real threat. I’m getting her to trust me—she’ll do whatever I ask soon."

“Parents home?” Kulich asks, his voice demanding.

Colt, clouded in thought, answers automatically, “No—”

“Wait, does she know your name?"

“Yeah… Just the first."

“What's hers?"

Rebecca
…

“Don't know, don't want to. I’ll be gone soon." He’s lied.

“Then what?” Kulich’s voice rises. “She's still gonna know who the fuck you are. We can’t trust the bitch isn’t gonna say anything just because she’s taking care of your weak ass right now and can’t resist your fucking gorgeous charm. Fuck. She can panic and once Daddy dearest realizes what’s happened at the factory and starts telling her to be aware of such and such man—she's gonna put two and two together and this whole fucking thing is gonna blow sky high."

Colt looks up at the small octagon-shaped window. “What’d you suggest?"

His boss waits before replying in a voice barely audible, but dead in tone, “Get rid of her."

“Vladimir…” Colt's eyes close, his voice staggers and he smacks his head against the armrest behind him. “You're kidding, right?" he mutters.

“What other option do I have?”

“A girl? Fuck that, Vladimir."

“She's a fucking witness, Colt, a witness. She can blow this whole fucking thing wide open especially if dear ol' daddy starts getting wise to last night’s events."

Colt's head shakes, his chest tightens. “Vladimir… killing her is not an option, you hear me?"

When Kulich speaks again his voice is silky and smooth, the faintest hint of calculation burrowing underneath. “Let's just take one step at a time. Right now I want you outta there. Then we meet, decide what’s next."

A burning sensation in Colt's lungs flag when he tries to swallow. “Call before I head back to the city?"

“No. When you’re man enough to escape that shit-hole find the nearest hotel—motel—or whatever those hillbillies have and notify me ASAP. You got that?"

“Thought you wanted me back down there ASAP? Isn't staying kind of pushing it?"

“The job ain’t finished. If we wait for routine to kick in again they’ll double security—they’re gonna be expecting another hit. Since none of my guys know about this except you and Benny, I want everyone to think it’s from the outside even after that son-of-bitch Spencer is floating face down in the river. No-one will be expecting us to strike now. Spencer’s probably in a fucking frenzy trying to cover his ass. This gets done NOW."

“Whatever you want." Colt never disobeys.

“Kid, trust me. You know I know what's best, right?"

Colt breathes out hard into the phone. “Yeah."

“Remember that—don't turn into a pussy on me."

He squeezes the ends of his forehead. “I'm not, Vladimir,” he says, his reply more irritated than he intends. “I just—I don't like the way this is working out, that's it."

“Trust me."

“I do. That's not the issue."

“Well, what then? What’d I tell you when I dragged you off the fucking streets and away from all that biker bullshit? Told you in
this
business to do what you’re told, never ask questions, never think you know better. If you know your place, show fear and respect to your boss—you are infallible. I need to know you trust me to handle this, Colt. You’ve never second guessed me. Now is not the fucking time to start."

The angelic face of the girl emerges suddenly when he squeezes his eyes shut. “I know,” he says, his voice surrendering. “I trust you, Vladimir."

“Good. Then call me when you’re out of there and not a minute before or after. In fact I'd rather you keep the fucking phone somewhere where she can't find it."

Colt bites down on his lower lip. “Okay... She won’t find it.”

“Good. Got this fucking gala thing tonight. If there's an emergency call my cell otherwise I don't wanna hear from your ass till you’re outta that fucking house."

“Right."

The call goes dead.

He squeezes the ends of his forehead again. He’s done something he’s never done before.

He lied twice to Vladimir Kulich. His boss. The man who’s like a father to him.

For a stranger. A girl.

He has to get out of here.

It takes all his remaining strength to push himself to his feet. The pain is like an earthquake wracking his body and before he can take a second footstep, his eyes close as a black pool surrounds his vision, his knees give way and his body slams to the ground.

It feels like Hell itself has opened up underneath him.

*     *     *

“BOSS?”

Vladimir Kulich dashes his signature at the end of the contract on his desk. “What, Luis?"

“Uh, Marco told me you wanted me, Mr. Kulich.”

“Get the car ready."

“Why?"

Kulich rises. “Do I need a reason? Get the fucking car now."

Luis backs away, nodding instead of answering. Kulich’s eyes stalk him even after Luis has closed the door.

His temper is out of control. He’s getting fucked from all sides and the last thing he wants to hear is some biker trash opinion on his impending enemy.

He presses speed-dial on his phone, listens to the numbers beep in his ear. The voice on the other line clears its way through a cough before there is any greeting. “Mr. Kulich."

“Benny. I'm going outta town, should be back tomorrow night the latest."

“Mr. Kulich, I don't think that's a good idea, sir. We got negotiations with Abruzzi coming up."

“Don't give a shit. I'm telling you to watch the warehouse while I'm gone."

“Can I ask, sir, what’s so urgent you need to leave so suddenly?"

Kulich smooths his hand down his silk tie, plays with the end. He licks his lips like a jungle animal preying for a good hunt.

“I think it's time I pay Mr. Appleton a visit."

THE CLOCK STARTS NOW.

Twenty-four hours.

That’s what I’m giving him. The bullet obviously hasn’t hit any major arteries.. I hope...

Becky expels a breath that’s been bottled deep in her chest. She can’t stop thinking about him. The edges of his sharp features never buff down. The brow over his eyes always roof protectively over the crystal colors that stare back at her with such potency, it makes her insides dance in fear—

The
thud
above her shatters her day-dream.

Oh God, what was that?

She gets up on her elbows, not sure she really heard it. Then a smaller
thud
sounds.

Colt.

Becky is out of the bed in a shot, her fingers grazing the doorframe for support as she hastens for the stairs. She checks Toby quickly, who is snoring away before she zips back up the stairs, taking two at a time. The air around her aches as she gulps small amounts in. She doesn’t know why she’s so scared.

He probably just needs more water...

Every time her fingers touch the cool knob her heart stops beating. She pictures him standing like a mountain over her, his gun pointed directly at her heart. His appraising eyes will speak the words
‘S.U.C.K.E.R.’
out right, then turn pleasing and satiated as he pulls the trigger. She swallows ignoring the things she can’t control and turns the knob.

Chills chase up her back as she takes in the room. Her eyes squint, the dark overshadowing the impending sunlight in the small attic.

Oh God… No!

Colt is on the floor, face down; blood trails out from under his side and spills across the wooden floor.

“Colt!... Colt!” She rushes to his side. Rolling him over, using all the strength she has to move his weighty mass, she pushes at his solid hip, well below his wound. “Come on,” she pleads. After a few seconds of pushing his dead weight gives in and his body lays against the bottom of the futon.

She shakes him. His face is the color of bone, paler than any human she’s ever seen.

“Oh God, Colt, wake up." She yanks at the top of his tight black t-shirt, her other hand cradling his face. “Colt, I need you to wake up.” She slaps him in the face, hard, hitting him again and again. “Colt, wake up!" After the seventh slap, his pale cheeks are dark with red splotches. “God, please…” Her desperate whisper swallows up by the nothingness around her. “Please,” she urges, pushing her hair back from her damp face.

“Colt.” She pulls at his shirt, her forehead presses against his and she fiercely orders her next words, “Open up your eyes, goddammit—now, Colt.” She taps at his bruised cheek. “Give me something, please... Wake up!” She crushes her face to his. A tear drops onto his nose and then, as if the tiny drop of moisture revives life in him, he awakes with a startled gasp. She withdraws, her hands still framing his face. “Okay... You're okay." She can’t fight back her grin. She doesn’t want to.

His face turns a sickly gray. She looks down at his side. The blood around his wound is oozing small drops.

“Listen to me, I need you to stay still and put pressure on the wound.” She grabs the pillow above his head. “Hold this against the wound…. Colt...” Her fingers clasp him underneath his chin, forcing his attention solely at her. “Look at me."

His half-lid eyes are unfocused, the blue overcast with fever. He licks his upper lip sluggishly like it takes all the strength in the world to do so. “I need you to look at me, okay? Focus, Colt. You need to go to the hospital—“

He responds fast, shaking his head as he tries to sit up. “No! No they’ll kill me,” he grunts. “I'm fine… just fine."

“Then let me get you some medicine." Before he can utter his next words she cuts him off, “I don't have time to argue with you.” She gently moves his chin up, his eyelids drifting up and down. “Colt. Pay attention. I'll be right back. I’m going to get you some meds, just don't move. Keep the pillow on your wound."

He moves his mouth to talk but coughs hard into his hand. The congestion in his cough sounds like it has the beginnings of bronchitis, but Becky forces herself to ignore that possibility. She brushes her hand up and down his arm as his coughing fit dies down. “Shssh… It's okay."

“No…” He shakes his head again, his face red and taut. “…They'll be… suspicious."

“Let me take care of that,” she says, ignoring his weak protest. “I know someone who can help. Just please listen to me and say still, I don't want your wound opening anymore. I'm going to get bigger gauzes and more disinfectant for the wound." His lids are bobbing again. If she doesn’t get the help he needs she’s going to lose him. She squeezes his chin with her fingers. “Hey.” She jerks him up hard. “Did you hear me?" His breathing evens out a bit but it remains shallow and faint. His stare meets hers after several seconds of struggle. “Promise me you’ll do as I say." He nods his head. “Promise me?"

The murkiness clinging to him parts for a second and he holds her gaze. “Promise.”

She releases him gently, taking the cushion from the bed and places it under his head. “I'll be right back. Just hold on.”

His eyes are already closed. She allows herself a second to study him then glances out toward the window.

Outside, the Sun is rising. But in her world it still feels very much like night.

There is only one person who can help her. And the thought of it makes her sick to the stomach.

Time to make a deal with the Devil.