The Mistaken (28 page)

I closed my eyes, my blood running cold. “Meaning?”
I asked, only too aware that Hannah was listening.

“I think you know already, don’t you, my friend?”
Alexi laughed again. “Yes, of course you do. When you are ready, we
will make a trade. Nick for the girl.”

He disconnected the call.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the shock settling
into my already overloaded brain.

“
Well? Who was that?” Hannah asked.
“Your brother?” She watched me closely, waiting for an
explanation.

I could barely muster a blank stare in return. I
couldn’t let her know what had happened. She’d freak. I had to play
like nothing much had changed yet. I broke away and moved to the
table where I placed the bag.

“Um…yeah. That was Nick. He’s, um… He’s…taking care
of things.” I removed the six-pack, grabbed a bottle, and cracked
it open, draining it in one long pull.

Hannah shot me an uncomfortable look. “You think
that’s a good idea?” she asked.

I sighed in blessed relief then said, “Well, if
you’d like me fully functioning, then yes, it’s a grand idea.”

I pulled out another bottle, popped the cap, and
held it out to her. Hannah declined with a shake of her head. I
wiggled the bottle and smiled at her, knowing it would elicit some
kind of response.

“Oh come on,” I said, “it’s just one six-pack
between the two of us. I insist...please.”

Surprisingly, she accepted the bottle, returned my
smile, and took a sip to appease me. I sat down at the small table
and patted the chair next to me. Hannah, though somewhat reluctant,
joined me. I pulled everything out of the bag, except for the
vodka, and placed it on the table. I selected a deck of cards from
the stash and shuffled.

“Care for a game of poker or maybe twenty-one?” I
asked. “Rummy? Go Fish? Old Maid?”

I fanned the cards in front of her, my very best
smile, however false, plastered upon my face. I wasn’t above
manipulating her as I needed. I was turning over all the
implications of Nick’s predicament while still trying to remain
calm for Hannah’s sake.

Hannah snorted in resignation. “Sure, how about some
poker?” she said and smiled. It was pure and genuine and changed
her entire face, lighting it up from the inside out. I was
captivated by how lovely she looked when she appeared relaxed and
happy. I found it difficult to take my eyes from her face and the
sudden spark in her bright green eyes.

“What?” she asked when I continued to stare.

“Nothing. Let’s play.”

Though I was distracted by Alexi’s ultimatum, I
tried to concentrate on the cards and relax with Hannah for a
while. We played several hands of Texas Hold’em, wagering
outlandish bets with the goldfish crackers I’d bought. She was
quite the card shark and hustled me out of every goldfish I
possessed. We shared a sandwich and chips and washed it all down
with the beer. Hannah was enchanting when she loosened up. While I
hoped it was my charming company, I realized it was most likely
just the alcohol.

Much to my surprise, I enjoyed playing cards with
her, even with all the worrying about Nick and what I was going to
do to get him back without giving up Hannah. After three beers, I
caught her staring at me. With a bashful smile, she turned away. If
I didn’t know any better, I would say it almost felt like flirting,
but again, it was probably just the beer. She was getting very
tired. Her eyes drooped and her attention slipped away.

“You look wiped, Hannah. You should probably get
some sleep,” I said, though I hardly wanted to let her go yet. “Why
don’t you go get cleaned up and hit the sack? I’ll be over on my
side of the room all night, I swear.” I raised my hand and crossed
my heart.

She offered me an anemic smile then headed off to
the bathroom. I cleaned up the table and spread the map out to
examine. Hannah came out of the bathroom, dressed in sweats, and
climbed into bed.

“You know, the car has a GPS,” she offered.

“Yeah, I know. I just need to get a clear idea of
where we’re going in my head,” I said as I tapped my temple. “I’m
kind of a Luddite, I guess.”

She twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile.
“Oh, well, goodnight then,” she added.

“G’night,” I replied.

She lay down and turned away from me. I sat there
for a long while, staring at her back. When I thought she’d relaxed
into sleep, I spoke out softly.

“I’m very sorry, Hannah. For today. For everything.”
It was no more than a whisper, spoken more for me than for her, but
after a moment, I heard her respond.

“Okay.”

It was just one word, but it was like being pierced
through the heart. One bittersweet, heartbreaking moment that
underscored the differences between us. She had the ability to be
compassionate, to forgive even the most unforgivable offense. As
much as I needed to believe that she might actually forgive me, it
nearly destroyed me that she genuinely seemed willing to do so,
because I certainly was not worth forgiving.

When I heard her even, steady breathing and knew she
was asleep, I pulled out the bottle of vodka, not so much because I
needed it to calm my nerves or chase away the ghosts, but more
because I felt contemptible and beneath Hannah’s company. I
couldn’t keep the tears from stinging the backs of my eyes as I
poured glass after glass, feeling the Devil fill my soul.

This time, the hate and rage were not directed
toward someone else, but at myself, where it truly and ultimately
belonged.

~

I paced the floor for a couple hours, trying to come
up with a plan to save both Nick
and
Hannah. I spent more
than a small amount of time propped up against the wall watching
her, studying her face, so beautiful, so peaceful in sleep. I knew
I shouldn’t be watching her without her knowledge, but I missed
having that kind of beauty near me. Having it so close, yet knowing
it was not mine was a bitter pill, but I felt as if I’d been pulled
back through time, back to when Jillian was still alive. I was
unbearably lonely, and, at that moment, Hannah filled me in ways
Jillian once had. It was difficult to turn away from something as
alluring as that. With all the turmoil inside me, it was calming to
just sit and stare at her.

Eventually, I closed my eyes in the darkness, leaned
my head back against the wall, and, for the first time in more days
than I could count, I fell asleep. It seemed like only seconds
later when Hannah cried out. I was on my feet and at her side in a
heartbeat. I tried to wake her with a gentle tap, but she continued
to thrash about in her sleep. It took a long moment for her to come
fully awake, and when she did, she screamed and pushed away from
me.

“No. Get away. Don’t touch me!” she wailed.

I jumped back with my hands raised. “Whoa! Easy now.
I’m not going to hurt you.”

She sat up and pressed herself back against the
headboard, her eyes wild and confused.

“Hannah, it was just a dream. It’s okay. You’re
safe.”

She looked at me, mistrust pulsating with every
ragged heartbeat. It took great effort for her to suppress her
fear. Both hands trembled as she raised them to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m
okay.”

It felt like if she said it enough times, she might
actually believe it. She eventually calmed down enough to lie back
in bed, turning away from me once more. It took a great deal more
time before she relaxed enough to fall back to sleep. The whole
time, I sat at the small table, my eyes fixed on her back. My head
felt ready to explode with renewed throbbing. I was completely
exhausted, running on nothing but fumes.

When I finally heard Hannah breathing slowly and
evenly again, I poured myself one more glass and pulled out the
vial of OxyContin. I slipped a tiny pill into my mouth and washed
it down with the vodka. I closed my eyes, laid my head in my arms
on the table, and waited for the world to mercifully disappear.

Chapter
Twenty
-
Seven

Hannah

A gentle tapping on my shoulder urged me awake. The
weight of someone pushed down on the edge of the bed beside me. The
fog of sleep that lingered heavily in my brain dissipated as if a
strong wind had blown through. My eyes flew open and searched
through the darkness.

Tyler was sitting next to me, looking distressed
with his finger pressed up to his lips, asking me to keep silent.
He had the gun in his hand with the barrel raised up as he pointed
toward the door. I was instantly alert and on edge.

“Gather your things quickly and put your shoes on,”
he whispered then stood and backed away.

With my heart thumping, I slid out of bed. I tried
to be soundless while the panic rose inside me. I stuffed my few
belongings into my bag then searched for my shoes. From the window,
I glimpsed a thin shaft of light as it knifed through the gap in
the draperies. It shimmered onto a clear bottle standing empty on
the table, refracting into a kaleidoscope of colors.

My attention flew to Tyler. He stood near the door
with his back pushed up against the wall. He caught me studying
him, and I knew the moment he closed his eyes against me that he’d
been drinking, and heavily. The hairs on my neck and limbs stood at
attention, like tiny needles piercing my skin from the inside out.
It was a warning, a neon sign buzzing with electricity, glowing red
in the black of night. How could Tyler protect me if he was drunk?
I took several calming breaths and crammed my feet into my shoes
without untying them.

The front door knob rattled. Someone was trying to
enter. Ty backed away in my direction and pushed me toward the rear
of the room. With a sudden blast, the door exploded inward. A man
dressed in black stood silhouetted in the light pouring through
splintered frame. He held a gun in his hand and lowered it in our
direction. There was a quick flash and a muted thwack as dust
exploded from the wall near my head.

“Hannah, get down!” Ty screamed as he pushed me to
the floor.

Explosions of light and sound were tossed back and
forth, an exchange of bullets between the gunman and Ty. Tyler fell
back on top of me, his gun still raised in his hand. Then the
gunfire ended, as quickly as it began. A sulphurous odor weighed
heavily in the wispy cloud of gun smoke hovering in the air.

Tyler jumped to his feet, his weapon trained on the
intruder’s head. He stood over the wounded stranger who moaned and
writhed on the floor. Ty kicked the gun from his hand then picked
it up, holding it up to the light streaming through the open
doorway. The shape was abnormally long, as if it had a silencer
attached to the barrel. A sure sign this was no simple robbery. The
intruder struggled to his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth as
he cursed in a foreign language. Tyler took a step back and pointed
the gunman’s own weapon at his head.

“Don’t do it,” he warned, though the gun trembled in
his hand.

The man pulled a knife from his boot and surged
forward in a quick blur. Ty jumped back, turned his head, and fired
a single round, all in the same instant.

A red mist sprayed onto the wall behind the intruder
while a small trickle of blood oozed from his forehead. He fell
over onto his side, his body convulsing in jerky spasms. Brain
matter lay in globs amid the torrent of blood draining from the
back of his head, staining the tattered carpet beneath him.

I gasped at the sight of the man being killed,
though I knew in all likelihood he had come looking for me. Ty, who
was strangely calm, turned to face me. He met my terrified gaze and
ordered me to grab my things. We both charged around the room,
picking up our meager belongings. Stepping over the body of the now
dead gunman, we dashed out the door and scrambled into the BMW. The
tires screeched as we retreated from the motel parking lot, heading
south onto the darkened highway.

Though we were both breathing heavily as we made our
escape, we remained otherwise silent. My body hummed, my muscles
charged as if a current buzzed through me. I began to shake all
over. I clasped my hands tight between my knees and breathed in
deep through my nose and out through my mouth. Tyler was still as a
starfish. For a while, the adrenaline kept him focused on the dark
and winding road ahead, but as time distanced us from the ugly
scene we’d left behind, his driving became erratic. He groaned in
pain, wincing as he ran his hand over his right shoulder.

“Oh my God, Ty. Are you hurt?” I asked, frightened
at the possibility. “Pull over! Pull over right now!”

“No, I’m fine. We can’t afford to slow down now.”
His eyes rocked back and forth between the road and the rear view
mirror. “I don’t know who else might be behind us.”

“
Oh, for God’s sake, it won’t
matter who’s behind us if we crash. Now pull over.” I was alarmed
at the difficulty he had controlling the car, and terrified that he
might be more seriously injured than he was letting on. “Tyler,
please.”

He relented and took the next turnoff, checking the
mirrors for anyone who might be pursuing us. Satisfied that no one
followed, he turned right and drove down an isolated roadway for
several miles until I urged him to stop. Finally, he pulled over
and cut the engine.

“Do you need help getting out?” I asked as I climbed
from the car and headed for the trunk.

He didn’t answer, just climbed out on his own,
though he drew in a deep breath and clenched teeth.

“Come back here so I can take a look,” I ordered. I
opened the small toolbox built into the trunk lid and pulled out a
flashlight. Ty’s leather jacket was torn and stained near his
shoulder. “Okay, let’s get that coat off you.”

He grunted and grimaced as I pulled the jacket away
from the injured area. When it was free, I threw it into the trunk
and reached for the first-aid kit.