34. Cassius
thirty-four
It’s been eighteen hours without a word from her. Eighteen hours since she slipped away under the cover of night. Eighteen hours of unknown. G has been trying to track her with traffic cams, but so far has been unsuccessful. I refuse to believe she just left. That after everything, this is how it ends.
In front of me, the heavy bag sways from the force of my fist. Smears of blood litter the surface from my raw knuckles. My veins throb, my muscles cord with tension. Tension I thought I had felt the last of. Tension I thought I would never feel again.
I pound the bag, over and over. The thuds reverberate in my head, echoing my labored breathing.
“Jesus, how are you not keeled over yet?” Garrett asks when he enters the gym.
I shoot him a glare and hit the bag again. The strip of duct tape running down the center rips, exposing the original tear. Exposing its scars, like Ruby’s exposed mine. “You better fucking have something,” I say through gritted teeth, hitting the bag again.
“They don’t call her a ghost for nothing.”
“You found her last time.”
“Yeah,” Garrett says sheepishly, “because she fucking let me. I’m telling you, man, she’s gone.”
“You’re supposed to be the best.”
“I am the best.”
“Apparently fucking not.”
“Fuck you, man, you realize this is all your fucking fault, right? You were the idiot? It’s your fault that Hannah died. It’s your fault that Sophie’s life went to shit. Fuck, you’ll be lucky if I don’t fucking kill you myself.”
“I deserve that,” I admit.
“I don’t even know how to look at you, Cass.” Garrett drags his hand over his face. “Tell me this, the money you made off the suits? That’s what we used to escape, right?”
I nod.
“Every bone in my body hates you right now. And you're lucky I’m terrified of your assassin girlfriend, or I probably would have killed you the other night. I know I just said Hannah’s death was your fault, but I know it wasn’t. You had no way of knowing. But Cass, you could have told me. We could have taken those suit fuckers and Neil out ten years ago. Who the fuck knows what other fucked up shit they’ve done since?”
He can spew whatever bullshit he wants, but Hannah’s death is on me, and that’s something I have to live with forever.
“Also,” Garrett paces in front of me, “I kind of expected Ruby to kill you by now.”
“She is not trying to kill me,” I hesitate. “Anymore.”
“Cass, she’s fucking playing you. She’s an assassin. The best assassin. The assassin that kills people like us just because she can.”
I feel the bones crunch beneath my fist before I register what I’ve done. Blood gushes out of Garrett’s nose, splattering the mat beneath our feet.
“Real friends tell you the truth,” he says and then he spits blood at my feet before turning his back to me.
A buzzing noise fills the room and then stops.
Garrett turns to look at me, eyes wide. “Is that?” He gestures with his head to my phone.
I nod before picking my phone up off the bench. A single text flashes on the screen.
Unknown number: Midnight ride. Alone.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Garrett asks from behind me, reading over my shoulder.
“It means I’ve gotta go.”
Garrett trails behind me as I leave the gym and head to my room to change. She wants to meet. What does this mean? Garrett’s words haunt me, even though I don’t want to believe them.
“Where are you going?”
“A place we’ve met before.”
“You’re not going to tell me where?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want you to interfere. If she wanted to kill me, she would have already.” But even as I say it, I check the mag of my 380 and chamber a round before putting it in its holster attached to my belt. “Besides,” I continue, “you need to go have your nose reset.”
Garrett exits my bathroom with a wet cloth, swiping at the blood on his face. “Eh.” He shrugs. “I kind of thought the crooked nose thing was in. Chicks love a good story.”
I smile because this is me and G. This is our story. Our truth. Our friendship. We have ups and downs and ebbs and flows, but at the end of the day, we’re ride or die.
“You know I can just track the Impala, right?”
“But you’re not going to unless you hear from me.”
Garrett looks at me pointedly, waiting for me to continue.
“Or don’t hear from me,” I relent. “If you don’t hear from me by 1 a.m., it means I’m probably bleeding out and you should kidnap a doctor to bring with you.”
“Not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.”