37. London
Chapter 37
London
I float in and out of sleep, my body wrapped around Archer's all night long. I wake just enough to confirm he's still there and drift out again.
He stirs, holding me tighter and kissing my head. I feel him sigh and I wish we could stay like this, forever together, out of harm’s way and ignoring the troubles of the world.
But I know come morning, reality will sink in and we'll be forced to face the impossible situation I've brought into his life.
So I allow this momentary and fleeting opportunity to entertain what will never happen again, because I've decided that the only person who can save me is myself and I can't let a man cloud my judgment ever again. I only regret that I didn't do it sooner and end my father's life before he had the chance to ruin mine.
"I love you," Archer whispers, and moves once more.
I reach for him, but sleep still has its hold on me, and I can't maintain a grip on him. I must have imagined Archer saying that, in the hypothetical fairy tale I fabricated to commit to memory so I never have to come to terms with the truth.
The truth that as soon as the opportunity presents itself, I'm going to betray Archer once and for all.
I'm going to kill Joe Vito.
I wake sometime later, gasping for air as I open my eyes to find Seven sitting on the bed beside me instead of Archer. "Jesus Christ, Seven. You scared the fucking shit out of me." I scoot up and away, clutching at my chest. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
He reaches for me, his fingers out. "You have some drool right there."
I smack him away. "No, I don't." I lick my lips and wipe my mouth just in case.
"Whatcha wanna do today?" Seven says, repositioning himself more comfortably.
I rub my eyes. "Where's Archer?"
"I don't know." He shrugs. "He was being all weird and cryptic. Asked me to come babysit."
"I don't need babysat," I groan and slip out of bed, Seven staying there as I grab clothes to change into. "How long is he going to be gone?"
"I don't know, firecracker. A couple of hours, probably." He examines his hands. "Will you paint my nails?"
I stop and look right at him. "What?"
"My nails, will you paint them?" Seven drags his legs off the bed and comes over to me, holding out his tattooed fingers to me. "What do you think about black?"
"Why don't you just go get them done at a salon, Seven?"
"Because I don't like people."
"I'm people," I tell him with my arms full of clothes.
"Nah, I like you, firecracker." He rubs my head, messing up my hair more than it already was.
"I'm honored." I roll my eyes and turn on my heel to march toward the bathroom, Seven close behind me. I come to a stop before the bathroom door. "Um, excuse me, a little privacy."
"Geez. It's nothing I haven't seen before." Seven throws his arms up as I shut the door in his face. "You never answered me," he says loudly through the door. "I'm bored, what do you want to do? You wanna get some food or something?"
I make quick work of peeing, changing out of my clothes, and brushing my teeth and hair. I splash my face with water and throw on some makeup, deciding that today calls for winged eyeliner—channeling my inner Taylor Swift. With a final glance in the mirror, I apply an auburn lipstick and tuck my hair behind my ears. I force a smile, the memory of the first time I looked in this mirror coming back to me. I was a different woman then—battered and bruised and terrified of my haunted past. Today, I fully embrace the fact that I'm going to face it head-on, no longer willing to live in the shadows caused by a man. I hate that I have to risk everything, but my freedom has to count for something. I can't continue to put everyone else first, I must consider what's best for me.
"Damn," Seven says when I open the door.
Marching past him, I continue into the bedroom and kneel beside the bed, reaching my hand in until I find what I'm searching for. I pull out the gun Seven gave me when Archer was distracted and check the barrel to make sure it's loaded.
Seven leans in the doorway, his tattooed arms across his chest, a smile creeping across his face.
I tuck the gun into my waistband. "Take me to The Branford?"
Seven doesn't question me, he doesn't inquire about what we're doing. All he does is say, "Let's go."
I follow Seven through Archer's apartment and pause at the door to leave my phone on the table Archer keeps his keys. I'm well aware that he's been using it to track and spy on me, and in the past, I've allowed it to happen, but today, I don't want Archer to stalk me, not when I'm about to betray him in a way we'll never recover from.
Taking in his apartment for the last time, I draw in a breath and leave, my stomach in knots at the idea that I'll never be close to him again, to feel his skin on mine, his body pressed against me.
I love you, his voice calls out to me, but it was only a fever dream. It wasn't real. None of this was.
Then why does my heart hurt so badly?
I ignore the ache seeping through me and reach for the handle of Seven's car, but he gets there first.
"I'm not being a gentleman; I just don't want your fingerprints all over it." Seven opens it for me and closes me in, the smell of new car somehow still present despite him having this at the very least since I've known Archer.
I settle into the seat and fight the urge to change my mind, to turn back while I still have a chance. There's still time for Archer to come up with a solution, to figure a way out of this, but what if he doesn't and this is the only opportunity I have to get to Vito without Archer stopping me? I can't risk the possibility that my fate is sealed, I have to end this once and for all.
Seven pokes through some music as he maneuvers us into traffic, finally choosing nothing, the silence filling his Rolls-Royce. He speeds through town and darts around cars carelessly like he didn't just give me shit about putting fingerprints on the door.
It takes twelve awkward minutes to get to The Branford Hotel. Seven pulls up front and puts the car into park, completely ignoring the other vehicles coming and going.
"You ready to do this?" Seven glances over at me and reaches for his door handle.
"I need to do this myself, Seven." I clear my throat. "Plus, you'd make him suspicious. I have to go in alone."
"Archer's going to kill me," he says as if I didn't already know that, but I can't let it deter me, not when I'm this close.
"For what it's worth, he'll probably kill me, too." I drag my bottom lip into my mouth and imagine how angry Archer is going to be, both at me and Seven. Me for killing Vito and dooming his entire family, and Seven for allowing it to happen.
"What do you want on your tombstone?" Seven asks me, his train of thought so random at times.
"I don't know. Think of something cool for me." I put my hand on the door handle, my gaze focused on the hotel and not on Seven, because if I look at him, I might change my mind. Sure, he's a fucking lunatic, but he's become a friend over the last few weeks, and I'm betraying him, too.
"How long do you think it'll take?" Seven asks me, causing me to pause.
"You don't need to wait, I'll find a way home." I leave the vehicle before he questions me about anything else I don't have an answer to and march right past the valet and into the hotel lobby.
The lights are bright and borderline blinding but I keep on, because I have no choice. I can't turn back now.
"Checking in?" the woman at the desk says to me when I approach, a soft smile on her plain face.
"Actually, I'm here to see a guest. Joe Vito. Room four-twenty-three. Could you let him know I'm here?" Hotels like this don't allow random people to access the elevators. You need a room key, and I don't have one of those. I'd love the element of surprise with him, but this will have to do.
"What's your name?" she asks me.
"London Gardella." It's the first time in a while that I've truly acknowledged my name out loud, and I have to say, I was quite getting used to being London Smith, the orphaned girl trying to start over in a new town. I hate having any association with the man who ruined my life. My father.
"One moment." She picks up a phone and pushes a few buttons. "Hello, sir. This is the front desk. You have a guest here, London Gardella." After a long pause, she extends the receiver to me.
I hold it to my ear, the time for backing out fully expiring now that he knows I'm here. "Hello," I say while trying to keep my voice from cracking.
"My London girl. What a pleasant but unexpected surprise. Have you come alone?"
"Yes."
"And where's your lover boy, Archer?"
"I don't know."
"Interesting." He goes quiet for a minute. "I'll meet you by the elevators. I'll be down momentarily." Joe hangs up and I give the phone back to the woman who pretends to be busy on her computer.
"Thanks. He's going to meet me," I tell her. "Where are the elevators?"
She points behind me. "Through that walkway."
I step out of the way, giving the man waiting in line a chance to be helped, and make my way in that direction, swallowing my nerves in hopes that I'll be able to accomplish what I set out to do here. I can't think about the consequences, for me, or for Archer, because the only important thing to consider is gaining my freedom for once in my life. I already have my story planned out in my head. I went up to meet him and he forced himself on me. I grabbed a weapon he had up there and used it as self-defense. Seven told me it was untraceable, and I can't imagine he would have lied about that. I highly doubt someone as experienced as Seven would make a mistake that massive. I try not to let the gun bother me while walking through here, the cold barrel rubbing against my bare skin, but too many prying eyes and cameras are on me, otherwise I'd adjust the way it's sitting in my pants.
The wait feels like an eternity and a blink of an eye, and every time the elevator dings my stomach turns a bit more.
I rehearse this over and over in my head, but nothing prepares me for the cold that sweeps over me when Joe Vito steps out of the elevator toward me. My lips part and suddenly I shrink, my entire body going stiff at the weight of the situation. I'm not prepared for this, I'm not ready.
"London girl." Joe stalks toward me, turning and putting his hand on my lower back and guiding me in the direction he came. "I'm so happy to see you." He keeps his grimy palm on me as he pushes the up button, the elevator doors springing open for us.
I go in and remain composed, not wanting to fuck things up just yet. I have to get him into his room. I can't do this here, even if I really fucking want to get it over with.
"You're so tense." Joe comes up to my rear and puts both hands on my shoulders, rubbing harder than he should, like he's trying to assert his male dominance in some weird way.
The light goes from the first floor to the second to the third, and dings at the fourth. I take a big step away from him and move toward his room, hoping like hell he doesn't put his hands on me again but very aware that's exactly what he intends on doing once we're behind closed doors.
Joe is much larger than me, significantly heavier, and no doubt stronger. It wouldn't be hard for him to overpower me, even with a gun trained on him, and I don't exactly wrap my head around that until we're on the other side of the door inside his hotel suite.
"Let me get you a drink." He goes over to the minibar and yanks the cork out of a whiskey bottle, pouring two glasses with three fingers’ worth. "Cheers to us." Joe gives me no choice, clinking his glass against mine and keeping his stare on me as he gulps down his drink.
I swallow the golden liquid, ignoring the burn as it ripples down my throat and warms my belly.
"What made you change your mind?" Joe takes my empty glass from me and sets it on the counter next to his.
I pretend to explore his suite to put some distance between us. "Archer had nothing to do with this. I didn't see a reason for him to suffer." I manage to keep my composure pretty well, considering I'm screaming on the inside to get the fuck out of here. My nervous system hasn't felt this high of an alert since my father was alive.
"Hold that thought." Joe picks up the hotel phone and pushes a button. "Yes, I'd like champagne and strawberries sent up." He mumbles something else I can't quite make out overtop my heartbeat pounding loudly in my ears.
"Can I use your bathroom?" I ask him.
"What's mine is yours, wife." He pokes his finger toward a closed door. "Through there."
I bolt quickly, but not so quickly it raises suspicion, into the room, closing the door shut behind me. I let out a breath and rush over to the sink, turning the water on and lifting my shirt to adjust the gun pressing into my flesh. Staring at my reflection, I consider how I got here, almost actually escaping this man, if it weren't for Madison blowing my cover. I hate her for what she did to me, what she did to Archer. And I hate myself for doing the same fucking thing. I shake my head because I can't think like that, I can't let his feelings come in the way of my own. I have to choose myself—I'm the only person who ever will. I cannot rely on a father, a man, or anyone to save me. I have to do it myself.
When I'm sure I've been in here almost long enough, I flush the toilet and pretend like I'm washing my hands. I wipe them on a fresh towel under the sink, not trusting the one sitting on the counter. Joe is gross and there's no telling what he did with it.
"I figured we could celebrate," he tells me once I've returned. "We're going to have a great life together, London girl. I'll arrange the jet to fly you home tomorrow, and I'll join you as soon as I've finished my meetings. Don't worry about your belongings, I'll get you brand-new everything. You won't want for anything." Joe comes closer, so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath struggling to mask the stench of the cigars he must have been smoking earlier. "And soon enough, I'll put a baby in you."
It's everything I can do not to vomit, my lips pressing together.
A knock sounds on the door and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
Joe smiles, plaque buildup on his teeth showing. "Must be our dessert." He winks lazily at me and heads to the door, peeking through the peephole.
I reach into my pants, taking hold of the gun and putting it behind my back while he isn't paying attention.
Joe opens the door, the hotel worker bringing in a tray on wheels, the man’s head hung low to avoid eye contact.
"Over there," Joe tells him and pulls out his money clip, sliding a twenty off and tossing it onto the rolling table. He grins at me and the tug of the ticking time clock blares that my moment is coming and if I don't act quickly, I'll miss my chance.
But when the hotel worker notices that someone else is in the room, their head snaps up, their eyes locking onto mine—eyes that have stared at me far too many times to be mistaken for anyone else's.
Archer's brows pinch together, genuine concern and surprise lining every beautiful inch of his face.
Joe takes far too long to realize it's Archer, but it doesn't matter, because my arms move, pointing the gun in my grasp right at Joe's fucking chest.
"Sit the fuck down," I blurt out and rush toward him, my grip trembling.
Joe laughs and lowers himself onto the couch, throwing his arm over the back of it. He doesn't seem the slightest bit concerned, and that alone concerns me. How can he be so cocky when I'm training a loaded gun right at him?
"London, put the gun down," Archer tells me.
I shake my head. "No." Tears well in my eyes because there's no way out of this, no way that I won't kill Joe Vito with Archer witnessing my betrayal. I was supposed to do this myself, not have him here to see it.
"London," Archer says again.
"Stop," I yell. "You're not going to talk me out of this. You weren't supposed to be here. Why are you? Did you follow me? I told you to stop stalking me." I don't know why I'm blurting out words instead of shooting, but I am, and I know once I pull the trigger, there won't be time for questions, because I'll have to get out of here before Archer kills me for ruining his life.
"I wasn't following you, London. I came here to talk to Vito myself."
I blink a few times, the tears in my eyes clouding my vision. "That doesn't make sense." None of this makes sense. But it doesn't matter. "I don't care why you're here," I tell him. "I have to do this, Archer. You don't understand. I won't live like this. I can't do it again."
Joe tilts his head as if he's trying to comprehend what I'm saying. "So let me get this straight. Archer didn't know you were here, and you didn't know he was coming." His brows perk up and he nods. "Great communication you two have there." He licks his gross lips. "Archer came here to talk, and you came here to what, shoot me? Oh, sweetheart, you and I both know you're not going to do that. And neither is Archer, so whatever your grand plan is, you should give up without making things worse."
"No." I sniffle and inch closer, Archer moving in my peripheral.
"London. Please. Just give me the gun. You don't want to do this."
"I do. I have to do this, Archer." His name on my tongue is like acid burning me to my core. I don't want to hurt him, but I have to, it's the only way out of this for me. "I'm sorry."
"After everything we've been through, you're really going to go through with this?" Archer's voice breaks and I feel the defeat in his every word deep in my bones. "I thought we had something special, London."
"Listen to him, London girl," Joe says plainly. "Do you want him to suffer because of your actions? Do you want Archer and his entire family to lose everything, including their lives?"
My heart pounds wildly and I keep my aim on Joe, who sits there, not bothered at all, and that only infuriates me more that he thinks he's going to get away with this, that he's so fucking sure I won't kill him.
Archer moves closer and I ache to close the distance and fall into his arms, to apologize profusely for even considering doing this to him, but I can't. I have to see this through, I have to.
"Don't do this, little tornado," Archer speaks low, almost a whisper.
I steady my finger on the trigger and stiffen my grasp on the gun. I look directly into Joe's eyes, eyes that I never want to see again for as long as I live, even if that's a short while.
But the only thing I can think about is Archer this morning telling me he loved me. It might have been a fever dream, and yet it felt real, so real that it weaved its way around my heart and swallowed me whole.
And the next thing I know, I'm lowering the gun and wiping the tear that rolls down my cheek, because as much as I want to, I cannot betray Archer, not when he's the only person on the planet that I've ever truly cared for, that I've ever actually loved.
Archer moves fast, snatching the gun out of my hand and pushing me away from Joe. "What were you thinking?" He shakes his head and I realize the damage has already been done. I might not have gone through with it but I've hurt Archer in a way I can never come back from.
"'Bout time you got control over that bitch," Joe spits out from his spot on the couch, crossing one leg over the other.
"The fuck did you just say?" Archer turns toward him, the gun slack against his side, still pressed in his grip.
"Don't get all feminist on me, Arch. You and I both know she's only good for one thing." Joe coughs, phlegm rattling in his chest. "Why don't you grab a drink and we can talk about it?" He nods his head toward me. "We'll put this bitch in the bedroom where she belongs. Don't worry, we can take turns. I’ll go first. I'm sure she won't mind."
I recoil, slinking back slowly against the wall, the weight of his words too heavy to bear, my hatred growing for him with each passing second. I regret not pulling the trigger while I had the chance, and now I've lost it forever. I've lost myself forever.
Archer's arm moves and the entire room and everything in it is engulfed in a slow-motion picture playing out in front of me. He trains the gun on Joe and pulls the trigger before either of us has a chance to react, the bullet going straight through Joe's stomach and another through his chest. Archer shoots again in Joe's torso and I clamp my hands over my mouth to suppress the scream that escapes me, not because of Joe being shot, but because I wasn't the one to do it.
Joe gurgles up blood with his eyes wide and heavy, the realization that he was in danger all along hitting him. "You're going to pay," he struggles to get out. "You're going to?—"
But Archer doesn't let him get his last word out, because he shoots Joe one final time, straight through his forehead, Joe's body slamming back and coming to an abrupt stop, lifeless and bleeding out.
I can't control the tears as they roll down my cheeks and I look from Joe to Archer, his back to me, everything about him stiff and threatening. I want to move, to go to him, but I can't. I'm frozen in place.
"Archer," I mutter. "What have you done?"