CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Julia raised on tiptoe to kiss Conor.
“You be careful,” she said.
“I’ll take care of him. No worries,” Mickey said, smiling and looking at his watch. “C’mon, Conor. Those paintings are waiting for us.”
Julia closed her eyes, enjoying Conor’s soft kiss. His rough hands held her face. He whispered, “I’ll be back in no time, babe. No worries.”
Then he was gone. She watched the door close and turned to Angel, standing in the middle of the garage with his arms crossed.
“They’re going to be okay, right?” she said.
Angel nodded. He walked over and hugged her. He smelled good. His chest rumbled as he talked.
“By tonight, you and Conor will be a hundred grand richer. And if something goes wrong, Conor will drop everything and get out. The worst outcome is him coming back empty-handed.”
“I’m holding you to that,” she said.
“Fair enough,” said Angel. He grabbed her hand. “But you have to do something for me.”
She followed him to his office and watched him log on to his computer.
“I’ve taken care of everything for the paintings. Transport to Europe. Certificates of authenticity. Provenance. It’s all squared away,” he said, opening his browser.
Julia shook her head. “Are you talking English?”
He laughed, typing in a web address. The login page for a bank appeared.
He grabbed a pen and wrote on a notepad.
He ripped the paper out of the pad, folded it, and handed it to her.
“I’ve taken care of everything. But I need you to be my backup on this bank account.
It’s where the buyer is going to deposit our money. ”
Julia unfolded the paper Angel had given her.
“That’s the login and password. Memorize it, just in case,” Angel said.
“In case what?”
“In case something happens. If I’m not here, you’ll need to give the buyer the account numbers and confirm the deposit. I learned a long time ago that it’s better to be prepared for anything.”
She looked at the paper and smiled. “This is your username and password? You’re kidding, right?”
Angel looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Do you have it memorized?”
“I’ll never forget it,” she said laughing.
He grabbed the paper, pulled out a lighter, and put flame to paper.
Julia stood and kissed Angel’s cheek. He dropped the burning paper in an ashtray.
“You’re such a good guy,” she said.
Angel pointed at her, eyes narrowing. “No one ever knows that username or password.”
Julia drew an X on her chest. “Cross my heart.”
Angel shut down his computer and stood. “All the money—not half or three-quarters or almost all—all of it has to be deposited before the paintings are handed over to the dealer’s associate tomorrow morning.
He’ll be here at six a.m.” He stared at her.
“If I’m not here, I’m trusting you to make sure he doesn’t get the paintings until every cent of our money is in the account. Got it?”
She nodded and then followed him out of the office into the garage.
Angel walked around the garage, picking up tools and putting them away.
Then he grabbed a broom and started sweeping a floor that looked as clean as polished marble.
He was an interesting guy. Looked mean as a pit bull but had a big heart. She walked over and grabbed his hand.
“What are you doing today?” she said.
Angel shrugged. “You’re looking at it. We’re staying put and waiting for Conor and Mickey.”
“Do you know Conor’s friend, Sully?”
“Absolutely. He worked for me,” said Angel. “Good kid. Too bad he ended up in a coma.”
Julia took the broom out of his hand, propped it against the wall, and then walked toward the motorcycle parked in the garage. She sat on the bike and patted the seat. “Get on. I need you to take me somewhere.”
Angel raised his eyebrows. “If you say so.” He opened a bay door and straddled the seat in front of Julia, letting her wrap her arms around him. He rolled through the open door and kickstarted the bike.
“Which way?” he yelled.
“The hospital,” Julia yelled back, tucking her face against Angel’s back.
Angel rode out into the street and punched through the gears. The wind blasted Julia’s face. She grinned. This was gonna be good. Angel was going to bust when he saw Sully was awake.
* * *
They parked in the hospital’s front lot.
Julia jumped off the bike and led the way into the hospital.
She grabbed Angel’s hand and pulled him along.
She couldn’t stop smiling. The ride over had been a blast. Everyone had stared at them.
Angel was a bad ass, riding his bike with a curvy young girl hanging onto him.
And everyone, except for some big weirdo with a bloody nose who shouldered past them at the nurses’ station, looked at Angel with equal amounts of fear and respect.
The nurse shook her head in disgust as the weirdo shoved by a woman helping an elderly man onto the elevator, and then waved Julia and Angel through, even though visitor hours hadn’t started yet.
Yeah, Angel was a bad ass. But she knew there was another side to him.
She reached for the door to Sully’s room and pulled it open.
After seeing Angel’s username and password, she knew he—
Angel pushed by her. All her strength vanished. She gripped the doorknob to stay upright. Angel jumped on the bed. He grabbed Sully around the waist, lifting him.
“Help me,” he yelled. “Untie him.”
Julia stepped up onto the bed, working to untie the bandage around Sully’s neck.
His face was blue. His tongue was blue. She struggled with the knot.
A shiver ran through her. His skin was cool like clay.
The knot came loose. She pulled the bandage off Sully’s neck.
Angel lowered him to the bed and began doing mouth-to-mouth, then started chest compressions.
“Get a doctor or a nurse,” Angel said between pushes on Sully’s chest.
She stepped off the bed, watching.
“I said get somebody,” said Angel, his eyes darkening.
Julia shook her head. “It won’t help.”
Angel pushed on Sully’s chest again.
Julia grabbed Angel’s hands. “He’s gone, Angel. He’s dead.”
Angel stared at Sully. He got off the bed and backed up, bumping into a chair.
He turned and kicked the chair over. The elastic band holding his ponytail came loose.
His long black hair fell over his shoulders and shimmered around his face.
His eyes were wet, but he didn’t cry. Julia could see his anger building.
“Why did he do this?” he said, looking at Julia.
Julia was dumbstruck. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she said, bending down to pick up Angel’s hair band. “He was fine yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” said Angel.
“He came out of his coma. Me and Conor talked to him.”
“Conor brought you here?” said Angel. “I told him not to... ah hell.” He stomped over to the bed and looked down at Sully. “Why’d you do this?”
“What’s that?” said Julia, walking over. “There’s something under him.” She grabbed Sully by his shoulders and hoisted him into a sitting position. “Grab it,” she said.
Angel pulled a yellow sheet of legal paper out from under Sully.
Julia lowered Sully back onto the bed. She watched a change come over Angel as he read the paper. A light of realization filled his eyes. Then he folded the paper, stuck it in his pocket, laid his hand on Sully’s head, and said, “Sorry.” He closed Sully’s eyes. “You rest in peace, brother.”
“What did that note say?” Julia asked.
Angel walked around the bed. He pushed the call button for the nurse and grabbed Julia’s arm, pulling her out of the room.
He whispered, “Just keep walking,” as he led Julia to the elevator.
A doctor rode down in the elevator with them, keeping Julia quiet, but once they got to the ground floor, she talked as she followed Angel.
“Are you going to tell me what the note said?” she asked breathlessly, breaking into a half jog to keep up with him.
“Sully didn’t hang himself,” said Angel, his face a blank mask. “Someone else did.”
“Who?” asked Julia, barely getting on the motorcycle before Angel fired it up. She clasped her hands around his stomach. He put the bike in gear, tearing out of the parking lot.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Angel over the roar of the motorcycle. “I’ll take care of it.”
Julia hung on. Angel moved like a statue brought to life. Turning the handlebars when they needed turning. Putting his feet down when they stopped. Shifting through the gears as he raced through the streets. But something inside him was frozen. Julia could tell he was on autopilot.
He pulled around to the back of his garage and eased the bike to a stop. It would be a stretch to say Angel was scared, but whatever was on his mind, Julia could see it had him freaked.
“Get off,” he said. “I have to take care of something.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said, locking her hands around his chest.
“You can’t. Get off.”
She got off. “Wait,” she said, grabbing Angel’s arm. She reached in her pocket and pulled out his elastic hair tie. She pulled his hair back into a ponytail, banded it, and backed away. “When are you coming back?” she asked.
“Soon,” said Angel. “Just wait inside, and don’t open the door for anyone but Conor or his dad.” He held out his hand. She grabbed it.
“Conor is lucky he found you,” he said. Then his hand slipped away, his motorcycle roared, and he was gone.
Julia went inside the garage, made sure every door was locked, and then went into the lobby. She sat on a stool. Slivers of sunlight squeezed through the slats of the window blinds. She stared at the blinds and waited.
Hours crawled by. She never took her eyes off the window. Her stomach was growling and she had to pee when she heard someone drive into the parking lot.
Whoever it was, he came in too fast, rubber squealing, followed by the sound of a metal-on-metal collision.
Pieces and parts rattled over asphalt. Julia ran over to the blinds, peering through to the parking lot.
She unlocked the front door and ran toward Conor’s father, lying half in and half out of Angel’s wrecked Camaro.
The car was still idling with its bumper wrapped around a streetlamp. Steam billowed from under the hood.
She knelt next to him. “Are you okay?” she said.
Not getting a reply, she reached in the car to pull his legs out.
Mickey mumbled gibberish. She looked around.
The street and sidewalk were empty. Grabbing him by the shoulders, she dragged him out of the car and laid him on the asphalt.
Then she stepped over him toward the car.
An empty vodka bottle lay in the seat. She tossed it out, slid into the driver’s seat of the wrecked car, and put it in reverse.
There was a terrible screeching sound as she backed up with one end of the bumper scraping the asphalt.
It made a horrible racket as she pulled into a parking space.
She got out of the car and looked at Mickey.
He turned on his side and puked. His hand touched the empty bottle of vodka she threw out of the car.
It rolled away from him, clinking across the parking lot.
If he drank all that, he needed to be in the hospital.
But she couldn’t take him. She had to wait for Conor and Angel.
The best he’d get was the couch inside Angel’s office.
She walked toward Mickey, not sure if he could stand, let alone walk. If not, she would need help carrying him inside. But, like most things in her life, she knew there would be no help.
She touched Mickey’s shoulder. He let out a full-throated moan.
The smell of alcohol and vomit hit Julia in a blinding wave, making her eyes water.
She stepped back and covered her nose to block the smell.
Yeah, this was familiar. She’d seen this too many times in her life.
Something bad had happened. Things had taken a turn.
And even though she was trying her level best to keep bad thoughts at bay, she knew.
She looked at the smashed car, steam rising from under its hood.
The vodka bottle lying in a puddle of vomit.
Mickey moaning, his eyes rolled back in their sockets.
She kneeled next to Mickey and hung her head. She knew.
Her dreams of building a new life with Conor were somewhere out there in the night, drawing their last shuddering breath.