34
Christian
We spent that week fucking each other until I didn’t think I had it in me to keep going, but we just kept at it because I was absolutely and utterly addicted to Maeve.
The next week passed, and Maeve let me pick the girls up from school before leaving for my Tuesday morning trip.
Waking up to Maeve in my bed was also something that I was addicted to. The way her hair splayed out on the pillows, the way she whimpered just as she fell into a deep sleep, and the way she curled her body around mine.
It was early in the morning, and I gave her a small kiss on the forehead before heading into the girls’ rooms and doing the same.
“Fuck, my phone,” I grumbled as I had made it down the steps to the car. I quickly ran back upstairs, grabbed my real phone from the nightstand, and confirmed I had the burner safely tucked away in my pocket.
“One more kiss,” I whispered to no one in particular and pressed my lips upon hers.
“Mmm, Christian?” she dreamily asked.
“I’m leaving. I’ll be home tonight,” I promised.
“Okay. I love you.” She shifted in her sleep so she was now facing away from me.
She…what?
Holy shit. I needed to remind myself of my coping techniques because I could feel the pressure in my chest. Aside from my ex, I hadn’t heard that word in a long time, and it meant something different between her and me. When Maeve said that to me just now, it felt like my heart had somehow exploded into a hundred pieces, and then, like a puzzle, they found their way back to itself. Fuck, I needed to go, but there was so much more I wanted to say. I didn’t think Maeve was awake or even realized what she had said, but I needed her to know there was so much more to us.
Julian waited for me as I pulled up to his house, and I was already in a piss-poor mood.
“You got everything?” he asked. I confirmed we had our four weapons. I threw Julian a Glock and a Sig Sauer to tuck into his waistband.
I peeled out of his driveway and sped toward the highway.
“Jesus. You fighting with Maeve again?” Julian noticed how irritated I was.
“No,” I responded quite bluntly.
“What has got you all wound up?”
“Shit.” I concentrated on the road ahead.
“Wanna talk about it?” Julian pressed.
“Maeve told me she loved me this morning.” I carefully glanced over at Julian, who was desperately trying to cover up his smile. “She was half sleeping and delirious, but she said it nonetheless, and now I feel all fucking annoyed.”
“Why?”
“Because what if it's true?” I practically screamed out at Julian.
“Yeah, what if it was true? What would the worst-case scenario be?”
“That I fucking love her, too,” I huffed out, and my chest started to heave.
“And that’s a bad thing because…?”
I had to think about it. I had no idea what the answer to that question was.
“It isn’t, I guess. It’s just a…new feeling for me.” I lowered my tone an octave. “I don’t want to fuck this up like I did with my ex.” I was referring to being the drunk asshole that I was.
“You’re a different person than when I even first met you.” I nodded in agreement with Julian.
“Let me get my mind off this fucking thing.” I let off the gas pedal a little as I started to calm down. “Tell me what the plan is again.”
“We are just going to go over to the Irish. Ronan says his name is Patrick. He runs this corner. They mainly need guns, but they owe us money and haven't paid up. Ronan said they should be good for it and just are lazy fuckers, so none of this should be anything hard.” I nodded. The hardest lesson I had to learn was that I needed to prepare before I walked into a mission. I was always trained.
"We'll be prepared for whatever comes our way," I assured him. As we drove, I noticed a dark red car tailing us on the freeway. Reacting quickly, I changed lanes, and the car stopped following.
Julian glanced back. "It's been following us since we left?" he asked, confirming my suspicion. I nodded, and he reassured me, "I'll make sure Maeve is safe back home. You can count on added security."
As the red car passed us, a brief sigh of relief washed over me. I needed to make it home in time for dinner tonight. My priorities had shifted drastically, and now all I wished for was a quiet day.
"I think I need to investigate someone," I finally shared.
"Get James to do it. He's at the house. Anyone I should be aware of?" Julian inquired.
"Not really," I replied. "I believe my sponsor is Maeve's ex’s current husband."
"Oh fuck. You should definitely talk to him first," Julian advised. We fell silent for the rest of the drive to Bakersfield, and the red car I originally thought was following us was nowhere in sight.
We pulled up to an old mechanic garage and both of us looked absolutely out of place. Everyone was dressed in cutoffs and flannel shirts with the sleeves ripped off. Although these were technically Ronan’s men, he had just taken over the organization, so they kind of lived by their own rules.
Just before we got out of the Porsche, Julian and I both confirmed that we had our weapons. I got out first and opened the door for Julian, who walked behind me.
“We are here to talk to Patrick,” I said to a bunch of guys sitting in some plastic folding chairs outside the shop and drinking beer.
“Who's lookin’?” One of the guys working on the car didn’t bother to look up. I could already feel Julian picking the lint off his shoulders. It was something he did when he hated the situation he was in.
“Tell them Mr. Marchetti is here,” I responded to the guy, and I pulled back my hand so if the guy ever felt like looking up, they could see we were having a serious conversation.
“Ronan sent his dogs, did he?” An older guy with salt-and-pepper hair came out from the garage in the same uniform the rest of the guys were wearing.
"Patrick, we've just come to collect," Julian chimed in from behind me, and instantly, I recognized him as the guy we were after. Stepping forward, I approached him, feeling uneasy about conducting our business out in the open under the garage awning. I quickly scanned the surroundings, only recognizing the faces of the guys from the garage.
Taking a mental note, I counted five men in total. Three were older, above forty, while the other two were in their twenties. They all sported the same attire. As we observed, two cars were parked in front of the shop, and each had a guy working on them. We spotted two of them carrying concealed weapons at their waistbands, but no one else seemed to be around, at least as far as we could see.
I scanned the area quickly and noticed it was desolate and deserted. The bleakness of the surroundings was haunting, amplifying the tense atmosphere that hung in the air. The barren landscape offered no solace, as if time had forgotten this abandoned spot.
A sense of isolation permeated the scene, and the silence was broken only by the distant hum of the wind. The absence of passersby or even the most subtle movement intensified the feeling of eerie abandonment.
There was no sign of the red car tailing us earlier. It was as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace. Instead, the two cars parked in front of the garage were the only vehicles in sight. Their dull, weathered exteriors matched the overall dreary ambience. The two younger guys watched us, their expressions guarded and their eyes darting around, assessing the situation.
A sense of anticipation filled the air as we cautiously approached the group, ready to face whatever lay ahead in this hauntingly deserted corner of the world.
I turned quickly and felt Julian reach for one of his guns, and I grabbed my Beretta before approaching Patrick.
“Make this fucking easy. I’m already pissed I drove all the way out to the middle of damn nowhere to collect.”
“Ronan could’ve come and grabbed it.” Patrick huffed. I pulled up my gun and hit this man’s chest with it. I needed to get home, and this guy and his annoyance for us was only pissing me off more.
“Get the money, Patrick,” I hissed at him.
Patrick's condescending remark, "Woof woof," directed at me, was the final straw. My anger surged, and without hesitation, I forcefully pushed him against the wall, pressing the cold metal of my gun to his forehead.
"Give me the motherfucking money you owe us in ten seconds," I seethed, my voice steady but filled with a simmering rage. The younger men with Patrick reacted, rising from their plastic chairs, eyeing the tense standoff unfolding before them.
As seconds ticked by, I couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability in this desolate place. My eyes darted around, scanning for any unexpected threats, but the landscape remained seemingly empty, save for the rustling of palm bushes in the distance.
"Alright, give me a fucking minute to get the cash in the suitcase," Patrick stammered, sensing the urgency in my voice. Julian positioned himself behind me, offering support, but the frustration was evident on his face, too.
"He's useless to us," Julian reassured, acknowledging my frustration. I just wanted this ordeal to end, to collect the owed money, and return home. This whole situation felt like a major inconvenience. A deviation from the initial plan could have been avoided if Patrick had followed instructions in the first place and gotten us the money. Then we could have avoided driving out here.
“You have thirty seconds or less, and if you try to run, I will fucking shoot you in the back and kill every damn person in this shop.” I pushed the barrel toward Patrick, and he scurried off to grab what presumably was the suitcase we had come here for.
As we waited, the younger guys became increasingly less patient and started to circle us. I quickly turned around and pointed my gun up toward them, making the other one holstered at my hip visible.
“Back the fuck up,” I seethed at them.
“Whoa, man.” One of them raised his hands in defense and backed away slowly as Patrick came back into view with a suitcase. He opened it for me, and I quickly counted the cash inside. It was all in there, so I nodded to Julian, who grabbed it and headed to the car.
I paused for a minute, looking back at the eerie mechanic shop in the middle of a nowhere desert. Something felt…off, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it.
“Next time, pay up when it's due because it’s not going to be so pretty having to drive out to god-forsaken nowhere again.” Patrick had the audacity to chuckle, and I gave him one last look before I turned on my heel and jumped into the car, driving back down toward San Diego.
“I gotta wash this cash through my dad’s club, then wire it to Alex ASAP,” Julian told me, and I just nodded. This part of the job wasn’t really what I cared about. I was the muscle of the situation. I knew how to kill, harm, and fuck around with anyone who dared come near us.
Julian started to make a few phone calls. I sped home, realizing this whole thing took longer than I anticipated, and I probably wouldn’t make it home for dinner.
Me: Running late. You ok?
Firecracker: The girls miss you. Everyone here does ;)
Fuckkk. This somehow confirmed what I heard this morning. I knew it was true, but it proved that she probably felt that way even without a dizzy haze. I needed to make just one more phone call because there was just a weird feeling I couldn’t shake. Julian had hung up, so I told him I needed to call someone, and he nodded.
I went through the speaker and called Stephen right away.
“Hey, man.” Stephen picked up on the second ring.
“We are all good, right, brother?” I asked him, trying to stop the nagging feeling I had.
“Yeah. Are you okay?” Stephen asked.
“I’m really good, but I wanted to make sure everything between us was alright?” There was a pause on the other line.
"What is prompting this?" Stephen questioned, sensing an undertone of unease in my voice.
"Nothing, really," I replied, attempting to downplay my concerns. "I just wanted to ensure I wasn't overstepping any boundaries, you know?"
"Never," Stephen reassured, his voice unwavering. "We've always had each other's backs. We made that promise long ago. With no real family to speak of, I consider you a part of mine."
His words struck a chord within me, reminding me of our shared history in the Marine Corps. Stephen's past mirrored mine in many ways, having faced rejection from his family after coming out in high school, leading him to couch-surf until he found solace in the Marine Corps. It was during our time in the military that our bond solidified.
"I agree," I replied, my resolve strengthened. "I just needed to hear that from you." I hung up the phone, feeling quite satisfied with the conversation.
“You still think he’s Tyler's husband?” I sat with Julian's question for a moment before I could respond.
I also believed he could play a crucial role in healing the rift between Tyler and Maeve, and possibly resolving the court case involving Maeve.
"Yeah, I think he's Tyler's husband," I finally answered Julian, "but I sense he might also hold the key to mending Tyler and Maeve's relationship, and help resolve the court case."
Feeling empowered, I knew I had a role to play in facilitating this process. While I could never condone the way Tyler treated Maeve during their marriage, I understood the importance of co-parenting for Maeve's sake.
"I need your help with something," I implored Julian.
"Sure, what is it?" he asked.
"I need you to keep this information between us for now. I must figure out everything for sure before I approach Maeve," I said, urging him to maintain secrecy.
"You've got it," Julian affirmed, nodding in agreement as we sped off. I pushed the speed limit in a race against time to make it home and see Maeve before it grew too late. The anticipation and suspense of uncovering the truth about Stephen and fixing this court case hung in the air, propelling us forward on our mission.