Chapter 10
TEN
CRICKET
I spin the tiny oval purple pill on the bar table. Technically, it’s a pain pill. Actually, it’s a “buy yourself more time” pill. Just one of many assassin necessities. You could be bleeding out from a stab wound, and this tiny pill could help you finish a marathon with the knife still in your back. Pain slows you down. This purple pill takes it all away.
There’s just one rule: never take these with alcohol. It’ll rock your fucking world.
So, naturally, I pop the pill in my mouth, and slam back one more martini. Sue me. I need something stronger. Alcohol isn’t going to make me forget. Let’s see if this little pill can heal a broken heart.
I’ve already downed four martinis, and even though my vision is slightly blurred, I see clear as crystal when I shut my eyes. My lids close, and I see Pappa’s face. But I don’t see his smile. Instead, his face morphs into the devil’s as he orders his henchman to run my mother off the road, over the bridge, and plunge to her death.
It was raining that night. They said she slipped right off the road.
Lies. Such easy fucking lies for a twelve-year-old to gobble up.
Burn in hell, Pappa.
“Ollie?” I ask as I pass by the bar. I stumble and bang my knee on a barstool. Shit. I’m more drunk than I realized. I’m good at keeping my head when intoxicated. My coordination is a little lacking, though. “I need my tab.”
She looks tired. Showing me a sleepy smile, she waves me off. “Already taken care of.”
“Vesper?” I ask.
Ollie scrunches her nose and subtly points to the end of the bar. The men who sent me the cosmopolitan are still perched on their stools.
“The whole tab?” I ask.
She holds up her hands. “I told them you weren’t interested.”
“Get home and put your feet up, love. Don’t keep that sweet baby up too long.”
“Thank you,” Ollie mouths.
I pull out my wallet as I make my way to the corner of the bar where the two men are sitting. I freeze when my fingers rub over the inscription in the leather. LM. Levi Moore. I forgot I was still using this thing. A keepsake Lance gave me years ago. It’s the only item he kept from his past. He gave it to me like it was nothing, but for the past five years, he’d always have that crooked smile on his face whenever he saw me with it. The conversation was always the same.
“Still carrying that raggedy ol’ thing, C?”
“Yup. Does the job.”
We’d both pretend like it wasn’t as significant as wearing an athlete’s jersey and showcasing his number. I was Lance’s long before he told me he loved me.
And now we’re…
I shake my head, forcing the thought from my mind. I don’t want to think about it. It’s fine. I’ll just get a new wallet.
I fish out a one-hundred-dollar bill and place it between the two men dressed in suits. “Please don’t waste your money. I’m not available.”
The larger man with bloodshot eyes and black hair wraps his pitcher mitt of a hand around mine and holds it up. He examines my empty ring finger. “You look pretty available to me. Boyfriends don’t intimidate me.”
I glare at his hand. “Let me go.”
He drops it immediately, but glares at me with his beady eyes that look too small for his head.
“Stauch,” the smaller blond man says, “you’re being rude.” He looks mousey and nervous. His cheeks are flushed red. “Sorry, miss. My business partner meant it as a compliment. But please keep your money.”
“Fine. Then use it to tip Ollie.” Leaving the bill between them, I take a step backward, pivot, and head toward the lounge entrance. If I wasn’t so inebriated, I probably could’ve sensed that devilish eyes were on me. It’s not until I’m through the door and around the corner of the building that I realize I have a shadow.
I’m really not in the mood for this tonight. It’s raining heavily. The globs of water falling from the sky make loud, angry splashes against the asphalt. I pretend like I don’t hear him stomping angrily behind me. Acting like a deer walking into a lion’s trap, I wander down the empty, dark alleyway behind Martinis.
“You know, I’m so sick of little cunts like you.”
I turn around just in time to watch him try to puff up like a bear. He pauses about ten feet away from me. We’re both at the mercy of the rain, getting drenched, but neither of us seems bothered.
“Humor me,” I shout over the pattering sound. “Why exactly am I a little cunt? I gave your money back.”
“You put your tits on display with that low-cut, skintight shirt. You’ve been making eyes at me all night. You’re the kind of bitch who likes to watch a grown man squirm, aren’t you?”
I glance down at my shirt to remind myself what I wore out—a dingy black, cap-sleeve T-shirt paired with dark gray cargo pants. I’d hardly call this sexy attire. “I assure you I was not making eyes at you. But I promise, if you take another step toward me, you will be squirming...from pain.” I touch my back pocket, ensuring my pocketknife is within reach. My pistol is wrapped around my calf, but I’d prefer to make this messy. Rain washes all the blood away.
“That’s big talk coming from such a little bitch.” He spits over his shoulder and takes another few steps. “I bet that pussy’s tight. Let’s find out.”
“Nope. Wrong. I’m wider than the Holland Tunnel, buddy. Believe me when I say I’ve got nothing for you. So, walk the fuck away. ”
“Oh, look at that,” he snarls, taking another step forward. “Looks like it’s just you, me, and a dead end, sweetheart.” I look over my shoulder at the brick wall behind me, but it’s not a dead end. The alley splits in two directions.
I point in the direction that leads to the overflow parking lot. “Dead end? Are you that drunk or just stupid?”
He smiles with a sinister expression. “Then why don’t you run?”
It’s because he has no idea who he’s fucking with. He chose the wrong victim tonight. I don’t run. “I think I’d rather kill you,” I reply.
“What the hell did you just say?” His next step is a little smaller. He must be surprised by my response. I still hold my ground even though he’s only about five feet away now.
My head starts to pound, and my stomach lurches. Four filthy martinis, and Ollie has a generous pour. That’s about equivalent to eight shots, meaning, I need a bed, some bread to mop up the liquor, and for this piece of shit to get out of my way. This is no longer entertaining.
“I’m about to teach you what little cock teases deserve.”
I roll my eyes. “While I’m intrigued to know what that lesson entails,” I snark, “I need to warn you first.”
“Warn me of what?” he bites out.
“On a good day, I’m a killer. On a bad day, I’m a savage. And you, sir, have caught me on a terrible day.”
He laughs at me like he’s watching a puppy trying to act ferocious. “And what are you on a terrible day?” He puckers his bottom lip to taunt me.
“Fucking bloodthirsty.”
I picture how any other woman would feel right now. Probably dread. It makes my skin crawl. How many women has this man cornered that didn’t know how to kill him with their bare hands?
I yank my pocketknife out of my back pocket and extend the blade. “But go ahead, you prick. Make my night.”
I’m almost certain he’s actually going to charge me until another figure steps around the building. It strides toward us purposefully. At first, I think it’s his business partner from the bar, until I realize how tall he is.
Of fucking course…because this night can’t get any worse.
Lance doesn’t say a word before striking the man behind the head with the butt of his gun. The man falters backward, and Lance catches him, then wraps his forearm tightly around his neck. It takes about eight seconds until the man goes limp. Lance releases him and watches him drop to the ground.
He steps around the unconscious heap on the ground but pauses a few feet away from me, as if he needs permission to get any closer. “You okay, C?” Lance asks.
“Well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armor,” I mutter bitterly, folding the blade of my knife and tucking it back in my pocket. “Who invited you? Certainly wasn’t me.”
Lance ducks his head, looking at the ground. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Fuck off. I could’ve handled it.”
He lets out a sharp exhale and smooths back his hair, which looks five shades darker soaked in the rain. “And watch you make yet another big mess? Why is your go-to always a knife?”
“And why is your go-to a Vulcan nerve pinch like a little chickenshit?”
“Aha!” Lance shouts, pointing right at my chest. “ You finally watched it.”
“Watched what?”
“ Star Trek ,” he explains. “How else would you know what a Vulcan nerve pinch is?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He closes the space between us. “If you watched something from the list, maybe that means you were missing me almost as much as I was missing you.” He reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I step backward.
“Not even a little bit.” I lie.
His expression fills with pain as he realizes there’s no changing my icy demeanor. “Well then, what’d you think? Did you just watch Star Trek? Or did you continue on to Star Trek Into Darkness ?” He holds up his hands. “Sidebar—don’t bother with Star Trek Beyond. It really loses its legs.” Lance smiles.
It’s good to see his smile.
I missed him. I missed him so much, in fact, that this past week or so that I’ve been trying to remove Lance from my life like a bad tumor, I watched at least seven movies on the list he made for me. Shawshank Redemption. Braveheart. Forrest Gump. Multiple Rocky movies. And last but not least, Star Trek.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a well-known pop culture reference. I didn’t watch anything, so as usual, you’re rambling.” It’s petty, but I don’t want to admit the truth.
I want to hurt him…
Because he hurt me.
Lance betrayed me, and it’s burning me up from the inside out. He chose Vesper when he should’ve chosen me. He chose PALADIN over a future with me. In fact, it’s Lance’s fault this unraveled. Twenty-four hours ago, my pappa was a hero. Now? I’m the daughter of a power-obsessed sadistic fuck I can’t even confront.
The rain is still pouring so hard, all I’d have to do is tilt my head up to drown. They say it’s euphoric right before you drown to death. I always comforted myself thinking that’s how Mom went. Her car sank to the bottom of that lake, and the last thing she knew was euphoria.
But come to think of it, I never saw her body.
It was a closed-casket funeral, and then Pappa ordered her ashes to sit on the mantel.
I will never ever know what he had done to her. It probably wasn’t merciful at all. The last thing she experienced was likely fear…dread…pain. I shut my eyes and see her wide, green eyes, filled with terror. I hear her whispering my name. I wonder if I was her last thought. I loved my mama so much.
I grab my chest as I start to hyperventilate. Likely, it’s the aftermath of the pill I took. Fuck, it’s too strong. The effects of the alcohol exasperate everything—including the grief. I let it consume me. The brick walls of the buildings surrounding me start to wiggle like Jell-O, and everything spins.
A heavy dark fog takes over, and the last thing I see before I collapse is Lance’s face mere inches from mine.
“I’ve got you, C. Hang on to me, baby. I’ve got you.”
LANCE
Cricket can hold her liquor better than a three-hundred-pound grown man. I bet her blacking out has less to do with the drinks, and more to do with an emotional upheaval. I’m sure she wouldn’t like me touching her, but I’m not about to leave her in a dark alleyway with the crumpled-up piece of shit I knocked out.
I wrap Cricket’s arm around me. She’s conscious enough to sort of keep a grip around the back of my neck.
“Okay, C. Up we go.”
I scoop her up with ease, one arm around her shoulders, the other underneath her thighs. Cricket’s dense. She looks little, but she’s five feet, five inches of solid muscle. The only thing that wiggles on her is her full tits. She’s strong. She can take care of herself. And she most definitely would not like being held like a baby. As I carry her out of the alley, I’m half expecting her to leap out of my arms and point a gun in my face.
Instead, she nuzzles into me as her hand slackens and falls from my neck. She places her palm flat against my chest. Maybe this is how it has to be moving forward—Cricket drunk out of her mind. Then, she’ll talk to me and won’t fight it when I carry her.
We pass the front of the bar where I parked when a man in a suit busts through the front doors of Martinis. His gaze goes from me to Cricket in my arms.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasps out. “Did he—”
I clue in immediately to who he’s looking for. “Your friend is taking a nap in the alleyway.”
His cheeks flush. “I…I’m calling the cops,” he says.
I shoot him a dangerous look. “Be my guest.”
“No, no,” he blubbers as his eyes widen. “Not on you. On Stauch. He’s been such a mess lately. Screwing around with drugs…he’s so angry and aggressive…starting to lose his damn mind. Did he…” He points to Cricket. “Is she okay?”
“You’re lucky I found them.” I lift my brows at him. “Or your friend would be dead. She’s the wrong woman to corner.”
He looks confused. “She’s just a girl. Stauch could’ve really hurt her. I… I shouldn’t have turned my back and let this happen. She’ll probably be traumatized for life.”
“You’re wrong. She’s a lioness. She’s only like this…with me.” A pang of guilt washes over me as I finish my sentence. Cricket’s always been vulnerable and honest with me. A secret covenant between the two of us. Whether we were best friends or lovers—it was us against the entire fucking world. And I wrecked everything by running to Vesper.
Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to save her life. Cricket could’ve probably saved herself.
I clamp my eyes shut. “Listen to me. Your shit stain of a friend is going to wake up in a few minutes. You’re going to tell him that he hallucinated the entire situation, then, you’re going to forget our faces.”
“You don’t want me to call the cops?”
“On what? We weren’t here.” I give him a pointed look. “But mark my words, he will be watched, and we won’t give him a second chance. The next time he threatens my girl, or any woman for that matter, he’ll be explaining himself to his maker.”
The man nods eagerly. “He emptied our business account and got in bed with dealers. That’s what I was confronting him about tonight. He needs rehab. I’ll handle it.” He steps around me and heads to the alleyway.
“Hey!” I call over my shoulder, making him halt. “The next time you see a man leave a bar, stalking a woman, have the fucking balls to intervene. Got it?”
There are way too many monsters out there. I can’t handle them all.
He nods again and disappears behind the building.
I look down at Cricket and wiggle my elbow, trying to get her attention. “Cricket, I’m not going to let you be alone tonight. You can hate me all you want, but I’m taking you home.”
She strains to hold her eyes open. There’s a sadness I’ve never seen before. My Cricket is full of strength and quick wit. She doesn’t flinch when she bleeds. She doesn’t complain when she’s in pain. Cricket is the most ferocious woman I know, and yet right now…
It’s the first time I’ve seen her so weak.
“I do hate you,” she murmurs, as I usher her into the passenger seat of my car. I even go as far as buckling her in.
When I settle into the driver’s seat, I flick the windshield wipers on and put the car in reverse. But I don’t drive. Keeping my foot planted on the brake pedal, I turn my head to Cricket, watching her reflection in the window.
“C, how long are you going to be mad at me?”
She rests her head on the window, watching the rain. “Forever,” she murmurs.
“Mmk,” I say with a heavy exhale. “Good to know.”