Chapter 12 — Youre In Too Deep #2
I parked the car a block away, in deep shadow. I didn’t want to draw attention. A luxury car in this neighborhood was an invitation for vandalism, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with street thieves today.
I took the stairs. The elevator was out of service, with an “Under Maintenance” sign that looked like it had been there since the nineties.
Fourth floor. Apartment 402.
I stopped in the hallway. The ceiling light flickered on and off, creating a strobe effect that made my headache worse.
I heard a sound from inside the apartment.
Footsteps. And a voice.
Not her voice. A man’s voice.
My blood froze, then boiled.
Thomas.
It was her brother’s whiny, drawling voice.
“...I just need a place to crash for a few days, El. The cops showed up at my old address this morning. They’re circling.”
I moved closer to the door, pressing my ear against the thin, cheap wood.
Elena’s voice came back, low and tense.
“You can’t stay here, Thomas. It’s the first place they’ll look if they decide to pick you up.”
“But your boss... he said he fixed it, didn’t he? That Moretti guy. You said he made the partner resign. If he’s got that much power, why am I still scared?”
There was a pause. I could imagine the expression on Elena’s face. The conflict between protecting her brother and the reality of what that protection was costing her.
“He fixed the legal part, Thomas. But that doesn’t mean we’re safe. And it doesn’t mean you can just show up here and act like nothing happened.”
“Come on, Elena! You’re acting weird. You’re shaking. And what’s that on your neck? Why are you wearing a turtleneck indoors?”
The sound of fabric being pulled. A muffled cry from her.
“Get your hands off me!”
A protective instinct exploded in my chest. My hand went to the doorknob. It was locked. Of course it was locked.
But before I could kick the door—and I was going to kick it—Thomas’s voice changed. It went cold. Malicious.
“Damn... is that a bite mark? Who did that? Don’t tell me it was the lawyer. Are you sleeping with him? Is that how you’re paying for my defense? On your knees?”
The sound of a slap cracked through the air. Loud. Clear.
“Get out of here, Thomas. Now.”
“You’re a bitch, Elena. Just like Mom. Always selling yourself to the guy with the fattest wallet and pretending it’s sacrifice.”
I didn’t wait any longer.
I didn’t use the master key in my pocket. I didn’t use subtlety.
I stepped back and kicked the door just below the lock. The rotten wood gave way with a crash, the frame splintering inward.
The door flew open.
Thomas was in the middle of the room, holding his face where Elena had hit him. Elena was pressed against the kitchen wall, holding a bread knife, her eyes wide with terror.
When they saw me, time stopped.
I was soaked from the rain. My right hand was bleeding again where the makeshift bandage had failed. My eyes must have been radiating murder, because Thomas backed up so fast he tripped over the coffee table and fell onto the couch.
“Gabriel...” Elena whispered, lowering the knife.
I stepped into the apartment, closing the broken door behind me as best I could, creating a flimsy barrier against the world.
I walked straight toward Thomas.
He tried to get up, stammering.
“Mr. Moretti! I... I didn’t know you were coming! I was just...”
I grabbed him by the front of his cheap denim jacket and hauled him off the couch, slamming him against the wall hard enough to knock a picture frame to the floor.
“You have five seconds,” I growled, my face inches from his. “Five seconds to give me a reason not to throw you out that fourth-floor window.”
“I’m her brother!” he shouted, the smell of beer and fear pouring off him.
“That’s not a free pass. It’s the only reason you’re still breathing.” I pressed the jacket fabric against his throat, cutting off his air. “You called your sister a bitch.”
“It was... it was just talk! I was nervous!”
“She saved your life today, you ungrateful piece of shit.” I released him with disgust, letting him slide down the wall to the floor. “She put herself in the line of fire of a man you can't even imagine, to clean up the mess you made. And you have the audacity to come here and insult her?”
Thomas was gasping, clutching his neck, looking at me with absolute terror.
I turned to Elena.
She was still leaning against the kitchen counter. The knife was on the table now. She looked at me with a mixture of shock and... relief?
But then her eyes fell to my bleeding hand. And rose to my face.
“You came,” she said. It wasn't a question.
“I came.”
“Why?”
“Because you have something that's mine.”
Thomas looked from me to her, slow, horrified comprehension dawning on his stupid face.
“You two... is it true?” he whispered. “Are you together?”
I ignored him. I walked to Elena.
“The device,” I demanded, extending my hand. “Where is it?”
She didn't move. She didn't reach for her purse. She just held my gaze, that suicidal stubbornness shining in her brown irises.
“It's safe,” she replied.
“Elena. Don't play games with me. Not now.”
“I'm not playing games. It's safe. And it will stay safe, as long as we are safe.”
She was negotiating. With me. In front of her brother. After I'd kicked down her door to save her (again).
I should have been furious. But the admiration I'd felt in the office returned, stronger.
I looked at Thomas, who was still on the floor, trying to become invisible.
“Get up,” I ordered.
He obeyed instantly, trembling.
“Get out of town. Go to the Blue Horizon motel at exit 4. Pay cash. Don't use your cell phone. I'll send someone to pick you up in 48 hours with new documents.”
“New... documents?” Thomas blinked.
“You're a target, idiot. Richard may have left, but he has friends. If you stay here, you die. And if you die, your sister suffers. And I won't allow her to suffer more than necessary. Now get out.”
Thomas looked at Elena. She nodded, weary.
“Go, Thomas. Do what he says.”
He grabbed his backpack and ran for the door, swerving around me like I was radioactive. I heard his footsteps running down the stairs.
We were alone.
The apartment was silent except for the sound of rain coming through the broken door.
“You broke down my door,” Elena said, her voice neutral.
“You didn't answer your phone.”
“I was busy being insulted by my family.”
I took a step toward her. She didn't back away.
“You stole from me, Elena.”
“I took out insurance. You said it yourself: trust is a debt no one should pay. I decided not to pay.”
“Did you listen to it?” The question came out lower, vulnerable.
She shook her head.
“No. Not yet.”
I released the breath I didn't know I was holding.
“Give it to me. Please.”
The “please” was a concession. A white flag.
Elena reached into her pants pocket. She pulled out the small black button.
She looked at the object in her palm, then at me.
“If I give you this... I lose my leverage. I go back to being just the translator you can fire or fuck whenever you feel like it.”
“No,” I said, and the truth of the word vibrated in my bones. “You'll never be just the translator again. You know that. I know that.”
“Then what am I?”
I took her hand, but I didn't take the device. Instead, I laced my fingers through hers, closing her hand over the secret, trapping it between our palms.
I felt her pulse racing against mine.
“You're the problem I can't solve,” I whispered. “And you're in too deep to get out now.”
I pulled her to me. This time, there was no resistance. She collided against my rain-soaked chest, and I buried my face in her neck, inhaling the scent of lavender and fear that had become my oxygen.
“I won’t send you away again,” I promised against her skin. “Even though I should. Even though it’ll destroy us.”
“Gabriel…” she sighed, her hands rising to grip my wet shoulders.
“Keep the device,” I said, lifting my head to look into her eyes. “Keep it. If I try to hurt you again… use it. Destroy me.”
Her eyes widened.
“Are you serious?”
“It’s the only guarantee I can give you.” I kissed her forehead, a gesture of tenderness that felt strange and new. “Now get your things. You can’t stay here with a broken door.”
“Where are we going?”
“Where we should have gone from the beginning. Home.”
She didn’t ask which home. She knew.
While she went to the bedroom to get her suitcase, I stared at the apartment’s shattered door.
I had broken down the door to chaos.
But now, looking at Elena, I realized that chaos wasn’t something that came from outside. Chaos was what happened when the two of us were in the same room.
And I was ready to live in it.