Target on Our Backs
Page 68
It's a sound that's familiar to me.
A gasp for air, a devastated whimper, the sound of Karissa trying her hardest to be strong, but it's not working. I don't hesitate. I head right down those flimsy stairs, down into the darkness, frantic to get to her… to find her… to see her. To let her know it's okay, that she's okay, that we're going to be okay.
I swear it, we will, we'll make it, even if it's the last thing I do.
I'll give her the happiness she deserves.
No more of this grief.
No more of these goddamn tears.
She's huddled in a corner, her knees pulled up, her head down, shielding her face. Hands fist her chaotic hair, clinging to it like her life depends on it, like holding on is what's holding her together. She's rocking and shaking, oblivious to my presence, so lost in her head, so overwhelmed by her heartache, that she didn't even hear me.
I stare at her, for just a second, taking her in as she collapses into herself in the darkness, feeling a deep ache in my chest. Feeling the pain I know she's been feeling. Her heart is broken, but the fucking thing is still beating. Second after second, it continues to keep her alive.
I take a step toward her, then another, before she breaks out of her trance, realizing she's not alone. Her whimpers cease as she inhales sharply, steeling herself like only she can. Her head darts up, piercing, angry eyes cutting through the darkness, seeking out whatever she heard. Her gaze meets mine, and I watch as the rage fades away, melting straight to that goddamn heartbreak.
I hate it.
I hate seeing it.
But fuck, she's beautiful.
Happy. Sad. Angry. Terrified.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She's beautiful because she's strong.
Beautiful because she's fierce.
Beautiful because, even when I hesitated, she didn't.
She fought.
She fought hard.
And goddamn if that's not beautiful to me…
Her mouth moves, but no words greet me.
She's shell-shocked.
She stares at me, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
She's not moving, not even blinking, like maybe I'm just a figment of her imagination and she's afraid the darkness is going to erase me if she surrenders to it.
"I told you," I say quietly. "I'll always come for you."
That does it. That's all she needs.
A cry echoes through the basement as she forces herself to her feet, shoving off of the floor, barely able to stand, let alone walk, but she's strong enough to throw herself at me, knowing good and well I'll never let her fall. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to me, holding her tightly, relishing in her warmth. She's on her tiptoes, clinging to me.
"I thought you were dead," she whispers, her voice cracking around the words.
"Come on," I say, stroking her tangled hair. "You really think I'm that easy to kill?"
She laughs, but it's not a happy sound.
There's nothing funny about any of this.
Footsteps register behind me then, just a moment passing before a harsh overhead light flicks on across the basement. Squinting from the light, I set Karissa on her feet and loosen my hold, but she winces, clutching ahold of me. My instinct is to look at her, my eyes scanning her, alarmed when I see the blood coating her dirty, bare foot. "What happened?"
My question is lost on her as she starts to panic. Her breath quickens, body shaking, as she frantically clings to me, her attention across the room. Shit.
I turn my head, looking right at Lorenzo, his apparent number one little soldier standing guard by his side. The guy looks nervous.
"What happened to her foot?" I ask, motioning toward it, a touch of anger in my voice.
He starts to stammer.
What is it with these guys?
"She, uh... well... she did it to herself."
I look at him incredulously. "She did it to herself."
"Uh, yeah," he says. "She kicked out the car window."
"She kicked out the car window."
"And the glass, it shattered. Cut her, I guess. She was fighting us, you know? Wasn't anything I could do about it. Like I said... she did it to her—"
Before the guy can finish saying 'herself', Lorenzo reacts, reaching into his waistband and pulling out his gun.
BANG
A single shot, right to the temple, lights up the basement. It blows his fucking head apart. The guy drops instantly. Karissa lets out a scream, startled, and I pull her to me tightly, holding her as I glare at Lorenzo. "Was that necessary?"
"Of course," he says, slipping the gun back away. "All I heard was blah blah blah I didn't follow instructions so just kill me already. Why? What did you hear?"
"That you're a lunatic."
Karissa tenses. She's terrified.
But Lorenzo? He laughs.
Unlike everyone else, he finds this all funny. Life, to him, is nothing more than a game. Product of his upbringing, maybe, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were merely coded in his DNA. He never knew his real father, but the Gambini name is one of the worst. Cold, calculated mass murderers. He was raised an Accardi, though, which arguable isn't much better. His stepfather was an abusive alcoholic with a hot temper and an itchy trigger finger, the kind of man who would beat a child unconscious and not bother to call an ambulance until after he fixed himself a drink.
Another of those reasons I had to kill the man.
"Naz," Karissa whispers. "We've got to get out of here. I can't... I can't do this. He's going to kill us."
"Relax. He's not going to kill us. He's—"
"A friend," Lorenzo chimes in, looking almost smug about it as he does.
Karissa's face contorts at the word. Friend.
"He's not a threat," I tell her. "Not to me."
Not right now, anyway.
Tomorrow is another day.
"How can you think that? He... he was there! With the cab driver, and the man, and oh God, just right now! He did it... he's one of them. And you expect me to trust him?"
"No," I say, turning toward her, my hands cradling her face as I look at her pointedly. "Never trust a word he says. He'll lie right to your face."
"I'm right here, you know," Lorenzo says.
I ignore that.
"But trust me, Karissa. Can you do that?"
She nods, although she looks at me like I might be losing my mind. But I don't have it in me to try to explain it right now. I'm utterly exhausted, and she needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.
"Can you walk?" I ask her.
"Uh, yeah… of course."
I take her hand, turning to Lorenzo. Don't make a liar out of me. "We're leaving."
He steps aside to give us a path to the wooden stairs, but he says nothing. I lead Karissa over toward them, letting her go up first, and cast another look at Lorenzo.
He's watching me curiously. "You still want that meeting?"
"You know I do."
He nods, looking away. "I'll be in touch."
We find no resistance leaving. The men are still scrambling around, too preoccupied to even notice us. They heard the gunshot. We slip out the front door, and I help Karissa straight to my car, waiting until she's settled before getting in beside her.
A gasp for air, a devastated whimper, the sound of Karissa trying her hardest to be strong, but it's not working. I don't hesitate. I head right down those flimsy stairs, down into the darkness, frantic to get to her… to find her… to see her. To let her know it's okay, that she's okay, that we're going to be okay.
I swear it, we will, we'll make it, even if it's the last thing I do.
I'll give her the happiness she deserves.
No more of this grief.
No more of these goddamn tears.
She's huddled in a corner, her knees pulled up, her head down, shielding her face. Hands fist her chaotic hair, clinging to it like her life depends on it, like holding on is what's holding her together. She's rocking and shaking, oblivious to my presence, so lost in her head, so overwhelmed by her heartache, that she didn't even hear me.
I stare at her, for just a second, taking her in as she collapses into herself in the darkness, feeling a deep ache in my chest. Feeling the pain I know she's been feeling. Her heart is broken, but the fucking thing is still beating. Second after second, it continues to keep her alive.
I take a step toward her, then another, before she breaks out of her trance, realizing she's not alone. Her whimpers cease as she inhales sharply, steeling herself like only she can. Her head darts up, piercing, angry eyes cutting through the darkness, seeking out whatever she heard. Her gaze meets mine, and I watch as the rage fades away, melting straight to that goddamn heartbreak.
I hate it.
I hate seeing it.
But fuck, she's beautiful.
Happy. Sad. Angry. Terrified.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She's beautiful because she's strong.
Beautiful because she's fierce.
Beautiful because, even when I hesitated, she didn't.
She fought.
She fought hard.
And goddamn if that's not beautiful to me…
Her mouth moves, but no words greet me.
She's shell-shocked.
She stares at me, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
She's not moving, not even blinking, like maybe I'm just a figment of her imagination and she's afraid the darkness is going to erase me if she surrenders to it.
"I told you," I say quietly. "I'll always come for you."
That does it. That's all she needs.
A cry echoes through the basement as she forces herself to her feet, shoving off of the floor, barely able to stand, let alone walk, but she's strong enough to throw herself at me, knowing good and well I'll never let her fall. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to me, holding her tightly, relishing in her warmth. She's on her tiptoes, clinging to me.
"I thought you were dead," she whispers, her voice cracking around the words.
"Come on," I say, stroking her tangled hair. "You really think I'm that easy to kill?"
She laughs, but it's not a happy sound.
There's nothing funny about any of this.
Footsteps register behind me then, just a moment passing before a harsh overhead light flicks on across the basement. Squinting from the light, I set Karissa on her feet and loosen my hold, but she winces, clutching ahold of me. My instinct is to look at her, my eyes scanning her, alarmed when I see the blood coating her dirty, bare foot. "What happened?"
My question is lost on her as she starts to panic. Her breath quickens, body shaking, as she frantically clings to me, her attention across the room. Shit.
I turn my head, looking right at Lorenzo, his apparent number one little soldier standing guard by his side. The guy looks nervous.
"What happened to her foot?" I ask, motioning toward it, a touch of anger in my voice.
He starts to stammer.
What is it with these guys?
"She, uh... well... she did it to herself."
I look at him incredulously. "She did it to herself."
"Uh, yeah," he says. "She kicked out the car window."
"She kicked out the car window."
"And the glass, it shattered. Cut her, I guess. She was fighting us, you know? Wasn't anything I could do about it. Like I said... she did it to her—"
Before the guy can finish saying 'herself', Lorenzo reacts, reaching into his waistband and pulling out his gun.
BANG
A single shot, right to the temple, lights up the basement. It blows his fucking head apart. The guy drops instantly. Karissa lets out a scream, startled, and I pull her to me tightly, holding her as I glare at Lorenzo. "Was that necessary?"
"Of course," he says, slipping the gun back away. "All I heard was blah blah blah I didn't follow instructions so just kill me already. Why? What did you hear?"
"That you're a lunatic."
Karissa tenses. She's terrified.
But Lorenzo? He laughs.
Unlike everyone else, he finds this all funny. Life, to him, is nothing more than a game. Product of his upbringing, maybe, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were merely coded in his DNA. He never knew his real father, but the Gambini name is one of the worst. Cold, calculated mass murderers. He was raised an Accardi, though, which arguable isn't much better. His stepfather was an abusive alcoholic with a hot temper and an itchy trigger finger, the kind of man who would beat a child unconscious and not bother to call an ambulance until after he fixed himself a drink.
Another of those reasons I had to kill the man.
"Naz," Karissa whispers. "We've got to get out of here. I can't... I can't do this. He's going to kill us."
"Relax. He's not going to kill us. He's—"
"A friend," Lorenzo chimes in, looking almost smug about it as he does.
Karissa's face contorts at the word. Friend.
"He's not a threat," I tell her. "Not to me."
Not right now, anyway.
Tomorrow is another day.
"How can you think that? He... he was there! With the cab driver, and the man, and oh God, just right now! He did it... he's one of them. And you expect me to trust him?"
"No," I say, turning toward her, my hands cradling her face as I look at her pointedly. "Never trust a word he says. He'll lie right to your face."
"I'm right here, you know," Lorenzo says.
I ignore that.
"But trust me, Karissa. Can you do that?"
She nods, although she looks at me like I might be losing my mind. But I don't have it in me to try to explain it right now. I'm utterly exhausted, and she needs to see a doctor as soon as possible.
"Can you walk?" I ask her.
"Uh, yeah… of course."
I take her hand, turning to Lorenzo. Don't make a liar out of me. "We're leaving."
He steps aside to give us a path to the wooden stairs, but he says nothing. I lead Karissa over toward them, letting her go up first, and cast another look at Lorenzo.
He's watching me curiously. "You still want that meeting?"
"You know I do."
He nods, looking away. "I'll be in touch."
We find no resistance leaving. The men are still scrambling around, too preoccupied to even notice us. They heard the gunshot. We slip out the front door, and I help Karissa straight to my car, waiting until she's settled before getting in beside her.
