Not Looking for Love: Episode 7 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (6 page)

"What?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"Just until I figure this out?" I say. "You can't just stay in this hotel."

"Why not?"

And, really, maybe she can. Maybe I can just stay here with her for the next twenty years. Who'd look for us here?

"Like your aunt’s place or something?" I urge.
 

"Why are you sending me away?" her eyes are wide now, and the rivers waiting to spill are obvious even in the half light.

"I'm not. I just don't think you're safe here. I want you safe."

"I'll get those bodyguards, like we said," she says.
 

"I'll ask around for one," I say. Though whatever happens now, should happen soon. "I have to go home and make some calls, set things in motion."

I get out of bed, so I don't have to see the disappointment in her eyes. "I'll call you later and we can talk about this some more."

Right now I need to get outside, get some air, think. I also need to ask questions. And if there's a way to put Vlado out of business for good then I need to find it. I don’t have any kind of plan yet, but maybe I can get more information about Vlado’s suspicions from Greg. Or possibly Mike.

Gail's standing next to me, swaying a little since she got up too fast. "I wish you'd stay."

My legs feel like I'm standing knee deep in quickly drying cement. All my reasons for leaving are so far away I can't even remember coming up with them. She leans into me, and my arms embrace her of their own accord. She's still so soft and warm from sleep, but I'll never get to enjoy that forever, if I don't fix this now.

"I'll see you later,” I whisper into her hair. "But I did make plans with Mike for tonight, so I might be late."

She lets me go and forces a smile. "Fine, I get it. You don't want to involve me in this. I understand."

She sits on the edge of the bed, and clasps her hands together in her lap. All I want to do is sit down next to her. But instead I put on my shoes and leave. Because the time for wishing is gone.

I end up walking all the way downtown to my apartment, because it's too early to call Greg, and I'll just end up pacing the apartment anyway. The sun's rising by the time I reach my block at just after six in the morning.

But it's still too early to call Greg, and even if it wasn't, I have no idea how to approach the subject. But what I do know is that Vlado is just as much of an obstacle to me and Gail ever living a normal life, and Greg could be the only person who could confirm, or deny that.

I call him at half past nine. He's a little upset that I woke him, but agrees to come down to my apartment anyway.
 

I'm folding my laundry when the bell rings.

"You're up really early, Scott," he says as he saunters in, his cigarette already lit.

"I couldn't sleep," I say and shift the pile of laundry so he can sit on the couch.
 

"Listen, I don't know how to say this," I start, handing him the ashtray. "So I'm just gonna say it and hope it doesn't leave this room. I'm thinking of walking away after this last job."

His eyes turn wide and he studies me for a few moments, causing cold sweat to break out along my back. I misjudged him. I shouldn't have trusted him. With the hints he's been dropping I thought he wanted out too. I really did. Well, if this fails, there's always Africa.

"You do realize this isn't just one of those jobs you can quit?" he asks.

I shrug. "It is, and it isn't. What you're saying is that Vlado isn't the type to just let me quit?"

"I tried to leave once, but here I am, still working for him, if that answers your question," he says.

"Not really," I mutter. "Why did you stay?"

"I don't want to get into it," he says, stubbing out his cigarette hard, sending ash and sparks flying everywhere. "Let's just say he eliminated the reason why I wanted to leave in the first place."

And that could be so many things I don't even how to begin to decipher it.

"Say I told him I just want to go back to school and leave all this behind?" I ask. "How would he react?"

"I have no idea. I'm still not sure he's completely forgiven you for walking away from that job, sixth sense or not, to be honest."

I actually gasp in shock. I thought that was handled, and that Vlado trusted me more because I was able to follow my gut and do what I thought was right by abandoning that job. Why else has he been inviting me over for drinks ever since. Unless it's because he wants to keep a closer eye on me.

Greg is peering at me again, like he's desperately trying to read something off my face.
 

"Do you still think the Albanian job will go south?" I ask. That should give him enough of a clue, without me revealing too much.

"I am almost certain it will," Greg says, toying with his lighter, but not lighting a new cigarette. "Which is why I think Valdo’s gonna cancel it. But we'll know more tomorrow afternoon. He wants another meeting."

Shit. So much for chance solving this for me.
 

Greg gets up and pockets his lighter. Then he just stands there looking off through the windows, the sun reflecting off the building opposite.
 

"You might get your wish sooner than you think, though." His words are so aligned with what I was thinking that I'm sure I just imagined him saying it. But he's looking at me knowingly now, nodding slightly. There's more he wants to say, I can hear the echoes. But he doesn't, just turns and walks out.
 

So I can't ask him about all those other things I had planned to, like just how well connected Vlado really is, and how far his reach stretches. Maybe Connecticut would already be safe.

I'm at Mike's house by eight. He opens the door in his bathrobe, and spends the next half an hour waking up, mostly by snorting coke. I haven't been in his apartment since the night I planted all that evidence against him, and I really hope that doesn't come up tonight.
 

"Sure you don't want some?" he asks, after his fifth line. I shake my head again, as I did the last ten times he's asked me.
 

His place is spotless like he spends most days cleaning, but then again he's always been a neat freak. Even when we were kids and still shared a room my mess drove him nuts. As have most things I have ever done. Those years spent goading him by never clearing up might actually be the whole reason why I'm still a slob.

"So, did you find out anything from Greg?" Mike asks, leaning back and extending his arms along the backrest of the sofa.

I take a long swallow of my beer, thinking hard about how much to tell him. But there's no way I'm telling him what Greg said before he left my apartment this morning or even hinting at it. "He confirmed that Vlado thinks someone's working against him. But he doesn't know who."

"The fuck he doesn't," Mike says, bolting up so fast he nearly knocks the coffee table over. "Greg's like a son to Vlado."

"I haven't really seen that kind of closeness between them," I offer. Which is true enough. If anything, I think Greg hates Vlado, but I don't say that.

"Well, no, not lately," Mike says and sits back down, arranging another line of coke on a small ornate mirror. "Something happened a couple of years ago."

"What?"

"I don't know exactly, it was before my time. But it was bad," Mike says, proceeding to snort the coke.

"Listen, if shit's about to go down, I'd rather not be in the middle of it," I venture.
 

"You and me both," Mike says, wiping the excess white powder off the edges of his nose.
 

"I mean, I want out."

He glares at me with that gleam in his eyes that I've come to associate with Psycho Mike. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I shouldn't have tested our newfound brotherly love so soon.

"I agree, I think this is a good time to start thinking about bowing out," Mike says and chuckles, probably noticing the relief in my face, which I couldn't hide if I tried.

"But how?" I ask, hoping to hell that he already has a plan.

"I've been running some shit on the side, using his resources,” Mike says. “If all goes well, by the end of the year, I can make my play and get out from under his influence. I can take you with me then."

"Are you the one working against him?" I ask, saying the first thing that pops into my mind.
 

His eyes turn to gleaming black again. "In a manner of speaking, but I don't think I'm the one he's looking for now. I’m trusting you that what I just told you won't leave this room."

I nod. "I won't tell anyone. But what I'm saying is that I want out, for good."

"You still dreaming of a nice suburban life with that nerdy girl?" he asks. The flash of hate his words bring must be showing on my face because I have no idea how to hide it.

"That's something you'd allow? Given your threats against her?"

He sighs and leans back, staring up at the ceiling. "I was really pissed at you when I said those things. Maybe I can let you have her after all. But I can't let you just abandon me."

I'm clenching my teeth together so hard my jaw aches. So it was all just a joke? A sick game? What I want to do is yell at him, hit him, make him pay for all the shit he's put Gail and me through. But I'm finally making progress here, and I have to bend enough to see where it leads.
 

"So if I help you make your play against Vlado, will that make things alright between us again?" I figure that's what he wants. Probably the only thing he wanted from me since I got out of prison. I wish he’d just been more upfront about it.

"That would go a long way in that direction," he mutters, smiling at me.

"Would it go all the way?"
 

"Yes."

"And you'd let me walk away afterwards?"

Darkness covers his face again, spreading from his eyes. "You really want to just leave all this behind, don't you?"

"Yeah," I say and leave it at that.

Then we just stare at each other. I watch the shadows play across his face and I have no idea what he's really thinking. So I can't trust him. I realize that too.
 

He stretches out his hand so fast I recoil a little.

"It's a deal then," he says and chuckles.

I shake his hand. "When do we start?"

"Eager much?" he says and chuckles again, setting up another line of coke.
 

"When?" I ask, letting too much impatience into my voice.

"Soon."
 

"What do I have to do?"

"Wait for my instructions," he says and snorts the coke. "And in the meantime make sure Vlado suspects nothing."

I want to end this shit tonight, start working on it right away. The wish is so strong it's actually burning a hole in my chest. Or maybe that's caused by the other wish, the bigger one, the one that never goes away.

"So can I call Gail?" I ask, looking directly into his eyes, hoping to spot a clue, the tiniest indication that will tell me I can trust him again. An assurance that Mike isn't really a psycho, that he's only pretending to be.

"Like you haven't already?" he says, making me blink hard. If I deny it he'll think I'm a liar. If I admit it, he'll know I went behind his back. I'm on my feet before I realize it, my bottle of beer crashing to the floor, spewing froth all over. I have to get to Gail. If he knows where she is, it might already be too late.

"Relax, Scott. And clean that shit up," Mike says. "I know you met up with her already, and I know you've spent the last three nights with her."

My fists are shaking so hard my whole body is vibrating from it. "How?"

"Well, I had to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren't doing anything bad behind my back. Like going to Jerry or something," Mike says. "I must say I'm impressed you didn't contact her sooner."

"Is she alright?" I ask, since it's the only thing I need to know. "I won't see her again. Just leave her be. OK? It was a mistake. She called. I couldn't say no. I tried."

Mike looks at me like he thinks maybe I'm ill, which I think I just might be.
 

"She's fine," he says. "And she will be, as long as you got my back with Vlado."

I sit back down, since the whole room is spinning suddenly, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'm not maybe stuck in some ultra realistic dream.

"I can see her?"

"Shit, yes. Stop being so pitiful, Scott," Mike says, exhaling loudly. "You always were too emotional."

He gets up and leaves the room, returning with a roll of paper towels, a wet rag and spray cleaner. I get up to take it from him, so I can clean up the spilt beer, but he waves me away and starts cleaning it by himself. "You'll just make an even bigger mess."

"So you threatening Gail and her dad was just bullshit?" I ask, slumping back into my chair.
 

"No. That was payback for all the shit you’ve caused lately," Mike says. "But I'm through with it. I wasn't serious about that, it just sort of got out of hand."

"Out of hand?" I'm gasping for air. He fucking cut Gail’s arm, chained her up in an abandoned warehouse, threatened to rape her.

"Yeah, out of hand," he snarls. "But now I need to start moving on."

I swallow against the bile rising in my throat, try to blink away the blinding anger. I need to move on too. With Gail.
 

"As in start your own organization?" I ask.

"Yes, like the one you destroyed when Derek gave it all up so you wouldn't have to go to jail," he says, wiping the floor with way too much force, shredding the paper towel.
 

"I didn't want that," I sigh, sitting back down and closing my eyes. Which is no good, since now I'm seeing the drab grey walls of my prison cell, and I can almost smell the dirty toilets.

"But," Mike says and stands up. "After spending time inside I understand perfectly why you wanted to get out. I wanted out too."

"I wish that never happened," I say, guilt over not even speaking to Derek for the past four months nearly bringing tears. Or maybe that's just relief over finally getting Mike to take it all back. But can I trust him? Could he just have been faking that psycho shit? What kind of person does that?