Page 24 of Faded Rhythm

Julian

The moment I saw that car behind us, I knew.

It wasn’t just following. It was tracking—too close, and too smooth. I’ve seen that pattern a million times. A rhythm meant to blend in but just off enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck.

I check the side mirror again. Black mid-size sedan. No front plate. Driver’s leaning back, left hand draped on the wheel like he’s out for a joyride. But his eyes are locked. On us.

Sable’s hand is on my thigh, soft and warm. A jolt of tenderness flashes through me, but it’s gone in a blink. I shake my head at her. No time for softness.

“Hold on tight,” I tell her, already shifting gears.

My foot slams on the accelerator.

Screams. Tires squealing. Engine roaring. We shoot down the street, then I take a sharp left at the last second, tires skimming the edge of the curb.

The rearview mirror shakes from the torque. I glance at it. The car’s still behind us.

“Sable. Tell the girls to get down. Now.”

She doesn’t argue. With a strong, but shaky voice, she says, “Girls. Get down. Pretend you’re playing hide and seek. Right now.”

I hear their little bodies scrambling in the back.

I take a series of turns, left, right, left again, no discernible pattern, switching lanes, weaving through sleepy neighborhoods that weren’t built for speed. They’re still on our tail, and I realize it instantly.

Whoever’s back there isn’t just good. They’re trained.

Fuck.

I wonder what the odds are of Brett having two ex-military operatives in his employ.

It doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, I can’t lose them here in suburbia without risking civilian lives. I need options.

I veer onto a main road. Traffic’s thin, but building. The morning rush is gathering. I hit 80, weaving between cars, taking the SUV to its edge without blinking.

“Where are we going?” Sable’s voice breaks through the buzzing in my ears.

“Somewhere I can control the terrain.”

My mind runs through the layout of the area. There’s an access road about three miles out leading to a construction site. There’s uneven asphalt and overgrown brush. Perfect for cornering a tail and flipping the script.

I glance at the girls in the back. They’re quiet now. I can’t see them, but I feel their fear pulsing in the air like static.

For their sakes, I need to end this now.

I slam a hard right, cutting through a gas station, hooking back onto the outer bypass. The black sedan overshoots by half a second, but adjusts fast. An amateur would have lost sight of me.

“Shit,” I mutter.

But I have them where I want them. They think I’m running.

But I’m leading.

There it is. The access road.

I turn down and stomp on the gas pedal, passing orange barrels and concrete barriers. As soon as their lights disappear, I cut mine, pulling off the road behind a tractor.

I kill the engine.

It’s quiet. No more than five seconds pass before they zoom by.

I look back again. The girls are holding each other. Next to me, Sable’s eyes are wide, her breathing rapid.

I raise a finger. “Shhh.”

Then I step out of the SUV. I pull my piece, thumbing the safety off, then duck behind a barrel, putting myself in the perfect position to take them out when they pass by.

Headlights.

A bead of sweat runs down my temple.

Twenty seconds, and then it’s go time.

But something stops me.

Those two little girls.

And knowing what the sound of gunshots and a murder or two will do to them.

They didn’t ask for this.

And they’d never be free from this day.

I blow out a sigh as the sedan passes, heading back down the access road toward the bypass.

I thumb the safety back on and stand from my crouching position, only halfway satisfied. I lost them successfully, but what I wanted to do was kill the motherfuckers.

The girls squeal when I open the driver’s side door, and I feel horrible. They’re terrified.

I look in the backseat, patting one little back, then another.

“Yall can stop hiding, now. Game’s over.”

I glance at Sable. Her lower lip is trembling.

“Sorry I drove so fast,” I say as the girls get back into their seats. “I bet that was scary.”

“Were you chasing somebody?”

I smile at Kelice. “Nope. Nothing like that. Just trying to make you girls laugh. Did you laugh?”

Rae rolls her eyes. “It’s not fun being scared.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “Go ahead and buckle, sweetheart.”

I reach over and press my thumb to Sable’s lower lip, mouthing, “It’s okay,” trying my best to soothe her frayed nerves.

“Listen,” I say, my voice low. “I have a place. It’s south, past the airport.”

Sable’s brows go up slowly. “A house?”

“Yeah. It’s real out of the way. We can do another hotel if you want, but—“

“No. He keeps finding us.”

I nod. “My place, then?”

“Yes. Please.”

The drive south is quiet. Long stretches of highway slip behind us, the morning sun slicing through the treetops.

I take backroads when I can, mostly out of habit, partly out of paranoia.

Paranoia keeps you alive. Besides, what they say is true.

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean nobody is after you.

Sable’s curled against the window, knocked out, her head bobbing every time the car hits a deep groove in the pavement. The girls are asleep in the backseat, their snores filling the interior like little reminders of what’s at stake.

Finally, I pull off the main road and ease the car down a private gravel path that cuts through dense woods.

The trees slant overhead like a canopy, filtering the sun into golden streaks.

The gate is a quarter of a mile in, tall, black, and imposing.

As soon as I tap my remote, it creaks open, welcoming me home.

But this house isn’t just a home. It’s a fortress.

It sits on eight acres of mostly uncleared land tucked into a pocket of south Fulton, just south of Hartsfield-Jackson airport.

You wouldn’t even know it existed unless somebody drew you a map and walked you there themselves.

The nearest house is ten minutes away, and that’s on a good day with no mud, downed trees, or flooded streets.

We get those fairly often, and they suit me just fine.

My place is modern and simple. Two stories on a basement, brand new, state-of-the-art security and interior features. Solar-powered. Backup generators. Bulletproof glass windows. Steel interior doors. Surveillance so extensive, I get an alert if a squirrel blinks too hard near the perimeter.

Nobody gets in here unless I let them.

For the first time since I’ve had this place, I’m letting them.

I tap Sable’s leg when we pull into the drive. She lifts her head quickly, looking at me with confusion in her eyes.

“We’re here,” I say softly.

She nods, turning to look at the girls. They’re already awake and rubbing their little eyes. When I kill the engine, they both look out the window at the same time.

“Come on,” I say gently. “Let me get y’all inside.”

I grab the luggage while Sable and the girls make their way to the door.

Inside, I lead them down the hall to one of the guest rooms. It has two twin beds, a shelf of books, a stack of board games, and a small TV on the dresser.

They go into the closet and find a pair of old walkie-talkies I meant to throw out.

Funny to see kids playing with those in the age of cellphones, but I guess the novelty makes them fun.

I grab a couple of water bottles and a bag of Doritos and leave them on the dresser before heading back down the hall. Sable’s nowhere to be found.

Then I find her. In my bedroom. In my bed, to be precise. She’s laid out across the navy blue comforter like she belongs there. What’s even better, she’s stripped down to just her bra and panties.

A chuckle slips out before I can stop it. “Well damn. You get comfortable quick.”

She smiles without opening her eyes. “I’m tired, the door was open, and your bed is soft.”

“You don’t have to explain,” I say. “I’m gonna grab us something to eat.”

She opens one eye. “Lay down with me? Just for a minute.”

I hesitate. One minute with her seems impossible, but I close the door and strip down to my boxers anyway, climbing in beside her. Her skin is warm. Her body’s a welcome weight beside mine. I stare at the ceiling in silence, contemplating this moment and how I got here.

Then she breaks the silence.

“Who was chasing us?”

I close my eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Any ideas?”

“Ex-military,” I admit. “High level, like me.”

She shifts, turning onto her side so she can look directly at me. “How does Brett know people like y’all?”

I don’t wanna answer that question.

“How did he find you, Julian?”

I scoot closer to her, lifting the covers up over both of us. “What matters is that nobody’s finding us here. I promise you that. I’ma take care of this. Don’t worry.”

She exhales. “I just want this to be over.”

I don’t respond.

I don’t know how to tell her it won’t be. Not for a while, at least. Not until I untangle all the knots Brett has us tied up in. Not until I know how deep this all goes.

“Is this your house?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice. Quiet.”

I nod.

“Did you grow up around here?”

That makes me smile. “You were right on the money when you introduced me as your cousin from New York?”

She perks up. “Seriously?”

“Yes, ma’am. Brooklyn, born and raised.”

I feel it coming, so before she digs any deeper, I head it off at the pass.

“That’s all,” I say. “No more questions about me.”

Her lips part, her brows knitting together. “We’ve had sex, Julian. I like to think I’m allowed to ask you questions now.”

“I talk when I’m comfortable.”

She stares at my face, blinking rapidly. “So what can I do to make you comfortable?”

My eyes move back to the ceiling. “Nobody can make me comfortable.”

She sighs loudly, throwing the covers off with great fanfare. “You’re annoying, you know that?” she says, reaching for her jeans.

I watch her yank her clothes on, guilt pooling in my stomach. I don’t like pushing her away. I’m not even sure I mean to. I just can’t open the gate any wider right now. Not with everything going on.

“I’m going to check on my daughters,” she mumbles, then she storms out, leaving the scent of her perfume lingering in the air.

I lay here alone, just like I usually do. My chest rises and falls. Thoughts churn around in my head.

She wants in. All the way in. And I won’t let her.

It’s not fair to either one of us. It’s why I always end up lying here alone.

The secrets I try to keep buried create the loneliness I carry.