Page 28

T he man I had planned to kill after the cartel stands at the door of the cell. He appears as if he just left the agency, wearing a pair of black slacks and a button-up shirt. There’s a pen in his pocket, and a food stain on the opposite side. Looking at him, one would likely never guess that he was capable of working for the cartel, but something I have learned over the years is that no one is who they seem.

Still, this man and all his arrogance, tries to act as if he’s here out of concern. His brows draw together, and his mouth turns down in the corner. “Frances. Are you okay?”

She takes a singular step toward the opening of the cell, allowing panic to slither into me cold and slow. I need to tell her who this man is, what he’s tried to do to her, but I don’t want to distract her. She’ll be so worried about me she’ll let her guard down, even if only for a second, and he could attack.

But I should have known that my agent is smart.

“What are you doing here, Fikes?” Jessica’s voice isn’t full of suspicion, it’s knowing, and it relieves me instantly of the chill wrapped tight around my spine.

“I followed you. You’ve been ditching me a lot lately, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “Glad I did too. You had some thugs out there that were about to come in here. I took care of them for you.”

Jessica laughs, the sound bitter as it echoes through the air. “Oh, geez man, thanks. Well, I got it now. You can go.”

Fikes ignores her response and peers over her to me. “Who’s that you got there? Not going to introduce me?”

“No, I’d rather not. But again, thanks for all your help. Be safe getting back to the car.”

He huffs. “Can’t leave here without you, Jess.”

She recoils at the name he uses, her grip tightening on the gun. “And why is that?”

“ Porque ella le pertenece. ” His hidden accent comes through heavily as he draws a gun from behind him, likely hidden in his belt, and flicks it in Jessica’s direction. “Go ahead and give me your gun. You won’t need it.”

For a while, she simply stands there, her eyes scanning over the man with methodical attention. It’s how I imagine she studies files at work, how she catalogs people to build a profile. I wonder if that’s what happened when she finally put my pieces together. When she finally sees me for what I was— am .

Before I can allow the dread to settle over me, Jessica takes another few steps to exit the cell before dropping her gun right at her feet. “Here ya go.”

“Kick it to me, Frances.”

“Why?” Her smile is arrogance incarnated, while her words are condescending. “You’ve got a gun, and I’m not fast enough to bend and get it before you shoot me standing like meters away, soooo…”

I’d laugh at my pretty girl’s dominance if I knew my lungs wouldn’t crack.

When he doesn’t move, she giggles—this time hitting her mark. “Don’t tell me you're scared to grab a gun from me, Fikes? Is that why they had you on undercover duty? Too much of a tender ball sack to hang out with the big boys?” She kicks the gun out a foot, far enough he should be comfortable, but close enough she can make physical contact if she plans to.

My nerves endings prickle, the notion that I can’t help and can only watch fraying the frail edges.But then the bait works. Fikes rolls his eyes and strides forward, his own ego keeping him from seeing her hand slide behind her. And when he foolishly crouches to get the gun, Jessica's fingers lock around the base of the metal bat in her harness and yank it free.

She jams her knee up, hitting him square in the nose where an audible crack splits the air. Blood shoots from his nose as his head flies back, but before the next breath, she swings, connecting the metal with the side of Fikes’ head.

Horrendous man didn’t stand a chance.

His head slams into the floor with a sound that makes her wince, but she doesn’t stop. She’s cautious as she walks near his unconscious body and grabs both guns, quickly patting down his frame to find another hidden at his ankle. After shoving them into her cargo pants’ pocket, she returns to me, her hands back on my body.

“We have to move, .” My name leaving her lips penetrates my skin like water on starved earth. “Can you move?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t tried to move today.”

Her beautiful pupils flare. “Let’s do it together.”

Winding an arm behind my back, she lifts, and I’m immediately struck with a searing pain that slices from my spine down, coiling around my ribs. Her name leaves my lips in a hiss.

“I’m so sorry.” She’s careful when she lays me back down. “I’m going to check your body for where the most discomfort is coming from, then we’ll try again.”

After I give her a curt nod, she begins her inspection, her hands lightly brushing over me. I grunt when she hits a tender spot, courtesy of the cartel’s special treatment, and stop breathing when she touches a place that makes my vision cloudy. When she’s done, and her eyes connect back to mine, a wall of tears makes them glimmer.

“What did they do?”

I lift a shoulder—albeit only an inch. “Not enough to kill me.”

A tear falls over the brim. “They could have.”

Ignoring the pull against my tendons, I force my hand up to brush it away from her cheek. There are a hundred things I want to say, a dozen more I want her to understand, but only one that falls from my lips.

“Thank you.” I’m well aware it’s insignificant, and likely means nothing to her, but if by some chance this is the last thing she hears, I want her to know how grateful I am. For feeling again, for caring, for wanting to live …

“Red.” ’s hands grip on either side of my shoulders. “Don’t start that shit. We’re going to get you out of here, and then you can tell me thank you a million times over.”

Without waiting for my response, her arm slips back under me before she lifts, apologizing softly when I scream out, the pain ripping my core in half.

Whether it was at the order of the leader or not, the men here got bored often, and their favorite game was seeing who could make me pass out first. Unfortunately for me, I was born with a pain tolerance that kept me awake far past what I should have been able to handle, and now it’s all closing in at the same time.

I shake my head when she gets me up, my arm hoisted over her shoulders. “I can’t put pressure on my right leg.”

Jessica nods. “Yeah, I think it’s?—”

“Oh, you got her.” Alexi appears in the doorway, surveying the scene before him. After piecing it all together, he nods toward Fikes’s body. “This the guy who killed the ones outside?”

Jessica nods and in the next second we both jerk instinctively from the bullet that Alexi fires into Fikes head. I would have liked much more torture, but in my current state, it will do.

“Alright, we got to go if we don’t wanna be here for backup.” Alexi comes up beside me, ignoring my groan of pain as he puts my other arm over his shoulders. “Broken?”

Jessica answers him. “Not sure. Something in her rib cage is definitely fractured. A possible break in her right leg.”

Alexi’s eye roll is dramatic. “Such a baby. We’ll get you fixed up. Can’t have my newest employee dying.”

I ignore him and focus my remaining energy hobbling to the exit. We pass more dead bodies than I knew even filled the prison, but I can say each of them died a death too quickly. When we finally make it to Alexi’s SUVs parked on the opposite side of the road, whatever energy I had left dwindles.

The moment I’m in the car, with Jessica beside me, I slip into the void, hoping that when I wake, she’ll still be here.

* * *

Much like in the prison cell, I’m not sure how many hours pass, or how many days flit by, merely that I’m safe and at home.

A home when I open my eyes on one occasion is full of people, some in scrubs and others in suits. Their voices hushed as they work around me. Nikolai hovers at the foot of the bed, overseeing everyone while instructing them what to do.

The next time, it’s empty, only the sounds of the machines I’m connected to filling the still air, the steady beat of my heart the only indicator I’m breathing. I think there’s a hue of blonde in my periphery. But I can’t be sure. I’m so tired, my eyes close of their own accord.

After that, I realize my home has been cleaned and organized, everything that wasn’t shattered in my fit of rage, put back in place. Books, in alphabetical order, records back in the stand. My plants, repotted and in new macrame hangers. She’s been here.

Relief stills my pulse, the knot ever present in my stomach loosening with the discovery, and I fall back into the abyss, a new sense of peace following behind me.

Today, it’s the smell of fresh sourdough being baked that wakes me.

My eyes flicker open to find the blonde agent in my kitchen, humming with a song that plays low on the record player. It’s a piece from Chopin.

Her blonde hair is in a bun, tendrils hanging down by her ears. A matching sweatpants suit hugs her body, making her appear cozy, yet incredibly sexy. I try not to let the excitement bubbling in my chest grow, but the sight of her here, as if yet another day, causes my heart to squeeze.

“Hey, you.” My voice is hoarse from disuse.

Jessica’s head whips toward me, and when her eyes connect, she drops her knife to rush over; her smile as big as I’ve ever seen it. The sight acts as the sunrise beaming over my perpetual night. It lights up my entire world and for a moment, I forget everything that’s happened.

The hurt, the lies, the betrayal, the secrets. It’s all evaporated, leaving only hope.

She’s gentle when she grabs my hand, sitting on my reading chair she’s pulled next to the bed. There’s a blanket, her phone, one of my herbal remedy books, and a puzzle magazine spread amongst her things.

She hasn’t left.

“How are you feeling?”

My smile is weak, but not from fatigue. I wonder if she’ll leave now that I’m alright. Instead of assuming, I ask. “If I tell you I’m fine, will you go?”

Jessica squeezes my hand. “Only if you ask me to.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” Hope expands in my chest, the airiness fluttering with a promise that somehow this woman doesn’t resent me. “How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re up. Niko said you would pull through, but it’d be rough. I’ve been worried about how much pain you’d be in. Do you need any more meds? He taught me how to administer it.”

“Did he now?” I lift a brow, slowly lifting. She’s quick to put another pillow behind my head. “What else did Niko teach you?”

Jessica releases a huff. “Don’t start. I’m still pissed about everything. The only reason I’m being nice is because you’re all banged up.”

“And when I’m healed?” I hold my breath for her answer. I have a lot to repent for and I can only hope she gives me the chance.

She releases my hand, narrowing me with a look that’d make me smile if she wasn’t so serious. Pulling her legs up as if getting cozy with a cup of warm tea, she tosses the blanket over her legs. “That depends.”

“On?”

“How honest you're ready to be.”

I don’t hesitate. “Whatever you want to know, you’ll know.”

“Then start at the beginning, Red, because I want to hear it all. I want to understand everything. Give me the chance to see all of you so I know who I’m choosing.”

A sharp burn flares up my throat, my eyes following suit. It takes a long time for me to quell my pulse and to swallow down the knot lodge there, but when I do, I spend the next hour telling her exactly what she wants.

I begin with my childhood, explaining how my father abused my mother. How one night he went too far, and murdered her, recruiting me at the age of seven to help bury her in the garden. Later when he was arrested, it was Mrs. Ward who took me in, and Ben who helped me through school. They were also the ones responsible for the remodel of my studio and ran the shop until I was old enough to legally take over.

Then I go into the gritty, darker details that might be a turning point in how she sees me. But again, through tears of listening, she nods, asking for me to continue if I’m up for it. So I do.

Inhaling a deep breath, I count to three before releasing it, as well as my hold on my identity I’ve kept a secret for so long.

“I didn’t like people. And the older I got, the more my disdain grew. There was this twisted urge I used to feel when I would see someone litter, or be cruel to an animal. I wanted to inflict pain. Real consequential pain. One of the therapists I was court-ordered to see while living with Mrs. Ward told me that it could be signs of something more serious and needed to be evaluated for a possible diagnosis. Perhaps my father was struggling with mental illness and I was as well. Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied with another hobby. One that I couldn’t escape from, and would seal my fate.”

I explain how transfixed I became with learning about the medical and toxic traits of plants. How when I realized that they were strong enough to kill a human, I opened a door that would lock as soon as I entered.

“So when did Alexi come in?” Jessica is still in her same position, her legs curled under her and the blanket at her neck. Now that I’ve moved past the more distressing part of my childhood, she leans forward, her interest intense as I continue.

“I actually met Nikolai first. His mother used to come to the shop all the time for weekly bouquets and Mrs. Ward thought it appropriate that we supply the arrangements for her funeral service. Sometime during the event, when I was standing in the back, trying not to be noticed by anyone, he appeared next to me. I understood what it was like to lose a mother, so I simply sat with him in the weighted silence. In the middle of the wake, he pointed to a daffodil and asked me if I knew how dangerous they were. I explained I did, but would need to be prepared—something I most certainly didn’t know how to do.”

And that night, Nikolai taught me. Studying medicine was his passion, but not only in conventional ways. Somehow we became fast friends, and the man introduced me to what would be my new life.

“My father was my first kill, and his death relieved an itch I’d had since my mother passed. Shortly after, however, that itch returned, this time when I found out one of my delivery boys was raped by a grown man who worked at a pool hall not too far from my shop.”

It hadn’t been difficult to lure him in, especially when he was drunk one Saturday night. I used a paralytic on him and began experimenting with how to kill, determining what relieved the incessant itch the quickest. Too caught up, I made my first mistake by leaving the door unlocked, and it was Alexi who found me—there to buy his mother a bouquet to put on her grave.

Jessica blows out a heavy sigh. “Fuck.”

I nod, whatever energy I had at the beginning of this conversation slowly dwindles. “I’ve killed a lot of people. More than you know. I’m not a good person. I’m the safe choice. And if you are wise, you would stay as far away from me as possible.”

Jessica doesn’t stay quiet. She doesn’t sit and think over anything I’ve said. Instead, she looks at me, her blue eyes glimmering with a mischief I remember from first meeting at the bar. “I was supposed to be one of those people you killed.”

“Oh, sweet girl. It was never going to be you. It was always, always going to be me.”

“So, how are you not safe for me? Because of your life? I’m a fed. Plenty of people hate me all on my own. You’re not a good person? By whose standards? Sure, rapists and shitty people should definitely be arrested, but I also know the victims and their families see you doing them justice.”

“Don’t defend what I do. We both know it’s not right.”

She shrugs. “Again, I ask by whose standards. I saw what all those people were charged with. I saw the things they did. The world is much better off without them.”

Despite my muscles pulling tight, I force myself to sit up a little straighter. “What are you saying, Jessica? That you can bypass all those things and simply?—”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She pulls the blanket from over her, tossing it on the side of the chair as she stands, like she exasperated with the conversation. But then she leans over and kisses my forehead. “Besides, you really think I’m ready to forgo those foot rubs? These feet haven’t been the same.”

“You can’t simply forgive me this easily. Don’t you need time to consider everything?”

“Like that’s not what I’ve been doing the past week? Like I haven’t talked to Niko and Alexi and some really nice lady named Selina and her scary ass panther? I have weighed and thought over it all.” She places a hand on mine, her thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “And that is exactly how forgiveness works, Red. You say sorry, you fix the behavior, and that’s it. It’s that simple. I totally understand there is some shit we are about to face together, but you know what, why the fuck not? And why not with you? You deserve to be happy.”

Hope blooms so heavily in my chest that when I breathe, it’s shuttered, lined with emotion that overwhelms my senses. But Jessica smiles, lifting to kiss my hand before retreating into the kitchen. “You’re tired, but you need to eat something besides those IV nutrition things. I made the s’mores bread again. Have a small slice, then I want you to take a nap.”

“Just promise me you aren’t rushing to make this decision. That you’ll think about it more.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods, cutting a slice of the bread before returning to me.

It’s selfish of me, I know, but I wish with every fiber of my being that after I take the nap threatening to pull me under that I find her here. Still in my house, still baking, and still with me.

I end up not having to hope though, because when I wake later, she’s still here.

And she continues to come back, day after day, until on one of them, she never leaves.

It’s on that day, when we leave to grab a snack from Mrs. Ward, that Jessica tugs on my hand and directs my attention to the sky with numerous clouds scattered overhead.

“Look, an ivy leaf.”

My eyes flash to the cloud, a smile taking over my lips. But it’s not a leaf I find.

It’s forever.