I couldn’t argue with her on that one. Instead, I pulled her close to me and whispered against her ear.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, baby—so sorry. It was the only thing I could do to keep him from killing you.”
“Killing me?”
There was no point in hiding the truth any longer. I pulled her closer to my chest and pressed my lips to her hair.
“My former boss, Rinaldo, knows I’ve hooked up with Greco. He’s taking it out on you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he put a contract out on you. He’s offering fifteen grand to the person who kills you.”
She tensed in my arms, and her body shuddered. I knew she was crying even though I couldn’t see her face. I tightened my hold on her and then pulled back to lead her down the street. She didn’t resist though I couldn’t get her to go at a pace I considered quick enough. Odin was also skittish but followed me obediently.
We walked about a dozen blocks before I called another cab company– one I hadn’t used before—from a payphone. This time, the driver was an Indian guy wearing a flannel shirt that looked like it came right off the George Lucas line but no dark glasses or hat.
He drove us south where we got another cab up north. A few more similar trips and one bribed bus driver to allow Odin to ride later, we were at a small house in a crappy neighborhood.
“Whose house is this?” Lia asked as we went in.
“Mine,” I replied. “I bought it a few years ago because I needed a place to lie low every once in a while.”
“Like now?”
“Exactly.”
“You have a bunch of places like this, don’t you? Just like the cabin in Arizona.”
“Yes.”
“How long will we stay here?”
“Not long,” I told her. “I don’t think this place could be traced back to me, but you never know, and people are looking for you.”
Lia shuddered again. She looked like she was about to collapse, so I brought her into the bedroom and quickly found some clean sheets to put on the mattress. I didn’t even remove her clothes—just hauled her into bed and held her against my chest.
“I don’t know if I can handle all of this,” Lia admitted. Her arms came up around my neck.
I closed my eyes and touched my forehead to hers.
“That’s why I left,” I whispered. “I know leaving that note and no explanation was a shit thing to do, but I didn’t want you to be exposed to all this.”
I pulled her closer to me, wanting to feel like I could protect her with just the proximity of my body and knowing at the same time that it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t protect her mind that way or erase what she’d seen. She was everything I needed, and I was fucking poison to her. I’d known it since the beginning, but I’d been too selfish to push her away.
“You’re perfect for me,” I said, “and I’m just…just bad for you.”
Lia reached up and placed her hand against the side of my face as she shook her head slowly.
“You aren’t,” she said. “This situation is bad, but you’re not.”
“Right,” I scoffed. “I just killed someone right in front of you.”
Lia flinched, and I immediately felt bad for being so blunt.
“You’re warm,” she said as her body pressed against mine, “and you’re so smart. You’re gentle, and strong, and handsome. You’re compassionate and self-sacrificing.”
I shook my head and started to correct her, but she shushed me and stroked over my jaw with her fingers. I’d been far too preoccupied to shave, and I could hear the slight scratching sound as her fingertips rubbed against the stubble on my face as she continued.
“You went overseas to serve in the best way you could. You led people in battle. You were willing to give up your life for someone you didn’t even know. You stayed strong in your heart, no matter what they did to your body, and never gave them any information even though it might have been easier on you if you had.”
I blinked a couple of times. I hadn’t really thought about those years in any way other than the negative, and I wasn’t sure how to react to her words.
“You are perceptive,” she continued. “You always know exactly what I want and need. You’re loyal and brave. You have endured so much—far more than any one person should ever have to face—but you kept going.”
“I didn’t endure it,” I replied. “I cracked. I totally lost it.”
“Everyone has their breaking point, Evan. That’s not bad; that’s just being human.”
All I could do was stare at her. I wanted to deny it all—I wasn’t like that—but it was as if she had wormed her way into my head and dug out all the things I once was and held them to herself as truth. I wanted to remind her of what I had become since then—a cold-blooded, merciless killer—but I didn’t.
I kissed her instead. Again and again I kissed her because I didn’t have any words for what I was feeling.
Back in the hotel room Gavino provided for me, I placed the bag on the table and quickly ditched my clothes to get a shower. I didn’t bother to shave though I needed to. I was too anxious to get to my weapon. Once I was done with the shower, I pulled on my jeans, poured myself a scotch on the rocks, and quickly turned my attention back to the Barrett M82.
Reaching over to the switch, I turned the light on near me so I could see clearly. The light was low, but it was enough for what I needed. I silently pulled back the zipper of the gym bag and pulled out the pieces of the sniper rifle slowly and carefully—nearly with reverence. It was how I felt about the weapon—it had been one of the few constant things in my adult life. Every time I touched another piece of it, I felt like I was becoming more centered.
With my heart beating a little faster in my chest, I examined each of the pieces, starting with the upper receiver as I removed them from the bag. I checked for any marks that weren’t there before, checked that the springs were still tight, the impact bumpers weren’t twisted, and the barrel was clean. There were a few minor scratches on the scope that weren’t there before, but overall, it looked like everything was all right.
I continued my inspection over the bolt carrier group, the lower receiver, and the bipod assembly. Once I had completed the appraisal, I pulled out a cloth and a small bottle of oil and started to clean it.
I went over each and every part—removing powder residue and deposits from the barrel and then lubricating each piece with oil. I caressed the smooth metal, and the touch of it in my hands wasn’t unlike touching Lia in the way my mind calmed and focused on the task. When it was cleaned and oiled to my satisfaction, I began to assemble it.
There was no way I could have adequately expressed how I felt to have my Barrett in my possession again. I knew it made my fingers tingle to touch it again, and my mind flashed through the many, many times I had fired the weapon. I remembered handing over seven thousand dollars—all the money I had at the time—just to be able to take it with me when I left the Marines and never regretting leaving myself practically penniless in the process. I could have bought one on the street for less—government spending and all—but I wanted that one.
Though I never really referred to it as a she or anything like that, if my Barrett were a woman, I would definitely fuck her.
I had to fire it. Just had to. The shooting range wasn’t going to be enough, either. I needed a real, live, soon-to-be-dead target.
Gavino had given me two assignments over the last few days, and it was time to take care of one of them. I had already completed most of the recon on a particular coke dealer named Henry Martin. He kept coming up short on his payments to Gavino, and his excuses were becoming less and less believable. Gavino wanted to make him an example, and I knew exactly where to find him.