Hero

43

“You make me real. When you breathe into me, when you’re inside me, expanding, coming, you make me real.”

“You make yourself real, Cataline.”

“No. I wasn’t real until I felt you inside me.”

Was stripping myself bare and taking all of Calvin inside my body a dream? How can loving someone who doesn’t exist feel so real?

It’s not until Carter and I have been driving for some time that I tune in to my surroundings. My heart fills amongst the tall, glowering buildings of New Rhone, and the car’s reflection warps in silver, mirrored windows. It seems more sinister than it did months ago, the skyscrapers blending with a grey sky. It’s a haven nonetheless.

My mood plummets when I orient myself, though. The buildings shrink to standalone, rundown shops that appear deserted. One is on fire. Some pedestrians scramble to put it out while others lean against the opposite building, cigarettes sagging from their mouths.

The car suddenly veers from the pavement onto a dirt path. “Carter?” I ask as I jostle in my seat. “Maybe I’ve never flown before, but I know there aren’t any airports on the East Side.”

“Don’t worry, Cataline. It’s part of the plan.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

Out the window, I look for anything familiar through the cloud of dust the car kicks up. I slip my hand into the door handle. With the sudden pounding of my heart, my scarred wrists pulsate. They don’t think I can outrun Carter. My eyes close, and I pull with no result.

“You were locked up in that house a long time,” Carter says. “Few months.”

“Where are you taking me?”

He looks thoughtfully out the windshield, as though I’m not even here. “My wife, she’s been nagging me to get out of this job since we had a kid.”

“What makes you think I care?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. I guess I just want you to know that I don’t feel good about this. So I go to Parish, tell him to hire help. A mansion’s too much for one man, even with all that high-tech shit. I’m thinking maybe with another guy, eventually I can leave.”

“What’s this have to do with me?”

He twists to glance at me over his shoulder. “Good you didn’t lose your nerve. Some girls would’ve.” He turns forward again. “Anyway, he basically tells me to fuck off. Won’t give me vacation because there’s nobody else. Won’t let me quit, even though my wife says she’s had it.”

“It’s a job,” I say. “Why can’t you just leave?”

He’s quiet a few moments, so I assume the conversation is over. Finally he says, “He’s a killer, you know.” He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Calvin is. He’s killed a lot of people. Nothing more important to him than his secrets. Not one thing, not no one.”

Up ahead is the outline of what look like shacks. I fumble for the lock while watching the front of the car.

“Cartel came to me, and at first I said no way. Parish might be a bastard, but he’s not a bad guy, and he does good for this city. They threatened my family, Cataline. So I told them in exchange for Hero, I want a new life. I’m taking my family out of here—out of Parish’s reach. He’d kill me for it, so the Cartel’s getting me out of the country soon as I deliver you. My wife and kid—he’s five-years-old next month—they’re waiting for me at home, bags packed.”

“You don’t have to do it this way,” I say. “I’ll talk to Calvin about your job. I’ll tell him—”

“You think he gives a damn? What I’m trying to say is he’d kill me before he let me go. I tried to do this without you. Set it up so Hero went to them. Thought of all these ways I could catch him by surprise. But this guy I’m dealing with, he says you’re the answer.”

“They’ll kill me, Carter.”

“Nah. They have no reason to. You’re just bait.”

I wait for him to continue, but he pulls the car up to one of the huts and parks. “I’m sorry, kid. I am. They might rough you up a little, probably no more than Parish did. They won’t kill you, though. My advice is tell them what they want to know so they don’t hurt you. It’s just Parish they’re after, and I get the feeling you need to see him suffer more than anyone.”

The car door’s ominous slam reverberates through the leather seat underneath me. It’s the first time my role in this feud feels real. Hero has made a dangerous enemy in the Cartel, and leverage against someone as cold as Calvin is limited.

I try every handle in the car, searching for an unlock button that doesn’t seem to exist. Through the windshield, Carter approaches a boy who looks barely teenaged. They stand outside a building with crumbling brick walls that’s one of a few in a field of golden, dead grass.

When the teenager vanishes inside, I recognize the man who takes his place right away. Ash-blond hair combed away from a handsome, tan face. His square jaw is hard as he frowns, listening to Carter. Tension runs in ribbons through his muscular arms, his tattoos dancing in a splash of bright colors from under his rolled-up sleeves.

Carter gestures to the car, and Guy Fowler’s eyes cut right to me. I think I was afraid of him the first time I saw him, but I didn’t realize it. Now, I see a sort of recklessness in his blue eyes, something too disturbing for such a pretty face. I get the feeling the version of hell where Guy is in charge will be different from the one I’m escaping.

I reach over the front seat to check the driver’s door. It opens just as I reach for the handle, and a hand slaps over my wrist.

“Hey,” Carter says. “This could get ugly if we’re not careful. Just listen, and do what they say, okay?” He yanks hard on my wrist and pulls me out of the car, ignoring the way my body bumps and jerks over the console.

I fall into the dirt at Carter’s feet, fighting as he drags me. “Let go of me,” I say.

“Let go,” Fowler echoes from the porch, and Carter’s grip releases instantly.

I get to my feet, vainly brushing dirt from my jeans. Fowler stands motionless as I walk to him.

“Cataline,” he greets, his mouth quirking into a smile. “I wasn’t sure Carter could pull it off, but here you are.”

“He won’t come after me,” I say. “I’m just a fuck toy gone to the trash.”

Guy’s expression falls, and after a moment, he shakes his head and tsks. “Ay, díos mio. What’s he done to my sweet girl?” His head inclines toward his shoulder. I flinch away when he touches my hair. “We never did get that date, did we? A certain someone came between us.”

He takes my chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting my face as I breathe through my nose. “What do you want with me?” I ask.

“You’re the only thing he cares about enough to come after.”

“And when he doesn’t come?”

“He will.”

“Then what?”

He taps a gentle fingertip on my jaw, seemingly lost in thought. He squints up at the tangerine sun and then back at me. “Carlos Riviera is avenging his father’s death. Justice is very important to us.”

“Justice.” My tone is mocking, strong with false confidence. “That's a bullshit excuse for murder.”

He laughs. “You’re adorable. Since the moment I saw you I thought so. I’m not at all surprised about his affection for you.” To the man behind me, he says, “Show her to her room.”

“Should I call Carlos?” he asks.

“Not yet. I need time alone with her.”

“¿Y señor Carter?”

Fowler’s eyes return to mine when he says, “Carter is a traitor to Hero, which makes him a friend to Riviera. Carlos promised him protection out of the country.” He pauses, and I can almost hear Carter smiling. “However, betrayal after years of servitude tells me he’s not such a great friend to have. He knows too much. Kill him.”

A crow’s mocking cry is the only sound in the seconds of ear-piercing silence that follow. When Fowler pivots and walks away, I’m urged forward by a rough pair of hands. Screaming fills the dry afternoon air—not my own. Not this time. This time it’s Carter, and his screams are those of someone confronting death. I know because I’ve heard them before.

I look directly up at the smoke-shrouded sun. The nearby fire has turned the sky an unnatural neon orange color. My eyes burn, and ash rains softly around us. The smoke makes everything ugly, but I don’t care. I soak it all in, wondering if it’s the last time.

My room is only a room, a cell with a door instead of a gate. This cell, at least, is above ground with a barred window. I am once again without my things; even things that never belonged to me are taken away.

The boy from outside is smug as he shoves me deeper into the aridness. Before I can react, someone is grabbing my sweater to push me on the ground. The door opens and closes behind me, footsteps scrape, hands grab at my arms, turning me onto my back. Somebody is screaming, an elbow jabs into my side, a body covers mine, hands bind my wrists to the cold concrete. I realize I’m the one screaming as I count one, two, three leering faces above me.

“Revancha,” says the one with his hands under my top, clawing at my bra.

The man holding my right hand spits onto my cheek. “Puta.”

Even with Calvin’s confession, I can’t comprehend why they think this is revenge on Hero. I drive my knee into the balls of the man on top of me, and he curses. His fist sends my cheek into the concrete, but he pulls my face back up with a tight grip around my jaw. He forces his lips against mine, choking me with an infusion of hard alcohol and cigarettes.

The room explodes with a sudden gunshot and echoes with startled shouts. Guy is shirtless and standing in the doorway, his gun aimed at the ground as everyone stares at him. He fires another shot and all at once I’m released and alone on the floor.

“Fuera.” Guy’s tone is commanding but calm. The men look at each other, muttering in Spanish on their way out of the room.

I’m panting hard as Guy tucks the gun into his waistband so just the butt sticks out. “Sorry about them,” he says, walking toward me. “Nothing is off limits in the name of revenge.” My eyes flicker between his face and his outstretched hand. His arm drops to his side when I get to my feet on my own. “I can’t quite figure out what draws me to you,” he says. “Perhaps it’s your innocence.”

“I’m not innocent,” I insist. “Not anymore.”

“You are though. There’s a desperate hope in you that hasn’t yet been crushed.”

“You’re wrong. I have nothing left, least of all hope. You have no idea what I’ve been through already.”

His eyebrows draw together slowly as his mouth puckers. He comes closer, and I retreat until we’re in one corner of the room. I have to look up to meet his eyes. Unlike the intense pull of Calvin’s green, they’re the calming color of the sky, the Heavens. I jerk away when he raises his hand and touches my screaming lip. “They hurt you,” he says, showing me dots of my blood on his fingertip. “But he hurt you more.”

I exhale the breath I’d been holding.

“Do you hate him?”

“No.”

His head draws back. “No?”

“What happens when Carlos gets here?”

His eyes scan over my face. Finally, he says, “What a terrible host. You must be hungry. Squat and keep your hands where I can see them.”

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

“Those mutts will come sniffing around again. If you want me to keep them away, you better do as I say.”

His tone is chillingly even, as if his speech is rehearsed. I think he can smell my fear, but I can’t help gulping. My knees buckle, and I crouch with my palms on my thighs.

“Good. I’ll be back with some food.”

He leaves me there in a room both musky and silent. Locked up and put into a strange position in the corner seems fitting for a pawn with no past and no future. My endless state of forced ignorance and innocence is exhausting, and I’m left wishing Calvin had never saved me from my fall.