13 Rounds Page 2

  That I have to start questioning make actions, my decisions, and learn to make better ones.

  What to do?

  What do I do?

  What do I FUCKING do?

  A loud thud rings out in the distance and pulls me from my reverie. I tear my eyes away from the wet, tarred street and watch a round, shadowy figure across from me toss a large, full black trash bag into the brown, rusted dumpster.

  Then I hear something…

  A soft whisper…

  A name carried on the tail-end of the wind.

  It’s beautiful, melodic.

  Stepping away from the street lamp, taking a few steps to the right. “Hello,” I call out. I get no response, but hear the name again.

  The sound is closing in on me.

  Followed by familiarity.

  My name.

  Someone is calling my name. It’s too faint and too distant for me to be able to make out if it’s a man or a woman.

  “Hello!” This time I raise my voice.

  As I lurch closer, I reach behind me, wrapping my fingers around my gun and squeeze the handle.

  Fuck this…

  It’s always the mother-fucking cowards that sneak up behind you. They don’t fire at you until you have your back turned. I’ve never been a coward. If I’m going to aim my weapon at someone, I’m damn well going to do it to their face and point it right between their eyes. Now pulling the trigger, that’s a completely different story.

  I know this seems kind of soft, but I don’t think anyone deserves to die. I mean when it comes to the brotherhood, you come in contact with plenty of shady people. Me, I tend to be more lenient when it comes to assassinating people. Connie…

  That man would shoot a toddler if he thought it would benefit him in some way.

  Sometimes thinking about it makes me sick.

  A figure appears in the distance…

  A soft silhouette.

  Pale skin…

  Recently high-lighted hair.

  She colored her hair dark for a while. Mostly because of everything that happened before. She made mention that she was going to high-light it and I shrugged and told her, “I think you’re beautiful either way.”

  It doesn’t matter what she does to her appearance or how her body changes or if she gets old and wrinkled or even gains weight. None of that matters to me. I’ll always think she’s beautiful. And when she walks into a room and I see her, I know she’ll always make my heart race.

  I guess that’s what loving someone does to a man.

  Their irritating habits become adorable.

  When they’re angry they become sexy.

  You morph into some whipped bitch, a slightly better version of your badass self.

  “Hadlee!” My voice is laced with confusion and I pick up speed, jogging toward her. I don’t understand. I can’t comprehend. How did she know where I was? Did she follow me here? She doesn’t belong here. It’s not safe. “Hadlee!”

  She starts walking faster and when I can make out her face a wide, vibrant smile spreads across her lips. I fight back the smile I can feel forming on my face and start sprinting…

  Then, all of a sudden it feels like everything is happening in slow motion.

  Tires squeal.

  An old black Lincoln whips around the corner.

  The smile drops from Hadlee’s lips and she looks over her shoulder at the car, confused.

  Me, I’m running as fast as I can. I’m grabbing my gun and palming it. I’m watching in horror as the windows to the Lincoln go down and a man with a machine gun sticks the barrel out the window.

  I am screaming.

  I am screaming.

  Hadlee starts crying and I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel like all of the air has been sucked from my lungs by a vacuum and the only thing I can think about is running faster, getting to her before shots go off.

  “HELP ME!” she shrieks. “HELP ME!”

  The Lincoln rolls past her slowly. I see the bullets flash as they leave the gun. My eyes snap to Hadlee as she screams and hunches over in a ball on the sidewalk. Dots of crimson line her shirt and my stomach lurches.

  I’ve seen plenty of people die.

  I’ve seen plenty of people get shot at, but this is different.

  This feeling is different.

  A rage I’ve never experienced takes over me. I’m blind to anything and everything. I can feel the veins in my neck pulsating and bulging. I can feel all of my skin over-heating. My jaw locks and my teeth clamp down so hard I swear I almost bite off a piece of my tongue.

  I am shaking.

  I am shaking so violently my finger keeps slipping off the trigger of my gun.

  I need to stay calm.

  Keep focused.

  So I take a deep breath.

  Crack my neck.

  Roll my shoulders.

  Then wait for the Lincoln to roll past me. And when it’s diagonal to me, I see Connie’s face half hidden by the shadows, but I can make out the sadistic smile he’s wearing. My stomach twists and I think about yakking all over the pavement.

  I swallow hard and opt for a better idea.

  I aim at him, slide my pointer finger over the trigger and shoot that son of a bitch right between the eyes.

  Chapter 4

  ~Hadlee~

  There are limbs flailing in my face.

  Sean is screaming at the top of his lungs.

  The whole bed is shaking.

  “NO!!!!” Sean’s loud voice fills the room. “NO!!!”

  I sit up in a panic and wrap my arms around Sean’s torso. I place my lips against his ear. “Shhh, baby. It’s okay. You’re having a nightmare.” My voice is soothing, almost a hum. He’s had nightmares like this before over the last couple months and my reaction always seems to calm him down.

  The first time I did this, he hopped out of bed, taking all other covers with him, glared at me, and shouted, “The fuck are you doing?”

  I responded with, “I am comforting you. Lie back down. It’s alright.”

  He looked at me confused for a few minutes then hesitantly got back into bed. He later apologized for his reaction and explained that he wasn’t used to that kind of behavior. I expected that. This is why his initial reaction didn’t make me angry.

  I know what it feels like to need somebody.

  I know what it’s like to want to have that one person who can help piece yourself back together. Lara was that person for me. Well and Satine. The best thing about therapy is being able to talk about the things you’d rather not talk about to just anybody. I divulge a little to Sean here and there, but it’s not the same.

  I know the whole attack wasn’t my fault. I know that it was just a wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing, but still I have moments where I feel so dirty. I can talk to Satine about these times and she never looks at me any different. She never judges me. Not that Sean and Lara would, but still. Sometimes the opinion of an unbiased thirty party is best.

  Sean settles back underneath the covers and I scoot back into him. He lays his arm over my waist and kisses my shoulder blade. I feel his heart beat against my back and let out a calming breath. These moments between us are my favorite.

  There’s no hidden agenda.

  It’s not about sex.

  It’s about love…

  Tenderness.

  And it feels so real.

  Sean breathes into my hair. He lets out a soft hum while I stare into the darkness. I’m one of those people that has a difficult time falling back to sleep once I’m awake. “Sean?”

  “Yes.” There’s sluggish tone to his voice that tells me half asleep.

  I close my eyes. “Never mind.”

  “No,” he starts, “no. Come on.” He groans and pulls away from me.

  I contort my body, trying to make out his face in the darkness. “You’re tired. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

  “Nope. You know I hate when you do that.”

  This is true. He tells
me all the time he hates when I start to say something and don’t spit it out.

  “Okay,” I tell him. “What was your dream about?”

  I wonder this a lot. He has had these dreams often over the past couple months, but he never tells me what they’re about. In fact, there is a lot he doesn’t tell me and just once I want him to answer me.

  “It was just a nightmare, Hadlee. A lot of people have them. Nothing to be concerned about.”

  He’s lying. Sure, a lot of people have nightmares, but his are violent. One time he almost socked me in the jaw. “Tell me, Sean.” There’s urgency in my tone. “Tell me.” I wonder if he knows I’m not going to let it go until he gives me an answer.

  His frustrated groan fills up the small bedroom. I watch him with an intense glare and he raises his arm and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes. I do.” I raise my voice a little bit so he knows I mean business.

  “Hadlee, just drop it okay.”

  I bunch my nose up. He’s starting to upset me. I always have to deal with him leaving at night without an explanation. I’m always have to put aside our time so he can take calls from this ‘Connie’ guy. Once… just once I want more than a ‘just drop it’ or ‘don’t worry about it.’ “No,” I say with force. “No.”

  “Fine,” he snaps, “fine. You really want to know that bad, huh?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  He pauses for a second.

  Shifts in the bed.

  Moves his hand to his side.

  Then says, “You died.”

  ~~~

  The coffee shop is pretty dead.

  Ryan is the back doing inventory and I’m putting the finishing touches on Lara’s iced coffee while she waits at the counter.

  “It was just a nightmare, Lee.” Lara says as I walk over to her and slide her iced latte across the counter. She picks it up, bites down on the straw with her teeth, sipping on it.

  Sometimes on her break she visits me at work. She’s still working at the perfume store and I like that we work in the same vicinity. I like that she comes to visit me. And I’m sure she likes coming to see me for the free drinks.

  “I know,” I tell her. “I know, but it’s still disturbing.” I’ve heard that dreams can be some kind of subliminal message. Part of me believes in this. Once, when I was younger I had a dream that I was going to ace a spelling test and wouldn’t you know, a week later I got that A. “I think it just bother because what if he’s dreaming about me dying every time he has a nightmare?” That’s got to mean something, right?

  Lara shrugs. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even worry about it. You’ve got enough going on.”

  I know she’s right. On top of my new and mysterious relationship, I’ve got drama at work with Ryan. Ever since my birthday he’s been adamant on giving me all of the shitty shifts. Of course I don’t tell Sean this, mainly because I know what the end result would be.

  Ryan losing a couple teeth.

  Maybe acquiring a black eye.

  A few broken bones.

  I go on, “Sometimes I wonder if he’s involved in something bad.”

  Lara gives me an odd yet wary look. She lifts an eyebrow. “Who Sean?” Her voice goes up an octave.

  “No,” I roll my eyes and say with sarcasm, “the postman. Have you not been listening to a thing that I’ve said?”

  She removes the straw from her mouth and purses her lips. Her eyes flash irritation and I think that maybe I should have cooled it on the smart-ass comment. “Of course I was listening and do you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you’re being completely and absolutely ridiculous and worrying about all of this for nothing. You’re only stressing yourself out more.”

  “You’re right,” I agree.

  She is right about the whole nightmare thing. But when it comes to the things I know Sean is hiding from me, that’s a different story.

  And what scares me is that I don’t know how much more of that I can take.

  Chapter 5

  ~Connie~

  The sun sat high in the sky shining vibrantly. The powder blue, cloudless sky-line stretched on for miles and miles.

  These were the type of days where Connie enjoyed taking a brisk walk. You see, he needed the walk. He needed to be outside. To feel the sun rain down on his pale skin. To feel the cool breeze as it whipped through the trees and washed over him. More than anything he needed the walk because had a lot on his mind and he needed to clear his head.

  As if that was a simple task.

  There was too much confusion going on within the brotherhood involving the alleged rat.

  The dirty, stinking, female rat.

  Over the past week, he’d sent Aidan to the abandoned warehouse basement of where was keeping her to question her. At least several times. Connie had to give it to her, if she was a male she’d make an excellent addition to the brotherhood because the bitch was tough. Aidan got nothing from her.

  She wouldn’t budge.

  Not a peep.

  This led Connie to question his judgment of Teagan Reilly. What if he had been wrong? That was a difficult question for him to absorb because he was never wrong.

  Never.

  When he got a particular gut feeling he acted and his gut never led him in the wrong direction.

  He shook his head and rounded the corner, stopping directly in front of Seany’s condo. He had Aidan drive him to Sean’s neighborhood purposely, hoping that maybe he’d be able to catch the boy-o so that they could have a little chat. But when he knocked, no one appeared to be home. It was then that he decided on the walk and thought he’d wait around a bit and that maybe Sean would be home when he was finished.

  His thoughts shifted back to Teagan as he approached the black Lincoln parked diagonal to the four-plex. She had been threatening that Sean would snap if he ever found out that Connie had taken her. Connie knew this was true. Brotherhood or not, Connie knew where Sean’s true loyalty lied and that was with the only, living blood relative he had left.

  It was until he tapped on the roof of the town-car and Aidan opened his door that he caught sight of the boy-o walking into the four-plex holding the hand of an attractive little number.

  And Connie was dead set on finding out just who that attractive little number was.

  ~~~

  Teagan’s stomach howled out pains of hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything. Either that or she thought her mind was truly beginning to play tricks on her.

  She knew with certainty that the last time she had anything to drink was over 24 hours ago. Aidan had come to question her for what was at least the fourth time that week. As he poured the water into her mouth and she choked it down she cried out, “Help me.” She coughed as the cool liquid coated her raw throat. “Help me.”

  Aidan had brought with him a flash-light and when he grazed the beam across her face she could see the pained look on his. She knew that he wanted to help her. She knew from the kindness that he showed her when he came to question her that he didn’t approve of what Connie was doing to her. “Please, Aidan,” she’d begged him. “Please.” If she had been unbound she knew that she would have hit her knees and clutched his leg. That’s how desperate she had become. Never, in a million years did she think she’d ever resort to begging, but desperate times call for desperate actions.

  It wouldn’t have been any use anyway because the only answer Aidan had for had been, “I can’t.”

  Teagan knew deep, down in her gut that that was what he’d say. She knew he wouldn’t cross the king-pin of the brotherhood, especially if he valued his life. And it was at that exact moment that all hope for her seemed to blow out the non-existent window.

  Suddenly she started to feel dizzy. She started dry heaving. All of her strength was gone. All of the fight in her had vanished. Now, all she had left was uncertainty because she didn’t know when or if she’d make it out of
the situation alive.

  Chapter 6

  ~Sean~

  After last night, it makes me pretty fucking happy that my day has gone smoothly.

  First training, then lunch with Murph. It was nice to see the big ol’ bastard. I feel like we haven’t had the opportunity to see in each other in months. Well, sit downs don’t can’t. There was one a week ago, but neither one of us really got the chance to catch up.

  And I wouldn’t even consider it a real sit down. It was basically an hour of Connie raving about the Italians still continuing to hoard our turf. I guess some things never change.

  What I did enjoy about chatting with Murph was that he told me he’s got himself a broad.

  “What’s her name?” I asked him. The big bastard’s face got all red and he lowered his eyes when he said, “Marie.”

  I gave him a right jab in the arm and laughed. “And she’s what’s good? Right O’Fallon?”

  Murph just shook his head and pursed his lips. The truth is, I’m happy for the big lug. He’s one of those people that always goes out of his way for everybody else and it’s nice to see people like that find the happiness they deserve.

  We made some more small talk while chowing down on some burritos then I left to pick Hadlee up from work. This is a constant battle between us.

  “I don’t need you to drive me!” she’ll insist. “I can drive my damn self to work!”

  “I’m driving you,” is what I always respond with, “end of story.” The truth is I don’t demand to drive her because I’m trying to keep her from doing her own thing, I drive her because of that slimy prick of a boss she has. He’s always grabbing at her and trying to flirt with her. Even in front of me.

  I tell you what, it takes everything in me not to get out of my car and punch that fucker in the jaw. By the time Hadlee gets into the passenger seat, I’m clenching my jaw and cracking my knuckles. There have been a few times where I commented, “You know, they don’t call me Right-Hook Reilly for nothing.”

  Hadlee just shakes her head, lets out a breath and answers me with, “Control your temper.”