Chapter 35 - Nothing to Lose

The pale fingers of dawn traced the edge of the window. She stood behind the couch, wanting to rest her hands on his shoulders, hesitating lest she wake him. He tilted his head and opened his eyes.

"Come to bed." She held out her hand. He let her lead him to the bedroom, her hand light on his. Everything was neat, orderly, empty. He took a deep breath.

"It's okay," she said. They lay down on top of the covers and fell asleep.

---------------------

The ringing of church bells woke him. He stared at the ceiling, cataloging his injuries – mostly bruises, none bad. He sat up, waiting for a wave of dizziness that did not come. When he stood, pain shot through his knee. He groaned, reaching for the headboard to steady himself. Deira stirred and opened one eye.

"How bad is it?" she slurred.

He pulled himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. Careful steps got him across the room without falling. He leaned on the doorframe, breathing heavily.

"Let me help you." She rolled out of bed.

"I am fine," he lied. He hobbled to the bathroom and closed the door.

Four bottles of painkillers were lined up on the sink next to a glass. Everything else had been cleared out. Details.

The scent of coffee drew him to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter, her back to him, looking out over the yard. The coffee maker dribbled and hissed, too slow for his needs.

He opened the freezer and removed a bag of frozen peas. He limped to the chair, lowering himself gingerly to keep his knee from popping. He propped his foot on the other chair and applied the makeshift ice pack. Eyes closed, he waited for the combination of drugs and cold to bring relief.

"I'm sorry I hurt you." She set a cup of coffee in front of him.

"As am I." He sipped the coffee, a taste of heaven in a cup. It was the only salvation he would know. The church bells had stopped ringing.

"We've got some things to sort out," she said.

"Nicky would have called if she had news of Sticks." He purposely ignored her intent.

She sighed. "She'll be waiting for us to call." She handed him his phone. "You do it."

He checked in with his service, then had them place the call. Several seconds passed before Nicky picked up.

"About time." Despite precautions, she had identified the call.

"We had trouble sleeping."

"I'll bet."

"Nicola," he growled.

"Chill. If you're calling to check on the old man, relax. He's stable. Won't be up and about for awhile, but that's what happens when you shoot yourself in the side." She gave him enough information to confirm the hospital had believed their story. He passed the news on to Deira.

"About the mishap on the job," he started.

"What mishap?"

"I was unable to fulfill the contract." The admission irritated him. He had never failed to finish a job before.

"Taken care of," she said with relish.

"How?"

"Turn on any cable news station. Call me back in half an hour." She disconnected. He stared at the phone, then set it down. Deira didn't have a TV.

She set the laptop on the table and went to refill their cups while he found a news web site. He carefully moved his leg so she could sit. Then they stared, unable to speak, while the video played. The ticker ran underneath, augmenting the story in truncated sentences. None of it made any sense. In the corner of the screen, time counted down, promising more details.

The politician stepped up to a lectern, reporters jostling for position on the stairs below, and began his story. A major pump ring had been broken up. Raid planned for months, several agencies cooperating. Street value. Forced labor. Police under fire. Four killed. More injured. Explosions. Attempt to destroy evidence. Cavuto arrested, held without bail.

The words blended, creating a detailed fantasy. They glanced at each other, then back to the screen. The politician took questions. He practically glowed. Gage closed the browser and let out the breath he had held for too long.

Deira found her voice. "What just happened?"

"Nicky did."

---------------------

She left him to check the news wires. The stories were consistent. It was over. She set her suitcase by the door, took their cups from the table, and washed them.

"Can I leave the rest of the clean up for you?" She dried her hands and hung up the dish towel.

"You are ready to leave?"

"That was the plan. I figure I'd best get out before some enterprising fire inspector turns up with lab results that unravel," she waved her hand towards the table, "whatever that was."

"I do not think it will happen that way." He shifted in the chair and closed the computer.

"Doesn't really matter, does it? The job is done. It's time for me to go."

"I bought you a plane ticket."

"Did you." She gave him a level look.

"Do you want to know the destination?"

"No. I'm not getting on a plane, so I hope that ticket is transferable."

"You need to leave the country," he argued.

"No. What I need is to go home."

"Which is where?"

She said nothing. He didn't need to know.

"You may still be in danger. Cavuto answered to someone, and they will not be pleased."

"Everyone who knew my connection to Cavuto is dead or in no position to bargain with that information. I don't care if there's some asshole who may or may not have it out for me. At this point, I have nothing to lose."

"There is always something to lose."

"Right up until there's not." She looked away. "Are you going to give me a ride to a used car dealer, or do I have to call a cab?"

Supporting his weight on the edge of the table, he stood. He winced as his knee straightened. He walked steadily to the door and held it open for her. She picked up his computer and her suitcase and walked out.

---------------------

He waited in the parking lot while she registered her truck. Manny had assured him it would run for several years, at least. She had chosen well. A small, old SUV with dated, two-tone paint drew little attention. She would probably trade it before she got to her destination or very soon after.

She held herself rigid as she made her way through the queue. It meant nothing. Some day, the full extent of what had happened would overwhelm her. He knew she would recover, but she would never forget. That was the price.

"It's done," she said, getting in and closing the door. She turned to look at him. "Thank you."

He nodded. "I'll take you back."

Manny waved as they pulled in. Her truck sat out in front, freshly washed. One of the mechanics came over to attach the license plates while she transferred her belongings.

He leaned against the truck. She walked towards him, hesitated, then stepped up.

"So this is goodbye," he said.

She nodded. "Thanks for the loan."

"And the rest?" he asked.

"Figure out what I owe you and give the rest to Nicky. She set up an account for me." She opened her mouth to say more but closed it again, looking down.

"In case I did not survive," he finished for her.

"I'm glad you did." She leaned in and kissed him on both cheeks. "Doviđenja," she whispered, then got into her truck.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of her engine to fade.

---------------------

Nicky sat at her desk, waiting. When the last transfer was confirmed, she reached over and shut off her machine. Everyone had gotten what they'd asked for, and she was still breathing. She unplugged the external hard drive and put it in her safe. Tomorrow, it would go in a safe deposit box. Then she could wipe her hard drives and start over. If only it were that easy.

Her phone rang. She had known he would call. He never let anything go.

---------------------

They sat at a table in the back of her favorite restaurant. Nicky had insisted he reserve this particular table, in a quiet room near the back. He suspected she'd done it to buy time; it was a popular spot for private parties.

She fidgeted throughout the meal. He had not felt the need to mention the double contract, preferring to let her think he would collect at a later time. She would eventually figure out that he had let it go. He needed the few friends he had, and for the moment, only she and Sticks qualified.

He poured the rest of the wine and sat back, turning his glass in his hand, savoring the color. He took a sip, letting the taste run over his tongue. He had been right; it was a good year.

"She hasn't contacted you."

"No."

Nicky laughed. "That's really not working for you, is it?"

"It does not bother me."

"Good thing you aren't in marketing. You couldn't sell that if your life depended on it. Well, maybe if." She was enjoying this.

"Believe what you wish. I have other pursuits."

"You always do," she said. "But here's the problem. That girl woke something in you, and you're searching for a way to feed it. That's what this dinner is about."

"Did you think so?" He set down the empty glass.

"Oh, I know it. You're wound so tight you're going to snap, and that never works out well. So do what you need to do to get her out of your system, but you won't be doing it with me."

"My only concern is that she remains a loose end. I do not like those."

"There's nowhere she can go where she can't be found," she said.

"That is part of the problem."

"I mean found by me. She'll be careful not to show up on the general radar."

"She is reckless."

"Not as reckless as you think. She has two ways to go. She can make a lot of noise and get killed. Or she can stay quiet and alive. That's it. She's going to live or die and there's not a lot you can do about it now." She sat back, head tilted. "Except kill her if you think it's necessary."

"I am trying to avoid that, but she is keeping the option on the table by staying in the country."

"Look, she needed to go home and make peace with her father. She needed to say good-bye. After that, no matter where she goes, I can find her. Unless she decides to go off the grid and eschew all modern technology and banking, and we both know she's not the sort to go live off the land."

He nodded, but it was as if he had not heard her.

"You feel like finding the girl, let me know and I'll make it happen."

"Would you?" he asked.

"For a fee." She smiled. She didn't need his money. "I'd curse you for a fool, but I'd do it."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." She shook her head in disgust. "You made me go and say it. Couldn't figure that out on your own. I don't know why I put up with you at all."

"Because I love you," he said.

"I know. You're the worst best friend a girl can have."

"You would not have it any other way. Normal people bore you."

"Go ahead, rub it in, asshole. I'm going to take my very rich, very exciting self home and take a bubble bath. Don't call me unless you have a job that's worth my time."

She dropped her napkin on the table and left him with the check. He smiled and picked it up. He had gotten what he wanted, and for once, the price he would pay was small.