Dirty Power (9 page)

“Fuck, Coop. Half your stitches are gone. That shit is gross.”

Breno put the bandage back in place.

“She tore some in Vegas. The rest, I believe, are from the tussle with Joan. Although I don’t remember this much damage. Did you do anything that would tear them since Vegas?” Breno asked.

I had. I’d fucked his daughter and lost two stitches. Then, when I climbed into Joan’s house and carried her toddler around, I’d lost a couple more. But I’d just mopped up the blood and ignored it.

“Maybe when I climbed into the house.”

“You hid them from me,” Breno said.

“Not on purpose. I just didn’t want more stitches,” I mumbled.

“Too bad.” Ryan sat at the table and put his hand on my shoulder. “Go get whatever supplies you need,” he said to Breno. “I’ll keep her here.”

Breno nodded and disappeared through the doorway.

“Fuck you,” I said to Ryan.

“Blow me.”

Breno came back with a plastic first aid kit. He washed his hands. Spread a piece of gauze on the table. Started laying out instruments. I wasn’t having this. Or maybe I was. Damn. He put on latex gloves. And pulled off a long strip of dental floss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Breno closed the floss and tossed the small container down.

“Yeah, what’s with the floss?” Ryan asked.

“What did you expect me to use? Thread?” Breno asked. Then he and Christopher laughed.

“It’s not like it’s mint flavored,” Christopher said. “It’s sanitary. And it won’t break off into little infectious threads.”

“Damn.” That sounded logical. I reached over and took Ryan’s hand. He squeezed reassuringly.

“Want some booze?” Ryan asked.

“We’ll see,” I said.

“This will hurt,” Breno warned me.

He was right. It hurt like a bitch.

*

I don’t know how long I had been asleep before I felt the bed dip as someone climbed in next to me. I grunted. It was the best greeting my sleep-drugged mind could come up with.

“I heard you smacked a bitch,” Ryan said. “Not a tussle,” he imitated Breno. “But straight up smacked a bitch.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Christopher and Reese talked. They only loathe each other now, instead of being mortal enemies.”

“Good.”

“You can go back to sleep now,” he said.

“’Kay.”

And I did.

I hadn’t had the dream since I’d found Ryan. My subconscious had been blissfully quiet. I hadn’t really thought about it either. It’s strange how easily nightmares can be ignored when you don’t want to face them. But they always come back. Always. Until you deal, I guess. I hadn’t dealt, though.

It was the same as always. Blood seeping into my shoes, sucking at my feet, seeping between my toes. It climbed my body, weighed me down. I waded, swam, lunged for Reese. The gun. That fucking piece of shit gun. I pointed it at Tommy. It turned on Reese. She was silent. In death. In recrimination. Her cool gray eyes glaring even after the life had gone from them.

“Please, please, I’m sorry. Come back. I’m sorry.”

“Coop, Coop. Wake the fuck up.” Warm arms were around me. A muscled body pressed close. My tears streamed into a warm, soft shoulder. He held me close and rocked me. “It’s okay. I got you. It’s okay.”

“Shit.” I sniffled. My throat was raw. I must have been screaming.

“What the hell?”

“Fucking dream.”

“Dream? What the fuck kind of nightmares are you having?” Ryan asked softly.

“They…It started in Mexico. After…”

“Tommy.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Shit. What’s it about?”

And I started to talk. Didn’t even consider not telling him. It was time. I told about the first dream and how Reese ignored me. I told him about the pot farm in Mexico. How Marco had covered for me. How fuckin’ terrified I’d been. How terrified I was of myself.

It started slow. A jumble of thoughts and images that made no sense. Then they began to take form. I found the chronology. I remembered the names of the men Esau had killed. I told Ryan how I had watched them slowly die, kept alive by the hope that they might make it through the night. But Esau didn’t leave survivors.

Ryan didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. At that point, I was just spilling my story. Like blood falling to a cement floor. Tentative drips at the first cut, gushing by the last, until the heart ceases to beat and there is nothing left except a cooling body.

I stopped crying at some point, started again at another. Felt the tension begin to drain as my tears mingled with his sweat. He didn’t stop me when he started to cry. He just rested his cheek against the top of my head and let my hair dry his tears.

When I told him about Alexis, he tensed up. By the time I got to the trafficking, his muscles were so tight it was like leaning against a wall. Good. I was glad someone else was as horrified as I had been.

This time when I told him about Christopher and Breno, I didn’t gloss over details. There was no need to protect myself or them. I wasn’t arguing for some relationship between father and children that would never come to fruition. ’Cause there was just me and Ryan.

We fell asleep like that. With the afternoon sun slanting across our bodies, warm in the aftermath of the truth.

I wasn’t asleep long. The sun hadn’t moved. Neither had Ryan. For the first time in a very long time, I was content. No, not content. Calm maybe. Everything had been drained from me. In a good way. It would come back. I knew it would come back. But I felt like Ryan had started a wall between me and the past. Maybe I could keep it at bay, let it slowly slip away until I was me again. Maybe.

I couldn’t tell right away why I had woken up, but then I heard it. Soft breathing, hitched with tears. Reese.

She was somewhere. I could feel her now. I looked around the room. She wasn’t there. The hallway. Carefully, I extricated myself from Ryan’s grasp. Found the jeans I’d been wearing for two days. Pulled them on. The door creaked when I opened it. The small cracks seemed deafening as they echoed down the hallway.

Reese looked up when she heard the noise. She was sitting on the floor, her back to the wall. Her cheeks were wet.

“I…I’m sorry.” She pushed herself up. “I wasn’t trying to listen in.” She turned and started to walk away. “I just heard screaming. And I…I swear I wasn’t trying to listen in.” Her voice was so low I could barely hear her.

“Wait.”

She stopped but didn’t turn. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You should be. You should be livid that we dragged you into this. Left you to those bastards. You should be so mad.” Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her head down. “So mad.”

“I’m not.” I didn’t know if I was lying. I’d yelled at Ryan only two weeks before for presuming to take my grief and anger.

“Well, I am.”

“Come here,” I said. She didn’t move. “Just turn around, please.” I could have gone to her, but somehow I knew that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Reese glanced over her shoulder. Unclenched one fist. Held her hand out to me. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Come with me.”

I took a step forward and slid my palm against hers. She tugged lightly, pulled me down the hallway. We passed the open study. The computer on the desk was still on. We went into the kitchen. Christopher and Breno were playing in the living room with Emma. I could hear faint giggles. They didn’t notice us. Joan was silent up in her small prison. Probably sleeping. Or nursing her bruised ribs. We went out the sliding door, through the backyard this time instead of over the fence.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Reese didn’t answer. Just led me down the beach. I didn’t ask any more questions. I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t care. We must have walked a mile before Reese broke her silence. Or maybe it just felt that way. Walking on sand is hard.

“I should have asked about the scars.”

“What?” I knew what she had said. I don’t know why I wanted her to repeat it.

“The scars. You’re covered in fuckin’ scars. I should have asked. I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have told you,” I said. “I didn’t want you to know about them.”

“I can’t blame you. I wouldn’t have told me either.” Reese let go of my hand. I’d forgotten we were even holding hands, but I still felt the sudden loss.

“It wasn’t about you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

She laughed. A hard, raw sound. “You thought I wouldn’t care. Don’t lie.”

“No. That wasn’t it.” Even as I said it, I realized she was right. Sort of. I’d been afraid she wouldn’t care.

“I don’t blame you. After the way I treated you in Mexico.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to say.

“Fuck.” She turned and walked toward the water. “Damn it.” And then she started to cry. Again.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I followed her. Put my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not okay. It’s not.”

It wasn’t, but I lied anyway. “Really, it is.”

Reese spun and stared me down. “Damn it, Coop. Stop trying to make me feel better. I knew you were all fucked up and I just left you to deal on your own.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“There are a thousand things I could have, should have done. I didn’t. So please don’t pacify me,” she said.

“What do you want me to do? Get mad? I did just as much damage to myself. You can’t blame yourself for all of it.” I was too damn tired to blame anyone anymore. It was easier to forget. Or maybe it was easier to acknowledge that it had happened—like I had earlier with Ryan—and just move on. Yeah, that was it. I couldn’t change the past. I couldn’t change what I had done. But maybe I could let it go.

“What are you talking about? I dragged you into this shit.”

“Stop it,” I said.

“What?”

“You didn’t drag me. I wanted to be with you guys. You couldn’t have stopped me.”

“I should have tried. You didn’t know who we were going up against. I did.” She clenched her hands at her side again.

“I knew when I went to Vito.” As I said the words, I got mad. At myself. I’d known Vito was a douche bag. And I’d thrown myself on his altar. What the fuck had I been thinking? “I could have walked away. I thought about it every day. But I didn’t. It was my damn choice. And I stayed. So all that fucked up shit I did and saw, that was on me.” I stepped close to her. “Don’t delude yourself, buttercup.”

“Why the fuck did you stay?” she shouted. “Seriously. What the fuck were you thinking?”

I knew the answer to her question. It wasn’t a good answer. Not for this conversation.

“Answer me, damn it.” She kinda looked like she wanted to deck me.

“You.”

“What?” She stepped back.

“I was thinking of you.” I stepped closer again.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not blaming you. But I knew the only way to find you was to stay with Vito and wait for you to find me.” I’d needed her to want me enough to come back, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Why?”

I only had one response. I pulled her against me and held tight. Reese put her hands on my stomach and tried to push me away. But I slid my arms around her and locked my arms until she stopped struggling.

It took a while. First, she let one hand drop. Then, the other. She turned so her shoulder was digging into my chest. I didn’t let go. Finally, reluctantly, she relaxed into me. After a very long minute, she gave up and put her arms around my waist.

It had been so long since I’d actually held her. She felt good. Smelled good. And it wasn’t just her. It was the way she pressed against me. Like we were supposed to be like that. She felt right.

Maybe we should have kept arguing. Yelled until we both felt better. But we didn’t need to. I didn’t think we needed to. It was as if when she finally let me hold her we just decided not to have that circular argument. Again.

“Should we go back?” Her face was buried in my neck so her voice was muffled.

“Probably. Where else would we go?”

“Well…”

“What?” I asked.

“I was gonna kidnap you and hide you somewhere until this shit was over with.”

She’d tried before so I knew she was serious. I probably shouldn’t have laughed. But I did.

“What?” she asked.

“How were you planning on doing that?” I let go of her. Only enough so I could lean back and look at her within the circle of my arms.

“Well…umm. I was going to take you to Joan’s boat. Go somewhere else. Then I’d come back and wait till it was safe for you to join us.”

“Really?” And I laughed again.

“What?”

I dropped my hands to her ass, squeezed a little. Then I felt her front pockets. Then I patted my own. “Neither of us have keys to the boat or any of the cars. And we don’t have money or anything.”

“So? I would have figured it out.” She looked a little pouty.

“Peanut butter, I’m not even wearing shoes.”

She started laughing. “Okay. Maybe I didn’t think it through.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think I like you.” She dropped her arms and stepped back. But then she took my hand.

“Liar,” I said.

“Maybe.” She smiled.

Damn, I loved that girl.

*

“Where’d you go?” Ryan asked when we got back. He was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee.

Reese smiled. Like really smiled at him. “We walked.” She squeezed my hand.

“Cool.” He glanced at our hands. Smiled big. “Breno wanted you to tell Joan she’s only kinda broke,” he said to me.

“Why?”

Ryan shrugged. “I dunno. Consistency?”

“All right. Where is he?” I asked.

“Breno?”

“Yeah.”

“I think he’s sleeping upstairs. Christopher is with Emma.”

“I’m hungry,” I said.

“Bro.” Ryan.

“I’m sure we can find something to eat.” Reese went to look in the fridge. We were still holding hands and I didn’t want to let go so I went too.

“Pizza.” Ryan.

“Yeah,” I said.

“There’s no pizza in here.” Reese closed the fridge.

“Order it.” Ryan.

“I don’t know if we should order pizza.” Reese was so smart.

“Oh, probably not.” Now I was sad.

“But we can go pick it up,” she said.

“Pick what up?” Christopher walked into the kitchen with Emma in tow.

“Pizza,” I said.

“Pizza!” Emma yelled.

“Oh, sh―uhhh, shoot. Sorry.”

“Way to go.” Christopher scowled at me.

“What was I supposed to do?” I asked.

“Spell it. D-u-m-b-a-s-s.”

“What? Bass?” I asked. Christopher gave me another death look. I repeated what he had said in my head. “Oh, got it.”

I didn’t know it then, but Christopher and Reese would take to spelling things in front of me. A useless code that gave them endless amusement. It always took me about five minutes to figure out what was going on.

“Pizza,” Emma said again.

“So I guess we are going to pick up pizza,” Reese said.

“Me and Reese can go get it,” I said. Maybe I was a little too eager.

Christopher gave me a sharp look. “Okay,” he said like it wasn’t okay.

“I’ll call it in,” Ryan said.

Joan had a file of menus by her phone. It was all very organized. We waited while Ryan found the menu for a pizza place. Christopher was giving us dirty looks the whole time. I didn’t get what he was so pissed about.

The entire time we were standing there, Reese was running her thumb slowly back and forth over my hand. It felt good. Like I wanted to crawl into a bed with her and not leave for a really long time. I also wanted to push her up against the fridge and kiss her until…just kiss her.

Maybe we could take the long route to pick up the pizza.

“Why are you all standing in the kitchen?” Breno asked from the doorway.

“Ryan’s ordering pizza. We’re going to pick it up,” Reese said.

“Did you talk to Joan yet?” Breno asked me.

“Oh, no. Not yet.”

“You should.”

“Now?” I may have sounded a little whiny.

“Why not?” he asked. Because I want to hold your daughter’s hand and then do dirty things to her. But I didn’t say that. “Go now. Ryan can go with Reese to pick up pizza. They will be back by the time you are finished.”

“Fine.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

I walked out of the kitchen. Reese walked with me. We weren’t letting go till we had to. Breno shot a look at our held hands and scrunched up his eyes a little. Not in a judging way. Not yet. More in a curious way.

We stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“Have fun getting pizza,” I said. I felt like we were saying good-bye. We weren’t.

“Don’t have fun talking to Joan.”

“I won’t.” I grinned.

“Okay.”

“Reese, you ready to go?” Ryan had crept up behind us.

“Yeah, I just…yeah.” Reese took a step back. Started to let go of my hand. I pulled her toward me and kissed her lightly on the lips.

“See you in a sec,” I said.

“Yeah.” She smiled.

*

When I opened the door to the bathroom, Joan scooted back against the wall. She couldn’t go far.

“What do you want now?” she asked.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” I leaned against the counter.

“Screw you.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“My head is bleeding and my ribs are broken.” Joan tried to kill me with a look.

“If they were broken you wouldn’t be able to sit there. They’re probably only cracked.”

“Thanks, I feel much better now.”

“Fuck you. I came here to play nice,” I said.

“No, you came here to kidnap my child and rip me off.”

“You ripped us off first.” She didn’t have a response to that. “Here’s the deal. Apparently, you’re good with money. Like, two point five mill in six months, good.”

“And?” She scowled at me.

“And we’re not monsters.”

“Sorry, what? My concussion must be disrupting my hearing.”

“Fuck this. Maybe we’ll just take Emma and leave you to rot, bitch.” I pushed off the counter and opened the door.

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, we can.”

“No, please. Please, Cooper. I’m sorry.”

I closed the door and leaned against it. “Are you done with the snarky, bitchy shit?”

“Yes. Please, just let us go. I’ll give you all the money.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” I said.

“What?”

“The money you made. And the houses. The car, the boat.”

“What about them?” she asked.

“We’re going to take fifteen million. You get to keep everything else.”

Her eyes got big. “Why? What’s the catch?”

“We call it even. You don’t try for revenge. You don’t follow us or come after us. ’Cause I really, really never want to see you again.”

“That’s it? Call it even?” she asked.

“Yeah, we’ll call the broken ribs payment.”

“Deal.”

“Awesome.”

“Will you unchain me now?”

“Yeah. And Breno will check out your head if you want.” I leaned down and unlocked the cuffs. As a gesture of trust, I unlocked and unwound the series of chains and padlocks Breno had woven around the toilet. No wonder Joan was bitchy. Breno had done some Boy Scout shit on that. The chains were so tight I was surprised she had even been able to sit up.

“Thank you.” It sounded forced, but at least Joan was faking pleasantries.