Evan Arden 05 Irrevocable (20 page)

Rinaldo nods.  He presses his lips together as he pushes the tray table out of his way and sits up a bit more.

“Evan, I need to show you something.  Reach over there and grab those papers.”  He points at a plain manila folder on the table off to his side, and I retrieve it for him.  He opens the folder and takes a deep breath as he thumbs through the papers.  Once he’s found the one he’s looking for, he hands it to me.

It’s a hospital report with a bunch of test results.  I know enough about medicine to recognize those regarding bone reabsorption and endocrine system functioning, but the results mean nothing to me.

“What is this?”

“The doctor found something during surgery,” he tells me.

“Found what?”

“Bone fragments.”

I narrow my eyes.

“They operated on your leg.  Of course they found bone fragments.  That’s where you were hit.”

“Bone tissue would be more accurate,” Rinaldo says.  “More precisely, bone tissue in my blood.”

I glare down at the test paper again, trying to make some sense of it.  Rinaldo is obviously trying to tell me something without actually saying the words, but I can’t seem to figure out what it is.  I scan the paper more carefully, reach for the rest of the folder, and read over some of the other tests as Rinaldo watches me closely.

Bone in blood—I can see the results from other tissue samples, but they are normal.  It isn’t actually bone but something similar, something warped.  On the bottom of the last page, I see the term osteosarcoma, and my body goes cold.

“Bone cancer,” I say quietly.

“Exposure to oxygen when they operated has accelerated its growth.”  Rinaldo’s voice is calm and factual.  “It’s in my blood, endocrine, and lymph systems.  Apparently, all that money I spent at the chiropractor trying to fix my back was pointless.  I should ask for a refund.”

He laughs, but I can’t bring myself to find any humor in his remark.  All I can do is stare at the page as my organs feel as if they are sinking into my feet.  Now that I know what I’m looking for, I can see all the indicators on the test page.

“Maybe they’re wrong.”  I tap my finger against the paper.  “You need to have more testing done.  It could be a mistake—mixed up records.  Hospitals fuck up all the time.”

I meet his eyes, and my chest tightens.

“They saw it during surgery, Evan.  That’s why they did the tests.”

My vision blurs as I stare at the words on the pages.

“Does Lele know?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”  I barely whisper the words.

“Six to eight weeks.  Maybe three months with extensive chemo and radiation, but I’m not doing that.”

“Fuck.”  I close my eyes, fighting the pressure building in my head.  I manage to swallow past the dry lump in my throat, but it takes a lot of effort.  When I look at him, his face is stern.

“There’s a lot to be done in the next couple of months,” he says simply.  “There are some things I need to tell you—places you need to go to retrieve things for Lele, Lucia, and Nick.”

“Things?”  I’m not comprehending what he means.  My mind is spinning in circles, and a wave of nausea hits me.

Rinaldo’s going to die.

Six to eight weeks.

I can’t grasp the idea.  Of all the people I have ever known in the world, I trust Rinaldo the most.  He’s always known what I need, always understood without needing an explanation.  He’s the only one who has ever seen past what I’ve become and understood that there was once someone else inside of me—someone who was lost forever while I was overseas, restrained in a pit.  He understood and accepted there was no changing it.

If he’s gone, what do I have left?

“Stay with me, son.”

“I’m right here, sir.”

“No, you aren’t.  Focus, Evan.”  I look at him, and he’s pointing to his eyes with his fingers.  “Get your shit together.  I need you to be strong for Gabriella and Lucia.”

I’m not together.  I’m nowhere near together.

“I need to start thinking about the future,” Rinaldo says.  “The future of my family, my businesses.  Have a seat and I’ll explain.”

I refuse to sit down.  I can’t even say why it’s important, but if I’m going to be forced to listen to this shit, I’m not going to sit down to do it.

“You know what I’m going to say.”  Rinaldo sits up a little more in the hospital bed and reaches over to a glass to take a sip of water through a straw.  “Lucia can’t handle the pressure—you’ve said that yourself.  What did you think I would do?  Turn all this over to Nick?”

I glare down at him, refusing to answer.  I don’t want to have to tell him about Beni right now—not yet—but I may have to.  I can’t let him start giving everything away to Beni without knowing what’s going on between him and Taylor.

“It’s you, son,” Rinaldo says.  His voice is softer now.  “It was always you.”

I flinch, actually taking a step back from the bed.

“What?”

“There isn’t another choice.  Beni’s not really family, and I want my business to stay in my family.”

“I’m not family,” I remind him.

“Yes, you are.”

“I don’t want it.”

“That’s why you’re perfect for the job.”

No, no, no, no, no!

“I’m just a hit man,” I whisper.  “I can’t do all this.”

“You know you can,” Rinaldo says.  “There’s very little you haven’t already done in some capacity or another.  You have the strength and the will.  You have the respect.  No one will cross you and live to tell about it, and everyone knows that.  You’re a big part of the reason I’ve been as successful as I have.  You are the best man for the job, and I don’t have time to look for another candidate.”

“Rinaldo…”  I don’t know what to say.  I never wanted this.  I
don’t
want this.

Rinaldo is dying.

“Who else can I trust, Evan?  Who else will make sure my family is always taken care of?  They’re giving me weeks, maybe not even that long.”

All I can do is stare at the floor.  I can’t seem to make any of my muscles respond to the commands from my brain.  I hear the creak of the bed as he stands, but it doesn’t quite register until he’s next to me.  He takes my hand.

“Say it, Evan.  Tell me you’ll take over my business and run it right.”

My throat is dry.  I lick at my lips, but it doesn’t seem to provide any moisture.

“Please, Evan.  You’re the only option I have.”

“I’ll do it,” I reply as my stomach seems to fall to my feet.

I really don’t know what else I can do.

My head is still spinning.

I don’t go to Felisa’s funeral.  I can’t bring myself to attend, knowing Rinaldo and Lele would be there.  Instead, I spend the day driving around the city in the spring rain.

There are so many things going through my head, it’s hard to keep track of them all.  Between Beni’s obvious betrayal, the elusive Joshua Taylor, and my apparent takeover of a giant crime family, my brain just can’t cope.

Jonathan keeps calling, but I haven’t answered the phone.  I’m sure he’s found something, and probably something important, but my head is full.  I can’t handle any more information right now.  Besides, my perspective is totally different.

Everything I do has always been about Rinaldo—protecting him, protecting his business, eliminating any threats—and now I have to think about it in completely different terms.  I’ve agreed to it.  I’ve agreed to honor a dying man’s wish.  I’m going to take over the businesses completely, and now those threats are against me.

The problem is, I don’t really care what happens to me.

I don’t care about amassing money.  There’s more money in my offshore accounts and various safe-deposit boxes around the country than I’ll ever manage to spend.  I don’t care if the car shops and the clubs are doing well enough to launder all the money from the illegal businesses.  I don’t care if the books are balanced.  I’ve only cared about one thing—Rinaldo.

What do I do in six to eight weeks when he’s gone?

The only purpose I’ve had since leaving the Marines is going to vanish.  I’ll be in a world that will no longer include the only person I really, truly care about.  The one person I’d lay down my life for without question.  I’m going to lose the one person who has ever called me son.

I end up pulling over and walking around Grant Park.  My hands are shaky, and driving doesn’t seem like a great idea right now.  I wander around in a stupor amongst the flower gardens instead.  There isn’t much growing yet, just a few bulbs with green shoots sticking out of the ground, and there’s hardly anyone around.  The rain has tapered off, but everything is a muddy mess.  A couple of guys shoveling mulch from a pickup are my only company.

My eyes burn, but my face is wet only from the mist.  I can’t bring myself to cry.  If I did, I wouldn’t even know who I was crying for—Rinaldo or myself.

Even with everything else going on, my thoughts keep turning to Alina.  I wonder if she’s got some magic touch that will help me deal with all of this, but I doubt it.

She helps though.  She helps a lot, maybe more than I should let her.

Jonathan was right—I have become a little attached.  Initially it was about the sleep, and then it was about the sex, but the last time we were together, it felt different.  I’m not sure exactly in what way, but definitely different.

And the whole thing about her father…  When I think about it, I see red.  Maybe that’s what I need to do—go take care of him.  I know it isn’t what she wants, but I’m going to do it anyway.  If nothing else, it’s going to make me feel better.

I get back in the car and drive over to Oak Park.  I still have his mug shot on my phone, and the address is easy enough to find.  The apartment is a shithole next to a shabby strip mall in a high-crime area, which is perfect.

I park across the street and just watch the place for a while.  Shortly after four in the afternoon, he emerges.  I watch him walk next door to a liquor store and come out with a bottle in a brown sack.  He heads back into the apartment.

I could just go in there and do it now, be done with it.  I’m still on edge though.  If I do it now, without a formal plan in place, I’m likely to mess something up.  His apartment has a window, but it’s small and there’s no place around here to get into sniping position.  This will have to be more personal.

A plan forms as I drive away.  I need a few tools and a decent night’s sleep first.  I drive over to Alina’s corner, but she’s nowhere in sight.  In fact, I can’t seem to find any of the girls she usually hangs out with either.

I drive around for a full two hours, making my usual stop for gas and cigarettes.  She still isn’t around.  I’m getting hungry, and though I had thought to take her out for dinner, I decide to waste time feeding myself instead.

I eat, but the fast food sits in my stomach like a wad of uncooked dough.  I drive around, and I get more and more frustrated when she doesn’t appear.  I listen to the radio to try to distract myself, but as the time ticks by, the song lyrics start to piss me off.  I slam my fist into the power button and silence the singer.

Finally, I see her.  It’s after midnight, and the rest of the girls are there with her, too.  I pull to the curb, and she comes over to me, smiling as she opens the car door.

I don’t say a word as she gets in.

I’m actually a little afraid to open my mouth.  Instead, I grip the wheel with one hand and throw the Camaro into gear with the other and speed off with my teeth clenched.  Alina grips the handle of the door as I take a corner much too quickly.

We still haven’t spoken as I pull into the parking garage and head to the elevator.  Alina trails behind me, silent and timid.  As soon as we’re inside, I grab her and push her against the wall in the hallway.  Gripping her chin with my hand, I crash my mouth to hers and invade her with my lips and tongue.

Alina brings her hands up to my shoulders and clasps the back of my neck with her fingers.  I feel the pressure from her fingertips.  Knowing what she’s trying to do only annoys me this time and does nothing to relax me.

I expect to find the scent of some man on her, but I don’t.  She smells fresh and clean, like she’s just come from a long, hot shower.  Her mouth is minty.  There’s no clue as to where she’s been or what she’s been doing.

“Get down on your knees.”

She complies instantly as I release my belt.  I stare down at her as I undo the buttons on my jeans.  A few second later, she has my cock in her mouth.  She looks up at me, trying to maintain that devoted cocksucker expression, but I can see the confusion in her eyes.  Even as her tongue circles the head of my dick and her lips wrap around my shaft, I can tell she knows something is wrong.

Maybe it’s guilt.  Maybe it’s because she knows I’ve been out there looking for her for hours.  Maybe she even planned it that way.  She might even consider it some fucked-up version of foreplay while I sit around in my car, waiting my turn.

Who else have you been sucking off tonight?

My heart pounds as sweat forms on my brow.  How many other men have seen that same look from those same, beautiful eyes?  How many others does she comfort every night by letting them come all over her?  How many times tonight?

Where was she?

I lean one hand on the wall and use the other to wind her hair around my wrist.  I glare down at her as I pull at her hair, driving my cock into the back of her throat.  I feel her gag on me, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment as her hands dig into my thighs.  She shoves me with all her strength.

Suddenly realizing exactly what I am doing, I step back, and my cock pops out of her mouth along with a string of saliva.  She coughs and grasps her throat with her hand.

“Evan!  What the hell is wrong with you?”  Alina shifts to one side, but she’s only pinned herself between me and the front door.  She reaches up and wipes the back of her hand over her mouth.

I want to kick her.  I want to pull out a gun and empty the clip into her face.  I can see myself doing it—vividly.  My heart is still beating rapidly, and my stomach starts to churn at the thought.  My throat constricts, and I can’t take in air.  I shove my dick back into my pants and turn away from the sight of her beneath me on the floor.

“Fuck!” I run my hand over my face as I leave her there in the hallway.  I go to the kitchen and lean over the sink, trying to decide if I’m going to heave or not.

“Evan?”

“Just get the fuck out!”  I grab blindly for something to throw, but all I manage to find is a container of liquid dish soap.  I still toss it behind me, but it just ricochets off the island and onto the floor.

“Evan, what is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Leave!”  I squeeze my eyes shut.  I need her to get out of here.  I don’t even know what’s happening to me; I only know I can’t control it.  If she stays, I could hurt her.

“I’m not leaving while you’re like this.”

I whirl around to face her, my head still dizzy.

“Don’t you fucking get it?” I scream.  “You don’t want to be anywhere near me!  What do you think you’re doing, helping?  You can’t help me!  There’s nothing you can fucking do!”

I take a step away from the sink and point my finger at her.

“Can you massage away cancer?  Can you?  Can you fix that shit?  No, you can’t.  You can’t do anything but suck whatever cock is put in front of you!”

Alina’s eyes widen, and she takes a small step back as her mouth drops open.  For a long moment, we just stare at each other.  I’m honestly not even sure what I just said to her.  My heart is thumping in my ears and my temples.  Her eyes suddenly narrow, and she takes a step forward as she places her hands on her hips.

“I’m going to pretend for a minute you didn’t say that,” she says slowly.  Alina’s eyes are fixed on me, and her jaw is tight.  “Back up a second.  What did you say before that?”

I’m caught off guard, which is happening way too frequently for my liking.  I blink a couple of times as the woman in front of me waits for my answer.  All I can do is shake my head.

“There’s nothing you can do,” I finally utter.

“Evan…”  Alina stops and takes a deep breath.  “Evan, do you have cancer?”

“Me?  What?  No!  Not
me
!”

“Who has cancer, Evan?”

My chest starts to heave visibly as my diaphragm starts doing flip-flops in my stomach.  I can’t inhale all the way, and my breath comes out in choppy pants.

“Rin…Rin…Rinaldo.”

“Oh, no.”  Alina steps forward and reaches for my hands.  I just stare at them as her fingers wrap around mine.  “Evan, I’m so sorry.  Is it bad?”

Bad.

Such a simple word, but it carries so much weight.  Is it bad?  Yeah, it’s bad.  It’s really fucking
bad
.

I stare at her, and it feels as if everything around me is crumbling.  If I were to look down and find my skin peeling away from the rest of my body, I wouldn’t be surprised.  My shoulders slump, and my knees start to buckle.

“He’s going to die, Alina.  They say he’s going to die!”  I drop down in a crumpled heap on the hardwood floors.  I jar my knee as I fall, but I don’t care about the pain shooting up my leg.  It doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

Alina is there on the floor with me, wrapping her arms around my head and holding me to her chest.  The last thing I deserve at this point is to have her comforting me.  I want to push her away, but I don’t.  I grab onto her as if my life depends on it.

Maybe it does.

Rinaldo had been threatened many times before.  I’d always been there; I’d always put myself between him and whatever adversary was out to get him.  I’d eliminated them all, but how do you put a 50-caliber slug into a killer like cancer?

“He’s going to die.”  I can barely hear my own voice muffled in her hair.  I tighten my grip around her, crushing her against me, and I press my forehead against her body.  Her hair falls from her shoulders, surrounding me.  I drag oxygen into my lungs, and it spurts out again, sounding like a truck running over those hiccups on the side of the highway.  “I can’t stop it.  There’s nothing I can do to stop it!”

I hold her tighter, as if I could transfer the tightness in my chest and gut into her body to somehow alleviate it.  I can’t breathe.

“I can’t…I can’t do anything!”

“It's okay, Evan.  Just let go.”

My whole body is shaking, and it takes a second to even realize I’m sobbing into her chest.  I should be embarrassed, but I can’t manage to feel anything but loss.

He’s not even gone yet.  What am I going to do when he’s gone?

Tightening my hold, I squeeze my eyes shut to try to block out everything that’s running through my mind, but the images come anyway.  I see myself at his hospital bedside, watching him grow weaker and weaker, hearing him beg for more morphine to stop the pain, and then finally giving up completely.  I see a casket with Lele dressed in black, standing beside it and holding a tissue to her face.  I see Lucia beside her, trying to offer her some comfort, but unable to say anything that makes any difference.  I see Nick off to the side, unable to mourn with the rest of his family.

And then there’s me, stoically carrying the coffin along with the other pallbearers—out of place and knowing there is nothing I can do to fix it all.  They put him in the ground, and he’s gone.  Completely gone.

I don’t know how long we’re there on the floor of my kitchen, me sobbing and Alina holding me.  Eventually, she coaxes me off the floor and leads me to the bedroom.  She undresses me and sits me down on the bed.  I stare dumbly at the floor as she goes across the hall to the bathroom, returning a minute later.  She looks at me a moment, then takes my arms and lays me down.  She climbs in beside me and then pulls the blanket around us both.