Heath
If I stopped doing this every time I had a bad feeling, I wouldn't have done it at all.
"Stay focused, man," Marko said from behind me. "You're taking a lot longer to get this shit done."
We'd broken into another place - a small home on a bit of old farmland. This was meant to be our last hit for a very long time, and I was taking an unusual amount of time handing him the money as I tore it out of the walls. I wasn't feeling like my usual cautious self. I'd thrown my mask off because the inside of the house was stifling and I couldn't breathe.
I could barely concentrate, stopping every few moments to shake my head clear. I knew the real issue was personal. All I kept thinking about was Allie's rejection. She was right to do it anyway. I was unworthy of her. I was a piece of fucking scum, lying to her behind her back just to do this shit.
I just wished she'd told me the real reason why she'd said no so I wouldn't be standing here, in the middle of a robbery, thinking about it.
"Heath," Marko hissed, grabbing at my arm harshly and shaking me. "Fuck's sake! You're distracted. Let me do it and you just keep a look out."
He pushed me back and I let him. He doubled his pace and hurriedly gathered the money in the bags. He looked possessed, never stopping to catch his breath. He had the hunger, and mine was slowly fading.
"I don't think I can do this again," I muttered, more to myself than him.
"Tough shit," he retorted without breaking his stride, nearing the end of the money pile. "We got a plan, Heath. I'm not backing out because it's getting hard on you."
"I can't keep lying to Allie."
He exhaled in irritation. "Among other things, you're doing this for Allie. Just remember that."
I always remembered that, and it still didn't make it any easier.
I was itching to get out of here. We'd never been so isolated before. The other houses had been suburban and tidy. This one stank with neglect. As crazy as it was, I'd gotten used to the security of knowing there were other people around. I supposed this was getting to me more because it reminded me of Ricardo. We weren't that far from where I'd beaten his head in.
Stop wigging out, I told myself. You're doing this for a reason. Stick to the goddamn plan.
"Alright," huffed Marko, turning to me. "All done. Now you have to help me drag this -"
The sound of a gunshot interrupted him, and for a split second I saw the look of shock on his face before he fell back, his body slamming into the collapsed wall. I didn't have time to react when I felt something hard against the back of my head.
"Turn the fuck around!" demanded a voice.
My entire body tensed as I stared fixedly at Marko's barely moving form on the ground. Was he dead? Shit, he wasn't moving. He was dead -
"I said turn around!"
Not wanting my head blown to smithereens, I turned around. Marko was shot without warning, and I couldn't risk the same cold gesture by not doing as I was told. The guy was a slim, weed of a thing. He was smaller than me in every way, with dilated eyes and an ashen face.
"Fuckin' hell," he marvelled, raking his eyes over my face - my fucking exposed face! He took a step back, that gun still pointed at me. "You're that fighter I always bet on, aren't you? You… You're Heath Lawson."
I cringed at hearing my name. This just went from bad to worse.
"It was you?" he went on, eyes nearly poking out of his face. "You… you've been fucking with the Syndicate this entire time? Ripping us off and makin' us turn against each other and everyone we work with? We've been tearing apart the town looking for you!"
I didn't say a word. What could be said? This was a nightmare come true. Everything I'd just worked for was for nothing. I felt deflated instead of afraid. And I was incredibly fucking ANGRY at another gun pointed at my face. Why couldn't I escape this scenario? I promised myself I'd never be in this position again, and yet here I was with a coked out little shit who was ecstatic at the idea of putting a bullet in my head.
"You know what Boss is going to do to you? You're going to have your spleen taken out of you! You fucked with the wrong people!" He was chuffed, digging into his pocket while he shook from excitement. He took out his phone and started dialling a number. "I can't believe I found you! I can't believe I did it!"
I eyed the gun as he continued to point it at me. The coked out bastard was good at keeping his finger on the trigger while his eyes went from me to his phone and back to me again. I couldn't risk taking it off of him, but then I couldn't risk him talking to whoever he was calling either. Once my name escaped his lips, I would be ruined.
"You do that and you're a dead man," I simply stated, keeping my voice cool. I couldn't let him know I was panicked.
He paused for a beat and scoffed. "You're the dead man here, Lawson."
"Then I have nothing to lose. Which means I'm going to rip that gun from your hand and kill you with it if you don't put that phone down."
He'd finished dialling the number, but his finger hovered over the call button. My words had an effect on him, and he sniffed and rubbed his nose, thinking it through.
"You want some money?" I carried on, taking the logical way out of this. "I'll give you some money and you'll never have to work for Boss again. How's that? You can be a wealthy man and leave this place and nobody will ever know what you did. No more doing his bidding, making fuck all money while doing dangerous shit like this."
Now I had his attention. The gun was still pointed to my head, but he was wavering a little. It was an attractive offer. He knew it. I knew it. It was only a matter of time before he agreed.
"I just shot your friend," he then said, glancing over my shoulder. "How the hell do I know you won't kill me for it after I put my gun down?"
"I'm not a killer," I told him solemnly. "I wouldn't hurt you. I'm trying to make a deal with you, alright? You put that gun down and help me out with my friend, and I guarantee you'll walk out of here with a few hundred thousand dollars. You've got my word. I'm not going to hurt you."
He was tempted. I could see it in his eyes. There didn't need to be more blood. I was so sick of blood! This could be sorted out amicably.
"Think about it," I went on. "No more being bossed around. No more guys taking advantage of your addiction. You'll be your own boss."
I was completely right. He was just another drug addict being used. By doing Boss's dirty work, he was being paid in drugs. If he had half a mind, he'd jump on this. He was about to. God, he was opening his mouth and getting ready to.
"Oh," Marko's sudden grunts erupted from behind me.
Whatever allure the man had been under dissipated at the sound of Marko. Rattled, his eyes bulged and the gun swung in Marko's direction.
"You're lying," he spat out, and that was when I knew he was going to pull the trigger again at Marko.
The gun fired off, but it was pointed to the ceiling after I'd crashed into him. The guy was puny and weak, and after a knee to his gut, his grip on the gun weakened. I forced it out of his hand and punched him hard across the face. He howled in pain and clawed at my cheeks as I shoved him back and sent another fist to his face, stronger than before. He collapsed to the ground, knocked unconscious by the force of the hit.
Without delay, I hurried to Marko, kneeling at his level. He'd forced himself up in a sitting position and was gripping his shoulder with a wince. I grabbed at the small flashlight on the ground and aimed it at the blood oozing out of him.
"Fuck," I cursed, pulling off my black sweater. I shoved his hand away and pressed it against the hole. My mind was going a million miles an hour. Where the hell was I going to get help now?
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he muttered, his face already breaking out in sweat.
"You've been fucking shot!" I hissed at him, my heart nearly crashing out of my chest at the fear of losing him.
"In the shoulder," he replied calmly. "By a nine millimetre bullet. Whoop-de-fucking-do. Hasn't been my first time."
"I thought you were dead."
He chuckled weakly, grimacing as he took over applying the pressure against his wound. "Yeah, I thought I was too. I got knocked back and my head hit the wall. I didn't want to move in case he finished me off, and then I heard you talking to him about money and shit."
I looked back at the man still lifelessly sprawled on the dirty ground.
"We gotta get out of here before he wakes up," I said. "I'll help you in the car."
"Put the bags in first," Marko responded.
"You sure? You don't look great."
"I'll be fine. I'm just getting over the shock."
Suddenly alert, I swiftly grabbed the bags and took them out to the truck. Outside, I spotted a small, dinged up car. It was empty and as I approached the opened door, I spotted coke and unused needles on the front seat. Maggot had come here to get high.
I quickly tucked the bags of money into the backseat of the truck and raced back inside to help Marko. The second I opened the door, another gunshot erupted and I stopped, frozen solid to the ground.
What in the actual fuck?
I slowly inched to the room, relaxing when I saw Marko's solid figure standing tall. Staring down at the floor, he tossed the gun down and covered his wound. I walked in cautiously and realized, the more I drew closer, what he had done. My stomach churned at the sight of the guy dead with a bullet through his head.
"I had to do it," Marko said in a hushed tone, completely aware of my presence. "He saw your face. He knew who you were. I couldn't risk something happening to you. He couldn't wake up."
I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away from the body. I ran my hands through my hair, gripping the ends as I breathed in and out. I forced my eyes shut and blocked the emotions away. I was completely numb. I couldn't think about this. I didn't want to process it. Life had gotten too ugly for me.
Without saying a word, I helped Marko to the car. He was pale and in a lot of pain, but he was surprisingly holding up well. I returned to the scene and picked up the gun and anything else we'd left behind. I didn't look at the body on my way out. I felt responsible for all of this, but I didn't have time to be melodramatic about it. I pocketed the gun and made to leave when I accidentally kicked his phone that he'd dropped somewhere in the middle of our struggle.
Sighing, I picked it up, and when my finger touched the screen, it lit up. I halted immediately and saw the word "Boss" on the top of the screen and the call time beneath it… still going…
11:34… 11:35…11:36…
Hardly breathing, I slowly raised the phone to my ear and listened in on the line. It was quiet, but I could hear the ambient noise in the background - a dog barking in the distance and the slight squeak of a chair - confirming the caller was still on the other line.
The bastard had called him! I couldn't even think when he could have done it, but he'd heard everything. And now I was really losing my shit, wondering if Marko and I had spoken each other's names aloud in the last eleven minutes and fifty two seconds.
"I'm gonna find you," the voice on the other end said. "Boy, I'm gonna find you and kill you. You just wait."
I ended the call abruptly and slipped the phone in my pocket.
I needed to get the hell out of here. My nerves were shot to shit. I fisted my hands and tried to control my breathing, but my heart was stampeding inside my chest as the chilling words ran like a broken record in my head.
Calm down, Heath. Calm down and get out now.
My legs moved and I took off out of there.
"Do you need the hospital?" I asked Marko when I slipped into the driver's seat.
Pained, he replied, "No. Isla… Isla will take care of me."
Isla.
I eyed him resignedly. The last thing he needed was to see her. She'd crushed his heart, and now he expected help from her?
"Just go," he told me, ignoring my disapproval. "She's a nurse, man. I'm not doing this for other reasons. She can take care of me. It's a flesh wound. She'll clean it up and I'll be on my way."
Sceptical of that, I decided not to pursue the topic. There were other more dire things to think about. I kept my mouth shut most of the way, recapping the man's voice on the other end of the line and Marko's decision to just end a man's life like it was as easy as flipping a switch. He had a lot more secrets than I realized.
"I did it for you," he told me, reading me like a goddamn book, something no one has ever been able to do. "Heath… bro, it was for you. I'm not going to see another friend of mine murdered by a useless thug just because he saw your face. He would have killed you. Sold you out. I know it and you do too."
I slowly nodded but didn't reply.
"Don't look at me any differently," he stressed. "You knew this was a possibility. Stick to the plan, right?"
"Yeah…" I exhaled. "Now you sure Isla will help you? Because… the phone back there… that bastard called their Boss up and he heard everything."
Marko's face whipped in my direction. "What do you mean everything?"
"I mean the last eleven minutes. He'd dialled the number to tell him about me, but he hadn't hit call until after. I guess it was around the time he heard you or something. I don't know. But the point is, if he knows you're hurt, he might send his guys out to ask around. Which means you need to hide away for a little while, until you heal up, and you need to make sure you can trust Isla."
"I can trust her as long as I don't tell her what I did. Like you, I can't be open about what we're doing."
I forced myself not to think about it. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I embraced the numbness, knowing it was only a matter of time before it came crashing down.
*
Isla's house was a cottage style looking place not far from where we were going to relocate. The second she opened the door, I saw the look of shock in her dark eyes. She looked different than the pictures Marko had previously showed me. Her hair was longer, reaching her elbows. She was tall and curvy with sun kissed skin. She was beautiful in a wholesome looking way. Not as beautiful as my Allie, mind you, but beautiful nonetheless.
They stared at one another in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time before I cleared my throat and said, "He's in bad shape and needs your help."
It was then she'd registered his hand clutching at his shoulder wound. I watched the shock wear off and concern swept in - concern and disapproval, as if she wasn't surprised to see Marko at her front porch with a bullet wound in him.
Yeah, this was more fucked up than I realized.
Isla opened the door wider and gestured us in, and I helped him inside the cosy house, settling him down on a rustic, kitchen chair. All the while, Marko's eyes had never left hers. He stared at her like he was entranced, and I felt bad for the poor bastard because she had immediately put up her walls.
She threw her dirty blonde hair up and tore apart the kitchen, grabbing at the first aid kit the second she saw it.
"Are you going to tell me what happened, Alec?" she asked harshly, and I wondered suddenly why she called him by his middle name.
"No," he answered in the same tone.
"Then I take it you fucked up, again. Shame it didn't end with that bullet in your head instead."
"After last week, I'll have died a happy man." He smirked wickedly, eyeing her reaction.
Last week? Marko was keeping shit from me.
She tensed and a blush rose to her cheeks and she said not a word about it. I stared between both of them, feeling like the odd man out. Being around two people who looked like they hated each other and equally wanted to fuck each other's brains out wasn't where I pictured my night going.
I needed Allie.
"You can go," Marko told me, once again sensing my thoughts. "I'll be fine here."
"Let me know how you're doing in the morning," I told him. I nodded once at Isla on my way out, and she looked away from me like I was bad news.
Women. Always so goddamn suspicious.