Tyson

Two weeks. That’s how long it takes for Hemmingway to recover enough to where we can move on. She had a slight setback with her infection that caused a fever. I broke down and reached out to Pops so he could make contact with one of his docs on his payroll and get us a strong round of antibiotics. I had to relent and allow the guy to come into our room at the motel and examine her.

I gritted my teeth the entire time he was present and kept the kids outta his sight. Before his expected arrival, I went to the front office, snatched some extra pillows and blankets from the clerk, and made them a pallet on the floor in the bathroom—where thankfully, they slept during the entire time he had invaded our space.

Pops’ team extracted the Admiral and Miller from the dilapidated house they were tied up in and waiting to be found, the same day I gave him their location. The fuckfaces’ disappearances have made national headlines and are streaming worldwide. Every news network on the television has Admiral’s face plastered on it, where he’s listed as an endangered missing person due to the job he holds in the military and the weaponry company he runs. They anticipate a ransom note to come in any day now and are keeping a keen eye on his bank accounts for activity, thinking that’ll be the key to finding him.

Miller hasn’t gotten the same coverage, but it’s been presumed that he’s either holding his dad hostage, or has become another victim, who’s been captured by the same people holding the Admiral. Hemmingway’s status has been changed from being listed as an AWOL soldier to a missing person. The investigation into her whereabouts has ramped up, and it’s become a mass effort in tracking her down.

Which is why I’m sitting in the back of this stranger's house, another one of Pops’ secretive operatives, who’s changing Hemmi’s outward appearance while I keep an eye on the twins. Luckily, they’ve been sound asleep the entire time their mom has been with the lady in her mini salon that’s attached to the backside of her residence.

Since this woman, who’s fixing up Hemmi, is unknown, I’ve religiously checked on the two, and so far, all is good. Even with her putting up her closed sign, I’ve kept a vigilant perimeter check over the place, refusing to take any unnecessary risk that we’ll be spotted and reported while sitting here. There have been times I’ve gone on high alert and drawn my gun when a cop car has passed through the neighborhood. Fortunately, it seems like they’re only doing their daily sweeps, and there’s nothing felonious going down around us.

I’m expecting a delivery to come soon. One of Luca’s men is going to meet us here and we’ll exchange the car I bought from the classified ads from an individual—that depleted my funds but in no way makes us broke—with one that’s been purchased by an umbrella corporation of his. This way, we’ll be traveling around in a legally owned vehicle, that’s heavily insured, instead of one that I can’t get legitimately registered in my name.

We’ll also get a package that’ll contain new identifications, birth certificates, and social security numbers for us. I have an inkling that it’ll also hold some stacks of cash inside for us to get by on, as well as a few untraceable, corporate credit cards. As on top of things Pops is, and with him in charge of renaming us, I’m certain that my said new name will be the one pressed into the card in case I get ID’d when trying to use it.

It’s a relief to have people in your corner who have the capacity and connections to get you things on the down low. I’ve had operations where I’ve had to be incognito, but in this instance, blending into the crowd with a woman and two babies in tow will have us getting unwanted attention.

Babies on a good day catch people’s eye. Everyone wants to coo over them and do that baby babbling talk shit. Unfortunately, I also seem to be a man who’s remembered. My size and height intimidates the men of society, while the women look at me in a more carnal way, all of which sticks in their minds. If anyone connects the dots, members of the club will be associated with Hemmi, and each one of us would undoubtedly be tagged and featured as a suspect on the law’s radar. I’m shocked that this hasn’t already happened, considering that Master is not only a retired soldier with a dodgy reputation, but he also happens to be Hemmi’s twin brother.

Stacy, the beautician, who now has a name tag attached to her smock, walks into the room I’m in with a cordless phone stuck to her ear. “Yes. He’s right here,” she answers the person on the other end of the line, passing me the receiver with cautious hands. “It’s uh, it’s for you.”

I nod, a sinister scowl pasted on my face. I’m an untrusting and shrewd fucker as it is, but my suspicion of outsiders is worse. Usually I end up intimidating and scaring them whether it’s intentional or not. Nine times out of ten, it’s intentional, and I won’t ever apologize to anyone for it. In my opinion, it’s a good trait to have. It has them thinking twice if others come around asking questions, and keeps their mouths shut so I don’t come back and stomp their asses into the mud.

Stacy squeaks like a nonplussed mouse and rushes from the room as soon as the phone’s placed at my ear. “Who’s this?” I ask. There are only two options of who it could be, but as I’ve admitted, I’m a wary asshole and don’t care if I come across that way.

“Luca,” he gruffly answers. “Your package should be arriving at your location in three minutes or less. He’s one of ours, but we’ve ordered for him to be wearing civilian attire so don’t let that put you on edge.” I grunt, because they expect nothing less than for their men to be dressed professionally at all times. Every time I’ve crossed one of their guys, he’s wearing fancy suits, shiny shoes, and silky neckties. He’s right, I would’ve been doubtful and leery that they are who they claim to be. “He’ll knock three times at the backdoor, pause three seconds, then rap on it three more times. This will be the code that you’ll listen for to be sure he’s one of ours.”

“Got it,” I respond, a light chuckle escaping my lungs. “I think we had a secret code like that when I was in kindergarten.”

“Childish, I know, but it works for those who don’t know our men at a glance. Not to mention, we know how paranoid you can be to newcomers. I doubt that if he were to simply introduce himself as one of ours, you’d automatically believe his claim and open the door.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” His amused snort has me clamping my jaw so I don’t speak. Pops’ brother likes to press every one of my buttons. I think it’s one of his favorite passing the time events. Still pisses me off, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of the taunt irritating me enough that I lash out. It would just have him gloating and keeping the game going.

“Keep them and yourself safe, Tyson. And don’t get caught. We’ll be seeing you soon.” He disconnects the line and I clench my fists. Always with the last word. He has to get a dig in and not give me the chance to come back with a snappy response. One day, I’m going to put him in his place, and leave without him being able to rebut what I manage to say.

Honor and Haven stir. I don’t want to be holding one when this guy comes for the exchange, so I start rocking their car seats that our shopper grabbed—even though they weren’t on the list, which I’m now thankful for. However, I wasn’t when we had to carry them with the babies inside on the way here.

I’d gotten a little red wagon to pull our belongings behind us with, but there wasn’t any extra room for the kids’ seats, and we both worried about the possible lack of stability. We figured since it was only six blocks from the motel it’d be fine, which was a bad conclusion on our part. Hemmi still gets easily winded and has insufferable aches.

The spasms that rack her body puts a burdensome strain on every one of her tendons and muscles. They’ve taken her off of her feet. She screams, and they’ve caused endless tears from the agony to well in her eyes. Needless to say, I’ve become pretty fucking adept at taking care of the little ones. I’m near an expert level at this stage. I’ll be glad when we’re able to be with the rest of the club so she can relax being around family and finally get the rest she needs to fully heal. At least physically, that is. I suspect the mental aspect of her healing is going to take longer. There’s every possibility it might never happen based on what she shared was done to her.

I haven’t been urinated on again. Now that I know he likes to rain golden streams, I’ve taken precautionary measures. Something always covers his privates. I pay attention to my mistakes and learn from them. That was a valuable lesson that I took at face value, made sure to find a solution to, and revised the way I change their diapers and bathe them. I won’t be caught off guard and sabotaged by my little buddy.

What should’ve only been a twenty-minute walk turned into an hour-long adventure. By the time we arrived, we were late for her allotted appointment, and she was a sweaty, panting mess. It was a good thing that Stacy rescheduled all of her clients and shut down the shop to walk-ins for the day. Hemmi was remorseful, said “I’m sorry” more times than I can account for, and probably still feels bad.

I’m not sorry in the least. I have it on good authority that Stacy has been well compensated and has no reason to whine. She earned more today being closed than she would if she hadn’t been. Hemmi’s need for her look to undergo a dramatic transformation has given this woman more pocket change than she’d make in a packed work week. So no, I don’t feel bad for keeping her waiting on us. If anything, she should be grateful we needed her services, and she should wait on Hemmi’s every whim with an elated smile.

Once the whimpers turn into snores, I head to the room where the ladies are with a quick stride. The blow dryer is turned on. Stacy is drying Hemmi’s hair, which makes me have to shout over it. “Need to meet the delivery guy! I’m gonna need to bring the babies back here.”

“We can put them in that corner,” Stacy comments, tilting her head toward a spot that has no windows and is hidden in the recess of the shadows. “I’ll help you carry them in.”

“Thanks,” I grunt, grinding out my unhappiness, not liking that she’ll be lending me a hand, but knowing it’ll cut time in half and have them out of the sight of the upcoming, potentially dangerous, stranger. Being the bigger person, I acquiesce and lead the way with heavy footfalls echoing off the walls.

* * *

Marco, known through his insidious reputation as The Cleaner, was the one to meet me. Wasn’t expecting one of the men on top of the tier in Pops’ organization to be my person of contact, but I didn’t show any outward signs of cowardice. I wasn’t afraid of him. He raised his brow in humor when I didn’t let his fearsome notoriety faze me, and our meeting went smooth from there.

Mine’s not as legendary as his is, but it’s still unscrupulous and reputed. It’s well known that I’m not somebody one should mess with. Not if they want to come out of facing me without needing a breathing tube shoved down their throats in order to live out the rest of their days.

I’m not one that takes the easy way out. There’s no slapping or hair pulling involved. I’m not a pussy. I go in for the kill. If they make it out of our altercation in one piece and their limbs are still intact, it’s a miracle in itself, and I leave the person bleeding on the ground, knowing I’ve made my point and am validated.

Men like us don’t flinch before those that are like us and in our formidable wheelhouse. Instead, we posture and compare war stories to try and trump the other. Marco and I didn’t have that showdown, which inadvertently had us leaving the encounter by shaking hands and feeling an outpouring of respect for the other.

Jumping inside of the two-toned Chevy Silverado, that is duel benched to give us plenty of room to belt the kids’ seats in and keep their carry-on bag easily accessible, I pull the gear shift down, and put it in drive. I pull it further down the driveway so I can pack our minimal things in the bed. It only takes one trip for me to grab the wagon, as well as the things inside of it out to the truck, and load them down. Still, I secure everything with the straps, and test them to make sure there’s no wiggle room, and our possessions won’t go flying out, littering the highway behind us.

As soon as that task is complete, I head inside and my knees nearly buckle once I step inside and come across the most mesmerizing sight I’ve ever seen. Hemmingway has always been a looker and naturally stunning, but now, the only way I can describe her is as an astoundingly beautiful, utterly breathtaking woman. I get an instant, intense, and stiffest boner of my lifetime—one that has me biting my tongue and crossing my eyes. Her once brassy, brown hair is now as white, and blond, as the driven snow. She has some strands that’re interwoven with a color that’s on a darker shade of the gleaming spectrum. The mixed-match color is sporadically spread out and spans the entire radius of her hair, branching from the roots of her scalp. She kept the longer length, but it’s been trimmed, styled, and has a gleaming sheen to it as it topples over her shoulders in thick waves, hugging her like a lover. It’s almost as if she has a lustrous halo pirouetting above her.

“Wow.” I whistle, continuing to explore her from head to toe. “That look suits you.”

Nervously, she runs her trembling fingers through her locks, and seems absurdly clueless to how ravishing and enticing she truly is. “I never considered going blond before.” She frowns, perusing herself in the mirror that’s hanging on the wall across the room. “But I don’t look anything like myself, which was the goal. Right?”

“Right,” I agree, clearing my hoarse throat, so the clot that’s trying to steal my voice breaks up and dissolves. “We need to hit the road. We’re not going far, but we’ll be more secluded and harder to trace.”

I made a few allies years ago, ones who owe me favors, so I’ve taken advantage of that benefit, and am renting us one of their hunting cabins that’s distanced from civilization. No paperwork was involved in our transaction. It was a verbal negotiation, which means, we’re not on paper anywhere, and well-hidden. Where we’re heading, we’ll accomplish, and subsequently be what I’ve wanted all along—incognito.

“Ready when you are,” she says, pain painted across her face, and the palm of her hand flattened over her injury as her fingers dig into the flesh that surrounds the stab wound.

“Once we get you situated in the truck, I’ll hand you your pills. You’re past due for a dose of pain meds. We need to stay on top of that and get you back on schedule. Can you watch them for a minute while I get Hemmi out to the truck?” I ask Stacy, moving my finger between the twins, who’re now awake, their eyes open and roaming around the room. Stacy fanatically bobs her head in response, and I know deep in my bones that my unarticulated threat of, “if anything happens to them on her watch”, she’ll suffer for that atrocious blunder.

Hemmi told me that they can only see so far at their age, so I go up to the two, and bend down. I let each one of them grasp my finger in their fists, and smirk when they stare back, recognizing me.

They’re both smart, and in my opinion, they’re both advanced in comparison to what the growth charts say they should be—little overachievers. I have an acute suspicion that they’re going to be inquisitive, highly intellectual, always soaring above their peers, and leaving everyone behind in the dust. I foresee them far exceeding adults’ expectations. But the part of me who can’t wait to watch them grow up, and be a familiar bystander in their life, is the piece that knows they’ll be full of mischief.

Poor Hemmi, she has no idea what she’s in for with these little ones.

“I’ll be back for you two as soon as I get your momma buckled in. Be good,” I mandate, giving them both ambivalent looks as they glance over at the other.

I know that they’re only a handful of months old, but I swear they already have a private language that nobody else can translate, passing between them. In my mind’s eye, they’re secretly plotting and planning to take over the world, at least those around them. I’ll be keeping a keen eye on the duo until I can hand them over to their uncle so he can be the responsible male influence and disciplinarian in their lives. I’ll be the fun uncle who hangs out on the sidelines, watching.

I’m going to be the one they trust and seek out for a brainstorming session when they’re outlining their mayhem. I’ll mirthfully show them how to be covert, and pull off impish, debaucherous pranks. Then as the cards unfold, I’ll hide in the background, patting myself on the back for a job well done.

But as I mentally predict their future, a flash of not being a daily, intricate part of their lives flares in my heart, as if a knife is stabbing me in my chest. During our time together, it never hit me before now, that after we’re back home, I’ll only occasionally see them around and about.

Hemmi too. Something about that triggers the old me. He’s cunningly peeking outside of the shadows. He reminds me that he’s the one who wanted it all, the one I thought would never return. But she and the kids reignite his flame, making him want to wish again, and crawl his way out from the depths of his hideout.

This can’t come to fruition. He’s not the man for her. She needs someone who’s not as marred and hardcore as I am. With that thought dangling before me, like a puppet suspended in the air by a string, I push him back down into his dark fortress, and guide Hemmi out to the truck, making a hasty retreat from the desire that strums through me, running like a frightened, balless coward.

I have to protect her from the onslaught of outside dangers—including me.

Hemmi needs patience, understanding, and someone whose heart is capable of love. I’m not sure I can be that man, so it’s better that I retreat, and let her find one who is.