Shay Savage - Otherwise Unharmed

“I…I wasn’t always like this,” I said, my voice hushed.  “I just don’t know…I don’t know what’s me inside and what isn’t.”

“But that’s who I met in Arizona,” Lia said.  “That’s the person who let a stranger stay with him, even though it was probably dangerous.  That’s who cooked for me and…and…”

“Fucked you?” I smiled slightly, and this time the gesture was returned.

“That’s the man who understood what I needed more than anything else and exactly how to give it to me.”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to do it,” I said.

“I realize that.”  Lia’s smile widened, and she blushed.  “The point is, that was all you.  So you are in there, Evan—I know you are.”

I reached up and pushed her hair away from her forehead and stroked my fingertips down the side of her face as I talked.

“There’s so much shit in my head—shit I can’t unsee or undo.  Sometimes it feels like there’s something inside of me just…tearing me up inside and waiting to bust its way out.  I think maybe…maybe if I could get that out, then maybe the person I was is still underneath.”

I tightened my fingers slightly on her shoulder.  I wanted to grip her as tightly as I could.

“Someday—when we’re away from here, and it’s just us—will you help me?  Will you help me get it out so I can be what you need?”

Her hands cradled my face, and she brought her lips to brush quickly against my mouth.

“Of course I will, Evan.  Don’t you see?  That’s why I’m staying.”

Nothing was going to stop me from making sure she had the chance.

“I keep seeing this kid I shot in when I was over there.”

Mark Duncan was noticeably pissed off at me, not that I blamed him.  As far as he had known, I dropped off the face of the planet once I left incarceration.  Once I came out and told him I was hallucinating, he dropped the anger and looked me over carefully.

“Is there someone you are seeing who looks like this kid and you think it’s him, or is there no one there at all?”

“No one there, not when I try to get closer to him.  He just vanishes.”

“Are you hearing things, too?”

“No.”

“You did before though, didn’t you?  When you were locked up?”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged.  “A few times.”

“Did you see him then?” Mark asked.

“No, not until a couple of weeks ago.”

“Always the same person?”

“Yeah.”  I reached up and scratched at the back of my head.

“How many times have you seen him?”

“Three or four now, I guess.”  I leaned back and took a calming breath.  “I don’t understand why I see him.  I killed plenty of people when I was there.”

Mark sat back as well and chewed on the end of his pen.

“Tell me about killing him.”

I went over it all—how I had been on scout duty and had seen him approaching our base.  I told him about the bombs strapped to him and how young he was.  I even told him about my captain telling me I had done well.

“So?” I asked.  “What does it mean?”

“It could mean a lot of things,” Mark said in typical, vague psychologist fashion.  “Like you said—you’ve taken other lives.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he said it, and his posture changed minutely.

He knows.

I wasn’t sure what digging he had done over the past few weeks, but I had no doubt that he had found out what I did for a living, and it wasn’t paid-under-the-table roofing.

“What made this life different from the others?” he asked.

I could have called him out on it and maybe even threatened him into silence, but I didn’t see the point.  If he was going to turn me in, it wasn’t like he had anything more on me than the feds already did.  His knowledge was interesting and changed our dynamic but ultimately didn’t matter to me.

“He was a kid, I guess,” I said but didn’t really buy it.  I’d taken the lives of gang members not much older than the insurgent teenager.  I shrugged.  “Maybe he was a virgin.”

“Does that matter to you?”

“Dying a virgin seems kind of shitty.”

“You’re too flippant about it for that to be the reason,” Mark countered.  He was pissed again.

“So, what is it, then?” I snapped back.

“He’s a symbol, Evan,” Mark informed me.  “A symbol about what is something you’re going to have to figure out.  If you don’t, you’re going to keep seeing him.”

Fuck.

* * *

“Your phone doesn’t answer.”

“Sorry about that, sir.”  I sat down in the lounge area of Quay across from Gavino and Andrey and handed them each my new number.  Micah and Craig were standing in their designated spots off to the side, trying to look intimidating.  “Technical difficulties with the other one.”

Andrey grumbled something in Russian—I was definitely going to have to learn another language if I was going to keep this up—and folded his arms.

“You have news for me?” Gavino asked.

I took two Polaroid photos out of my pocket and handed them over.

“Destroy those, obviously.”

Andrey glared at me.

“Why do you use such old technology?” he asked.  “You don’t have a camera on your phone?”

“Do you want a lot of digital pictures around as evidence?” I asked.  “With these—those are the only photos outside of the ones the cops take when they find the bodies.  After a couple days in the river, they don’t look so pretty anyway.”

“This is pretty to you?” Andrey asked.

I took a long drag on my cigarette and leaned back in my chair.  I looked at him steadily for a moment, blew smoke across the table, and then replied.

“I think they’re beautiful,” I said.  “Nice clean shots—one to the head, one to the throat.  Not bad, considering that rifle needs a scope on it for decent accuracy at that distance.  Maybe I’ll add an ACOG or a CCO.”

“You get off on this, don’t you?” Micah snickered.

“I’ve got a hard-on just thinking about it.”  I stared into his eyes until he looked away.

“It’s good work,” Gavino said.  “Quick, too.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  “That’s how I roll.”

“Give him his money.”  Gavino looked up at Craig, who pulled a plain envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it over.

I counted the money quickly and was pleasantly surprised it actually contained ten grand.  I had fully expected to be stiffed for the job.

“All right, Arden,” Greco said, “you’re in—for now.  I’m gonna be watching you, though, so don’t try to get cute.  You got that?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied as I tucked the envelope away.  “Just let me know what you need next.”

“Next, you come to my office,” Gavino said.  “I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.  You probably already know them, and they certainly know you.  I don’t think you’ll be shocked to hear some of them are not thrilled with this idea.”

“I understand.  They’ll get used to me.”

Craig snorted through his nose, earning him a disapproving look from Gavino.

“Fuck you,” I said to the big Irishman.  “Maybe if you could hold your own with a gun, your boss wouldn’t need me.”

“You cocky motherfucker,” he sneered.  “I don’t need any lip from you.”

“What you need is a shooting lesson.  Once we get past that, we can talk about your lack of any actual tactics.”

“That’s enough,” Gavino sighed.  “I’m not putting up with any of that from you boys, got it?”

Craig took a deep breath before nodding.  Gavino looked over to me.

“I was just offering some of my other services,” I told him.

“You were just being a dick,” Gavino corrected.

I shrugged.  I didn’t want to take this too far.  If I did, I would end up with Craig watching me too closely, and I didn’t need that.  I wanted to get in as deep as possible so I could find what I needed and get the fuck out of Dodge.

Chicago.

Whatever.

The five of us left the bar and entered a limo parked out front.  I knew where Gavino’s office was though I’d never been inside of it.  I’d been outside and down the block—perched on top of a high-rise apartment building with my Barrett and a full magazine—but never inside.

Once we’d arrived, Gavino led the way to the large, posh office—much larger than Rinaldo’s—and sat in a plush leather chair.  There was extravagance everywhere—something Rinaldo saved for his home, not his workplace.  Gavino obviously liked to flaunt what he had.

He went through a few pointless introductions—I knew everyone there by face and name except for one.  She was introduced as Jenna Ranger and was apparently in charge of the human trafficking side of the business.

That shit just gave me the creeps.

She was tall with a body-builder’s physique, round ass, long brown hair and green eyes.  She gripped my hand firmly when we shook and held it longer than she needed to for a hello.  I had the feeling I was going to have to watch her carefully, but I didn’t mind the idea—she was very easy on the eyes.  Her side of the profession was definitely unexpected.  A woman dealing with what was usually the kidnapping and breaking of girls seemed out of place.

Another man walked into the room, and I knew him immediately as Rurik Dytalov though we hadn’t met in person.  I had killed a few people under him, including one of his cousins, but as far as I knew, he didn’t know that.

We were introduced, and he eyed me coldly as he sat next to Andrey, his partner in the Russian outfit.  Like most of the Russians, he was blond and of intimidating size if you happened to be scared of that.  His English wasn’t as good as Andrey’s, but he seemed to understand the discussion going on around him.  I had him pegged as brighter than the rest of them almost immediately and was proven right before I had even left the room.

“Mister Arden has proven himself useful in a short amount of time,” Gavino said to the group.  “Though I think he has a way to go to completely prove his loyalty, I’ve decided to let him into our operations in an official capacity.”

“You agree with this,” Rurik said as he looked over to Andrey.  “I tell you my concerns, but you still agree.”

Andrey replied in Russian first and then in English.

“He does have skills we need,” Andrey said, “both as assassin and as protector.”

“Just don’t ask him to do any knife work,” Micah snickered.  “Apparently, he’s messy.”

I offered him a bit of a shrug.

“I’ll still do it,” I replied, “as long as you don’t take off points for neatness.”

I watched both Andrey and Gavino closely, trying to gauge their silent exchange.  The Russians were in Greco’s group much deeper than I realized, and I wondered if Rinaldo understood the extent of it.  Having the two organizations joining forces was always a concern—both due to the numbers as well as the access to overseas merchandise.  Rinaldo wouldn’t like seeing them all work together so closely.

I’d done a lot of work to discourage that earlier in the year, but they must not have gotten the right message.

“You use knives for work?”  Rurik nodded toward me pointedly before continuing in his thick accent.  “There was woman here with us who was killed with knife.  It was sloppy job.”

I sat motionless and didn’t respond.  I knew exactly who he was talking about—Tasha Zorin.  Rinaldo had asked me to send a message with her death, and I had.  Andrey said something else to Rurik in Russian.  The tone was one of warning, but Rurik didn’t seem interested in heeding it.

“You kill for our competitor,” he said.  “How many of my people have you killed?”

“This is history,” Gavino stated.

“I have right to know!  If he is man who put her head on my door, I have right to know!”

I leaned back in my seat and looked over to Gavino, wondering how he was going to let this play out.  Intelligence aside, he was still obviously in charge.

“History!” he bellowed.  “I know he has killed many of my people as well, and if I can set that aside to employ him, then so can you!  This is business.  Just business.”

Rurik glared from Gavino to Andrey but didn’t say anything else.  When no one else dared say anything, Gavino spoke again.

“Mister Arden is in my employ now.  Is that correct, Evan?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He has already done work for me, and I have more for him to do soon.  We will keep the past behind us.”

“I do not trust him,” Rurik replied.

“And I don’t trust you,” Gavino responded, “but still we manage to work together.  How many caviar shipments have you lost?”