Teaser for my new book: Unconventional Business!

By Nik Gray

Part 1

BRIDGES

        His phone delivered a blank screen. “Good” he thought to himself. He hated that infernal contraption anyway. As long as it was silent he could relax, not having to worry about work.

        Setting the phone down on his lap, he focused on the road. He liked to drive. It helped ease his mind, allowing him to get lost in thought. The desert was boring anyway; just scraggly trees, a rogue shrub here and there, and of course, sand. The road was deserted, since no one came to Nevada to see sand.

        His speedometer read 67, his LeBaron chugging along down the road, the top down but the windows up. The wind was kicking up a good amount of sand. He just had his car cleaned after his last job Lost in thought, he glided down the road.

        His trance was disrupted by the phone on his lap. It startled him to the point that he momentarily lost control of the car. He pulled back onto the road and then pulled over to the side and set it in park. With a grimace he pushed his hair away from his eyes then looked down to the noisy chirping.

        Today had been so relaxing ….


CHAPTER 2

        Annah glared up at the sun through her glasses. She was at least glad to have those. The clerk looked away just as she pocketed them along with a few other bare necessities. She couldn’t pay for much, having so little cash on her. Her parents would know if she used the debit card. That would be a mistake.

        This was the road she chose; there was no turning back now. With a heavy sigh she fixed her blonde ponytail, once brown, and tightened the long-sleeved shirt around her waist. She marched on while shielding her face from the blowing sand. As she walked she kept listening for a car, a person, anything. The bottom line was: she was desperate.


Her supplies long since gone, even some of her clothing left behind, she was in desperate
need of sustenance. The heat took her mind off her hunger but she was dying for a drink. She even dulled her pocket knife on a few cacti. It wasn’t going as planned.
Eight Hours Later


        A small lizard crawled onto the rock next to where she sat. She took off her shoes and dried out her socks on some rocks as she tried to recover and think of a plan. The sun was setting and she was exhausted.

        There was almost nothing in sight. If she wasn’t near the road it would’ve looked like she was in the middle of nowhere. Hell, she was in the middle of nowhere. A nineteen year old girl in the middle of the desert She scoffed at the outlandish notion and stared at the setting sun.

CHAPTER 3

        He smiled to himself. The phone lay still on his lap, a dead battery the cause for its silence. He never knew it made a warning sound for a low battery; he never let it get that low.

        Wait a minute.

        “Oh Shit ” he exclaimed to no one in particular. What if they try to contact him ? What will happen if they do ? What will they do when they learn his negligence is the cause for a job being unfinished ?

        The sun was half-dipped on the horizon and that was his destination, west.

        Running thoughts through his head, he began the driving trance once more. This time, however, he had a purpose. He reached for any and every memory of maps he’d seen. There was a gas station about thirteen miles down the road. They could have chargers there. He could at least give it a shot; better than doing nothing.




        He had to blink at least five times, maybe six, seven times. A girl, just sitting there She was shoeless, dirty, and unconscious. Putting his car in park and grabbing his leather jacket, he stepped out of his LeBaron and walked over to the girl. She was either sleeping sitting up, or worse, dead. He couldn’t tell by the light from his headlights but nonetheless stepped closer, cautiously at first. The moon sat silently overhead.

        Close enough to touch, he found her to be breathing, albeit weakly. She looked a mess. Her blonde ponytail half tied, grime from the dirt and sand building on the leggings of her khaki cargo pants. Her white shirt was drenched in sweat, showing that she wasn’t fully dehydrated, but close enough.

        With infinite care, he touched her shoulder as if afraid to break her. With a weak cry, she swung a closed fist at his neck. He caught it in his big hand. A loosely gripped pocket knife fell to the sand at her side.

        “Hey Hey, it’s Okay Calm down I’m not going to hurt you.”

        Barely able to mumble her apologies, Annah fell towards him, expecting hard sand and dirt. Instead she found herself in his arms. She couldn’t even see his face but she felt happier than ever; partly because he forgave her but mostly because she found someone in this barren wasteland. God knew she needed help, if anyone did. She almost cried, but the weight of the exhaustion was too much. Annah fell into a fitful sleep.

CHAPTER 4

        She knew she wasn’t supposed to but Annah wanted it. The ceiling was painted like the sky, the carpet was like grass. In the center of the room with no walls was a black circle. The circle, she knew, would destroy everything she ever held dear. The promises of excitement and thrill engulfed her, so she touched it. The light seems to be sucked in a whirlwind into the black circle.

       
It hurt Oh goodness, it burnt through her entire being. Every cell was aflame, her mind spinning uncontrollably. The sky turned red as she saw herself bleeding. Her elbows dripped
blood, pinholes appearing across her entire arms, burns on her fingers. She couldn’t breathe. Her face was on fire. Time stood still. She was frozen in place as everything flashed to white.

        She squinted against the sunlight. Annah felt her arms and face then gasped in pain at the contact. She realized that it was a sunburn. Annah was wrapped in a jacket, and in a car. Where was she?

        Her head was pounding; she needed a drink so badly. Annah vaguely remembered last night. The moon, the man ... the knife. Annah spotted a water bottle laying on the floor near her bare feet and without hesitation she sucked it down. With a sigh of content, she laid her head on the window and looked outside. It was early morning at some truck stop. There he was, wrestling with the newspaper machine, mumbling under his breath.

        “Stupid piece of crap...”, he muttered under his breath. He rattled the machine again, hoping that maybe the change was simply stuck or the latch was frozen. Desert nights can be deadly so it could very well be frozen; mechanical devices never worked well for him anyway. He gave up with a sigh. With a playful kick to the machine, he smiled as he turned around and his eyes met hers.

CHAPTER 5

        The sun broke the horizon just enough to illuminate him. Annah couldn’t help but stare. Long brown hair, down to his shoulders with small strands along his forehead. He had a square jaw which held a kind smile. His nose had a small line-scar from the bridge to under his right eye.

        Annah’s breath caught in her throat.

        His eyes were fiercely green in the morning sun. He had a raptor like quality to his gaze but at the same time it held a kindness of good will. Annah felt safe, yet overwhelmed.

        Turning her glance downwards she saw a black tucked-in long sleeve shirt, rolled up sleeves, revealing strong forearms. His body wasn’t athletic but it wasn’t fat either, like if he was always active but not over exerted. A black leather belt held up blue denim jeans, perfectly clean while
covering slightly dusted black leather boots. This was the man who saved her life, maybe in more ways than one.

        He couldn’t help but smile. She was awake With a happy sigh of relief he felt his pocket for cash, and he mouthed the words “Let’s eat ”. Annah herself was starving and quickly nodded her approval. He smiled once again as he walked over to the door to help her out of the car.



        Still wrapped in his leather jacket, Annah slid into the booth. He was happy to see her awake and after sitting across from her, he slid his ice water towards her already emptied glass. “Good mornin’ sunshine,” was the first thing he said to her.

        Unable to find her voice, Annah averted her eyes and nodded.
       
        “So, does this beauty have a name or could the sculptor not decide?”

        Blushing slightly, Annah cleared her throat, still not meeting his gaze. “Jennifer Crawford,” she lied.

        The waitress interrupted him mid-sentence of his next question. After they placed their order, the two sat in silence.

        Stirring her coffee nervously, Annah cooled her feet against the table’s support. He stared at his own coffee for answers, but nothing except a bubble appeared, offering nothing for advice. He didn’t know how to talk to most people, let alone women

        He could tell her hair was false, at least in color. She was not a natural blonde. Annah did, however, have the cutest little nose he had ever seen. A soft oval-like face with a slightly pointed chin. Full, beautiful, every thing perfect. Her eyes were remarkable, a mix of blues and greens. He caught himself staring at her and went back to his coffee.


        “What do I say...?” he thought to himself, stabbing a hash brown. He honestly didn’t know. He continued stabbing the lonely hash brown. Just then an idea popped into his head. “So, where ya headn’?” he asked.

        She looked up from her food with wet eyes. “Thank you so much... If you hadn’t come along I wouldn’t have lived. No one has ever done something so kind before.”

        “Ahh ... Think nothing of it, m’dear. I couldn’t very well leave you out there Besides, it’s good to have company”, he smiled. Annah felt her heart flutter and she smiled back.

        Finishing her meal, she smiled and excused herself to the restroom. He sat there, watching her walk away. After she went in the door, he walked off to the payphone and dropped two quarters in.

CHAPTER 6

        She couldn’t stay. As Annah opened the window, she hesitated. He was the only person who even remotely cared about her anymore, and she didn’t even know his name Annah couldn’t do it, but she couldn’t get caught either. She held back her tears as she climbed out, leaving this mystery man behind.

        Annah couldn’t walk on the pavement so she walked along the roadside. She hurt all over from the sunburn on the outside, and leaving him on the inside. She knew though that if he knew, he might not like her. She didn’t know why but she cared what he thought.

        Her thoughts and tears were interrupted by an engine idling. She didn’t even noticed, deep in thought. She turned in time to see him getting out of the vehicle and walking towards her.

        “Annah Foutin..., Born June 10th, 1988”, he stated as he walked closer.

        She turned and hurried away. He quickened his pace, the wind buffeting the sand between them.
        “Father is Marcus Foutin, mother is Lucy Foutin-Belgrade. Attended Reno Private Schools her entire life, due to her parent’s wealthy background, and business of real-estate and surgical procedures.”

        Annah began to run, but she felt weak, as if she was becoming weighted by his words, her past, and her memories. He stopped chasing her, hands at his sides, a steel gaze fixed on her.

        “Graduated at the top of her class, honors, perfect attendance, the works. Went to college for agricultural studies, a goal set to become an EPA official.”

        No Annah didn’t want him to continue. She felt as if aboard a boat and unable to change course. She didn’t want him knowing.

        “Started out fine, finished her first year. Started smoking pot. Afterwards, moved up to stronger stuff; coke, heroin. Finally you simply dropped off the radar.”

        Annah tripped and fell. She couldn’t get up, mostly due to her exhaustion, but also due to the guilt. She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t hold back her tears. Annah let herself out, trying to vent the crushing weight on her soul, crying and hugging herself on the ground in the middle of nowhere.

        Some time passed while he just sat there on the hood of his car, letting Annah bare her soul to her past, the weight hitting her like a truck. He pulled a drag from his cigarette as he watched.

        She finally stopped. She simply stared upwards, not bothering to wipe the tears from her eyes. Suddenly, he was over her, looking down and blocking the sun from her face.
        “Everybody has things that they regret. Running, however, won’t solve too much. All it will do is catch up with you while you’re most vulnerable,” he said in a soft tone, relaxing his steel gaze.

        “I’m sorry...” was all Annah could muster.
        “It’s okay, m’dear. Tell you what. You can sit there, wallowing in your pity, crying over what has been and what never will be again. Go ahead Ya know what that will earn you? Death. You will
die out here, all along and filled with regret.” He flicked his cigarette into the wind and watched it get carried off in the draft.

        “How about this… If you want to pick your life back up and start again, you can. You can throw all this wanted potential away, or you can come with me and we’ll pick through what’s left for something to bring you back on.”

        “I’m going to get in my car now and I am going to leave in two minutes. If you’re not in there by then, that’s it. Game over.”

        And that was it. He walked away.

        ‘Lay there and die’ repeated in Annah’s head, ‘or go with him....’

        She lay there, unable to breathe right. As if in a daze, she stood up, unable to balance right, the world spinning uncontrollably.

        Annah closed her eyes and inhaled. Upon opening her eyes, the world seemed more...
fresh, new, vibrant, like she’s truly seeing clearly. She turned to find him, this unnamed man, waking to his vehicle, almost there.

        She took her first step right then and there. Annah inexorably made her way towards the car. He was watching her, hiding his pride in her. She opened the car door at one minute and thirty-four seconds. He smiled inwardly, finding promise in her confidence and will power.

        After Annah closed the door and reclined, she asked, “So, does this gentleman have a name, or did he leave his sculptor in the desert?”

        He scoffed at the joke and smiled. “Vincent Galmant, m’dear. You may call me Vince.”






Part 2

FOUNDATION

Chapter 1

        Vincent’s hand kept finding the phone in his pocket. He caught his act of habit to continually check the infernal contraption, while refraining from letting Annah see it. He didn’t think it would hurt for her to see it, but “why” he had it was the dangerous part. Looking over at her while she slept, he buried those feelings of anxiety.



        “Well, I suppose this’ll be for the best,” Marcus stated, agitated.

        “But … Can’t we just keep an eye on her for now?” Lucy pleaded, “She’s not a bad child, just misguided.”

        Annah listened to the muffled voices arguing through her door. Her parents have been going at it like this for the past week after she was expelled; Annah hardly slept a wink since.

        The digital clock near her old stuffed-animal collection read 11:02. A large room the size of the main floor of an average home was her room. The bookshelf on the left wall was empty; they didn’t want her burning any of it. The large circular carpet which once sat in the middle of her hardwood floor - missing, making everything echo. The front wall held her stuffed-animal collection, each one cherished as it was received over the years. The bed that once was in the front right corner of her room was now just the mattress left behind. They took everything from her. They feared that she would hurt herself or other things with the simplest of objects.

        They didn’t trust her. Annah felt a hot tear run down her face and onto the bare floor. She slumped back against the door as she wept. Annah silenced herself at the sound of a door opening.

        “Oh, hello Dr. Stynes,” Lucy grimly said.




        Annah was stirring. Vincent hurriedly put the dead cell phone back into his pocket.

        “G’mornin, er, evenin’, sunshine,” he said in a cheery tone. Annah rubbed her eyes and her check which was numbed from laying on it. Annah grunted in a sleepy daze, unsure of where she was. It all clicked together a moment later, and she relaxed.

        Vincent smiled at her stirring while still concentrating on the road. His mind was occupied by driving; it seemed to help him relax and think clearer than normal, probably due to his extensive experience. Still, he was close to home and was starting to relax.

        Annah woke more as she took in the surroundings. She noticed dry grass, slowly changing to farmland and green grass. A few more miles in revealed trees, railroad tracks, and spruce forests. The sky was a deep blue with small clouds floating about.

        Together they drove down the main road through the town of Mantis. They passed a church where a few people waved to the passing car. Vincent chuckled as he honked twice to reply. They passed a small truck stop as they turned down a secluded road. Past all the homes, the people, the farms, it suddenly grew very quiet. The forest grew thicker and darker as they continued.

        Vincent slowed the car, swerving for something on the side of the road. “Ah-ha ” he proclaimed, stopping the car. He reached out the window. Annah leaned forward to see what he was doing. He was feeling a tree “Wait a minute, a tree?” she thought, watching him feel the grooves in the bark. His finger sunk into a hole, then he pulled, opening the hatch of his hidden compartment.
        Vincent grabbed a medium sized brown package, one manila envelope, and seventeen letters.
He popped the hatch shut and smiled as he noticed her puzzled expression. “Uh, custom mailbox, I know the mailman,” he stated.

        It worked, she supposed. A little odd, but seemingly fitting for this man.


Foundation - Chapter 2


After another five minutes of driving, they came to a clearing. Annah gasped. The dirt road came in a roundabout fashion, counter clockwise across the perimeter of the yard. It led up to a double car garage, separate from a pale-blue large ranch-style house, built into a hillside. The front lawn was about an acre. The house was a calm, relaxed fixture, almost able to be overlooked by a passing glance. Anna felt safe immediately.

“Welcome,” Vincent said with a smile, “to Casa de Galmant.” Annah giggled a Vincent hit the garage door button on the visor. He pulled the car into his organized garage filled with yard tools and such. He set the gar in park. “C’mon, Rufus will absolutely love you,” Vincent said.

“Oh, is he your brother?” Annah asked, curious at his childlike demeanor.

Vincent punched in the code into the keypad outside the door as he spoke. “Kind of … Hey, since you’re livin’ with me, the code is 010607, Okay?”

“What,” Annah asked with a raised eyebrow, “no keys?”

“Nope, locks can be picked,” he simply stated.

With a flourish he opened the door. It revealed a hallway with a staircase leading up. The path next to the stairs led to a kitchen, stone tiles dampening the sunlight. The rest of the flooring was dark stained hardwood, with white walls in each room.

“Shall I give you the grand tour, m’dear?” Vincent asked as he extended an elbow. She took it and followed him about. “First stop, living room,” he stated with a snooty accent. A large plasma TV with two leather chairs sat in the center. A large leather couch sat guarding the far wall. A bookshelf held a vault of movies. A computer sat on the opposite wall, and everything had a fine layer of dust.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting company.” He looked over to her with a frown, “And I’m not home very often.”

She smiled up to him, noticing how serious and nervous he seemed.

They moved on into the kitchen, revealing an island in the center. Hanging pots and pans were above the island which housed a built-in oven and stove underneath. There was a small dinner table with one chair arranged next to the island. Stone countertops, a brushed steel sink, and skylights that let in sunlight, warmed the room.

He continued the tour, showing her where the restroom was. He passed a door with a keypad, not even looking at it. Annah noted this for later on. After Vincent showed her the rest of the essentials, he showed her his bedroom. Two large black doors swung open as he waved his arms towards the doorway. “This is my room, which you are entitled to use for now. I’ll be setting you up a room, some time this weekend. Sound good?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Annah nodded, raising an eyebrow of her own. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ve a couch, m’dear. Rufus will provide company and keep me warm.”

“Uh, Rufus?” she asked.

As if in reply, a large cat sauntered into view. It sat down the hall, watching them with its yellow eyes. The cat had sprawled himself out in the sunlight, its fine black fur shining.

“He thinks he owns the place sometimes…” Vincent remarked as he walked over and pet the cat. Satisfied, Rufus ran off, leaving Annah and Vincent in the hallway.


        Shrimp seemed to fly in every direction. Annah sat at the table, Rufus on her lap, both watching the acrobatic food. Vincent was the choreographer of this performance, apron over a white shirt and pants. Catching a bundle of shrimp on a pan, he set it on the burner after adding a touch of oil, garlic, seasonings, and some rice.

        “Ready for this ?” he shooted over the sizzling sounds.

        Wide eyed, Annah nodded. With a closed fist, he hit the cupboard to his right making the door pop open. He reached in with looking and grabbed a dark blue bottle. With one hand shaking and stirring the contents of the noisy frying pan, he used the other to dislodge the cork. With a glance over his shoulder to Annah and Rufus, he poured a portion of the bottle into the pan.

        Silence.

        The pan stopped sizzling and seemed to stop time itself. Vincent held an arm up protectively as the pan seemed to blow a blue bubble. Time stood still as the bubble cracked. With a sudden rush, the bubble burst and blue-green flames seemed to shoot out of the pan. The entire room was bathed in blue-green light, brighter than the light on in the room.

        “It’s gonna burn, Vince ” she shouted over the roar. He looked over with a smirk then he shook the pan, tossed the blue flaming shrimp upwards and caught it on the serving platter.

        Small blue flames licked the blue-tinted shrimp and rice. “Let’s eat ” he said, a large grin upon his face. Vincent blew out the fire and handed Annah a pair of serving tongs. When she objected to going first, he simply said, “No, no, no, you get first pickings because of multiple reasons, mostly because you’re a lady,” he winked.

        Annah nodded. Blushing slightly while she sized up a good portion of food. Putting it on her plate, she then handed him the tongs. He took them and placed his plate near the platter after putting his share on the plate.

        Looking up through some disheveled hair, he noticed her fork through a single shrimp, holding it up to him in question with a raised eyebrow. He playfully bit it off her fork and chewed. “It’s really good,” he said as he chewed, “you should try some.” He turned away to clean up a bit. Annah went back to her food, feeling a little more sure. She took her first bite.

       
Flavor exploded in her mouth. The taste was absolutely sensational Annah had to close her eyes. The taste was unlike anything she ever experienced; to compare it to something else would be insulting. After swallowing, she opened her eyes to see a smiling Vincent eating across from her, eyes locked together, half of his plate already finished. Rufus munched on his portion eagerly.

To break the awkward silence, Vincent began, “I spent close to seven years living above a master chef. I lost my job, so when I told him my predicament, he offered me a job as a cook. Giovanni DiVargo was him name. I told him I didn’t know how to cook and he simply laughed and walked away, saying I start Monday morning.”

“Giovanni owned the apartment above his restaurant, so I lived rent-free while I worked.” Vincent took another bite and continued, “He said that I was the best student he ever had.” Annah nodded as a confirmation that it was true. “He said that he never had more customers. People were calling ahead to make reservations.”

Annah took another bite as he sighed and continued. “He introduced me to his daughter, Cecelia, who, in the seven years I lived there, I had no idea she existed. She was tall with thick brown hair and kind green eyes. She took a keen interest in me…”

Annah felt herself go green with envy. She couldn’t help herself. She caught the note of sadness in his voice. She kept silent as she ate, listening intently.

“We became close for a few months. She told me about so many things, her hopes, her dreams, her entire life. She trusted me with everything. She gave me her very being. Cecelia told me not to ask questions, but only to keep her safe. I vowed that I would with my last breath.”

“One week later, her house was engulfed in flames. Giovanni was nowhere to be found, and Cecelia was with me. Turns out a wealthy family had eyes on her for their son. Giovanni and Cecelia fled town.”

Vincent was avoiding her eyes. Silence hung around the kitchen, seeming to oppress any further conversation. Finally, Annah broke the silence while Vincent was loading the dishwasher.


        “Vince, when you said, ‘mostly because you’re a lady,’ what else made up that equation?”

Vincent stopped, not facing her, and said, “You’re the first person I’ve actually had a normal conversation with in four years.” In a shaky voice, he closed the dishwasher, looked up through a solitary tear in his eye, and said with a smile, “Time for bed.”

Foundation - Chapter 3

Cecelia giggled. Vincent climbed the tree with monkey-like agility. His white sleeves were rolled up so they wouldn’t get caught and he took off his dress shoes so they wouldn’t get scuffed. Halfway up the tree, Vincent hunted for apples. It was a picnic after all, and they lacked an essential piece: fruit. Cecelia sat below on the blanket, wearing a simple dark-green sundress, her hands planted behind her as she watched Vincent scour the tree for apples.

“Aw, man The pickers got most of ‘em.” He sat as he continued his search while Cecelia watched patiently from down below. He stole a quick glance down at her. The golden sun shone across her slender yet sturdy shape, the sunlight setting her eyes fiery green. Vincent’s grip slipped, and he tumbled from the top of the tree.

After an ugly fall, he landed on his back with a thud. Cecelia was by his side in an instant, looking him over as he began to giggle. She noticed he was covered with mushed apples. He was going to be fine, but the apples he acquired were crushed upon landing.

Cecelia arched an eyebrow in question to his giggling. Vincent pulled a twig out of his ponytail. He caught her eyes and arched an eyebrow of his own as he took his arm away from his stomach, and held one single apple in his hand, undamaged.

“Sorry sweetheart. I could only save one,” he said with that playful wink he knew she loved. She leaned in close and locked fingers with him, delivering a soft kiss. He returned it in earnest, and whispered, “I love you Cecelia.”






       
The warmth left his body, her scent left his nostrils, and all he felt was the leather of his couch, and the smell of fresh pine air. Wiping the tears from his cheek, he sat up and looked at the clock, 7:42. Today is a new day, he thought to himself. He stood, stretched, and stumbled towards the bathroom. From down the hall the door flung open, followed by a wave of steam. Annah walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Vincent was fully awake now, for sure.

Annah strode to his room and closed the door. Vincent walked past the door and towards the bathroom. “How about we get you some clothes? I’m sure you could use some …” he said as he passed.

She agreed happily. Her current selection was limited to what she was wearing the day before.

“How about we go scour you up some work too?” This is a nice, quiet town, but there are plenty of jobs; you could always watch the kids at school. They’re usually looking for people to watch them, and the pay is decent.”

She nodded to herself, thinking it was a good idea. “Sounds good ” she replied.

Vincent grabbed a towel and closed the bathroom door, beginning his new day.


“How’s this look? Is it good? Do you like it?” she asked nervously. Vincent looked up from his magazine to see fresh khaki pants, black leather gloves, a white t-shirt and a black long sleave shirt, unbuttoned. To his surprise, she had her natural hair color instead of the faux blonde. Vincent raised an eyebrow while hiding his grin behind the magazine and grunted out a, “Meh.”

Annah scoffed and threw a nearby box of tissues at him, bouncing off his head. He put the magazine on the stand next to him. He gave another look at Annah as she looked over herself in the changing room mirror.

“You look beautiful, Annah. I won’t ask how you got your natural hair color back, but it sure looks a lot better. You got enough clothes for now?” he asked as he scooped up a pile of her chosen clothing; mostly khaki, whites, and blacks.

“I called Douglas McArthur, the paster of the church. He said he would love to give you a job ” Vincent said, as she collected her things. “You can start this Friday,” he said.

Annah held back her tears as she embraced Vincent, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you so much, Vince. The clothes, the house, the job … I … thank you.”

Vincent squeezed back just as tightly. “You’re more than welcome, sunshine. Anything you want or need, just ask me, Okay?” he said softly, still embracing her. She squeezed once more and separated. He looked her in the eye and smiled.

Just then, Vincent’s expression darkened into a sour grimace. He excused himself and went outside. His phone was vibrating.



“Now, Annah,” Vincent said in a serious tone, “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.” The car sped along the dirt road past the hidden mailbox. “Business has arisen and I need to go out of town for awhile. It shouldn’t be more than a week.”
They pulled up to the house, not parking in the garage. He got out with Annah following his hurried pace. Worry plagued her mind. Where was he going in such a rush?

Vincent rushed hurriedly inside and went directly to the door that he had passed on the tour. He punched in a code too quick for Annah to see. He held up a finger.

Annah waited patiently, waiting for Vincent to emerge.

Minutes later, Vincent walked through the door, closing it behind him. Beneath one arm, a black leather duffle bag was located.

“You live her now, I trust you enough. Treat it well while I’m gone. Use the bike in the garage, and always arm the system.” He spoke hurriedly as he climbed into the car, placing the duffle bag on the passenger seat.

“Vincent …” was all Annah could say, unable to bring a voice to her emotions. This was happening all too fast. It wasn’t the fact he was leaving that scared her, but his rush and grim determination.

He looked into her eyes, smiled as best he could, and winked. “One week. I’ll try to be back in one week.”

And that was it, he sped off, though not aggressively, but in a rush that left Annah feeling completely alone. She walked back into the house, closing and locking the door against the setting sun.





                                
Part 3

EARTHQUAKE


        Three weeks.

        It’s been three whole weeks since he left. Needless to say, Annah was worried. She had cleaned up the house, kept busy with work, even turned the guest room into her own. Rufus never leaves her side, so it wasn’t completely lonely, but she still missed Vincent dearly. Everything just seemed … lifeless.

        Curled up after dinner, Rufus lay on Annah’s lap as she dozed off on the couch, a movie’s credits beginning to roll by on the TV. Eyes closed, she didn’t notice the headlights flash past the window. She stirred at the sound of a door knob turning.

        A foot step …
        Something dragging.

        Annah was awake by the second foot step. Someone was in the house She felt a chill run up her spine as she shot up to her feet. The amber light of the nearby candles cast her shadow away from the door, so she planted her back against the wall. She gripped the cold steel paperweight in her hands.

        Step.
        Drag.

        The tip of a pistol peeled past the doorway, held in a black leather glove. Annah brought down the paperweight as hard as she could in the gun, knocking it to the floor. The intruder grunted, making a sloppy attempt to catch it. Annah whirled around the doorway, weight swung at head level.
               
        She stopped.

        “Annah” was all Vincent could say before going into a violent coughing fit. Annah was too stunned to move. Vincent looked back up through his blood soaked bangs with hazy eyes and fresh blood running down his jaw line. He attempted to make another step but his leg buckled beneath him. He fell forward and Annah caught him in her arms, lowering him to the floor. She felt holes in his jacket, and there was a warm wetness. Annah’s eyes widened, her mouth agape in mute shock,

        Blood. A lot of blood.

        Vincent shook slightly in her arms, blood dripping from his lips as he spoke. “Re…move bullets. Apply pres…sure.” He coughed out more blood.

        A pair of headlights flooded the open doorway, but she didn’t care. She clung to the shivering body of Vincent. A car door closed. Annah looked up to see the silhouette of a man, Vincent’s trail of blood at his feet. Annah saw the knife in his hand, and a sick smile on his face.

        Heartbeat.

        This man hurt Vincent, or was going to try to kill him.

        Something inside Annah snapped. She felt it deep in her mind.

        Heartbeat.

        Annah reached over Vincent, still in her arms, and grabbed the blood-soaked pistol.

        His blood.

        Vincent in her left arm, pistol in her right hand, Annah screamed in rage, tears streaming freely down her face as she pointed and pulled the trigger as fast and hard as she could. She didn’t squint from the shots, she kept her eyes looking at the object of her hate.

        Heartbeat.

        Eleven shots fired in quick succession, each flash soundless compared to the ringing in her ears from rage. The pistol cocked back, empty and smoking in her hands. The man in the doorway fell into a bloody heap. The headlights turned around and sped off.

        Heartbeat.

        Dropping the empty weapon, she wrapped around Vincent loosely. He opened his eyes, blood trickling down like tears. Vincent was in shock.

        See was losing him.

        “Towel …bathroom,” he croaked, painfully with each word. Annah lay him down gently and ran, slipping and falling in his blood. Regaining her footing, she acquired the towel. Removing his jacket and ripping off his shirt, Annah then searched his blood-smeared chest for the bullet wounds. Each one she found, she jammed the towel in and felt it instantly get soaked.

        Four wounds.

        Vincent’s shivering turned to violent convulsions. She wrapped him tightly in the towel and then wrapped her arms tightly around him, his arms draped outside hers. Vincent drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling numb. His face lay against her shoulder, Annah squeezing Vincent firmly against her.

        “Sun-s-shine … you - you are my s-sunshine. You ma - make me happy - when s-kies are gra-y… You - you’ll never know d-dear, how much I l-love you. Pl-ease don’t take my sun - sun - shine - away…”

        Annah cried so hard, burying her face in his neck.

        She couldn’t lose him.

        Heartbeat.

• • •

       
One week earlier …

        Vincent pulled up behind the noisy building. He hated night clubs, no matter what he was there for. Going through his duffel bag, he pulled out his custom-built pistol. It was ceramic instead of metal, so it was undetectable. The silencer clicked into place at the tip. His gloves creaked as he chambered the first round. He tucked it in the holster under his leather jacket, and walked to the fire exit.

        Of course, it was locked, but hey, you never know. Vincent casually checked the fire escape ladder. It had a pad-locked entrance. A smirk on his face, Vincent opened up his duffel bag around his waist and pulled out heavy duty bolt cutters.

        Snap - pop.

        The padlock dropped to the ground. Vincent picked it up and tossed it in a nearby dumpster. Climbing the ladder, he reached the 3rd story rooftop and set the duffel bag down near the skylight. Reaching in through an open window, he unlocked a larger pane. The room below was pitch black, and he could only hear faint thumping of the bass. He slid down into the room.

        Opening the door, he peered through the crack onto the dance floor below. The music was blasting now, and he scoured the crowd. Keeping low to avoid being seen, he mentally brought up the image of the man he was sent all the way to Washington to kill. Bald, tattoo up the back of his neck, piercings on his right ear. Vincent scanned the thriving mass of people. Twenty minutes went by. Vincent waited patiently, eyes never still for more than a few seconds.

        Finally, he saw a small commotion over by the bar. Three women, scantly clad, all clung around the young man Vincent was sent to kill. Less than 40 feet away, this man carelessly threw money and drinks at all three, making lewd promises accented by physical actions. Not anymore, Vincent muttered to no one as he took aim. He waited for the right moment.

        The women directly in front of the target bent to pick something up. Vincent squeezed once on the trigger, a small hole seeming to erupt from the target’s forehead. The woman looked up in time to catch a stream of blood on her face and the limp body fell on her as she screamed as loud as possible. Vincent heard the scream through the door as he climbed back onto the roof.

        Vincent reached into his pocket as he strode across the roof, hearing the panic cries down below. Coming over to the ladder, he used his leather gloves and boots to slide down. Mid-slide, his boot got caught on a chunk of twisted metal.

        “Shit ” was all he could say before his ankle twisted and popped. The breath froze in his lungs as he met the ground, duffel-bag cushioning as well as injuring him as the bolt cutters jammed into his solar plexus. The wind knocked out of him, all he could do was squint against the pain, trying hopelessly to maintain consciousness. Vincent drifted out.

        The world exploded in a painful burst of color. His first instinct was to roll and guard his face, but he hung by his wrists, spinning from chains. He opened his eyes, seeing his ankle twisted in a painful direction. A metal washtub with no drain lay below him, his bare body exposed, shackled wrists attached to a chain supported by a solitary pipe from one end of the room to the other.

        The dim lighting of the room didn’t let him see much around him; white tiles, no windows, a counter, three chairs, and a digital clock. 2:32 AM. Ugh, his head was pounding. Somehow, though, he knew that it was going to get a lot worse.

        His shoulders threatened to pull apart, his ankle throbbed dull pulsations, and it hurt to breathe in too much. He tested his neck, no spinal injuries … “yet,” he thought grimly.
       
        He had spent one week traveling to Washington, arriving early, and the rest of the time preparing. He felt angry with himself for slipping up, and even worse, getting caught. He shook his head, dismissing his self-anger. Nothing to do now but escape.

        Footsteps.

        He held his breath as he listened to the approach. A sliding metal door opened, revealing two men. One was obviously a relative of the target, the other Vincent was sure he would get to know real well. The door shut. The young men hurried over to Vincent and began to pummel his stomach, each blow weak but painful to his broken rib. The little guy finally tired and fixed his gaze on Vincent’s own eyes. “Korey did NOT deserve to be killed by some long-haired faggot like you HE WAS MY BROTHER, YOU ASSHOLE ” he spat out as he took a few more swings at Vincent, while the larger man stood silently off to the side, watching. He had a long-athletic look to him, designer cotton clothes, spiked hair, and a long nose. His eyes were filled with rage as he began to pummel Vincent in the stomach once more.

        Expended of his rage for now, he panted as he looked up into Vincent’s eyes. Vincent winked, causing the shorter man to unleash another barrage of blows. He screamed with rage, “Do you know who I am ? …who we were? …who my family is ?”
“Does the Barrington Family ring a bell ?”

        Vincent nodded, and added with a smile, “Yes, a rich and large family of drug dealers, slave traders, and worst of all, pimps.”

        “Escorts are NOT hookers ”

        “Whatever helps you sleep at night, shrimp. Korey, however, had other tastes that you probably don’t know anything about.”

        “Like what? What could some asshole like you know about my own brother ?”

        “Well,” Vincent began, adding a thoughtful look to the ceiling, “children for one. Murder, for two, usually mixing both together, maybe even in this very room What a great guy He makes me want to pu-.”

        The short man lunged at Vincent, punching him in the jaw. While landing, he landed on the edge of the metal tub, causing the other side to slam into his own shins. With a cry, he fell to the floor, clutching his bruised skins. Standing shakily, he left the room, limping, yelling over his shoulder. “The name is Scott, asshole, and I’m going to come back for you with some ‘toys’.”
        “I’ll be waiting, sweetheart ” Vincent yelled to the closing door, causing Scott to slam it shut in anger. Vincent smiled to the large man in a suit, still silent. He walked over to the counter and began rummaging through the drawers, setting various knives and small tools aside. Vincent looked down at his exposed body, looked up to the connector in the chain, and began to pull himself up.

        The big man was preoccupied with finding tools to torture Vincent with. Vincent inexorably made his way to the pipe, finding a simple hook holding it together. ‘These guys under estimate me’…, Vincent thought wryly. He easily unhooked the chain, and wrapped them around his wrists to keep them from rattling too much. Climbing across the pole, he found one of the chairs and dropped 3 feet down on his one good ankle.

        The big man finished collecting his tools of torture and slowly turned around just in time to catch the solid hook of the chain, swung full-force at temple-level, the hook digging into the man’s skull with a sickening ‘THLUK’. The man’s arms flailed lightly as he dropped into a heap on the floor.

        Vincent checked the man’s pockets finding the release to his shackles. He then took off the man’s leather belt and bit down hard. Using two legs of a chair he broke, he grunted in effort and pain as he set the bone in his ankle straight. Blinding pain ensued for shortly thereafter. Using the belt, he fastened the chair legs to his own, creating a makeshift splint.

        Regaining slight use of his broken leg, Vincent felt more confident. Naked, broken ribs, broken ankle, and one hell of a headache, Vincent stood as tall as he could, checking the nearby cabinets for his supplies. Various knives, surgical tools, straps, containers filled with questionable contents, all useless. The last cabinet, however, contained a least one essential thing: his clothes, neatly folded in a pile. Vincent happily put on his now slightly ripped khaki pants, secured with a belt to his black t-shirt, white outer shirt, and leather jacket. He saved the worst for last: Socks and boots. Squinting against the pain, he managed to put on his boots, and stood up, flexing the cold stiff leather. The entire time he was in captivity, a word has been repeating in his mind: Annah.

        He's come too far to get captured again. They wont' hesitate next time. Searching the big man again, he found the key to his escape tucked in his waistband: his pistol.

        Sorry, big fella, but I can't stay, he said as he patted the dead man's bald head. Climbing the stairs with infinite care, he ascended up to what appeared to be a garage.

        'A sub-basement designed for torture … crafty,' he thought as he walked down the line of cars, noticing now that this might be a chop-shop. 'Is there anything this family DOESN'T do ?' Vincent thought in shock. Finally he spotted his LeBaron, finding all the tools necessary nearby to dismantle it. The keys dangled from the ignition.

        Not very smart, he said out loud as he climbed into the car, checking for any traps. Starting the vehicle up, he shifted into reverse, about to pull out when he spotted something. Rolling down his window, he grabbed the object: leather gloves. He flexed his hands, feeling bad to normal. With a squeal, he whipped the vehicle out backwards, and took off in the direction of the exit. Vincent plowed through the garage door at 60 miles per hour, leaving a large rip through the thin sheet metal.

        I'm coming, Annah, he said as he headed south to the highway.


• • •



       

10 MILES TO MANTIS the sign said. Vincent almost ran out of gas and had to make a quick stop off at a station. Leaving the nozzle stuck on, he walked inside to grab a hot dog or SOMETHING. He was absolutely starving. Unwrapping the plastic bag of buns from the drawer, Vincent looked outside to see a man who looked like he was admiring the LeBaron. Vincent rushed outside to see what was happening.

        Vincent was leaving. Now.

        The pistol was left in the glove box, Vincent realized as he walked up to the pump and removed the hose.
        Nice little car you got here the man said, crouching to look in the wheel well. Front wheel drive, 6 cylinder turbo?

        Vincent walked over only to find the tip of a pistol poking his chest. Or is it a 4 cylinder? he said as he squeezed off 4 shots into Vincent's upper chest area. Hot lead burnt as it punctured through the flesh and exited out his back, breaking the windows of the gas station. In an adrenaline rush, Vincent screamed in rage and slammed the man on the head, knocking the gun out of his hands. Vincent wasted no time.

        He pummeled the man in the sides and face at the same time, keeping him from getting up. The bullets still burnt, adding to his rage, making Vincent scream louder as he lost control, head-butting the man savagely in the nose repeatedly until his screams for mercy became bloody gurgles and finally silence. Taking a ragged breath, Vincent wiped the blood off and out of his eyes as he climbed into the car speeding off towards Mantis.

        Distantly aware of his surroundings and driving in a haze, Vincent pulled onto his secluded dirt road, noticing headlights but unable to place them together due to his fogged mind. Coming up to his house, Vincent pulled across the lawn up to next to his front door. After grabbing the pistol, he fell out of his car, standing shakily. He wrapped one arm around his chest to try to stop the bleeding, but it didn't help. Punching in the code, and after a few failed attempts, he staggered into the house, lacking the energy to lift his broken leg. There might be someone inside, he hazily reasoned as he lifted the pistol and began shuffling his way down the hallway.

       
• • •


        Slick with blood not her own, Annah squeezed Vincent's limp form to herself, face buried in his neck, out of tears, trying to share her very life with him, share her warmth. She snuggled closer to him, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but there. Vincent stopped shaking and moved slightly. He locked his fingers behind her as he fell into darkness.