Chapter Fifty-Two

 

RYAN

 

My head still hurts. I want to know how Brian's doing. That's what I really want. Instead, I'm pushing my too-heavy body out of bed, and I'm damn sure not certain what I'm supposed to do about getting home.

Maybe they'll give me some kind of ride, I don't know. I don't much care, either. Long as I get home. How they think I'm going to ride a motorcycle out of the state is a better question.

It won't happen, but maybe their plan is to put it in the back of a trailer. That would make some sense. It's too bad, for their sake, that I'm not planning on doing it.

A lot of this plan's going to rely on Davis. More than I'd like. But you have to trust someone, and of the four, she's the only one I can. Possibly.

She follows us out. She's close to me. I think she's still worried. My limbs are moving more and more the way I want them to. They still feel like they've got weights attached, and I'm still pretty exhausted.

I don't think I'm supposed to be moving my arms much. Or using them at all. I'm sure, that shit-grinning doc had his way, he'd have me in a matching pair of slings, one for each arm.

Maybe Davis would take care of me. The thought almost brings a smile to my face. She wouldn't like to know what I was thinking of, because what makes me smile is how much I can't imagine her doing it.

Yet, I can't imagine her fretting over me like I'm an old man about to fall down the stairs, neither. Yet, here she is, her hands constantly ready to catch me if I slip.

I don't so much mind the escort out as I mind that the nurses are going to try like hell to stop me from getting out of here. Doctor's orders, they'll screech. Can't stand that, but I can't stop them, can I?

Sitting down in the car is nice. Sure, I don't have my regular clothes. So I'm sitting bare-ass on the leather seats. Logan goes with Jada to get her car. It would be real suspicious-like if a government car just went missing, now, wouldn't it?

The car pulls around in front of us, real slow-like. I'm sure that Logan's got her following real specific instructions, though I can't guess whether or not Carabello's giving them.

The big Mexican pulls the car out of the spot and starts it moving along behind. The ride back isn't anything to worry about. Davis's being real professional. No risks. No danger to herself, no danger to me.

That's good for now. The only time to take a real risk for no tangible benefit is at the last minute, and we have plenty of minutes left. In fact, they've given me a whole lifetime of minutes, just in case.

I'm not a smart guy, but I know when to wait for a golden opportunity. And thankfully, they've decided to take me back to my God damned house, a place full of opportunities just like that.

The problem will be that their eyes will be all over me. No opportunity for anything if they just have to squeeze the trigger and my whole plan is ruined. I have maybe a second to turn things around, if that's the case.

If I have ten seconds, twenty, thirty, then we have a game on our hands. Then I have a real shot. That's what I have to rely on Davis for. I need a distraction, and I need it to be a damn good one.

I take a deep breath and lay my head back. No use getting excited, though. Not yet, anyway. There's nothing for me to do, nothing for Davis to do, until we step inside. Then we start the act, and she has to make herself real impressive, real fast.

Once I finally get myself settled in, the time passes pretty quickly. Carabello has some Spanish music playing, I don't know it well. Don't recognize it. Don't know if I'm supposed to care, but it's good enough anyways.

The house looks the same. My bike's been brought. I know I didn't damn-well leave it here, but sure enough, there it is. They didn't even scratch the paint job. What a thoughtful gang of murderous bastards.

The front door's still locked, too. Very nice. Very comforting. It makes me feel like having nothing parked out front of the house might not have given someone permission to go right—

"Mother fucker!"

All of the 'keep my temper under control' flies right out the window. I just bought that god damned flat screen! Now there's a big old blank space where my TV used to be on the cabinet!

I should be moving faster. Getting everything I need out of this place by tonight is going to be a hassle already, and that's assuming that I don't waste more time trying to fight a battle I can't win.

Not that I can't win it, of course, with a little help from my Bureau friend, but if I'm going to have to get out of the state, I'd better be hurried. No time to waste getting mad about my flat screen, but it doesn't stop the frustration from boiling all the way to the surface and then some.

"Did your people do this!"

Carabello smiles at that, almost a chuckle. "No," he says.

"Fuck!" I throw myself down on the couch. I shouldn't be that upset. I've got enough money to buy myself a new one. But I can't get over it. It's the invasion of my personal space that really gets me, more than any loss of my actual stuff.

That's the real problem with all of this, really. That no matter how mad I get, I'm always going to have to deal with the fact that some son of a bitch thought he could break in here and steal my shit.

They thought they could come into my house and take my gang, take my position, take my brother away from me. Well, I'm not going to allow that to happen. Not for a god damned second.

I let out a breath. No, sir. No way is that going to happen.

I push myself back out of the couch. It's comfortable.

"You guys got a truck I can use? I got a lot of stuff, and I only have the bike."

"Sure, whatever. We'll take the expense out of your cut. Where you want it?"

"Why don't you go get it, and then I'll figure that out?"

Carabello gives me a flat look. A look that says that he's not as stupid as I think he is. Well, it doesn't much matter. I wasn't expecting him to leave. Wasn't really expecting Logan to leave, either, but I take what I can get.

Neither one does. Instead, he pulls out his phone and turns to lean against the wall. Opportunity was standing right outside the door, and all I had to do was get Davis to let him in. I move over to the rear of the room.

I hear Carabello's call connect. "Hey, it's Michael."

I don't hear the other side of the conversation, but I'm not trying to listen, per se. My eyes meet with Davis's for a moment. I slide them pointedly off to the side. I'm hoping to hell that she gets my meaning.

Her face hardens up.

"Wait a damn minute, you son of a bitch! You thought I was the leak? You, right there, as you sold your brother out to everyone who would listen?"

I move out of her way. She would have shoved right past me if I hadn't. Logan's hands come up defensively.

"Hey, I had to—"

"Don't you 'had to' me!"

She circles around him, like a lioness stalking her pray. He circles to face her. It's not thirty seconds, but it's time enough to get a drawer open.