CHAPTER 18 - BARRETT
The wind picked up, and I pulled my jacket tighter, lowering my head and plowing ahead down the sidewalk outside of the apartment complex. There were only a few people out that early, which made it easy for me to size up each person as they approached.
By now it was almost automatic, like a reflex. I knew that I did it even when I wasn't harboring a fugitive from a killer businessman hellbent on finding and killing her.
Sometimes I wished I could turn it off, but now was most definitely not one of those times.
I'd stayed at this safe house sporadically over the years and knew the lay of the land pretty well even though it was on the outskirts of Meridian. As the last person in front of me passed by and I was free to look around for a moment, I flicked my eyes toward the skyline, admiring all the tall buildings that had made the bustling city famous.
And of course, like old man Norman had insisted upon, by hook or by crook, Norman Tower was visible no matter which direction you looked from, standing tall and gleaming, like it was trying to connect the ground and the sky.
Amazing how so many people could work there unaware that the Norman Corporation was nothing more than a huge and hugely profitable front for an even bigger and far more profitable illegal operation that touched all manner of illicit trades — not just surface things like drugs, weapons, and gambling.
From working with Tate over the last few years I knew that the growth in the legitimate business was entirely strategic - Tate continually looked for new illegal businesses, and expanded the legitimate stuff in tactically sound and smart ways to cover the encroaching darkness from below.
For a long time I had admired Tate's skill, but after the last 48 hours even that had worn thin with me.
I turned a corner and was about to jump up the steps to the diner's entrance when I realized there were people blocking the way. I stopped just in time and a big burly guy dressed like he'd just come out of the cab of a long haul truck turned to look at me, nodding.
We didn't speak, but a glance toward the door was met with a shrug, then he turned back to face front. I leaned over and peered around him. There were definitely people in the restaurant, so it wasn't closed.
The line was barely moving, but I didn't have anywhere else to be. A couple people in front of me had their phones out, checking scores or news or social media, looking up for a moment here and there to make idle conversation with their friends.
It gave me time to stew in my situation some more. The strain was starting to get to me, and after all the things I had seen over the years, that was saying a lot.
In the tense moments after I charged back into Tate's office the night before last, there was a lot to take in. Tate was screaming and making almost no sense, gesturing wildly and aiming a gun all over the place. Marconi’s body was slowly sliding out of the chair he'd been sitting in, and then there was the blood.
So much blood. I was no stranger to being around buckets of the stuff, but running into Tate's office had felt like walking into an abattoir in the middle of a busy day.
Time had slowed down while I tried to figure out just what was going on. Tate was no help whatsoever, his eyes wild, the entire front of his body covered in blood.
I'd been around when Tate had killed someone before — if Tate Norman was anything, he was meticulous, and would never have let blood get on him like that.
No, something had happened. Something out of the ordinary, and not just some guy getting killed in Tate's office, which was strange enough. The cleanup process alone would cause some poor asshole way too big of a headache.
He'd been there too. The other one. I didn't even know his name, but he was the guy I'd taken out in the supply closet a few minutes later. Of course that guy hadn't been too perturbed — he must see things like that all the time.
The line advanced and I found myself inside the diner, the smell of breakfast cooking and people enjoying their meals wafting over my nose and causing a rumble in my stomach. The soup from last night hadn't been enough, especially not with all the sex Mallory and I had had last night.
But that was neither here nor there, though my cock, stirring in my pants at the mere thought of Mallory and her luscious curves pressed tight against me as I thrust myself into her, begged to differ.
Back in the office, when Tate had calmed down for a moment and recognized that I'd come into the room, he had screamed at me to catch 'that bitch' and 'fucking kill her.'
All of a sudden thoughts rushed through my head as I pieced it all together - Mallory had seen Tate kill Marconi, and now Tate wanted, no, Tate needed Mallory killed before she could tell anyone.
There was only one thing I could do. I told Tate that I would take care of it.
I told Tate that I would kill Mallory for him.
It was the only thing I could think of. It was the only way to calm Tate down, to have him hold off sending every single soldier he could muster after her. Mallory wouldn't have had a chance in hell of escaping that. Even if I was helping.
So I told Tate to send his best man out, for a day, before he sent the rest of his army.
It was a huge gamble. Tate was hyperventilating, covered in blood, wildly tossing his hand around the room and waving his gun everywhere. He was the very definition of a short fuse.
And then...out of nowhere, and just as I was about to start sweating and then figure out how to get Mallory out of the building alive, Tate had...agreed, and said that I had one day to make sure she was dead before he would bring down all of his combined fury on her...and me.
I had nodded and then ran out of the office as quickly as possible, looking all over for Mallory, trying to think like she would when trying to escape. Just as I had left the room I thought I had noticed Tate talking to the other guy, but in my rush to find Mallory I hadn't paid it any attention.
Which, of course, had made Tate's stone faced assassin's arrival in the supply closet a surprise to me. Of course even though Tate had given me time to get the job done, as soon as I was gone he'd told his other lackey to finish her off, and me too if necessary.
I moved to the counter and ordered two coffees and two loaded breakfasts — eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, hash browns — the works.
After I paid I stood by the counter and leaned against the wall, looking inconspicuous while waiting for our food.
Of course I had never had any intention of actually going through with Tate's orders. Even if the woman who'd seen something she shouldn't have wasn't Mallory.
I wasn't a good guy - I had done terrible things and those terrible things haunted my dreams every night, but I wasn't the kind of guy who could kill an innocent woman in cold blood.
I'd taken the job on the spur of the moment, thinking at the time that if I could just get to Mallory first and keep her safe for long enough, I could get her out of town and then fake some sort of proof to Tate that she was dead.
Or eventually, maybe he'd lose interest. What was critical was getting Mallory out of that building and somewhere Tate wouldn't immediately come looking for her.
It took about 20 minutes before our order came up and I took the drink carrier with two coffees and the plastic bag full of our hot food with me, nodding to the big guy who'd stood in front of me before leaving the diner.
I checked my watch as I left, and quickened my pace back to the apartment building.
Visions of Mallory swirled around in my head, her face, her kiss, her body against me. In such a short time she had made me feel things, emotions, I didn't know I could feel again.
I had to protect that, and I had to protect her. I didn't know if anything that even closely resembled a healthy relationship could come from a setup like we had met under, but if it was at all possible, I was going to try and find a way to make that happen.
But for now, I'd settle for keeping both Mallory and I alive for another day. It wasn't much, but for now it would have to be enough.
At least, for the moment we'd have something warm and tasty to eat.
And then we could figure out how to get out of the city, and where we'd go from here. I knew without a doubt that where Mallory went, I'd go too.
Unlike anyone else I had ever met, she meant that much to me, and I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to her.