Quinn

I want to say I walked into the courtroom like a boss. I want to, but I’m not prone to lies. Instead, I held my head high, focused on taking one step after another, and faked it. The aisles were full of people. Some I recognized and wished I didn’t, and others I speculated. As I lifted my right hand to swear in, the narrowed gaze of the men I swore were a part of the gang rattled me. I knew all too well what they were capable of. Clutching the edge of my skirt, I answered the questions thrown my way. It was like being in a mudslinging fight as the defense lawyer tried to get me to admit I wasn’t sure his client was the right man.

“Do you mean to tell me despite your duress, the dark hooded clothing, and the poor lighting, you can say with one hundred percent certainty, my client is the man who committed these heinous crimes against Oliver Hemnway?”

“With all due respect, sir, there are some faces you don’t forget,” I reply quietly.

“I have no further questions, your honor.” Mr. Dominguez spins on the heels of his shiny shoes and returns to his table.

“You may leave the stand, Ms. Fleming,” the judge says.

I nod my head and stand on shaking feet. He’s there. The man who nearly took Ollie’s life, and planned to do God knows what. He’s watching me with those fathomless black eyes, and smirking like he knows something I don’t. My stomach sours.

I force my hand to remain open at my sides as I retrace my steps across the floor. My vision blurs, and I struggle to contain the tears. I won’t let them see how close they’ve come to breaking me. Was this enough? Did I sound convincing? My gaze latches onto the door where I know Carter, Johnson, and Ollie wait.

The creak of a seat turns my head to the right. I focus a split second before I’m knocked to the floor by a body. My head bounces off the floor, and I fight the darkness as I tuck my feet close to my chest and push. The weight flies off me, and I scramble back in a crab walk. Allie. She lunges at me again. Stumbling to my feet, I throw a right hook followed by a jab that sends her flailing back into the arms of a uniformed man. I’m surrounded by a small army of officers and quickly escorted out.

“What the hell happened?” Carter barks.

“Some woman attacked her out of the blue.”

“We need to lock both of them down.”

“It was Allie.”

“Shit. It was my son’s mother. It’s not gang related,” Ollie says as he cups my face and tilts it back. “Are you okay, sassy?”

“I have a massive headache.”

“They’re going to clear the courtroom, you cannot be here when that happens,” Carter states.

“I think she’s got a concussion,” Ollie says, turning my head as he stares into my eyes.

“And you’re a medical expert?” Carter retorts.

“No, but I’m an ex-skateboarder. So I know the signs better than most,” he snarks.

“We’ll get her checked out after we reach the hotel,” Johnson says.

Wincing, I press my fingers to my pounding temples. Jostled and guided by officers, my stomach spins. We step outside, and I inhale deep, willing my stomach to settle. I will not hurl. I will not hurl. I will not hurl. We’re shuffled inside the town car. The first ting almost goes unnoticed. Two more follow, and I throw myself onto the ground as shots are returned. Ollie throws himself over me, and I curl into a ball.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty sure Carter and Johnson are shooting back.” The doors open, and they fling themselves inside.

“Punch it, Johnson.”

Relief fills me as we speed away from the courthouse. Our testimony is complete. Whatever happens now is out of our hands.

“Are you okay?”

His words make me realize I’m crying. My body shakes as I release all the pent-up pressure.

“What happened?” Ollie asks as he pulls me into his lap and keeps us planted on the floor.

“We took some fire. From one of Santiago’s flunkies, I’m sure. I ended up hitting one in the shoulder, and he ran off. It’s total chaos right now. People are flooding out of the courtroom. Cops are coming in. We need to get you guys to a secure location,” Carter explains, peering at us over the seats. “Is everyone okay?”

“I’m okay,” I croak.

“Me too,” Ollie adds.

“Make sure we’re not being followed,” Carter demands.

“I’m on it,” Johnson says.

I close my eyes, grateful for the familiarity of these three men.

“Hey. You can’t sleep.”

I force my eyes open. “Huh?”

“You can’t sleep. You might have a concussion. I’m sorry Allie did that. She’s completely misplaced her anger.”

“She’s never going to see it that way. She needs someone to blame, and I’m a convenient scapegoat. I don’t think she’s going to come at me again, though.”

“What happened in there?”

“I was leaving the courtroom, and she launched herself like a damn missile. I had no clue who it was. Once I was on my back, it was kill or be killed. I got my legs up under me, kicked her off, and then when she lunged at me again, I socked her in her eye.”

“Jesus.”

“I sympathize, but I’m no one’s punching bag.”

“No, you did the right thing, sassy. I’m just sorry that it happened.”

“Me too. I’m hoping like hell it’s not going to taint the trial. I need this to be over. I want to move on with my life, and I can’t while we’re wrapped up in this insanity.”

He nods his head. “I know. It’s all I can do to keep it together while his lawyer tries to play on the client’s conscious with the no father, working mother with little money, and fell in with a bad crowd story. How anyone can look at that man and not see pure evil is beyond me.”

“His eyes scare me. There’s no humanity left in them. He’s a wild animal ready to lash out, hunt, and kill. He stared me down the entire time I spoke.”

“Did you look back?”

“No, I was afraid I’d freeze up,” I admit sheepishly.

“He terrified me. There’s no shame in being afraid of a dangerous man. That’s survival instinct kicking in.”

“We’re not going back to the hotel. We’re concerned it might be compromised,” Carter says.

“Great,” I mumble.

“I’m guessing you’re not going to tell us where,” Ollie says dryly.

“You’re starting to learn,” Carter shoots back.

“I think that’s the nicest you two have been to one another,” I mutter.

Ollie snickers. “’Cause we both know our time together is coming to an end soon. Thank God. Are you feeling well enough to get into a seat?”

“I think so,” I answer as he pulls back and we untangle our limbs.

***

THE NEW ROOM WE’RE settled in is worse than the last one. Small, off-white, and mid-grade in quality, the first thing I do is ditch the comforter I know hasn’t been washed in months. My mouth waters. No. I place a hand on my stomach.

“Still feeling sick?” he asks.

“Yes, and the stale smell of the room isn’t helping me.”

“You know we can’t open the window.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“How’s your head feeling?”

“Throbbing, but not as bad.” Sinking down on the bed, I stare at the bathroom.

“Let me get you a cool washcloth.” He stalks off, and I lay down on my back and try to decompress.

Carter and Johnson are in the connecting rooms making phone calls and checking in. They’ll run to the store for food and clothing, and then one of them will be bunking with us in the double bed on the other side of the room. Suddenly I’m longing for the cabin.

“Come on, sit up, and I’ll turn on the television, so you can have a distraction that’ll help you stay awake.” He presses the cold compress to my forehead and the throbbing eases. I lean my head against him and stare at the screen without focusing. The connecting door opens.

“We’re coming in, guys. They got the scene settled, collected evidence, and rescheduled the court date for tomorrow,” Johnson explains.

“Did they catch anyone?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not yet. Carter went on a clothing and food run, and we have a doc coming out to check on you, okay?”

“All right.” By now, they know what we eat and what we don’t.

“So, what happens next?” Ollie asks.

“We wait to see how the trial goes and buckle down. It could’ve been his people taking a pot shot because of the opportunity or it could’ve been more personal.”

Meaning they’re still trying to kill us.

“Our testimony’s been given. They can’t undo that,” I say, confused.

“Yes, but if the jury is hung or a mistrial happens, you’ll be needed again.”

The thought of more time living like this makes my head throb and my stomach gurgle.

“Excuse me.” I quickly stand, and jog to the bathroom where I close the door, hit my knees, and empty my stomach. My life is spiraling once more, and the rapid descent has me out of sorts. Today was meant to be the final step in ending the chaos. Instead, it’s more of the same. After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I flush and move to the sink. I rinse out my mouth, splash water on my face, and pray the towels are at least semi clean as I dry off. A light rapping comes on the door.

“Sassy, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m all right.” I brace myself against the sink.

“You want me to come in there?”

“No, I’m coming out.”

I push away from the sink and walk out to a worried Ollie.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

I roll my eyes and move to sit on the bed, propping myself up against a pillow. “Can I rest?”

“Yes, I’ll keep monitoring you every hour.” Ollie places a kiss on my forehead. I want to ask him how he feels, but I don’t have the strength or energy, so I close my eyes and zone out.

***

OLLIE

I hold Quinn’s hand as we wait for the phone to ring. Today we get the verdict. We’re hoping for two counts of robbery and attempted murder. They recovered his fingerprints in the area and some of his DNA on my clothing. I’d gotten some good enough licks in to draw blood. How they could let him walk with that coupled with our eye witness accounts, I don’t know, but stranger things have happened. The phone rings and I close my eyes and picture Rolly. This is the closest to gaining justice for him as I can come. If he walks, I can’t guarantee I won’t take things into my own hands.

“Carter. Yeah? You got it? ... Yeah, I’m ready. ... Yeah. Okay. I’ll tell them.”

“They charged Santiago with attempted murder in the second degree, and two counts of aggravated robbery. They gave him twenty years for the robbery, and twenty for the attempted murder. He’s going to be locked down for a while.”

I thought I’d be happy. Instead, I’m pissed. Forty years when my boy only had four, seems like nothing. Quinn throws herself into my arms, and I hold her close as she sobs.

“It’s over. Thank God, it’s finally over.”

I rock her, absorbing her pain as the rage burns brightly in my belly. She’s coming to the end of her journey, and I’m just starting mine. I’ve moved on to a new stage, no more pleasant than the previous one. Clutching the hair she’s kept straight to change up her appearance, I bury my face in her neck.

“I want to go home, but I don’t have one. Not anymore,” she whispers.

“Your home is with me. We’ll find a new one together.” She pulls back and clutches my shirt, and I study her face. The doctor diagnosed her with a slight concussion which should have dissipated by now. It’s been three days, and she still seems off.

She opens her mouth.

“As much as I hate to break up the love fest, this is where we’ll part ways.”

“Tonight?” I ask.

“Time is money, and our local department isn’t equipped financially to handle long-term protection. Now if you feel the need to be relocated permanently, we can put in for a file.”

“No,” we chime together.

“I can respect that, but I suggest you stay armed and watch your backs,” Carter says.

“I understand,” I say with a nod of respect. He doesn’t seem so awful when I know I’ll be leaving him behind. “How does this work?”

“We’ll drop you off at a safe location of your choosing and return your phones and keys.” The only place I want to be is away from Carter and back to being free.

“Take us to the Hilton at Lincoln center,” I say.

“Once Johnson gets back we’ll take the trip. That gives you guys enough time to get everything together, doesn’t it?”

“More than enough,” Quinn agrees.

He stands and makes his way to the connecting room. Finally.

“You okay, Quinn? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“There’s a lot going on. I’m ...” She frowned. “Digesting.”

“Seems like more than that—”

“I’m fine,” she snaps.

Arching my eyebrow, I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I’m stressed and overwhelmed. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“So say that. No one expects you to be Super Woman.”

“I do.”

“Even Super Woman had back up and days off.” I lean down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her lackluster answer concerns me. Maybe she’s tired? The quiet spreads as the minutes tick by like molasses and we make sure the little we have is packed. I want to probe, but I know she’ll shut me down until she’s ready to talk, so I hold my tongue and wonder if what I thought was the start of a new phase might’ve been the final nail in our coffin. We’ve been through more than most married couples experience in decades. Part of me wants to push her away before she can hurt me. The other part, the larger portion, squashes the idea. She’s never let me down. I can only return the unfailing dedication. Life is bleak, but without her, it’s a total blackout.

***

“I WANT TO SAY I’LL miss you, but I’m not in the habit of lying,” Carter says as we shake hands in front of the Hilton hotel.

“The feeling is mutual. Thank you for protecting us.”

“You got a good woman there. Might want to lock that down permanently.”

I smirk. “You get tired of her turning you down?”

“Oh no, I love a challenge. You screw up I might just come back around.”

I open my mouth to tell him where he can go, when she places a hand on my shoulder, done with her good-byes to Johnson.

“Thank you again for everything.”

“My pleasure. You ever need anything, you look me up, okay?” He winks.

“We’re no longer under your protection. You make one more pass at my woman, and we’re going to have a problem.”

Carter laughs. “Been waiting for you to do that.” He salutes us both and walks away with Johnson who shakes his head.

“Stay safe guys,” Johnson delivers a parting statement.

“And then there were two. I know we have our cell phones, but I don’t have enough desire or energy to open up that can of worms.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

“Quinn?”

“I’m tired, Ollie. Bone deep, soul level exhaustion. I could sleep for twenty-four hours, and still feel drained. Give me a chance to get my bearings and recharge. I thought I’d be relieved when he got sentenced. I don’t. I’m lost. I’m confused, and uncertain about the future. Are they going to keep coming after us? I have a business to run. I can’t go into hiding. To stop doing what I love would be a slow death.”

“Are you thinking about quitting?” I ask, stunned.

“I don’t know what to think. That’s the problem. I don’t do well with the lack of direction or planning. I need time.”

“Without me?”

“What? No? Is that what you want?”

“Wherever you are is where I want to be,” I say honestly. I have no problem being transparent. The rest of my life feels like is occurred light years ago. It’s distant and removed from my present. Of course it does, I’ve been all but locked away from it for nearly a month.

“Then let’s go inside, grab a room, a real shower in a clean bathroom, and call room service.”

“I like that plan.” It’s a small decision, but it’s ours, and that feels better than turning eighteen and leaving my mother’s house. You never appreciate freedom until it’s taken away. The brightly lit hotel is a beacon as we move out of the night and into the light. I want it to be a sign of what’s to come. Even now I can feel the cold claws of depression and grief ripping into me. Is it okay to accept this as justice? How can one ever truly get over the loss of a child? Every instance of joy feels wrong because he’s no longer here. I coast on autopilot as we step inside and I book us a suite. After the cabin and the crappy hotel with questionable cleanliness, we deserve an upgrade.

***