Chapter Eleven

Blaze

I arrived home in the middle of the night, just the way I wanted it. By the time Rusty woke, my turquoise contacts were back in place, the tattoos had been scrubbed from my skin. The eyeglasses had been crushed to pieces in the trash compacter, and I was clean shaven once again. I couldn’t make my hair grow back any faster, but I could hide my bald head under my trusty old Stetson.

And I didn’t have to go back to work yet. They still thought I was grieving the love of my life. I was, but not in the way they thought.

Once my appearance was back to somewhat normal, I revved up my laptop, and logged into my cable provider, turning it to the station that played mostly news.

This had to have worked. I prayed it had. That they were all dead, that I wasn’t a suspect, that Lucy would soon be released from the program. None of these things were a guarantee, but I had hinged my life on the bets I had made.

I changed into a pair of old sweats, and a T-shirt and sat on the comfy armchair in the corner of my bedroom, laptop poised in my lap, headphones in ears.

I would admit that I felt more than a little obsessive at the moment but I had waited long enough. My happiness hung in the balance of the details.

The clock in the corner of the screen clicked to five am, and the familiar sound filled my ears. The morning news was beginning. Hopefully they wouldn’t leave me hanging too long.

I held my breath as the words Breaking News flashed across the screen, immediately followed by the clever headline, The Ghost has been Ghosted.

That wasn’t news. I had used two bullets on him, just to be sure. It was the sixteen other members I was currently concerned about.

I watched as their names flashed across the screen, counting them among the deceased.

I swore when my own face flashed across the screen, a photo that was taken months before my disappearance. How had they found out?

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I exhaled in relief when I realized they were simply rehashing my disappearance four years ago as the mob’s only other unsolved mystery regarding their own members.

“There are no suspects. With no survivors, and very few close family members, police are unsure how much police effort will be spent solving what was surely an act of well-deserved revenge against the corrupt group.”

I shook my head at the poor word choice. Revenge. That’s where they were wrong. This wasn’t my revenge for deeds against me. It was my redemption for the deeds I had committed under the oath of familia. The final nail in Marco’s coffin. Leaving me free to live my life as Blaze from here on out, not spending every day looking over my shoulder wondering if they were looking for me.  This was of course, providing that I wasn’t caught.

Leaving Lucy free from the same. This was my solemn wish. Her young life had already felt so much pain and upheaval. I now understood the haunted look in her eyes I always caught when she didn’t know I was looking, those times when her mind wandered. I understood why she always seemed slightly hesitant to answer to her own name, and why she often looked like a little girl playing dress up.

I wondered if she had heard the news, and what it meant for her today. Would she spend months tied up in red tape, with her life on hold? I would wait.

My thoughts drifted to my Uncle Sal, and the last time I had seen him. I often forced thoughts of him out of my brain, because it was just too painful. Today, in the wee hours of morning, I allowed my mind to wander.

I didn’t know if he had survived, or where he had ended up, or what he even looked like today. I wasn’t sure what name he went by, or what he did for a living. I hoped he had managed to stay safe, and to build a life for himself. I hoped that wherever he was today, he heard the news, and rejoiced in the knowledge that he was now safe to live out the remainder of his life in peace and freedom. Most of all, I hoped that he was alive, and that one day I would see him again.

The news still hummed through the earbuds, but I had stopped listening. The minutes ticked by slowly, and I counted them off in my head, knowing there were hundreds of thousands to go before I would hear anything about Lucy, assuming I ever did.

One hundred and twenty nine. That’s how many minutes I had counted before Rusty pounded on my locked bedroom door.

“Boss! Hey, Boss! You got company.”

It was seven twenty seven am. In Ranch life, the day had started hours ago. I was surprised Rusty was in the house, and not out with the men.  But, I wasn’t surprised I had a visitor. I was only surprised that he had come so soon.

I perched my Stetson atop my bare head, and pulled on a pair of jeans instead of sweats before unlocking the door, and swinging it open. I hadn’t seen Mike since the farce of a funeral. I had only gone because Rusty and the men wouldn’t let me skip it.

I hadn’t spoken a word to him that day. As far as I had been concerned, he was the one who had taken my Lucy from me. Now, that had changed. I was hoping he would be the one that brought her back.

Mike stepped in, looking as awkward as I felt and Rusty watched from the doorway with a guarded expression.

Mike removed his own hat and held it at heart level. I kept mine on.

Rusty raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you two would like to move this to the kitchen? Perhaps talk over some strong coffee?” The weary expression on his face told me he wished he could offer something much stronger.

I nodded. I was suddenly exhausted. The events of the past days were finally catching up with me. Coffee sounded good.

I let Rusty lead the way to the kitchen, shaking my head at the looks of concern he was casting in my direction. His mother henning had reached new heights in the past few weeks.

Mike and I silently sat across from each other at the large rickety kitchen table. Rusty buzzed around in the background, brewing coffee. He insisted on waiting on us, setting a large steaming mug in front of each of us.

Today, I would let him. Tomorrow, after I had slept, I would say something.

After we had each sipped our coffee and nodded our approval, Rusty tipped his hat and left out the side door in the corner of the kitchen.

Mike and I regarded each other, solemnly. Finally he spoke.

“I heard from Lucy today,” he started.

I raised my eyebrows and smiled sardonically. “Really? From beyond the grave? I’m impressed, Mike. I wouldn’t have pegged you for the séance type.”

Mike rolled his eyes, and lifted his mug to his lips.

I got the message. I was being a dick, and he had the information I wanted. Turns out I was still a little angry.

“I did what I had to do, Blaze. Her safety was literally my job.”

“I understand.” I nodded. I did understand. I just forgot sometimes that I did.

“What do you remember about that day?”

I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him, before deciding to lay it all on the line. All cards on the table. He was the only one who had the information I wanted, and knew that I wanted it. This was my one and only chance to make my case.

“I remember the way the ring felt heavy in my pocket, and the way her dress wrapped around her when the breeze lifted it. I remember her smile just before she started walking towards me. I remember the way the ground shook when her car exploded, and how I didn’t care if my ranch went up in flames so long as she was okay. I didn’t call 911 until after I found her, she was my first and only priority.”

Mike was nodding as he sipped his coffee. I could see the emotion in the worn lines of his face.

“Her name,” I breathed. “I remember her name, and how she didn’t want you to say it, and how she breathlessly told me her story as fast as she could because she knew she wasn’t supposed to but she couldn’t bear to disappear without telling me the truth. I remember I fainted, and when I came to, she was gone, and everyone claimed she was dead, but I knew she wasn’t.”

“You loved her?” he asked, conversationally, stirring his coffee with a spoon.

“I love her,” I corrected stubbornly. “Present tense.”

His eyes were thoughtful as he nodded, staring down at his mug as he spoke. “Did you hear the news this morning?”

I trained my face into an expression of curious oblivion. “Didn’t catch it.”

“Someone killed the mob that was after her. Mass murder, sniper style. No suspects.”

“What, like, the leader?”

“Like the whole damn gang. Every last one of them.”

I leaned back in my chair, and let out a low whistle.

“What does that mean for Lucy? Doesn’t it mean the threat is gone? Will she be released from the program?” I could barely breathe as I waited for his answer. This was, as far as I was concerned, the moment of truth.

Mike mimicked my movements with his own. He was shocked by the news. That much was evident.

“We’re looking into the possibility,” he finally said. “I’d like to see it happen, but it’s not up to me.”

All I could do was nod.

“Might take a while,” Mike continued.

I nodded again.

“She might decide she wants to go back home to the city.”

I shook my head, dismissing the idea. I wasn’t worried about that. She’d want to see her family, assuming she had one, but this was her home. She had been happy here. God willing, she would be again. This time, as my wife.

We sat in stubborn silence lost in our own thoughts until Mike broke it, cursing under his breath.

“Dammit, I love her too,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Not supposed to get attached to our charges, you know, but I’ve been out of the game a long time. Betty and I came to care for her. We loved her like one of our own.”

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Bring her home, Mike. Home where she belongs.”

This time when he nodded, I could see the determination in his eyes, and the set of his jaw as he stood and prepared to leave.
“I’m damn well gonna try, Blaze. I’m damn well gonna try.”

*****

Blaze

After Mike left, I saddled up my favorite mare, Jewel and rode the trails out to my favorite spot on the ranch. The last time I had gone had been with Lucy, the day I taught her to ride. I sat there for hours, with only my horse for company, lost in thoughts of a reality in limbo. Praying for everything to work out. That the police would see the murder for what it was, an act of mercy for a terrorized city, and stop searching for the killer. I prayed that the agents would see that any threat to Lucy had been eliminated and release her from the program. And I prayed that someday I would see my Uncle Sal.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the click of hooves on the dirt trail as someone approached until their presence cast a shadow over me. I was lying on my back in the grass, with my arm over my eyes to protect them from the sun, and I squinted up at the newcomer, drawing a sigh of relief when I recognized Rusty and his horse, Aristotle.

“Everything okay?” I asked in concern as I watched him dismount.

“Everything’s fine, boss.” He nodded, matter-of factly. “Just wanted to talk, and I figured I’d find you here. Mind if I sit?”

Squinting at the sun, I realized hours had passed while I sat. “Always welcome, Rusty.”

I watched as the weathered old cowboy lowered himself to sit cross legged beside me. His jaw worked from side to side as he sat in silence. He was making me more than a little nervous. I didn’t think I could take any bad news today.

“You hear about that mafia massacre, out in New York?”

Whatever I had been expecting, it wasn’t that. My heart stopped beating for a full three seconds, and my hands were sticky with sweat.

“No, Hoss. New York got nothing to do with me.” I had never told Rusty anything about my past. As far as he knew, I was a born and bred Texan. He had never asked, and I had never told.

“Someone took out seventeen members of the Sicilian Kings with only eighteen bullets, shooting from a rooftop across the street. Sniper style. Got to be a pretty good shot to pull off something like that.”

“Guess so.”

“Gotta have a pretty big axe to grind to risk something like that.”

“Maybe. Aren’t they just a bunch of bad dudes, though? Maybe it was just some vigilante shit, ridding the city of crime, one bad guy at a time. You know, like Batman, or something,” I joked, because it was all I could do.

Rusty looked straight at me and shook his head slowly from side to side. “Cut the crap, Marco,” he said, calling me by my given name. What the fuck? Shocked out of my gourd, I leapt to my feet, with my hands balled into fists in front of me, like I would really fight him. I wouldn’t, but I was pissed off and freaked out.

Rusty threw back his head and laughed. Loudly. “I’m not going to fight you, sonny-boy.” His voice changed instantly, losing that Texas drawl I had grown fond of over the years. He sounded like a New Yorker. He sounded a lot like my Uncle Sal.

I shook my head as tears of confusion welled behind my eyes. What in the hell was going on? Rusty didn’t seem angry or accusatory-he seemed happy. I backed up, trying to put distance between myself and my overwhelming emotions.

“What the hell?” I croaked, unable to form coherent thoughts.

Rusty stepped towards me slowly, hands in the air. “It’s okay, Marco. It’s me.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“They are gone. We don’t have to hide anymore.” I shook my head in disbelief. I understood fully what he was telling me, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Surely, it couldn’t be this easy.

“What are you saying?”

“Familia,” came the broken whisper. It told me what I needed to know, and I hit the ground gasping for air.

“What? How? You don’t even look like yourself!”

“Same way you did, I suppose, colored contacts, a mouthpiece, hair dye, a new wardrobe, and oh yeah, facial reconstruction surgery.”

Facial reconstruction surgery was the one thing I had not done. I stood, and walked all the way up to him, laying my hands on his weathered face, tracing the lines I had looked at every day for three and a half years.

“Most people who get facial reconstruction are trying to look younger,” I joked.

“I needed to look like an old rancher. I always knew where I would end up, Marco.”

“How? How?” I gasped, still processing through the information. “You knew so much about ranching.”

“Internet.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I had lots of time to research while my face healed. Besides, running a ranch isn’t so different from running a restaurant.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Why did we have to hire a cook? Why are we living off spam and beans again?”

He raised his eyebrows, and shook his head with a smirk. “Boy, if I cooked one meal for you, you’d have known. I am an Italian cook. It’s in my blood. And my food? You were raised on it. That shit’s in your heart.”

He was right. Even now, just the thought of Sal’s home cooking had my mouth watering. “Well, I know now, and it’s getting to be dinner time.”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily, and this time I joined him.

“So it is, sonny. So it is.”

He looked at me, and I at him, and I found myself wrapped in a familiar embrace for the first time in many years. When we pulled away, there were tears in both our eyes. We coughed and wiped them away like men, and mounted our horses, turning them towards home as one.