CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sam
“Knowing is not enough; we must apply.
Willing is not enough; we must do.”
-Goethe
Hiring a prostitute is a lot easier than buying a gun or a kilo of cocaine.
And neither of those were a real strain, considering I have virtually no experience with the criminal element.
I wanted to meet with the woman we tracked down through a dating app—my Spanish is better than Danny’s and I didn’t want her to be freaked out by meeting someone as large as Danny in a dark alley. But he said she was more likely to remember the details of being hired by a woman than a man and I had to admit he was right.
So I prepped him in advance and kept my phone in my lap while he went to the meeting, just in case he needed help answering any of the woman’s questions. Turns out, her English was probably better than my Spanish and she and Danny had all the details of the “surprise” for his buddies worked out in ten minutes.
Late Tuesday afternoon, Danny will meet her near the market, pay half her fee, and drop her off at The Seasons. From there, she’ll call up to J.D.’s and Jeremy’s rooms and guide them to the location of the private party, allegedly organized by their friend “Todd”, the name Danny gave her when they met. She assumes she’ll be meeting Todd and a couple of other prostitutes at the small house we’ve rented for the night, where they’ll party and she’ll receive the other half of her fee.
Instead, Danny and I will be waiting with masks on just inside the door.
I’m in charge of knocking the woman out with a choke hold and then dosing her with enough ketamine to keep her knocked out for an hour or so; Danny’s in charge of knocking the men out, administering their dose of the knockout drug, and getting them into the trunk of the rental car.
From there, our paths will diverge. Danny will take J.D. and Jeremy out to the pit he’s dug in the jungle, and I’ll take Rosa back to her apartment, where I’ll leave her with the other half of her money.
“That’s it,” Danny says, leaning forward to write down the number of Rosa’s apartment building. “Fourteen twenty-three.”
We’ve been following Rosa—or whatever her real name is—for over three hours. From the alley where she met with Danny, to a swanky hotel where she went upstairs with a man twice her age, to the market where she bought milk, fresh fruit, and tampons, and now to this crumbling apartment building near the southern edge of Liberia.
“This is good.” I study the entrance as Danny and I walk by, the hoods of our sweatshirts pulled up against the cool wind. The temperature dropped suddenly tonight and though it’s still in the high sixties, it feels cool after eighty-degree days. “There’s a lobby with a sofa in front of the mailboxes. She should be safe there until she wakes up, with two locked doors between her and the street.”
“Are you going to be able to carry her in?” Danny asks. “Even if you park close, there are ten steps up to the lobby.”
I make a scoffing noise. “She’s about as big around as my thigh. I think I’ll manage.”
“She is tiny.” He puts his arm around my waist with a sigh. “I feel bad for her. I know there’s nothing we can do, but…”
“I know.” I lean into him as we turn the corner, starting back toward the well-lit streets of the Centro where we parked the car. “I would say that maybe being drugged will give her a wake-up call that it’s time to find other work, but it’s not like prostitution is any woman’s first choice. I’m sure she doesn’t feel like she has other options or she wouldn’t be selling herself.”
“Is this fucked up?” Danny asks, his voice low. “Feeling bad for a prostitute when we’re planning to kill a man?”
I consider the question, a faint niggle of guilt tugging at the back of my mind. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I don’t think right and wrong are as simple as some people would have you believe.”
“Sounds like something my sister would say.”
“I wish I knew her better,” I say. “I remember what you said last summer, about her and Gabe still stealing things. Do you know why?”
He shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it, but I think it’s their way of feeling like they’re giving back. They both have a Robin Hood complex, always looking out for the underdog.”
“Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor?”
“Something like that,” he says, before continuing in a wry tone. “But it’s part entertainment, too. I think they get off on the rush of breaking the law and not getting caught.”
I blink, surprised. “Wow…that’s… I don’t know. I’d rather go surfing.”
“Me too,” he says with a laugh. “Or mountain-biking or cliff camping. That’s my idea of a rush.”
His smile fades as he shoves his hoodie off his head with one big hand. “I never thought I’d be like them. Not that I judge them or think I’m better than they are or anything. I just…didn’t see myself going that way.”
My throat tightens, but I don’t pull away. I’m learning not to run, even when being close scares me. “Do you think you’ll resent me someday? When it’s all over and you’ve had time to regret everything we’re doing?”
“Never,” he answers immediately.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” His fingers curl into my shoulder. “I’ve always known the world isn’t fair, but this goes so far beyond unfair. They’re criminals, and criminals shouldn’t be able to hurt people and walk away without a mark on them. That’s what I believe and I’m not going to regret standing up for it. Or for you.”
We both fall quiet, Danny holding me close to his side as he scans the street, watchful for potential threats. I wonder if he’s thinking about that night in Auckland, when we were almost mugged.
No matter how dangerous it was, I’m glad I fought back. I never want to be a victim again.
But I don’t want to be one of the bad guys, either.
“Should we call Rosa and cancel?” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to face Danny in the dim light of the flickering street lamp at the end of the block.
“No! Why?” His brow furrows. “I’m just talking, Sam. I’m not second-guessing the plan. It’s solid. Way better than mine. This way, J.D. and Jeremy never see our faces and the only person who can connect us to them is a prostitute who isn’t going to want to talk to the police.”
“I know, but what if I hurt her?” I ask. “What if she has a bad reaction to the drug? Or what if she slips out of the chokehold and I have to fight her? I could end up breaking her nose or—”
“You’re not going to break her nose,” Danny says. “You know what you’re doing and the ketamine will keep her out. And she’s not going to expect you to be grabbing her from behind. She’ll be out before she has a chance to fight back.”
“But there is a chance something will go wrong and she’ll pay the price for it,” I insist. “That’s the reality. I’m justifying hurting this woman because someone hurt me. I’m sure that kid who tried to mug us last summer was doing the same thing. Someone hurt him and so he decided to hurt us and take what he needed to survive.”
Danny shakes his head. “It’s not the same thing, Sam.”
“It’s close enough. Maybe too close.” I close my eyes, pinching the aching places at the backs of my lids together with my finger and thumb. “I don’t know. I don’t know where to draw the line anymore.”
“And that’s okay. That’s why I’m here,” he says, fingers circling my wrist, tugging my hand away from my eye sockets and giving it a gentle shake. “Look at me.”
I open my eyes and look up into his shadowed face.
“This isn’t going to be easy. Breaking the rules never is,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean some of them don’t need to be broken. J.D. and Jeremy need to be taught a lesson. And Todd has to die. If he lives, you know he’s going to hurt someone else, a hell of a lot worse than you’ll hurt Rosa. He’ll probably hurt a lot of people.”
“I know.” I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“There’s only one reason to change the plan,” Danny says. “And that’s if you think you’re going to be exchanging one thing that will eat you alive for another. That’s what Caitlin said to me when I first started talking about revenge. She didn’t tell me not to, just not to get caught, and not to do it if I couldn’t walk away from it after and find a way to be happy.”
I lift my hands to Danny’s chest, letting them rest there, feeling his muscles strong and solid beneath my palms. “Until that night at the hot spring… I didn’t think I remembered how to be happy.”
“I know.” He covers my hands with his, warming my cool fingers. “So maybe things have changed now. That’s okay, too. It’s okay to change your mind. I’m with you, no matter what you decide. I’m going to be fine either way, as long as I know we’re together.”
We stand in silence, but I can’t concentrate on anything except the feel of his heartbeat pulsing steadily beneath my fingertips.
Precious heart. Precious chest.
Can I put them in more danger? No matter how solid the plan or how much I need to see justice done? Does it take more strength to follow through with what I’ve started or to walk away?
Maybe Danny and I can be free without this. Maybe all I have to do is let go and give myself permission to be happy again.
Happy, while the man who looked you in the eyes and smiled while men raped you goes free, using this easy escape as a reason to believe he is above the law.
Untouchable.
Unstoppable.
And the next time he hurts someone, her blood will be on your hands as much as his.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Then we don’t do anything.” He takes my hand in his and squeezes tight. “We’ll let things stand for now. We’ve got three more days. Come Tuesday morning, if you’ve changed your mind, we can call things off with Rosa then. You don’t have to decide right now. Midnight decisions are never a good idea anyway.”
I glance sharply up at him, eyes widening. “You’re kidding me. It’s not midnight.”
“Not kidding.” He slips his phone from his pocket and hits the button, illuminating the screen showing that’s it’s nearly a quarter after twelve. “And I told Paola I’d help her lead the first zip line tour tomorrow since Henri pulled his shoulder. We should head back.”
“All right.” Holding on to his hand, we set a faster clip through the Centro and back to the car. We don’t talk much on the way back to the cabin or while getting ready for bed.
But when we’re beneath the covers, Danny turns to me and pulls me into his arms, whispering, “Whatever you decide, Sam. Really. There will never be any judgment from me, either way.”
And then he makes love to me with an honesty that makes me believe him. But even though it feels so right to be in his arms and I know he’s telling the truth, I keep thinking back to the things he said last summer when we were on the verge of falling apart, when he made it clear he rises or falls according to my lead.
Last year, I tumbled off the pedestal he’d put me on and dragged him down with me. He fell off the wagon and had been ready to break important promises he’d made to his family all because I’d failed to be the hero he’d thought I was.
I know it’s not right to expect myself to be strong and good for two people, but what’s right and what’s true are rarely the same thing.
Danny and I have already admitted that we aren’t whole without each other. Maybe we’ll always be that way. Maybe falling in love so young and making forever promises when we had no idea how long forever could be has crippled us as individuals. Alone, we probably aren’t what psychiatrists would consider stable, but together we are solid, unstoppable.
But it has almost always been my job to put on the brakes, to decide whether we should use our unstoppable energy for good or to call a time out when we’re getting close to doing something we shouldn’t. I wasn’t up to the job last year and I’m not sure I’m up to it now.
I only know that I love him, this man who wraps his arm around my waist and curls his strong body into mine with an intensity that makes it clear he’d shelter me from every hurt in the world if he could. He is our heart. I am our conscience. And if I don’t want to put both of us at risk again, I need to start doing my job.
I need to decide what’s more important—revenge or the safety of the man I love—and I have to decide quickly.
The clock is ticking and lives hang in the balance. Not just Todd’s life, or J.D.’s or Jeremy’s, but mine and Danny’s and the lives of the people who love us, who will suffer the aftershocks of the decisions we make.
Decisions that once made can never be unmade, no matter how many nights I lie in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if I should have done things differently.