8
Everything goes to hell by the end of the following week.
We enter a new routine at the apartment. I stay home and work on improving Zander’s website which, to be honest, I am done with, but I have decided to give him a lot of options. By midafternoon, Van gets home, and I either watch him do his homework, which is not much, given how close it is to school ending, while I cook something or occasionally help him with it. He likes to read out loud the book his class is reading in English, and I like listening to his voice. Then, either just before I serve up dinner or after, Zander arrives home.
Every night he enters looking like he is carrying the weight of the world, and instead of letting any of that out by talking to me, he keeps hiding his obvious distress from Van and me. He doesn’t take time for himself, sitting with Van in front of the TV until it is his bedtime, playing some Medieval game that involves swords, axes, and other brutal looking weapons.
I don’t see the appeal, and I don’t think Zander really feels like doing it, but Van sure loves it. He’s vocal when they play, and many times it involves yelling at either Zander or the TV. Sometimes, I listen to him laughing, too.
After the third night of this, I asked Zander if he thought playing that game every night was a good idea, given how violent it seems. When he responded that this is the first time since their parents had passed that Van had gotten the game out, one that he used to be obsessed with and loved, I could see why he was being so lenient. He was seeing the old Van, and they also looked like they might be bonding over it.
Van still antagonizes Zander, and Zander still slips up, perhaps on purpose, and calls him Vaughn, which always leads to an argument. I have heard many embarrassing things about Zander that Van has blurted out to me, as well as the name Agnes getting a good workout. Regardless, things are generally calmer between them. They are getting closer to where they need to be.
A new part of our routine happens after Van goes to sleep. I get ready for bed, and Zander follows suit an hour or so later, after going over whatever is still out on his dining room table.
When I first saw the piles of papers and newspapers, I thought it was a pile of mess or perhaps a hoarder’s wet dream, given the many newspapers. However, I have had the chance to look a little closer now and found it isn’t a mess at all.
The piles are stacked neatly into a certain order. The newspapers are assembled by date, and the papers, from what I can see, are copies of police reports, which are also piled in order of location and date. Zander said it is from an ongoing case. Whatever it is, it isn’t something that he apparently needs to focus on full-time.
Honestly, I think he takes the time alone to wrap his head around everything that he’s seen.
When he comes into his bedroom, we always find ourselves in the same position. Zander hugs me to his chest, and I wrap my arm around him tightly. Our bodies touch, but only for comfort and support. I sometimes think this is Zander’s way of protecting me. And I can’t say it doesn’t help me feel a little better about the situation, having a kind touch to wipe away the thoughts of the evils I know exist.
I feel safe in his arms and doubt I would sleep as well without him next to me. But I also think this is as much for Zander as it is for me.
He has seen those awful videos, and I know it’s eating away at him. Therefore, holding me and having me in his arms reminds him that, by helping me that night, he saved me from that happening to me. And maybe feeling me against him all night gives him more strength to get back up and do it all again the next day.
Since I feel safe with Zander and staying in his apartment, my new concern becomes not about Brian finding me, but that this new routine that I like a lot is going to be ending soon.
What excuse will I have to stay over here when it’s safe for me to go home?
Sasha calls me every afternoon on Van’s phone and informs me on how grumpy all the boys are. Even though I don’t know her very well, she chats like we are old friends. There is never any uncomfortable silence between us. I suppose she was serious when she told me we were going to be friends.
Since Zander and the others are keeping mostly to themselves as they search over the videos for clues, I let go completely of the fear that Zander might be in danger. I forget to worry about Van, and that this is no situation a kid should be anywhere near.
We have evidence that will put a lot of bad people away. It feels like we have the upper hand. It seems certain that Brian, and whoever else can be identified, are going to jail no matter what happens now.
Zander mentioned just last night that they were close to finalizing the evidence and will soon be ready to do the handover to his cop friend. He also confided that he has a trusted contact in the DA office who is going to get a copy of everything, as well.
It is so close to being over, so instead of worrying about Zander and Van, I am stuck on thoughts about how this is going to change things for me.
Another new facet I have learned about myself from this situation is that I’m selfish.
Theoretically, I should have been safe with Zander and Van in their home. And I can’t even begin to imagine how on earth I could be discovered being here. But I soon realize my location is no longer hidden.
After giving the scenario far too much thought over the past few weeks, I figure, if I ever find myself close to Brian, some sort of gut feeling will sound off to give me some warning. Now that I know he is evil, I will be able to sense him, right? Or, at least sense the impending danger falling upon me?
I suppose those things only happen in movies, or wild retellings of stories that suddenly seem overdramatic. Or maybe it’s just me, and my body and brain can’t sense evil or danger for shit.
With the way my luck has been since I found out what Brian really is, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that they chose a perfect time to attack.
Zander leaves early to go into the office, even though it is a Saturday. This is the last weekend he will be stuck there because, as of Monday, he is doing a handoff to his cop friend, and then the ball should start rolling fast on everything.
He mentioned they have identified many more perpetrators, and Declan and Joey have been finding more evidence against those people to make their cases ironclad. Now that they know who to look at, it is much easier to see where they are making mistakes and leaving clues incriminating themselves.
Everything is wrapping up now, and part of me is relieved.
Brian won’t be a problem soon. Or, at least he shouldn’t be.
“Ava, come play against me,” Van calls out, gaining my attention and making me realize I have been drying the same cup for five minutes.
He is already turning on the TV and setting up his console.
“I don’t know how to play that one,” I tell him, hoping my lack of skill will prove too off-putting for him.
“I’ll teach you,” he offers enthusiastically.
I wince, having no doubt my reluctance for the violent game won’t make me a good student. “Don’t you have a racing game or something not so violent?”
“They’re boring.” He rolls his eyes at me like I’m being silly.
“Is boring bad?” I ask stupidly. What twelve-year-old wants boring?
The buzzer goes off by the doorway, and I thank my lucky stars that this discussion can be shelved for now.
“I got it!” Van yells, rushing to where the buzzer is to press the button to speak.
“Who is it?” he barks into it, his tone sounding exactly like Zander’s. Sometimes, they are polar opposites, and sometimes, they are uncanny in their likeness.
“Got a delivery here for Mr. Jameson?” a gruff voice states in a bored tone.
Van looks at me, and I shrug back. Zander never mentioned anything about a delivery.
“I’m not supposed to buzz in strangers,” he explains to me.
A niggling feeling begins to tingle in my gut. Something feels off here. Am I just being paranoid?
“Hello? I just need someone to sign for it,” the voice sounds again.
“You can see the front door from the window over there,” Van mentions, and I quickly make my way over to it, bypassing the couch and leaning over the TV to get the best view.
The guy at the front is wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, not exactly any sort of typical delivery man outfit. Also, I can’t see any package with him.
I glance along the street and see a new man approaching from across the road.
This one I do recognize.
Brian.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp, stepping away from the window so fast I trip over the rug and fall over.
“You okay?” Van cries, rushing over to help me up, but I can’t stop shaking.
He’s here! He found me!
The buzzer at the door sounds again, the noise like a drill going off in my ear.
“Don’t open that door,” I tell Van before scrambling into the kitchen and grabbing Van’s cell phone off the counter. My fingers fumble as I bring Agnes up, a change from the Asshole name Zander was previously under.
“Hey—”
“Brian is here!” I screech out, my fear overwhelming me as I continue to shake.
“Shit, where is he?”
“He’s outside the apartment. There are two of them, and they’re trying to get in,” I hiss.
“I think someone let them in. They’re not there anymore,” Van calls out.
I’m fairly certain my stomach drops out of my body at that news.
“Fuck. You need to get out of there. If they know which apartment you’re in, then a locked door isn’t going to stop them. Get to the fire escape,” Zander barks, his fear coming through clearly, doing nothing to calm me down.
I sprint to the fire escape, but when I glance down, I see another man waiting below. I don’t recognize him, but he’s clearly waiting there for a reason.
“Someone else is there.”
“Shit. Listen, you can’t stay where you are. You need to get out before they get to you both. I’m coming to you. Just stay on the line and get—”
The line goes dead.
“Fuck!” I cry, forgetting and honestly not caring about my audience.
I try to get him back, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Of all the times for him to let his phone die. Unbelievable.
“What do we do?”
“We need to go.” I grab Van’s hand and, not taking anything with us except Van’s phone and the loose change on the table by the door, we sprint to the door.
I take a quick peek out to find the hallway empty before I run toward the elevators, which is already on its way up.
“Stairs!” I yell, dragging him with me to the stairwell.
We fly through the door, Van quickly overtaking me on our stumble downward. When I hear the door open well below us, I tap his shoulder, and then we enter through the third level. It could have been a resident on their way up, but I’m not willing to risk it.
Once we are in the third level hallway, I knock on every door until one opens. It takes eight doors, and by that point, I’m desperate and freaking the hell out.
We barge our way past the shocked man and slam the door shut behind us, ignoring the outraged call of the owner.
“I’m sorry, but we need to hide in here. Some men are after us. They want to hurt us,” I huff out at the older man who takes one look at us, then another, his face not softening in sympathy at all.
“I want no trouble.” He waves his hand in the air like a cutting motion. “I want you out. I don’t die for silly American kids. Get out,” he snaps at us, his English stilted.
“Ava, what did Zander say to do?” Van asks, pulling on my sleeve as his voice shakes.
I think for a moment, momentarily pulling up a blank. What the hell did he say?
Then, one part hits me, his voice repeating in my mind, which I repeat out loud for Van.
“We needed to get out of your apartment.”
“Will they check every apartment for us? Won’t they find us here eventually?” Van squeals, his own panic and fear forcing me to calm down.
“Zander said he’s on his way. He will get here before they make it to our floor.” I try to sound confident, but I think I fail, given Van doesn’t look any less stressed.
“What if he doesn’t get here in time?” he cries, gripping my arm painfully.
Shit. What if he doesn’t make it here? And how will he even know to look for us here? Even if Brian gives up, he will still have someone watching the building to see if we show up. We will be sitting ducks, and this old man definitely isn’t happy about us crashing into his apartment. We will be lucky if he doesn’t call the police on us, and won’t that be a beacon for them.
I glance around the room to find we are facing a different side of the building.
I rush over to his fire escape and look down, not seeing anyone waiting at the bottom. They won’t be expecting us to come down this side.
“Come on; we’ll go out this way.”
I slip the phone into my back pocket then slide the window open as far as it will go. From there, it is a quick trip downward, all while hearing the man shout at us in a different language. I hope he doesn’t draw attention.
Once we hit the ground, I don’t wait to catch my breath. I grab Van’s hand and we sprint around the corner and don’t stop. I have no idea if we are being chased or were seen by anyone, but I’m not going to turn back to find out.
Van is in shape from running up the stairs all the time, so he has no problem keeping up, and then he has no problem being the one to drag me along.
We run in the direction of Zander’s offices, risking a bus to move us along quicker. As we grow closer, though, I get another bad feeling growing inside me.
People on the street are looking alarmed, shocked, scared, and many are running just like we were once we get off on a stop on the same street as Zander’s offices. Some are running toward us, some are running in the same direction as us. There is chaos everywhere, and the nearer we get to Zander’s office, the more the chaos grows tenfold.
I can’t see what has happened, but there is smoke and debris everywhere, and police and fire crews have already arrived.
After taking a few more steps in, I realize that they are all in front of Zander’s building.
Or, what’s left of it.
“Was …? Was Zander in there?” Van whispers.
Amid the screams and sirens, I shouldn’t have even heard him, but I did, each word like a tug on my heart.
Tears are already falling down his face, and the color in his cheeks from all the running bleeds away until he is so pale that he looks faint.
“I … I don’t know. We can’t stay here.” Emotions slam into my body and strangle me.
What have I done? Is Zander dead? Is he badly injured?
“I can’t … I don’t want … What if he’s …?” Van trails off.
I know I’m losing him. He’s going into shock, and I’m not sure I’m not going there right along with him.
What was I thinking giving this case to Zander? He has Van to look out for, and I might have just cost him his life. I should have just let Brian have me and been done with it.
I fumble with Van’s cell phone as I keep a tight grip of his hand, dragging him back the way we came. Van staring at the rubble isn’t going to help him, and being near the cops certainly won’t help me.
I dial Sasha’s number, and she picks up after four, painfully long rings.
“Van?” She sounds surprised.
“It’s me. Have you heard from any of the guys?” I yell into the phone as the noise around me continues to increase.
“No, it’s Saturday. Why would I?” Sasha sounds a little bored. “Where are you? Why is it so noisy?”
“Because my ex found me at Zander’s. Van and I got away, but when we went to the office, it was to find it’s no longer there. It looks like a bulldozer has just plowed through it,” I say, turning away from Van slightly to deliver that last part, not that he looks to be listening.
“What!” Sasha screeches.
“I was talking to Zander earlier, but our call cut out. I thought maybe his phone battery died, but what if …? Sasha, he told us he was working in the office today.”
“Shit, no fucking way. Have you spoken to any of the other guys?” she demands as I hear rustling on her end.
“No, I just called you.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re close to the office, heading west—”
“There’s a church farther down. Hide in there. I’ll call you back in five minutes with an update.”
“Got it,” I tell the dial tone. She already hung up.
Having a destination and a doable mission helps me feel better. The absolute devastation on Van’s face does the opposite. At least with the panic and fear running rampant around us, no one is looking twice at Van.
It takes us ten minutes to make our way to the church, dodging everyone as we go. We don’t receive any phone calls during that time.
Inside the church, there are several people, most of them seeming to be searching for sanctuary from the chaos outside. I don’t like how many people are here, but down a hallway, I notice a public bathroom.
I first check inside to find no one is in here, then drag Van in and lock the door behind us.
I pace the small, confined space, while Van hugs his legs on the floor. It’s cold, and my feet echo on the ground, but I feel numb.
Van’s phone ringing makes me jump, and even Van cries out in fear before realizing what it is. Then we both hold our breaths as I answer. Unfortunately, Sasha doesn’t have the news we want.
She hasn’t heard from Zander and wasn’t able to get Joey on the phone, but she did manage to contact Declan, who is on his way to us.
Once I told her we were hidden in the bathroom, she made me promise not to move. She is adamant about this, though I don’t understand why, until it clicks after we hang up.
She’s worried I’m going to bail. And part of me wants to. I’m the reason for this.
I have no idea how Brian found me, but the fact is, he is looking for me. Because of where I am and who I am with, they became targets.
Zander’s office, destroyed. Possibly his apartment, too.
And what about Zander? What about anyone else who was in that building? Or in a building nearby? How many more lives has Brian destroyed today? And how much blame do I deserve to shoulder for it?
Van sniffles from the corner he’s plopped himself down in, and I crouch down next to him, swinging my arm around his shoulders, which just makes him cry harder.
I might be the blame for some of this, but I can’t abandon Van here.
What if Brian is the one who finds him? What if I leave him and no one comes? I can’t do that. Zander trusted me to look after Van, so that is what I must do. Once Van is somewhere safe, then I should leave.
It feels like hours pass as every anxious second drives me closer to insanity.
Van doesn’t utter a word, and I find I’m too choked up to give him any false hope.
Just when I’m about ready to jump out of my skin, we hear a knock at the door.
I look down at Van, and he looks up at me, terror written on his face.
“Busy,” I call out, wondering if it could be Declan.
“Ava, it’s me,” a muffled voice sounds, but I can’t tell who it is. It could be Zander, but it could also be Declan. In fact, as I quickly rush to unlock the door, I realize it could also be Brian.
“Prove it,” I demand, not sure what proof Declan could offer me if it’s him.
It’s silent for a moment, and my fear begins to peak, but then I hear one word that makes my knees weak.
“Agnes.”
“Thank fuck!” I gasp, quickly unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Zander, who is bruised and bloodied, but most definitely alive.
“You’re okay!” I huff, feeling light-headed with relief.
I quickly step aside as Van leaps to his feet and sprints toward Zander, not stopping until he’s charged into him and nearly knocking him over, his arms wrapped so tightly around Zander that I don’t think even I would be strong enough to loosen his grip. He doesn’t say a word, his small body shaking as he sobs.
“It’s okay, buddy. I’m okay,” Zander tries to soothe him, stroking his head and gripping his shoulders to calm him.
“We saw what was left of the office,” I explain with a shaky voice.
“I’m fine, I promise. I wasn’t in there when the bomb went off.”
“Bomb?” I gasp, feeling faint again.
“That’s what they think happened. I was already outside, running to my car, when it happened. Your phone call saved my life,” he tells me.
I’m glad he’s okay, yet knowing how close to death he was does not make me feel better.
“I can’t believe they bombed your office.” My voice trembles from the lengths that Brian is willing to go. “How did they know about you? How did they find me?” I haven’t left his apartment since my one trip to his office. I have made zero contact with the outside world. There is no way I could have been traced there.
“I don’t know, but I think their intention was to get access to my office and hopefully the USB.”
“How? By blowing it up?” I shout, sounding more than a little hysterical. I take deep breaths to try to calm down.
“Yeah, and by also making it a crime scene. If the evidence was destroyed in the process, then better for them.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” I demand, my voice sounding shrill. “You were nearly blown up! Why the hell were you taking so long with it all? If you had given the USB up already, they wouldn’t have been after you!” I’m flat-out yelling now.
“Ava, you don’t understand. I—”
“I don’t care!” I cut him off. “This is too dangerous. Van nearly lost you!” I accuse, grabbing my hair and pulling hard, closing my eyes as I whisper to myself, “What the hell was I thinking?”
“This isn’t your fault. None of this is—”
“The hell it isn’t!” I can’t hold myself back, even knowing this isn’t the time or the place to be having this argument. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me! I wish I had never stolen your car. I wish I had never met you. I wish Brian would have just finished me off so this could all be over!”
I barely have the last word out before Zander storms fully into the bathroom, backing me up against the wall and boxing me in as he slaps his hand hard against the wall beside my head. Van is still gripping him, so his badass look is a little hindered, but the fury written over his face is still enough to scare me.
“Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking say that! Clarke is a piece of shit, who needs to be brought down. This whole fucking network of sick fucks needs to be taken down. Every victim deserves justice, and without you getting that USB and getting it into the right hands, no justice will come for those women. No justice will come for the women who will be taken in the future. This is the break we needed, and because of it, we’re going to save countless lives. So, don’t you ever regret what you did. I don’t regret a single second.”
I’m taken aback by his words, but it doesn’t ease my guilt.
“It was all for nothing, though. Your office … it’s all gone,” I whisper sadly, unable to clear my voice to speak louder.
“It’s not all gone. I didn’t have it at my office. The evidence is still safe.”
“It is?” I gasp, unsure how I feel about this. Will there be more bombs, then?
“Yes.”
“But I …” I trail off as I realize what he means.
Jerry. He’s talking about Jerry.
I feel a small amount of relief that it wasn’t all for nothing, but I’m still devastated and terrified.
“I’m sorry about everything. I know it was the right thing to do, but I just … I hate what is happening to you both. I hate this whole situation.” Tears fall down my face, and my voice cracks from the emotion and guilt eating away at my insides.
All those things combined is enough to distract me, which is why I don’t even see it coming when Zander leans forward and captures my lips with his own.
It isn’t soft, it isn’t sweet, and it definitely isn’t romantic. It’s feral, and brutal, and bruising. But somehow, it is everything I need, taking away my thoughts and fears, and replacing them with heat and the beginning of desire.
I’m alive. Zander is alive.
All too quickly, though, Zander pulls away, both of us breathing heavy and my knees shake in their effort to keep me standing.
Wow, my first kiss from Zander, and it was incredible.
Then Van makes a noise, and we both glance down at him. He’s still hugging his brother and seeming to show no indication that he plans on changing that anytime soon.
Zander doesn’t look back at me as he touches Van’s head. “We can’t stay here. We need to move. Van, I need you to let go.”
Van doesn’t move one iota, and since Zander is standing in front of me still, I don’t move, either.
“Van, we need to get out of here. Let go of me.”
He shakes his head into Zander’s waist, an exaggerated shake that only further breaks my heart.
“Okay, buddy, how about you hug my neck instead? You don’t have to let go, but move your arms up.”
To make this easier, Zander bends over, and Van shuffles his arms so he’s hugging Zander’s neck. Then, proving just how strong he is, Zander stands up, lifting Van and wrapping an arm around him to support him and probably to take a little pressure off his neck.
“Let’s go,” he tells me, holding his free hand out to me.
We make our way out of the now crowded church, which looks like it’s being set up as some sort of base camp, to outside where Declan has a car parked and is waiting for us.
We are far enough away from the drama that the roads aren’t yet gridlocked or closed off, but it probably won’t be long before they are.
We all scoot into the backseat, and Declan barely waits for the door to shut before he takes off.
I stare out the window, watching the world go by quickly and trying to not freak out. However, between nearly being caught by Brian, having Zander’s office destroyed by a probable bomb, and then that intense kiss, I don’t think I can hold off from having some sort of breakdown.
I lift my hand to touch my bruised lips while unwittingly turning to stare at Zander, seeing he already has his eyes on me.
He’s not smiling. He’s not looking at me with kindness or sympathy. He looks intense, his eyes on my fingers as I brush them over my lips.
Before I can move them away, he rests his free hand on my thigh, his grip tight. He then brushes the inside of my thigh, his touch so close to my crotch that I hold my breath, waiting to see if he intends to do more.
He doesn’t. He leaves his weight there as though he is a brand that is claiming me. Like his touch is keeping me from floating away and ensuring my thoughts stay right here instead of drifting off somewhere more dangerous.
Van is still wrapped around Zander, but his arms hang loosely now as he peers out the window instead of buried in Zander’s clothes. It breaks my heart to see Van so vulnerable, so upset.
I look away from them, glancing back out the window at the passing scenery. I have no idea where we are going, and I’m not sure I care.
Will anywhere be safe for us? Will this be over soon?
As it turns out … Brian still has one more play left.