Otherwise Unharmed

Chapter 16—Narrow Miss

As much as I wanted to take my Barrett somewhere private and spend a lot of time with it, I was going to have to wait until I moved Lia to another location. I tossed the bag over my shoulder, and the familiar weight felt fantastic. I wasn’t sure how Jonathan had managed to get evidence away from the Chicago police, but I was definitely grateful.

Lia had both herself and Odin ready to go when I arrived. I called a cab because I didn’t want her seen any more than absolutely necessary, and any form of public transportation wasn’t fast enough for me at this point. I watched out the window for the cab to arrive and then ushered both Lia and Odin downstairs.

As soon as I walked outside, he was there—the kid with the bomb strapped around his waist. I tensed and fought against the urge to pull my gun out and start firing. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and looked again, but he was still there. He didn’t move—only stood there with tears running down his cheeks.

“Let’s get out of here.” I opened the back door of the cab and held Lia’s hand as she climbed in.

The cab driver looked more like a chauffeur than a usual cabbie. He had on one of those captain-style hats and dark glasses. He helped load Lia’s suitcase into the trunk, and we got on our way with Lia sitting in the center seat so Odin could hang his tongue out the window.

I gave the cabbie directions to a neighborhood in Avondale. We wouldn’t be staying there—it was just a stopping point to get another cab. He pulled onto the expressway, and I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes.

Lia leaned over to put her head on my shoulder and spoke softly.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “This is just a detour.”

She stayed quiet as we traveled quickly down the center lane. I scratched Odin’s neck and ears as he sniffed at the corner of the window, occasionally sneezing into the wind. My mind was occupied enough for the moment that I almost didn’t realize where we were.

“You missed the exit,” I called up front.

“Did I? Sorry about that. I’ll get the next one.”

I narrowed my eyes a bit at the face in the rearview mirror. I was abruptly uneasy and had to fight down the paranoia growing in my gut. I glanced out the window and half expected to see the kid on the side of the road, but he wasn’t there. I took a deep breath and tried to center myself.

It didn’t work.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked the driver as he sped past the next exit and continued on the expressway.

“I was going to take Parkview,” he said. “There’s less traffic.”

“Bullshit!” Without hesitation, I released the seatbelt, pulled out my gun, and put it next to the driver’s head. “I’m not putting up with elevated fucking prices from a piece of shit cab driver. Take the next fucking exit.”

“Evan! What are you doing!” Lia grabbed my elbow, but I shook her off and told her to sit back and be quiet. She huffed at me but did as I said.

“You should listen to Miss Antonio,” the driver said. “Pointing a gun at the driver isn’t safe for the passengers. I could get nervous and make a mistake.”

Miss Antonio? How did he know her name?

“Please, Evan.”

I ignored Lia’s protest.

“I’m going to pull the fucking trigger if you don’t pull over now.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “If you do that, we’re all meat on the highway.”

Something about his phrase sounded familiar—like I had heard someone else use the same words or something close to them anyway. The whole thing was off—a real cab driver wouldn’t be reacting this way with a gun in his face. This guy had been in a similar position before.

He knew Lia’s name.

“Who the fuck are you?” I asked.

“Who me? I could be anybody.” The dude smirked as he glanced sideways at me. “And if you don’t get that piece out of my face, I’m going to ram this car into the fucking barrier.”

I wasn’t going to give him that chance.

I fired.

The driver slumped forward on the wheel.

The car began to turn wildly to the left.

Lia screamed.

With my hands against the side of the bucket seat, I hauled myself into the front and grabbed the wheel. My legs were still behind me—trapped between the front and back sections of the car—but I at least had my hands on the wheel. I tried to get it straightened out, but we were heading into the fast lane of traffic and skidding at the same time. I didn’t want to overcompensate and flip the car.

With the unlikely cabbie’s body sliding into me and trying to push me right off the steering wheel altogether and Lia screaming in the backseat, I tightened my grip on the wheel and managed to ease it to the right just enough to stop the sliding. We were still heading straight toward another car, though, and I couldn’t get my feet out of the back to bring the rest of my body into the front seat to hit the brake.

“Lia! Shut up and grab my foot!”

“What?” There was so much panic in her voice, and I needed her to calm down before we crashed.

The car in front of us swerved into another lane and we whizzed by.

“My foot is stuck,” I said with as much calm as I could. “Get it unstuck.”

I felt her hands wrap around my boot and give my ankle a painful twist.

“Ow! Shit!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Just get it out!”

A twist in the other direction still hurt, but my foot popped free, and I pulled it over the center console and pushed it between the dead man’s legs to get to the brake. I had to kick his leg out of the way but finally felt the pedal against the bottom of my boot.

As I sat in his lap, I managed to slow us down and get over to the side of the expressway with only a handful of horns honking at us. I didn’t have time for any other bullshit, so I just opened the door, shoved the body out the driver’s side, and sped off again.

Lia was practically hysterical.

“Calm down, baby.”

“I-I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” I corrected softly. “We’re okay now.”

“You killed the cab driver!”

“He wasn’t a fucking cab driver.”

“What?”

“Just...just hang on for a bit, okay? I need to ditch this car.”

I pulled off the expressway, onto a side road, and down a narrow street. It was lined with buildings containing boarded up windows, which was as good a place as any to stop.

“Hold on to Odin,” I instructed. “I’ll get the shit out of the trunk. We’ll have to walk a ways and get another cab.”

“Evan, there’s blood all over you.”

“I know.” I found the trunk release under the steering wheel, ran around to the back of the car, and opened up one of the bags inside. I pulled out a T-shirt to wipe the blood and tissue off of my face, neck, and arm. “Did I get it all?”

Lia looked at me with her lip tucked behind her teeth.

“There’s some on your shirt,” she said.

I tore it off, tossed it into the car, not giving a shit about evidence at this point—it’s not like I was going to spend time wiping the car for prints—and dug out another shirt. As I was pulling it on, Lia bent over at the waist and puked near the back tire as Odin whined and paced about on his leash.

“You okay?” I asked when she was done. I gave her one of her own shirts to wipe her mouth and hands and took Odin’s leash from her.

“No,” she said in a voice I could barely hear. “I’m not sure I will be.”

I looked up and down the street. We needed to get away from the blood-filled car as quickly as possible, and I couldn’t accomplish that with Lia freaking out on me.

“Just relax, baby,” I said, hoping that would help.

It didn’t.

“Relax? How can you fucking say that?”

At least it got her angry instead of scared. I could work with that.

“You know the kind of shit I do,” I reminded her.

“Knowing it and seeing it aren’t the same thing,” she said.

I couldn’t argue with her on that one. Instead, I pulled her close to me and whispered against her ear.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, baby—so sorry. It was the only thing I could do to keep him from killing you.”

“Killing me?”

There was no point in hiding the truth any longer. I pulled her closer to my chest and pressed my lips to her hair.

“My former boss, Rinaldo, knows I’ve hooked up with Greco. He’s taking it out on you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he put a contract out on you. He’s offering fifteen grand to the person who kills you.”

She tensed in my arms, and her body shuddered. I knew she was crying even though I couldn’t see her face. I tightened my hold on her and then pulled back to lead her down the street. She didn’t resist though I couldn’t get her to go at a pace I considered quick enough. Odin was also skittish but followed me obediently.

We walked about a dozen blocks before I called another cab company– one I hadn’t used before—from a payphone. This time, the driver was an Indian guy wearing a flannel shirt that looked like it came right off the George Lucas line but no dark glasses or hat.

He drove us south where we got another cab up north. A few more similar trips and one bribed bus driver to allow Odin to ride later, we were at a small house in a crappy neighborhood.

“Whose house is this?” Lia asked as we went in.

“Mine,” I replied. “I bought it a few years ago because I needed a place to lie low every once in a while.”

“Like now?”

“Exactly.”

“You have a bunch of places like this, don’t you? Just like the cabin in Arizona.”

“Yes.”

“How long will we stay here?”

“Not long,” I told her. “I don’t think this place could be traced back to me, but you never know, and people are looking for you.”

Lia shuddered again. She looked like she was about to collapse, so I brought her into the bedroom and quickly found some clean sheets to put on the mattress. I didn’t even remove her clothes—just hauled her into bed and held her against my chest.

“I don’t know if I can handle all of this,” Lia admitted. Her arms came up around my neck.

I closed my eyes and touched my forehead to hers.

“That’s why I left,” I whispered. “I know leaving that note and no explanation was a shit thing to do, but I didn’t want you to be exposed to all this.”

I pulled her closer to me, wanting to feel like I could protect her with just the proximity of my body and knowing at the same time that it wouldn’t work. I couldn’t protect her mind that way or erase what she’d seen. She was everything I needed, and I was fucking poison to her. I’d known it since the beginning, but I’d been too selfish to push her away.

“You’re perfect for me,” I said, “and I’m just…just bad for you.”

Lia reached up and placed her hand against the side of my face as she shook her head slowly.

“You aren’t,” she said. “This situation is bad, but you’re not.”

“Right,” I scoffed. “I just killed someone right in front of you.”

Lia flinched, and I immediately felt bad for being so blunt.

“You’re warm,” she said as her body pressed against mine, “and you’re so smart. You’re gentle, and strong, and handsome. You’re compassionate and self-sacrificing.”

I shook my head and started to correct her, but she shushed me and stroked over my jaw with her fingers. I’d been far too preoccupied to shave, and I could hear the slight scratching sound as her fingertips rubbed against the stubble on my face as she continued.

“You went overseas to serve in the best way you could. You led people in battle. You were willing to give up your life for someone you didn’t even know. You stayed strong in your heart, no matter what they did to your body, and never gave them any information even though it might have been easier on you if you had.”

I blinked a couple of times. I hadn’t really thought about those years in any way other than the negative, and I wasn’t sure how to react to her words.

“You are perceptive,” she continued. “You always know exactly what I want and need. You’re loyal and brave. You have endured so much—far more than any one person should ever have to face—but you kept going.”

“I didn’t endure it,” I replied. “I cracked. I totally lost it.”

“Everyone has their breaking point, Evan. That’s not bad; that’s just being human.”

All I could do was stare at her. I wanted to deny it all—I wasn’t like that—but it was as if she had wormed her way into my head and dug out all the things I once was and held them to herself as truth. I wanted to remind her of what I had become since then—a cold-blooded, merciless killer—but I didn’t.

I kissed her instead. Again and again I kissed her because I didn’t have any words for what I was feeling.

Back in the hotel room Gavino provided for me, I placed the bag on the table and quickly ditched my clothes to get a shower. I didn’t bother to shave though I needed to. I was too anxious to get to my weapon. Once I was done with the shower, I pulled on my jeans, poured myself a scotch on the rocks, and quickly turned my attention back to the Barrett M82.

Reaching over to the switch, I turned the light on near me so I could see clearly. The light was low, but it was enough for what I needed. I silently pulled back the zipper of the gym bag and pulled out the pieces of the sniper rifle slowly and carefully—nearly with reverence. It was how I felt about the weapon—it had been one of the few constant things in my adult life. Every time I touched another piece of it, I felt like I was becoming more centered.

With my heart beating a little faster in my chest, I examined each of the pieces, starting with the upper receiver as I removed them from the bag. I checked for any marks that weren’t there before, checked that the springs were still tight, the impact bumpers weren’t twisted, and the barrel was clean. There were a few minor scratches on the scope that weren’t there before, but overall, it looked like everything was all right.

I continued my inspection over the bolt carrier group, the lower receiver, and the bipod assembly. Once I had completed the appraisal, I pulled out a cloth and a small bottle of oil and started to clean it.

I went over each and every part—removing powder residue and deposits from the barrel and then lubricating each piece with oil. I caressed the smooth metal, and the touch of it in my hands wasn’t unlike touching Lia in the way my mind calmed and focused on the task. When it was cleaned and oiled to my satisfaction, I began to assemble it.

There was no way I could have adequately expressed how I felt to have my Barrett in my possession again. I knew it made my fingers tingle to touch it again, and my mind flashed through the many, many times I had fired the weapon. I remembered handing over seven thousand dollars—all the money I had at the time—just to be able to take it with me when I left the Marines and never regretting leaving myself practically penniless in the process. I could have bought one on the street for less—government spending and all—but I wanted that one.

Though I never really referred to it as a she or anything like that, if my Barrett were a woman, I would definitely fuck her.

I had to fire it. Just had to. The shooting range wasn’t going to be enough, either. I needed a real, live, soon-to-be-dead target.

Gavino had given me two assignments over the last few days, and it was time to take care of one of them. I had already completed most of the recon on a particular coke dealer named Henry Martin. He kept coming up short on his payments to Gavino, and his excuses were becoming less and less believable. Gavino wanted to make him an example, and I knew exactly where to find him.

Henry Martin was into hookers far more than I had ever been. He would go through a half dozen of them in a week, and I knew where he’d been picking them out lately. I also knew of a nice, tall building right down the street with a perfectly unobstructed view of the corner where he would likely pick up a whore.

I didn’t even have to wait long.

From the top floor of a high-rise apartment building, I located myself inside an abandoned unit at the far edge and watched Henry’s eighties-style Cadillac pull up to the corner. The position gave me a clear view of the area I was targeting on the other side of the river, and no one would be able to locate which unit I was in even if the shot was heard.

Without even using the bipod, I held the weapon up against my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment and reveled in the feeling of the Barrett’s stock against my shoulder and my hand on the grip. I opened my eyes again to look down the scope, make a couple of minor adjustments, and wait for Henry to position his car at just the right angle.

He seemed happy to comply.

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out through my mouth. As soon as all the air was out of my lungs, I pulled back on the trigger.

The kickback was welcomed. The scent of the blast entered my nose, and there was no way a hot meal on Christmas Eve ever smelled any better. I didn’t even care so much that the shot was perfect, clean, and precise—it was just having my rifle with me again that mattered.

As I slid the window closed, I couldn’t hear the screams of the hooker who had been leaning up against the car. I stood slowly, caressed the barrel, and quickly disassembled the rifle to put it back in the bag and make my exit. I went back to the hotel room and cleaned the whole weapon again just because I could.

Nothing could have completed me more than having my Barrett back.