Copper and Salt, page 15
“The knife knew where to go,“ he whispered, and collapsed.
15
Oren flung himself over Andrei, slipping in the blood, and pulled Alex and Mihai across the room, away from the body. Alex was limp and unresisting in his arms, head lolling, and Oren laid him flat on the floor, listening for his heartbeat and nearly crying with relief when he heard it.
“Alex,” Mihai pleaded, patting Alex’s cheek. “Wake up, Alex, we have to go, wake up—”
Oren closed his eyes, resting his forehead on Alex's chest. Mihai was right, they had to go, had to escape before Nikolai came back. For that matter, why hadn't the gunshot brought him running? Oren took a deep breath and stood up. Mihai watched him, eyes unsure, as the room tilted and swayed again and Oren gritted his teeth. Not the time. He tiptoed to the door and eased it open a crack. There were shouts from downstairs, the sound of running feet echoing up the stairwell. Oren glanced over his shoulder at the monitors and his mouth fell open in shock.
Uniformed police officers were pouring into each room—in some, men in various stages of undress were spread-eagled on the floor, and in others, the officers were talking to the prostitutes who'd been alone in their rooms.
“Alex,” Oren said, stumbling across the room and going to his knees with a thump. “Alex, honey, wake up, the cavalry is here.”
“Who are you?” Mihai demanded.
Alex's eyes fluttered and Oren patted his cheek.
“Come on, baby, wake up for me. We need to go downstairs.“
Alex opened his eyes and Oren smiled at him, a lump in his throat.
“Hey there, hero. Can you sit up?“
Alex looked at Mihai, then swallowed and nodded, accepting Oren's hand and allowing him to pull him to a sitting position and then to his feet.
They went down the stairs carefully, Alex's arms around Oren's and Mihai’s shoulders. On the second floor landing, they were enveloped in a swirl of chaos, loud voices and heavy boots, commands for them to show their hands, and Oren obeyed, giving them both a nod to comply as well.
“My name is Orlando Acevedo,“ Oren said clearly. “I'm turning myself in. This is my husband, Alex Acevedo, and his brother, Mihai Costea.”
“Your what?” Mihai demanded.
A SWAT officer approached, rifle pointed at Oren's chest. “On the ground,” the man said. “Facedown, all of you. No sudden movements.”
“Alex has a broken ankle,” Oren said as they went to their knees. “Please be careful with him. Oh, also, there's a dead body upstairs.“
16
Alex and Oren were separated almost immediately, and the last Oren saw of him, Alex was looking over his shoulder at him, his eyes wide and terrified as a young female officer led him away with Mihai, speaking soothingly to them.
Oren was escorted out of the house to a waiting ambulance and seated in the back where a paramedic could treat his injuries while a detective spoke to him.
He was finding it hard to focus, his vision and hearing fuzzing in and out. He thought the detective had said her name was Nguyen, but he couldn't be sure.
“I want to see my husband,” he said when the detective had stopped talking.
Detective Nguyen glanced over her shoulder, presumably to where Alex was being tended. “The paramedics are taking care of him,” she said. She had kind eyes, Oren thought absently. “We'll let you see him as soon as possible, but right now I need to know your version of events.”
“How did you guys even know where we were?” Oren asked. “We didn't call you—we were going to, but they grabbed us before we could.”
Detective Nguyen smiled. She was wearing an astonishingly ugly plaid jacket, with shoulder pads and boxy pockets, and it dwarfed her small frame. “We got an anonymous tip that someone was being attacked. When we pulled up, the garage was open and there was blood on the floor, which gave us the probable cause we've been looking for to enter the premises and shut this place down.”
“You knew about Andrei,” Oren said numbly.
Detective Nguyen lifted a shoulder, her mouth twisting. “We had no solid leads. Andrei is—was—smart. And ruthless, as I think you know by now. He buried any evidence that might have damned him, and every witness we lined up against him either went missing or mysteriously forgot what had happened when it came time to testify.” She leaned forward, eyes serious. “Between you and me, Mr. Acevedo, you're a hero. You did what the law would not allow us to do.”
“I just wanted to keep Alex safe,” Oren whispered, clutching the blanket around his shoulders a little closer. “And... Mihai.” He closed his eyes as tears prickled.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“It's... a long story,” Oren said. His head was throbbing and it was entirely possible he was floating.
“Start with the events of today,” Detective Nguyen suggested. “I'll get the rest of it later, once you're feeling a little better.”
“We got married,” Oren said. “This morning.” It felt like a lifetime ago, an entirely separate reality. “We were at the hotel. In... bed.” He shot a look at Nguyen, but she just nodded for him to continue. “Someone knocked, I thought it was room service. It wasn't.”
He took the detective through everything that had happened until Andrei pulled his gun out, and then hesitated.
“I need to know everything,” Nguyen said, her voice suddenly steely. “Don't try to protect anyone. Tell me exactly what went down.”
Oren closed his eyes. “Andrei tried to shoot me. He... missed. I think I had my arms over my head—it all happened so fast. When I looked, Andrei was dead and Alex….” He swallowed. “Alex was holding my knife.” He reached for Detective Nguyen's sleeve. “He did it to protect me,” he said urgently. “He saved my life, Detective, we'd both be dead right now if he hadn't—”
Detective Nguyen gently disentangled herself, patting Oren's hand. “I think that's all I need right now. Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Acevedo.”
“Lie down,” the paramedic said. “You've got a hell of a concussion and you need to rest.”
Oren obeyed, sinking back against the gurney and letting the chaos spin on around him.
Oren woke up in a hospital bed, feeling much clearer-headed, a cast on his left wrist, dismayed but not surprised to see that he was handcuffed to the bed. He pressed the call button and a nurse and a uniformed officer entered.
“I want to see my husband,” Oren told the nurse, whose nametag said SELENE.
Selene glanced at the officer, big and stone-faced beside her. He hesitated and then turned away to speak into his radio. When he turned back, he shook his head.
“He's sedated.”
“I need to talk to him,” Oren insisted. “Please, I need to know he's okay.”
“He's sedated,” the officer said. “Out cold.“ Selene made an irritated noise and the officer shot her a guilty look, hesitating. “I'll ask if you can see him as soon as he comes around.”
Several hours passed and Oren tried in vain to think about anything but Alex with the knife in his hand, his face empty as he stood over Andrei's body.
Finally, Selene came back in the room and Oren looked up.
“Can I see him?”
“He's awake,” Selene said. “He's... not talking. Detective Nguyen asked me to bring you down there, see if you can help.”
Oren threw the covers off, swinging his legs out of the bed. He was brought up short by the handcuffs and he looked at Selene.
“Stay there,” Selene said. “I'll take the bed down to Alex's room.”
Oren settled back against the mattress as Selene got the bed ready to move and then wheeled him out into the hall and past several doors.
Alex was sitting up in bed, Mihai in the bed beside him. Alex was holding Mihai’s hand, their beds pushed together, but his head was down, eyes fixed on the door. Detective Nguyen was next to him, asking a question in a gentle voice, when Selene pushed the door open and Alex sat up straight.
Oren managed a smile, even though he wanted to cry at the bruised shadows under Alex's eyes, the way he twitched at the slightest noise and held Oren's gaze like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning. “Hey, catâr,” Oren said around the lump in his throat, and Alex's mouth twisted but he said nothing, watching Oren with an almost unnerving intensity.
Selene pushed the beds together and Oren reached for Alex, swearing under his breath when the cuff pulled him up short again. He looked at Detective Nguyen, who'd been observing them silently, and held up his wrist.
“Please,” he said. “Post a guard outside the room or in the room, I don't care, but please. I need—” He swallowed hard. “He needs me to hold him.”
Detective Nguyen looked at Alex, at the way he was leaning toward Oren like filings drawn to a magnet, and finally sighed, pulling her keys from her pocket. She unlocked Alex's cuff first—where was he even going to go on a broken ankle? Oren wondered—as Alex shrank from her touch, his eyes still fixed on Oren. Then she leaned over and took Oren's manacle off and stepped back.
Oren reached out as Alex nearly fell across the beds toward him. He burrowed into Oren's chest, clinging with a desperate strength as Oren rubbed his back, resting his cheek against Alex's silky hair.
“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay, see? I’m here. Everything’s okay. Look, Mihai’s here too. It’s all okay now, just like I told you it would be.”
Detective Nguyen turned away, looking out the window to give them a moment of privacy. The coat was just as ugly under fluorescent lighting, Oren noted. Mihai didn’t turn away, watching Oren holding Alex with an unnerving intensity on his thin face, but he said nothing.
After a few minutes, Oren eased away. There were tears on Alex's face, but he still hadn't made a sound. Oren wiped one away with his thumb and Alex leaned into his touch.
“Feel like talking?” Oren murmured.
Alex's face shuttered and he pressed closer.
“I know, sweetheart,” Oren said, keeping his voice light. “But I have a feeling that Detective Nguyen, she of the pretty brown eyes and the really hideous jacket over there, isn't going to go anywhere until you talk to her.”
Nguyen sputtered but Alex’s taut frame eased and he let out a quiet sigh.
Oren winked at Nguyen over the top of Alex’s head. “He thinks I’m strange because I make weird jokes.”
Nguyen’s mouth curved and she settled back on her heels.
“Alex?” Oren said gently. He held up a finger, hoping Nguyen would follow his lead. Wait.
Nguyen hesitated but she kept her mouth shut.
Alex was still for a long moment and then he tilted his face up, asking wordlessly, a plea in his eyes. Oren cradled his jaw, fingers brushing the curls at Alex's nape, and slotted their mouths together.
I’m here, he told Alex silently as they kissed. I'm with you. You're safe.
Alex's lips were salty but his mouth was sweet, yielding and soft beneath Oren's. When they broke apart, Alex sat up in the bed and turned to face Detective Nguyen.
“My name is Alexandru Costea,” he said. Oren scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Alex's waist and bracing him with his presence as Alex continued. “My brother—” He broke off to look at Mihai, and Oren pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “My brother Mihai and I were whores... for Andrei Sokolova.” Alex took a deep breath. “I killed him. Andrei.”
“There's a whole lot more to the story than that,” Oren said before Detective Nguyen could speak. “Maybe start with the night you escaped? His English isn't great,” he continued, addressing Nguyen, “so please be patient.”
Nguyen just nodded as she pulled up a chair and opened a notebook to start taking notes.
Alex began to speak, his voice low and halting. Oren kept silent, only speaking up to offer a word when Alex floundered.
It took awhile, especially in Alex's faltering English, but he took them through the harrowing details of his escape, and Oren felt tears sliding down his own face as Alex recounted how Mihai had pushed him out the window and told him to run even as Andrei had loomed over him.
“I saw—” Alex gulped for air. “Andrei behind him—he grabbed him—”
“I fought,” Mihai said to Detective Nguyen, speaking for the first time. “I never—I never fought before. Alex, he always fought for me.” He turned to Alex. “But I fought him, Sandu, I fought him so hard, I slowed him down so you could get away—” His voice was thick with tears and Alex said something in Romanian to him. Mihai choked on a laughing sob and covered his mouth with his free hand.
“Take your time, Alex,“ Detective Nguyen said. Her eyes were sympathetic, her posture relaxed and unthreatening, and Alex nodded, gulping air.
“I... ran,” he whispered. “I did not know... where. I just... ran. I saw….” He leaned into Oren's chest. “I saw Oren's house. I thought—maybe I can steal food. I was so hungry. But I was cold and so tired, I pass out, and—I wake up and Oren was there, he—help me. He saved me.”
“I helped a little,” Oren corrected. “You did most of this yourself, sweetheart.”
Alex heaved a shuddering sigh, relaxing a little. He began to speak again, telling the detective of the time they'd spent snowed in together—the week we fell in love, Oren thought—and their flight from Andrei's men.
“They burned your house down, Mr. Acevedo?” Nguyen said.
Oren nodded. “They’d just been shooting at us and we were running at the time, I didn't stop to watch them light the match, but... yeah.”
Detective Nguyen listened keenly as Alex resumed his tale, the hospital in Laramie and then coming back to Cheyenne, getting married, preparing to go to the police with their story.
“And then Andrei found you?” Nguyen asked.
Alex nodded. “Oren is... artist. He carves beautiful things. He give me... his knife. Andrei tried to shoot Oren, and I—” He took a deep breath. “I stop him.“ He met Nguyen's eyes. “I kill him. I would do it again.”
Detective Nguyen's lips twitched. “Maybe keep that last fact to yourself,” she said dryly.
“What happens now?” Oren asked.
“Alex needs to rest,” Nguyen said, standing up. “Mr. Acevedo, I need to speak to you alone.”
“I'll be right back,” Oren told Alex.
Alex squared his shoulders and nodded.
Oren followed Nguyen out into the hallway, where she turned to face him.
“You're going to be extradited to Texas,” she told him bluntly.
Oren rubbed the back of his neck. “I assumed as much,” he admitted. “What about Alex?”
Detective Nguyen opened her mouth and was cut off by a voice down the hall.
“Detective Nguyen! Bob Clark, Cheyenne Daily News, can I get a quote from you?”
Oren and Nguyen spun to see a balding, portly man in his forties panting toward them, a cameraman with a huge camera and boom mike right behind him.
“Fuck,” Nguyen muttered. “The chief of police will be addressing the media later this afternoon, after I’ve briefed him, Bob. No statements now.”
Bob swiveled to look at Oren. “Are you Oren Asher?” he asked.
Oren froze. “I—uh… how do you know my name?”
“You are! Mr. Asher, can you give me a brief comment about how you and Alex Costea fell in love? How did you meet? What went down in that house? You’re a hero, did you know that?”
“That’s it, we’re done,” Nguyen snapped, and hustled Oren back into the room.
“How the fuck did he know all that?” Oren demanded as Nguyen pointed at the bed. He climbed back into it and she cuffed him to the railing again, not looking at him.
Alex was sitting up, worry all over his expressive face. “Oren?”
Oren smiled at him. “It’s okay, honey. Detective?”
Nguyen blew out an explosive breath, ruffling her heavy bangs. “Fuck it, you’re going to hear sooner or later. Someone called every major news station in town, as well as most of the minor ones—I’m betting it’s the same anonymous tipper who called us in the first place—and spun them a fairytale about the two of you meeting and falling in love and you, Oren, riding in on your white horse to save the day and stop the villain. The press is eating it up. You’re on every news broadcast in the city. Damn thing’s going viral.”
“That’s not how it happened, though,” Oren protested, taking Alex’s hand. “I mean… yeah, we fell in love and everything, but there was no white horse, I’m not even the one who stopped Andrei—that was all Alex.”
“They don’t care,” Nguyen said, shrugging. “It’s romantic.” Mihai made a noise of disgust as Nguyen leveled a look at Oren. “You need to go back to your room.”
“No,“ Alex said, his grip tightening on Oren’s hand to the point of pain. “Please, please no, Oren, I cannot—” His breathing shortened as his face whitened and Oren swore, leaning over the bed to try and catch Alex’s eyes.
“Baby, breathe for me. Look at my face, it’s okay, I’m right here. Look, Mihai’s here too. See? We’re both here, you’re okay. In and out, there you go, slow and deep.” He smiled as Alex held desperately to his hand, watching his face. “You’re doing so well, catâr.”
“What does that mean?” Nguyen asked, and Alex flinched at the sound of her voice.
“It means donkey,” Oren said, “because he’s a stubborn ass. Detective, please—don’t separate us. He just went through a horribly traumatic event, and he had separation issues even before what happened today. Please, if you’re human under that plaid monstrosity, give him a break.”
“What the fuck is wrong with this jacket?” Nguyen complained.
“We’ve all three given our statements,” Oren pointed out. “It’s not like we’re going to collaborate on some fabricated retelling of events or something.”
Nguyen pursed her lips, studying them. Finally she sighed. “God, I’m getting as soppy as Mel. Who, by the way, is going to laugh her ass off when she hears about this.” She pointed at Oren. “Keep him quiet so the nurses don’t have to sedate him. We will need to speak to him again.”
