Goodbye, Kate, page 20
“But those…men,” I continue, using the term loosely. “Are nothing. They have nothing. Without Lorusso, they’ll have no income, no way of doing business. Once word gets out of Lorusso’s death, the vultures will come. Those men will be dead within days. That’s if they’re not in prison already. You mustn’t forget, the bloodshed that night won’t have gone unnoticed. That building will be a crime scene now. We can’t risk returning.”
Her urge to cry has subsided, regardless of the fact the rims of her eyes have reddened. Her jaw has stopped ticking, which means she’s calming down. I know this because I know her, although I’m sure she’d love to argue that point. It seems she’s not ready to discuss the matter further as she twists to face the passenger window. Probably best.
Reaching into the back of the car, I pull the holdall that I took from Roberto’s between the front seats before exiting the vehicle. “Wait there.” It’s an order I expect she won’t follow. Closing the door, I walk on in the direction of my car.
It’s parked around the corner, behind the building guarded by the chain fence. It’s unoccupied. I surveyed the entire area the night I set out to retrieve Kate. Sophia. On approach the vehicle appears undisturbed, which eases some of the tension in my shoulders. Plucking the keys from my pocket, I gather my belongings from the boot first before moving onto the hidden drawer beneath the passenger seat.
That’s when I hear the progression of faint footsteps. Light and close together, the gait of a woman. Confident that it’s simply Sophia ignoring my instruction, as expected, I don’t bother to raise my head to check.
“Jesus.” Her stunned voice confirms my presumption.
Finished with the drawer, I turn to see Sophia staring into the car, jaw slightly open and eyebrows curved.
“It’s not all mine,” I tell her, referring to the bloodstained interior which I assume is the source of her shock.
“Whose is it?”
Finally, I remove the spare Glock from the glovebox, along with the cash, and put them in the bag with my laptop which I took from the boot. “Didn’t catch their names.”
“Their?” Rather pointlessly, she’s fishing for information.
“Take these.” I hand her the bags containing my possessions. If she insists on following me she might as well be useful. “Stand back.”
Of course, she doesn’t, not until she sees me remove the petrol canister from the bag I brought with me and the scene that’s about to follow registers in her stubborn brain. She doesn’t question my moves as I begin dousing the upholstery. As much as I’d like to think of her as the same innocent girl from just weeks ago, the one with the messy bun and carefree smile who went to sleep dreaming of the ocean, I need to accept that she isn’t. She’s tainted now. She knows this act is necessary and why.
Tossing the empty canister onto the back seat, I take a couple of steps back and spark a flame on my lighter, taking a moment to inhale the deliciously sweet fumes before I burn them all to hell. Then, extending my arm I throw gently yet precisely, watching the ravenous flame catch and devour its prey in awe. An angry sea of blue fire cascades over the seats before billowing into stunning orange tendrils. The blaze spreads, engulfing the car. Plastic pops, paint blisters, and material crackles as the furious flames spit their leftovers into the open air.
It’s mesmerising.
Fire is chaos. It’s wild and unreasonable. One can only admire its determination to sustain itself. Its insatiable flames, tall and blinding, succumb to nothing and nobody, caring not about the trail of destruction beneath them, only their will to survive, to burn brighter, further, hotter.
I worry Sophia has too much fire inside her, which I accept is my fault. That’s why I must dampen the flames before I let her go.
“Lincoln!” Her voice, urgent and high, snatches my attention from the glorious show in front of me. “What the hell are you doing? Come on!”
Sighing, I take a last look at my creation and then stroll the distance over to her. As I near, she starts waving her hands around, urging me forwards as if someone has just thrown a grenade at my feet.
“What the fuck was that?” She shoves me hard in the chest, putting all her weight behind it.
I barely move. “I’m destroying evidence.” I shrug. I assumed she knew that already.
“Not that. The waiting around for it to blow up in your face! I…I yelled and you didn’t answer. I thought you were trying to…”
“Trying to what?” Genuine confusion clouds my mind. I can usually read her so well.
“Kill yourself,” she mutters so quietly I’m not entirely sure I’ve heard her correctly.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Drawing her top lip between her teeth, her gaze flits to the sky. She’s embarrassed, which confirms I did hear her properly. Clearly, she realises how absurd she sounds.
“Sophia, this isn’t Mission: Impossible. Cars don’t actually blow up into gigantic fire bombs that take out whole streets. The tyres may burst, so I was about to clear out anyway, but there was never any danger of me running in slow motion against the backdrop of a colossal orange cloud before being propelled fifty feet to my death.”
Pursing her lips, she throws me a sideways glance.
“Car manufacturers design their vehicles with safety in mind. It would take a while for the heat to cause enough damage to the fuel tank to enable petrol to start leaking, and once that happens, we’re likely looking at a rather large flare up, but not an impressive explosion.”
“Likely?”
Of course that’s the word she chooses to take away. “There’s an exception to every rule.” Sophia isn’t the first person I’ve trained, so to speak, but she’s by far the most frustrating and insubordinate…and we haven’t even started yet. “Let’s go.”
Obtaining a status update from Toff is at the top of my priority list before I commit to our planned travel route. Nestling my phone into the cupholder after dialling, I talk with him on speaker as I drive, informing him of Sophia’s presence at the start. I’m not sure why I do that. Despite the reservations I know she has, I haven’t been dishonest with her since the moment she woke up in Amiens. I have nothing left to hide. There is nothing Toff could tell me that I wouldn’t relay to Sophia, should she enquire.
I begin by running Toff through the events of the last few days, sharing everything that has transpired since he secured my invitation to the auction the last time we spoke. Bar the fact Sophia and I are alive, he is already aware of most of it - the attack on the compound and the devastation left in our wake. News travels fast.
After swapping intel with Toff, returning to France by air remains a suitable option. First, however, Sophia needs new clothes, so while still connected to Toff I start driving towards a shopping centre which I located on Roberto’s laptop earlier.
“Before I go,” I begin to ask something I’ve been determined not to, but it comes out of my mouth anyway. “How are things over there?” My tone is solemn even to my own ears.
Toff sighs. He knows what I mean. Somehow, he always does. I don’t mean business. I’m not talking about intel, or money, or the latest betrayal.
“The funeral’s next Thursday. Coroner wouldn’t release the body until the end of this week. Fucking prick.”
“Leverage,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “Bastards.” The police know who are responsible. They also know they don’t have a chance in hell of gathering enough evidence to pin those responsible. So that leaves the twisted fucks with the option of withholding the charred corpse of an innocent kid, dangling it in the air like some kind of fucked-up reward for being a snitch. I’ll give you yours if you give us ours.
“I’ll get him, Toff. I swear to God, I’ll make him suffer.”
Only when Sophia’s breath stutters beside me do I remember the company I’m in, and that I’m discussing the pain I intend to inflict on her own father.
Shit.
This is why I didn’t want to mention it, talk about, even think of Marcus. If I was capable of love, I’m almost sure that’s the emotion I would’ve felt for him. He was a baby when we met, couldn’t even sit straight without wobbling. I watched him grow, learn, question, believe. Mostly from a distance while I was busy punishing the wretched world I was forced to live in, but he was enough to offer the occasional reminder that not everyone is inherently bad.
Naturally, curiosity took hold as his hormones kicked in. He started poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Cowan would often send me to give him a dressing down, frighten him. I didn’t, though. For reasons I’ll never know or forgive myself for I always ended up talking things out with him instead. I tried to fake an interest in his schoolwork. He had this strange passion for astronomy, something I know nothing about, but if he could have just held onto that for a few more years he could have escaped. Travelled miles away to study, become something brilliant…or ordinary.
Anywhere but his father’s world. That only ever leads to one place. He just found that out sooner than most. Maybe if I had scared him, roughed him up a little, he’d still be on course to that brilliant life.
I’m as much to blame as Fletcher.
“You’ll have to find him first.” Toff makes it sound like a challenge, not a lost cause. “He’s gone dark. The old fella’s getting restless. Angrier. To be honest, Linc, I think he’s losing interest in the girl. He just wants a death. A Fletcher death. And he wants it now.”
“Excuse me, what?” I did not just hear that. “What did you just fucking say to me? Has there been any fucking point to this at all?”
“Calm down, Linc.”
“Calm down?” Unconsciously, my foot thrusts into the accelerator. I couldn’t relax it even if I wanted to. Every muscle in my body has tightened in fury. “He could’ve put a bullet in Fletcher’s head twenty years ago. Fuck, Toff, I’d have done it for him two years ago. What’s this been for, huh? Kate, playing happy families, this futile fucking holiday around Europe where the only souvenirs on offer are goddamn holes in your arms. Tell me, why, if he’s just going to off Fletcher anyway?”
“We’ll figure it out, Linc. I think—”
Grabbing the phone, I flip it closed with a loud snap and toss it into the back of the car, cutting him off.
Horns blare and lights flash as I swerve past cars that are wasting my fucking time. Sophia mutters something from the passenger seat but it’s barely audible over the roar of the engine. That’s for the best. I’m not interest in what she, or anyone else, has to say right now.
“Slow down.”
No. I won’t slow down. I won’t do a damn thing anyone orders, or even fucking suggests, ever again. What’s the point? People only act on behalf of their own agenda. The laughable part is I knew that already. I’ve always told myself that, ultimately, I serve my own interests first but that’s a lie. I have no idea whose interests I’ve been serving for that last two years, or whose I’m serving now. Certainly not mine. What did I achieve from chatting up some young, bashful chick and getting her to fall in love with me? What do I get by busting my arse, risking my life and dropping bodies across three different countries to prevent someone snapping her pretty blonde neck?
“Lincoln please… Y-you’re scaring me.”
Her. I get her.
Her voice pierces the rage flooding my veins, creating an invisible valve. Instantly, my muscles start to loosen, my body sagging as the pent-up pressure disperses into the air. The car begins to slow, as does my breathing. My thoughts, however, they continue to race. I can’t concentrate. I’m unfocused. This won’t do. I cannot keep us safe in such an irrational state.
There’s a layby up ahead. I decide I will rest there as I’m already pulling into it. I can’t take long. We’re too exposed here, but the car is too confined for me to unscramble the cluster of thoughts, plans, and decisions fighting for dominance inside my mind. “I need some air,” is the only explanation I’m able to offer Sophia as I clamber out of the car and slam the door closed behind me.
I expect her to remain in the car this time, certain she will appreciate the distance from the man who’s just frightened her. Yet, I’ve barely made it onto the grassy mound above the layby when I hear the click of her door handle. I should know better by now than to assume Sophia’s moves. The only thing I have complete faith in is that if I give her a direct order, she’ll ignore it. Perhaps I should instruct her to go and get herself killed. She’ll live to one-hundred to spite me.
I’d laugh at that thought if I wasn’t dead inside.
She catches up quickly. I feel her before she even speaks. She doesn’t even have to touch me. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t turn to look at her as I talk, though my apology is genuine. I have done many terrible things in my life but hurting her is my only regret.
“Me too.”
With that, my body practically catapults itself into the opposite direction until I’m facing her. “You’re sorry? Sophia…” The ability to speak fizzles away from me, all logical words dissolving on my tongue.
“For what he did. My dad. To that boy.” Her words are short and clumsy, fuelled by guilt that doesn’t belong to her. “He meant a lot to you.”
I swallow hard, and then I do it again. The words must be stuck in my throat because I can’t force anything audible from my mouth. With no other choice, I simply nod.
“I…I know this, me, hasn’t accomplished anything. And I don’t know if I’ll ever truly understand why you were…sent to me. If this was a film, I’d just tell the goodest baddie to kill the baddest baddie and be done with it. The whole, watching me and ‘using’ me thing doesn’t make sense—”
“It’s war, Sophia. Business. Money. Always money. As much as they hate it they can’t exist without each other. They’re like the sun and moon. Two great forces, both required to keep the underworld alive. Balanced. But it only works as long as they stay where they’re supposed to be. When their orbits collide everything plunges into darkness. As scary as it might be for you to believe, the industry’s too big for just one of them to run. They’re smart, they know this, but their greed can’t stop them needing that bit more than the other. So, they form an alliance, and alliances always require a backup plan. Collateral. You were Cowan’s, and I have to believe that Marcus was Fletcher’s.”
I still don’t know if Marcus was Fletcher’s true target and I have no way of finding out without my hand around his throat. I’m certain my real identity is the reason behind his death, regardless. Cowan played with Fletcher’s daughter’s life, so Fletcher took Cowan’s son’s. Makes sense. Our world is fucked.
“And we didn’t even do anything.” Sophia mumbles that part more to herself as she stares down at her feet.
“That doesn’t matter to bad people.”
“I guess not.” Tilting her head, she gazes up at me. She looks so lost, so beautiful. “You’re not bad people.”
“Sophia.” I shake my head, blowing a frustrated sigh. I can’t summon a response to that. How many bodies does she need me to rack up for her to see that I’m not her damn hero?
“You’d have killed me if you were. But you didn’t because I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Or at least, I hadn’t then.”
“You haven’t now.” I spit the words like an angry growl, taking a step forward.
She starts blinking rapidly, as if to remember something. “I…we’ve got off track. What I was trying to say was, what you said in the car…” Pausing, she looks up to the cloudless sky and draws in a deep breath. “I’m sorry you had to waste all that time with me, which I assume was to protect your family from mine.”
“They’re not my—”
“Please. Let me finish.” She waits for my silence before continuing. “And now that boy is dead anyway, and whatever plan you had to get justice for him has failed. That’s because of me, too. I just… Look, I know it’s not my fault, not really. I suppose I just want you to know, whether you do already or not, I need to say it. If I’d have known what kind of man my father was, suspected for even a second…You know what, never mind.”
“It’s okay, Sophia. You own no part of this.”
She shakes her head. It won’t stop. I cradle her jaw with my hand to still it, and feel it clenching under my fingers. She wants to cry. “I’ve practised this speech a thousand times in my head, all those nights alone in that hellhole. I want to say I’d have shopped him to the police. I’d have taken him down. But…I can’t. I can’t say that because I don’t think I would have. I…I think I’d have let him talk his way out of it. At best, I think I’d have run away and ignored it. I’d have ignored it and that boy, and God knows how many others, would still have died. Even now, I know what he’s done, I know what you need to do…and I can’t bear it. He has to pay, like Lorusso and his men, but—but…I don’t think I can be there for that.”
Christ. Letting go of her face, I sigh. “I don’t expect that. I’ve never expected that. Listen to me. You are not responsible. You did not choose the blood you were born with. As for the time we spent together, that wasn’t a waste. You were my light, Sophia. My life is steeped in so much darkness and pain. Coming home to you was a daily reprieve that I would never be worthy of, but sometimes, just sometimes, I would pretend I could earn that absolution for real one day.”
Her gaze hasn’t left my lips, which have abruptly become dry. “I loved you, you know.”
