Shot to the Hart - A Novella

Chapter 5: Falling

He swayed on his feet and she could see him going down. She rushed to his side and propped him up. Bearing his weight nearly knocked her over.

"Kill me with your bare hands? Brave words coming from someone who can't stand up," I muttered, shuffling him back to the bed. I could feel him pushing against me with all his might but the strength was flowing out of him like water.

"You don't know who you're fucking with," he managed in a low growl just before he passed out. Damn he was heavy. She half dragged, half wrestled him back into bed and readjusted his IV tube; the needle had slipped out of his arm. The antibiotics would be kicking in but so would the sedative and he needed the rest to heal. She was flushed and out of breath when she finally got him settled.

He groaned in his sleep and one muscular arm lashed out before she tucked it under the covers. "Stop fighting dummy," she whispered and before she could stop herself, she brushed his tousled hair from his sweaty brow. When he was safely resting, she left the bedroom and cleaned up the broken cup from where the tea went flying. He was still a fighter, that much hadn't changed.

She made a fresh pot, mind spinning. They couldn't stay here forever. Whoever was after them would find them no doubt, his assassins who were still on the loose and her bosses. She wondered idly which group of psychos would find them first.

Nadia wasn't naive enough to think that five years in the business earned her loyalty or friendship from her employer. If you did the work, you got paid. If you failed, there were consequences. She knew that and expected nothing less, that's why she never botched a job. Not until now. Friendship and loyalty didn't mean that much to them, or to her in the past. But it meant everything now.

Sighing, she opened her laptop and logged into her offshore accounts. The payment for the latest job wasn't there of course but her nest egg was — enough money to get her through several lifetimes. All she wanted to do was get to her haven and erase her memories one margarita at a time until one day she just didn't wake up. That was the plan, and no one was going to get in her way. Or so she thought.

After years of robot-like coldness, why did she suddenly have to care?

Because it was Sal.

There was no way she could hurt him. She lived in a violent world full of violent men — murderers, hustlers, rapists. The worst of the worst. And she singlehandedly rid the planet of a lot of them, one scumbag at a time. He wasn't one of them.

He was kind, and that rare loyal friend that you could count on whenever you needed him. Even after all these years, he meant something to her. Sal was family and always would be.

The men she visited deserved what they got. Sal didn't and she felt a pang of relief that she wasn't the one that hurt him. But who did?

Nadia snapped the laptop shut and attached a small wad of a gum-like substance to the bottom of it. Taking her tea, she opened the glass sliding doors and walked a short distance to the beach tossing the laptop into the fire pit. With a small hiss and a pop it disintegrated, leaving nothing behind but ashes the size of pepper flakes and a thick gray plume. Isn't technology wonderful she marvelled as the last five years of her life literally went up in smoke.

The lake was calm and she felt her mind settle as she sipped the chamomile. Closing her eyes, she tried to strategize what was next, but she was so very tired. The rush of adrenaline from the day had long faded and she longed for a nap. A good old-fashioned snooze, where you drew the curtains, folded yourself into a warm comfy bed and shut yourself down for a few hours like an old computer. What was that like, she mused. She hadn't known a peaceful hour since she took the job years ago.

Murderer, the sinister voice inside her head whispered. You're nothing but one of those depraved wretches destined for hell. Filthy murderer!

She pressed the heel of her hand to her temple to ward off the voice she nicknamed Gollum after the hideous, obsessed creature in Tolkein's Lord of the Rings series. The snarling, guttural whisper always managed to find her at her must vulnerable moments and say the most awful things. She supposed it was her conscience, guilt or whatever for her chosen job — whatever it was, she wished it would fuck off.

Shut up, she commanded in her mind, squeezing her eyes shut. In addition to being on the run from multiple murders and suffering from job burnout, she was also apparently losing her marbles.

Suddenly, her next steps were clear. As soon as Sal was up on his feet she would ditch him and get out of the country. She'd done the right thing for once in her life, he was head of a vicious mob empire, he'd be fine without her. When he could stand on his own feet, that's it — he was on his own.

The plan was unchanged, she'd take her go bag from its secret hiding place and disappear. No one knew about the place in Saint Croix, she bought it with cash six months ago fully furnished and ready for her anytime in the lush east end of the island, hidden in the hills. She wasn't a hundred per cent sure she'd be safe there, but she had to try.

Maybe she'd volunteer at the local animal shelter or hospital. Maybe she could earn some penance for all the bad things she'd done or redemption. It was a long shot; her soul was as black as icy, deep space. But she still clung to the tiny hope that there was something good left in her.

The gossamer clouds that had looked like cotton candy wisps against a brilliant blue sky had threaded together to make a concrete wall and the warmth of the day evaporated. Nadia shivered and pulled her sweater together tightly with one hand.

Sal should be ready to leave by tomorrow. She could still get away, make it to her island and to finally getting some peace. If they both lived that long. A sudden buzzing noise spooked her although she didn't flinch or jump. Nadia scanned the horizon with a hand over her eyes and saw a helicopter far in the distance. Nothing to do with them. She let out the breath she was holding.

One thing was for sure; they couldn't stay long. They were the proverbial sitting ducks and it was only a matter of time before bad people came for one or both of them.

She turned her face sharply to the left. There it was. The slight shiver like a cold whisper across the back of her neck. Goosebumps showered across her shoulders and down her arms and she thought she was being watched — not just thought it, knew it.

She went to turn when the blow came to the back of her head. She felt rather than saw the ceramic cup hit the rocks and shatter (that's two cups down including my favourite yellow happy face mug she thought and nearly laughed). She saw flashes of bright yellow streaks like shooting stars behind her eyes before everything went black.

Nadia was seized by a helpless terror so thick she felt it to the depths of her soul. This was the end for her. She thought she'd feel relief when the end came but all she felt was fear, sorrow and a deep loneliness.

She couldn't protect Sal and now he would pay the price. She should have shot him, at least his death would have been quick and merciful. She left him to an ending of agony, a bad death, the worst.

I'm a wicked sinner, she thought as she fell deep into darkness. And now is when I finally pay.