Broken (20 page)

He folds up the jeans he wore yesterday and puts them in his suitcase and zips it up. He is ready to go. If Laila doesn’t
want to meet with him and continues to get herself into trouble, then let her. He’s tried and been trying, but he’s not about
to get himself killed for no reason. He isn’t responsible just for himself anymore. There are others involved, and he needs
to think of them.

As he glances at his suitcase, he notices the front zipper is open. It’s got a small pouch at the very top. Lex opens it and
sees there’s something inside.

He pulls out a photo.

It’s a black-and-white shot that could have been taken with the camera he found earlier. It resembles the kind of photos Laila
used to take.

When he examines it, he begins to wonder if this is indeed one of the shots Laila took.

It’s a picture of Lex laughing hysterically somewhere in the pasture on their property. He looks at the teenager and wonders
what it would be like to have that kind of joy again. To not be twenty-four yet feeling like he was fifty-four and weighed
down with all this baggage.

He knows perhaps he should feel like that baggage is gone, that his newfound commitment and faith would leave all the rest
behind. But it doesn’t work like that.

At least it doesn’t work that way with Lex.

For a moment he’s transported back to the day this shot was taken. It’s probably a day just like any other. Laila out with
him exploring the Texas fields or bathing in the sun or making up stories and laughing. He remembers they used to laugh so
much. Laila could get him laughing until he cried. She was a master at it. And this shot details it so perfectly.

“I’ve never seen this,” he says as he looks at the back of the photo.

He sighs and thinks again about that drink.

A man can change his ways, but his tendencies still shadow his every move. He can get on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness,
but that doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t have to do it again. He can confess that God is his master and that Jesus is his
savior and yet he still might decide to forgo his master and savior and become the boss again.

That’s how he feels. That’s why his breath shakes as he lets out a sigh.

Lex sits down on the side of the bed and prays and turns the photograph of himself.

There’s something going on here that he can’t explain. But he feels it.

And he feels the compulsion to stay.

“God, please protect us. Bring us back home safely. That’s all I ask.”

He puts the photo back in his suitcase and then puts the bag back on the floor.

He knows he can’t leave yet. Not this way. Not this soon.

Lex has unfinished business with Laila.

There are things she needs to know, and this might be the last chance he’ll ever have to tell her.

•   •   •

Amos feels his eyes close longer than a blink and decides to get out of the car. He climbs out and walks down the sidewalk
past the three-story white house and then back in front of it again. Just to get his heart beating and to keep himself fresh.
He opens the trunk of his car and takes out an energy drink that’s hot to drink but will do the trick. He gets back in his
car and keeps the engine off to stay overheated and awake.

He followed Connor to this place. Amos doesn’t need to wonder what’s inside. He got a glimpse of the woman answering the door.
She was an older lady, and though she wasn’t dressed in anything like lingerie or something risqué, Amos still knows. How
Connor found the name and the address of the brothel is like asking a crack whore how she found cocaine. It’s all the same.
Sniffing noses always leads the animals to what they’re looking for.

It’s almost six o’clock and normally he would be sitting down eating his dinner and watching his television shows. His is
a life of routines, and usually he watches the six o’clock local news in Chicago and then
Seinfeld
. Nothing gets him laughing like
Seinfeld
. Some people through the years have said he looks and acts like the character of Puddy, which he takes as a compliment. Though
he knows that Puddy has never taken a .45, jammed it into someone’s mouth, and made them clamp onto it before pressing the
trigger not once but twice. He might look and act like the guy, but he knows better. There are many things he’s not good at,
but he is good at the things he needs to be good at.

That’s why he’s paid well. Why he’s able to live a comfortable life in these uncomfortable times.

It’s quarter till seven when the sound of glass makes him reach for the gun on the passenger seat. He scans the house down
the road through his windshield and sees something falling from the second window.

That something turns out to be a man.

That man turns out to be Connor.

Amos sees the door to the house open and the same woman standing at the doorway, taking aim.

A couple of rounds go off. He ducks himself because it seems like the woman doesn’t have a clue how to shoot a gun.

Connor scampers across the street. He doesn’t appear injured at all. He does, however, appear to be missing his shirt.

Another crack sounds, and Amos imagines that she’s firing a .22. No way she’s going to hit Connor with him running away like
that. He’d have a hard time himself.

Connor actually passes him as he is running. He does a double take when he sees Amos in the car.

For a moment it seems like time stops as the two men look at each other.

Connor keeps going.

Amos watches him from the mirror in the car, still waiting, in no hurry.

When Connor disappears, Amos starts the car again. The woman is no longer in the doorway, though there’s another woman looking
out the shattered window on the second story, a pretty redhead. A young and pretty redhead.

A young, pretty redhead with blood streaming down her nose.

Just like a dog sniffing another. They’re all the same thing.

As he heads back to the hotel, knowing that Connor recognized him and will surely tell his brother, Amos wishes he was at
home watching
Seinfeld
.

“Soon,” he tells himself. “Very soon.”

•   •   •

James curses and slaps Connor in the face. It doesn’t hurt Connor as much as humiliate him. And as much as Connor might want
to hit him back, he doesn’t. He knows better. He knows who will eventually win when push comes to shove.

“What are you thinking?”

“No need to yell,” Connor says, rubbing the side of his face.

“Well? What’s going through that head of yours?”

“I was feeling cooped up.”

“So what? You decide to pay a visit to some escort service without having any money?”

“Something like that.”

“She should’ve shot you in the head. We’d all be better off.”

“She certainly tried,” Connor said. “Though that’s not the problem I was talking about.”

They’re in their hotel room, though James isn’t worrying who might be next to them or in the hallway. He’s getting ready to
head over to Kyle’s hotel. Connor is slipping on one of James’ long-sleeved T-shirts.

“So what then?”

“You remember Amos Murray? Big guy? Square-looking.”

“What do you mean do I remember him? That’s a stupid question.”

“I saw him.”

James stops and looks at Connor. “Where?”

“Outside the house.”

“You stupid man. Did he see you?”

“Stared right at my face.”

James stops and thinks for a minute.

“What?”

“If he saw you and let you go, that means we’re not dead. Not yet.”

“You think that was a warning?” Connor asks.

“I don’t know. He just must not care about being spotted.”

“So you were right.”

James puts the gun in his pants and pulls the short-sleeved shirt over it. “Of course I was right. When am I not right?”

Connor says something, but James ignores it.

“You need to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because first of all, you might go off and do something else. Second, I need you to get that money for me.”

“What are you going to be doing?”

“Look—I don’t trust this Kyle fella even if he is young and stupid and probably in love. Who knows what’ll happen? And now
that I know Amos is out there—you need to get him to tail you.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to lie in the shadows and wait. And watch.”

“Watch for what?”

“Watch for her. Laila’s out there somewhere. She’s in this city. And she’s eventually going to show up. When she does, we’ll
get her. Or I’ll get her.”

“And Amos?”

“I’ll handle him,” James says. “He’s going to wish he never saw you.”

The first time it happened–the first time it was really official, that I got paid for it–I remember being left alone in the
hotel room almost seconds after it was over. The act itself wasn’t what tore me up inside, what prompted my deluge of tears.
It was how quickly he got out of the room. As if I was some plague he needed to be rid of. As if the money was all that mattered
to me, nothing else. Eventually I grew to think that was all that mattered. And soon I began to think nothing mattered. Not
my body and not the money and nothing, including my soul.

When you’re young, there are things you tell yourself you will never do. But slowly time ties you up and beats you down and
forces you to submit. And eventually those idealistic notions seem like pipe dreams. Especially when the dreams you did have
as a young girl–dreams of going to the big city and walking down a runway and falling in love and having everything you could
ever imagine–turned out to be as empty as the actions of a woman giving her body over to a stranger in some hotel room.

These are the things that haunt me the most.

I believe in demons. I know they’re out there. And I know they hunt the needy and the hopeless.

J
ames watches Connor and remembers finding him lying in a pool of blood at the mansion in Burr Ridge, Illinois. He’d been called
there by one of Connor’s friends, though James wouldn’t consider any of the three men friends. None of them knew what to do
with a bleeding and unconscious man. A man they assumed had died just like the shooter did. So they called his brother, and
James was left to deal with the mess, just like he’d been doing his whole life.

That night James resigned himself to the fact that his younger brother was going to die. But one thing James knew about Connor
was the guy was strong. He was a lot of bad things, but he was also strong.

And as James waited for him at the hospital right at the start of the new year, he began to think of what he would do once
he found the woman responsible for this.

James knew their time with the woman who shot Connor wasn’t over.

It just so happened that on the journey toward discovering who she was, James also found out her very wealthy family missed
her terribly.

Thus a plan was concocted involving Connor playing the part of the haunting ghost and James playing the part of the vengeful
brother.

And now, having failed at both of their parts, James watches Connor heading down the street and notices the car following
him.

The guy tailing him is doing a great job, especially considering he’s in a car. Occasionally he stops or pulls over and all
the while remains a good distance away from Connor. James is on the other side of the street, remaining in doorways and alcoves
and hidden behind people. With the sun going down, the streets are getting busier. Connor takes his time and acts oblivious,
and James doesn’t know whether his brother is acting or not.

He can see the head and shoulders of the man in the tailing car. James knows enough not to mess with Amos. Yet he also knows
that Amos needs to be dealt with. Either you deal with Amos or Amos deals with you, it’s one way or the other. James prefers
it this way.

They reach the hotel, and Amos parks his car and gets out as Connor walks inside. Amos looks around casually and then walks
down the street. The man is wearing a sports coat over a T-shirt and jeans. James hopes he doesn’t have to get hit by the
guy. There are a lot of things in this life that might hurt, and being hit by someone like Amos has to be at the top of them.
Amos could break Connor in two. And that’s what he might eventually do unless James does something.

“Come on,” he says to himself.

He hopes that before anything else happens, Connor gets that money. If the money is there. As long as they have a little something,
there’s a chance to escape. There’s a chance to leave this city. Maybe go down to Mexico, though he knows that’s such a cliché.
Perhaps go north, far north, to Canada. Anywhere to get far away from Danny and his many reaches.

He speeds up just as Amos steps into the hotel.

James feels the butt of his gun lodged between his jeans and his bare skin. He wants a cigarette but knows he doesn’t have
time.

The sky above is turning orange. It doesn’t feel as hot without the sun beating down on him.

James takes a breath and then stops right before the entrance to the hotel.

He waits for a few minutes. Thinking. Debating.

And that’s right when he sees the tall figure walking up the hotel steps and going inside.

For a moment he can’t believe his eyes.

Laila doesn’t even see him.

It’s almost too good to be true.

James bites down gently on the tip of his tongue, feels the butt of his gun again, and heads toward the doorway.

•   •   •

Laila enters the glass doors and sees the small desk right in the front with an open hallway to the left and a separate room
on the right. She knows it’s him at the desk even before he turns around. She knows it’s Connor. Something about the way he’s
standing and that tall, slim physique. He’s equally surprised to see her, smiling and standing still.

“Boo,” he says.

A man who looks and moves like a football player emerges from behind a wall in the corridor to her left. A quick glance shows
that the stranger is holding a gun.