Tempted by Trouble (34 page)

“Let’s not talk about betrayal. And if you do, look in the mirror, not out the window.”

She backed down from that conversation, then said, “That was a lot of money.”

“It was.”

“You ever think about that money?”

“Every day, Cora. I think about that money every day. Every day I wish I had that money.”

“If that had been money from a bank and not from a church, would you have kept any of it?”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

She paused, then whispered, “Forgive me?”

I sipped my wine. “A little more each day.”

“When will we sleep in the same bed? When will you take me to bed?”

Though Cora and I had returned home together, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to be with her as man and wife. Not until the smell of other men was scrubbed from her body, not until she dyed her hair back to its natural color and cleaned her insides out, and not until we were both checked for diseases. Only then could we consummate the marriage once again, jump over these hurdles and get back what we lost, maybe renew our vows and have a second honeymoon whenever the money was in our favor. It would be in our favor once again.

She had led me down the path of wrong.

Now I needed to adjust my compass and lead her the other way.

I finished a glass of wine, thought of my promise, then poured another. “Tonight.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s sleep in the same bed tonight.”

“We haven’t been in the same bed for . . . a long time.”

“Let’s see how that feels. Let’s see if it feels right.”

She smiled. “I want to make love to you, Dmytryk.”

I smiled.

She whispered, “Did you love her?”

My response was, “Did you love him?”

No answers were given.

She whispered, “What do we do now?”

“We start over. We keep our heads high and make ends meet like everyone else.”

“Things will get better.”

I smiled. “Things will get better.”

“Would you do it all over again?”

“Which part?”

“Would you marry me again?”

I smiled, but I didn’t answer.

I said, “Let me do the dishes.”

“I’ll do them.”

“No, you cooked. I’ll do the dishes.”

“You just did all of the yard work.”

“We can do the dishes together.”

“I’d like that.”

In the background, the television was on. Twenty-four hours a day, the people who had jobs at CNN reminded me that the problem was debt. Like everyone else, I was going to ride this roller coaster until the ride was over. I wasn’t running. I wasn’t hiding. I was doing what Henrick would have done. At least that was what I liked to think. I was working hard and making do with what I had. I was an educated man and some company with a decent sign-on bonus, a 401(k), and health insurance would open up its corporate doors for me soon.

Cora said, “You leave some nights. I hear you when you walk out the door. I hear the car start.”

“I know.”

“You leave and don’t come home for two days.”

“But I come home.”

She paused and her lip trembled. “Where do you go?”

I didn’t answer.

She swallowed and asked, “Are you seeing someone?”

Another pause rested between us. Many pauses had rested between us since she returned.

“I love you, Cora. Despite everything, I love you. But I don’t love you as a fool loves.”

The wine moved through my veins. I filled another glass, drank it until the glass was empty, then I went to Cora and took her hand. I led her to the kitchen counter and turned her around. My lips touched Cora’s neck and the memories of when we had first met returned. We kissed and all was forgiven. She forgave me for my stubbornness and I forgave her for her indiscretion. All bitterness was gone and all I could taste was love. The kiss was filled with passion, and Cora shivered and moaned.

“Don’t stop, Dmytryk.”

I lifted her dress and pulled away her panties, pulled them hard until they tore away from her body. I undid my belt buckle and allowed my pants to fall to my ankles.

And while I kissed my wife, the doorbell rang three times.

I stopped and pulled my pants up, then went to the window and looked outside. A dark sedan was parked in front of my home.

I looked back toward the kitchen and Cora was smiling. She adjusted her dress, picked up her ripped panties, hid them inside a kitchen drawer, then winked at me before she turned around and started washing the dishes.

I called out, “Just a minute.”

I put on a suit coat in order to hide my erection. I went to the front door and opened it enough to look outside. I clicked on the porch light and saw two men dressed in black suits.

One of the men said, “Dmytryk Knight?”

“Yes. I’m Dmytryk Knight.”

Both men raised their badges and announced that they were with the FBI.

In a tone that had no room for compromise, they asked if they could come inside.

I had robbed banks. I had pulled the trigger and shot Eddie Coyle in the back of the head.

And now the FBI was standing outside my front door.

I looked back toward the kitchen and Cora was gone.

Then, palms sweating, I opened the front door and let the armed Feds inside my home.

One of them asked, “Is anyone else here with you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m alone. I live alone.”

The moment I saw
the FBI on my front porch, in my mind I relived what had happened back in Trussville. I thought about the tragedy. I saw the truth.

The woman whom I had married had remained ferocious, determined, and persuasive.

Cora wasn’t a weak woman, and she wouldn’t be turned into a docile housewife.

We were together inside that town home in Trussville. While sirens blared outside on Highway 11, with the police and sheriffs in Trussville searching for Eddie Coyle and friends, that town home had become our prison. No matter what the reason, I had stood behind Eddie Coyle and pulled the trigger on that nine-millimeter. Cora had watched me put a hole in the back of his head. She had witnessed his head exploding the same way I had seen Sammy’s head come apart. Cora had watched me murder Eddie Coyle in cold blood. She didn’t know why I had done it. She assumed it was because they were lovers. Maybe that was part of the reason. And she ran from me, stumbled over furniture, and fell down. I had raised the gun seeking vengeance, but I couldn’t kill her. I was where I was because of her. I had done what I had done because of her. I wouldn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill her. She knew that.

It was impossible to kill Cora without killing part of myself.

As snow fell outside, I extended my hand and helped her up from the floor. Cora took my hand and I pulled her to her feet. She stood in silence for a long moment, her head wrapped in bloody gauze, inhaling the reality of Eddie Coyle’s death.

She whispered, “You killed him.”

I had become a CEO who was executing his business with a calmness that was terrifying. For a brief moment, she was scared of me. I had changed. She wanted to bolt out into the darkness and snow, but she knew that she wouldn’t get far. If she ran out the front door, she had no transportation, and with her dizziness she’d be lucky to make it to the railroad tracks.

She repeated, “You killed him.”

A surge of power ran through me. I didn’t care.

“You killed Jackie. Bishop is dead. Eddie Coyle is dead.”

Her eyes came to mine.

She whispered, “The money is all ours.”

Standing over the dead body of her lover, that wasn’t what I had expected from Cora.

I said, “I didn’t shoot Eddie Coyle for the money.”

“It’s ours now, Dmytryk.”

“The money stays.”

“The money stays? What does that mean?”

“The money stays here.”

“Leave the money?”

“We get our things and get out of here, but the money stays.”

“If we leave this money, then everything that I have done, everything I worked and sacrificed for, will be meaningless. I’d be right back where we started.”

“We’ll never be back where we started.”

“Are you afraid?”

I shook my head. “I’m not afraid.”

“You’re afraid. You’re still the coward you were six months ago.”

“Not me, Cora. You. You’re still the coward that walked out on me. You want everything easy.”

“I planned this for six months, and now you think I’m going to walk away? Now it’s down to the two of us, Dmytryk. It’s back to where it all started. You and me. It’s back to the way you wanted it. Only now we have the resources to live a better life. We can start over.”

“The money stays. Just you and me. We leave. We start over.”

“Broke? We start over broke.”

“We struggle like everyone else. We struggle and we overcome and we make this one of the greatest stories of survival and love that . . . we make it a great love story . . . that’s what we do.”

“You’ve killed and robbed like everyone else, and now you want to take the high road?”

“The money stays.”

“If the money stays, how long do you think we’ll last? Until we get to Nashville? We wouldn’t last until Nashville, Dmytryk. We wouldn’t last three hours. I left Detroit because of friggin’ money issues and I’m not going to go back there as broke as I was when I left. I didn’t grow up like you, Dmytryk. I grew up broke. My father died broke and my mother struggled until she died. I’m not going to live that life. Maybe if there was some guarantee that this would end, but it’s only getting worse. There is no end in sight.”

“The money stays.”

“And if I did make it back to Detroit, if I left with you, if I made love to you every night, if we went back to that same routine, if I cooked for while you cut the yard, at some point, I’d hate myself for being so weak for you, I’d hate how much you love me, and I would poison you. I’d think about this moment, and I’d kill you and bury you with your other secret. The one that you and Eddie Coyle left by the Uniroyal tire. Dmytryk, it’s us and the money or there is no us.”

“I’m in this because of you.”

“You made your own choices, Dmytryk.”

“You’re right. I have. I’ve robbed banks. I’ve watched men get shot and die. Sammy and Rick are dead. I’ve kidnapped. I killed Jackie. I killed Eddie Coyle. Don’t you see where this road is leading? Even if we were apart for the last six months, we’ve danced this dance together. We’ve been in this together from the start. You pushed me into this business and now I’m pulling you out. I’m not asking you to walk away. I’m telling you that this is done.”

“You’re jealous of Eddie Coyle.”

“Not anymore.”

“You will always hate Eddie Coyle. You wish you were a man like Eddie Coyle.”

“Is that what you think? Really? Eddie Coyle was living from bank job to bank job the way a man lives from paycheck to paycheck. How much longer before you would have left him? He tucked you away in a small town decorated with Confederate flags. But you’re not a small-town girl. You’re Brooklyn. You’re Detroit. How long was that going to last?”

“The job would’ve been done. So I would’ve been done with him.”

“Just like our marriage.”

“Eddie Coyle would’ve been finished with me too.”

“So he was good until you had your big score.”

Cora said, “Clear your head. We don’t have to split the money six ways. It’s just us. Let’s take the money with us. Let’s talk about this somewhere else. But let’s take the money.”

“The money stays.”

“Fine. I’ll take what’s mine and you can leave your share. Better yet, you leave your one hundred thousand inside the bag and I’ll take everyone else’s cut and we can part ways.”

“The money stays here in Trussville.”

“Then everything I’ve done will be meaningless. I have sacrificed everything. I sacrificed my love for you. I have sacrificed my marriage to you. I left you. That was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I had to do it when you were gone. I had to do it and not look back. I had to fight wanting to call you every day and every night. I had to leave a man I loved and take up with a man who meant nothing to me. And I’m not going to pretend that it will ever be the same. I’ve been with Eddie. You were with Jackie. Six months apart. We’re new people now. I have risked everything, and it can’t be for nothing.”

“
I’ve risked everything.
I’m standing inside this room with blood on my clothes and on my hands, my body battered, bruised, because I risked everything and I did it for you.”

“What do you want from me, Dmytryk?”

“I want the woman I married.
I want my wife.
”

“
She doesn’t exist anymore.
That woman does not exist anymore.”

She was right.

What I’d been praying for the last six months no longer existed. My honest lifestyle wasn’t good enough for her. She had become a criminal, and that was who she was now.

I nodded. “What are we going to do now?”

Cora said, “There is only one way out of this.”

She held her wounded head and stepped to the table and picked up Eddie Coyle’s nine-millimeter. Eddie Coyle’s gun had been reloaded. Cora was determined to win this fight.

I said, “Don’t do it, Cora.”

She stepped on the other side of the money, and for a moment, she paused. In the end she took a deep breath, licked her lips, and aimed the death end of her gun at my heart. She aimed at me with the intent to kill me. Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes watered.

My gun was raised and pointing at her, only my finger wasn’t on the trigger.

My insides were ablaze, a spreading wildfire. I asked, “Did you love me?”

“I love you, Dmytryk Knight. But I can’t go back to poverty.”