Page 93 of The Big Fix

The taxi driver dropped me a street over because we got stuck in traffic. I passed him the hundred I promised, got out, and ran through the swanky, bright Western District that mixed flashy new bars and aging topless joints. The area was packed with locals.

When I came around the corner, I saw Sara in her Mercedes, parked on a busy side street, and raced toward her. I was fifteen yards from the car when I saw a guy dressed in black run across the intersection. As he passed the Mercedes, he threw his backpack under Sara’s vehicle, then ran away as fast as he could.

“No!” I screamed, because I knew what was going to happen.

Relief obvious on her face, Sara smiled and waved. And then the car exploded.

I didn’t hear the bomb. I only saw the white-hot flash of light a split second before the detonation. My mind screamed as I was hurled off my feet by a scorching blast of wind and smoke. A vicious hail of debris rained down moments later.

Unsteadily, I got to my feet, dazed, blood dripping down my face, my hearing muffled, brain battered. I stood rooted to the spot for long, cold moments, staring, thinking it had to be C-4 in the pack. Nothing else caused a blast like that. My logical mind was working; my heart was not engaged, not yet, otherwise I’d be on the ground, wailing.

Car alarms were going off all around me as I made my way forward. Fists of thick smoke mushroomed out of the flames from the car, the air suffused with the stench of cordite and burned flesh. I could hardly breathe, my eyes watering as my throat burned. Everywhere I looked, I saw the twisted bodies of the dead sprawled on the ground. Some of the charred corpses were on fire. Others had simply been ripped apart by the sheer force of the explosion. Sara was not the only casualty. There were many.

Only the twisted metal chassis of her car remained, churning black smoke into the air. There was nothing to do, and staying there was a mistake. A crowd was already forming, and I could hear police sirens in the distance. If I remained there, I would be seen. Already, street cameras had me. That would have to be dealt with. I couldn’t afford to be detained and questioned before I could talk to my contact in the Royal Hong Kong Police. I needed to get away quickly and quietly. I turned away from my friend, everything in me screaming not to leave her. But I ran because she was dead and there was nothing more to do. I’d failed her, and that was my cross to bear.

I made it two blocks before I ducked into an alley and threw up. My phone rang when I was stumbling out.

“Ronan’s dead,” Darius told me. “The front door was smashed, the lock busted. He’s probably been dead all day. The blood is dry.”

“How?” I rasped.

Darius explained that the triad must’ve gotten to him. His throat had been so fiercely slashed that his head lopped at a grotesque angle. The knife used was left in the center of his chest.

“Sara?” Darius asked.

“Dead,” I husked. “Car bombing.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll call for the cleanup, I’ll call the embassy, and I’ll call our guy with the police. Just go to the hotel. I’ll meet you there.”

I didn’t argue. I did as told. I waited in the dark for Darius, and then he sat in the dark with me through that horrible, long night.

A day later I got a call from Owen’s grandparents. He had never arrived.

“You do realize,” Jing said, from where she was sitting at the kitchen island, “that none of that was your fault.”

I took a seat at the table, next to Owen. “Were you listening? If I’d gotten to her before the—”

“No.” Owen took my hand in both of his, holding tight before lifting it up and pressing it to his heart. “My father’s dalliance started it, put him on their radar, and when they realized they were going to lose him and that everything he knew would come to light, they killed him and my mother and tried to take their revenge on me as well. The whole thing can be traced back to him and one horrible decision.”

“It’s not a horrible decision,” Arden said. “It’s a human one. I mean, it turned out to be life-altering, but people cheat all the time, and all it does is end their relationship. It doesn’t all end in death.” She looked at Owen. “I understand if you hate your father for what happened because of what he did, but it doesn’t take away from his love for you.”

“Oh, I disagree.” Jing was adamant. “He cheated on Sara and Owen. He stopped being a good man then and there.”

“I think that’s for Owen to decide,” Dante said, stirring the sauce he was making. “But did you know how your mother died?”

“I knew she died in an explosion, but not how,” he said, then to me, “Thank you for telling me, and thank you for trying to save her.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

He slipped a hand around the back of my neck and eased me close, pressing my face into his shoulder. “I know you are, but there was nothing you could have done. And she didn’t suffer. Her last thought was, There’s Jared. I’m going to be okay.”

That thought had nearly destroyed me. It had taken years for me to get past that moment. Now, in the present, I shuddered with the memory.

“It’s sad,” Owen murmured. “She didn’t deserve what happened. But have you ever thought that the only thing she really cared about was me?”

I nodded.

“Who did you save?”