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But he was safe for now. They all were. Until I figured out what the hell it had to do with Noemi. I can protect myself but protecting her was paramount to my ability to live. If anything happened to her.... If I couldn’t stop whatever the fuck was going on...
***
ILAID MY HEAD ON THEcool hotel pillow. My fucking head hurt.
I had feelers out in my network. I had bribes placed with the right people. I didn’t have anyone I could fully trust. But I had to give myself a time-out. Word could eventually get around. Even in the dark, people talk. I didn’t want to come across as desperate. Everyone would expect me to want to know who had made two unsuccessful attempts on my life, but I had to make sure the power remained mine. I couldn’t be viewed as weak.
The ache in my gut returned as I reached for a swig of the cheap scotch I got at the liquor store on the corner. No. I couldn’t be seen as more than a man seeking revenge for a plot to kill him.
The truth was, for the time being, I was fucked. I had to protect Noemi, but in order to do that, I had to walk away from her. That was my intention all along, but now, it wasn’t my choice which made me feel manipulated.
Restless, I stood up and walked to the open window. I pushed aside the hotel room curtain and stared out into the New Orleans night, so brightly lit I wondered how anyone could fall asleep with the multi-colored lights shining through their windows.
I frowned into the night, my body tense and my mind wired. I liked my easy, cut-throat world. I chose my victims carefully and my clients even more carefully. I didn’t like being manipulated, and I didn’t like complications.
And that’s what Noemi was; a wide-eyed, red-lipped, soft-spoken complication.
And I missed her.
I threw back another swallow, a heftier one that time. I wanted to feel that burn scorch the back of my throat. I wanted the physical discomfort to match the emotional one. From somewhere deep inside me where the heart of a young man lay dormant, Noemi claimed a piece of me. I missed our conversations and the way she tilted her head right before she argued with me. I missed her soft voice and the way I felt whenever she was near me. I didn’t even have to be touching her and her warmth bonded me to her.
I even missed the way her eyes teared up when she saw the bastard I really was.
Fuck airports. I couldn’t walk into one now without the memory of breaking her.
Or maybe I was delusional. She had cried, but maybe she was fine. She had been back home for four days. She and Lilly were probably having lunch and shopping. She had mentioned she wanted to start job hunting. She would spend her time writing her resume and searching for suitable positions.
With a growl, I sat in the corner chair, steepling my fingers and bracing my elbows on my knees. I stared at the ugly, Mardi-Gras inspired carpet with its fireworks of green and purple fibers, but all I could see was Noemi on the beach; Noemi walking in the surf on Smuggler’s Island; Noemi bathed in moonlight on the deck of theMary Theresa.
Noemi - strong and bold when she needed to be, but sweet and submissive when that was what I needed from her. Others may have thought her weak, but she met me at every turn, laughing at my whims, drawing me out of myself all while she was becoming a part of me.
I couldn’t walk away without fighting for her. I had work to do. Delacroix. Her brother. One of them was the puppet master in all of this. I was leaving New Orleans in the morning. I did what I set out to do there. I poked the hornet’s nest.
Then I waited for what was next. I checked the gun I had hidden under the pillow then I made sure the knives I strapped to my calves were secure.
I was ready. I turned out the lights and returned to the chair in the corner.
It was just past midnight when the doorknob jiggled. I had chosen the older hotel for its squeaky floors, outdated hardware, and seedy clientele. It helped that the man at the counter had a drug problem and the extra cash made his Friday night a lot brighter.
I stayed in my corner, waiting for whoever it was to make the mistake of breaking in. How was this as fucking easy as the last time? If it were me, the fact that the chain door guard wasn’t in place would be the clue that my unwanted appearance was, nonetheless, expected.
Whoever this amateur was, he continued to jimmy the decrepit deadbolt giving himself away with a “yeah, baby,” when he finally succeeded.
I shook my head, feeling a small amount of reluctance for what I was about to do to the person on the other side of the door.
A young male, scrawny and carrying a small handgun, make and model undeterminable in the dark, pushed the door open, stopping as he walked inside. He shut the door quickly, but the brief stream of light from the hallway illuminated him well enough.
I shook my head. This was no assassin, and I was damned insulted that these were the people continually being sent to kill me.
“I hope you have the calvary coming soon,” I said from my corner as I stood up.
“Oh, fuckin’ shit!” the kid cried out.
“Let me guess,” I leaned over and switched on the desk lamp. “You’re just here to rob the place?”
He blinked, unsteadily waving his gun at me.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
