Page 27 of Salvation

When I woke up in the empty bed this morning just after sunrise, I immediately panicked. I always do when Hope is not in my arms.

Every morning she’s not snuggled into my body, I have an initial jolt of fear as if she’s not real and she doesn’t really love me. It’s an old fear, yet one that is a constant. My mother told me so often as a child that I was evil and unlovable that it irreversibly damaged me. I know that it’s not true and once my rational brain is able to function, the thoughts fade away, but they never dispel completely. There’s always that nagging in the very back recesses of my mind that say, “She’s right. Hope can’t love you.

“You can never have a real, lasting relationship with Hope.

“She’ll leave you.

“You aren’t good enough…

“Loving Hope is dangerous…

“Your love could very well destroy her.”

Of course, I beat them back even though a part of me knows very well that it’s true. Hope is too good for me and one day no matter what I do… she’ll realize it. She’ll realize that she’s so much better than I am and that loving me is dangerous. One day, she’ll make the smart choice to leave me where I stand, and on that day… my darkness will overcome me.

With Hope I’m able to beat it back. She’s a beacon of hope… just like her name. She is my salvation and the only thing that quells the darkness that threatens to overtake me every single minute of every single day.

The low voice in my ear snaps me back to the here and now… “Gabrial… it’s all here. Would you like me to release the product?”

Looking up, I see the frown bunching the skin of Max’s forehead. He has a slight question in his eyes. I realize he must have asked me something, or that he was talking to me, for a bit before the part I just heard.

Staring at him, I ask curtly, “The money is all there?”

He nods. “It is. All in unmarked bills as you requested.”

I glance down and quickly scan the open duffel bag of bills. There is five-hundred-thousand-dollars in that bag. More money than most people make in a year… more than some people make in a lifetime. For me though, it’s one transaction. One person’s payment for making a deal with the devil.

I nod once. “Yes, they can have it. Just make sure they know that it’s pure and will need to be cut. If they sell it as is, they will have dead customers. That’s bad for both of us.”

He nods once and zips the bag closed before handing it to me. My hand closes around the handle and I see my men close in around me as Max crosses the floor to the other side of the warehouse. He approaches the young man standing there. He’s barely old enough to need to shave regularly and is fidgeting. I watch them as a brief conversation ensues. I hear Max tell the young man that the cocaine is pure and the men he works for will need to cut it before selling it or they will kill all of their customers. The young man glances over at me quickly before returning his gaze to Max and he jerkily nods.

Max makes the hand signal behind his back to let my men know it’s safe to bring out the product. Ten minutes later, the drugs are wheeled into the room on a pallet covered with gaming boxes. The drugs are hidden inside so as not to draw attention to the young man standing there as he transports them. He isn’t the buyer. He’s just the mule. But he’ll be well compensated for his part in the illegal activity. Not by me. By the buyer.

A couple of men load them into a gaming store van, and then, they’re off. Yet another successful transaction has gone down.

Max looks over at me and says, “Do you think he’ll tell them to cut it?”

Shrugging, I stare out at the expanse of my warehouse. “I don’t know. If he’s smart he will. Dead customers bring cops and the people who hired him don’t want cops sniffing around. If he doesn’t tell them, he’s as good as dead. But even if they don’t cut it, those drugs won’t trace back to me.”

Max smirks though the sadness in his eyes at the age of the mule and the life he’s already gotten himself involved in shows. “I kind of figured boss. I hope this was a one and done deal for him. He’s just a kid.”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s all about knowing your audience. That boy will be dead or in jail within the year. He’s already in too deep.” I pat the bag. “But I’ve been paid. He’s made his choices… whatever his reasons. He’s not my problem.”

It’s a damn shame. But I can’t dwell on it.

Shouldering the bag, I cross the room. As we reach the doors, I look behind me. My men are flanking me on all sides with Max walking in front in case anyone should have the bad idea to attempt to rob me. I nod to the man at my back. “Get the lights and make sure the bolt catches, will you?”

He nods once and we step into the now empty parking lot. I glance around. Davey is at the side of the car and two more SUVs are parked around it. He smiles and opens the door as we approach. “What’s next?”

Tossing the bag carelessly onto the seat as if it’s a sweatshirt, I stretch and turn my face to the sun. It’s as hot as hell and I really want to remove this jacket. Unbuttoning it, I shrug it off, and throw it over the bag but leave my perfectly pressed shirt buttoned and tucked in. I check my cuff links though I already know they’re still locked and holding my pristine cuffs in place. “Now, I think a break is in order. Let’s head to the house to secure this, and then, I’d like some lunch.”

He nods and closes the door after signaling to the other men.

Max is next to me. He leans his head back and closes his eyes for a second as Davey turns the car around and leaves the warehouse in the rearview mirror. I ask him, “Long night?”

Cracking his eyes open, he grins at me. “Something like that. The baby was up all night and I let Mags sleep in. I don’t know how women do this shit like it’s nothing.”

I laugh. “You can rest. I don’t foresee any trouble between here and home.

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