Page 77 of Break for Me

“Are you scared?” I asked him before I could stop myself. “Memphis sounded scared, Jersey.”

fifty-four

JERSEY

Scared?

Fucking terrified.

It was too late to undo it now, regardless of fear.

I’d opted to keep this girl, who I didn’t even know, who might decide that she actually wanted nothing at all to do with me, who might still try to kill me every time I closed my eyes. And in making that choice, I’d jeopardized everything about Memphis’ life. Absolutely everything. Right down to my existence in it.

And hers in mine.

“She has every right to be scared,” was all I could get myself to say back to Trista.

I didn’t even remember making the drive to this destination. I was nothing but confused by the time the GPS on the computer told me that I was in the right place.

“Don’t talk about what happened once we’re in here,” I said to Trista. “Don’t say anything at all. Not to him. Not to me. I have no way of knowing what he knows so we’re better off being silent.”

“What if he already knows what happened?” She asked. I watched both her hands ball into little fists and release, only to ball up again.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

The way that she smiled at my words felt like it broke every bone in my body simultaneously.

She believed me.

I shook my head to try to focus before I reached for the door handle. She grabbed my wrist to stop me.

“You were supposed to get a different phone out,” she said quietly. I squeezed the bridge of my nose. I wondered if that therapy that Memphis always talked about me needing would have a way to teach me to stop blacking out in moments of intense emotion. I reached behind us, in between the seats to dig through the front pocket of the duffel bag closest to me. I grabbed the first phone that my fingers landed on and plugged it in to the computer to bring it to life. I texted Memphis immediately to tell her that we’d made it to the doctor and that I’d have to leave this phone in the car to let it charge. Then my brain took over again and reminded me that leaving Memphis without a way to contact me was the best possible way to lose her for good. I dug through the bag behind me until I found a wall charger for the phone to just fucking take inside with me.

I carried Triss from the car to the door of the house and kicked the door when I got close enough so I wouldn’t have to sit her down to knock.

“This is just somebody’s house?” She asked uncomfortably.

“Very astute of you.”

“I swear to God, I’ll knock your ass out again.”

“Sucker punch,” I corrected. “You sucker punched me one time, and you most certainly did not knock my ass out.”

I heard footsteps from within, and the deadbolt on the door started to turn.

“Don’t speak,” I reminded her.

“Hi, Jake,” the small white-haired man on the other side of the door said as soon as he opened it. “Bring her this way. Quietly. My grandkids are asleep upstairs.”

“Doc,” I said and nodded that I understood before I followed him into the house. The look of confusion on Trista’s face was hilarious. I didn’t know this man. He obviously didn’t know me. Memphis hadn’t even given him my operational name. If word was already spreading that I’d broken the contract, no one within our President’s network would willingly help someone who went by the name of Jersey. Our organization, and others like it, had an entire crew of behind-the-scenes professionals that we turned to in uh-oh moments. They worked this way to pay off debts or to collect ridiculous sums of cash for whatever purpose they might need. All the doctors were “Doc.” They didn’t ask questions, we didn’t provide details, they did what they could to the best of their abilities, and we all parted ways with as little communication as possible through the process. Our organization didn’t foot this kind of bill. The uh-oh moments were considered our own fault and it was on us to correct them. Normally, something I’d curse myself to death for, but given the circumstances this time around, it felt more like a blessing that no one under the sun would be reaching out to our President about this visit in regard to payment.

Trista held her breath while I carried her down the stairs to Doc’s basement. I couldn’t begin to imagine how unpleasant this was about to be for her. I didn’t doubt that this man would be able to do something to help her survive the pain, but it wasn’t like he’d be able to put her under anesthesia to remove the knife that was still embedded in her leg right here in his basement. I sat Trista on the little twin bed that was setup in the corner bedroom of the basement and immediately went searching for an outlet to get this phone plugged in and charging while Doc looked closer at Trista’s leg.

“Well, I hope you weren’t attached to these jeans,” he said and chuckled at himself.

“Not nearly as much as I am to the leg.”

Why the genuine belly laugh that burst out of that old fucker made my blood boil was most confusing.

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