Rogue Alliance

FORTY-FOUR



“Thanks for picking me up, Brennan.”

“No problem, Boss,” Brennan said, keeping his eye on the road.

“Stop by the burger joint before heading home, will ya. I’m starving and that food they feed you in jail is bland as cardboard. I need something juicy to sink my teeth into.”

“Sure.”

Brennan was distracted and moody. Victor’s brash, careless attitude was clashing with his own. Gritting his teeth, he kept quiet and drove.

“Now on to business,” Victor continued, “I’ve got to make some phone calls and see if everything’s on schedule for the drop before Halloween. I want security tighter than usual and all possible loop holes sealed up. I know that bitch Shyla is going to be on my ass and I can’t afford for the guy running this shipment to get wind of what’s been going on and get spooked. I assume Shyla is still around?”

“She is.”

Victor rolled down the window and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

“Yeah, I figured,” he said, “it’ll be fun to mess with her. I don’t know who she thinks she is or who she thinks she’s messing with, but she’s got another thing coming if she thinks she’s going to win this battle.”

“She’s just doing her job.”

“Oh, really?” Victor said, glaring at him, “Well so am I. And so are you. Don’t forget it.”

“How could I?”

“What’s going on with you today? You’re grumpy as hell and it’s like pulling teeth to get you to talk.”

Brennan wasn’t sure if he should share the news about his health, or the incident in the woods.

“I haven’t been feeling very well lately,” he said.

“What, like you’re sick or something?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Are you taking your supplement? Maybe you need to increase your intake.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. Don’t worry, Boss, I’ll be alright.”

“Well, I need you to be your best. Things are crazy around here and I don’t imagine they’ll settle down anytime soon. Which reminds me, what’s the scoop on Ricardo?”

“Word is,” Brennan said, “that he didn’t talk while he was behind bars but he’s out now on a technicality.”

“Hmm, good,” Victor said, easing back in his seat, “it’ll be a lot easier to get to him on the outside. I’ll make a few phone calls. He’ll be taken care of by the end of the week.”

Brennan knew very well what he meant by taken care of. Why couldn’t he escape death? It seemed to permeate his everyday life no matter how he tried to avoid it.

After they rolled out of the fast-food drive-thru Victor bit into his burger and talked around a mouthful of beef.

“I want you to keep an eye on her,” he said,

“Shyla?”

“Yeah, Shyla. I want you to watch her every move, let me know if she has any plans to travel and - if you can - tap her phone. I don’t trust her. She’s like a rabid dog; she won’t give up until she’s done what she came to do.”

Brennan had to admit he liked the idea of keeping an eye on her. It meant that he could help keep her out of trouble, at least where Victor was concerned. If he was going to die soon, he figured the last thing he could do was keep her safe for as long as possible.

“That means I’ll be away from the house more,” he said, “and not able to guard you around the clock.”

“I’ll hire another guard. That’s easy. My priority is to know what she’s up to at all times. She’s not the type to forgive and forget easily. And neither am I,” Victor lowered his voice, “I guess she and I are even more I alike than I thought. That’s bad news for the both of us and not likely to end well.”



*



That night, as Brennan laid in bed thinking, he realized that he had two sores inside his mouth; one on his inner cheek and the other low on the gum line. Now aware of them, he thought back and realized that they’d been there for a while now, perhaps a little over a week.

His mind started racing. Maybe this was just one of many of signs and symptoms to come as his body began to slowly break down under the cloak of his disease. It had been increasingly harder to get up at his usual early hours, and he’d already skipped his morning run twice last week. He had convinced himself it was because of his hectic lifestyle. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Well, he wasn’t going to do that anymore, no matter how he was feeling. There was no way he was going to go down without a fight.

Restless, he hopped out of bed and stood in front of his bathroom mirror under the glare of the fluorescent light. Did his skin look paler? Blotchier? He opened his mouth and couldn’t help notice there were actually four small sores in his mouth; two he’d not known about on the side of his tongue.

I’m going to die.

He had just acquired his freedom and his life was about to be cut short.

He had so many questions unanswered. He’d told Shyla that his past was better left a mystery, but now he wasn’t so sure. He did want to know where he came from, who he was, who his parents were. She’d offered to help him and perhaps, he realized, he needed to rethink that proposition.