They keep me cuffed and bring me into an interrogation room, dumping me in a chair. I lean back, resting my head on the wall, and close my eyes. All I can see is the small smile on Vera’s lips. I hold on to that image.
A detective comes in and introduces himself. I don’t tell him shit. I’ve been here before. I tell them I want my lawyer. When they ask for a name I give them Shayla Reese’s name. She’s the only one who can help me. She knows why we were in that apartment and who Javier is. She knows Vera’s story. I ask for updates on Vera, but no one’s telling me shit. They think I shot her. I can’t stop shaking. I killed people. I blew Javier’s fucking brains out. I’m not sorry about it, but I’m not coping too well with it either. I shot three people, including an FBI agent. I’m going down this time.
I can’t be still. Banging my head on the wall, I try to get the image of Vera lying in a pool of blood out of my head. If she dies I don’t care what they do to me. They can toss me back in prison until I fucking rot. I don’t care. I’m dead if she’s dead. No one’s telling me anything. They just stare at me. They know who I am. They know I escaped prison once. They don’t want me to escape again. I see the contempt in their eyes.
It’s hours or days—who can fucking tell?—before the door finally opens and Shay walks in. I bolt up straight in my chair. She’s my link to the outside and to Vera. There’s a grim set to her mouth. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet mine.
“How’s Vera?”
She waits until the detective closes the door to speak. “She’s in surgery. That’s all I know right now. You, however, are in some very serious trouble until we can get this sorted out. What the hell happened in that apartment?”
I give her all the details I can remember. When I’m done, I ask the other question I’ve been anxious for the answer to.
“Are they all dead?”
“The marshal, Javier Abano, Agent Carter, and the guy you shot on the stairs are. The other guy they found in the bedroom with Vera is in grave condition. They don’t expect him to survive his head wound.”
I lower my head. “Fuck.” I’m not sorry Javier’s dead, but I don’t feel good about it. I killed three people today. I don’t know how to reconcile it. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You did what you had to do to save yourself and Vera.”
“But still…”
“I know.” She pats me on the shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“What the hell went wrong with Agent Carter?”
“I don’t know. Ed’s beside himself. He trusted Carter. The cops are still trying to sort it out with the Feds. Only Carter and the special agent in charge knew about your situation. With Carter dead, it’s up to the SAC to work it out for us. I’m doing my best to try to be in the loop, but no one’s talking to me. This is such a clusterfuck for the marshals and the FBI. They each lost a man, and the FBI doesn’t want to admit that their agent was corrupt and compromised your situation. They’re trying to pin some of it on you. They won’t get to, though. I won’t let them. But you might be in here for a while, until it all gets sorted out.”
“I wish I could see her.” I’m having a hard time focusing on what Shay’s saying. I honestly don’t give a fuck about me, except that as long as I’m in here I can’t be with Vera.
She squeezes my shoulder. “I know you do. Let’s talk to these detectives and work on getting you out of here so you can do that. Are you up for it?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“Let me see if I can’t get them to uncuff you while we’re at it.”
“Thanks.”
She goes out into the hall. I’m trying real hard to hang on and not lose my shit. That would only make my situation worse. I can’t believe I’m in cuffs, sitting in a police station, being accused of murder. Again. I’m not at all comforted by the fact that I actually did the crime this time. I’m not proud of what I did. I’m fucking torn up. I can’t stop replaying what happened, wondering if I could’ve done something different. If I should’ve been on the other side of the door instead of Vera. Then I could’ve been the one to take the bullet instead of her. Then what? I would’ve been down and Javier could’ve taken or killed Vera. I keep running the what-ifs through my head, trying to figure out how it could’ve gone down differently, but I don’t see how.
Damn, Vera. Why did she have to jump in front of me?
She thinks she loves me.
If taking a bullet for someone isn’t love, I don’t know what is.
Chapter 38
Vera
I’m alive.
Barely.
At least it feels that way.
Everything fucking hurts.
I try to open my eyes, but I’m too damn tired.
—
Someone’s next to my bed, holding my hand. I can’t turn my head to see who it is. I still can’t open my eyes. Maybe I’m not alive. Maybe this is death. I want to move, but I can’t manage to make the effort. I want to ask whoever it is about Beau, because I know it’s not him with me. Where is he? The last thing I remember is his face next to mine, so I know he’s okay. Or he was.
Goddamn, I’m tired.