6. Olive

6

OLIVE

T he cold bites into my fingers as I hold the camcorder up as inconspicuously as I can while shielding myself behind a pillar under the overpass. I have to fight to keep my hand still, but I manage. Nothing will get in my way of catching what’s going on thirty feet from me.

Creeper’s gravelly voice is like a nail hammering into my ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, which means it probably isn’t being picked up on video either, but the bag he takes from the Irish man is unmistakable. Thanks to an infrared attachment, so is the identity of each man, despite it being nighttime.

Creeper meets here with someone just like this every other Wednesday night, and even if this tape isn’t enough, the information will be. This bastard is going down.

My hand clutches the camcorder tighter, thinking about what might’ve happened the other night, how I got there, how much worse it could’ve been. If I was a bad person, I’d get rid of him another way. I’d kill him instead of sending him to prison.

Images so dark I’d never form words to describe them flick through my mind, causing the world around me to fade. It isn’t until the sound of my feet shuffling on the gravel brings me back to the present.

I blink and look down at the camcorder to see no one there.

Squinting, I move it around, searching for the car, for Creeper, for the Irish guy, for anyone.

Nothing. They’re gone.

Did I really lose myself for that long?

How…? How did I not hear them leave?

Shaking my head, I slap the recorder closed and scan the area before sticking my practically numb hands in my pockets and creeping out from under the overpass.

I’m careful to take a path without streetlights illuminating it for several blocks, just in case Creeper is somehow still around. I hate that I didn’t see either of them leave.

My apartment is sixteen blocks away, and I walked all the way here, but I don’t plan on going home yet. I’m headed for the police station where I’m going to ditch the recorder on the hood of one of their cruisers along with a note.

I’d shut my phone off to avoid the chance of it giving me away during the exchange, so now I power it back on, not surprised when I see no missed calls, but disappointed nonetheless. I don’t know what I expect from my father. I went to the appointment he set, switched medications, and am now prepared to deal with the side effects, which so far appear to be weird dizzy spells and stomach cramps. What do I want for that, a good job ? An I’m proud of you ? Pathetic.

I slide my phone into my back pocket then cross my arms over my chest as I make my way to the police station. It’s even farther away than my apartment, so I consider hitchhiking there, but only a handful of cars pass in a ten-minute period.

I prepare to turn to move on to a busy street when headlights shine behind me. Looking back over my shoulder, my hand twitches, ready to lift to ask for a ride, but something stops me. The car crawls along the vacant road while the hairs raise on the back of my neck.

Something feels off.

I turn forward and shove my hands in my hoodie pocket, feeling the camcorder as I walk faster on the sidewalk.

I count to five, waiting for the car to pass, but it doesn’t. It won’t.

They found me.

They know .

How?

I look over my shoulder at the car and consider throwing the camcorder at it, but that must be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. It’s only an admission of guilt. They’d never let me go.

Facing forward, I speed walk, quick puffs of air fogging around me as I dart my eyes around. Any second, I expect the car to pull up beside me, the back door to open and a man in a black ski mask to pull me inside. Or maybe they won’t even bother with the ski mask because I’ll be dead before the night’s over.

A whine whistles through my teeth as I break out in a run, no longer able to help myself. The car roars behind me, and I look over my shoulder in a panic at it before whipping my head in time to spot a person in all black appearing around the corner up ahead. He’s facing away from me, waiting for the crosswalk.

“Help!” I yell for him, praying the criminals won’t kill me in front of a witness. “Please, help me!”

When he turns, I catch Alik’s familiar features illuminated by the stoplight. His hands are tucked casually in the pockets of his jacket, and his expression is as neutral as if I’d just asked him for a piece of gum.

Alik?

Alik!

“Alik,” I cry, stumbling to a stop when I reach him. I cling myself to his back to use him as a shield. It’s selfish, I know. I’m not proud of it. But for now it works because the car peels through a green light and drives away.

“Oh, thank God.” A tremble runs over my arms, but I don’t let relief overtake me. They’re gone for now, but they’ll be back. And thanks to Creeper, they know who I am and where I live.

What if Dad was right? What if this was a terrible idea?

Fuck!

“Olive?” Alik pries me off his back and pulls me around to face him. “What’s going on?”

I lift a shaky finger in the direction the car went. “I’m in trouble. Someone… Some people… I…”

How do I explain this to him?

I stare at his blank expression. He doesn’t even appear concerned for my safety. I probably just look insane to him.

I shake my head. “I just have to get out of here.”

Biting my lip, I turn the corner Alik came from, prepared to hide out in a parking garage or something until the police come, but when Alik takes my hand, I whirl toward him.

I almost yank my hand away. Not because his grip hurts or he’s in any way rough, but because the electricity it excites in my body is startling.

My life is in danger. Any minute that car could come back, a gun could point out the window, and bullets could spray both our bodies, so it is absolutely ridiculous for me to think about anything else right now.

But for the briefest seconds while his hand holds mine, it’s all I can think about. How strong it feels. How sure of himself he looks. If he told me we should stand in this spot, out in the open until the car comes back, I’d be stupid enough to listen as long as he was touching me with that hand.

“Come on.” He pulls away from me to take a step in the direction I came, then nods down the street. “I know a shortcut.”

A shortcut?

When he starts that way, I don’t question him. I follow close behind, having to jog to keep up, and looking over my shoulder for the car. He leads me into an alleyway, walking all the way down until it breaks into a T where he pauses to look back at the road. I do the same.

Are we hiding here?

“Who was that?” he asks, bringing my eyes back to him. In the dark, his red eye seems to glow, and if he were an animal hiding in the bushes, he’d be terrifying. He is terrifying. Horribly terrifying. And electrifying.

“I can’t tell you,” I whisper, although no one is around. I think I’m just too afraid to say any of this out loud. “It would be dangerous for you if I did.”

He tips his head toward the road. “They just saw me with you. It’s more dangerous for me not to know now, don’t you think?”

Is it?

Would they… Would they hurt him just for being seen with me?

“Oh no…” My lips part, and I put a hand over my mouth. “Alik, I’m so sorry.”

“Who’s following you?” His eyes roam my face. “Does someone want to hurt you?”

He says it with no emotion, no concern, but instead of it stinging, it makes me shudder. Something feels off again.

“I think so.”

“ Who ?”

The alley feels uncomfortably silent, as if no one is around for miles, which can’t be true. When I look around, I see the alley only forks off to two different main roads, one being the one I was about to walk down.

Where is this a shortcut to?

“What were you doing over here?” I ask, my eyes drawing back to him. He’s still expressionless. More so than I remember him last. There isn’t an ounce of warmth emanating from him, despite him saving my life. Despite me being so scared.

I’m weird. I accept that. But the way he’s acting would never be considered normal.

“Working,” he says.

“Working?”

He nods.

“What kind of work?”

His eyes narrow. “The private kind. Are you going to answer my question or not?”

I shrink back, my feet slowly shuffling. Alik’s eyes lower as he notices until my back hits a brick wall, then he meets my gaze. There’s a threat in his eyes, on his face, in his voice, contained in his entire aura that’s new to me.

The hairs on the back of my neck are straight up again, but Alik won’t be rescuing me this time. He’s the cause for the alarm.

Something’s wrong.

Something’s really wrong.

Him being here isn’t a coincidence.

He didn’t bring me into this dark, secluded alley to help me.

My eyes scan the alley, seeking help I know won’t be there, and when Alik moves toward me, I open my mouth to scream.

He slaps a hand over my mouth, pressing himself against me just before air pushes from my lungs.

“That isn’t a good idea, Olive.”

My whimpers are smothered by his palm, and I struggle to take in panicked breaths through my nose. His hand doesn’t feel electric this time. It feels deadly. Like all it would take is the pinch of my nose to shut down everything that runs my existence.

“Shhh,” he coos, his hot breath warming my ear. “It’s all right. Don’t panic.”

He smooths a hand over my head and croons in my ear some more, his icy demeanor seeming to melt. My eyes close as I tremble with fear.

He isn’t here by accident.

He isn’t here by accident.

He isn’t here by accident.

Which means… He must be with the Irish.

I cry harder at this realization, and he shushes me again, peppering kisses over my temple that should do nothing to calm me but manage to quiet my whimpers anyway.

Is that why he moved in next door to me? They wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I never talked about what I knew?

My father was right. I signed my death warrant. They’ve been watching me this entire time.

The camcorder weighs down my pocket, knocking against my hips with each of my sways. If he leaves my body in this alley, maybe the police will see it. All showing it to him will do is give him the opportunity to destroy it. He’ll never spare me.

But I’m weak, so I try to use it anyway.

I go to reach for it, but Alik takes both my wrists and pins them on the brick above my head.

I whine through his palm and point my eyes down, my hips jutting toward him so he’ll feel the bulky piece of equipment.

He glances down and lets go of my wrists to pat my hoodie pocket. His head tilts as he pulls the camcorder out and holds it up to study it.

I try to move my head to push his palm away, but he doesn’t budge for several seconds. Watching me carefully, he removes his palm and hovers it inches from my face like he’s ready to slap it over my mouth if I scream.

“You can have it,” I say, breathing heavily. I glance between his palm and his curious eyes while pressing my back against the wall. “Please, take it and let me go. It’s the only piece of evidence I have. I swear to God.”

He flips open the display and plays the one and only recording on the memory card. No sound comes through, but I can tell he’s watching it by the way his eyes squint through the hair that hangs in front of them. His lips purse like he’s deep in concentration.

He didn’t know about it.

My heart racing, I look down the alley and consider making a break for it, but Alik’s eyes nail me to the brick before I get the chance to budge.

“What is this?”

He glances between me and the screen. It’s one thing not to know that I took the video. It’s another for him to not know what it’s of.

“You don’t know?”

He glares at me. “It’s an exchange, but what’s it for, and who is it of?”

I consider questioning him further, stalling his questions, but his glare sobers my curiosity.

“It’s my ex-dealer, Creeper, getting his supply under the overpass.”

“From whom?”

“How do you not know? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Don’t worry about why I’m here.”

“I just?—”

“ Olive .” He doesn’t raise his voice. Actually, he lowers it, but it might as well be an ice pick to my throat with the way it freezes me.

“From an Irish mobster,” I whisper, my fingertips burning as they rub against the brick.

His eyes light up with interest. “And what were you planning on doing with this video?”

I don’t hesitate again. “I was going to leave it anonymously at the police station. I swear, I…” my voice quakes, “I only wanted to get back at Creeper. I have no interest in hurting the Irish, and if you let me go, I will never go near any of you ever again. I swear to you. Please…” I choke on the word, closing my eyes when my lip quivers.

Alik’s scent envelops me when he closes the distance between us, casting a sinister shadow over me that makes my knees quake. I can’t summon the courage to look at him.

When he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, a rush of cold air whistles past my teeth, and after his fingers glide up my fragile neck to raise my chin, I finally open my eyes.

“I know it seems like I came here to hurt you,” Alik says, his face expressionless. “I showed up out of the blue, right when you needed me, and since then I’ve been acting strange… It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I wasn’t here by accident.”

I try to shrink away from his touch, but he holds my chin still.

“But I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. And I need you to trust me because what I’m about to say makes me very vulnerable to you. So I need to trust you too. Am I able to do that?”

I barely manage a nod.

“Good,” he drawls, letting go of my chin to finger a lock of my hair. It feels so impossibly intimate, and I don’t know how he justifies it. Of all the fantasies I’ve had of him, this scenario never came close to being one of them.

He holds up the recorder. “I want you to take this to the police station, like you planned, but do not turn it in anonymously. I want you to give a written testimony of every single thing you know about the Irish’s operation.”

My eyes widen. “What?”

“You need me to repeat myself?”

“No, I…” I shake my head. “They’ll kill me. Aren’t you one of them?”

“Do I look Irish to you?”

I open my mouth, but instead of responding, I look over him, as if I don’t have every part of him memorized. No, he doesn’t look Irish. But I’ve been around long enough to know you don’t need to be Irish to be affiliated.

Still… Obviously, he’s with someone else.

“Then who are you? I don’t understand.”

Alik looks me up and down, heating my skin while making me want to run away at the same time. I don’t understand what his looks mean, or his words or his actions for that matter. I don’t understand him at all.

“Right now, I’m your best friend.”

“When they find out it was me, I am dead. ” My voice sounds higher than before. Less afraid. More amazed at his ignorance.

He shakes his head. “You’re the DEA princess. The Irish don’t have the balls to touch you over something this small.”

“Then why?—”

“The Irish are not the people you need to be worried about,” Alik interrupts, his voice lowering like he’s about to tell a campfire story.

I hug my cramping stomach and wait for him to go on.

He sighs. “Look, the other night, in a roundabout way, you asked if I was a criminal. The answer is yes, I am. Which means I hear a lot of talk in my world, and word has been spreading that your father has it out for some dangerous people. Those people wouldn’t think twice about hurting you just to get to your father, so today when I heard your name come up… I decided to keep an eye on you. So that’s why I’m here, and that’s why I want you to follow through with what you already had planned.” He gently takes my hand and places the recorder in my palm, closing my fingers over it in a way that’s almost a caress.

He’s been watching me?

He cares about me?

He cares about me.

“What does me narcing on the Irish do for the other people who hate my dad?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this,” he squeezes my hand over the recorder, “saves your life.”

I don’t say anything else, don’t ask any more questions. His hand on mine starts to spark, and his presence morphs from threatening to protective. Did I imagine the danger emanating from him?

No, I don’t think so. Alik has a neon sign above his head that reads ‘stay away.’

“Promise me you’ll do what I say,” he whispers in a hypnotic tone that would draw me in if his eyes hadn’t already done the job. He reminds me of a cobra swaying, pulling me in, holding my gaze just so he can sink his venomous teeth into my flesh.

And like the cobra to its prey, Alik efficiently does his job because I nod, speechless as he stares at my lips. Despite all the red flags, I do the most foolish thing possible… I trust him.

“I promise,” I whisper.

He rewards me with a smile before planting a slow, electric kiss to my forehead and pushing away from me.

I’m struck with my eyes closed for a moment, eventually finding it in myself to ask one last question. The only question I truly need the answer to. “Why are you helping me?”

He pauses but doesn’t even turn around. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

And then he’s gone, and I’m flattening my back against the wall, noting how sweaty my palms are despite the nearly freezing temperature.

I open the display screen back up to see the video, as if he would’ve deleted it, then hit play. Creeper nods at the man, the exchange already taking place.

I’m just about to shut the display when a voice freezes my veins over, making my blood run cold.

“He has to die.”

It’s confident. Certain . Feminine.

Mine .

“It’s the only way.”

My hand starts to shake, and when I hear my voice begin again, I slam the display shut so I don’t have to hear any more.

It was when I was lost in my head. When they left, and I didn’t hear it.

I wasn’t distracted. I was blacked out.

“No,” I cry, putting the camera away while stomping toward the road, frustrated tears filling my eyes.

It should be easy enough to cut out that part of the video. That isn’t the problem.

The problem is my new medication isn’t working.