19. Tell

19

TELL

B acktrack for a sec.

To that lab in that building with that doctor and that syringe.

The lab stinks. The lab coat stinks.

I stink.

Rather, the doctor does.

Oh, how Doctor Oxy has fallen.

Not the real guy. I paid him a hefty sum to disappear for good. Last I heard, he checked into rehab.

Wanted to get clean so he could see his kids again.

All the best, Doc. Goodspeed and all that bullshit.

Now where was I…

Oh, yeah.

About to stick a long ass needle into my girlfriend's arm.

Subduing the protests from my conscience telling me to break her out, jam this needle into Marco Vice's eyeball, and make a dash for the door and never look back.

The two heavies in the way aside, I realize it would also compromise a hefty amount of planning.

Gavin taking his spot as a liaison for our side in her ranks. Sing coming back with us as a show of good faith.

Can't say Ora was too pleased about that.

I mean the ‘being observed by the enemy'. She and Alaya wouldn't leave the poor guy alone in the worst way outside of that.

And by the worst way, mostly his butt.

Guy's fucking hot, though. No lie.

In the time it takes me to draw back the plunger, filling the syringe with the substance in the bottle, the past few days pass through my head again. It's all going to work.

It has to.

"So, what happens if Marco shows up all of a sudden?" Ora posits, kicking her feet off the table and leaning forward. She's taken to bouncing a rubber ball all the time. I love that girl to death, but it's. Fucking. Annoying.

"We're ready with a solid defense." Alaya shrugs.

"She means about Hellena. She's in the fucking lion's den." Gavin's voice sounds quiet over the phone, like he is worried about being overheard.

"So are you," I point out.

"With one of theirs as collateral and an escape plan if things get hot."

"Ooh, things are getting hot?" Ora smirks.

"Spicy or blisters?" Alaya. Always with the bad jokes.

"Definitely spicy, probably third-degree burns if we get caught." Did he just snort laugh?

"You asshole," I grumble, leaning close to the speaker.

"Hers, actually."

"I need to go undercover," I announce suddenly.

"The hell you do. This place is locked down tight. Trying to figure out a way to get out, just the two of us, for a little recon on the old place. Look, I gotta go. I'll be in touch."

The line clicks off, and all I can think about is Hellena. And Gavin. Without me.

Huge surprise.

"Well, that was…" Ora shakes her head.

"Informative." Alaya sniffs.

"A goddamn waste of time."

"Hey, our joint venture against the Ghosts has been pretty helpful so far. Way fewer losses for our scouts. We've destroyed a shit ton of that Devo shit," I argue, taking a lap around the room. This whole camp feels way too small.

"Be that as it may, we still don't have a plan if Marco shows up! Or what his plan is."

"He's already here, actually," a velvety soft voice hums.

"The fuck?!" Ora squeals, flying off her chair. "Dammit Senegal!"

"Fucking ninja," I mumble, flapping out my hands to get rid of the shock tingles.

"Fucking hot, is what it is." Alaya inhales, leaning back in her seat and ogling the man leaning against the wall.

Seriously. I need to learn how he does that.

Did he morph through the wall?

Not to mention the fact that he said words .

The only words I've heard him say since he came with us to spy on us for Hellena or Marco or whatever.

"What do you mean, he's already here?" I ask.

Sing tilts both palms out as if to say, "That's what I said."

"And you know this how?" Ora circles the table.

Flat stare.

All three of us stare right back until he pulls out his phone, frowning like we're the idiots.

And they call me a smartass.

"Remind me to get the number to that thing." Ora wags her eyebrows, giving him a blatant ‘DTF' look.

Then she's right back at the whole tiny-tyrant thing.

"Great. So Don Dong is back in town. I take it Hellena and Gavin don't know about it yet?"

Sing shakes his head.

"Which means your guys at the mansion don't either."

No response.

"Which might mean that he's keeping it hush-hush. Which might mean he has an agenda."

Sing abruptly walks out of the room.

"Plausible deniability. Nice." I snicker, scratching my chin. "Why the fuck is Sing-a-ling helping us?"

"He's not." Alaya's on her feet, and the room gets crowded for all the pacing.

"Care to share?" Ora sidesteps Alaya's track, smacking her on the ass.

"I'm 99% sure this guy is ex-Chao Pho. Thai underground. Likely an ex-hitman."

"I love it when she goes all super-spy-backstory." Ora cups her chin in her hands.

Alaya side-eyes her with a smirk.

"From what I can tell, Sing is in ‘observe only' mode here. Otherwise, his entire job is ‘keep Hellena safe'. Which extends to every facet of that end. A.K.A., keeping her out of trouble, or just keeping an eye on her while she does whatever the hell she wants. With Gavin there, he knows as well as we do that she's ‘safe'."

"So he wants us to tell Hellena that Marco's watching? Make sure she doesn't step out of line?" I posit, leading the train of thought.

"The opposite. With Gavin there, she's more likely to go rogue and do whatever it is she set out to do when she came here without Sing's supervision."

"So he's reverse-psyching her?" Sarcasm. Lots of sarcasm.

"Fuck if I know, string-bean. I just made all of that up." Alaya flaps her lips, dropping back to her seat.

"Speculation, your honor," I quip.

"No, I think you're onto something…" Ora takes the thread. "Why wouldn't Marco just announce himself?"

"Sneak attack?"

"No, but yeah. He's trying to see what's really going on when everyone thinks he's not around to see it."

"It's a trap?"

" Definitely a trap. It's always a trap with that guy!"

"So what you're saying is that we should lure him into one."

"He'll see it coming."

"Unless we have the schematic to his trap!" Alaya jumps to her feet.

"How do we get it?" But I think I know where she's going with it.

"What's Sing's job?" Alaya bobs her eyebrows.

Which is how I got a tip on where to link up with one of Marco's crews roving the city in disguise. Infiltrating a gang of ten hardened criminals isn't the easiest thing, but there's always at least one guy nobody would miss.

Who gets separated from the group with a little assistance.

Swarmed by Holy Ghost drug-addicted psychos.

Then manages to escape with his life, a little worse for wear. That worse for wear works so well to cover up any discrepancies in why I don't look exactly like the guy.

And while those other nine brutes may not be ecstatic to have him, me, back, they welcome the extra hand because we need to secure the Devonde building for Marco. Because he needs a place where he can administer a certain drug he got several doses of recently.

An easy enough job.

Until Sing's text lets me know that Hellena is on the move. She and Gavin are out and about. Which means we need to get Sing back on Hellena duty now in case Vice goes after her.

And I need to get into place to ensure this doesn't go to shit.

Enter Doctor Oxy.

Inserting myself is as easy as making a call on the doctor's old cell phone. Using the pretense of asking after his ‘patient's' wellbeing.

In other words, looking to get paid. Looking to get pills.

What great timing, Vice needs just such a doctor to administer some very sensitive medication.

Gavin drives. I change. He drops me off at the Devonde building.

"How fast does it work?" Marco's eyes glisten in the green and red lights of the abandoned lab.

"From what I've seen so far, it's almost instantaneous," I reply, my voice shaking. "This drug is unbelievable."

"Considering a sample for yourself?" Vice sneers, his disdain for the doctor's addiction plain.

"I already come to your beck and call."

"And cost me a fortune."

I only grin in response, redirecting my attention to the woman on the platform.

"Now stay quite still, Miss Michaels. Too much and you'll start foaming at the mouth and die a horrible, miserable death."

Her struggling stills some, but she's in a panic.

I can't be sure she's even realized it's me this time.

"Fuck you. Do your worst, you sicko."

She lunges forward, trying to bite at my face as I lean down.

Jerking back out of reach, I snatch her face in one hand before one of Vice's massive gorillas can strike her for the move.

"Ah-ah! Don't make me gag you for your own safety." I tilt her face to look at me.

We lock eyes.

Her lip curls.

"Hold her still," I ask, gesturing. "Gently."

"Careful! I don't want her bruised for the wedding," Marco hums, and I nearly break character.

Son of a bitch.

Focus.

Swabbing the skin at her elbow with iodine, I set the needle.

"Kind of you to practice cleanliness before you poison me."

"I'm a doctor, not a butcher." And I slide it in. Drive the plunger.

And pray that she goes along with it.

Fast forward to the wedding, and I'm sitting second row wearing someone else's face.

Wondering whether I accidentally gave Hellena the real drug instead of the placebo. She's stricken. Glass-eyed and robotic.

Except for the way she grips her bouquet that makes me want to murder every fucking bastard in this disgusting venue. Which also happens to be the house I grew up in.

Talk about fuel for therapy.

Next thing I know, she's on stage.

We're ready to move.

Gavin's waiting on my signal.

And Hell grabs Sing's gun, aiming for Marco.

"There she is," Marco snarls, his hand reaching back to stay the guards. All it would take is a split second, one itchy trigger finger on those automatic weapons, and the love of my life would be gone.

So I sit there like a fucking useless chump.

"You always were a fighter, Hellena. But I can see the drug winning. You can barely hold the gun," he mocks, straightening and facing off against her.

Hellena bares her teeth, her body quivering.

What he sees as a battle against Devo, I see as a battle against herself.

"We both know you have it in you. After all, your last fiancé found out the hard way. But you aren't going to kill me, girl. You can't. Now point that gun at your own head and show these people what a good wife you'll be!" His fa?ade cracks, the wild, frantic anger spilling over as he aggressively jabs a finger at her.

The commotion in the crowd stills for a moment, everyone holding their breath, unsure of what to do.

Hellena's hand twitches. Starts to pull back.

The barrel turns.

"Till death do us part, Hellena," Marco shouts, a manic laughter in his words.

"Agreed," she grits out, pointing the gun back toward him and pulling the trigger.