“Annie,” I warn.
“Just tell me.” she pleads. “I’m the weak link here, will you kill me if this doesn’t work?”
“Annie,” I start, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” I turn and start jogging again.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she picks up her pace and begins following me, anyway.
I lead us through the tree cover landscape. She breathes heavily behind me but she doesn’t stop or complain, just follows.
Her question plays on a loop through my head.
Will I kill her?
The trail is beautiful, but I still can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading me to my death.
I follow him anyway. Maybe that’s dumb, but I don’t see another option.
I wonder if he would let me buy my freedom? But then I would have to get fifty grand from someone else.
“Keep up,” he calls. He’s several paces ahead of me now.
He runs effortlessly, his breathing is even, and he can hold a conversation. It doesn’t help that he looks too good in a pair of snug running shorts and a white shirt. His t-shirt only showcases a small damp patch around the v of his back.
My shirt on the other hand is drenched in sweat and clinging to my body. I’m convinced there's a fire in my lungs, just burning away my insides. I hate running, but I don’t mind watching Gio run.
My body betrays me when I look at Gio. Logically, I hate him. He put me in this situation and beat the shit out of my brother. Still, when he’s within eyesight, I can’t help but be attracted to him, and if he gets close enough to me I’m sucked into his vibrational frequency.
He starts to slow, and I can see a break in the trees leading to the parking lot ahead. I’m relieved because I might pass out if I have to run a second longer, I’m hot and absolutely miserable.
“Gio.” He announces into the ringing cell phone. His strides slow to a walk and his steps crunch along the gravel as he heads to the Porsche.
I’m barely out of the woods when I stop to lean onto my knees and catch my breath. My bun is now loose and strands of hair are falling haphazardly and sticking to my neck and face. I’m dripping with sweat, this might be the worst workout ever.
“Arms up.” He shouts at me without stopping his phone conversation.
Begrudgingly I push up to stand and raise my arms. I know he’s right, but I still don’t want to listen to him. I’d rather just lay down on the gravel than stand at all, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be pissed if I crawl on the ground like a child.
“What?” he shouts into the phone. “Who shot him?”
My breath hitches and I stumbled on my way to the car. I know he’s a dangerous man, still, the idea of someone he knows being shot doesn’t sit well with me. Luckily we’re the only ones in the parking lot to hear his conversation.
He waves a hand for me to move to the car. My legs ache as I force them forward.
“Okay.” He huffs sitting in the driver's seat. “I want the funeral covered. Give ten large to his wife, she needs to be taken care of.” I watch him as he listens to the person on the other end of the phone talk. “Yeah, and this doesn’t stand. You hear me? I need to know who acted.” Without waiting for a response he jabs the end call button with his finger.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He’s seething with anger, hands gripped around the steering wheel, eyes locked out the windshield. He whips his head to face me at the sound of my voice. “Yeah,” he scrubs a hand down his face, his anger slowly subsiding. “Just dealing with something.”
“Someone got hurt?” I question.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Killed.”
“Oh.” my heart clenches. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, not your fault Annie.” He turns his attention from me to start the car, putting it in reverse.
“I know, just, that sucks.”
His eyes find me again, studying me. I don’t think he expects sympathy from considering the reason we’re even here together. He looks raw, the hard layers of him fading away.
“I’m sorry that happened.” I whisper. “You’re sweet to take care of his family.”
He pulls the car out of the spot, navigating it back on the road.
“Thank you.” he finally responds.
Maybe, just maybe there's more to Gio DelGado.
He drops me off at my apartment complex with the parting words of “run more”. He doesn’t walk me up to the door, just speeds away from me. He was frustrated the entire ride, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel as if he was trying to suffocate it. I wanted to know what happened, the question was on the tip of my tongue the entire ride. He probably wouldn’t have answered it even if I did ask.
I’m the enemy, I don’t get that kind of inside knowledge.
I know that someone close to him just died, and honestly, I’m not even sure what happened, but his sudden departure makes me feel used and unwanted.
I shake the feeling and head for the stairs. I’m sweaty, exhausted, and desperately in need of a shower.
As soon as I hit the second-floor landing, I see my brother. He’s slumped against my door waiting for me.
I’m not naïve here, I know Johnny’s not reliable and that he wasn’t staying as clean as he told me he was. Now, I wonder if the apartment and job in Boston were even real, or if he was putting up a facade to trick me.
Still,
