Confessions Of An Old Lady Page 15

  “You nervous?” I asked, pointing out the obvious.

  “Me? Nah. I don’t get nervous.” He smirked.

  I leaned up on one elbow, looking him dead in the face. “Come on, Sonny. It’s me you’re talking to. You don’t have to play tough with me. I know you’re worried about your dad and the guys. It’s okay to be afraid.” I caressed his stubbly cheek with my right hand then let it find its way to the back of his neck, where my fingers became intertwined in his wavy brown hair.

  “I’m not afraid. I’m just…concerned.” Somehow I guess he felt that sounded more masculine and brave, so I went with it and didn’t push any further. “Dad’s really smart and they’re all tough as old boots, but you just never know…”

  “I’m sure everything will turn out just fine,” I tried to reassure him.

  “No, you’re not. You’re so worried about what’s going to happen that you asked me to stay here with you tonight. We even lied to Dad and told him he’s going to be a grandfather, so he’d let me stay here.”

  I couldn’t tell if there was resentment, anger, or both in his voice, so I wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended. I just looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

  “It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I’m perfectly happy to stay here with you. It makes sense. I’m just saying, even you know how potentially dangerous tonight could be.” Then he paused and looked down at his feet. “I’m worried about them.”

  “Me too,” I replied.

  I looked at my watch. Seven o’clock. Little did Sonny know I was doubly worried. Not only was I worried about what might happen to Leroy and the fellas, but I had the added stress of knowing that, if all went “well,” the DEA would be raiding this little meeting in less than five hours. I had the extra worry of what was going to happen once Renley and his men stormed the old factory and arrested most, if not all, of Sonny’s family and friends. Sonny would be stunned, to say the least. But would he put two and two together? Would he turn to me for comfort or would it even cross his mind that I wasn’t really Trish Sanders…that I was Agent Olivia Rockford. Surely not. No, definitely not. So, I determined I had less than five hours to practice, in my mind, my holy-shit-I-am-in-complete-and-utter-shock reaction. My stomach was doing looptie-loos.

  I grabbed the remote and began flipping through the channels, trying to find something to pass the time and distract us from our worry. Sonny for his father and friends and I for my life. The first thing I came across was the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Man, that Ne Ne is a hoot, but after only ten seconds of listening to her wax philosophical about Phaedra’s ba-donka-donk, Sonny looked down at me and shook his head ever so slightly. Next was a syndicated re-run of Friends. It was the Thanksgiving episode, where Joey gets a turkey stuck on his head. This time, Sonny didn’t object right away. He even chuckled when Phoebe weighed in her two cents in her regular dimwitted style. But I’d seen that episode more than a few times, so I changed the channel again. Finally, we settled on a documentary on the Discovery Channel about people trying to save whales and we watched it until we both fell asleep where we were on the couch.

  Then it happened.

  The phone rang.

  It was Sonny’s cell. I could tell by the ringtone, which was the sound of a motorcycle engine revving. It woke me up first and I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock above the fireplace, which read 12:32 a.m. For some weird reason, maybe because I had just woken up, the significance of that time didn’t exactly register with me, so I elbowed Sonny in the chest gently to wake him up. He startled awake, and after a couple of seconds of looking around in confusion, understanding registered on his face. When I told him his phone was ringing, I sat up so he could reach his phone from his left blue jeans pocket.

  He touched the button on the screen, held the phone to his ear, and managed a grumbly “hullo?” into the speaker. Then my whole life changed irrevocably forever.

  I sat up straight, realizing immediately what this phone call was going to be about. Instantly, my entire body started to tremble slightly. I looked right at Sonny, whose face was not yet registering any concern. In fact, he looked confused if anything.

  “What? Slow down, Jimmy. Slow down and start over from the beginning.”

  The urge to puke started to creep from my stomach up into my throat. I could taste the bile as I choked it back. This was the phone call I had known was coming, but had dreaded nonetheless. I realized I needed to pretend to be as curious and concerned as he was, so I put my hand on his back and said, “Sonny? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  He held up a finger as if to say hang on just a second. I shrank back into the couch and waited for the inevitable.

  “What do you mean by the law, Jimmy? Who’s the law? Was it the Sheriff’s Department? Because I know Sheriff Brady’s been on our asses lately and—”

  It was apparent that Jimmy cut Sonny off abruptly. Sonny’s face seemed to drain of color right before my very eyes at whatever Jimmy said.

  Then dead silence. Sonny literally dropped his phone and did some very impressive acrobatic dancing to catch it before it struck the hardwood floor, which would have no doubt sent the phone flying in many different pieces.

  “Sonny? What is it? What’s happening? Talk to me!”

  Sonny put the phone back up against his cheek and seemed to have instantly regained his composure just long enough to give Jimmy directions on what to do next.

  “Jimmy…listen to me and listen to me very closely. I want you to find someplace safe and I want you to go there now! Keep your phone on you and don’t let the battery die down. Whatever you do, do not go back to the shop or to The Hole. Go to your mom’s house…or better yet, go to an aunt or an uncle or a cousin. Show no signs of distress and draw no attention to yourself. Go find a place and hideout until I call you with more instructions.”

  I assumed Jimmy understood Sonny’s instructions, because Sonny said, “Good. Go now!”

  Sonny brought the phone down from his ear and looked down at its now-black screen as if the answers to whatever questions he had were going to magically appear there.

  I approached him cautiously. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be and I had to play-act like I had no idea what had just happened. With one arm extended in front of me, reaching out toward Sonny’s broad shoulder, I gingerly took three steps toward him until my hand found the spot it was looking for. But when my hand had just barely touched his shoulder, he jumped—and I am not exaggerating—two feet in the air and halfway across the living room.

  I stood there at a complete loss for words. I knew not what to say, because as far as he knew, I still had no idea what Jimmy had just told him. “Sonny, it’s okay. What happened? What did Jimmy say?”

  Nothing. No response. He just stood there staring at me as if he was seeing me for the very first time, although his eyes looked hollow and lost. They were not the tender, loving eyes to which I had become accustomed over the past several months. They were dark and there was nothing behind them except possibly sheer panic.

  “Sonny!” I repeated myself. “What did Jimmy say?” I knew full well what Jimmy had told him. Well, mostly. I knew that Jimmy had somehow managed to escape the factory and elude the DEA and had called Sonny to tell him what had happened. What I didn’t know were the details. Was anyone shot? Dead? Was it a shootout like at the OK Corral? Or did the Monsters and the Lords lie down and peacefully surrender? Not likely.

  Finally, Sonny spoke. His hands ran through his thick brown waves of hair, sweat beaded up on his forehead.

  Sonny began to mumble incoherently, but because of my knowledge of what had gone down, I was able to pick up on a few words here and there. “The feds…don’t know if it’s DEA, FBI, or ATF…Jimmy didn’t stick around long enough to look…but they were definitely feds…they…it was…how did they…Harry’s dead…Weasel’s dead…and Dad…the feds…they…they raided the factory.”

  “What?” I didn’t have to fake the shocked response. I t
ruly was shaken and caught off-guard. Harry was dead? And Weasel? I didn’t know him all that well, but Harry had been super-nice to me every time I was around him. I thought about his poor wife, Connie, and my heart sank, full of guilt. I had known it was a possibility that someone may wind up being shot in the raid, might even wind up being killed, but I guess it was more of a probability than I had ever imagined.

  “The feds? How does he know it was the feds? Could it have been another gang? I mean, I’m sure it all happened so fast. And you said he slipped out of there immediately.”

  He stood there, boots firmly planted about two feet apart, arms dropped down to his side now. He looked like he might be in shock. Like, actual, physical shock.

  “He saw badges and uniforms. All black. It was a tactical team. Like a SWAT team. A raid. Just before he slipped out the side door, he heard them shouting for everyone to get down on the ground and put their hands on their heads, or something like that. No, it was definitely the feds. But how…?”

  He seemed to ponder this very seriously. I could almost see the wheels spinning inside his head.

  Oh, no. I thought. He’s putting it together. He’s figured me out. But then I calmed myself, took a deep breath, and told myself he was just in shock about the raid and there was no way he could connect me to it and pin me as a federal agent.

  Then, and I’ll never forget this as long as I live, the look in his eyes changed ever so slowly. From one of bafflement and astonishment to one of understanding and determination. His eyes looked straight through me, seemingly into my soul, and in that instant I knew he knew.

  As if in slow motion, Sonny reached behind his back, retrieved the revolver he had stashed back inside the waistline of his pants, took two very large and very fast steps toward me, and before I knew it, he had me pinned against the wall, the nose of the gun pressed firmly into my temple.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he growled.

  Chapter 24

  I tried to remind him that I was his girlfriend and that he knew exactly who I was, even though I knew the jig was up. But if I admitted who I really was, that I was a DEA agent who was responsible for what had just happened to his friends and his father tonight, I was pretty certain he’d forget whatever feelings he’d developed for me and drop me where I stood.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he repeated through gritted teeth, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against my forehead.

  Tears began to stream down my face, my bottom lip was quivering and my knees felt like they would give out any second.

  I had two choices in that instant and for the life of me, I couldn’t make a decision as quickly as I should have. I could have tried to keep up the ruse and convince him I really was Trish Sanders. In that case, there was only the slightest of chances that he would eventually believe, me, drop his gun, and hold me in his arms again, apologizing profusely for doubting me. Most likely, though, he would never again believe me and he would shoot me right between the eyes.

  The other option was to fess up…tell him I was really a federal agent and that I’d been playing him for months, lying to him, in order to use information I gleaned from our whirlwind romance to bring him and his club down. In that case, there was a small possibility that he would appreciate my honesty and let me live. I mean miniscule. But most likely I would still wind up dead.

  Choices. Choices.

  I rolled the metaphorical dice.

  “Please, Sonny…listen to me. I’ll tell you the truth. Just…put down the gun. Please. Don’t kill me.”

  I had never begged for my life before. It was more terrifying than I had imagined. Although, despite all of the possible scenarios I had played out in my head as to how this whole thing was going to end, I had never even once considered this a possibility. I never once imagined that he’d figure out who I was until after I was pulled back to Chicago, nor that I’d have the cold barrel of a Smith & Wesson revolver pushing into my skull.

  He didn’t answer. He just looked deep into my eyes, seemingly searching for answers to questions he never dreamed he’d have about me. His eyes seemed to bore holes into mine. I could almost literally feel the anger emanating from him and drilling right through to my soul.

  “Please. Let me explain. Just…don’t kill me. Please. Just lower the gun so we can talk.”

  For a split second, I was sure he was going to pull the trigger and blow my brains out all over the already hideous wallpaper. Amazingly, however, I heard the click of the hammer being pushed back where he had previously had it cocked. The pressure from the gun barrel lessened slowly until finally, I saw him pull the gun back and point it toward the ceiling instead of my head.

  “Talk. Now.”

  I felt like I was going to faint from the relief and I was glad for it, no matter how temporary. I slid down the wall until I was squatted with my knees pulled tight to my chest. I wiped the torrent of tears that had covered my cheeks, as well as the snot that was now running down my nose and over my top lip.

  Sonny stood hovering over me, the gun now resting at his side, but I noticed he never removed his finger from the trigger.

  I drew in a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.

  “Okay. Before I explain, I want you to know that I love you. That is as true as true can be. Nothing will ever change that for me. Nothing. My love for you was not, is not a lie.”

  I paused and looked up at him. I don’t know what I had expected…maybe for him to say he loved me too and sweep me up into his arms, forgetting that I had lied to him and set him up? I can be such a romantic fool sometimes.

  When I realized what an idiot I was and that this was still happening, I began again, slowly. “Sonny…please sit down. What I have to tell you is going to be hard to take, but I want you to listen to me and give me a chance to explain.”

  “I’ll stand, thank you.” Still, nothing but contempt in his eyes. The love I had seen in those eyes so many times over the past few months had completely vanished. Maybe it never really existed at all and I had been fooling myself all along.

  “Who. Are. You?” he asked slowly but sternly. It sounded more like a statement than a question. I remember thinking what a good question it was, though. Did I really even know the answer? No. If I was being totally honest with myself, I really didn’t.

  “I’m an agent with the Drug Enforcement Agency.” There. I said it. I closed my eyes, waiting for him to put the gun back up to my forehead and pull the trigger, but after several seconds passed without the feeling of the barrel against my blood-drained skin, I opened them again.

  I had assumed I’d see a look of shock and horror on his face, but what I saw instead scared me even more. I saw nothing at all. He looked at me as if to say “I already knew that, you dumb bitch.” Had he just figured it out when Jimmy called or had he possibly suspected me all along?

  It was obvious he wanted more from me, so I continued.

  “I haven’t been an agent very long. I joined the DEA about two years ago. Earlier this year…I…I was given an assignment…”

  Sonny backed away from me slowly, understanding beginning to register on his face. “What assignment?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure how to explain the rest of the story in a way that would satisfy his curiosity, yet lessen the odds that he would shoot me as soon as the words came out of my mouth.

  “What fucking assignment?” he said, much louder this time.

  “I was assigned to…to…”

  “Spit it out! Trish, or whatever the fuck your name is! Speak or I swear to God I will put a bullet between your eyes right now!”

  Would he? Of course he would. Fifteen minutes ago, he wouldn’t even have considered it. In fact, he might well have taken a bullet for me then. But now? Now he was ready to kill me without thinking twice. But I had no idea how to tell this story in a way that would convince him he shouldn’t shoot me and dump my body in a deep well somewhere.

  “I was assigned to get to know you, and
…”

  “And…”

  “And the DEA has been investigating the Lords of Chaos for a while now and I was supposed to get to know you and…and get as much information as I could from you about your drug and weapons operations.”

  He took a stunned step backward. Then another. He was nearly stumbling backward over his own two feet, but quickly regained his balance. He wiped his brow with the hand that held the gun.

  “Let me get this straight,” he began. “You are a DEA agent? You have been lying to me…for three fucking months…about who you are and what you wanted from me? And what, you report back to your boss man, or whatever, with everything you found out about my club?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “But nothing, Trish! What defense can you possibly come up with? You’re a fuckin’ narc!” He sat down on the couch finally and put his head between his hands, his elbows on his knees, the gun still held tightly in his right hand. “Jesus Christ, Trish!” Then he looked up from his hands as if something had just occurred to him. “Wait…Trish probably isn’t even your real name, is it?”

  “No,” I said, despite what that answer might cost me.

  “What the fuck is it?”

  “It’s…it’s…Olivia,” I admitted.

  “Olivia…what?”

  “Rockford. I’m Agent Olivia Rockford.” I braced for whatever was coming next, but I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to leave that old house alive, so there was no point in holding back information any more.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said again. “So, what exactly did you tell your superiors, or whatever the fuck they are?”

  I decided there was no reason to delay the inevitable any longer. I had to just tell him the whole story, get it over with, and pray to God that he at least made it quick and painless. My death was inevitable at that point. The only thing I could hope for was that Sonny still cared about me enough not to torture me and kill me slowly.