Ending

If there had to be one thing I could never picture my mom doing, it was cooking dinner.

I watched her through the hallway as I set down my backpack next to the door of our apartment, her back turned to me. On her hands were a pair of oven mitts—it would have been a little more fitting to see her in a pair of hard-knuckled tactical gloves, which even further threw off my hardened sense of normalcy.

She's an all ass-kicking ex-navy badass. So when she is home, cooking before I even get back from school, of course I have at least some right to be suspicious.

"Tess, honey, dinner's going to be a little early tonight." Her chipper tone carried out the hallway in a melodic fashion, making my hands clammy.

Never mind the fact that she doesn't usually get out of 'work' until after six, it was her expression when she turned around. How she talked. Her demeanor as a whole—the way she smiled just a little too wide, her hardened gaze, her posture on edge as if she were ready to strike at any moment. I almost wanted to go back out the door.

Abby Bennett, to some, was a cold-and-calculated contractor. She took on 'security' work for a few select, shady companies. What she did for those companies was anyone's guess, but not my own. It's a don't ask, don't tell sort of thing between us, though I'd managed to piece a few grievous findings together. I hadn't talked about those findings since, and didn't ever plan to.

I would much rather have stayed like this, in our little condo in the 'nice' part of the city. We'd only been in Nashville for about six months, but it was the longest we'd stayed in any one place in years. If anything, I wanted to hold onto the notion that this would be our permanent residence… that I could be a normal teenager. One could only hope.

"Why aren't you at work?" Never one for beating around the bush, I tried to cut straight to the chase. I might not have known that much about what she did or how exactly she managed to do it in order to afford such a nice home or even put food on the table every day, but I knew her work schedule. And I knew it was a strict one—of the few times I'd gotten thrown into the mix with my mom (however unwillingly), I'd seen the nastiest side of the 'business'. Mom was as dirty as they came yet she was good at it, to a scary extent.

If she wasn't at work, something was wrong.

As Mom sat down at the already-set table and sipped at her wine, she gave me an easy smile. "Things have been slow lately. Let's just enjoy our meal, hey? Worry about it later."

That was what threw me off, what had me sensing the trouble brewing. I licked my lips and advanced on the table, sitting carefully across from her.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

Soon she would get frustrated with my questions. I had to push it as far as I could.

Sighing, she set down her glass and gave me a leveled stare, her honey eyes locking onto me like that of a hawk's. "Yes, Teresa. Now enjoy the meal."

With nothing else I could do, I was forced to shrug all the anomalies off. To act as if everything was as it should be—just like Mom. I knew better than to press the issue any further. While she wasn't exactly strict, even in her Navy days all those years ago, when life was good and I had a family to be proud of, she hadn't liked talking about things of that sort. Maybe it was just out of habit.

Or maybe it was because we were constantly in danger.

Still, I couldn't appreciate the well-cooked food as much as I otherwise would have. If it were any other night I'd have been ordering a pizza right about then.

I would trade it all to be normal. To not have to move around constantly and be a teenager… to not have to worry about whichever gang leader or weapons dealer my mother might have pissed off on that particular night. My life of no worries had ended long ago, though. And then this began. On more than one occasion I'd been tempted to call it 'hell' but in reality, it made for comfortable living.

Halfway through our meal there was a knock on the door. A rare occurrence in itself. Mom's body jerked toward it, eyes narrowed as her phone simultaneously began to ring. When she turned back toward me, she was in that all-ass-kicking mode again. Fear began to bubble in the pit of my stomach.

"Tessa, listen to me carefully," Remarkably, she waited for me to nod before continuing. Her tone was steely and I saw the fear behind her own eyes. Something was wrong. "Go to your room and lock the door."

"But mom—"

I huffed when she interrupted me. That was a shitty suggestion—no way was I going to go and hide away while my mother fought off whatever trouble was waiting for us outside the door. "I'm serious. No buts. Go to your room, lock the door and no matter what, don't open it."

Normally I would have argued… but normally, we wouldn't have been in this situation at all. And if Mom though it was best, then it was. I was no expert in any of this. The look in my mother's eyes silenced whatever qualms I might have had and in just seconds I was in my room, my door closed and locked behind me.

I paced around my room, trying to think of anything I could do in order to help my Mom. A shady deal had obviously caught up with Abby. I sighed, wondering how she'd gone from serving her country to dirtying it. To this… to fearing for our lives. And all of it was for money.

Yelling resounded from the dining room. I couldn't' make out much, everything just seemed to happen all at once. It was too much to process—but things were screamed about money. Money demands, Great. What the hell had Mom gotten us into?

The last thing I wanted to do was sit around my room and wait for Mom to get hurt. No, I wanted be out there fighting alongside her. After all, I hadn't been trained in mixed martial arts for the past five years in case I needed to defend myself from some bully. I was trained for this.

And of course, my mom wouldn't let me in on the fight.

Something was smashed somewhere near the living room and I let a quiet gasp slip, my hands reaching for my head. Dammit. We were in trouble this time. A disgruntled male voice demanded to know where I was and my breath got caught. I swore and readied myself anyway, climbing up onto my dresser next to the door. I knew that more than likely guns were brought to this particular party. Especially if my mom hadn't been able to put these guys out herself.

The man in question didn't even try the door handle. It was just kicked straight in and if anything, it got my adrenaline pumping even further. A scuffle quickly ensued and before I could think too much on it, I jumped straight onto the man's back as soon as he entered. I immediately recognized him as Dmitry—one of Abby's many creepy friends. One of my arms went around his neck in a choke hold and the other went for his upraised gun. My legs wrapped around his waist from behind and I squeezed as hard as I could.

I couldn't believe that my hold was actually working. Dmitry, a 6'2 blue-eyed beast of a man was anything but easy to take down. Just as he was about to go out, body slightly convulsing, I was ripped from his back and slammed onto the hardwood floor. With the wind thoroughly knocked out of me I laid there for several seconds gasping like a fish, able to hear nothing but my mother's frantic screaming for me.

When I finally came to my senses and was able to see straight, a gun was pointed in my face and Dmitry staggered to his feet, clearly unimpressed.

"You're going to regret that," He snapped, his Russian accent thick.

Seconds later, he hauled me up by my hair and pushed me—stumbling and all, out of the room.

Just the sight of Mom through my blurry vision had my heart dropping. Abby was on her knees, hands tied behind her back with several guns pointed at her. Nearly all the fight left me.

"Mom," I muttered, still breathless as I let Dmitry's right-hand-man shove me unceremoniously onto the floor. From the little information I'd gathered I knew it was his son, Andrei. It was easy enough to tell just from their resemblance that they were related. "What's going on?"

It was hard, trying not to sound like a scared little girl.

"Do as Dmitry says, Teresa. Please."

As if it were imaginable I became even more frightened, to the point where it was nearly impossible to try and conceal it. Even as my hands were secured in front of me with zip ties, Abby didn't say a word. Dmitry stood back and smirked, taking pleasure in our predicament. "You're going to have fun with this one, Andrei," He grinned, nodding toward me when I fought haphazardly against the zip ties. They were more secure than I could have imagined.

Andrei simply looked at me, his stare chilling. I glared back.

At such words, Mom flinched. That one show of weakness was enough for Dmitry and he pounced, still with that sinister smirk. He stepped closer to me and I tensed, anticipating the worst.

Of course, they would pick on her daughter to get to her. His hand snapped toward me throat, closing around it as if he could snap it in half like a toothpick. In one swift movement he had me in mid-air, slamming me against the wall separating the kitchen from the dining room. I gasped and gasped, my hands going to his around my neck in an effort to pry it off.

"I promise," Mom growled, teeth bared. "I will be the death of you. Let her go!"

Dmitry ignored her, instead squeezing my throat tighter. My vision became spotty and nearly all my fight left me. All I could do was wheeze until all the air left my lungs. Only then did I begin to panic, thinking for sure that this was what Dmitry wanted. To kill me in front of my mother just to torture her. It was how his sick, twisted mind worked.

Fighting against her restraints, Abby finally broke. "What do you want?!"

As soon my mom uttered those words, Dmitry let me go. I fell to the floor and held my throat, still not able to breathe. I heard his footsteps thunder toward Abby, and I laid there unmoving, waiting to see what he would do. Limp and panting, I cried out as Dmitry backhanded my mother.

"You motherfucker," I rasped. "You're a dead man."

When Mom righted herself, Dmitry let out an edged laugh. "You know exactly what I want, dear Abby."

She hesitated. "I… I don't have it."

And then he cocked his Beretta and pointed it at me. It seemed all I could focus on was the barrel of that gun, aimed straight for my head. That I would be dead in just a few moments, pathetically laid out on the floor after having my ass handed to me. "Wait," Mom screamed, frantic. Dmitry didn't load his gun but at least he didn't shoot me either. He looked back to Abby. "Wait, I can get it. I can get something better."

Never had I heard my mom beg like she just had. I could tell that alone killed her—she'd always wanted to be strong for me.

"Elaborate please, Abby." He said slowly, eyes narrowed.

Looking only at me, Mom sighed. "There's a storage locker. A few blocks away from here. What's in it is yours. Just… just leave us alone."

Dmitry and his son shared a look before they both nodded. I merely stared, not really caring what happened anymore. It was obvious that after this, nothing would ever be the same. I knew without a doubt this would be the end of our lives. Never had I been involved in something as big as this, never had my life actually been threatened.

Hopefully, if anything, this would be a wake-up call for Mom.

Andrei hoisted me up by the zip ties still around my wrists, causing them to bite into my flesh. I swore fervently at him, kicking him in the shin after I steadied myself. His grip around my wrist tightened and his eyes narrowed even further, though he made no other move other than forcefully pushing me ahead of him.

"Everyone ready for a ride?" Dmitry asked somewhat maniacally. Both my mother and I merely glared at him in reply.

Five minutes later we were riding in the back of one of those cliché unmarked white vans with our hands still bound. Mom gave me a knowing look, a familiar one. She was silently telling me she had a plan, and I could only hope against hope that it was a good one. It wasn't long before the van halted and Dmitry got out, cutting the rope around my mother's hands and leading her into the storage building with a gun inconspicuously held to her back.

I was left with just Andrei and the driver in front, who I could only see through the metal grate that separated us. Surprisingly, both were quiet. They didn't try to intimidate me or torture me as Dmitry had. They just waited.

I breathed a sigh of relief when mom opened the back door with Dmitry still in tow, except this time they each carried one large bag. I didn't want to know what was inside of them… didn't want to know the true extent of my mother's downfall. All that she'd been hiding.

The last time I'd been in even remotely as deep as this, I'd gotten into a tangle with a drug dealer's kid because of my smart mouth. I had the scar on my shoulder from a broken beer bottle to prove I fought the good fight.

This? This was a thousand times worse.

Without even bothering to look in the bags, Dmitry told the drive to go. I look warily toward my mother, who had settled back in her original spot against the back of the van, this time unbound. She held my gaze steadily, telling me that things were still going as planned. I nearly breathed a slumped in relief—but it wasn't over yet.

We ended up at a secluded pier. I only recognized my surrounding when I was dumped out of the van, landing on my knees. The asphalt tore at my skin through my jeans, but I made no sound of protest. Not a single ship was docked and a bad feeling began to rise in the pit of my stomach. I looked around a little, trying to find somebody… anybody to call for help. No one.

Obviously, that wasn't a good sign. This would be a perfect place to kill somebody and dump their body unseen…

Abby gave me a slight smile, as if she knew what I was thinking. "Everything's going to be okay, baby," She said lowly, pulling me to her side. While Dmitry and Andrei looked inside the bags, she slipped a tiny pocket knife into my hands.

To cut the zip ties.

I couldn't focus on that miracle, however, when I caught a glimpse of what exactly was in those bags.

Cocaine.

Kilos upon kilos of cocaine.

It felt like the word had stopped when I laid eyes on it. As if I were dreaming, I closed my eyes and reopened them. It still there. And my life had officially gone to shit. Mom noticed my slackened, shocked stance and gave my arm a squeeze, trying to reassure me.

Reassure me of what, exactly? That she had completely corrupted herself, put the both of us in danger for money?

"Ah, I knew you would come through for me once again, Abby," Dmitry said, straightening.

Like she had much of a choice in the matter anyway.

If I had to hazard a guess, there had to be at least a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of cocaine there. In those two bags. What the hell had my mother gotten herself into? I knew she was in deep… but this came as a huge blow to me. Looking from Mom to the cocaine, it was solid evidence that nothing would ever be the same again. I felt as if I didn't even know my mother anymore. Or what she was capable of.

The one thing I wanted to do in that moment was wipe that stupid smirk from Dmitry's face. "Thank you for doing business with me, Ms. Bennett."

Everything fell apart when Dmitry raised his gun, pointed directly at my mother. Before he could squeeze the trigger, however, Mom pulled a gun from the waistband of her pants in a millisecond, pointing it at Dmitry. Her expression was cold and I knew she would have no problem killing this man tonight.

I used his momentary shock to break away from the zip ties, backing away. Neither my fists nor the tiny pocket knife would do any good in a gun fight. So I did what I could as a distraction, knocking Andrei's feet out from under him with the heaviest kick I'd ever thrown. The driver was right behind him—and not knowing what to do with this one, I simply punched him square in the jaw. It was enough to send him backwards a couple feet, but not put him on the ground.

Thankfully, Mom had caught onto exactly what I was doing and fired a couple rounds in Dmitry's direction, unfortunately missing him by just a foot or two. That surprised me, from what I'd seen Abby was a dead-on shot. When he ducked out of the way, though, it gave us the one chance we needed to run away. And we took it, running down the short distance of the pier and zigzagging through shipping containers until we'd lost them. Until we were lost ourselves.

Eventually we came back onto a street. I hadn't even been able to think during our run, hadn't been able to focus on much other than running for my life.

I had no idea what to say or do with my mother. She turned toward me, expression as hard as always. "Let's go."

Heya guys. This is my first H50 story, though I don't believe you should go easy on me :) I already have about fifteen chapters written, so I'm posting purely for feedback. This story as a whole, unrealistic as it is, is very personal for me so I'm sort of hesitant about posting at all. I'm having so much fun writing it, though, so I figured why not share eh?

McGarrett will be making his first appearance in the next chapter. Please leave me a little lovin' and I'll post again.

Mele Kalikimaka!