..::.. Chapter 62 - Congratulate You ..::..

They send no one in. The silence never felt so desolate.

I sleep for hours. I wake and there's a tray of food on the table a few times a day. I dab at cuts and wounds over an exposed dirty sink, no mirror. A toilet by it, bare and the same. I stare at walls and let memories and regret flood me.

I can't tell if it's day or night unless the door swings open. I forget how many days I'm here.

What do they want from me? Where do we go from here? I'm not sure an imprisonment like this has lasted this long. How long was Riley alive?

Hours of anguish, the door opens; Jenks.

He stands there and I sit here. We stare.

"Get me Edward," I plead. No response from him. "Fine, then … get me out of here," I weakly try with a shrug.

He's quiet.

"This is ridiculous. You could do anything to stop this." I point. "Yet, here you are. All the cowardly men in my life."

"Shut the fuck up," he warns. He looks out, at all angles around him, he leans on the threshold.

"You put yourself through this," he says.

I'm speechless. "You piece of shit," is all I can come up with. "I did all the work after you threatened me for information, and now I'm on my own?"

"Do you have a death wish? I said shut the fuck up."

I lift a wrist and let it fall, tired. "Fine. Fuck off, then. I don't need you or anyone. I'll just die here." I watch him. "Why are you here, anyway? To taunt me. Laugh at me?"

"Congratulate you," he says instead. He lights a cigarette.

That throws me—both the remark and what's wedged between his fingers. He's looking out at the dead of night. The sky, ink-blue.

"No person has ever roughed up a mob so much. They're … ruffled. And we're impressed." We, meaning the feds. "You have no idea what the fight is like out here. For your life. You've torn up a family."

"Since when did you smoke?" I deflect. I know it's hell out there like it is here. Probably more so.

He flicks the ash. "You're the luckiest motherfucker. You've played your cards right. We're ready to hire you."

I laugh.

"You and me, taking on the world. You seduce them, and …"

"You sit it out until someone else does the job for you?" I interrupt. He grins, takes a hit.

"Don't mess with Bella," he says. We settle in this silence. Like this is normal, another day and interaction. But that stick between his fingers shows how much he's changed. Emmett has infiltrated him, too.

"How did you get this watchmen gig? Doesn't Emmett need you to scratch his balls or get him coffee?"

He sneers. "I … volunteered in a way. They were all in a stir when I said I'd stay and watch."

So he's been here all along? Hm.

"It's the least you could do," I say.

He gives me a side eye. "Yeah well, we're doing what we can, too. Don't puff up your ego."

"A stir, huh?" I nudge, wanting the details. "So, not shaken."

"A bit of both. You wouldn't know but, he knocked Carlisle out when they came for you, watching you run into the house, Carlisle held him back amused. That pushed him over the edge. They all came back on his jet the same day you left. The meeting room was full. They all met up at a pub's backroom." He pauses, eyes far like he's there, as he picks at the filter with his thumb. The fiery sparks fall to the ground by his boot like fireflies.

"You were there?"

"It's where I volunteered."

"Front-row seats to my sentencing. I can see it now; a cliche dark room, a single bulb above a billiards table, smoke in the air, and liquor bottles clinking against empty glasses. Is that where you learned to smoke? To fit in?" I poke, looking at him caressing the stick between his fingers like a pro.

He sighs out a cloud. "Don't you want to know how desperate he was? How worried he looked? Sitting at the table, no suit or tie, a salty, sandy, tired mess. He tried to hide the utter terror with this mask of anger—like he was, in turn, angry at your betrayal. But I knew better." He laughs a bit. "Kinda … sweet, actually. He really does have a thing for you, doesn't he?"

I roll my good eye, but I'm twisted inside. My stomach is in knots at the full picture he described. "You never had a high school sweetheart. How would you know?" I jab.

"Touché," he retorts, through a silent pause.

"Then, what?" I ask. "C'mon, don't change the channel now. I dont have the remote, and you paused for commercials." He smirks, looking out.

This is my bedtime story now.

"The sentencing was simple: Kill you. But he said, 'absolutely not', not without your full confession on the whereabouts of the list. No one said shit, scared to push back. I was glad for his answer, even if you wouldn't believe me." He looks over at me. "It would give me more time."

"Right."

His cheeky grin. "Emmett sure wasn't shy, though. You really pissed him off, didn't you?"

"He protested?" I suggest.

"He demanded your death."

Of course. "So? He was denied? He was chastised, put in his place?" I ask.

Jenks smiles sadly. "Not exactly."

We're mute a moment. I couldn't possibly try speaking this second if I tried.

"Boss had a face; suppressed rage, but a hint of defeat, knowing something must be done about a traitor. I'm impressed he never lost control. The guy is terrifying. Ironically, that expression went blank when the uncles suggested his resignation in careful words—insinuating his irresponsibility under his watch."

I look up at him, surprised.

Jenks whistles low. "The brawl that erupted."

"Why, because of the suggestion?" I ask.

"No, because he laughed. Like, a good, fucking hardy laugh." Jenks chuckles himself and takes a puff, holding his breath. "You know the kind. The kind that deflates any air of power and audacity. Because it boils down to this: He's in charge." Jenks points with his index finger. I can see the obsession he's developed with these men doing this secret work. So much so, he's a fan now.

He continues with mirth. "His men, with guns loaded and at the ready, had surrounded us in a circle without our knowing," he says with fascination. "He dared them to try and take what's his.

But it was obvious he was referring to Emmett. He's desperate. So, you're right; he's been setting himself up to be boss all along."

"No one ever listens to women," I muse. Jenks' turn to roll his eyes. "So, they fought."

"Nope. His guard's did. He didn't lift a finger. He sat there and wheezed out a laugh while Emmett took hits and was held back from attacking. End of discussion."

The nephew, who was raised to be the best candidate, is now the teacher's enemy. How bizarre.

"So, what now? I die? I stay here for … life? What happens, Ben?" He looks at me hard, but he ignores the name, eyes down cast.

"I really don't know, nothing was settled at that meeting. I'm just … trying to get this going." He means the final arrests, the catch.

"Well, whatever you do," I say, getting comfortable on the floor. "You better protect Sue and Charlie, or I swear to god …"

He flicks the cigarette butt and taps it with his boot. "You underestimate me. I've let it fly, but now it's just pissing me off."

"Okay," I say with a nod. "So you are watching them. You're … providing guards where they live and work, where they go. Warning them not to leave the house unless necessary? Protecting their businesses and the people working there? Their … fucking pets, even?"

Nothing from him.

"You're pathetic," I state. "The least you could do right now is get me Edward."

"I don't have that pull."

"Well, you better start pulling until you find it. Or I swear I'll talk and put you in here."

He cuts his eyes to me. "We would prosecute you for interfering."

"Looks like I'm dead either way."

We stare at one another. "You'd really let me die here?" He looks away.

Everything crumbles inside. He'd let me die here. "Get Garret. He'll get Edward," I say, dictating his phone number by memory. "I want him here next time I wake up." I turn off the bulb and crawl to my side of the room.

….