Fixed Parts Read online

  “Gabriel—”

  “Mia, please. Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I want you so badly, I’m prepared to burn down the entire world just to know you’ll be safe. But I can’t guarantee your safety—not to you, not to myself—and I won’t have your death on my conscious. I won’t have any part of you. Let me admire you from afar, let me long and desire you from beyond my barriers. Go. Find peace elsewhere. Make yourself a home.”

  I stood up, towering over Mia. Her lips a tight line, her chest heaving.

  Without a word she snatched the envelope, rounded the desk, and rummaged through the drawer, picking at the contents, filling her bag with nothing but replaceable shit. She grabbed her stupid potted plant. The tall leaves loomed over her. Mia stopped at the door, her eyes lingered on mine—unmade promises broke behind them, unmade memories erased, all that could have been diminished in a whisper, “Goodbye, Gabriel.”

  I unlatched my eyes from hers and when I looked up again, she was gone. I watched her cross the workshop and yank the heavy door open. With a final glance at me, she stepped outside and out of my life.

  At least, that’s what I thought.

  PART X

  I woke up in the office chair, my already aching body protesting my movements. Stiff joints and heavy limbs resisted my attempts to reposition myself. I groaned as I shifted and twisted in the chair. I looked down at the desolate workshop. An empty shell. The thought like a blade in my chest.

  A happy bark greeted me. “Hey buddy, have you been keeping me safe?” Spots jumped up at me wagging his tail. “Time to go for a walk?” He barked in answer and ran to the office door, running in crazed circles.

  The day had faded leaving behind long shadows along the walls. Despite his enthusiasm, Spots walked by me as I hobbled down the stairs, he accompanied me to my room, and watched as I pissed and splashed water on my face. I wondered if he remembered me doing the same after his operation—following him into every room, supporting him through every action.

  I shook the memory away and wobbled as I thought about Mia and her whispered goodbye. I sucked in a deep breath and headed for the front door. I needed to erase all thoughts of her.

  I did the right thing.

  I pulled at the door, holding it open for Spots. He leapt out, his mangled leg keeping up with the three healthy ones. He ran to a pile of dirt a few paces from the shop. Stopped, sniffed and barked at me.

  “We’re going this way, buddy, come on.”

  Spots sat and barked again. “This way buddy.”

  He ignored me and waited. I sighed and walked over to him, immediately recognising the pile. My heart slammed in my chest, and the world seemed to have slipped off its axis, making me feel off balance.

  The potted plant lay shattered on the ground, the leaves lay limp, as roots protruded from the spilt earth.

  Mia.

  Sprinting back inside, my body forgot its aches as I reached for the phone. Spots paced around, his whines low and muted.

  I called her number. It rang out. I tried again. It rang out a second time. I called Salvatore.

  “Find her, now! Start with Stephano.” I slammed the phone into the receiver, my heart convulsed in my chest as if my very soul was in cardiac arrest.

  I stumbled against the table and caught myself, my legs unable to hold up my body weight. I stabilised myself and sucked in a deep breath, the air feeling too heavy, rolling down my throat like salty water. I coughed and spluttered and sucked another breath. Images of Rita’s broken body saturated my mind. The twisted limbs, the broken skin, her terrified frozen eyes.

  “No.” It was a whisper that resounded across the universe, a promise to all the gods, a resolution. If they would just let me bring her back, I’d never let her go again. I wouldn’t allow any more distance between us. I would protect her no matter the cost because, at last, I had to accept what I’ve known all along—she was mine.

  I straightened my back and breathed in. The air slid into my lungs, filling them with purpose, with promise. I gripped the receiver and called Salvatore again, “Bring that asshole here. We have business.”

  “Be there in twenty, boss.”

  “You better be.”

  I hung up and went straight to the supply room. I grabbed a length of rope, letting the weight comfort me as the rough texture ground against my palm. I limped onto the workshop floor and found the remote for the electric hoist winch. It whirred as I positioned it near the middle of the room, then flung the rope over the hook.

  A cold calm overtook me. I’ve been to war before and it had its casualties. Today it was going to be Stephano Fallo.

  I heard the car screech to a halt outside and muffled shouting as the iron door swung open. Salvatore and Romeo pulled Stephano inside. He was kicking and fighting against them but, without his thugs to provide muscle, he was powerless.

  “Bring him over here.”

  Salvatore and Romeo shoved Stephano forward until they could all see what I had prepared for him. At the sight of the rope, Stephano begun to scramble. He twisted and tried to wriggle out of the hold, but he was no match for the two men who had their hands clamped around his arms and shoulders.

  With a shove, Salvatore and Romeo released Stephano, and he stumbled and fell in front of me. It was satisfying to look over him as he cowered on his knees. I had to remind myself that the purpose of being there was not to execute revenge—well, not entirely.

  “Did you miss me, pretty boy?” He spat out.

  “Something about your personality makes it hard to stay away.”

  “My personality is not nearly as pretty as your new face.” He smirked.

  My fists tightened by my side and I sniffed his fear, “Where’s Mia?”

  “Mia who?”

  Nails dug into my palm as I tried to contain the savage anger that was building up inside of me, “Stop playing games, Stephano. Where the fuck is she?”

  “Jesus, Gabriel, you’re dumber than you look, or maybe I beat you so hard you just forgot,” his weasel face contracted in a smile, “Let me refresh your memory; not five days ago, you came to visit me and my friends, and we had a friendly chat regarding Mia,” his eyes shot up to the hook above his head, mine remained glued to his face, “We then proceeded to ask you very politely to stay away from her. If you need another reminder, just go look in the mirror.” His smile stretched across his face.

  I clenched my jaw and tipped my head to Salvatore who seized Stephano by the scruff of his shirt. In a swift motion, I grabbed the rope that had been dangling loosely above us and wrapped it three times around Stephano’s neck. He grunted at the feel of the rough cord on his skin. I pulled the remaining length to his wrists and tied them firmly behind his back.

  Salvatore released him.

  He looked like a wild animal, captured and dangerous. Stephano leered at me—mocking—then leapt to his feet and began to run.

  Romeo, Salvatore, and I remained where we were. Stephano managed five steps before the rope stopped his advances. He pulled against it, his face reddening, his eyes bulging from their sockets. He gasped for air and took a few steps backwards.

  His head twisted back when he heard the whirring.

  “Hey man. Gabriel,” he took another step backwards, letting the slack in the rope hang. “Let’s talk about this.”

  The hook continued to rise.

  “Gabriel.”

  Rising.

  “There’s no need for this.”

  Higher.

  “Gabriel, please.”

  Tighter.

  His voice grew frantic as he tried to fight his restraints, but with every move he tangled himself further with the rope.

  “It’s better if you stop fighting,” my voice remained calm. The sight of his petrified face goading me on.

  The machine continued to whir until only Stephano’s toes touched the ground. They scrapped, muted on the concrete as he gasped for air.

  “Gabriel.” He whispered.

  I ste
pped closer to him—hung up like that made it easier to look into his eyes. “I kept my promise,” I ignored his pleas, “But she came to me. She wanted her last paycheque—I guess she never got it.”

  I let the words hang for a moment while Stephano wobbled unbalanced, “She left my office a couple of hours ago, and now she seems to be gone.”

  I looked to his face, the red bloated skin instantly turning ashen.

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing,” he spluttered out too quickly.

  I stood quietly and watched him struggle to breathe. His body dangling in a half-controlled fall.

  “Gabriel,” he choked and spluttered, “Let it go, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  “What do you know? Who took her?”

  “You might as well kill me. If I talk, I’m a dead man anyway.”

  I considered his words.

  “Who?”

  His feet scrapped the concrete, and his eyes bulged out as he lost his footing. His body dangled and twisted, fighting with the ground until his toes found purchase, and he managed to right himself. He gasped for air, the purplish tinge of his skin settling into an angry crimson.

  “Don’t do this.” He rasped.

  “Who?” I shouted, my patience wearing thin with his game.

  “Rocco. Emilio Rocco.”

  I turned to Salvatore, and for a spilt second his face shifted. His brow creased and his mouth twisted. The expression was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

  I turned to Romeo, “Watch him.”

  I tipped my head to Salvatore. He made his way to the front door, and I followed.

  Once we were outside, he turned to me, “You know the name?”

  “No.”

  “It wasn’t on the list.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I shot him a look that erased any uncertainty.

  “I thought we got everyone. I thought we go them all.” The street light cast a shadow over his creased face.

  “So did I.”

  Emilio Rocco. I would have to find out who this man was and why he decided to fuck with me and what was mine.

  “Could we have missed anyone?” His stormy eyes grow dark.

  “I don’t know—let’s go inside and find out.”

  Stephano was just as we had left him.

  “Still hanging around, I see?”

  He didn’t respond. In the five minutes I had spent outside with Salvatore, he had turned a deeper shade of red. His neck hung heavily on the rope that was clearly digging into his skin. It was raw and angry and, if he survived this, would be extremely painful. The thought gave me pleasure.

  “Who is he? What do you know of him?”

  He took a shallow breath and lifted his head to me, “A relative.”

  “Shit man. Your family breeds like cockroaches, one in every dark hole.”

  “Well, this one crawled out from under the deepest, darkest fucking pit just to find you.” His voice was raspy and mocking.

  “Did you tell him about Mia?” My voice hissed, anger flooded my veins, and all I saw was a red-hot wall of pain that I wanted to unleash on this man.

  Stephano didn’t respond. For the first time that night, he didn’t react at all. His silence was all the answer I needed.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t…” he sucked in another shallow breath, “I don’t know.”

  He was tiring fast. His body tensed, then fell with the effort only to tense again as it needed to remain upright to suck in air, to stay alive.

  “Where?”

  “Cut... me... down.”

  “Where?”

  “I... don’t… know,” he struggled for breath, “Please.” He begged. His chest falling and rising urgently with every desperate inhale.

  I didn’t want to be like this. I didn’t want to be a monster, but this is what they made me, and I wasn’t going to apologise for it. Fuck it, no one ever apologised to me. Monsters can’t be weak. They can’t show mercy, they can’t allow cracks to form in their armour.

  I turned to Salvatore and spoke in a low tone, “Find out what you can about this Emilio Rocco.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  With that, he stepped outside. A moment later a car engine roared to life and purred as it drove away.

  I took a long lingering look at Stephano and tried to make sense of everything.

  “Thanks for hanging around, Stephano,” he looked into my eyes—hatred burned behind his weasel retinas, his chest heaved and fell with the effort of staying alive.

  I turned to Romeo, “You know what to do.”

  He nodded in response, and I cut through the shop calling for Spots, “Time for your walk buddy.”

  “No,” Stephano’s slurred, strained voice carried across the concrete ocean between us. “You… can’t… leave… me… like…this... Gabr—”

  I didn’t stay long enough to hear him beg.

  We marched. Spots’ leg dragged behind him. It dragged when he got too tired to hold it up. A pang of guilt shot through me. The streets were quiet. Everything felt too quiet—like the night I lost Rita. That night, her laughter and spirit were ripped out of this world so suddenly and violently that the world became more silent, more dim without her. Thing was, I never loved Rita. That scared me because it made me wonder what a world without Mia might feel like.

  The walk was meant to clear my head of all the “what if’s” but, with each step, the thoughts and images I wanted to leave behind haunted me, seeming to get closer instead of further away.

  I turned back to the garage. Spots was getting tired. I walked inside to find Romeo and Stephano gone.

  Who the fuck was Emilio Rocco?

  As if the room read my mind, the office phone rang. I took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the shooting pain in my injured body. I yanked the receiver from the phone.

  “Boss, there’s not much. But, we did find an old farm.”

  “Where?”

  Salvatore gave me the address. “Thanks.”

  “You need company?”

  “No, I’ll be all right.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I am.”

  “And boss?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful. It was one we burned down.” I held the phone to my ear for a single breath and hung up.

  Maybe it was stupid. Maybe I should have slept first, rested, collected my thoughts, and allowed my body to heal just one more night. But when it came to Mia, nothing was clear or clean or precise; it was muddled and messy, and I couldn’t wait—not for one more second.

  The drive blurred into whipping images. White and grey boxes, then green and blues with patches of yellow—a kaleidoscope of colour outside my black, agonised soul. My heart smashed in my chest, and I swallowed rock after rock as I closed in on my destination.

  I turned onto the gravel path, the rocks crunched below my tyres, bumping into a mantra that hummed with the gushing of blood through my veins.

  Just

  Not

  Like

  Rita.

  The road twisted like a sun baking snake. In the distance, I could see the structure—grey and ashen, as if it had exhaled and forgot to inhale once more.

  I parked the car and killed the engine. I climbed out of my seat and holed up under a pile of rocks veiled by long grass. Everything seemed isolated. Empty. The long grass had been left to grow wild and out of control and had begun to recover the road. Tentacles of green wove their way into the cracked, dried earth. The unkempt field was peppered with yellow daffodils that seem to insert themselves anywhere loneliness grew.

  I scanned the building. Once a barn, now a skeleton held up by nothing but memories and blackened, old brick walls. In place of windows, empty openings stood naked and exposed.

  I lay there a while longer, my insides coiling and turning as if a fist had crawled its way inside me and was squeezing. Despite the urgency to run inside and break everything down, I
had to be patient. I couldn’t help anyone if I was dead. I scanned the area searching for movement. The place was silent, even the birds had deserted it.

  I circled the perimeter, staying low, seeking out whatever—whoever—was waiting for me. But all I found was desolation and destruction. My heart sank.

  I sucked in a galvanising breath and made my way to the building.

  The door squealed like a dying rat as I pried it open. Light fell across the dark room, creating a long, odd shadow. Long charred beams rose idly in places where walls once stood. I waited, listening. I glued my back to the wall and crept inside. My heart strummed and my mind reeled. The place was deserted. That door made enough noise to alert anyone waiting for me. If someone wanted me dead, I already would have been.

  I waited, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim light. My ears prickled with every creak of the rotten wood and twist of metal. This place was a death trap.

  I crawled along the wall, staying buried in shadows. My shirt catching and dragging along the worn, prickly bricks; my shoes coated in dusty, grey powder.

  I spotted a second door. The polished white wood stood out like a dove in a funeral of crows. The odd immaculateness of white against black forced all the hair on my body to tingle and prick up. I crept over to it, my fingers curled around the knob, and I steadied my breathing. Whatever lay behind that door would change my world forever. After, there would be no going back.

  I turned the knob and pulled the door open.

  My heart stopped.

  PART XI

  The first thing I saw were her eyes; they widened at the sight of me. The grip on my heart loosened and, for a moment, all the tension seeped from my body, and I sagged against the wall. My screaming heartbeat turned into a melody.

  Alive.

  I steadied myself against the wall and took her in. Her right eye enveloped in purple—swollen and angry. The golden flakes that usually danced, dulled, diminished. A green gag sealed her mouth, and I could see her nostrils flare, sucking air where her mouth could not. Mia’s hair was plastered across her face and loose down her back. The light-blue singlet clung to her body, baring her shoulders and arms carved with red raw scratches.