Chapter five:2AM
1209 Words
1:14am. The Docks.
Rain.
The port smelled like diesel, salt, and blood.
Damon stood with his back to a shipping container, phone to his ear, while Marcos and two of his men dragged a Moretti soldier across the wet concrete.
“Who gave the order?” Damon asked. Voice calm.
The man spat blood. “f**k you.”
Damon didn’t blink. “Wrong answer.”
A gunshot. Once.
Silence.
Marcos looked at him. “Shipment’s secure, boss. But we lost three crates.”
Damon ran a hand through his wet hair. 15 million. Minus three crates. Minus trust.
This was absolutely war now.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
But he knew who it was.
You did well tonight.
He’d sent it 3 hours ago. No reply.
He typed:
You home safe?
Three dots. Then nothing.
Damon stared at the screen.
Elena Forbes. 20years. No boyfriend. No debt. Brave when she was scared.
She’d sat at that table with Moretti and didn’t flinch. Didn’t cry. Didn’t run. Didn’t show sign of fear.
“Trouble is my business”.
He’d meant it as a warning to them.
He didn’t realize it was also a promise to her.
“Boss?” Marcos said. “We heading out now?”
Damon put his phone away. “No. Drive me to New Orleans .”
“Boss, it’s 1:30am—”
“I said Drive me to New Orleans .”
*************************************************
2:03am. Elena’s Apartment.
Elena wasn’t sleeping.
She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts. The borrowed black dress was folded on her chair like it was a pair of evidence.
Her phone was face down.
She hadn’t replied to Damon yet.
Because if she replied, this would become real.
If she didn’t reply, he might disappear from her life.
And that scared her more.
A knock.
Soft. Three times.
Elena froze.
“Elena.”
Her blood went cold.
That voice. Low. Tired. Wet.
She stood. Walked to the door. Didn’t open it.
“Who is it?”
“You know who it is.”
She unlocked it. Twice.
Damon stood in the hallway.
Navy suit was gone. He wore black pants and a black button-down, sleeves rolled up, top 3 buttons undone. Rain dripped from his hair onto his collar.
There was a cut on his jaw. Dried blood on his knuckles.
He looked dangerous.
He looked exhausted.
Elena didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
It wasn’t a demand. It was a question.
She stepped aside.
He walked in. The apartment was tiny. Hot. The cracked photo of her parents on the wall. The plastic chair. The single window.
Damon took it all in. One sweep.
“You didn’t eat,” he said. Nodding to the plate on her table. Cold rice.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You should eat.”
Elena crossed her arms. “Why are you here, Damon? Its 2am? With blood on your hands?”
He looked down at his knuckles. Like he’d forgotten.
“Because you didn’t answer me,” he said simply.
Elena blinked. “That’s it? You came all the way here because I didn’t reply your text back?”
“I don’t like loose ends,” he said. The same line from the cafe. “And you’re my loose end.”
“Liar.” The word came out before she could stop it.
Damon’s eyes lifted to hers.
“What?”
“You don’t care about loose ends at 2am in the rain,” Elena said. Voice shaking now. “You care because...” She couldn’t finish.
Damon stepped closer. Close enough that she could smell rain and gunpowder and his cologne.
“Because what?” he asked. Quietly.
Elena’s throat hurt. “Because you’re scared I’ll disappear.”
The silence stretched.
Damon didn’t deny it.
He reached into his pocket. Pulled out a small black box. Set it on her table next to the cold rice.
“What’s that?” Elena asked.
“A phone,” he said. “New number. Only me and Marcos have it. You answer when I call. You text when you’re safe.”
Elena stared at the box. “I have a phone.”
“It’s not secure.”
“I’m not a criminal you know right?.”
“I know that ,” Damon agreed. “You’re not. That’s why I need to protect you.”
The word again. Protect.Not own. Not use.
Elena laughed. No humor. “You used me tonight. As a life shield.”
“I did.” He didn’t flinch. “And I’m sorry.”
Elena stopped.
He’d never said sorry before.
Damon ran a hand over his face. He looked tired. Really tired.
“The Morettis hit my shipment. If I hadn’t had you there, there would’ve been blood on that table. Not just on me.”
“So you risked me to save them?”
“I risked you to save everyone,” he corrected. “Including you too. ”
Elena walked to the window. Pressed her forehead to the cracked glass.
Outside, Marcos was in the car. Watching. Always watching.
“Why me?” she whispered. “There are a hundred women in this city who would kill to be your date. Pretty women. Rich women. Women who know how to play this game.”
Damon came up behind her. Not touching. Just close.
“Because you walked in front of my car like you had nothing to lose,” he said. “And then you got up and went to work. Because you didn’t beg when I offered you money. Because when I said “belong to me”, you didn’t smile. You got angry instead.”
He paused.
“And because for the first time in 10 years, someone looked at me and didn’t see Damon Cross. They saw a man in an SUV.”
Elena turned around.
They were inches apart.
“Don’t do this,” she said. “Don’t make me feel things for you. I can’t afford to.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Damon said. “I’m asking you to stay alive.”
He reached out. Brushed his thumb under her eye. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
His touch was warm. Calloused. Gentle.
It terrified her.
“Take the phone,” he said. “Take the money. Let me do this for you. Please.”
The please broke her.
Elena picked up the black box. It was light. Too light to be the weight of what it meant.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Business.”
Damon nodded. Once.
He turned to leave. Hand on the doorknob.
“Elena.”
She looked up.
“If anything happens to me,” he said. “Call Marcos. Not the police. Him.”
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut.
Elena stood there for a long time.
The new phone in her hand buzzed.
Unknown number.
Get some sleep.
She didn’t reply.
She climbed into bed. The rain hit her tiny window.
For the first time in 3 years, she didn’t feel alone.
And that was the most dangerous part of it all.
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