His hands rush to pick up thin dollar bills leaving small paper cuts on his fingers and I can feel the anxiety seeping off of his body. Sweat collecting into a small bead on his neck as he says something like, "You don't know who my boss is, bitch."...
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His words echo loudly in my head. "Get to the spot now!" Blood dripping from his blonde hair as he rips a walkie off his waist. He tosses it in my hands before pushing me. "NOW! WE DON'T HAVE TIME!" I stumble on my feet before my shoulder slams into the back door, leg dripping a deep plum color onto the pavement.
I can hear my heart pulsing in my ears louder than the sirens that are starting to flood the streets. You gotta keep moving, Wren. I force the duffle bag on my shoulder up higher, clutching another in my hand before sprinting down the alley into the middle of the city.
Tristan said he was going to meet me here... My feet stop me, hesitating in the alleyway before stepping out into the street. Families walking by the thinly paved street not batting me so much as an eyelash. I pull the walkie out from inside my waistband pressing it lightly, "Tris..." A van rushing by throwing me off balance. As soon as I move out the way of the tires their brakes screech to a halt. The side door swings open, revealing Tristan who rips my arm out mid air pulling me inside without any hesitation. I cough as I land onto the floor, him getting back in the driver's seat and stepping on the gas without letting me prepare. It's like he was made for this shit.
"Wh-." I let out a cough choking on my own saliva. "Where the fuck did you get this?" He lets out a menacing chuckle, cutting a hard left around a corner throwing me into the van's wall.
"Sit down!" He yells over the wind as I pull myself into the front seat. I look down to notice blood still dripping from my leg. I rip the tight leather gloves off my hands and toss them into a plastic bag on the passenger floor. "We gotta get back, you lost a lot of blood," He pulls into a multilevel parking garage, slamming on the breaks once again. "Sorry." He says as my face hits the dashboard, leaving a deep throbbing pain in my left cheek. "Actually really sorry." He pops open the glove box and pulls his first aid kit out. "And this is probably going to hurt worse." He motions for me to move to face him.
Tristan pulls my leg onto his lap and his cold fingers caressing my leg ever so slightly as he examines my gunshot wound. "Grazed." He pulls the alcohol top off with his teeth before drowning my leg in it. My jaw clenches so tight it feels like my jaw is wired shut. Nails quickly start digging into the palms of my hands leaving crescent moons. "Hurry up." I sigh, feeling my nails ripping into my skin to numb the pain.
"Look at me." He pulls the needle out of the bag while he grabs my hand and holds it tightly. Slowly he begins to force my skin back together like two mismatch puzzle pieces. Like an unlawful seamstress who's only fabric is flesh. I gaze into his blue eyes, letting the different hues of blue wash over me until I could feel him yank the rest of the thread off. I shake myself out of my gaze and break eye contact with him. "You're okay." He pats me twice on the leg before wiping it off a final time.
He was then pulls a small red lacy piece out of a mini backpack in the backseat tossing it in my lap. "Now put this on." He lets himself smile at me before pointing to the five bags full of cash in the back. "Good fucking job. As I was getting dressed Tristan loaded the money into luggage.
