Orphans of Paradise Page 6

  “Wait, don’t you think we should use her to lure Nadia back. Don’t you want your money?”

  “In the meantime the club can have her.”

  “But…”

  “What the fuck Jax?”

  “I want her,” he said.

  Pascual started to laugh, a long hiss of a thing passing through his lips. He gripped a handful of Rani’s hair, steering her face from side to side. He leaned in close to her ear.

  “You want her?” Pascual said.

  He threw Rani against Jax’s chest.

  “Have fun fucking her.”

  Chapter 9

  Rani

  Rani sat on the floor, back stiff against a cold concrete wall, her hands pressed to her mouth as she tried to warm them. They’d led her up a narrow flight of stairs, cold air blowing past them in a rush before hurling her into that dark, empty room. There was no heat on the second floor of the building and the ceilings were low—an attic space refashioned into a prison cell. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there but she could feel her legs growing stiff.

  She stuffed her fingers into the waist of her jeans trying to warm them even though the skin there was just as frozen, every inch of her shivering. She faced the door, scanning the wide seams for a flash of light, of shadow. She could hear their steps downstairs, dull and heavy, and she waited for them to draw closer, to manifest just outside her door.

  Rani though about Max, about the three of them huddled in that church doorway while he tried to remember the way back. As long as they don’t come for me, she thought, as long as they stay away, they’ll be safe. She wondered if they’d seen them take her or if they were still out there, searching every street and storefront, empty buildings and alleyways—covering every inch of a city they still didn’t recognize like those first few nights when they realized Nadia was gone.

  She hoped that they weren’t—that they were still, that they were safe, that they were warm. Max wouldn’t risk it, she told herself, he’ll find somewhere for them to stay. They’ll be ok. She tried to think about the sky, tried to imagine it—wide and infinite and strung above her head. She tried to hold onto it, to that invisible horizon line flecked with translucent clouds. They’ll be ok. But the words settled there at the back of her throat, raw and ripping her open, and for the first time she stopped fighting the cold—growing still, letting it swaddle her until it was the only thing she could feel.

  Chapter 10

  Jax

  A series of bolt locks cracked loose and then the door pushed open. Jax slid inside, lingering by the seam, listening. No one had seen him coming up the stairs and not a single narc had been hovering near the landing but he stood there, pretending to wait for a sound while he tried to will himself to turn around and face her.

  “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered.

  In her silence he returned to a state of waiting—waiting for Rani to speak, waiting for her to cry, to hit him, to scream. But she didn’t.

  He moved away from the door, afraid his voice might slip through the cracks and out into the hall, and he watched her eyes, fierce and following him. They pinned him in the center of the room and he was still.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” he said.

  They were the only words rising to the surface, the only words he could think to say and his voice hung there, every syllable stifled as it tried to cut through the dark. For a second he wasn’t sure if he’d even said them out loud. But for some reason he just couldn’t wrangle enough resolve to say them again.

  Not because he wasn’t willing. Not because he didn’t think it was his fault. It was. Everything was his fault. The girl Pascual found at the base of those stairs, the man slumped to the floor, his eyes dark with Jax’s reflection. And Rani. If he’d just left them alone. If he’d just left her sister’s things, scattered and frozen in that dumpster down by the beach. If he’d only left sooner. But he didn’t and now she was here, knees pulled to her chin as she sat alone in the dark.

  She drew in a shallow breath. “Max,” she said. “Did they find them too?”

  “I think they were still inside the church. No one saw them.”

  “You have to find them,” she said.

  It wasn’t a question.

  “You want me to leave?”

  Jax took a step closer as Rani’s shadow shifted in the dark.

  “Make sure they’re ok.”

  “But what about you?” Jax lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here alone.”

  “Please.”

  There was something hollow in her voice, like fear. He nodded, watching her shadow shrink along the wall, her shoulders slumping as she exhaled, and then he made his way back toward the door. Voices slipped in, bouncing off the corridor, and Jax stopped, remembering the block of foil in his jacket pocket.

  “I almost forgot,” he said, handing it to Rani. “It’s just a sandwich.”

  He heard a soft tear and then an even softer “Thank you,” as her fingers worked in a fury to peel back the metallic layers.

  Jax made his way down the stairs, the rotting plywood betraying every step. He could already smell the cigarette smoke and he knew there was no avoiding them. Men were leaning across tables, clearing scales, and counting cash. They looked up, scanning Jax for some trace of his encounter with Rani—a tattered shirtsleeve, the faint imprint of her fingernails.

  “Shit, man, you been up there this whole time?” Chavo said, lifting an eyebrow.

  Jax shrugged him off, avoiding his eyes as he made a quick head count. There were six of them—two old men, guts slung over their knees, one of Pascual’s narcs, a couple of Dominican drug dealers restocking their supply, and Chavo, his brother’s right hand man.

  He could wait until they leave. He should wait. But Rani’s voice wasn’t as ephemeral as his own and he was tangled in it, in that fear buzzing just below the surface. I’ll check the trailer, he thought, if they’re not there I can go back out in the morning. It won’t take long.

  Jax took a cab to the first neighborhood before the railroad tracks, pretending to wait at someone’s door while the driver’s headlights blinked out at the end of the street. Then he walked, feet stumbling over loose dirt and rocks as he tried to refashion the path to the trailer without the moon.

  He peered in through that same cracked window, the shadow of his fingerprints still smudged against the glass, but there was no light, nothing. He made his way to the front door, hand cupped to his ear, listening. He knocked once and then he whispered Max’s name. But the place was empty. He leaned against the door, absorbing the cold. How would he tell her? They weren’t there. He tested the words, the volume, the cadence. But all he could hear was the grating truth—that he’d fucked everything up. Again.

  Chapter 11

  Rani

  Rani crawled to her knees, hands flat against the floor as she tried to stand. She leaned against the wall, her legs burning as she tried to get her pulse drumming again, and then she was on her feet. She could feel the draft swirling on her right but she didn’t move toward the door. She’d checked it after Jax had left but it was locked. She thought about what he’d said, about getting her out and she wondered why he didn’t just leave the bolt free and let her do the rest.

  She could hear them downstairs—chairs scraping across the floor, the muted thud of plastic bags being emptied onto tables. And their voices, low, and wary of the storefronts just on the other side of the wall.

  Rani took a few steps forward, fingertips following the wall as her guide. She moved slow, her steps calculated, the light scrape of her shoe ringing in the dark. She came to another wall, her hand brushing the rough seam where the two met and she turned, feeling for a seam, a window, another door.

  The air along this side was cooler, swirling around her legs and brushing her chapped lips. She brushed past another corner, hand still trailing the wall when the rough cement suddenly gave way to something smooth. She stopped, pressing
her hands to the frozen surface and then she pushed. There was a low shudder just above her, something coming loose. She pushed harder, soles of her shoes digging into the floor. There was a sharp crack, a seam jutting up just beneath her palms, and she froze.

  She heard footsteps barreling up the stairs and she was on her knees again crawling back to her place against the wall. The door pushed open and the gunman who’d been next to her in the back seat of that car searched the dark. She watched him, slinking in slow and then he spotted her.

  He caught a fistful of her hair, wrenching her onto her feet. She clawed at him, fingers biting into the rough skin between his knuckles and he drew back, his fist catching her jaw. She stumbled, slumping to her knees.

  “What the fuck?”

  Jax was a splintered silhouette, stars cutting him into pieces. Rani blinked, her fingers reaching for her lip.

  “I heard a noise, like she was trying to find a way out.”

  “Shit,” Jax huffed. “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  The man just stood there, looking from Rani to Jax.

  “I said I’ll take care of it.”

  Jax took a step toward Rani, has fingers sliding into her hair, gripping her scalp. She climbed back onto her feet and the man turned to go, pulling the door closed behind him. When his steps disappeared at the bottom of the stairs Jax loosened his grip, fingers splayed and trembling. He pulled his hand free, his thumb slipping past her cheek before falling limp at his side.

  “Are you ok?” he asked.

  She nodded, a small drop of blood dripping down onto her chin.

  “Here,” Jax said, twisting his shirtsleeve.

  “I can do it myself.” Rani cleaned off the blood with the back of her hand before dabbing at the wound with the corner of her shirt.

  “Did you find them?” she said.

  Jax shook his head. “But I’ll keep looking.”

  “When?”

  “Soon,” he said. “I promise.”

  Raised voices churned beneath their feet, rising in a torrent from the floor. There was a loud crash like something being thrown against the wall. Jax turned toward the door and Rani caught hold of his wrist.

  “When?” she said again.

  “Tonight,” he said, turning to go. “I’ll be back later.”

  She watched the door slide closed, the last strand of light being sucked out into the hall. Max was only thirteen. She thought about the way their father’s coat hung loose on his shoulders, his fingertips barely skimming the sleeves. She thought about that first night, the four of them huddled together on the floor of a phone booth, his hand reaching for hers for the first time in two years.

  She buried her face in her knees, trying not to think about the things she knew for certain—that they were cold, that they were hungry, that they hadn’t just lost one sister but two. She prayed that Max wouldn’t risk stealing food for them again. If he was caught they would all be sent back to Colombia, the cartel waiting for them just outside the airport. But the thought of them, noses raw, fingers numb, sifting through a dumpster made her stomach turn. She bit down hard on her lip, the wound tearing open again as she slid onto the floor. She fell there, face buried in her hands, and for the first time since their parents’ funeral, she relented and let the tears fall.

  Chapter 12

  Rani

  Rani felt the crack rippling up under her palm. She grazed it with her thumbnail, chipping at it. It was thick, something peeling off it in flecks, and she held the scraps up to her nose. They smelled like the rest of the room—dank and dirty but there was a hint of something chemical, like paint. She kept scraping, the thin skin slipping under her nails until she could feel the slick surface underneath, a small sliver of light edging through the darkness.

  She heard the click of the bolt and froze, her hand pressed to the light, shielding it. The door fell closed again and she held her breath.

  “Rani?” It was Jax, his voice swirling somewhere in the center of the room.

  “I’m back here,” she said, drawing out the words so he could tether himself to them, maneuvering his way through the dark.

  “Where?”

  She reached out a hand. “Keep going.”

  He brushed past her, the toe of his shoe hitting the wall.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  Her hand fell free, revealing the light.

  “What is that?”

  “I think it’s a window,” she said.

  Jax pressed his hands to the wall and then knocked against the surface with his knuckle. The sound was hollow, the echo dull within the glass. Rani tore at the paint, fingernails freeing a few more flecks.

  He caught her thumb. “Wait. What if someone comes in and sees that?” he said.

  “This is my way out,” she said, pulling out of his grasp.

  “This glass is thick,” Jax said. “We’ll need something heavy.”

  “One of those chairs from downstairs?”

  “Maybe. But it’ll be loud too. They’ll be up those stairs in a second.”

  “I have to try.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Jax said. “Just trust me.”

  Rani paused, thinking. “Can I?” she said.

  He was quiet, each exhale against her skin the only sign that he was still there, and for a second she wished she could take it back.

  “I didn’t—”

  “You shouldn’t,” he stopped her. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

  She wanted to trust him. She wanted to let someone else make the hard decisions, to let someone else keep them all safe, her safe. She wanted to let him save her. But he was right. She shouldn’t.

  “Did you find them?” she said, filling the silence.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “What about the church?”

  “I didn’t see anyone nearby. But I couldn’t exactly go inside. I’ll check the other house.”

  Rani tasted the dry panic and she tried to swallow it down. “When?”

  “As soon as I can.”

  “When.”

  “Pascual’s been keeping tabs on me. It’s getting harder to shake him off. I’ll go as soon as I can.”

  “They need me,” Rani said.

  She felt the space between them shrink, Jax’s mouth hovering at the edge of her hairline. He exhaled.

  “I told you, I’ll find them. I’ll get you out of here.”

  “Why?”

  He was quiet.

  “Why are you doing this?” she said.

  “Because…it’s the right thing.” The words rippled out foreign and fragile.

  “Not for you, it’s not,” Rani said. “It’s suicide.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “If I go missing, they’ll know it was you. Haven’t you thought about that?”

  Rani didn’t know why she wanted the truth, why she even cared at all. She shouldn’t. But for the past three weeks every step she took, every word she said had been contingent on thorough, thoughtful calculations, everything culminating to the sum of her survival. And if she was Jax this would not be an equation that she would ever even consider. If she was Jax she wouldn’t be here at all. She didn’t want to challenge him, to make him change his mind. But there was also a part of her that was afraid. Not that he’d get hurt—she knew he would—but that she might feel it.

  “I have,” he finally said.

  “And?” she pushed.

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Why are you trying to talk me out of this?”

  “I’m not.” Rani grew quiet.

  “I can take care of myself,” Jax said.

  “If something did happen,” Rani started, “I would never want to be responsible for that.”

  “Well then maybe there’s your answer,” Jax said.

  “What does that mean?”

  He drew back, cold, empty space cutting between them. “It means I know what that’s like
. And now I know what to do about it.”

  “Is that why you left?”

  He shrugged and then he exhaled. “Yes.”

  “I’m…” But Rani couldn’t finish.

  Jax leaned in close and said, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Chapter 13

  Jax

  Jax took a taxi as far as the first borough, paying the cabby with a stipend his brother had given him in exchange for bringing them Rani. He walked the rest of the way in case the driver happened to work for Pascual, being careful to check every seemingly abandoned structure he past. Despite all of the dilapidated buildings with their broken windows and overgrown lawns, it was nicer than the neighborhood he’d grown up in. The neighborhood they lived in before Pascual bought them a big apartment on Oviedo and 5th.

  Jax remembered the day they moved in, they’re stuff stacked against bare white walls, and him sprawled out on the floor of one of the empty rooms. He’d lain there, staring at the ceiling until it seemed to bend, the walls climbing at a slope, and it made him feel small. Even his mother had wandered from room to room with a quiet wariness, settling to sleep with just a few blankets on the bare living room floor, not opening a single box for three days.

  He wasn’t working for his brother yet, he’d just turned fourteen, but he still knew how he’d gotten the money and it made their new home seem as fragile and finite as the cocaine that was paying their rent.

  Sometimes on his way home from school Jax would linger in one of the convenient stores at the end of the block, spending the rest of his lunch money on packs of stale gum and car magazines, trying to avoid their new place for as long as he could. Not because it wasn’t nicer than where they’d been, but because he never knew who or what might be waiting for him when he got there.

  It was supposed to be some kind of gift but the truth was that a rival Capo had caught wind of where Pascual’s mother was living, where he visited her on Sunday afternoons to bring her money for groceries. When Pascual started moving in on the Venezuelans’ territory, making deals with their suppliers in South America, and killing their narcs en route to make a delivery, it wasn’t safe to be in that tiny apartment on Holston, it wasn’t safe to be his mother. So he moved them to a complex cinched by churches and prep schools, his fear somehow remedied by 900 square feet and an old doorman who knew the tenants by name.