Heaven and Hell (Heaven and Hell #1)(164)
Then his eyes shot to mine.
“He died in my arms.”
I blinked then I froze. Completely. Head-to-toe.
Sam kept speaking.
“Bled all over me, his blood so warm, swear to Christ, I actually felt his life draining out, leaking all over me.”
Oh God.
He was talking about Gordo.
“Sam –” I whispered.
He cut me off with, “Nine words.”
He said no more.
“Nine words?” I asked quietly.
“His last words. There were only nine.”
I waited, my heart beating hard, not wanting to hear it, needing to.
It took some time but then he gave it to me.
Everything.
“He said, ‘Love you, man. Tell my wife I love her.’”
The tears came back and didn’t hover. They just fell over and slid down my cheeks one right after the other.
Sam kept talking.
“Then he died. Said those nine words then he was gone. Fuckin’ watched the light die in his eyes. Just blinked right out. I will never forget that. How he was there, Gordo, my boy, lookin’ at me and not even a second later, just a blink, he was gone for-f*ckin’-ever.”
“Honey,” I whispered.
“Then I had to go tell Luci that shit.”
Oh God.
“I did it and watched the light go out in her eyes too.”
Oh God!
“Didn’t matter to her that his last thought on this earth was that he loved her and he wanted her to know that. All she could feel was that he was gone. All she knew was that she had him, all of him, so much, he’s in a goddamned chopper, the blood leakin’ outta him and him loving her is the last thing that fills his mind then suddenly, in a f**kin’ blink, all that was gone because he was gone.”
“Sam,” I said, stepping toward him but I stopped when he stepped back.
My heart skipped.
He had never moved away from me.
“Told Felicia too,” he declared.
Felicia?
I blinked then whispered, “Who?”
“Ben’s girl. The one I told you about whose friends puked in my car. Only girl he had. They hooked up when he was fifteen, she was fourteen. Got tight fast, stayed tight. She gave herself to him when she was fifteen. He asked her to marry him when she was eighteen. He was focused on his career, his education, givin’ her the life she didn’t have, the life he didn’t have. Thought he had forever to do it. He didn’t. He died before he could do it. And it was me who had to tell her he was gone. Three days after we put him in the ground, she overdosed.”
My hand flew out and I backed up until I caught a chair, steadied myself and stopped.
Sam watched me move but he didn’t. He just kept talking.
“Found her almost too late. Ma did. Her folks were whack jobs, her entire f**kin’ family, dicks and bitches. The lot of them. All she had was us. Ma was worried about her so she went to check on her. Thank Christ she did. Ma called the ambulance and then she called me. Shit was in her system. They nearly didn’t get her to the hospital in time. Then it was touch and go if she did damage to her body, her brain. She survived. She came out unscathed. She’s married now, has a kid, another one on the way. But every time I see her, every time I speak to her, the last thing she says to me is, ‘You know, he’s not Ben.’ She lives that. Her husband lives it. He’s second best to a dead man and he knows it. He tries. He loves her so he tries. Still, I do not see good things.”
“I can imagine,” I said gently.
Sam kept going like I didn’t speak.
“I thought I could take up his work where he left off. I thought, I did what he intended to do, he’d live on. But that shit keeps going. There’s always a f**kin’ enemy. There’s always a f**kin’ assignment. Idiots in suits, most of ‘em who don’t even care enough to expend the energy to walk down the hall, sit in their leather chairs and speak for their people, tellin’ men and women where to go, taking them from their families, putting them in danger, getting their legs blown off, making them bleed. That work will never be done. I gave up what I loved doin’ to take up Ben’s fight and I f**kin’ failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” I assured him softly.
“Yeah? We at war?”
I pressed my lips together.
“We’re always at war, Kia, even when we’re not. I’m trained to kill and I’ve done it, hand to hand. The light goin’ outta Gordo’s eyes was not the only light I’ve seen go out. I’ve made that light go out, with intent, and in the end I don’t f**kin’ know why.”
“To make people safe, honey,” I told him.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I held onto that. I held onto the fact that the men at my side, taking my back, were men the caliber you cannot conceive. Honor wears a uniform.”
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“You have that, you get out, you get lost.”
My heart skipped again.
“Lost?” I prompted when he didn’t go on.
“Lost. I loved playin’ ball but I never missed the pads and jersey. I f**kin’ missed the uniform.”
My fingers clenched the chair. “Then why’d you get out, baby?”
“Because I didn’t understand what I was doin’ anymore, I only knew I respected who I was doin’ it with.”