Page 147 of Taint My Soul

“To Ali’s place, just off the city’s main bridge.” He reaches for his phone in his pocket. “Can you drive?”

“I have only tried once.” I answer.

He grips my shoulder and looks into my eyes, expression absolute. “Elio, I need you to do this. If you don’t, I’ll die.”

“I won’t let you die. Now get in.” I whisper, voice trembling.

I slam the door once he’s in and circle the bonnet, getting into the driver’s seat. I shrug off my backpack and place the gig bag on the side seat. I insert the key into the ignition switch. Rapid breaths spill from my lungs as my chest constricts. I grip the steering and take in deep breaths. The car makes a deep, refined roar as it comes to life.

I step on the gas and peel off, driving into the city.

“Are you sure they won’t find us?” I look over my shoulder. He has his phone in his hand. I don’t know who he’s texting, but I’m pretty sure it’s someone who can help.

“Keep driving.”

“Alright. Just keep your eyes open, okay. Stay with me.” I utter. I press harder on the gas and then switch to the brakes. The car jerks to a halt, almost colliding with a black sedan. The man behind the wheel yells and throws his middle finger through the half-opened front door window. I put the car in reverse and weave through the traffic ahead of me.

Halfway out of the city, I look over my shoulder and see Bernard lying motionless in the back seat, bleeding out on the leather.

“Bernard!” I clamor. “Bernard, wake up!” I bellow, and his eyes snap open. “You need to stay alive.” I declare.

The city blurs through the rearview mirror as I get onto the bridge through a roundabout intersection. “Bernard, are you still here?”

“Yes,” he whispers, voice fragile. “He has a red car.” Bernard whispers behind me.

My hands tighten around the steering wheel, heart racing a thousand miles, as I keep my gaze off the windshield. After a while, the car comes off at the end of the bridge. My eyes scan the surrounding area for a red car.

I step on the brakes when I see a red sedan parked on the side of the road. The man wearing a burgundy leather jacket over a white top moves toward me. I get out of the car with my backpack and Bernard’s gun, pointing it at him.

“Are you Ali?” I demand, even though my hands are trembling.

“Yes, where is he?” He raises his hand in surrender.

“He’s hurt. He got shot, and he’s bleeding.”

“I can help. We need to get off the road and get him to my cabin.”

“Alright. I’ll drive.” I get back to the wheel and follow the red car straight to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a forest of trees.

The car stops in front of the house, and Ali gets out, moving toward my car. He unlocks the door and takes Bernard into his hands, muscles flexing as he supports his weight. Breathing heavily, he surges toward the entrance and kicks it in.

There’s a bed and a box of medical supplies waiting in the open living room. He was already aware of our predicament even before we arrived.

He places Bernard on the bed. “Get him naked.” He gives the order.

I toss my bag on the couch and place the gig bag carefully beside it. I get on the bed, pulling off Bernard’s suit jacket. I tear through his shirt, a quiet gasp leaving my lips when I see the tattoos on his chest. Not just that, but Ali’s name on his skin. Sharp, crooked letters done with the sharp edge of a blade. Then my eyes snap to the bullet wound pulsing with blood. “Check if there’s an exit wound.” He puts on disposable hand gloves.

I grunt and pull him over, seeing the bullet hole in his back.

“Yes, there’s one.”

“Check for a pulse.”

My hands fly to his neck, and the thrum of his vein stutters against my skin. “It’s steady.”

“Good.” He kneels on the bed and checks the exit wound first. He presses, and Bernard makes a muffled groan.

“Shh, my love.” He says. “You will be alright. I promise.” He looks up at me. “Get over here and give me the saline. White bottle.”