Paradise Falling (ONC 2024)

3 -- Complications

This chapter is dedicated to elveloy who has been a veteran ONC participant (she participated in every single one with several wins/honorary mentions) and her entry Time Agent already promises to keep up with the best. Vera's specialty are Sci-Fi thrillers with strong leads, unique voices, and mind blowing plot twist. Go and check it out.

Drogheda, Ireland

February 2024

~~~~

With the muffin bag tucked under my chin and the teacup in my hand, I slide into the passenger side of the rented Ford Focus.

Anton squints sleepily at me from behind the wheel. "And? Did she take the bait?"

"I'm sure she did. She'll show up tonight."

"I hope so." He stares gloomily into the rain. "I hate this fucking weather."

"The wind is the worst. My umbrella snapped just walking the short distance to the café, and I stepped into a puddle on my way back, so my shoes are drenched."

He grumbles "better you than me" under his breath and I roll my eyes.

Fucking moron.

Setting the teacup in the holder, I toss him the bag with the muffin. "Here, I got you something."

"What's that?"

"Blueberry muffin."

He wrinkles his nose. "You know I'm not a fan of blueberries."

"Don't be brat and eat what I feed you."

"And why should you get the coffee? I'm fucking jet lagged and have to drive." He leans over in an attempt to snatch the cup right from under my nose, but I beat him to it.

"It's chai tea, but you are more than welcome to have some if you ask nicely."

"Fuck no, and you're taking this health craze too far. No caffeine, no booze, no cigarettes. What's the fun in living if you can't have any of that?" He drops his head against the seat with a sigh.

Silence falls over the car as I help myself to the spurned muffin, washing it down with the tea. The quality of the stuff is actually quite good and can measure up with my favorite breakfast joints in New York. The rain is relentless, pelting onto the roof of the car in a steady rhythm that doesn't ease up.

"So what was your first impression of her?"

"Okay, I guess, though she has a photo of her dead kid hanging right there on the wall, which made it a little awkward."

"Seriously?"

"With a black ribbon and a rosary. It's almost like a shrine."

He quirks a brow. "I didn't know she's that religious."

"All Irish people are religious. It's part of their DNA."

"And if faith is what gets her through the day, good for her. It's tragic what happened to the kid. And to witness it, too." He turns his head. "Do you feel bad about it?"

Fuck, yeah. If someone hurt my son, I'd feed him to a pack of wolves. Literally. "Nico went against orders. He shouldn't have messed with the boy."

"You can't blame him for wanting to make sure. He thought the bitch was lying through her teeth to protect her husband."

"I know, but Nico didn't have to shoot the kid. Threatening her that he'd harm him is one thing, but then actually pulling the trigger. That's sick. He went too far."

"Under normal circumstances, I'd agree, but you weren't there."

"And neither were you." I take the last swig of the tea and toss the empty cup into the backseat. "Besides, what's done is done. Nothing will bring the boy back, so it's pointless to talk about it."

Anton straightens in his seat. "There she is. She must have closed the café early. Should—"

His last words bounce off me as my attention is drawn to a text message on my phone. Nico sent a thumbs down.

Fuck.

Murphy must be playing hardball and I don't feel like driving to Dublin in this shitty weather to straighten him out. For once, I wanted to put up my feet and watch some TV, maybe even get a massage before meeting Chelsea at the pub.

Anton squeezes my arm. "Bastian, you listening? I asked if you want me to follow the girl."

I raise my finger to shush him and write a hasty text message back.

Can U handle?

Nico's reply is almost instantaneous. Another thumbs down.

I glance at Chelsea's car turning left on Dyer Street. "Nah, she's driving home. Probably shook up about the note."

"Okay, are we going back to the hotel then?"

"We can't. Nico is having some issue with Murphy, so we need to get down to Dublin asap."

Anton groans. "I'm fucking tired."

"C'mon, let's go. The faster we take care of Murphy, the faster your whiny pussy-ass can take a nap."

"Fine," he grumbles. Turning on the blinker, he merges into traffic, just to whip the car to the left when he almost hits oncoming traffic. "This driving on the wrong side of the road is fucking nuts. Who came up with that?"

I smirk. "Aren't you full of complaints today?"

"Ha, I want to see you driving in this shit."

Not happening. Being a chauffeur is below my pay grade.

For a breath, he takes his eyes off the road and glances at me. "What if the girl blows you off tonight?

"Don't worry, she won't."

"And the mother? She is old and frail. What if Chelsea doesn't want to leave her? I mean, she is the only close family she has left."

"Don't." I pinch the bridge of my nose to fight a sudden stab in my head. "This is the best lead we had on Marcel Pierce in six years, and I'm not going to let him slip through my fingers again. Chelsea will help us, and if the mom truly becomes an issue"—I stare out the window into the pouring rain—"then we'll just have to take her out."

Total WP Word Count: 2,538 (first milestone met)

So this was Bastian, our second narrator, and even though her clearly comes off here as the villain, there is another layer to him he keeps well hidden. Now to the chapter: did the ending made you want to turn the page. Please let me know in the comments and a vote would make my day. Thanks for much for reading and giving Paradise Falling a chance.