thirteen ◌ niall's bargain

✗

My father was truly an intelligent person. Growing up, he seemed to always be three steps ahead of my sister and I. Whenever we wanted to pull a prank, sneak out, or blatantly lie to his face concerning our whereabouts, dad already knew our plans and cultivated a flawless strategy to counter our endeavors. This fact still boded extremely well in the position I currently found myself in.

The architecture books with stunning, glossy photographs, and pages of historical facts about iconic cities around the world, sat on my bookshelf where I last left them. Nothing in my bedroom seemed to be out of place. It simply sat as is, like it were waiting for me to come home. The plush beanbag made with faux-fur invited me in, as it rested at the corner of the space where the window met the wall. I plopped down on the massive seat, and gazed at the collection of texts on the white bookshelf.

"What do these thumbtacks represent?" Harry bombarded my once peaceful space and scrutinized the framed world map on the wall. "I've known you for two years, and you have barely made it out of state, let alone out of the country."

"They're places I wish to visit before I die," I told him, slightly irritated. I kept my eyes glued to the books rather than the asshat in my room.

"You've got tacks on almost every major trans global city," Harry continued to comment. "What's up with the different colors."

The heavy exhale escaping my mouth dripped in unnecessary theatrics, but I couldn't just let go of the sass coursing through my veins.

"Based on its architecture and history, the pink thumbtacks are the number one places I absolutely must travel to," I explained, my ass still planted on the beanbag chair. "Then second, are the orange pushpins. The cities marked with purple tacks, are the places I wish to travel to but I'm not in dire need to."

Harry responded with an understanding nod of his head, and continued to quietly examine the other things in my room. As I searched for the specific books needed, Harry's hands meandered its way across the bedroom, and picked up random knick knacks on top of my desk or vanity. I let him be, however did stifle a laugh when Harry accidentally swiped a makeup brush specifically for my Fenty Beauty highlighter on his nose-- bad girl RiRi evidentially created a product that no one could eschew.

"What are you doing?" I stood up from the comfy seat, books in hand, to find Harry rummaging around in my desk drawers. The brown haired boy kept a perpetual gaze on the middle drawer, not once lifting his eyes as he explained himself.

"Looking for a stamp."

"And why, are you looking for a stamp?" I approached Harry, darting my eyes from the mess he created on my desk, to familiar gold band sitting on top of a green notebook. Picking up the ring, I examined it, running my fingers across the smooth surface.

Harry didn't answer right away, and instead scribbled something onto a piece of paper from my Sanrio stationery kit. The stamp he eventually found, was slapped onto the corner of the small package.

"I found the address of the officer who died last night," Harry snatched the ring from my fingers and gently placed it into a Hello Kitty envelope. "I want to send the ring off to his wife before we get too distracted."

I nodded my head in agreement, eyeing Harry with an understanding expression. It still bewildered my mind to think about what he did for that officer last night. How Harry took the guard's wedding ring and inquired his final words to his wife. My stomach churned chaotically from these thoughts, and I grew dizzy just thinking about it. Sitting on my bed for fear of collapsing, I looked up at Harry with anger and hurt in my eyes.

"I killed someone last night. The blood of three innocent cops are on my hands," I spoke lowly, my voice brimming with vigor. "That should've never happened."

"That was out of your control," Harry stated.

"One officer may have activated the bomb early but do I blame him?" I scoffed angrily. "He was only defending himself, and now his wife doesn't have someone to go home to. Do you understand how heart wrenching that feels?"

"Tash, listen to me," Harry kneeled down slightly so we were eye to eye. He held my shoulders beneath his warm hands and gave them a tight squeeze. "It sucks, I know, okay? I get how you feel. Their deaths are equally my responsibility as they are yours. But what did you expect going into this? That these missions would be a cakewalk and no one would get hurt."

"From now on, no one else gets hurt," I demanded, standing up from my bed. Harry's hands were back at the sides of his body. "It's one thing if it's us, but I refuse to put innocent people in the line of fire."

"You know that's a promise we can't keep."

"It's a promise I'm going to keep."

With the stack of architecture books in my arms, Harry and I strolled out of my room. I looked at the space I called my own for the last eight years of my life and mentally said goodbye. A cold chill prickled my skin, and despite the furnished room, it felt utterly empty and hollow the moment I unclaimed it. There was no telling if I'd ever be back; if I'd ever step through the threshold and leap onto my bed like I've done everyday for the past several years.

"You coming?" Harry called out from somewhere in my home.

"Yea," I breathed, grasping the silver door handle. With one last glum look, I closed the wooden barricade shut. This chapter of my life had officially ended, and each memory engraved into every inch of that room, became just that: a tribute to the sweet, simple life I unforgivingly took for granted.

The car ride back to Niall's took longer than expected due to the Los Angeles traffic from downtown to West Hollywood. This gave me ample time to recalibrate my emotions and move forward from last night's successful, yet tragic assignment. As I sat with my head resting in the palm of my hand, staring out the open window and periodically getting creeped out by old men in huge trucks hitting on me, the sound of something peculiar interweaved itself with normal city ambience.

Singing.

"My heart's like an open book, for the whole world to read. Sometimes nothing keeps me together, at the seams..."

My head slowly turned away from the stalled cars on the freeway, to the boy sitting next to me. Harry finger drummed against the steering wheel while bobbing his head along to the music playing on the radio. The golden strings of light snaking its way into the car, lit up Harry like an aura for the classic rock gods.

"Are you serious right now?" I questioned out loud, my lips lifting into a bemused grin. Noticing my gaze of wonderment, Harry's joyful jam faded into silence.

"What?"

"You were singing," I brought up with a smug glint in my eyes and a playful smirk engraved onto my face. "I didn't know you could sing. You're not that bad Mr. Bastos."

(translation: rude)

"Well don't expect me venture off to a karaoke bar with your aunties anytime soon," Harry grumbled in his seat, terminating the subject, and refusing to sing the rest of the car ride back.

When Harry and I bursted into Niall's apartment, the spirit that surged through our blood was addictive. Like an injection of speed into my veins, I felt an arctic chill detonate in my soul. Figuring out how to crack my dad's codes only energized us, so after retrieving the books needed to decrypt the cipher, we wasted no time in doing so. With the four important postcards laid out on the table, along with their corresponding text, we each delved into a country.

"Alright New Orleans," I whispered, the glossy book sitting on my lap. I looked at the numbers on the back of the correlating postcard and began deciphering. "Page one-fifteen... line twenty-five... word number six."

"What'd you find?" Niall asked, peering into my work. He sat next to me with the book for Douala, Cameroon resting on his thighs.

"Prime," I answered with a grin. "Someone research the word 'Prime' in New Orleans, Louisiana."

"I'm on it," Harry grabbed the laptop on the table and began a primary search. "Got it. Prime Corp in New Orleans is one of the oldest, yet top of the line banks in the South."

"Damn," I breathed, falling back against the couch cushions with an expression I wasn't sure had etched onto my face.

"You okay?" Niall gazed at me with wonder. "You figured out the first bank. Why do you look so morose?"

"Not morose— just overwhelmed," I corrected, looking back at Niall with a shrug. "My dad has been sending me these books and postcards for years. I always believed it to be thoughtful gifts, not apparatuses to encase clues."

"What'd you expect, Tasha? Your dad hired Hex to train you how to be a fucking ninja turtle since you were six," Liam indicated with a smirk.

"I guess it's time to see the truth," I glanced at Harry, who was already eyeing me with a sobering stare. Looking back at Niall and Liam, I finalized the plans, "I think we should head out to New Orleans ASAP and scope out the bank before we infiltrate."

"Way ahead of you," Liam announced. "I've booked our plane tickets. Our flight leaves at 6AM tomorrow."

"Teka— hold on," I raised my hand. "How the hell are we able to afford plane tickets and sleeping arrangements outside of our homes?"

(translation: wait)

The boys did the thing again. You know, staring at one another and mentally holding a conversation while I sat in awkward silence. I knew I couldn't stop their telepathic bromance from happening, so I let out an exhale and rested my face into the palm of my hand.

"Sorry," Niall apologized, shrugging his left shoulder with slight guilt. "To answer your question, think of it as a company credit card. We can swipe the card and use the money in it for important things as long as it pertains to the business."

"Hmm," I squinted my eyes with suspicion and pursed my lips. "And where is the money coming from?"

"Where do you think it's coming from?" Harry questioned.

My dad, of course.

Am I even that surprised? My dad thought of everything; he had a solution to problems I didn't think were at all possible. Solutions to any issue except the most important one: a kidnapping.

The next several hours consisted of pizza, and studying Prime Corp. Niall took care of security. He examined the bank's blueprints, and fabricated a system to get us in and out without anyone knowing. Liam was the muscle, creating an apprehending strategy to keep guards out of our path. Harry, like the first task, would literally be my partner in crime. His expertise in electrical engineering gave us the edge to successfully break into my father's vault, while his proficient chemistry knowledge brought a specially crafted tonic to destroy the cash without destroying us.

Because we had to be on a plane in six hours, it was decided that a few hours of sleep would be best to regenerate ourselves. As I prepared myself for slumber, I looked at the large bulletin board on Niall's bedroom wall opposite of his bed. Tacked on the cork, was everything from concert ticket stubs, photographs, and a banner from UCLA. For the second time today, my heart hurt thinking about Niall.

"Did you see our photo?"

"Huh?"

"Our photo," Niall stood at the open bathroom door, steam drifting from the space behind him. He rubbed the glasses in his hands against his shirt before resting the specs on the bridge of his nose. Fitted in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white shirt, he strolled over to me smelling like a spring day.

"We have a picture on here?" I questioned, shifting my focus back onto the bulletin board in search for our printed memory.

"Right here," Niall pointed to a cluster of photographs on the left side of the board. Next to it, was an elegant invitation to my 18th birthday.

"From my Debut," I giggled. Displayed on the cork, were glossy pictures from the party's photo booth. We looked real fancy that day— me in my luxurious gown, and Niall in his suit.

(translation: filipino coming of age party, similar to a sweet 16 or quinceanera)

"That was my first and hopefully not last Filipino party," Niall commented with glee. "Your aunties loved me— they kept wanting to feed me."

I laughed loudly, "yes, I remember. They even packed you a plate of left overs to take home."

"Thanks for letting me be a part of this special memory with you," Niall gushed.

"Of course," I threw my arms around Niall's neck, standing at the tips of my toes to reach him. It was a pleasant feeling to be in his arms like this, because on any other day before my life turned to shit, he and I would be sparring across a padded floor mat.

"Why do I feel like you've got a heavy heart?" With a gloomy sigh, Niall separated us from the embrace to look at me with narrowed brows.

"It's nothing," I dismissed, turning away from Niall and walking to the bed.

"Oh come on, I know you're lying. What's up? You know you can talk to me about anything. I have your back," Niall promised.

"That's the problem," I confessed, plopping down onto the bed. Niall cocked his head to the side in confusion. "You have this whole life in front of you."

I paused, gesturing for Niall's colorful board of recollection.

"You're supposed to graduate next month," I continued, looking at the blonde-haired boy with guilt. "You're supposed to do great things. What happens if you fail during this mission? How can I possibly live with myself?"

"I knew what I signed up for," Niall sat on the bed next to me. He took my hand in his and squeezed it in support. His words reminded me of Harry's, which only prodded my mind with a sum of questions.

"May I ask you a personal question?" I asked with caution.

"Yea, go for it," Niall opened up the conversation.

"How did you meet Professor Dela Cruz?" I questioned.

Niall stayed silent, his focus fixated on me as his thoughts dwelled deeply in his core. He was trying to figure out the words to string together, because whether he expected it or not, my inquiry ignited some dark memories to resurface.

"When I told you that I was hired by Dela Cruz, I was lying," Niall admitted. He hung his head low for a moment, shame washing over him.

"Was it Hex who appointed your services?"

"No, it was your dad."

My face fell into smooth lines before my mouth fell open from the initial impact of Niall's words. However, I had a strong feeling that this was only the start of an outpour of a jarring disclosure.

"What deal did you make with my dad?" I questioned.

Niall let out a heavy breath, "I was a shit head of a kid. Intelligent, talented in martial arts, but an ass wipe. I was living in Ireland at the time when I ravaged around town doing stupid shit. All my crimes lead to getting my acceptance into Uni revoked."

"Then what? My dad swooped in and put you through school in exchange to donate your blood," I guessed.

"Something like that, yea," Niall nodded. "I was sitting in a jail cell after a bar fight. Your dad saw that fight, was impressed with a shit head kid and bailed me out. Not only did he offer me a job working under Dela Cruz and Hex, but a chance to eradicate my record."

"It's safe to say you took the bargain," I predicted.

"Two weeks later I received an acceptance letter to UCLA, and a voucher to purchase a one way plane ticket to Los Angeles," Niall confirmed. His face had a perpetual expression of remorse, and it made me wonder if he regret his decision to to make deals with my dad.

Niall's life would've been so different if he just walked away from my father. Yet on the other end of the spectrum, there was me. If this bright eyed, eternal ray of sunshine didn't play the game of exchange, then I never would've had him in my life.

"Thanks for being honest with me," I cooed.

"You deserve at least that," Niall opened his arms wide with a charming smile, and I wasted not another second before descending into his embrace.

Chest to chest, I hugged Niall tightly, resting my chin on his shoulder. As much as I wanted him to ditch this entire mission; to abandon me and this fucked up line of work, I was glad to have him by my side.

Continuing to relish in this sweet, simple moment, I felt an odd prickling against my skin. When I fluttered my eyes open, I caught the gaze of Harry. His green eyes, fueled with murkiness, peered through the crack of the slightly agape door. I almost didn't notice him, as his all black attire blended into the surrounding darkness. But it was the sliver of golden light from the bedroom that caused the iris of his right eye to glow.

"Let's try to get some sleep," Niall proposed as we both disjointed from each other's arms.

"Good idea," I agreed with pleasure. "I'm exhausted."

My eyes swept past Niall's head to take a peek into the hallway, but where Harry once stood, he no longer existed. I pushed the unusual moment to the back of my mind before pushing myself beneath the blanket to fling myself into a well-deserved rest. It didn't take long till the bedroom lights shut off, Niall's snores to fill my ears, and for me to drift soundly asleep.

My dreams were still the same.

I was starting to adapt to the eerie routine. That same, happy memory in my mother's bakery haunted me as I slept. It was sweet as I slumbered, but horrifying when I woke. And at 4AM that morning, my eyes opened to the darkness and nonexistent warmth of my mother's hug. I couldn't fall back to sleep, and with my alarm due to ring in thirty minutes, I decided to just start the day early.

My bare feet padded against the carpeted floors as I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. I stifled a yelp as my foot came in contact with a misplaced history textbook, and almost found myself tumbling to the ground. Snarling at the heavy academic book, I shoved it off to the side with my big toe before continuing my trudge through the living room.

"Wish you guys were always this peaceful," I quietly spoke to myself, my eyes lingering on Liam and Harry who looked like absolute angels as they slept. Yes, including ass hat Harry.

As I hung out in the dark kitchen, ebbing my dry throat with cold water, I noticed the bright glow of Harry's laptop. I strolled right over to the boy who was passed out on the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. The open computer sat on his lap, the screen casting an illumination on Harry's scowl-free face. Despite the small frown of his pink lips as he slept, he looked incredibly serene. But I knew the second he woke up, it'd only be turmoil, fueled by whatever it is that made him tick.

I reached my arm forward to close the laptop in consideration to conserve battery life, but as I did, my eyes caught the interface of his email account. It wasn't Gmail, Yahoo, or even the school-issued one, instead it was some peculiar HTML-coded poxy. I should've just minded my own business, but let's be real— if curiosity killed the cat, then I held the gun.

Harry,
It's good to hear from you. It's been too long. Unfortunately, I've been blacklisted from the family following my trial. Hope you have better luck: 339-415-0109.

If you ever find yourself in Paris, I'm with Grandma Mary. Don't be a stranger.

◌ ◌ ◌

» author's note «

Happy New Year's Eve or Happy 2018 for those who are living in the future :)

May the new year bring you joy, prosperity, and all the charm needed to make your dreams come true. For those of you who have been part of my Wattpad journey since the beginning, or if you just jumped in today, thanks for coming along and riding shotgun! Here's to a wonderful 2018.

xoxo, Audrey Eve