Having no answers for him, I gulped thickly. His questions and accusations hurt more than they should have. I had no recollection of leaving him. My world was a blank sheet of paper before Mick filled it with the ink of his existence. Everything since the very first time I laid eyes on him drew me towards him like a moth to fire. The closer I got, the more I burned, and now my executioner was asking me why I had hurt him. He hated my silence, but what else could I offer him? I was ashamed of my actions. If I knew then what I do now, would I have played my part so well? 

No one truly knew the Carltons. Not really. From the outside, they seemed perfect; the phrase: 'squeaky clean' came to mind, but there was more to them than met the eye, or so The Watchtower, an organization that kept tabs on the rich, thought. It had come to their attention that the Carltons were not as clean as they showed the world after receiving a tip-off that Mr. Maurice Carlton, Mick's father, was the man behind Poloum City's most feared mafia gang. He earned a living through loan sharking and money laundering. That's where I had come in. 

Waking up in the hospital bed broken, bruised, and with no recollection of who I was, two of my colleagues visited me shortly after I was allowed visitors. 

"Your last mission fucked you up good, Rea," the man who called himself Jora had said. 

"Don't worry, we will fix you up," the other, younger man called Mix added, offering a pat on my back. "You know we never abandon our own, don't you?"

Jora had glared at him. "Mix, he has amnesia. I doubt he remembers our code if he can't even recall who he is!"

"Bonds forge, roots entwine, blossoms together, family mine." My brain coughed up a statement that had been swimming in my head since regaining consciousness. 

"Freaking hell, R! Welcome back." Mix had squealed, moving in for a hug, but stopped abruptly when Jora shook his head.

"R, is your memory fixed?" Jora leaned in, his eyes intense, hopeful. 

"I still can't recall who I am… where I am,"—Glancing around, I continued—"or who you guys are."

"Dammit, R!" Mix whined, plopping on the couch and lying across my bed. 

Jora smiled. "It's alright. At least you remember the code that we live by." He patted my shoulder. "I promise, you will be good as new soon."

My road to recovery was long and intense, but it was worth it. It felt like I had gotten a second chance at life. Shortly after, Jora handed me my next assignment: to infiltrate the Carlton family and gather intel on them without leaving anything out.

"R, from this day forward, you are Robert Pierce, who was in an accident. After regaining consciousness, you realized that you had amnesia and could recall nothing about yourself. You found yourself in a dark cell, continuously questioned about the Carltons. Obviously, you had no answers for them. This went on for almost a year until finally today, you got a chance to escape; you took it by incapacitating a distracted guard."

"That's a fuck-ton of information you dumped on me just now. How am I going to remember all that?" I had complained to Jora, who had made a disappointed face and handed me a file. "It's all in this file. Prepare yourself, brother, for tomorrow at four, we will rough you up a little, and you will run… Escape from this place like your life depends on it. You can read the rest. It's all in there." With that, my friend for the past year had hugged me and whispered, "I hope when I see you next, it will not be as strangers." His face turned to stone when he stepped away. "Remember, my friend, ‘Bonds forge, roots entwine, blossoms together, family mine.’ It's a code we live by. If you betray us, our bond will break and you will blossom no more. You continue to live because you are family; without our bond, you are no longer so. Do you understand?”

That was the last I had seen of Jora. In fact, since that day, I had communicated with The Watchtower with nothing but texts and monosyllabic calls. 

"Have you heard anything I have said so far!?"

Mick's question brimmed with poorly concealed rage. I couldn't afford to stay silent anymore. "I wanted to come clean, remember? You stopped me."

"What?" Something in his eyes told me that I had indeed not heard anything he had been saying.

What the fuck is wrong with me!? 

"You are an ass, you know that? Actually, you are a bigger asshole than Miles!"

Well, that hurt. "Listen, Mick,"—I grabbed him by his shoulder—"I promise, I will explain everything. For now, though, all I can do is apologize for calling you stupid. Still, telling Miles about the hideaway was not wise. The fewer people know where we are, the easier it will be to hide. And if God forbid, we get in trouble again, I will have one less person to protect. You are my priority. If Miles follows you to Vas Villa and we are attacked, I will not look out for him, at least, not until I am a hundred percent sure that you are safe. Do you understand?"

"Wait, so you got pissed at me because you think Miles will double your burden if he shows up at Uncle's place?"

Oh, my innocent boy! "Yes." I lied. As much as Mick trusted him, I couldn't rule him out of my suspect list.

I glanced at my watch. It was past six. We were supposed to be at Vas Villa by five-thirty. The sun had already hidden behind the horizon, leaving dusk to turn the sky a beautiful shade of pink. It was a perfect evening for camping. 

"Fine, I will accept that excuse for now, and Mick, it was stupid of me to share the deets of our whereabouts so casually. I wasn't thinking, I guess." Waving his thumbs, he asked, "Are we good?"

I bobbed my head; Mick's face relaxed into an easy smile. "God knows how much time we might have to spend at the villa. How about we go camping in Trinity Woods tomorrow?"

"Sure," I agreed and climbed onto the bike. Mick resumed his place behind me, holding on to me like a koala bear would a tree. "We will be there soon. And if Miles is ready to greet us there, we will put on a show he will never forget."

Mick chuckled as I started the bike. "You promise?"

"Yes, boss!" I replied, meaning every word of it. 

Five minutes later, we were at Vas Villa. It was my first time here. Mick had mentioned a couple of years ago that Vas Villa was where Rob had met Maria for the first time, and the youngsters had fallen in love, but since I wasn't the man who had irrevocably fallen in love with the lady of the house, all of it was new to me. 

Though the sun had already left us for the day, making it difficult to admire the property's beauty, it was apparent that the place was cared for. The garden boasted white and blue roses and wild jasmine along with other tropical flowering plants. Oh, some medicinal ones too! 

"Wow, I didn't know Uncle had taken such good care of it," Mick observed, walking a few paces ahead of me. "See something you like?" he asked, turning and walking back to join me. 

"These plants—"

"Oh, these"—Mick crouched next to the one closest to me—"you planted these." Something akin to hope shone in his blue eyes. "Do you remember something?"

I shook my head. If only I were Rob… If only I could remember things Mick obviously wanted me to, wouldn't it have been something? "Sorry, I don't. It's just that I remember reading about them somewhere. They are used as anesthetics by the locals to perform small surgeries."

"Oh." Mick's nod was as unenthusiastic as I was about spending time with Mr. Vas. Moreover, this wasn't the time to sample the flora. I had the whole of tomorrow and probably the day after to do it. 

"It's getting dark. I will check them out tomorrow. Let's go inside, shall we?"

That brought a relieved smile to Mick's pink, plush lips. "Yes. Let's," he said, practically dragging me towards our olive green two-story accommodation for the night. 

*****
[Chapter word count: 1449]