There were things they didn't speak about, things they couldn't bear to approach, as if by doing so the illusion in which they lived would evaporate. They were still so new, the relationship still in its infancy. No one wanted to be the person to ruin it so early on with a little thing like the truth. The truth that even without the unlawful undertakings associated with Willa's name, there was still the name itself that made her untouchable. And despite the fact that Layke had gone to bat for Willa, risking her career in order to keep her out of jail for Ambrisi's murder, to the di Blasio clan she would forever be a cop – an eternal enemy. Layke's father would never accept Willa, and Willa's family would never accept Layke. That the two women had found a way to accept each other, in spite of all of this, was remarkable.
Layke caught the florist just in time, before she shut up shop for the evening. She'd left work and driven like a mad woman in order to make it. Tonight she would give Willa a key. Dustin's old one – to be used whenever she wanted, as often as she wanted, not just in emergencies.
“I was just about to close up,” the florist said, a white-haired lady of about seventy, with a friendly face and a graceful shuffle of a walk. She cut the dozen roses and prepared them for Layke.
“I know. I'm glad I caught you.”
“Someone special waiting for you at home?”
Layke nodded, then smiled brightly at the thought. Tonight she would spend the night at Willa's place, which was always risky owing to the amount of people who stopped by unannounced. But she welcomed the change of scenery.
Layke went to pay but the lady shook her head. “On the house.”
“I couldn't.”
“Sure you can.” She smiled.
There was probably some stupid law against her accepting anything on the house, due to her profession, but she figured turning the gesture down would have been impolite. So she thanked the lady, took her roses and left. As she walked to her car, a man stepped out of the back seat of the black Bentley parked behind her. He had the type of rugged look and strut of someone with a lot of influence but very little modesty.
“Nice roses,” he said. “You're going to make someone smile tonight.”
“That's the plan.” She didn't intend to stop and make smalltalk with this stranger.
“You're a friend of Willa's, no?” he said to her before she could climb into her car.
Her heart stopped. She looked at him warily. “Who's asking?”
He offered her a cheeky smile. “A friend of Willa's.”
“Excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” Layke said, trying to put as much distance between her and this man as she could, sensing that his presence didn't mean anything positive. She couldn't make out his accent; foreign was the best guess she had.
“Of course. If you do see Willa, tell her her friend from Armenia says hi.”
A sense of doom washed over her as she watched the man jump back into his car and depart. He'd seen her badge, she was certain of it. Whoever he was he wasn't on her side of the law. A shiver ran down her spine.
Show no fear or weakness. He's like a dog – he'll smell it on you. Willa swallowed back her mounting trepidation as she tried to give herself a pep talk. In reality the talk was useless. He had her right where he wanted her. She wondered how long he'd been watching them, how long he'd known about Layke. It must have begun after she ended their agreement. Almost two weeks. They'd been followed for almost two weeks and neither of them had noticed. Love had made them careless, less vigilant than they once were. There was always a downside to it.
She got to the end of the street and saw the black Bentley. The back door opened as soon as she appeared. Cautiously she stepped inside.
“I'm hoping you have a better attitude now. Third time lucky, maybe?” Bedrosian said, as self-satisfied and slimy as he always was.
“What do you want?”
“It makes sense now why you said you would never have a husband. A lot of things make a lot of sense now.”
“I said what do you want?” This time her teeth were even more clenched, her tone even more acrid, murderous.
“Nothing unreasonable. Just what we agreed on before.”
Willa shook her head. “We're out of that business. I told you.”
“And I told you it doesn't work like that!” In the blink of an eye his whole persona changed, as though he had been replaced by his evil, long-lost twin. His black eyes were hard and callous, his voice monstrous, making her jump out of her skin. A psycho with a good-looking face. She'd known there was something off about him from the word go. “I own you. People don't terminate arrangements with me, I'm the only one who terminates anything.”
The ball in her throat wouldn't budge no matter how hard she swallowed. She was sitting in a car with a madman who could have snapped her neck with one hand, judging by the size of his hands and arms. She didn't think that ball would ever move.
And as if by magic, the maniacal side vanished, once more replaced by the less psychotic Yeznik Bedrosian that she knew and despised. A man with two-faces, both of them despicable.
“Tell me, what would your family think if they knew that the redhead whore you share your bed with is a cop? And what would her cop friends say if they knew all the dirty things she was doing with you?” He grinned. “Now my men and I, we think it's beautiful, two women... What's not to like, huh? But not everyone will think like us. And these things have a way of getting out. Then again, people also have a way of disappearing... It's really your choice.”
The disgust she felt manifested itself in a scowl that she shot Bedrosian's way. “You leave her out of this. Your beef is with me.”
“My beef, as you say, is with the person who is preventing me from making money.”
“Look, fine, whatever. We'll do what you want. Just leave Layke alone.”
Bedrosian chuckled. “I knew I could get you to change your mind.” She went to step out of the car but felt his hand restrain her by the wrist. “I didn't say you could leave.”
Her heart sank despite the fact that she'd anticipated this – the price rising. When Layke had told her about the encounter outside the flower shop, and she'd eventually called to arrange a meeting with him, she'd known his demands would be high. With a man like Yeznik Bedrosian, you could almost guarantee that the cost of doing business with him would skyrocket once he had you in his palms.
“I have a shipment arriving in a couple of days that I'll need to store somewhere until my men can find a more suitable, permanent location for it.”
“What sort of shipment?” She didn't like the sound of this at all.
“You don't need to know any of that. What you do need to know is that it's very valuable. If anything were to happen to it I'd...” He buttoned his jacket for effect. “Well, let's hope you never have to find out.”
“You expect us to hold a shipment without knowing what's inside it, for an undetermined length of time?”
“Yes, I do,” he said simply. “You know why, Miss di Blasio? Because you don't have a choice.”
He was still cackling when she exited the vehicle, she could hear it as she walked away. Now she knew what it felt like to make a deal with the devil: you could only ever lose.
But Willa had never been good at losing. “Get used to losing, you'll do it all the time,” her father used to say. She'd learned to discard much of her father's so-called “wisdom” since making it official with Layke, but she recalled this little nugget of advice at the right time.
She still had one move, one play left, though it was the last resort. Calling on the people her family had always seen as enemies may have been the only way to get out of this deal unscathed.
As soon as she got home she called Guy.
“If only we never had to leave this spot,” Willa said, her head resting on Layke's stomach as Layke stroked her hair, comforting her. This apartment, this bed, these arms, she never wanted to leave any of them. She squeezed her tighter as though if she let her go she would never feel her again.
“Is that your way of saying you want to move in?” Layke joked.
“It's my way of saying I love you, Layke Owen, and whatever happens I'll never stop.”
“Hey, look at me.” Layke sat her up so they could see each other, apprehension making Layke frown. “Nothing's going to happen. As soon as you hear back from your brother about what's in the container, I'll put a call through to my colleagues. Everything will work out.”
Willa was too much of a realist – some would say pessimist – to share in her girlfriend's optimism. She'd seen enough to know that plans rarely went smoothly; the more moving parts involved, the higher the chance for mishaps.
“I just want to be happy,” she said, and felt her nose running. Now wasn't the time to cry.
Layke stroked her cheek, gave her a reassuring smile. “And you will. We both will.”
All she had to do was believe her. Those big green eyes never lied, hadn't let her down, had loved her and meant it. If she would believe anyone it would be Layke. But... she couldn't. The feeling that swelled in the pit of her stomach, that feeling of dread, just wouldn't shift.
“What if–”
Layke pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. “No what ifs. Your men know when the shipment arrives in the docks. Once their contact creates a distraction, they'll have enough time to check the container. Then my guys will cut Bedrosian's men off en route. Simple.”
It was far from simple, and there were many what ifs. She opened her mouth to say but, a word which, she suspected, would have also been met with a finger to the lips, when her cell phone buzzed. She snatched it up off the bedside table, only catching a glimpse of the caller I.D.
“All right, we've just seen Bedrosian's men.” It was hard to miss the excitement in Guy's voice, even with the noisy sounds of the docks in the background. “I'm about to take a look inside while our contact stalls them with some paperwork.” Then he proceeded to hum the Mission Impossible theme music.
Willa rolled her eyes. Her hands were shaking with fear while he was humming with excitement. “Where are Ghost and Asher?”
“Right beside me.”
“All right. Just keep me on the line.”
“Sure.” He resumed humming, before adding, “Hey, sis, remember that weird crush you had on Tom Cruise when you first watched that movie?”
Willa's face filled with color when she saw Layke, who had obviously heard, mouth “Tom Cruise? Eww.”
“It wasn't a real crush. I was going through a straight phase.” She couldn't help but laugh. “I was ten years old, for God's sake. How do you even remember that?”
He chuckled. “The guys are laughing at you by the way. I store everything embarrassing to be used again at a later date.”
“Asshole!” she said with affection. She heard muffled conversation in the background, then heard Guy respond. That was the last thing she heard before the line went dead.
“What happened?” Layke questioned.
“I don't know. The reception must be bad.” Even though she said it, she sensed something more sinister was at play. “I don't like this, Layke. What if Bedrosian's men spotted them?”
“I'm sure it's fine.” She rubbed Willa's arm in an act of support, but despite the brave face she put on, worry penetrated through. She added, “I could call my team now, but it could destroy the whole thing. It's totally up to you.”
“We'll wait. If we don't hear back from them in half an hour, we can put through an anonymous call to your guys.”
So passed the longest thirty minutes of Willa's life, passed without incident, without a word from her brother or her two men. Panic set in five minutes into the wait; it reached a resounding peak on the thirtieth minute. Something was definitely wrong.
She dragged on her clothes.
“Willa, where are you going?” Layke asked, panicked.
“To find my brother.”
Layke knew she couldn't have stopped her if she'd tried. That resolve on her face, in her voice – she doubted there was anyone on Earth who could have stopped Willa. She jumped out of bed. “All right, but I'm coming with you.” She received no objections to her tagging along, nor to her fetching her gun from the drawer. As the only one among them with a weapon, she surmised that her presence was needed.
They took Willa's car, breaking the speed limit more than once and even running a red light.
“Honey, slow down,” Layke advised, gripping onto the door handle while the convertible sped along the road.
Willa didn't respond. She didn't take her eyes off the road, didn't look over at her girlfriend to see how petrified she was. Worrying about Guy had exhausted all of her attention. Only once she found him, safe, would she be able to concentrate on everything else.
She almost went crashing into the truck when she turned onto a new street. She hit the brake just in time and the car skidded to a stop only inches away from the side of the truck.
They stepped out of the car. The truck had clearly been abandoned, left in the middle of the road to create all kinds of hazards. The doors were wide open.
“Stay back.” Layke stepped in front of Willa, her gun raised as she led the way to check out the back, the cop in her taking over, even though she felt like she would faint from the blood rushing to her head, or keel over from a heart attack.
“Police. Come out with your hands up,” she shouted, shoulder against the truck door, hands grasping tightly to her gun. Several feet behind her Willa continued to obey orders, knowing that she was useless without a weapon of her own.
Nothing stirred. No sound came from the truck.
As soon as she stepped out, gun pointed inside the truck, her stomach did somersaults. She grabbed onto the metal door lever for support. “Oh, dear God.” Whatever had once been inside the container was long gone, replaced by something else.
“What is it?” Willa came rushing over, but Layke restrained her.
“Willa, honey, I need you to stay back, all right? Please.”
It was no use. Willa could see the look in her face, that hopeless look. She shoved her out of the way and peered inside the truck, into the shipping container. Her scream was deafening, bloodcurdling, as it erupted from the deepest depths of her soul. She scrambled to get into the truck, weeping and shaking her head, over and over, her vision blurry from the tears. But not blurry enough to change the scene. As she cradled Guy's lifeless body in her arms, his blood from the multiple bullet wounds soaked her clothes and shoes, seeped into the filthy piles of rags on the container floor.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered, letting her tears fall over her brother's face. He was still warm when she pressed her face to his. “I'm so sorry.”
It was time to call it in.
It was five in the morning by the time Layke brought her back home. Her clothes were still drenched in her brother's blood, and the spaced out look she'd had in her eye when Layke pulled her away from the corpse was still present. She stripped her and put her in the shower, receiving no resistance, no acknowledgment whatsoever from Willa. She scrubbed all traces of blood from her, and then dried her off and dressed her.
“Baby, say something to me,” she said, when she could no longer take the silence.
“He's gone. He's really gone.” Willa turned to look at her, as if seeing her for the first time since it had happened. “He's never coming back.”
“I know, baby, but you'll get through this. And we'll get Bedrosian–”
“I don't want to get through it!” she snapped. “I want him to suffer. Suffer the way Guy did. There was so much blood. So many bullets...” Tears rolled down her face at an unstoppable pace. “I need to call Trent, he needs to know what happened, what Bedrosian did. We might still be able to do something to save Ghost and Asher.” She searched around manically for her cell phone, and when she couldn't find it, forgetting that it was in Layke's bag, she started tossing things across the room, anything she could find, like a woman possessed.
“Honey, listen to me,” Layke said, her voice calm. “I think there's something you need to know about your brother Trent.”
Now she had Willa's full attention, though she didn't like that rabid look in her eyes. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tell her what she'd learned.
“What?”
“Was Trent there the day in the warehouse? With the Italians?”
“Yes. Why?”
“What about Ghost and Asher? Were they with him?”
Willa nodded slowly. “Why?” she demanded again.
“Just before the FBI took the case away, we found the same bullets in Brad Gunner's back that we found in the Italians. The autopsy report showed that the two in the front, the ones done with the Italians' guns, were done postmortem... after he was already dead. After the Italians were already dead...”
Willa blinked at her. “What are you saying, Layke?”
“I'm saying it was friendly fire that killed your guy, not the Italians. And someone tried to make it look like Ambrisi's men killed him.”
Willa shook her head, sitting down slowly on the edge of the bed. “No, he wouldn't. Trent's ambitious, and he's a jerk, but... he wouldn't... he couldn't... And Ghost and Asher, they've always been loyal...”
“An old friend from uni works at the FBI. He says they have reason to believe that someone in your organization was involved with the shooting in the park, and with the Cuban murders, maybe even Ambrisi's death... Honey, I think your brother set this whole thing up.”
When Willa began to cry again, Layke knew it was because she believed everything. She had, in effect, lost two brothers in the same night. Sometimes crying was all a person could do when everything was gone. But she, Layke, was still there. And at first, when she tried to hold her bawling girlfriend, she was met with a struggle. Willa finally gave in, broke down, and let herself be comforted.
“I'm here, honey,” Layke whispered, kissing her head as she cradled her. “I'm not going anywhere.”