Lacy waits for Rogelio and me by the front door, twisting the handle of a feather duster nervously between both hands. “I’ll see you later.”
I kiss her cheek. “Take the time to think about what you’ll do next. Places you’ve always wanted to travel to, maybe?”
“I’ve got a binder.”
That makes me grin. “Of course you do. I can’t wait to see it.”
Rogelio holds the door open for me, and we step into the elevator vestibule. He looks at the two men stationed there. “Fix the CCTV. I was never here. She never left.”
They nod, and one breaks off for the utility closet.
“Tuck your braid into your shirt,” Rogelio tells me, looking me over again. “And put the hat on.”
I do as he says. “Better?”
“Hardly.” He pushes the button to call the car. “I wish you’d let me handle this.”
“No one else would make it out alive.”
He says nothing further until we’ve made it through the parking garage and are on our way in a rental van with switched plates. The car that hit me had switched plates, too. But that’s just a coincidence. There’s no way it could be anything else.
“Here’s where we’re at so far,” Rogelio says grimly, his eyes on the road. “The reservation for lunch is at twelve-thirty. Laska texted Amy earlier to confirm. That message came to the clone, and I replied. I told Clarice I’d won a lunch for two at a restaurant in the general direction of the meet-up. Today’s the expiration date, and I can’t make it, so she’s taking Amy. My tracker on Amy’s phone will let me know if they deviate. If Amy’s followed, they’ll think she’s en route for up to half an hour. It buys us some time – but not much.”
Remotely accessing Baharan files requires installing proprietary security software on the device. Rogelio managed that installation for all of the Armands, and it’s been our window. Through it, we saw our chance after Val made contact.
We’ve hunted him for years, and in the end, he came to us.
“I already have a man in place at the meet-up,” he goes on. “He’ll grease the water glass. We hope the glass will slip and spill, but even if it doesn’t, the grease has a dye and will stain. You said Laska’s fastidious, so using a napkin won’t be enough in either case. I’ll give you the go signal, and you’ll start walking. The bathrooms are individual and unisex. All the locks have been tampered with. A hard bump with your hip, and you’ll be in. Then it’s you and Laska, one on one.”
I nod. “Val will have protection scattered around the restaurant. If they suspect you or your man …”
“I know what I’m doing. So does my team. You’re the one out of her league.”
“I won’t screw it up.”
I stare out the window, trying to make sense of where I am and what I’m doing. There’s a queue of schoolchildren following their teacher down the street. A couple makes out against a tree. A deliveryman yells at the driver of a double-parked car. It’s all so surreal. The sunlit city with its teeming life seems like a nightmare vision. A taunting promise of normality meant to contrast reality with a deeper horror.
Looking down at my wedding ring, I don’t have the heart to remove it. I spin it around to hide the stone in my palm. “We’ve been over this a million times.”
“Your desperation dulls your edge. If he attacks you, you’re not –”
“He won’t.”
Rogelio slams his palm into the steering wheel and shouts, “You don’t know that! You’re blowing off the car accident as random, but none of the rest of us are. And it’s been weeks since we practiced. Weeks of you recovering. All these years of waiting and planning, and you won’t take the time to prepare!”
“Time for him to prepare, too,” I point out calmly. “Do you think the timing of his return to the city is coincidental? That he hired Amy before, and again, by chance? That meeting with her in a restaurant he doesn’t own wasn’t deliberate? There’s something bigger at play here.”
“No shit. It’s still too risky.”
“It’s never going to be without risk!” I sag back into the seat, pressing my palm against my forehead. “Do you know how hard it is to have all of you get cold feet today? Why not some other day? If anything’s screwing our chances now, it’s you guys making me feel so nervous when I need to be sharp!”
“It’s not just today.” Rogelio pulls over to the curb, parks and turns the engine off. Releasing his seatbelt, he twists to face me. His mouth is hard and tight, his eyes beseeching. “We’ve been talking about this for months.”
“Behind my back?”
“You haven’t exactly been available!” he snaps. “We’re not the same orphaned kids you tracked down. We’re different now – because of you. There was a time we all needed the idea of revenge against your mother and Laska to drive us forward. But then you helped us discover our talents and provided the education to make them marketable. You gave us a new family. We have each other now. Maybe that’s enough, querida. Maybe all of us making good is the best revenge.”
I study him. I let his words sink in. “I wish you’d said something earlier. I wouldn’t have made you come this far.”
“For fuck’s sake!” He grabs the steering wheel in both hands and shakes it hard. “I really want to throttle you right now. You know we’d never let you do this alone. I’m just telling you – you don’t have to do this for us. You don’t owe us anything. What your mother and Laska did to our families … that’s not on you.”
I nod, then pull out a tube of lipstick so nude it completely erases my lips. “We’ll have to plan for a family night after this. Air all this out.”
“You’re still going forward.”
“I have to save Kane,” I say simply. “I have to try.”
“All right.” He extends his hand and squeezes firmly when I set mine in his. “The town car will be waiting at the curb right outside.”
“Got it.”
He hands me a small box from the center console. “Here’s your earpiece. I’ll tell you when to start walking. Get in the back until then. And put the damn sunglasses on!”
Rogelio reaches between the seats and grabs a Gucci ball cap, tugging it on. He checks for traffic, then opens the door and hops out. I move to the back of the van and watch him head down the street and around the corner. Then I slide the shades onto my face and pull on a pair of blue gloves.
“There’s a guy on the door, outside,” he murmurs through the earpiece. “And two undercovers across the street.”
I nod by instinct, then scoff at myself for doing so. The van is already growing hot. The silicone prosthetics intensify the heat. Sweat beads on my skin then runs in rivulets. My makeup feels greasy, and I expect it’s begun to run, too.
I focus on my discomfort, on how my skin prickles. I can’t think about you. I can’t risk second-guessing a plan that’s been years in the making. It may not work, and I accept that. But I have to try. For you. For us.
“Walk.”
The one word is hissed but sounds like a shout. I hear it even over my panting breaths and the frantic beat of my heart. I check for anyone looking and hop out, sliding the door shut quickly. I adjust the weight of the blue bag on my shoulder and trace Rogelio’s steps. I walk briskly, with purpose, but roll my shoulders forward as if I’ve spent my life being awkward with my height. I notice people move out of my way more quickly than when I’m not wearing a mail carrier uniform. They’re not friendlier, but there seems to be some awareness that the mailperson should win by default in a game of pedestrian chicken.
There are two stores before I reach the restaurant, and I stop in each one, dropping off junk mail bundled with rubber bands. A lady in the stationery store asks if there’s a way to reduce the deluge of crap. I tell her to toss it in her recycling can.
When I step back outside, the sun seems blinding even with the dark, oversized sunglasses I wear. I can’t spot Val’s henchman or the cops. The people eating at the sidewalk tables across the street are animatedly engaged in conversation. Those who aren’t talking are looking at their phones.
The restaurant’s door chimes as I open it. I’ve already got the bundle of advertisements and coupons in my hand. I see Val’s broad back disappear down a hallway straight ahead.
“Thanks,” the hostess says, taking the mail and shoving it into the podium. She’s a tiny brunette, nearly as petite as Tovah but curvier.
“Mind if I use your restroom?” I ask, jutting out my lower jaw into an underbite that alters my face and deepens my voice.
“Sure. Straight back. How about ice water to go?”
I’m startled by her thoughtfulness. “I’m good, but thanks.”
The restaurant is less deep than wide, with the kitchen along the back wall. The floor is stone that’s seen more decades than I will, and the booths are notable for their ornately carved privacy screens and thoughtful hooks on the sides to hang jackets and handbags.
That’s all I see as I walk back like I’m in a hurry. I don’t want to look too closely at anyone or anything. I don’t see Rogelio, but I don’t doubt he’s there. I don’t know which of the servers or bussers might be his man. I reach the hallway and remove the sunglasses and hat, shoving them in the mailbag. While my hand is in there, I take inventory. I feel the weight of flawless jewels wrapped in satin.
“He’s in the second water closet,” Rogelio tells me. “Wait for the distraction.”
I pass the first bathroom. My footsteps slow as I see the second one. There is a third and then the entrance to the kitchen. I hear a crash behind me and the breaking of glass. At the collective gasp, I bump my hip into the second door, feel it give, and stagger in.
The rest passes in a blur of muscle memory. I rush forward, using the force of gravity to my advantage. For such a big man, Val moves like a ninja. He’s coiled and ready to strike in the blink of an eye. Then he sees my face and seizes. There’s a heartbeat of recognition and pleasure.
I don’t waste energy pulling out the knife. With all the momentum of my running entry, I shove it through the bag and into his chest. The layers of his clothing give way to the wickedly sharp dagger, but the flesh and muscle resist, followed by the scraping of blade against bone.
I’ve practiced on enough dead pigs to know the strength required for the task. But the addition of life – a gasped breath and hot, viscous blood … I am not prepared for those. I’m not prepared for death.
I try to help him to the floor gracefully, but he’s too heavy and nearly takes me down with him. I pull back when he’s seated on the tile with his legs stretched out and lock the door. I expect Val to be dead. If my aim was good, he’s got a knife in his heart. But he breathes shallowly, and there’s a smile on his face.
“I can’t let you kill him,” I tell him, crouching between his spread legs. I don’t have time for this. I need to remove the knife and let him bleed out. He’s made his living exploiting women and children – the younger, the better. He’s destroyed so many lives and wants to end your life. He doesn’t deserve mercy or my hesitancy. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with him, but I did.”
He chuckles, and blood runs from the corner of his mouth. It’s ghastly. Like a horror movie.
“The boat,” he wheezes with a crimson bubble of spit that bursts into tiny spatter. “Find it.”
“What? Val … what did you say?”
“Your mother” – he grins with bloodstained teeth – “will … p–proud.”
“Tell her I said hi,” I mutter, “when you join her in hell.”
But he chortles, and a gleam in his eyes makes my stomach drop.
My gaze searches his face anxiously, but his eyes lose focus, dimming into sightlessness. A moment later, the acrid ammonia smell of urine and the more offensive smell of feces foul the air.
I yank the knife from his chest with both hands, freeing the mailbag. Blood soaks the material of his designer dress shirt. Spreading the bag wide open on the floor, I tug the thick gloves off and drop them in. I stand and toe-off the shoes while unbuckling the belt, then unsnap the fasteners securing the faux buttocks. The shirt and breastplate follow, leaving me standing in a sweat-soaked bodysuit. The silk wrap dress in fire engine red takes no time to put on.
“If you’re still alive, hurry the fuck up!” Rogelio orders in a fierce whisper. “And grab his cellphone.”
I scrub the nude lipstick off with a paper towel and drop it into the bag. I slather on red gloss with shaking hands and loosen the braid while sliding my feet into heels. I fumble with the jewelry, panicking when I drop an earring in the sink. Thankfully Tovah selected easy: French hooks, a long necklace I can pull over my head and a bangle bracelet.
I look in the mirror. There are kinks from the braid my mother would never tolerate. My skin shines with sweat, my lipstick bleeds and there’s a tear in the dress from the knife. I take a deep breath, let it out. I slide Val’s phone into a clutch the same hue as my dress and leave the bag on the floor as I step out to the hallway.
A man is passing by with a broom, and I panic. Then he jerks his head toward the exit, and I know he’s with Rogelio. As I walk away, I hear the bathroom door open behind me. He’ll get rid of the mailbag. Val will lie there until someone discovers his corpse. It won’t take long.
“Would you please get the fuck out of here!” Rogelio growls.
Rolling my shoulders back, I walk out of the restaurant like my mother would, as if I’m the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth. Empress of the world. As if everyone around me has significance only if I deign to give them my attention.
I feel the stares of Val’s men as I pass through the dining room. When I step onto the sidewalk, I feel more stares. A black town car pulls up to the curb, and the back door swings open from inside. I step down from the sidewalk and slide into the back. I don’t have time to shut the door. The velocity with which the car accelerates closes it for me.
Tovah sits beside me. Her gaze is anxious on my face. “I couldn’t wait.”
“I see that.” I pull out Val’s phone and power it off so no one can trace it.
“It’s done?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God.” She melts into the seat, looking pale and dazed. “Oh God. That sick bastard is finally dead.”
She reaches for my hand and holds on tightly. I know what that means. Her father’s death preceded Val’s entrance into my mother’s life, but still, she feels some justice. As Rogelio said, we’re family – bonded by an inconceivable commonality and a burning need for vengeance, if not justice.
Tovah’s father didn’t pass my mother’s vile morality test. Val tortured and ordered the gang rape of Lacy’s mother over an ex-boyfriend she hadn’t seen in over a year. Salma’s brother had the misfortune of catching my mother’s eye. Rogelio lost his sister to Val’s trafficking ring.
“I’ll call the others,” Tovah says.
There are more of us outside of New York. So many families were devastated by Valon and Stephanie Laska’s insatiable appetites for death and wealth.
Lacy nicknamed us The Avengers. Each team member played a part in our success today. If only this were a comic book where we could write our storylines and draw our endings. So much time, energy and sacrifice. So many lives suspended. All to kill a single soulless man.
There was nothing worth saving in Val. That I mourn him even a little is proof of my inner rot. He looked after me in his twisted way when I had no one else who would. He didn’t do it out of love, and the results were not in my best interests, but it was something.
I look out of the window. Although Tovah appears comfortable, I’m freezing. I bite hard to keep my teeth from chattering, but it doesn’t help. I rub my arms with my hands, trying to warm them. Resting my head against the seat back, I close my eyes. The adrenaline that gave me such strength in the bathroom has drained away, and I’m exhausted. My limbs feel heavy. My eyelids are weighted.
“Come on. Let’s get you in and warm you up.”
Blinking, I find myself in my bathroom. I’m naked. Steaming water fills the deep soaking tub. Tovah holds me up on one side, Lacy on the other. My body jolts as if I’ve been shocked with a defibrillator, and the two shorter women cry out in alarm and struggle to keep me upright.
“Fuck it,” Rogelio says, and I hear his boots cross the veined marble. “I tried to preserve your modesty, querida, but if you fall and hurt yourself, Black will lose his shit.”
I realize I’ve lost time along with a chunk of recent memory. The last I knew, we were racing home, but there were prearranged changes of vehicle and clothing in between, followed by the return to the penthouse. The plan was set. Somewhere along the way, my mind checked out.
Lacy moves out of the way. Rogelio picks me up and carries me to the tub. I hiss in discomfort as my icy feet slide into water that feels like it’s boiling, but he doesn’t stop pouring my limp body into it. Under the water, my skin turns bright pink. The steam carries the scent of azaleas.
Rogelio studies me, careful to keep his eyes on mine. “You’re in shock. You’re going to sit in this hot water while Salma gets the wig off and all that crap off your face. Sip some strong coffee. I’d tell you to add some brandy, but I know you won’t. If ever there was a time for a drink, though, this is it.”
I grab his wrist as he starts to straighten. “Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone’s good.”
I sit up, wrapping my arms around my tucked legs. Salma wheels her trolley to the tub.
“They questioned me,” he elaborates, turning his back and walking a few feet away to give me privacy. “Just routine. I was visible to the UCs through the window the whole time, looking at my phone, so they’re probably done with me. They’ll interview all the employees and look at my man in the restaurant, but everyone saw him cleaning up broken glass when the hit went down.”
I exhale my relief. The bathtub sits parallel to the window, and I rest my cheek on my knees to look at Central Park and Harlem in the distance. Millions of people are going about their day, having no idea I’ve just taken a man’s life.
“The plan is holding so far,” he reassures. “My NYPD source says they like your mother for the hit since the UCs watched her stroll out of the restaurant in broad daylight. We’re already in Laska’s cloud backup, deleting anything that could tie to you. The authorities don’t know Steph Laska had a daughter, and we’ll keep it that way. If someone’s paying attention, the IP address is the NYPD’s, which won’t be a surprise.”
“You never miss a trick.”
“That’s my job description. Listen … I’m proud of you. Thank you for what you’ve done for all of us. We’ll talk later. Aliyah’s been blowing up my phone since yesterday. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t mentioned the contractor in Seattle – she’s going to wonder how you learned that info. I’ve got to clean up and get to work.”
“Tilt your head back,” Salma orders, a spray bottle of glue remover in hand.
“Rogelio.” With my neck resting against the lip of the tub, my gaze is on the ceiling. The marble veining in the corner by the sink looks like a spider’s web. “I need to know if there’s anything about a boat in Val’s cloud. Photos, mentions … anything.”
“Close your eyes,” Salma instructs.
“What kind of boat? A yacht?”
“Possibly a small boat. A sailboat.” Abruptly, the hot water isn’t warm enough to fight a chill, and I shiver. “He told me to find the boat.”
“Your boat?” he asks sharply.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It’s a sick joke. The only way to find a shipwreck is to sink to the bottom of the ocean.”
“He wasn’t in any condition to make wisecracks.”
“Okay.” His words are clipped. “We’ll look.”
“Something else … I think she might be alive.”
“Who?”
“You know who,” I retort wearily. “When Val first saw my face, I’m sure he thought I was her for a split second. He didn’t look shocked.”
“You can’t know that. You rushed the guy with a knife. It’s all instinct at that moment, for you and him. You can’t read anything into facial expressions.”
“He said she’ll be proud of me. Not that she would have been, but that she will be.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Salma dismisses, rubbing the spray into my hairline.
“He was lying on a bathroom floor with a knife in his heart,” Rogelio argues. “That he even said anything at all tells you he had the strength of an ox. He was dying and gibbering. Not to mention you’re in shock. What you’re thinking and feeling, what you remember or don’t … it’s all going to be scrambled in your head. Remember, eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable.”
“Forget what I saw,” I tell him. “Go with what I felt. Okay?”
“There’s no way she’s alive, querida. I know you’d feel better if you’d buried her body, but she went overboard miles out to sea during a storm. The chances of her surviving are non-existent.”
“I survived.”
“You didn’t have a bullet in your chest!”
“Rogelio, please.”
He exhales heavily. “If Laska’s been communicating with your mother, the evidence will be on his phone. If it’s there, we’ll find it.”
“She has multiple aliases. She might even be using a masculine name. She and Val may use a coded language or –”
“I know what to look for. I’ll let you know if I find anything. The jewels are back in the safe.”
“Thank you.”
I listen to him leave, then hear Tovah’s lighter steps approach. Salma resumes tugging on my scalp annoyingly.
When Witte returns, rolling into the kitchen with a wire cart filled with groceries, we’re seated at the kitchen table, eating the salads. Lacy is working in a distant part of the condo after the security team gave us a heads-up of Witte’s return. Tovah, Salma and I are reading a gossip blog on the tablet and laughing over a photo of Tom Hiddleston wearing a tank top with “I love T. S.” – i.e., his girlfriend Taylor Swift – emblazoned across it.
“Would Kane wear something like that for you?” Tovah queries.
“Never,” I say with feeling.
We all laugh, Witte smiles, and I feel like I’m living a sitcom version of my life. Nothing feels real. The salad, which has Tovah and Salma in raptures, feels and tastes like I’m eating damp chunks of cardboard. My stomach revolts against digesting anything, but I force it to comply. I can make my body do many things it instinctively doesn’t want to do.
“I was able to pick up some lovely ripe strawberries,” Witte says. “I can serve them with fresh whipped cream if you’ve any room left for dessert.”
“That sounds amazing,” I tell him.
“Do you have a brother, Witte?” Tovah asks. “Please say yes.”
“Or a son?” Salma quips.
It’s all so horribly, frighteningly normal. I play my part, telling myself I’ve done what I must to keep this unexpected life with you.
When you come home, I’m waiting by the door. It swings open, you step inside, and I launch myself at you the way I did at Val – with all the force I possess. You rock back on your heels and drop your satchel, catching me with a laugh. My feet leave the floor.
“Well … I definitely like coming home to this, Setareh.” You give me a youthful grin followed by a deep, lush kiss. “I missed you like crazy, too. Almost more than I could stand.”
And while I have you in my arms, I think it’s all been worthwhile. I hope the worst is over. I’m also terrified it’s not.