Lethal

by Ava Kendrick

  “Look, I know it sounds crazy. And I don’t know why I didn’t go to you before he attacked me. I guess I didn’t believe it myself.”

  There was shuffling on the other end of the line. She was moving someplace quiet. “Cleo. Please. Start from the beginning.”

  “Don’t leave the office, Julia. Okay? I’m about five minutes away.”

  “I won’t.” I heard her exhale, long and slow. Was she deciding whether or not to believe me? If I couldn’t convince her, then what hope did I have?

  “Ben isn’t a broker,” I said finally, struggling to organize my thoughts into coherent sentences.

  She was silent.

  “He’s a criminal. He makes his living hurting people. Not selling stocks to wealthy dentists.”

  I expected her to make some wisecrack, but she said nothing. I hoped she was still listening and not calling my doctors to tell them I’d taken a turn for the crazy.

  “I never suspected. Well not until the end. And even then I didn’t think it was this... serious. Maybe insider trading or something. He’s a gangster, Jules. Can you believe that?”

  She sighed. “I wouldn’t have suspected either,” she said levelly. “How did you find out?”

  I closed my eyes and willed myself to remember how our life had been. Ben seemed so normal—he had often worked long into the night. He had always worn the bespoke suits and expensive shoes that I associated with finance guys.

  We’d been dating for two years, but we’d only been living together for a few months. And it had been Ben who’d instigated that. I’d been perfectly happy living in my little studio apartment. I wondered why he’d bothered. If I hadn’t found out, would he have kept up the facade for much longer? Was he secretly married? I hadn’t met any of his friends, but I hadn’t thought that was strange. We both worked long hours, and it wasn’t like he’d met my friends very often either.

  But I’d begun to suspect something was up. I’d noticed he had a way of evading my questions about his work. I hadn’t even realized it. And once the doubts had been seeded, they’d refused to stop niggling at me. I remembered that day in the office now—that’s why I’d been crying. Ben hadn’t been home in two days, and he hadn’t answered his cell.

  I gritted my teeth.

  I let him walk all over me. Why didn’t I just leave him?

  But I already knew why. It was pride. It was stupid pride that had kept me from sharing my suspicions with Julia—I had wanted so much to believe I’d just imagined it. My dream of the perfect relationship had been the most important thing to me—well, guess what? It had almost cost me my life.

  “How did you know?” Julia pressed.

  I felt a flicker of doubt when I heard her tone. Was it possible…? I shook my head. That was the problem when your entire world was turned on its head—how did you know who to trust?

  “Julia? Can I trust you?”

  “Of course,” she whispered, her voice full of anguish.

  I debated for a moment. Had he gotten to her too? Should I tell the driver to turn around and go to the airport?

  “Cleo?”

  But what kind of life was that, running away from everyone I’d ever known?

  “I came home early one afternoon,” I said, drawing the words out. “And he was there. I could hear him walking around the lounge. I was just about to go surprise him when I heard someone else speak. Cold. Hostile. I was literally just about to barrel through the door, but that voice made me stop. So fast I almost stumbled.”

  I breathed a sigh that was both relief and foreboding. If I’d stumbled and hit that door they would have heard me. And it might have all been different now. That other man. The cold one. He wouldn’t have left me for dead; he’d have made sure the job was done.

  “Our bedroom is—was—just down the hall so I went there. Lay on the bed. Felt like an idiot then. I was always telling Ben he should bring some of his colleagues over for dinner.”

  “I got up and marched to the door, determined to play the part of the welcoming banker’s wife. I was an idiot for reacting that way solely on the basis of the guy’s voice, I told myself. But, Jules.” I paused. “If you’d heard it. It was cold.”

  The cab pulled up outside Julia’s building and I threw the rest of the fare at him, almost leaving with his cell.

  “Meet me at the security desk?” I whispered, before hanging up.

  I closed the door and ran across the sidewalk to her building, rushing up the steps two at a time. It felt irrational to be more afraid on the street than in a cab, but I felt more exposed.

  Had I told Ben where she worked? Or Roman?

  What had I told them?

  By the time I reached the security desk, an ashen-faced Julia was already there.

  “Cleo,” she said, taking me into her arms.

  I fell against her gratefully, with the false sense that everything was going to be okay. I glanced at the desk. There were two guards there, but even then I didn’t feel safe.

  “Is there someplace we can go?”

  She nodded.

  I took the temporary pass the guard handed me and signed the register with a made-up name. “If two guys come looking for me…” I said haltingly. “Don’t tell them…”

  Julia took my hand and squeezed it.

  “You’ll understand when…”

  She pulled me along to the elevators. When we were alone inside she turned to me. Her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Jules, I’m not crazy,” I said as calmly as I could.

  She bit her lip. “What happened? You were telling me about the guy with the cold voice.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. They were in the apartment and I was going back to the lounge telling myself not to be paranoid. The guy was a banker, right? The only danger he posed was to the financial system. Not to me. But then…”

  I stopped. I could see it clearly in my mind.

  I had reached the door. I was almost there when it flew open. It opened out, so all I could see was the door. But that was enough to make me stop. It was the force of it. It wasn’t like Ben. He was usually so calm and measured. That made me uneasy. I started to think my first instinct had been right, even though at that point I didn’t understand what was happening. I started moving backward, as quietly as I could. As I reached our bedroom, the strangest sound came from the lounge. Like the thwack of a tennis ball, only softer.

  I’d never heard it in real life before. And I didn’t realize what it was. Until seconds later, when someone fell through the open doorway into the corridor.

  I’d never seen him before.

  And there he was, writhing on my carpet.

  I didn’t stay to see what happened next—survival mode kicked in. I’d left the bedroom door open. I sidestepped inside, confident that he hadn’t seen me. But I didn’t feel any safer. I was frozen with fear; unable to move. Had the door been open when I got home? Or closed?

  I was hovering there when I heard the voices. It took me a while to realize what that meant—there had been three of them. It was the cold-voiced guy who spoke. He was barking instructions at Ben as if it was something he did every day. Ben sounded agitated.

  I leaned against the wall, flattening myself as much as possible. I didn’t want to listen. But I did.

  My boyfriend had just killed someone. In our apartment.

  And I needed to know why.

  I couldn’t make out everything they were saying, but I caught bits and pieces. Ben kept insisting that they weren’t meant to do it here. Not in his apartment. Cold-voice disagreed. He needed to be done. Before things got out of hand. From what they were saying, I thought maybe they were talking about some drug deal gone wrong. They talked about shipments. About him failing to keep his end of the deal.

  Then the words that almost made my heart stop.

  “What if she finds out?”

  “What do you care?” cold-voice asked, without an ounce of emotion in his tone.

  Ben stuttered. I didn’t catc
h his answer, but maybe that had more to do with the fact that my pulse was hammering in my ears. My whole world had been turned upside down, but I wasn’t totally naive. I could figure out what those words meant.

  If they caught me, I was dead.

  I stared around the room, paralyzed by fear and terror. In the midst of that, I had the strangest feeling. You know, like when you’re getting waxed and you need to stay still? I kept thinking, what if I just burst out laughing? What then?

  Luckily I got it together. We’d only been living there for a few months, so it was hard to picture the layout of the apartment in relation to the rest of the building. Whatever way I ran through it, though, there was no way for me to get out without going directly past them. The corridor led off in a semicircle from the main door. The lounge was directly opposite that door. There was nowhere for me to go.

  “Where the hell did you go?” Julia asked, leaning forward.

  By now we were sitting in a conference room on her floor of the building. I felt safer now: this level was only accessible by keycard. I knew that would do little to keep out someone like Ben, but I clung on to it nonetheless.

  I shrugged. “Nowhere. I was too afraid to go hide in the bathroom or the closet, just in case the doors squeaked. So I hid behind the door in our bedroom. I didn’t even dare call the cops in case they heard.”

  “For how long?”

  I shrugged. “It could have been fifteen minutes; could have been two hours. I have no idea. It felt like forever. And I kept on thinking, one cough, one sigh and I was fucked.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “They were there in the hallway. Shuffling around. Talking. I started to worry that they weren’t going to leave, that they’d wait there for me until eventually they realized I’d been there all along and come looking for me. But they finally left.”

  “I waited fifteen minutes. Then I left the room, careful not to touch anything. The weird thing was, I was preparing to step over a body, or blood; something. But there was nothing. The carpet looked as pristine as ever. How the hell did they do that? It made me shiver to think. They must’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “I half expected them to be outside in the corridor, waiting for me... Walking between the bedroom and lounge was the most terrifying walk of my life. I kept expecting them to jump out at me from one of the other rooms. But they didn’t. I opened the front door and just walked out. Just like that.

  Julia frowned. “But you were attacked in the apartment?”

  I nodded. A chill shot from my chest to my navel. “Yeah. Well. I called the elevator frantically. I watched the numbers on the display. I was getting my hopes up. I thought I’d done it. If I could just get outside to safety, then I’d call the cops. But then the doors opened.”

  “Oh my god.”

  I looked away. “Yeah. It was him. Alone this time.”

  She took my hands.

  “I was dazed. In shock. I just… I don’t know why, but I felt relieved that it was just Ben and not the other guy. I mean, I didn’t want him near me, but I thought at least he wouldn’t hurt me, right?”

  Julia nodded, signaling for me to continue.

  But I couldn’t.

  Not this part.

  “Cleo?”

  I shook my head. Part of me didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to think it wasn’t a memory, it was something I’d made up. “I didn’t try to fight back, Jules. I just let him lead me back to the apartment.” I buried my face in my hands. I’d never seen myself as a weak person. But now? I didn’t know what to believe.

  She sighed. “What were you supposed to do? He was bigger. Stronger, honey.”

  “No. I should have fought,” I shook my head vehemently, tears smearing across my face. “I let him lead me back into the apartment and close the door behind us.”

  Thirty

  Roman

  I ran up the emergency stairway two steps at a time, praying I’d find her in the apartment. Praying her back was turned when I walked in and did what I had to do. I couldn’t stand the idea of looking in her green eyes and witnessing the fear and disgust in them when she saw what I really was. With luck, she’d never have to see the truth.

  Oh, I knew.

  I was an asshole.

  Worse than that.

  But what choice did I have?

  Sure I spent almost every waking moment thinking of her, and a lot of dreaming moments too, but that didn’t matter. Business was business.

  Except…

  I came to a stop halfway up the second flight and leaned against the wall.

  Can I really do this? Really?

  I shook my head, trying to imagine my life without her in it. I’d only known her for a little over a month. But that didn’t matter. I literally couldn’t imagine what life would be like without her. I was hooked. Hooked on the sound of her voice calling to me from the bedroom when I came home late at night. Hooked on the smell of her cooking. The smell of her skin. The little sounds she made while she slept.

  No, of course I couldn’t do it—but I didn’t have a choice. It was either she died or we both did. And it was better that I do it quickly and painlessly, rather than subject her to whatever sadist the Soldier found to carry out the job after he’d dumped my lifeless body in the river.

  Talk about an impossible choice.

  I walked the rest of the way; every step closer to the apartment made my heart feel heavier and heavier until I felt like it was going to explode right there in a grim staircase in a nondescript apartment building.

  But it didn’t.

  I reached my apartment without passing another soul in the building. My mind turned to practicalities, because it sure as shit couldn’t deal with emotions anymore. The lease was in my name, so I’d need to get her out of there somehow. I was used to turning up to anonymous buildings, pulling the trigger and then leaving the scene. If the client wanted a cover-up job done, then it was their responsibility to call in the cleaners.

  This was different. For so many reasons.

  I twisted my key in the lock, telling myself I’d figure it out later. Maybe I’d hire a van and take her upstate to one of the lakes. It was peaceful there. Beautiful. Like her. The contents of my stomach seemed to turn and bubble up in my throat. I paused and swallowed, telling myself I had no choice. Did I want to see her maimed when I was already dead and unable to protect her? I certainly didn’t. This was the best way for both of us, I knew, even if my body was reacting like I’d just swallowed poison.

  I closed my eyes as I pushed the door open, praying that she was looking away. Sure it was cowardly, but I didn’t want to see the betrayal in her eyes. I knew it would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  I stepped inside and closed the door behind me gently, so that if she was in the bedroom she wouldn’t hear. I stepped inside. The apartment was quiet, like it hadn’t been lived in for a long time. But that was stupid, I knew. We’d woken up there that morning and had breakfast together. It had all seemed easier then—delay and delay until maybe the Soldier let it go. It hadn’t seemed like such a large threat. What had happened to change his mind?

  I knew there was one thing I could do to find out, but I brushed that idea from my mind immediately. I wasn’t calling him—no way. Not even if my life depended on it. But hers? I shook my head. No. He wouldn’t help me anyway.

  Before I could stop myself, I walked the short distance to the bedroom, touching my holster as I put my hand on the door handle. The door squeaked open and I held my breath. It was empty; the bed neatly made like it always was now that she was there.

  I checked the bathroom quickly and then sat on the bed, feeling restless. I didn’t know whether I felt relieved or dismayed that the moment had been delayed. In a way, I just wanted to get it over with. I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that the Soldier had sent someone else after her, especially not when I’d witnessed the skepticism in his eyes at our meeting earlier. Did he know I was having doubts? Could he suspect
my relationship with her? I shouldn’t have asked him why the job was suddenly urgent, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself.

  I was clutched by fear. Everything was different now. Before when there had been no urgency, I could have dismissed my relationship with her as me building up a way to get to know my mark’s habits. Sure, it was sadistic and it wasn’t the way I operated. But the Soldier didn’t know that. In fact, he had a reputation for sadism himself so I was willing to bet he’d have applauded such tactics.

  Now, though, it was a different story. If they had been watching, they’d know exactly how much time we spent together. And it would seem incredibly suspicious if I claimed not to know where she was. They’d know—rightly—that she told me exactly where she was going at all times. I couldn’t lie to them and say I hadn’t been able to find her. They’d know immediately.

  I shook my head and lay back against the mattress. The possibilities were endless. Maybe they didn’t know about us. Maybe they did. It wasn’t important. The only thing that mattered was that I get to her before they did.

  My eyes caught a picture frame on the dresser. It hadn’t been there before. My heart sank. She’d printed a picture of the two of us and framed it. I squinted. It was from one morning when I’d walked her to the library through the park. She’d whipped out her cell and taken a picture. I’d barely even noticed at the time, I’d been so wrapped up in her. I shook my head, knowing I shouldn’t think about it. But I couldn’t help it.

  I sprung off the bed and onto my feet. Now wasn’t the time to sit around daydreaming and regretting. We’d been doomed before our relationship even began. I should have listened to my instincts when they screamed at me that I shouldn’t get involved. But I hadn’t. And now I was paying the price.

  People like me didn’t get to have love in their lives, I told myself as I walked to the door. I’d known that—it was something I’d known for years. We could fuck, but we couldn’t have love. It got in the way.

  I glanced at the clock in the kitchen, calculating. Where was she? It was Friday afternoon. She was usually in the apartment around this time—she always came home early on Fridays. She’d told me that morning that she was meeting a friend of a friend to talk about a job at mid-day. But that was hours ago now. I frowned. Usually, she came straight home—if she went out it was later.