UNMASKED: Sequel to Behind the Mask

by Heather Carnassale

  “I can’t.”

  “Oh, I get it, it’s from one of your illegal activities, and somehow this woman is involved too.”

  “Basically.”

  “Care to elaborate?” she asked.

  “Not that I owe you any explanation, but I’m going to give you one anyway,” he said as she waited with bated breath. “This woman is just a friend.”

  “That’s it?” she questioned with total disbelief. “That’s your answer, just a friend.”

  He nodded while she shook her head in disgust, “God you’re frustrating!”

  He shrugged, so in a huff, she headed towards the door but before exiting she announced, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  He didn’t react, proving he had no interest in restarting anything with her. “Goodbye, Liam,” she said as she walked out. Once she was gone, he felt as if a weight had been lifted. Though he couldn’t deny being somewhat tempted, the one area he and Zoe never had an issue, was the physical chemistry. Had she stayed, it would have no doubt been a great time, but he didn’t want to rehash something that ended up being a huge negative in his life. He took the bottle of Chardonnay out onto the balcony where the warm breeze coming off the Atlantic Ocean, instantly hit him. It was the perfect setting just to stretch out and finally relax. Taking full advantage of a padded chaise lounge, he swigged the wine while scrolling through his phone. Not seeking anything specific, he clicked random news apps, but eventually skimmed through bookmarks, stopping at the one marked, Remi’s Interview. He had watched it exactly two times. Once when it originally aired and the second time, he had been wondering how she was doing and had to talk himself out of contacting her. So he opted to view it, to give him some sort of reassurance that she was okay. But there he was again, about to watch it a third time, begging the question why. Chris often informed that she was doing fine and though Liam was glad to receive that information, he still worried about her.

  As the video began to play, a wry smile soon appeared on his face. She looked beautiful, especially those remarkable dark blue eyes, that still reminded him of sapphires. So much so, almost the entire time the camera remained on her face, he was fixated on her eyes. He remembered being in the vault when those same eyes pleaded with him to not let anything bad happen to her. He took a generous sip of the wine then stared at the moon reflecting off the ocean. He never regretted leaving but lately, he’d been contemplating more and more on when it was time to head back to Philly.

  CHAPTER 2

  Surprisingly, Remi awoke, feeling refreshed, after making it through the whole night without any nightmares to disrupt her sleep. The nightmares didn’t always infiltrate her dreams, but they also didn’t discriminate, bedtime or just a random nap, violent images and visions of doom invaded her head like a vicious plague. She tried the sleeping pills that Dr. Layton, her therapist, had prescribed for her but hated using them as a crutch. And often didn’t like the groggy way she felt the next morning. Turning on her side, with her hand nestled under the pillow, she again thought about the first time she woke up in his bed. Hung over and filled with pure mortification, at the time, had no idea who he really was. She smiled just thinking about how he looked out for her that night, recalling the next morning, when Liam uttered the words, “There won’t always be someone to watch over you.”

  She sighed. Each day, he wasn’t there just made it harder to get passed his leaving. Of course, she couldn’t think about him gone without lumping in those concise notes of his. No phone call, no texts, no emails, it was impossible not to feel like an afterthought. She wondered if he worried about her at all, which was ironic considering when he was overly concerned about her well being, it rubbed her the wrong way. And now, she’d love to have him back hovering.

  The longer she lied in bed, the less she felt like getting up, but she had a full day on her plate, no time for laziness, she thought. When she got up, the first thing she did was tidy the sheets and made sure the bed was exactly the way Liam had left it. While in the shower, her thoughts remained on Liam but more so about the interrogation at the diner. The investigators seemed awfully interested in talking to him, which to her was somewhat worrisome. However, he wasn’t there to deal with it, so she wasn’t going to stress about it. After washing her hair with her favorite strawberry-scented shampoo, that she left in Liam’s shower; she quickly washed up, dried off, threw on her robe then hurried next door, where Melanie and Justin were still sleeping. Remi quietly slipped on black leggings, a black turtleneck, and a long gray duster. While she waited for a cup of coffee to brew, she popped an English muffin into the toaster and checked her email messages. It was early and she hadn’t expected to see a response from Penny Matthews, but to her amazement there it was:

  Ms. Catalano,

  I can meet with you tomorrow at 11:00 am at my office. Let me know if this is good for you.

  Sincerely, Penelope Matthews

  Remi smiled widely. The reality of meeting Liam’s mom was suddenly very real which made her flustered as she hurriedly prepared her coffee and buttered the muffin. With time getting away from her, she grabbed her purse, food, coat, and hauled ass to the train station. Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting on the train, reading Penny’s email again. Remi hadn’t yet replied, so she went ahead and agreed to the time and location. Filled with a mix of emotions, Remi had to remind herself that it was for her job and wanted to prove to Olivia that she was more than capable of doing it well.

  After a seven-mile morning run on the beach, Liam arrived back at the hotel, ordered room service then hit the shower. While toweling off, he ran his fingers over the four-inch scar and pushed gently into the skin. From the vague soreness that lingered deep within to the sealed line and dots left by the staples, it was all a sharp memento of how stupid he was for completely discounting Tom. Looking back to that night when he fought with one of Tom’s henchmen, Liam thought had Remi not helped him, that knife wound would have either caused a major infection or possibly even killed him. All he could think was how she came through for him, disregarding the fact that he hadn’t left Philadelphia like he had told her he would. A sudden knock on the door jolted him back to reality. “Room service,” a male voice announced from out in the hall. Liam rushed to throw on a pair of shorts before letting the attendant inside. When the man was finished preparing the cart, Liam handed him a generous tip then took a seat. After he fixed a cup of coffee and sampled the scrambled eggs, he began reading the local newspapers and surfed the Internet searching for prime Miami real estate to possibly invest. Still undecided on when to head back to Philly, Liam focused on purchasing a beachfront property. He wasn’t looking for anything big he just wanted an ample place to escape, but most of the places he found online weren’t up to his liking. That was until he was just about to take a break from searching when he spotted a house that appeared ideal. He immediately called the listed number to set up a time to check out the property. To his surprise, the realtor told him she had a cancellation and could meet him at noon.

  Two hours later, he was entering a three-bedroom, two and a half bath Spanish style house located on Miami’s North Beach. “As you can see Mr. Matthews, this is one of our most popular listings,” proclaimed Samantha Port, the female realtor, showing Liam the house. “It was built in 1989, and the sellers are the original owners,” she said, as she began pointing out its magnificent architectural detail. “They designed it to look authentic as possible on the outside with a dash finish traditional stucco exterior and clay tile roof, but on the inside, as you will see, they chose to do a little larger than usual archways and hardwood floors instead of tile.”

  Liam was highly impressed as his engineer mind studied every facet of the house. “The kitchen was just newly renovated last year, granite countertops, Viking stove and all stainless steel appliances,” she explained. “And the view is absolutely spectacular.”

  Liam couldn’t disagree while they continued walking around. The woman, who Liam ded
uced was in her mid to late forties, was an attractive redhead with a slim build and like most, found him to be tremendously handsome and couldn’t resist fishing. “Are you looking for yourself or for you and your—wife?”

  He grinned. “I’m not married.”

  “Girlfriend?” she questioned, blatantly eyeing him up.

  “Nope, don’t have one of those either.”

  “That’s too bad,” she remarked insincerely. “The sunsets here can be quite romantic.”

  Liam just smiled as he ventured out to the terrace. He looked out at the Atlantic Ocean, concentrating on the waves crashing against the shoreline, and was mesmerized by the calming effect it had on him. “What’s the price again?” he asked.

  “Nine hundred thousand.”

  “Would they be willing to negotiate?” he asked. She told him that they haven’t budged yet for any potential buyers. Liam thought for a moment then said, “Okay, but before I make a final decision, I’d like to get an inspector in here.”

  Samantha agreed then excused herself for a minute to make a phone call. Liam took the opportunity to take one more look around. He thought a beach house would be an excellent investment, along with being a terrific getaway. And though he loved the warm temperatures and all that Miami had to offer, he had no intention of living there permanently. He just wanted to have a place of his own that he could travel to whenever the mood struck and for some inexplicable reason, this place felt right.

  During Remi’s lunch break, she decided to visit Jenna’s grave, which was something she hadn’t done in quite some time and felt awful about it. Before going to the cemetery, she stopped at a nearby florist to buy flowers. Because it was still wintertime, she chose a small red Amaryllis Mix bouquet. The sun brightly shined as Remi weaved through the many gravestones and when she reached Jenna’s, immense sadness was immediately conjured up, along with the ever-present survivor’s guilt. She kneeled down in front of the grave then placed the bouquet on top of it. Remi cleared away a few rogue leaves and cleaned off the stone with a tissue from her purse. “Hey, Jenna,” she said, crouching on her knees. “Sorry, I haven’t been in here a while.”

  She then sighed. “Oh Jenna, things have been crazy, but you, of course, would probably love all the craziness.”

  She giggled, but that quickly faded as she grew somber. And with a hushed tone so that no one would hear, she murmured, “I shot that vile man that killed you and Wendy.”

  She then proudly added, “And Liam killed him.”

  Remi smiled smugly, very reminiscent of Liam himself and declared, “I have absolutely no remorse for that man’s death—none!”

  A tear began to trickle down her cheek but it wasn’t for Tom, it was because she missed Jenna. Another tear followed then another. Clearing her throat, she said, “I hope you understand why I felt the need to protect and lie for Liam.”

  Remi gently placed her hand on the stone and began to full out cry. “Why do I always feel I have to justify Liam’s role in my life?” she asked. “Yes, there is a slew of reasons why I should stay away from him,” she said. “But there are so many why I shouldn’t or don’t want to.”

  She then smirked at how redundant she sounded. “He’s not even here, so what the hell am I even rambling about?”

  For a while, she just sat there in silence, wishing Jenna was still alive and that they could go back to before the heist even happened. Of course, for that to occur, she wouldn’t have ever met Liam. It was a sick and twisted irony, she thought. Unfortunately, it was time for her to leave, so she touched the gravestone one last time, and through tears, she whispered, “I’ll come again, I promise.”

  Even with rushing, Remi was a few minutes late in getting back to work but wasted no time doing her job once she was there. The first thing she did was pull up her emails to check off all the responses she had received in regards to the donors for the auction. Everyone on the list all agreed to meet with her, which made her happy. Though, the meeting with Penny Matthews trumped them all. Just then, Olivia exited her office, to which Remi immediately apologized that time had gotten away from her. However, Olivia didn’t care; she just wanted to show Remi the flyer for the benefit, and that’s when Remi told her about getting everyone to agree to meet with her. “That’s great,” said Olivia as she disappeared back into her office. While Remi looked at the flyer, her cell phone chirped. She recognized the caller as Dr. Layton. As soon as she answered, it was an automated voice reminding Remi of her appointment tomorrow, which she had forgotten. She felt frustrated, but fortunately, it wasn’t going to interfere with her meeting with Liam’s mother.

  At the hotel, Liam sat on the beach, watching the beautiful Florida sunset, and felt a sense of that elusive solitude he had been seeking. He thought about the house and how he hoped the inspection would go well. He would plan to go ahead and purchase it. Get some things done in the house then possibly head back to Philadelphia. He thought his mind was clear, but as he listened to the surf and stared out at the swirling ocean, his mind flashbacked to four days before the heist:

  “Well, what’s Chris’ diagnosis?” Charles asked me, his unhappiness on full display. I pulled over a box crate, sat down, and replied, “It’s broken in three places.”

  Charles immediately threw his hands up in disgust, barking loudly, “That stupid shit!”

  Tom, John, Wyatt and myself just watched as Charles blew a gasket. “I can’t fucking believe he broke his ankle.”

  In an attempt to perform damage control, I interjected, “So we’re now a five-man crew instead of six, we’ve done jobs with less.”

  Tom quickly argued, “Yeah, but not of this magnitude.”

  Charles picked up a crate and violently hurled it across the empty warehouse. “You wait ‘til I get my hands on him, he’ll have more than a busted ankle.”

  Tom wasted no time jumping aboard the Chris-hate wagon, purposely placating Charles or more like sucking up. “I’d like a crack at him myself.”

  “Whoa, both of you calm the fuck down,” I shouted. “Yes, Chris getting into a fight was stupid, but shit happens, and now we have to deal with it.”

  Tom just leered at me, his disdain palpable. As Charles mulled it over, Tom again imparted his useless opinion. “Face it; we are fucked.”

  Charles motioned for me to chat privately. Of course, this action angered Tom. “Thought there were no secrets.”

  We just ignored him and huddled in a corner. “What do you think we should do?” I asked quietly.

  “I think we can do this with five, everything is set, and all contingencies have been covered,” he said. “Yes, we needed Chris but to add a guy who has only been partially involved might not be wise.”

  I sighed, as I wasn’t as sure. But as I had stated earlier, we had done jobs with only two to three guys, so we’d be able to make it work. “Are we in agreement?” asked Charles. I nodded. A few seconds later, we joined the other three to inform them of our mutual decision.

  Tom instantly balked, “Don’t we get a vote?”

  Charles groaned, “You’re either in or out.”

  Both John and Wyatt agreed with the choice, but Tom stayed neutral. “I think we should take some time and think about this.”

  “We don’t have time,” declared Charles. Tom mumbled, “This is such bullshit.”

  I smugly suggested, “You don’t like it, there’s the door.”

  Tom just laughed and for a split second thought maybe leaving was the best thing, but this heist was too attractive just to walk away. So regardless of his disdain for me, he opted to stick it out. Charles looked at the four of us and said, “Now that this is settled, let’s get down to business and make sure everything is set.”

  A large wave suddenly washed up, skimming Liam’s feet, jolting him back to the present. He immediately thought about how much discord was in the group, and none of them were on the same page. A serious problem when getting ready to pull the biggest heist that crew had ever done. Once again, hi
s mind drifted back:

  After Charles had opened a bottle of 15-year-old aged bourbon, he poured it into two shot glasses. He then slid one over to me, keeping the other for himself. I nodded thanks then quickly downed mine. Charles followed suit then asked, “You okay with all of this?”

  Somewhat defensively, I countered, “Yeah why?”

  Charles poured two more shots then explained, “This is the biggest job we’ve ever scored, things have got to go as planned.”

  “You worried?” I asked, sensing he was but hiding it.

  Charles scoffed as if to say that question was preposterous. “Not worried, just don’t want anything to get fucked up.”

  I slammed back the shot while Charles further clarified. “This thing with Chris was unforeseen but definitely made things a little more difficult.”

  Before I could comment, Charles continued talking. “I need you to step it up and be my right-hand man.”

  Now I was the one offended. “Are you doubting me?”

  “Not at all, I just need to know you’re on board a hundred percent.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t.”

  “Even knowing there will be hostages?” he questioned.

  “Not gonna lie, I prefer the jobs without any, but I know it can’t be avoided.”

  “If all goes according to plan, we should be in and out of there in a matter of minutes,” said Charles.

  Not as convinced as he was, I simply uttered, “I hope.”

  As Charles grinned and poured another shot, I asked, “Isn’t this Denton guy worried that this could blow back on him once the diamonds are stolen?”

  Charles held up his glass and replied in a mocking tone, “Apparently, he’s got it covered.”

  I just rolled my eyes then announced I was heading out. “Tomorrow night, final preparations,” Charles reminded. I nodded and yelled back, “Lock up when you leave.”

  Liam’s recollection of those earlier conversations before the heist made him cringe. Wishing he had some sort of premonition of how badly things were going to turn out. Knowing what’s done is done, and can’t change what happened, he wondered, other than Chris bowing out, were there any clues he missed on the potential horrific outcome that ultimately occurred. It was like beating a dead horse to death; he could rack his brain for hours, possibly days trying to make sense of it all, only to get the same wretched result. The job went awry, people died, and lives were forever affected. No getting around all of that. He knew that believing otherwise would be ludicrous and a waste of time.