Winter

by Michelle Love

  Scarlett headed to the kitchen. “I’ll do the trash; I’m already wet.”

  Inca called after her. “Put my red mac on; it’s behind the door.”

  Scarlett tugged the raincoat on—Inca was a lot smaller than she was and it didn’t reach around Scarlett’s large chest. She shrugged, grinning. “Better than nothing.”

  Outside, ice and rain were falling in a torrent and the road was slick with a thick coat of ice. It was bitterly cold as Scarlett dashed outside to the garbage bins and threw in the sack of trash from the kitchen. The rain soaked through her light shirt and she tugged Inca’s coat further around her. The damp material stuck to her body as she went back to the door—only to find it had closed behind her and locked.

  Goddammit! Scarlett wiggled the handle, but it was stuck tight. “Inca! Let me in!” She banged on the door. She heard a step behind her and spun around. She squinted through the rain—was there someone there?

  There was a muffled bang and the first bullet smashed through the center of her belly. She gasped, shock and adrenaline flooding her system. All the air seemed pushed out of her lungs and she saw her blood spreading across the damp cotton of her shirt.

  Oh God, no …

  Her attacker shot her again, the bullet slamming into her chest, and Scarlett dropped to the ground, gasping for air and for life as her killer stood over and aimed the gun at her head. The pain was overwhelming, the hot lead burning a path through her soft flesh. She put out a hand, desperate now.

  “Please, please … no … don’t … please …”

  Then there was only darkness.

  Inca, hearing Scarlett bang on the door, put down her broom and went to let her friend in. As she entered the kitchen, she stopped, her heart beating hard. Under the outside door, the rain water was flooding in at the bottom. With the water blood. Inca darted to the back door and pulled it open to see her friend prone on the floor.

  Inca Sardee took in the murdered form of her best friend and all of her systems shut down. She saw her friend, saw she was dead, but she did not understand. She fell to her knees and began to scream …

  Whiteout #3

  Sparks. If she unfocused her eyes and pretended they were sparks of light from Christmas twinkle lights, or something more calming than the endless red-blue flash of the emergency service vehicles, then maybe she would be able to bear this.

  No.

  This could never be bearable. Inca slid her eyes over to the sheet covering the body of her friend.

  How can you be gone?

  She kept hearing Scarlett’s laughter in her head, feeling the way her arms felt when she hugged Inca. The smell of her perfume. Kept seeing the blood. Scarlett’s eyes open and staring.

  Inca whirled around and threw up. She had refused to go inside, out of the ice storm, and now she was soaked through and shivering. She closed her eyes and felt a blanket being wrapped around her, someone pulling her close.

  “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  Nancy. Knox—poor, shocked, Knox—must have called her. When Inca had found Scarlett shot to death, her screams had brought people running, and now her throat felt raw and desiccated. Inca leaned against her mother and let her guide her inside.

  “I don’t want to leave her alone,” she whispered in a voice cracked with grief. Nancy kissed her head.

  “They’re taking her away now, sweetheart; they’ll look after her.”

  Inca nodded. God, why was she so tired? Was it the shock? “Where’s Dad?”

  “He went to get Tommaso. He thought it would be better for Tommaso to hear it from him, rather than let him find out via the police.”

  Inca felt a rush of gratitude. “That’s good. Thank you.”

  “He’ll be here soon.”

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Why is all this happening? All of it, the other murders, the weird stuff that’s being going on. And now this … who would kill Scarlett? Why?”

  Nancy hugged her daughter harder. “I don’t know, my darling. I wish I could tell you why. Bad stuff happens—it just seems we’re on a run of it. God, that doesn’t even cover it, does it? But I don’t have the answers you want. I’m sorry.”

  Inca nodded, sighing. Her eyes felt like they had sand in them. “Mom … about Tommaso and me …”

  Nancy smoothed the hair away from her face. “What is it?”

  It had been on the tip of Inca’s tongue to tell her about Raffaelo and how she felt about Tommaso’s brother, but then she faltered. Even she didn’t understand what was going on between them or how she now felt about Tommaso. She did love him; she had no doubt, but could you really love two people with this much ferocity?

  She was saved by the arrival of her father and Tommaso, whose stricken face told her everything she needed to know about how he felt about her. She went into his arms. He kissed the top of her head.

  “Thank God you’re okay, mio Dio, grazie a Dio, stai bene.”

  Inca sank into his embrace, breathing in his comforting scent. “Someone killed Scarlett, Tommaso.”

  “I’m so sorry, mio caro, so very sorry.”

  Inca saw Tyler and Nancy exchange worried looks, but she couldn’t process what they meant. Just then, Knox, pale, sickened, and grief-stricken came in. “Hey.”

  “Man, sit down before you fall down.” Tyler steered him into a chair and Nancy went to put some coffee on. Knox shook his head.

  “I don’t believe this is happening.” Inca pulled away from Tommaso and went to sit by the shaken cop. She took his hands in hers.

  “I’m so sorry, Knox. Where’s Olly? He should be handling this, not you.”

  Knox shook his head. “Look, I need to tell you something, all of you.” He looked meaningfully at Inca. “Olly’s been suspended. For breaking the terms of the restraining order.”

  Inca gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. Tommaso looked grim-faced and cursed softly in Italian. Inca looked at him—an unspoken communication passed between them, and Tommaso pulled out his phone.

  “I’ll rescind the order,” he said shortly, and stepped away from them to speak to his lawyer.

  Knox nodded gratefully.

  “It still might take some time to get him back, but thank you. I just cannot believe this; I was just with Scarlett.”

  Inca hugged him tightly. “I know … she came over to the Sakura after you got called out; I was just finishing up.”

  Knox nodded, his gaze fixed unseeing on a distant point for a moment. Then he looked at Inca. “Why was she wearing your coat?”

  Inca blinked. “She was taking the trash out for me.”

  “Okay.” Knox looked like he was about to say something else, but then a bunch of the crime scene investigators came in. The medical examiner shook hands with them, and Nancy fixed hot drinks for everyone. Outside, the ice storm was worsening.

  The medical examiner, Dr. Fielden, gave them the news. “She was shot three times: head, chest, and abdomen. I’m afraid she didn’t stand a chance, poor girl, but death would have been quick. I’ll obviously know more after the post-mortem.”

  Inca could feel nausea rising in her chest again. The doctor looked at her. “I believe you found her, Ms. Sardee? Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “No. I just keep seeing her face.”

  The doctor nodded sympathetically. “Understandable. Look, I’m sure the police will have plenty of questions for all of you, but for tonight, I suggest you go home and get some rest.” He glanced out of the window. “I hope we all get home safe in this.”

  “It’s bad out there,” said Knox in a dead, flat voice and the doctor studied him.

  “I think you shouldn’t be alone, Officer Westerwick. Not tonight.”

  “Come home with us, Knox,” Nancy said kindly, and he nodded.

  “Thank you, Nancy, Tyler. God … what the hell happened here tonight? How can she be gone?” And he broke down.

  Tommaso took Inca home and ran her a hot bath. She couldn
’t stop shivering and clung to him. “Come in with me.”

  She lay back against him in the hot water, feeling the warmth seep into her bones. Tommaso’s big, muscled arms wrapped around her, his fingers tracing a pattern on her belly. Inca closed her eyes, trying to scrape the image of Scarlett’s broken body out of her mind. Her shirt had the tell-tale bullet holes in it, but it was the head wound that really got to her. So small, so insignificant, that tiny hole just above Scarlett’s left eyebrow. So small, and yet it made everything so final.

  God.

  Tears began to pour down Inca’s face then, and Tommaso let her cry softly, his hands stroking her skin to comfort her. After the tears stopped, he lifted her out of the bath and dried her, carrying her to bed. They needed no words, knowing that they would make love as a way of trying to ease some of the pain. Tommaso wound her legs gently around his waist as his cock slid into her. Inca clung to him, wanting him to cover her, dominate her, make her feel safe again. She couldn’t come though, and afterward Tommaso held her, kissing her gently, watching her eyes, waiting for her to start talking.

  She stroked his face, feeling guilty for what they had all been through. “I’m sorry about … Raffaelo,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

  “It’s okay. It really is, mio caro. We don’t have to talk about that now.”

  She pressed her lips to his. “I do love you, Tommaso.”

  “And I love you. But, bella, let’s be honest. You love Raff too.”

  She nodded, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “I know it’s incredibly selfish, but I don’t know how to give either of you up.”

  He drew his hand down her body. “I think tonight has shown us that if there is no need to give something up, then maybe we shouldn’t.”

  Inca was confused. “What do you mean?”

  Tommaso gave her a strange smile. “It doesn’t matter tonight, Inca. Sleep now.”

  Inca didn’t think she could sleep, but with Tommaso’s gentle caresses, she soon fell into a nightmare-plagued slumber.

  Tommaso slid from the bed and called Raffaelo in Italy. He told his brother what had happened and Raff was horrified. “Is Inca okay?”

  Tommaso sighed. “No, Raff, she’s not. Come home. She needs you.”

  Raffaelo hesitated. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “You can.” Tommaso’s voice hardened. “You can, and you must. We have done this to our girl; we made her fall in love with us. We must be there for her now. Both of us.”

  “Both?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long pause before Tommaso heard Raffaelo’s sigh. “I’m on my way.”

  Olly Rosenbaum was woken by a telephone call from his boss and told he was reinstated, effective immediately. He didn’t find out about Scarlett’s murder, though, until he flicked on the television as he ate his breakfast. He lost his appetite immediately. Rushing down to the Sakura, he found it surrounded with crime scene tape and deserted by everyone except journalists. At the rear, he saw blood frozen to the ground and felt sick. He felt confused, sickened, and lost. Not knowing what to do, he went to the police station, where he saw Knox.

  He hugged his friend tight. “I’m so sorry, man.”

  Knox gave a tight nod. “I just want to find who did this.”

  “What have we got so far?”

  He filled Olly in. “The thing I keep coming back to is … Scarlett was wearing Inca’s raincoat. What if the killer was targeting Inca and not Scarlett?”

  Olly felt sick. “A possibility … but you and I both know that killers rarely change methods. The guy threatening Inca—if it wasn’t Kevin Harnett— always, always, stabbed his victims to death. So, if Inca was the intended target, then it was probably someone different, and more worryingly, it was someone who knew her well enough to know that it was her coat. It’s just a plain raincoat, right?”

  Knox considered. “You might be right.”

  “He’s not.”

  They both turned to see Inca, flanked by Tommaso Winter, at the door of their office. Inca was pale as she stepped into the room, her phone in her hand. She looked down at it as she read out what was obviously a text message. “I thought she was you. That’s why I ended her pain with the headshot. If it had been you, like it was supposed to be, you would have gotten all six in your belly so that you would have suffered what you deserve, you bitch. You’re going to die soon, Inca, and no one can save you.”

  She handed the phone to Olly then, who read it back, shaking his head. Inca looked at Knox, her eyes full of pain.

  “It should have been me, Knox. I’m so sorry. I wish it had been me instead of Scarlett; I would give anything to change places with her.”

  Tommaso gave a choked, distressed sound and she turned to him, putting a hand on his chest. Knox got up and put his hands on her shoulders. “It shouldn’t have been either of you, Inks. We’ll catch the son of a bitch who did this. I promise.”

  Olly nodded, but Inca noticed he didn’t look at Tommaso once. It was as if he didn’t exist. “We’ll get him, Inca. Can you stay awhile? We’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Of course.”

  Tommaso—who ignored Olly too—kissed her cheek. “Darling, Raff is flying in from Italy this morning—I’ll go pick him up. Stay here until we come for you, okay? To be safe?”

  He looked at Knox, who nodded. “Don’t worry, Tommaso. She’ll be safe with me.”

  Olly waited until Tommaso had left before speaking again. “So, why he’d drop the restraining order?”

  Knox gave him a warning look, but Inca sighed. “He realized he’d overreacted and, given the situation last night, he thought you being suspended was not helpful.”

  Olly rolled his eyes and Inca half-smiled at him. “He backed down, Olly. Now you have to do your bit.”

  Olly held his hands up. “Fine. Now, let’s get some coffee and talk.”

  Raffaelo hadn’t slept on the flight back to Seattle. All he could think of was Inca lying dead on the freezing ground, riddled with bullets. What was it about her that made men’s bloodlust flow so vehemently?

  Lust. Desire. Jealousy.

  Speaking of which … what had Tommaso meant?

  She needs both of us.

  Was he really suggesting they share Inca?

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Tommaso said an hour later as he turned the car towards the city and pulled away from the airport. “Obviously, it’s up to Inca, but if she wants both of us, I want to make sure she is given every chance of happiness.”

  Raffaelo studied his brother. “Tommaso … have you been taking your medication?”

  Tommaso half-smiled. “This is not that, Raff; I promise. Nor is it some kind of masochistic act of self-sabotage. We just need to think differently and not care about what society thinks. We are both in love with Inca; she is in love with both of us. Should she choose one of us over the other—we’ll deal with that later. Until then …”

  “Are you talking about sleeping with her? Both of us?”

  Tommaso nodded, looking faintly surprised. “Of course. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

  Raff turned away from his brother’s intense gaze. “So this is about Perdita.”

  “No.” Tommaso’s voice softened. “It’s not. Come on, Raff. How many times have we taken women back to our bed?”

  “Once or twice.”

  “And those women meant nothing. Inca is everything.”

  And Raffaelo could not argue with his brother.

  Inca looked over to the Sakura. She could not imagine ever going back into the place she had spent the last few years trying to make a success. Not now. She felt desolate and empty. Suddenly she was grateful someone else had bought the apartment from under her. Knowing she was sleeping above the place where Scarlett was murdered …

  No. I couldn’t.

  Thank God for Tommaso insisting she move in with him and Raffaelo. She couldn’t help feeling a little excited that Raff was coming bac
k from Italy. She felt like she was tumbling from a tightrope all the time now, and only Raff and Tommaso could hold her up. Someone—or someones—hated her enough to want to kill her, and if it hadn’t been for Tommaso and Raffaelo, she might have been tempted to give herself to her would-be killer to stop others dying. A part of her still wanted that.

  Inca looked around the quiet police office. Olly had gone to speak to the cops working the homicide, and now she sat alone with Knox. Her friend looked shattered, and she realized he could not have slept at all.

  “I’m sorry, Knox,” she said in a soft voice, and he half-smiled at her.

  “Stop saying that, Inks. It’s not your fault.” He reached over and took her hand. “We’ve gotten in touch with Scarlett’s parents; they’re coming down from Everett now.”

  Inca shook her head. “God. I can’t imagine.”

  “Yes, you can. We can all imagine what they’re going through.”

  “Yeah.”

  Knox was studying her. “Did you get checked out at the hospital, Inks?”

  “I wasn’t hurt.”

  “Not physically, but …”

  He was interrupted by the arrival of Tommaso and Raffaelo. Inca felt her face burn when she saw Raff, and his eyes fixed on hers, soft, concerned. Tommaso had heard what Knox said.

  “We’ll ask our doctor to take a look at her.”

  Inca felt irritated. “I am here, you know.”

  Tommaso half-smiled. “Sorry. Look, are you free to go? We need to talk to you. Both of us.”

  Knox nodded. “Inca’s been very helpful.”

  Inca hugged him.

  “Knox, go to Nancy’s and get some rest.”

  “I will. Thanks, Inks.”

  The fires were lit when they reached the Winter mansion, and Inca was glad of the warmth. Outside, the snow had begun to fall heavily, with blizzards predicted, so the house had been preparing for possible isolation. All the staff had been sent home to their families. Raff poured them all a glass of warming scotch and Inca pulled her legs up under her as she watched the two brothers silently move around the room.