Not So Prince Charming: A Dirty Fairy Tale

by Lauren Landish

  I nod, glad we’d gone over including Char, and we’d put together something for her last night in our strategy plan. With Gabe telling Blackwell I had a protective detail, the guards would realize I’m missing in action pretty quickly and report to Thomas. So my girls should be losing their shit and circling the wagons.

  And now, my part of the plan is basically to stay in hiding. It’s a pretty vital part of the whole scenario, since I’m supposed to be dead and all.

  The elevator dings, and Mia shoots me a look. I hop into the pantry, closing the door, just in case. But a second later, the elevator opens and Charlotte comes barreling in. “Someone had better tell me what is going on immediately.”

  I come out and am swept up in Charlotte’s arms for a hug. “Fuck, girl. We always worry about you, but Mia said you’re in some real trouble. Not that Russell isn’t real, or your school stuff isn’t important, but this is like next-level. You okay?”

  I smile as much as I can, hugging her back. “Yeah, for now. Though this is all way above my paygrade. I’m having to trust Gabe and Thomas to figure some shit out and set all this right. And you know how much I love to depend on other people to handle my life.”

  The sarcasm stings, but it’s the truth. I do wish I could just stomp my way into the Blackwell building, tell him to fuck off in an epic mic drop, and go on with my life.

  But it’s not that easy, and I have to admit that someone else is probably better equipped to address this strategically. In the meantime, while I stay hidden, I need distraction. I need my besties.

  Mia and Char glance at each other and then take action. “Lunch and rom-com movie, stat. We’ve got you, girl.” And then like whirling dervishes, Charlotte pulls plates and glasses from the cabinets and Mia disappears to the media room to get the movie set up.

  Char opens the fridge, and I happen to catch a glimpse of the inside. It’s stocked full, and I do mean full, of what looks to be the entirety of a grocery store. “Damn, I wish my fridge looked like that! Is that a whole container of raspberries?”

  I must sound more desperate than the awe I was aiming for because Charlotte turns around, a frown on her face. “Izzy.”

  But I cut her off with a hand extended, shaking my head. “Nope. I’m fine.”

  She presses her lips into a thin line, holding back the argument she wants to make, settling for grabbing the berries and setting the whole bowl in front of me. “Eat.”

  I don’t argue, popping one of the bright fruits into my mouth and moaning at the explosion of sour sweetness on my tongue.

  Mia chooses that moment to walk back into the kitchen, grinning. “I’ll have what she’s having if it’ll make me sound like that.”

  I laugh around a mouthful. “Ha-ha, Sally, but we’re not watching you fake an orgasm over lunch.”

  The movie reference makes them both smile, reassuring them in a small way that I’m okay.

  “Apparently, we’re listening to you moan and groan, so what’s the difference?” Mia teases back. “Speaking of moaning and groaning, I want every dirty detail of your weekend away. And don’t you dare tell me that you two holed up in a safe house and didn’t get any action.”

  I shake my head, protesting. “We were scared for my life, on the run. Sex was the last thing on our minds while we tried to figure out a way out of this mess.”

  My girls look at one another, using each other as a barometer, then simultaneously reach behind their backs and toss invisible flags into the air, Mia whistling loudly. “Calling bullshit on that. Flag on the conversation.”

  I laugh and give in. “Fine, there was action. But those dirty details are all mine.”

  Charlotte gives me a friendly pop on the shoulder, making a mock-angry face. “Spoil sport! I’m living vicariously through you.”

  I rub my shoulder, even though she didn’t hurt me. It’s just part of the game, and I’m willing to immerse myself in it for a bit to keep myself sane. “Well, I’m just trying to see tomorrow, so you’ll have to find your own dick for entertaining stories.”

  She smirks, weaving her head back and forth. “Fine, no dick tales from you and definitely none from me, then what about the rest of all this? Are you sure about Gabe, about hiding out, about Blackwell not coming after you? What about Russell?”

  “I changed my mind, let’s talk about the awesome sex,” I reply, my forced levity dissolving as I find myself torn between my friends’ attempts at cheering me up and the worry about where Gabe is and whether he’s safe.

  But I realize that right now, I need a deeper conversation than how much meat my man’s packing between his legs.

  “Actually, I don’t know what’s up with Russell. He definitely saw Gabe and me together, and Gabe definitely put him in the hospital based on the beating he gave him, so that could come back to haunt us. But I feel like Russell is small potatoes compared to everything else.”

  “After Gabe told us what happened with Russell, I did a little research online using the town’s arrest records, and more importantly, the Roseboro rumor mill,” Mia shares, sitting down on a stool. “So word is, Russell doesn’t remember getting a beatdown. He woke up, or I guess regained consciousness is more accurate, and got himself to the hospital. Right now, he’s claiming he doesn’t remember who, but everyone thinks he pissed off the wrong rock slinger.”

  “Wait, so Gabe’s totally in the clear there?” I ask, shocked. Did Russell get hit in the head, or was he really that scared by what happened? No cops, no pissed off Russell? “That’s awesome, better than we’d hoped.”

  “We?” Charlotte says, busting me and returning our focus to the topic she wants most. Gabe.

  “Yeah, we,” I say, blushing just a little bit. “We might’ve gotten a weird start—actually, we’re still mid-weirdness—but we’ve got something. He’s something . . . special.”

  Mia coughs, not subtle at all as she says, “Tell her everything.”

  And for the second time in just over twelve hours, I’m running through everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, from both my perspective and Gabe’s point of view. It’s harder not having Gabe to fill in the parts that he did last night, when he gave me an out in the difficult areas, but I power through it, knowing I need to toughen up and be strong if I’m going to get through this. And that means facing my best friends and admitting that I’m falling for Gabe.

  As I wrap it up, Char looks like she’s about to be sick. “How in the world am I supposed to go to work in that building, work for that monster, when he put out a hit on my best friend?”

  I give her a hug, patting her on the back. “With a smile, that’s how. We don’t know what Thomas and Gabe are finding out or what we’re going to do yet, so in the meantime, you’re going to play along. Act like I’m missing, be worried, but try to carry on, and if it gets to the point that you have to pretend I’m gone, we’ll put in a plan to cover that. Start with taking a few days off, like you’re poking around and worried, also known as laying low and staying safe. Because if he targeted me, he could target you.”

  She nods, though she looks uncertain. I understand. She doesn’t really recognize just how much danger she’s in. Until I saw Gabe and Rusty, I didn’t understand either.

  After a long moment, Charlotte says, “Okay, movie time. Let’s do this because I don’t think my brain can take any more. I need a fluffy comedy with a guaranteed happily ever after. And then, I’m making us cupcakes. I’m trying a new recipe and I need testers.”

  “Deal,” I say, and Mia echoes my sentiment a half-beat later.

  I love these girls. My best friends, who would support me through just about anything, up to and including fake deaths and conspiracies, apparently.

  Chapter 31

  Gabriel

  I pull my hoodie over my head, even though the night makes it unneeded. But the more generic I can be, the better, and disappearing into the darkness is a definite benefit.

  Coming around the corner of the narrow road, I approach th
e building in front of me, an old industrial-looking place with a sign out front that says Roseboro Textile Services. The drive here had taken me almost an hour, not because of the distance but because of how careful I’d been to lose anyone who might be following. At this point, I have full faith that Blackwell has a tail on me, and while I haven’t identified who it is, I’m going to be careful.

  I’m a dangerous guy, but I’m far from the only shark in the water.

  That’s why we’re having this meeting here, a place unrelated to either of us and therefore untraceable.

  Checking the door, there’s a worn title painted on the metal . . . shift supervisor. This is the place.

  I don’t knock, but out of habit, I stand back and to the side as I swing the door open, making sure I don’t stand in the area most people are likely to aim. But no gunshot or threat comes, just a deep voice from the dimly-lit interior.

  “Come on in. We’re clear.”

  I step into the room, plain and bare save for a dented government surplus metal desk and a couple of beat-down chairs. Thomas sits in one, gesturing to the other. Closing the office door behind me, I cross the small space and sit.

  There’s a bit of a silent tension coursing between us for a moment, neither of us used to working with others, at least not like this, when everything we care about is on the line. Finally, he starts. “How’d the meeting with Blackwell go?”

  It’s the icebreaker we need to get this ball rolling. No accusations, no bullshit. Just focus on the job at hand. “Okay,” I say, humming as I think back. “He seemed to buy Bella’s death, but he wanted to see the body, not just pictures and video. I told him to go get the damn body himself if he wanted it so bad. He believed it enough to give me the information that was my main payment, so that’s something.”

  I shrug, but my brows knit together.

  “What?” Thomas asks.

  “It was too easy,” I admit, leaning back in the chair as I try to recall all the details of the incident. “Blackwell is slick and smart, and he took me at my word that it was done. Too easy, which means he probably knows something’s up.”

  “Maybe, but those pictures and video were pretty fucking believable. Maybe he wants to believe it enough to not look too closely. Especially since Izzy’s not really his objective. I am.” I can hear the pinch of pain in his voice. “Fuck, I never should’ve gotten her mixed up in this.”

  I toss him a small grin. “Don’t know that you would’ve had much of a choice. I don’t know Mia, but if Bella thought for one second that she could help you, she’d do it. No matter the cost.”

  He nods, seeing the wisdom of my words. “That’s true. But look how that’s ended up. What do we do now?”

  There’s a tone to his voice that immediately increases my respect for him. Since our first meeting last night, I’ve wondered how he, the law-abiding businessman, would react to me, the law-breaking hitman.

  Mia, I had no worries. Once she saw that Bella had chosen me, she’s been all about the data, about using her skills to protect her family.

  But Thomas . . . well, I couldn’t know for sure he wasn’t just putting on a front for his woman until this moment. He looks at me not as someone who’s looking to be told what to do, shirking his responsibility in favor of my voice of experience with the seedier side of business. But also not with disdain or disgust, trying to take over as the mover and shaker he typically is.

  Instead, he’s looking and talking to me like a teammate, knowing that we both have skills the other can use and that by operating as a single unit with a single objective, we can find success.

  Just in this case, success means safety, not profit.

  “First, what would you do if Bella were actually missing?” I ask him. “That’s your next step. Go to the media? Private investigators? Police? Obviously, I’d prefer not to utilize that option, but it could be unavoidable. But what would your instincts be if something really did happen? A big, public spectacle on TV asking for help, or a quiet, behind-the-scenes investigation?”

  Thomas thinks, then says without a trace of arrogance, “Depends on the situation. If I thought it was her prick of a landlord, I’d be down there myself with the cops. Something like this, though . . . I’m a man of means, with a reputation and image to uphold. I wouldn’t involve the police or the media, not at first. I’d be expecting a ransom note, to be honest. I’d definitely hire a PI.”

  I nod, agreeing. “Then do that, someone local so Blackwell knows about it quickly to validate that you believe Bella is missing. You and Mia should take him to Bella’s house, maybe even to The Gravy Train so it looks like he’s investigating Bella’s life. But do your best not to freak Martha out, okay? She cares about Bella and I don’t want to torture her needlessly.”

  “And Blackwell?”

  We’re treading into murky areas, and I measure Thomas honestly. “Do you really want to know the dark plans of evil men?”

  Thomas nods. “Firstly, I don’t think you’re evil.”

  “I’m not good,” I retort. “Maybe just a different kind of evil?”

  “Perhaps, but that’s an argument for another time,” Thomas says. “Second, I’m not the kind of man who sends others to do my dirty work just to keep my hands clean. If we need to do dark acts, then I want to know and want to be a part of it if I can. This is my family involved. I won’t sit in the background.”

  My respect for him increases ten-fold. “Fine. My gut tells me to kill the bastard, though it’d be difficult with the degree of security he keeps. It could also be messy, considering he has to be expecting something.” I can see the tightness around Thomas’s eyes. “But I’m guessing that’s not really your style.”

  Thomas sighs, looking around the room. “You ever known someone who does the right things for the wrong reasons?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, continuing on with his point. “I feel like that’s Blackwell. He has done some amazing things for Roseboro, and for a long time, I looked up to him as a business leader. But where most people would feel good about helping the library get new books, or a Little League team getting uniforms, he sees it as a way to gain notoriety. He gets off on galas in his honor, statues in his likeness, and brass plates with his name on them.”

  I tilt my head, curious. “Sounds like you know him rather well?”

  But Thomas shakes his head, “Barely had more than small talk with the man in all the years we’ve traveled in the same circles. But you can just sense it from some people, you know?”

  “I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people.”

  Thomas nods. “Regardless of this situation with Izzy, we need to eliminate this threat. Blackwell lives off the power, the legend he’s created in his own mind. I think that’s where I can hurt him the most. Take away his influence, make him powerless and inconsequential. Becoming obsolete and forgettable, that’s his fear.”

  It’s a good plan, though more of a subtle long game than my style typically calls for.

  “You might be right, but here’s what I know. There are people who do wrong just for wrong’s sake, for the hell of it because it’s fun for them in some sick, twisted way. And they’re unpredictable, you can’t put them in a box or make plans for what you think they’ll do because they’ll surprise you at every turn. They don’t think like you and me. Blackwell’s a man who is not going to go quietly into the long night, he’s capable of outright evil beyond what either of us would consider. Are you prepared for that? Because what you’re describing is a war of attrition.”

  I pause, letting that sink in. “He’s been playing that strategy too, but the game just changed when you became aware of it. And the longer you let this play out, the more dangerous he becomes. If you back him into a corner, step by step, he’ll reach a threshold where he acts out in unexpected ways. The slow dance you’re both doing will go nuclear. You already didn’t see his moves with the sabotage and me, so I’m afraid you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

  Thomas’
eyes tighten, and his fist clenches on the desk. But I don’t let up, adding the cherry on top of the bad news. “If you’re wrong in this approach, Bella pays the price.”

  He fires back. “And Mia, and me, and Roseboro. I can respect that Bella is your concern, but as important as she is, this is bigger than her. You waited to come to us with this, knowing you could make moves to set up a better solution. I’m asking you to do the same for me. Let me figure some shit out, see what I can do and how I can situate us to handle Blackwell once and for all.”

  It’s against my nature. Teamwork, delays, slick corporate business deals. I don’t want to do any of it, would rather just slash and burn Blackwell to the ground and stomp on the ashes of his life.

  And that’s exactly why I agree with Thomas’s request. I want to step out of the darkness of my grief, my solitary life, my anger at the world that I take out on my victims. They’re not innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination, but this is the first step to living in the light with Bella, of creating a life instead of destroying them. My one shot at happiness, and I’m going to take it.

  “Okay, but you need to move fast. Because I suspect Blackwell isn’t done with you, and you’re playing catch-up for plans he’s already set in motion.”

  Thomas dips his chin once and starts to get up, but I hold out a staying hand.

  “Wait, I have two things before we call this meeting to a close.” It’s the smallest of jokes, that a guy like me has some sort of fancy business meeting with a guy like him, but Thomas’s lips tilt upward. “A favor and a question.”

  “Shoot,” he says, then grimaces. “Uh, not literally.”