Lies_simple

by Scott, Kylie

  It’s Badger. The supposedly recently deceased Badger.

  “Holy shit. He’s the bad guy!”

  A doorman in one of those black uniforms with shiny gold buttons opens the taxi door as soon as the car pulls up outside the hotel. Despite the crap weather, there are plenty of people coming and going. I stride into the lobby, a woman on a mission. This isn’t a job for the Escada suit, despite the opulent surroundings. I stuck with black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket. Along with lots of mascara and winged eyeliner for confidence and good luck, of course. Cell phone and some cash are stuck in my back pocket. I try Thom on my cell one more time, just in case. No answer, and no indication that he’s read my message.

  It’s not my fault I broke almost all the rules and left the apartment. Thom needs to be told. If Badger shoots him in the back because he didn’t get warned the guy was still alive and kicking, I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t stay hidden away while Thom’s in danger. So I’m just going to have to be very brave and get this done despite being shit-scared and way out of my depth.

  I do a discreet wander around the main lobby area, searching for a familiar face or two. Music streams out of the crowded bar. A jazz pianist, by the sounds of things. How cool. But there’s no sign of Bear or Thom anywhere. The only thing I know for certain is that they were scouting out this hotel and planning a meet with Helene Sinclair. If the scouting section of the mission is finished, then there’s only one thing for me to do. I need to get up to the penthouse suite and locate Thom there. Hopefully.

  Three people stand behind the reception counter and only a couple are waiting to be served, or checked in, or whatever. Luggage sits at their feet. No one at the concierge desk right now, and this suits me fine. I pick my prey carefully. He’s the youngest one on duty. The newest member of staff, most likely. Also, he seems slightly flustered, frowning at the screen in front of him. Of course, what I’m about to attempt could all backfire spectacularly. Odds are probably about even. But at least I’ll have tried.

  “Hi, I’m supposed to fix the arrangements in Helene Sinclair’s room,” I say, sliding him the business card I picked up from Molly’s Flowers and moving the bunch of white roses that I bought from the shop up in my arms a little. I’ve got a whole bullshit presentation thing happening here.

  The young man, whose name tag says “Cory,” just blinks.

  “She’s staying in the penthouse, apparently.”

  Now he frowns.

  “Sorry.” I give him a brief smile. “I’m Liz from Molly’s Flowers. Guess I should have led with that. Anyway, Molly sent me in since she’s at a thing right now and can’t get away.” That part of my story was at least somewhat true. Molly’s enthusiasm for Instagram made her frighteningly easy to stalk. “Apparently your guest has severe allergies, but someone forgot to notify us about it. It’s a disaster. So I need to remove the white oriental lilies and fix things up as best I can, since they can’t get an actual replacement arrangement here until the morning, after we’ve gotten our delivery from the markets. You know how it is.”

  “Oh,” he says, just a dash of panic in his gaze. “Ah…”

  “I know right? Such a pain in the rear.” I sigh. “Can you give me a card to quickly pop up there and get this done, or will you need to escort me? How do we do this?”

  “You work with Molly?” he asks.

  “She’s my boss. You’ve met her? Isn’t she great?” At least she looked nice enough on her website. My smile is all things friendly and inviting as I lean closer. “I’m new there. I guess that’s why I’ve been assigned this task. Everyone has to pay their dues, huh?”

  “Yeah. Tell me about it.” His posture relaxes as he shoots his coworkers farther down the counter disgruntled looks. However, both seem oblivious to his inner pain.

  “The concierge must be off running an errand, and I really can’t wait around.”

  “Just give me a minute.” He picks up the phone and dials Sinclair’s room. For a moment, he just listens. “No answer.”

  “Thank goodness. That means she’s not back yet, and we can get those lilies out before she gets anywhere near the pollen. It’d probably be all our asses on the line if she wakes up tomorrow covered in hives. Moll said she’s some bigwig at the U.N. It’d be a PR disaster if we hadn’t caught this in time. We just dodged a bullet, you and I.” I raise my brows in a phew-type fashion.

  “Okay…um, listen,” he says, also leaning in closer and lowering his voice. “I’m due to go on my break, but I can escort you up there first. That should be fine.”

  “Really? That would be so great.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks so much, Cory. I really appreciate it.” I was prepared to try and bluff the manager if I had to, but this is ideal.

  There’s a discreet swagger to his step as we head for the row of elevators. I’ve made him feel important. Stroked his ego a little. Now I must find Thom before this all blows up in my face. Inside the exclusive elevator just for the penthouse suite, everything is mirrored and trimmed with gold. Soft music does little to soothe my jagged nerves. My hands are once again shaking and I’m sweating my butt off. But the stupid smile stays plastered on my face. Even when I bust Cory checking out my cleavage. The kid is not subtle. And while using him doesn’t feel good, it is necessary. Lives could very well be on the line here.

  I make good use of his distraction by slipping my gun out, keeping it covered by the roses. Eventually the elevator doors open.

  Time comes to such a sudden stop that I almost get whiplash. In slow motion, my mind makes a whole bunch of useless observations. A large art-deco style room with white walls and luxurious furnishings. A black grand piano. A wall of windows looking out onto the lights of New York. But it’s all just background noise to the shocking scene in front of me.

  There are two dead bodies dressed in suits and leaking blood. Strangers. No one I know. And six people holding guns on each other. Some of them wearing balaclavas. One of them is noticeably smaller than the others. A woman, perhaps.

  On the opposite side of the room, facing toward me, are Thom and Bear, and I can just glimpse another smaller figure, sheltered behind Bear’s huge frame. Probably the boss-lady they’re here to protect. Then there are three men standing with their backs to Cory and me, like maybe they were waiting for the elevator to make their escape. Everyone has weapons out, leveled at each other. Guess it’s a stalemate.

  Thom steals a glance at me, his jawline shifting in apparent anger. But Bear ignores our arrival entirely, keeping his focus on the scene. Then one of the men standing in front of us turns, and it’s Badger.

  All of these details go through my mind in a moment. There’s no time to think them over. No time to assess the situation. I just drop the flowers, aim my weapon at Badger’s center mass and fire. Boom.

  And it begins.

  “What the f—” It’s as far as Cory gets before something pops and a red bloom spreads across his chest and he falls.

  Meanwhile, Badger drops to his knees, gun still pointed at Cory. Then he topples over, dead before he hits the floor.

  “Betty, get down!” yells Thom.

  I do as told and hit the floor as all hell breaks loose. The popping noise of guns with silencers versus the louder thunderclap of your regular pistols. Something I know care of watching too many action movies in my youth.

  Realizing they’re trapped between two sides, Badger’s accomplices dive off to my right, firing as they do. Oh fuck me. I crouch down against the elevator wall, hands covering my ears. The doors try again and again to close but Cory’s body blocks them. Blood is everywhere.

  “Get her out of here!” yells Thom, squatting behind a couch.

  Bear hustles the lady toward me and the elevator. A porcelain vase shatters on a nearby pedestal. White flowers scatter all around us. Chips of the marble flooring fly through the air as one of the balaclava people sprays bullets in our direction. Bits of stuffing from the couches explode ou
t as bullets fly from Thom returning fire.

  One of the bad guys trying to dart to the side wasn’t fast enough. Whoever it is wearing the balaclava in front of the elevator doors lets out a pained grunt and stumbles. Black really does hide the blood. He seems to be falling in slow motion when another bullet hits him in the head. Blood and brains and bone spew out of the exit wound. There’s no hiding that.

  Bear arrives and pushes the woman into the opposite corner of the elevator, covering her with his body. She has gray hair, and she looks elegant, even amid all the carnage. Someone’s shouting. I can’t hear what. Thom jumps out from behind a wingback chair, sprinting across the room as the last living bad guy keeps shooting. I cringe as Bear pushes Cory out of the way. He takes no care with the young man’s body. Not that it matters to Cory anymore.

  But I did that. I got him killed.

  Thom finally joins us, sliding in the blood, almost losing his footing. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, the elevator doors close on the scene. Bullets ping off the metal. One thunks into the wall above my head. All I can smell is gunpowder, dust, and blood. Also, my mind is spiraling. Definitely not keeping up with current events. I notice blood on the white roses. Even discarded and half-trampled, the red speckles on the white petals look kind of pretty.

  “Stay down,” orders Thom. “What the hell are you doing here, Betty?”

  I try to find the words. They’re just kin of, sort of not there right now. Finally we begin to descend. We’re all in there: me, Bear, Thom, and the lady. Safe for the moment. Oh my God.

  “Why did you leave the apartment?” he growls.

  “Had to tell you Badger is alive,” I say, voice choked for some reason. “I saw him in the back of a photo, and I thought he might be the bad guy and might try to kill you and…yeah.”

  He swears softly.

  “That was really scary,” I say, exhaling slowly.

  Thom kneels beside me, holding me tight against him. Then he swears some more. Apparently he’s in a super-sweary mood. I can relate.

  “I shot someone.” The information doesn’t quite compute. Guess my brain still isn’t working right. Mostly I just feel numb. “Killed them.”

  “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need to get that gun out of sight.”

  “Right. Okay.” I do as told.

  Bear, meanwhile, has been busy on his cell phone. “Your car is being brought around right now, ma’am.”

  “We’re taking you out the front door,” Thom says to her. “If they got to you up here, it’s likely the underground exit is already compromised.”

  The elegant older woman nods and pats down her hair, pulling herself back together. “My security are dead. I trust you’re available to temporarily replace them starting immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Thom swallows. “Everyone on their feet. We’re going to make our way through the lobby as calmly and quickly as possible. Bear, you take the lead. Mrs. Sinclair, please follow closely behind him. Betty and I will take up the back.”

  As soon as the elevator doors open onto the lobby, Bear is stepping out, confronting the anxious-looking security guards waiting to go up, likely to check out all the noise coming from the suite. Guns are loud. Even the silenced ones aren’t actually silent. Then there’s all of the blood splattered around the elevator.

  “FBI,” says Bear, flashing some doubtless fake I.D. “Step back, please. Keep out of the way.”

  Surprise flickers across the two men’s faces. But they do as told. The nearest one says, “Agent—”

  “Establish a cordon. Allow no one up to the penthouse suite. More agents will be along shortly to handle the situation.”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  We hustle through the space, moving double -time as ordered. The side of my jeans are clinging to my leg, wet with Cory’s blood. All of the marble and crystal and beauty of the place is lost on me. In my mouth there’s an off, sort of sour taste. Violence taints everything. We cut through the crowd, not slowing down for anyone or anything.

  A big black luxury sedan with tinted windows waits for us out front. They weren’t kidding about the car being brought around right away. Though if you can afford to stay in the penthouse suite, you’re probably used to such service.

  Bear pushes aside the porter holding open the rear door of the vehicle. Then he sticks his head inside, checking out the interior. Mrs. Sinclair climbs into the car.

  “Betty, get in the back,” says Thom, giving me a gentle push.

  Meanwhile, Bear drags the driver out of the vehicle, flashing his I.D. once more. The man sputters, wearing the same startled expression as the hotel security dudes. Thom then climbs into the passenger side, doors slam shut, and we’re on our way, pulling out into traffic.

  Safe for the moment. At least, I hope we are.

  “Glass is bulletproof?” asks Thom.

  “Yes.” Mrs. Sinclair nods. “I have a property several hours away on the Hudson. We’ll go there.”

  “Ma’am, it wouldn’t be safe to—”

  “It’s safe. It cannot be traced to me.” Her chin rises. “Believe me, young man, I fully realize the gravity of this situation. I’ve been involved in this business longer than you’ve been alive.”

  Thom turns in his seat, assessing the woman with his serious eyes.

  “Secret or not, many enemies have been made by the members of the committee over the years. I was not blind to the eventuality of just such an attempt on my life.”

  He nods. “We’ll go to the estate.”

  Helene rattles off the address.

  “You know who that was up there who got away?” asks Bear.

  “I know.” Thom’s voice is hard with anger. “Scorpion’s still alive.”

  “You recognized her even with the balaclava?” I ask.

  “She spoke just before you came in. Wanted us to know it was her. Guess she was only wearing the balaclava for the sake of any cameras. Now we just have to figure out who the hell she’s working with.”

  “At least Badger’s appearance upstairs confirms why comms were down,” says Helene. “I’ve been trying to contact you for days.”

  “Nice to know you hadn’t abandoned us.”

  “Abandoned you? After all the money we’ve poured into each of you and this venture? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Speaking of which, someone’s got to be funding this bullshit,” says Bear.

  “That would be the late Lord Blackmead’s son, Archer. Lord Blackmead is…was on the director’s board with me.” Helene takes a deep, steadying breath. “Archie approached me several weeks ago with a proposition to make assets available to the private sector…for the right price. I tried to warn his lordship about his heir apparent, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  Thom turns in his seat. “Archie wants to sell our services on the open market?”

  “Oh yes,” says Helene. “Has all sorts of grand plans for turning you into his own private army for hire, and making a good deal of money while he’ss at it. None of which were in keeping with the organization’s original objective.”

  “So he had shares already or just inherited them?”

  Helen shakes her head. “There are no actual shares. This is more in the way of a philanthropic venture,” she says. “But he’s now inherited his father’s place and obviously plans to undermine us and all we’ve done.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I said no, of course. This morning I offered to buy his newly inherited seat at the table. Recompense him for the sum total of his father’s financial involvement in the organization over the years. He didn’t take it well.”

  “What about Charles Adisa?”

  “So you know about him too, hmm? You have been busy. Nice to know all my money has been well-spent. Yes, Charles is the third and final member of the committee that runs the organization you’re both employed by.” Helene crosses her legs, smoothing down the skirt of her black dress. She seems way more together than I am. Perhaps she’s bee
n in the middle of a shootout before. Looked death in the eye and lived to see another day.

  “Charles was no more receptive to that little shit’s nonsense than I was. We are not here to turn a profit. This organization was started by our families not long after World War II. All three of the founding members had lost children on the battlefield. So they strove to monitor hostile situations on an international level and hopefully deal with them before they escalated beyond control. We’re not always successful, but that will never stop us from trying.”

  No one says anything.

  “Then what?” asks Thom, jaw gritted. “He approached the operatives most likely to go along with him or willing to sell out, and then set about killing the rest?”

  Bear exhales. “Sure sounds that way. Asshole.”

  “Scorpion’s morals have always been flexible, but I never thought she’d screw us over like this.”

  “I’m not.”

  Thom’s brows rise ever so slightly.

  “It’s the truth,” says Bear. “You two might have gotten along once upon a time. But there was never any loyalty there. And Badger was always a dubious little shit. Can’t entirely blame them. I mean, sometimes it’s nice to save the world. But it can be even nicer to get paid lots of money.”

  Thom grunts. “Yeah? So why are you here?”

  “Me?” Bear laughs. “I try not to be a raging asshole whenever possible. It’s a lifestyle choice. Besides, I like to think of us as friends…sort of.”

  “Right. Would have thought Spider’d be up for selling us out.”

  “Guess he said no, otherwise he wouldn’t be deceased, same as Hawk. Nice to know people can still surprise us.”