Her mother picked up the phone on the third ring, out of breath. “Hi Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Kyra, I was outside when the phone rang. I forgot to take the portable with me.”
“Mom, Dad tells you all the time to take it with you. What if something happened or you needed to call for help?” Kyra lectured.
“I’m fine, Kyra.”
“I’m running behind at work. Can you put Trevor on?”
“The bus hasn’t come yet.” Kyra didn’t respond. “Are you there, dear?”
“Yes. Mom, have Trevor call me at work when the bus drops him off, okay?”
“Okay…Kyra, how are you doing?”
She heard the concern in her mother’s voice. Ignore it, she’s playing you. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“You haven’t been over since our conversation. We miss you.”
“Mom, I don’t want to do this now. I’m at work.”
“Kyra, we still love you. It’s for your own good.”
“Yeah, right. I have to go, make sure he calls me.” She clunked down the phone before her mother could reply.
*
After work she went home and fixed dinner, but still had no appetite. Looking down at the food, she picked it up; then dumped it in the garbage. Minutes later, she couldn’t even remember what she’d fixed. There was nothing on the television of interest. The casino called to her like a scorned lover. Damn, she really wanted to be there. It clawed at her gut. She became antsy again, like she always did if she didn’t go. Nervously, she paced her condo, trying to figure out what her answer to Joe would be tomorrow. Every time she made a decision, she threw up. Do the disgusting, sloppy, fat guy or burn a dead body? Trevor always on her mind became her reason to accept the offer. Money would gain her custody of him.
Trevor didn’t call after school. That was her mother’s way of getting back at her for hanging up on her. Boy, did it burn her ass. Kyra needed to talk to Trevor. The only good, pure person in her life—she couldn’t lose him. Dialing Tommy’s number, she got his voice mail. She left a message for Trevor to call her back.
What’s the crime if she burnt a dead body? Isn’t it what she did every day anyway? Imagine what she could do with one hundred thousand dollars and no debt. She’d take Trev far away. They’d start a new life together. Problem solved.
Kyra went to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Absolut, poured some into a glass to reinforce her decision—drank it straight down in one gulp, ignoring the burn in her stomach. And proceeded to drink until she passed out. The buzzer went off eight hours later. Stumbling out of bed she barely made it to the bathroom before she dropped to her knees. Hugging the toilet, she threw up. Ten minutes after nothing but the dry heaves, she stood with the help of the counter for support and reached for the mouthwash.
The woman looking back at her in the mirror frightened her. Not recognizing herself, she examined the dark circles under her eyes that had appeared there just this week—not a flattering addition. Her skin paler than usual, almost opaque, the haunted look in her eyes completed the transformation. Desperate and sick, she needed to pull it together to get through today. The pounding in her head didn’t help—it grew louder with each thought and every movement.
She couldn’t call in sick today either. The bi-monthly board meeting was scheduled for ten this morning. It was a requirement of her job to attend each one. Great—seven old men who ogled her and Dina’s breasts pretending to be great businessmen whose talents were needed well after their retirements. They were a bunch of condescending gossips in her opinion. No one was safe from their rhetoric. Oh, how she dreaded these meetings. The one good thing about them—they were held only bi-monthly, on the second and fourth Thursday of the month.
Looking at the clock on her bathroom wall, Kyra couldn’t believe the time. Not moving fast, she willed her limbs to move.
Kyra dialed the phone, listening to it ring. On the sixth ring, it went to voice mail. She left a short message for Dina. After turning the faucets to the hottest point she jumped into the shower and let out a long sighed.
“Ah, if only I could stay in here all day.”
It took her almost an hour to get dressed, to look presentable. She put on her red suit, showing a little cleavage—just the rounded top part of her breasts. She figured the boys wouldn’t look up through the whole meeting. With her Tums in hand she left her condo at nine-thirty.
*
The long drive to the casino gave her a chance to look back over her day. The meeting went as expected. They complained she spent too much, she stroked their egos. They ogled her breasts, all left happy. Clear for another two weeks unless one of their wives kicked them out of the house—then they’d show up here, nurse a cup of coffee for hours. Oh, how she hated those days. Her cell rang, interrupting her thoughts.
“What?” she barked, thinking it was Joe checking up on her.
“Is this a bad time, Kyra?” Jake…shit.
“Sorry, bad day.”
“You have a lot of them.”
“No, just your bad luck you happen to be there on the bad ones.” She didn’t elaborate.
“Do you want me to call back?”
“No, I’m driving, I need to pull over. Hold on.”
Maneuvering the car to the shoulder, she threw it into park. I should blow him off. Tell him dating can’t be on my horizon while the divorce is still up in the air.
“The car’s stopped. Wouldn’t want me to get a ticket talking to a cop, would you?” she joked.
“Good, I’d hate to be the cause of a ticket. I’m calling to see if we’re still on for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Yes. What did you have in mind?” So much for willpower and common sense.
“You like steak or fish?”
“I could go for a steak.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“I’ll be ready.”
“Kyra, is everything okay?” She heard concern in his voice.
“Yes, Jake, I have a headache, it’s nothing.”
“Big night?”
“Yeah, I had a pity party last night, got drunk by myself, and paid for it all day today,” she confessed. Shit, saying too much here.
“Been there, done that,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Kyra hung up, sat on the side of the side of road for a while, thinking. He seemed like a nice guy. Dinner with him sounded great, but she was on her way to agree to perform a deed for a group of unsavory people, knowing it could get her locked up for a long time.
“Is it really smart to start dating a cop now?”
Putting the car into drive, Kyra continued on her way. To the meeting which would end life as she knew it.
Chapter Six
Joe Dillon stood by the entrance, waiting for Kyra. Twenty minutes late—he wondered if she’d show. He took his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his brow. Nervous as a bride on her wedding night, Joe hoped Kyra made the right decision. They didn’t care about the Whale or his needs. They needed to dispose of Marino’s body. The bastard turned state’s evidence on his boss—not a smart thing to do. Now he’s frozen in someone’s garage while they figured out what to do with him. It also meant a huge bonus for Joe if he could pull this off.
Sitting at his boss’s house one day, he’d overheard Phil speaking with his lieutenant about the mess Marino caused. It was then Joe spoke up, putting Kyra in the mix. She’d never know it was him who threw her to the wolves. If she picked the fat slob, he’d lose all respect for her. Kyra had it right the other day when she questioned him about picking Garcia. Though he gave her a choice, she really didn’t have one. Kyra would select the option they needed. By giving her a choice, they wanted her to think she had some control over her decision. No matter what she picked, she’d be burning bodies for them.
Since the day he met and became her host he’d been intrigued by her job. Who actually accepted a position where they burned bodies? He’d never understood
undertakers either.
Joe had big plans for himself in the organization. This little deed would move him up faster without him dirtying his own hands. Yes indeed, Kyra was going to be an asset to his career. He looked at his watch, thirty-five minutes late. She’d better show up, or else. About to turn and head back into the casino, he saw the elevator doors open. Joe watched as she hurried off the elevator and rushed toward him.
“Sorry I’m late, Joe,” she said, breathlessly.
“I was ready to give up on you.”
“Heavy traffic slowed me down.”
“Not a problem, are you hungry?”
“I want to get this over with, Joe. We can eat later.”
“I’d rather eat first. Afterward, we’re going to meet my boss.”
“Oh…I didn’t know, you never said I had to meet him.” She bit her lip.
“What’s your decision?”
“I can’t…no, I won’t do your Whale, though you already know that, Joe.”
*
He felt his insides loosen and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. She looked nervous, but not out of control, which surprised him. In the last couple of days she’d aged. Her skin paler than normal, the dark circles under her eyes showed her stress. The decision couldn’t have been easy to come to. What was her decision? She walked with a slouch, something new, he observed. He’d always loved her posture, but tonight her frame looked like it carried the weight of the world. Joe thought of his six-year-old and his heart started to open to her, to her child. Joe slammed the door shut. He’d gone too far to go back now. Remember your rule, Joe, don’t get involved. She did it to herself.
“Kyra, it’s seven-thirty now. We’re not expected before nine, let’s head upstairs.” Grabbing her arm, he led her to the special elevator which took them to the thirty-sixth floor.
“I don’t know if I can eat. I’ve been sick all day.”
“What’s wrong?” He looked her over.
“I fortified my decision with vodka last night. I don’t feel so good today. Do I really have to meet him tonight?”
“I didn’t know you were a drinker too,” he said.
“I’m not,” she snipped.
“Even stupider. Food will make you feel better. A Bloody Mary might make your head better.” He hoped—he needed her presentable when he took her to Phil’s house.
“I don’t have a headache, my stomach’s upset.”
“What did you eat today?”
“I had toast, soda, and Tums.”
“You’ll definitely feel better after you eat.”
He ordered for both of them—watched her eat. Her color came back somewhere around dessert. It made him feel better. He didn’t want anything to ruin this night. Joe knew this brought him deeper into the organization. This would improve not only his standing with Phil but also his income. He hated his casino job, though he always thought of it as a stepping stone to his vision. Joe planned on retiring early—in ten years—and live on a tropical island with his family. After watching all these gamblers take and take; then demand more, it was his time to take now.
Kyra had been extremely quiet during dinner. He didn’t think the hangover was the cause of her demeanor. Joe didn’t want any surprises when they went to Phil’s. He’d told Phil he’d explain everything to her she needed to know. This way he’d be protected. Phil insisted on meeting her, thus sealing her fate. It was stupid of him to think this would be a ‘one time’ deal. He’d locked Kyra to Phil for the rest of her life. Once again, he pushed his conscience down, thought of his own future. He watched her push her plate away. Checking his watch, he signaled for the check.
“Are you done, Kyra?”
*
The snake smiled, she thought. Watching his face throughout dinner as a bevy of emotions played over it. Kyra would give anything to know what he thought. Not for the first time did it occur to her Joe had to be the one to supply her name to his boss.
What did she ever do to Joe for him to set her up this way? She’d always treated him with respect, never asked for anything unreasonable. She’d find out eventually and then, boy, he’d be sorry. Her mistake was she’d treated him like a friend. What an idiot she’d been. I told him all about my life and troubles.
“I’m done. We might as well get this over with,” she said.
“Okay, let’s go.”
*
They pulled up in front of a lavish mansion. Joe pushed a button on some sort of security system in order to announce their presence. A guard came out and completely checked out the car, including the trunk. The lawn—if something so big could be called a lawn, with its gentle hills already turning green—rolled and butted against the house. The house had to have ten thousand square feet of living space. A limo stood in front. A uniformed driver waited for instructions. The light from the afternoon sun glinted off the metal of his gun. She also saw many more guards spread out over the driveway as they drove up and assumed they too were armed. Lord, please tell me I’m getting out of this alive?
Joe stood beside her, waves of nerves rolling off him. Kyra had never seen him this way. For all his posturing, it seemed Joe was only a peon here. The guard nodded to the both of them as he opened the front door and invited them into the foyer. Stepping back, the guard let them in.
“Stay here, I’ll announce you,” he commanded.
“What have you gotten me into, Joe?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Kyra,” he whispered.
“Don’t bullshit me. I know it had to be you. You know what, Joe? I think I’ll do the Whale.” She smiled cruelly as her words and their implications landed.
“You can’t change your mind now. I already gave him your answer.” He spit the words at her.
“No you didn’t, Joe. So you’re just as afraid as I am, good,” she hissed. When the guard came back, she turned her back to him.
“Right this way.”
The guard led them down a long, tiled hallway covered in oriental rugs, artwork on the walls. He opened a set of pocket doors and ushered them into a beautifully appointed office. A large, masculine cherry-wood desk stood as the focal point of the room. A floor to ceiling window behind the desk looked out onto the lake. It showcased the owner perfectly. It said, ‘I’m powerful and dangerous, don’t waste my time.’ A marble statue stood in the corner—a toga-draped Roman woman pouring water from a pitcher. The couches and chairs were covered in soft, supple, beige leather. The walls were a dark tan and the rugs were red, pulling the whole room together. Why she took this all in she couldn’t say, but it was the man behind the desk who really held her attention. He had jet black hair, beady, black eyes, and a prominent hawk-like nose in a narrow face. The face wasn’t handsome so much, as interesting. He looked ferocious.
“Ah, Ms. Russell, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” As he stood to take her hand, she hoped she hid the surprise that he stood the same height as her—small for a man, at five feet four inches. Did he have the Napoleon complex to go along with his height—or lack thereof?
“Hi. I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.” Her eyes never left his face.
“I’m Phil.”
She tried to remove her hand from his, but he held on. Frightened, she tried a smile.
“What a surprise you are. Leave us, all of you,” he commanded.
“Mr.—” Joe tried to speak.
“I said leave, including you, Angelo. We’ll be fine here, won’t we, Ms. Russell?”
“I…guess,” Kyra stammered, as they scurried from the room. I’m the sacrificial virgin being offered up to the gods.
“You’ll be okay, Ms. Russell. May I call you Kyra?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, a surprise you are, Kyra, both in beauty and intelligence.”
They watched each other, assessing. “Why intelligence?”
Laughing, he answered. “Because you hold your tongue and observe. Not many women…no, that’s not true…not many people are smart
enough to keep quiet and listen. Do you know why you’re here, Kyra?” He stared into her eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered, and looked away from his piercing gaze.
He let go of her hand, offered her a seat. “Please sit. Would you like refreshments?”
“No, thank you.” She took the single chair by the couch. His laughter unnerved her. What the fuck was amusing him?
“I like polite. Are you afraid I’ll sit too close to you?”
Small talk and flirting were not what she’d expected. “No. I don’t know what to expect from you, Phil.”
“Honesty. I like that too.”
He sat in the chair opposite her, never taking his eyes off her. Kyra adjusted her position and sat perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes lowered, waiting…
The silence filled the room. She understood he’d talk when he was ready. A smart man. He waited also. Intimidation seemed to be his game and he played it well. Hell, it worked. Not going to lay his cards on the table until he made a decision about her. I don’t have all night. Hoping he got to it sooner, rather than later, Kyra reined in her temper. It took all her control to do it.
“Your color’s brightened. Are you hot?”
“No.”
“Are you annoyed?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?
“Yes.”
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
“No, Phil. I’m nervous. I know what you want from me. I don’t have a choice, so I’d like to know how and when,” Kyra answered impatiently.
*
“I can see you’re nervous, but you and I haven’t spoken about anything, so I’m not clear on how you know what I want. Are you a mind reader, Kyra?” He watched her stare at the floor.
“No.”
“Look at me, Kyra.” He waited until she raised her eyes to his. “Nobody, Kyra, knows what I think or what I need. It’s how I’ve succeeded in life. Do you understand?”
Burn in Hell: A Jake Carrington Mystery (Volume 2) (Jake Carrington Mysteries) Page 4