Ceasefire

by Black, Scarlett

  The spotless furniture. The thick, beautiful area rug, ruined. The rows and rows of books.

  So familiar. So foreign.

  Warm sunlight cast yellow swaths across the room. The river ran lazily along outside.

  The air smelled different. Metallic.

  Roman stood in a blood-smeared suit. Harris’s limp, lifeless body had been dragged off into a corner. I got lightheaded looking at it. I’d been to funerals before and had seen people—mostly grandparents—in their caskets, but nothing can compare to the sight of someone that’s just so…dead, in a place where they shouldn’t be that way.

  I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I averted my eyes, trying to pretend it wasn’t there, yet it was unavoidable.

  Michelle sat behind the desk with her hair in matted tangles, mascara streaking down her face, lipstick smeared off to one side. It was as if someone had taken a dirty rag to her normal, spotless excellence and swiped at it, haphazardly and without regard to what she might look like after. She’d been crying, but now, she sat with resigned tolerance. Lips pursed, nostrils flaring, staring into nothing. Not making eye contact, so frightened that she was in shock or had slipped into a catatonic state.

  Roman stood behind her. He held a knife against her throat, the tip of it digging into her vein. He glanced up at the clock. “Three, two, one. Thirty minutes, Kim. You almost cut it too close.” He chuckled. “Listen to me. Cut. Such an appropriate word,” he said, then lightly twisted the tip of the knife into Michelle’s skin.

  She winced. The small jolt of pain snapped her back to reality. She didn’t move her head, but instead, she managed to turn her pleading eyes up to me, silently mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

  “Let her go, Roman. This is between you and me. She didn’t do anything.”

  “Oh, is that so?” he said, shaking his head. “She didn’t help you cut my business in half?”

  “Let. Her. Go.” I inched toward the desk, fists clenched, then remembered the plan. Ever so slightly, I began moving to my left, toward the windows. I needed Roman to turn toward me. I needed his back facing the rear entrance.

  “Stop!” he barked. Roman poked the knife deeper. A trickle of blood seeped down Michelle’s neck. “That’s far enough.”

  Damn it, no, it isn’t, I thought. He’d be able to spot Finn from the corner of his eye. Just a little further. A couple more feet.

  Did I dare test him? Would he really kill Michelle if I continued trying to angle him around? I didn’t know. I couldn’t know.

  Think about it, Kim. Think.

  Roman was smart enough to realize that Harris the hitman was the type of person that wouldn’t easily be missed. Killing someone so underground and off the grid like that might take weeks before anyone would notice.

  Michelle, on the other hand, had plenty of friends and family in the area. She had a well-known, well-connected realtor husband that would be expecting her home. Even if Roman killed us both, the risk of being identified as the murderer was too great. He’d called. He’d given me thirty minutes. He wasn’t an irrational person. He had to understand that I could’ve talked to any number of people during that time.

  Okay, no, I thought. He’s posturing, trying to threaten us. He’s never made a move without weighing the risk against the reward. It’s all for show. Harris’s death was probably in self-defense and he’d never kill us, angry or not. Kill us and lose all this? No way. It’s a scare tactic, Kim. Keep moving. Turn his body.

  I held up my hands and said, “Roman, please, just put the knife down and we’ll talk, okay?”

  “Stop moving, Kim! One more inch and I shove it through her neck.”

  Michelle gasped.

  I froze. I waited until he glanced down at her and then quickly peeked over his shoulder. The angle was risky, but doable. Finn could do it if he timed it well enough.

  Roman almost caught me.

  I raised both hands up to the side of my head, palms outward. “Roman—Roman, I’m sorry. I’d say it was just business, but we both know that’s not the truth. I was hurt and angry.”

  “And you were stupid.”

  “Yeah, stupid. So stupid. Look, I promise you…let Michelle go, let me go, and we’ll shut ourselves down, okay? I’ll make sure that Lucy and all the rest of them come back to you and it’ll be like before. You’ll be the king of the mountain again and…and, we’re done. We walk away and things go back to the way they were. That’s what you want, right?”

  “It’s not that easy, Kim. Aren’t you forgetting something?” He tilted his head at Harris’s lifeless body. “You tried to have me killed.”

  The stillness hung over us, thick and cloying. It was true, and I had no excuse for it. While I fumbled for the right words in my mind—an apology wouldn’t be enough—I heard the soft click of the rear door from down the hallway. If I’d heard it, I was certain Roman had, too. I was right. He flicked his head around.

  To distract him, I shouted, “I was terrified, Roman.”

  He turned back to me.

  Good, good, keep looking this way, you bastard.

  “You had that guy almost kill Lucy. And Melissa. And Hillary. You put them in the hospital, Roman. If you would’ve seen them, if you would’ve seen how close to death they’d been, all those bruises and broken bones, then you’d know why I was so scared. I thought you’d come after me next, and I was trying to protect myself, and Michelle. And our business. So, yeah,” I continued, pointing at Harris’s body, “he was supposed to kill you. I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t make up for it, but whatever, I don’t have anything else to say about it, other than—other than, it was self defense. I thought you wanted to kill me. That’s it. End of story. Take it or leave it.”

  My words were risky, but I had to keep him distracted long enough for Finn to get down the hallway. It worked. From the corner of my eye, straining to keep my focus ahead and not give him away, I saw a hint of movement.

  The expression on Roman’s face was one of total confusion. A single arched eyebrow, mouth hanging open, upper lip partially curled. “What’re you talking about? They were in the hospital?” he asked.

  “Roman. Seriously. Playing dumb is beneath you.”

  “Are they okay? What guy, Kim?”

  I scoffed and shook my head. I lifted my top, showing him my bare stomach and chest. “Not wearing a wire. See?”

  “One last time—what guy? I didn’t hire anybody.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about. When did it happen?”

  “You didn’t hire somebody to hurt them for revenge?”

  “What? For God’s sake, no. You think I’d take that chance? What if it got traced back to me somehow? I’d lose everything. And, and, even if I had found out it was you who’d stolen my girls before today, why in the hell would I ruin my product if I wanted to get it back?”

  Either Roman should’ve earned an Academy Award for his performance, or he legitimately had no idea what I meant. He’d moved away from Michelle. She remained seated. Roman’s back was completely to the hallway where Finn waited.

  “Wait,” I said, slinking backward, closer to the window. “You didn’t find out until today?”

  Frustrated, he shook his head. “You covered your tracks well, and damn, whatever you were paying the traitors that left me to keep their mouths shut, it worked. I couldn’t get a peep out of them, and I definitely didn’t sign them up for a beat down.”

  “Then who did?”

  “Wasn’t me. The only thing I know is, that guy right there,” he said, pointing the knife at Harris, “he shows up here this afternoon asking questions, threatening me, pulls a gun, but he’s big and slow, so I get him right in the neck with the knife. Stupid me, I’m so freaked out that I killed somebody, I didn’t go up front and lock the door. The one day Alice is gone. Can you believe it? Ten minutes later, your girlfriend plows into my office like she owns the place while I’m sitting here trying to figure out whether o
r not to call the cops.

  “She’s so jazzed up, she doesn’t even see the body at first, so she’s standing there rattling off all this stuff about how things had gotten out of control and she just wants it to be over with. She wasn’t making any sense at all, so I asked her what she’s talking about and she says you guys stole my escorts for your business. Then, here’s the funny thing, she tells me she doesn’t want to see anybody else get hurt and she thinks that I might be in danger, that you might have one of Wickam’s people coming after me, and I’m like, ‘You mean that guy right there?’ She screams and faints on me, then I lost it and called you. Now, after all that, after all this shit, you tell me, Kim. Who did you piss off enough to hurt Lucy and the others? Because it wasn’t me. I love those women like they’re family. It wasn’t me.”

  I was glad that Finn hadn’t made a move yet. I needed to hear that, but that left me clueless as to who the culprit could be. Roman was right. Who did I piss off enough to put three women in the hospital?

  We stared at each other until Michelle’s voice broke the silence.

  Softly, barely above a whisper, she said, “He wasn’t supposed to hurt them so badly.”

  Roman and I turned to her, unsure of what we’d heard.

  Michelle stood up from the desk. The blood seeping down her neck from the knife’s pinprick had stained her white top. She looked drained. Pale. Exhausted.

  “What did you say?” I asked, moving toward her. “Roman, put that knife down. Roman—please.”

  He threw it to the floor, moved to the side, and sat down in a chair with a hand covering his mouth.

  I repeated, “What did you say?” Michelle reached out to hug me and I shoved her away. “Michelle? What did you do?”

  “Kim—I never meant—please—”

  I had to shove her again. “Get away from me. Did you do it? Did you hire somebody to hurt them?”

  Michelle nodded, tugged at her sleeves, face twisted in agony.

  “Why? How did you even know where to hire some—some thug?”

  “Through a client. He…he had connections.”

  I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger. Confusion. Disbelief. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because,” she whimpered, “because I wanted the old Kim back.”

  Veins bulging, muscles clenched, I roared, “You helped me start the business! Why? Tell me! It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Think about it, Kim, you were an escort. A call girl. A prostitute, whatever. You disappeared on me, my best friend. You were my sister. You were a hooker and you lied to me for months and I just wanted you out of that life, completely. But then that thing with him happened. You were so…so upset about him,” she said, acknowledging Roman, “and at first I thought, yeah, I’d help you get over him. I thought maybe the whole process of starting the business would get it off your mind and then you’d finally decide that shuffling escorts around wasn’t for you. But then you just kept going and going, so I spent more and more of your money hoping you’d get frustrated and call the whole thing off, but then that didn’t happen either.”

  I wanted to slap her. I didn’t. I screamed again instead. “Michelle! We sat right there in my office—that morning that I was having doubts—and you were the one that encouraged me to keep going. ‘For the cause,’ remember?”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “Then why did you say it? Why did you encourage me?”

  “I—I got caught up in the moment. The idea of so much money, and Aaron was already making plans about all these things he wanted to buy. I thought…I thought maybe it could work. But then, the further along we got, once we actually started dealing with clients—those people were pure scum, Kim, and I hated every second of it. Those rich bastards trying to put their hands all over me, asking me why I wasn’t on the menu.”

  “They did that to you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You’re not the only one that can keep secrets.”

  “You could’ve talked to me.”

  “I never had a chance. You were working so many hours and you hid in your office all the time. You were disappearing again. I just wanted you out. Out,” she said, stamping her foot, hands clenched at her sides, like a child. “Out, out, out!”

  “But you hired somebody to put three women in the hospital instead of making an effort? And that man over there in the corner is dead because you didn’t say something! Do you have any idea how insane that sounds, Michelle? I mean, Jesus, what were you thinking?”

  “You wouldn’t have listened. You never listen to me. Miss Stanford. Miss MBA. You always think you know what’s best, but who got pregnant by the first guy she met in a bar? Who got laid off and was living in a rat hole apartment and couldn’t afford decent food for her child? Who was a dirty, filthy prostitute? We’ve known each other our whole lives, Kim. Don’t you think I know what works with you? Drastic measures. I had to shock you back to reality.”

  I stood, immobile and completely shocked, like she’d wanted.

  Roman got up from the chair and cleared his throat.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “Can you two work this out elsewhere? I’ve got bigger problems to worry about, and in case you’ve forgotten, he’s over there getting stiff in the corner.”

  I mustered all the snark I could find. “Can’t you give us a minute?”

  Calm, cool, and collected, being the Roman I was used to, he said, “Look, I know this…this lovely feud going on is important to you two, but I couldn’t give a shit. It sounds like there are deeper issues here that don’t involve me, so I’ll make you a deal. The two of you leave. Walk out that door behind me and never come back. Shut down your business, send the girls back to me, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

  I was so totally and utterly exhausted that I didn’t have the need, desire, or want to negotiate. I nodded, motioned to Harris’s body and asked, “What about him?”

  With his hands in his pockets, Roman casually turned. “Oh, him? Disgruntled client. And it doesn’t hurt that I give the police chief a heavy discount.”

  “Right.” I should’ve known he’d have things covered.

  “Go,” Roman said, leaning toward the door. “Both of you. Work this out somewhere else. Walk out right now, no questions asked.”

  “Deal.” I looked past his shoulder as Michelle headed for the door. “Finn? Let’s go.”

  Finn emerged from the back hallway, looking sheepish. He pinched his lips together in an awkward grin and offered a don’t-mind-me wave to Roman as he shuffled across the office and slipped out.

  Surprised, Roman said, “Who the hell was that?”

  I offered a sarcastic smile and winked at him. “You said no questions. See you around, Roman.”

  He shook his head and looked away. “God help me, I hope not.”

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  Maui, Hawaii

  We woke up in paradise.

  Sunrise. Warm breeze. Tropical birds chirping outside the window. Fresh, succulent fruit waited for us in the resort’s clubhouse.

  We were so spent from the previous night’s lovemaking that we’d fallen asleep on top of the sheets. Nude, tanned skin in dark contrast against the pristine whiteness of the bedroom. It was our third trip that month.

  I watched the ceiling fan drift in lazy circles.

  Finn said, “Can you get any sexier?”

  “Hmm?” I murmured, not fully awake yet.

  “I’m serious, look at you. You’re so brown…I’m loving the whole no-tan line thing. Your hair’s lighter. Just…amazing.”

  I thanked him for the compliments and said, “You act like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

  “It’s different, I guess. We’ve been so busy—it’s almost as if I have time to actually look at you.”

  “And you like what you see?”

  “Does this answer your question?”

  Finn rolled over and put his mouth on my nipple,
licking slowly, sucking, nibbling, pulling it with his teeth. It stiffened with desire and I felt that familiar longing between my legs. I wrapped my arms around him, caressing the muscles in his back, tracing my fingers down those perfectly sculpted biceps and across his chest. Down, down, down to below his waist, wrapping both hands around the stiffness that waited for me. He moved up to kiss me and I buried my tongue in his mouth, stroking gently as he used a hand to part my thighs.

  “I love you,” he whispered into my ear.

  “I love you more,” I replied.

  “Impossible.”

  He entered me, lovingly, tenderly, working his hips with a gradual rhythm. Filling me deeply and fully. After six months together, we flowed with the grace of water.

  We stared into each other’s eyes. We blended into one.

  He rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top, holding onto my hips as I arched my back and thrust myself against him, whimpering, moaning while I struggled to fight the coming orgasm. I wanted it to wait, to last longer, to last as long as possible in that perfect little moment, but my body relented. “Oh my God, Finn, I’m coming, I’m coming.” The climax left me shaky and weak, satisfied.

  I lifted my hair and rocked my hips, giving Finn the sultry look that always sent him over the edge. He grabbed my hips tighter, burying his fingers into my skin, then released himself inside me.

  I collapsed on top of him, but kept myself positioned so that he could stay inside until it went soft. I loved that feeling, that bond, and then the slow release.

  “Wow,” he said, breathless, “we should have morning sex more often.”

  “Tell me about it.” I kissed his neck, then peeked at the bedside clock. “We have to be there by nine. Plenty of time for showers and breakfast.”

  “Pffft, plenty of time for round two. That went way too fast.”

  I giggled. “Stop. Let’s save it for after. We’ll need to celebrate.”

  “True. Fingers crossed, right?”