by W Winters
“Not at following… I like lists and control and knowing what to do. If you’re telling me that you don’t know, I’m telling you I might not follow.”
There’s always been direction. Always been a sense of right and wrong and a certain way to do things. Recently though, everything has been like walking through fog.
“Whatever you do,” I finally answer him, “don’t point your gun at me. Aim it at the prick who brought us here.”
With a huff of a laugh he tells me, “I’ll try to remember that.”
Pushing open the double doors, I feel every muscle in my body coil, ready to act. Bright light greets us instantly, blinding me momentarily. It only makes the adrenaline in my blood pump harder and faster.
“We’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Cody Walsh’s voice reverberates in the large empty space. Blood rushes in my ears as I take in the man who’s been like a dog with a bone ever since he arrived in town.
There’s no back room or secret entrances in the empty warehouse. The ceilings have to be twenty feet high and the room itself is vacant, all 1200 square feet of it. With the exception of a steel shelf on the back wall and several stacks of old metal chairs behind Officer Walsh and another man I’ve never seen before, there’s nothing here. Nowhere for anyone else to hide. That doesn’t mean there aren’t cameras.
“Good to see you again, Officer,” I speak and other than my voice, the only sounds are the large fans spinning above us as we walk to them, slowly closing the distance. Seth stays back slightly, letting me lead the way.
Officer Walsh is in jeans and a black leather jacket, nothing like his typical attire, save the expression on his face.
“Undercover tonight?” Seth mutters beneath his breath, although it’s a joke – there’s a serious hint of a smirk there - and I share a quick glance with him. All of the FBI cases we could find on Walsh are sealed, except for one case. The one that has information on Marcus as well. His files were squeaky clean, with numerous medals and honors, referrals. But not a damn thing about undercover work. Anyone could spot him as a cop. He’d die in a week out here if he pulled that shit.
Our boots smack off the cement floor as my eyes adjust to the fluorescent lighting and we get closer to the two of them.
The other man is younger. Maybe in his thirties, or late twenties. In dark gray sweats and a long-sleeve black Henley, he would come off as relaxed if he didn’t keep looking between Cody Walsh and the two of us.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I address the other man, and the moment he opens his mouth to greet me, Officer Walsh whips up his gun to the side of the man’s head and fires.
The racing of my heart isn’t quite as fast as I am to pull my gun from its holster. With both hands on the steel in my hands, I stare at Walsh pointing the barrel at the unsuspecting man beside him. If Walsh sees my gun and Seth’s aimed at him, he doesn’t react, he only watches the man to his left. The dead man falls to his knees, his eyes dead and vacant with a rough bullet hole leaking blood down his face. Walsh continues to focus on him until finally, the man falls face-first onto the floor with a dull thud.
“I was wondering when you were going to get here so I could kill him,” Walsh admits, his eyes watching the bright red blood pool around the nameless man’s face.
Our pistols are still on him and he only seems to notice now.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. If I don’t make it back to the office and pull the tapes out of the mail room, all the evidence will be dispersed.”
Seth’s gaze sears into me. I can hear the soles of his shoes scrape against the ground as he shuffles his feet although his gun is still up.
Keeping myself calm, I lower the gun and shrug as if I’m unaffected. “I didn’t take you for a man who liked the dramatic.”
Officer Walsh is a man who’s strictly by the book. That’s everything we found on him. Clean record and a man who believes in black and white with no grays in between. This… this is to throw us off. It can’t be his normal.
“I didn’t take you for a man who liked being late.”
“You killed him because we were late?” Seth questions. He lets a hint of humor ease into his tone, but his gun still sits at his side.
It’s only then that Officer Walsh takes his gaze from me and focuses on Seth.
“No. I shot him because I don’t need him and he knows too much.”
“Good to know that’s how you do business.” Seth’s criticism is rewarded with a tilt of Walsh’s head.
“What’s his name?” I question.
“It doesn’t matter.” Walsh looks between the two of us, making me second-guess his plan of action.
“It does to us,” Seth speaks for me, and I don’t mind in the least, since the same words were going to come out of my mouth. I want to know everything about the dead man lying on the floor. What he did, who he worked for, and most importantly: why he was standing beside Walsh in the first place?
“Joey Esposito.”
“Anything else we should know about him?” Seth asks and Walsh simply stares at him. I didn’t come here for a pissing contest.
“What do you want?” I speak loud and clearly, breaking up whatever’s starting between the two of them.
“To share two things with you. Both of them are pieces of information I think you’ll find valuable,” he says and then nudges the leg of the dead man on the floor. It’s a dull prod with no emotion behind it, just enough to be noticed. “He worked for Romano.”
Just hearing the name Romano raises the small hairs on the back of my neck. I feel my eyes narrow but other than that, I keep my composure. Seth does the same. Remaining still, unmoving. Unbothered.
That’s more like him.
“I’ll hand over the whereabouts of Romano freely. I’d prefer for you…” he pauses to glance at Seth before adding, “the two of you, to know that I’m willing to negotiate.”
“Handing something over for free isn’t a part of negotiations. Negotiations require something in return.” Seth corrects him and I have to fight the grin that plays at my lips.
The irritation in Walsh’s demeanor is something I didn’t know I’d enjoy so much. Maybe because it’s obvious he wanted the upper hand by killing this poor fuck the second we got here. Maybe it’s because Seth isn’t making it easy for Walsh. Either way, I make a mental note to tell him I like his style when he’s not following.
Before Walsh can respond, I comment, “How’d you get the information regarding Romano’s whereabouts? Esposito just gave it to you? Or did he think you had a deal?” I let the implication hang in the air, that his deals aren’t to be trusted as I take a step forward.
“He came to me, wanting something I couldn’t offer. He decided to rat, I decided to skip the judicial system and deliver his sentence to save some financial burdens. How’s that sound? Reasonable, Mr. Cross? Besides, I already knew where Romano was. That’s not the information Joey was giving me. Romano’s in protective custody.”
The way he says my name makes my skin crawl. He ignores the silent snarl and continues talking, grabbing the back of a simple metal chair, letting it drag across the floor with a shrill sound.
“What’s more important is that the indictment was dropped.” He leaves the chair in front of Seth, then grabs another. There’s a stack of them, and he delivers one to each of us before taking a seat himself.
Seth hesitates, so I sit down first. Both of us, across from Walsh. All of us holding our guns, but settled in our laps.
“Dropped?” I question, feeling my curiosity, my disbelief even, show on my face.
“It’s confidential.”
“So he gave something up?” Seth surmises and Walsh shrugs but wears a slight grin. “Fucking rat.”
“Jail or death. He didn’t have many options, did he?” Walsh comments.
“He made a mistake coming back,” Seth responds and then sits back in his seat when I give him a look.
“What’s the other thing?” I ask Walsh, squ
aring my shoulders and moving away from the subject of Romano. “You said you had two things to say. The first is that you have Romano’s whereabouts. What’s the second? I’m guessing it’s these recordings you say you have? Negotiation and blackmail in the same conversation?”
Walsh tosses a small notebook into my lap. It’s small and something easily tucked away, like something that would fit inside of a wallet. “The hotel Romano’s been placed in and his room number. He’s got three police offers posted next door. If they hear banging around and screaming, they’ve been told to let it happen.”
“And you’re fine with that?” I question, feeling my shoulders tighten. “It’s got ‘setup’ written all over it.”
“I’m not letting Romano walk away. He’s the reason Marcus came back here.” Walsh leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees so he’s closer to me as he tells us, “I want him dead but it can’t be on our hands. Too many people are involved. Take him. I’ve read the files on Aria Talvery. I saw what happened with your brother.”
“You saw what happened to Tyler?” I question him, not understanding how he knew.
“Tyler?” he responds with a shake of his head. “Carter. Carter is with Aria, unless I’m mistaken.” It’s silent for a long moment.
“What happened with Tyler?” he asks when the quiet air lingers for too long.
“Nothing of your concern.” I shift my weight in my chair as Walsh leans back further. “I want Romano for an entirely different reason.”
“Then take him. I’m giving him to you, both to start off with a good rapport.”
“Seconds before blackmailing us?” Seth interrupts him and Officer Walsh shrugs. “Both to have a good rapport. And to show Marcus I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Marcus came back… here? For Romano?” I question, thinking back nearly a decade ago when I first learned about the bogeyman that is Marcus. “How long have you been after him?”
“Six years now,” Officer Walsh tells me and it doesn’t add up. Marcus never left. Marcus couldn’t have been in New York fucking with Walsh while keeping up his reputation down here and pulling strings. The cogs turn slowly as I assess Walsh, wondering where it went wrong, needing to know what piece is missing.
The reality of what Walsh is willing to do in order to get to Marcus coming into focus.
Seth readjusts in the seat, shifting his gun from hand to hand and then he stands, pushing the metal chair back as he does and stating, “I’d rather stand if you two don’t mind.”
I don’t move my gaze from Walsh, who merely watches.
His pale blue eyes raise to mine and then to Seth’s as he says, “My only request is that you don’t kill him at the hotel. Make it look like he took off and skipped town. Do that and he’s yours.”
“In exchange for?” I wait for the other shoe to drop. Seth stands still to my left. His wrists are crossed in front of him and one hand still holds the gun.
“What do you think I want?” he asks lowly.
He’s slow to pull a recorder out of his pocket, and with the click of a button, Seth’s voice is heard and then the sound of something creaking. I recognize it immediately.
“Who’s this fuck?” he asks and I answer, “Hal. The second he wakes up, bring him to the cellar.”
“You have questions for him?” Seth asks.
“No. No questions.”
Officer Walsh stops the recording, although the visual memory of opening the trunk and showing Seth in the parking lot behind The Red Room continues playing out in my mind.
“What was bugged?” I ask Walsh, running my thumb along the rim of the barrel. Motherfucker. Anger courses through me uncontained inside, although I don’t let it show.
“I’m guessing a gift from Marcus?” Walsh speculates with a glimmer in his eye. “The recording has enough evidence for me to piece together how you got hold of Mr. Hal Brooks, that he was alive when you took him… and what you did to him after.”
“What exactly are you implying?” A trace of anger can be heard in the hiss of my question.
“That you’re fucked… unless you’ve got information for me. It was in his clothes and found on Mr. Brooks body.”
It sinks in slowly. Marcus bugged Hal. He set me up. Between Marcus, Walsh and Romano, the list of men to kill keeps getting longer.
“What information are you looking for?” I ask, looking him dead in the eyes.
Walsh merely stands, glancing at the dead man on the floor and the dark pool of red that’s staining his face as he looks off to the front double doors in the distance.
“I’ll contact you when I have specifics.” With that he stands, leaving me to calculate every possible way we can kill him. He’s a man hell-bent on vengeance and willing to burn everything that lies between him and it.
As the two of us stand up slowly, watching his hands and how he places the gun back in his holster, Walsh adds, “Go tonight for Romano. Tomorrow the teams change. I mean it when I say I intend to have a good rapport with you two.”
Turning his back to us, he places the chair he’d taken on top of the stack. “Unless you want to help me clean up, I think you’d better getting going.”
The metal of the gun is warm when I slip it behind my back in the holster, taking in everything I can about Officer Cody Walsh. It’s silent, save for the, “Until next time,” Walsh gives us on our way out.
Neither of us speaks until we’re far enough out in the distance.
Still seething, we both climb into the car and listen to the thunk of the doors closing as the sound of crickets off in the distance fades to silence.
“We’re screwed if he mails the recordings or hands them out to the fucking FBI.” Seth says the fucking obvious, tapping his foot in the car.
We should have incinerated him. That dead fuck and all the evidence along with it. Instead, I had to freak the fuck out over shit that happened years ago.
Seth keeps up with the tapping. Tap, tap, tapping as my frustration grows.
“Knock it the fuck off.”
“I’m thinking,” he retorts and then lets out a “fuck” and punches the side of the door.
“Feel better?” I ask him when he lifts his fist to examine his hand.
“Much,” he answers dryly.
The keys jingle in the ignition as the engine turns over, humming to life. Seth rolls his window down, breathing in the cold air until he comes up with a solution
“I’ll find out where the info is and get rid of it then get rid of him,” he speaks.
“That easy?”
“If we put him in the cellar, yeah. That easy.”
“You think he’ll tell us where it is?” I glance at him and let out an uneasy exhale, shaking my head as the wind blows by. “I don’t think he will. I think he’d die before quitting.”
“Then how?”
“Declan has to find something.”
“Declan’s looking into something?”
“I asked him to look into something before I know whether or not it’s a dead end. I don’t know yet; it may be useless.”
He’s reluctant to nod, but he does. “And what about Romano?”
“Go tonight and take three men with you. Two for lookouts.” The order comes out as easy as the plan should be. “If he’s in their custody, he’s unarmed and it should be in and out.”
“We’ll hit him with chloroform. Keep it quiet.”
“Just make sure you take out any cameras first. And stay silent, wear masks. Don’t trust it not to be recorded.”
“Got it. Want me to send a report to Carter first?” he asks and I stare off to the right side as the car comes to a stop. Just happens to be the graveyard. “No, I can do it. I’ll tell him.”
I’ll tell my brother just how badly I’ve fucked up. With all of this.
Then I’ll deal with Bethany.
And then Romano.
Bethany
My eyes feel so dry but I can’t keep them closed. Every time they shu
t, I see Jenny, in the hands of a villain. She’s out there and I’m lying in a comfortable bed, protected and doing nothing.
The thin slit of light from the hallway that lays across the bedroom floor and hits the dresser widens as a soft creak fills the quiet room. Jase’s footsteps are cautious and muted.
“You don’t have to be quiet,” I let him know although I have to clear my throat after. It’s raw and in need of a hot cup of tea. A luxury I can afford, as I’m not missing and presumed dead.
“You’re not sleeping?”
“How could I?” I answer Jase with the question as he walks to the bed and lowers himself to sit by my side, making the mattress dip where my legs lay.
He tells me, “I didn’t expect you in here.”
For a moment, I reconsider every thought that brought me back to his bedroom and ask, “Do you want me to leave?” If he does, I will. If he doesn’t, I’ll stay. Simply because I want to be here. I still want to be next to him when I do fall asleep. I want him to hold me, but I’m too prideful to ask. More than that, I’m ashamed that after all the lies, I still feel like I need him.
His answer is quick. “Never.”
“I don’t want to give you an ultimatum.” I spit out the words that I’ve been saying over and over in my head the last hour or so. “I hate them and I think they’re awful.”
Jase is deadly silent, listening to what I have to say. I can feel his eyes on me although I don’t look up at him. Resting his head on my thigh that’s covered by the blanket, he waits for me to continue.
“It hurts to even say it. I can’t deal with lies. I don’t want to be a woman who lets a man lie to her.”
“I won’t.”
“I don’t know that I believe you.” Finally looking into his eyes, I suck in a deep inhale to calm my words. “I can’t stay if I find out you’ve lied to me about something. I can’t be with you if that’s all there is between us.”
“There’s nothing else and there will never be anything else.”
My mother used to warn us about ‘always’ and ‘nevers.’ Especially about the people who speak them with certainty.
With the window cracked, a gust of cool air blows in trailing along my skin and with it, the ends of my hair tickle down my bare arm as I prop myself up. “You sound so sure.”