by Matt Rogers
Violetta looked back with a smirk. ‘I told you not to come along.’
‘I thought I could use a shakeout,’ Bill said, his steps ginger. ‘Jason told me to rest, though. Should’ve listened to him, and to you.’
Alice gently elbowed Violetta. ‘Notice I wasn’t mentioned.’
He said, ‘Oh, you told me to stay home, did you?’
‘No,’ Alice admitted. ‘You’re right. I said “come along.” But I knew you were hurting. I just wanted to see you suffer.’
‘Then your wish has been granted.’
He reached out and patted her lower back.
Alice smiled back at him, then addressed Violetta. ‘I’m only going to ask you this one more time.’
Violetta said, ‘Shoot,’ even though she knew what was coming.
‘You’re absolutely sure Jason never fought?’ Alice said. ‘You know, like, professionally. Or maybe he’s keeping some secret past life from you, y’know? It happens. Women find out their husbands used to be gangsters, or mafia men, or something.’ She threw her hands in the air like she didn’t even know what she was trying to say. ‘Hell, what if he used to be a contract killer? You never know.’
Violetta asked, ‘Where’s this coming from?’ even though she knew that, too.
Alice’s eyes were wide. ‘Have you seen him punch anything? I swear he’s teaching my husband how to kill someone.’
‘He is,’ Bill said, shadowboxing a three-punch combo through the air behind them. ‘See? I’ve got the touch of death already. Just waiting for another man to stare at you for too long.’
‘You’re kidding yourself,’ Alice said. ‘You’d love that. The ego boost it’d give you…’
Bill shrugged. ‘Probably true.’
Alice went quiet, trying to force an answer.
Violetta finally said, ‘There’s nothing about Jason that I don’t know.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Trust me, I’m sure.’
‘So he’s just trained his whole life?’
‘He’s a gifted athlete. I’m sure you’ve seen it.’
‘He should be in the UFC. Not sitting behind a desk running a tech company.’
‘You’re telling me,’ Violetta said, hoping she was coming off as convincing. ‘But I guess there’s stability in entrepreneurship. Pro athletes, no matter how good they are, are subject to the winds of fate. You take a wrong step in a fight, twist an ankle, it’s game over. You know what I mean? Hard to base your livelihood on something so uncertain. With business, there’s an element of certainty. Specific actions produce specific results if you know what you’re doing.’
It was clear Alice was taken aback. ‘Oh, shit. You’ve thought a lot about this.’
‘Of course. You’ve seen the way Jason hits the bag.’
Alice looked back at Bill. ‘You hear that? Not even Jason wants to do it professionally. So don’t get any ideas.’
Bill said, ‘You really think I look like a professional prizefighter?’
‘No,’ Alice said with a wink. ‘That’s my point.’
They turned into the park itself and followed the winding path. Junior cooed from the stroller. Violetta bent forward over the handle to check on him, and he stared up at her with a big smile.
She smiled back, transfixed by the way he was developing. He seized her whole attention, so she took her eyes off the path ahead. There’d been no one else in sight, but when she looked back up, she saw the stroller on a collision course with two men striding towards them. The sun was off to the side, so she had an unobstructed view of them, without any glare. They were decently-sized, each around six feet tall, and very similar in both stature and gait.
She veered the stroller to the left, over toward Alice, and politely smiled an apology for nearly running them both down.
They moved into her path again, in unison.
She stopped the stroller.
So did Alice.
Violetta got a better look at them.
They were brothers for sure, maybe even twins. Hard faces, sharp features, similar hairstyles and hairlines. One man had brown eyes, the other blue. The guy with blue eyes seemed slightly younger, his face a little less creased. They had to be late thirties, early forties, but kept youthful by consistent physical training. Violetta knew all about that. If King and Slater were to be studied in a lab, it might be shown that intense workouts were the fountain of youth.
She said, ‘Sorry,’ this time with curtness.
She went to circle around them, moving a little faster, a little more purposeful.
They both stepped in her way again.
Alice was frozen, intensely uncomfortable. Violetta didn’t dare look back and check on Bill, but based on the lack of noise she assumed he was motionless too.
The guy with brown eyes looked her in the eyes. ‘Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?’
Silence.
Noah mumbled something indiscernible, looking up at the strange men from the stroller seat.
Alice’s voice wavered as she said, ‘What’s going on?’
12
Violetta had never entered a fight-or-flight state around her son.
The adrenaline dumped itself in her system, gave her what felt like superhuman strength, but she kept it contained, bottled under the surface, to tap into when it was needed. A career in extreme high-stress situations had taught her to be able to do that. Most people let the fear control their actions, instead of the other way round. Mastering the kill-or-be-killed mindset was one of the biggest advantages in a combat situation.
She kept her voice calm as she said, ‘Would you please get out of the way?’
The brown-eyed man looked down at Junior, smiled, and said, ‘Cute kid.’ He lifted his gaze. ‘It’s Violetta, right?’
Alice was panicked now. ‘What’s happening?’
From somewhere behind, Bill said, ‘You know them?’
Violetta shook her head.
‘That’s no way to greet someone,’ the brown-eyed man said. He let the quiet reach its limits. ‘Listen. We need to have a little chat with you. Won’t take long. You could leave the kid with your friends here. We’ll go over there—’ he pointed vaguely toward some nearby trees ‘—and settle some matters. How’s that sound?’
Violetta said, ‘Fuck off.’
‘Believe me,’ the guy said, a little more unhinged, ‘you would prefer to come willingly.’
There was a sudden rush of movement and Violetta braced herself, ready to defend her child with her life. But it was Bill, sprinting around her, exploding forward so fast he almost slipped off his feet. He managed to keep his footing, maintaining his momentum, and he threw a wild haymaker of a right hook.
He put everything into it.
Experience-wise, he was still a novice, even as a boxer.
But King had taught him more than the correct way to throw a punch. He’d taught him tenacity, grit, and sheer fucking willpower.
So Bill threw every fibre of his being into the punch.
If he missed it’d be disastrous, but he didn’t.
He cracked the guy who’d been doing all the talking in the jaw and sent his head bouncing around on his neck like a pinball. A tooth flew out of the man’s mouth and blood sprayed as he fell backwards.
Bill fell over, too, the manic nature of the bullrush taking him clean off his feet.
Violetta didn’t see much of this. She’d already lunged around the stroller and wrapped her arms around the quieter, younger man — the one with piercing blue eyes. She had the element of surprise so she managed to lock her fingers together, seizing him in a bear hug, but she knew what was coming. There are simple laws of biology you can’t overcome. He was a heavier, stronger man. Sure, Violetta had embraced motherhood over the last few months, but she was still a fit, trained combatant, and she could overpower an out-of-shape, untrained man with pure technique. This guy, however, was solid as a rock, and clearly understood what he was doing.
So
she knew she could only hope to slow him down with the crushing hug.
Everything else would come down to speed and accuracy.
It was the only way she’d win.
He strained against her hold, letting out a grunt as his buddy collapsed on the pavement beside him. When he forced his arms out in either direction, he broke her grip with ease. Just too powerful, too angry. The force wrenched her fingers apart, giving him room to reach down for the concealed holster under his shirt, at his waistband.
Which was what she’d been banking on.
She was still in close, and when his arm slipped down to his waist she followed it with her hands. They were in perfect position, having been split apart by his bucking motion. When he got a hand under his shirt and around the holster of his piece and pulled it free, her fingers were there to snatch it. She knew she might break a couple of digits, given the speed with which they were both moving, but she figured that was a necessary risk.
She executed the move flawlessly.
Simply ripped the gun out of his hand and then darted away before he could take a wild swing at her unprotected face. She was three or four paces away in a flash. She couldn’t be sure who was in eyesight, so she kept the gun close to her chest, but she didn’t hide it away.
Junior was in the mix.
She’d use the weapon a dozen times over to keep him safe.
Bill was back on his feet, eyes wide and hair wild, panting for breath. The brown-eyed man was slowly getting up. His mouth hung open like a crooked drawer. Swelling materialised under the stubble, already ballooning. One look at him and Violetta knew he was seeing red.
She waved the gun, making its presence known.
Then she reached out and gripped the stroller with her other hand.
Making sure she knew exactly where her son was.
She addressed the brown-eyed man, because he probably still had a gun somewhere under his loose-fitting jacket. ‘I’m not gonna shoot anyone in a public park in front of my kid.’
A beat of quiet.
His hand floated in the direction of his belt.
She lowered the weapon — a sub-compact SIG Sauer P239 — under the raised handle of the stroller and aimed it through the gap, right between his eyes. Her aim was steady and unwavering, but she didn’t have to use that to prove who she was. If these men were after her, they knew exactly what she’d once been.
She said, ‘But I will if I have to.’
The rage in the brown eyes wasn’t present in the blue ones.
The younger man, who still hadn’t said a word, reached out and grabbed a handful of the shoulder material of his brother’s jacket and shoved him in the direction they’d first come from. Then hustled after him, walking fast.
The older brother looked back with venom in his gaze but the younger one shoved him again, refusing to let up.
He got the message.
They both stormed away.
They were out of sight in thirty seconds.
After a long pause, Alice took a horrified breath which rattled in her throat.
Shakily, she said, ‘What the fuck was that?’
13
Violetta’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts vying for attention.
She turned to Bill. ‘Do you know what to do?’
He nodded slowly.
Alice wheeled to him. ‘So you’re part of this too.’
The knuckles of his right fist bled, the skin torn off by the punch he’d thrown, and his eyes darted left and right and up and down in the same rush of adrenaline that Violetta was feeling. She, at least, had experience with the sensation.
His voice wobbled. ‘Part of what?’
Alice focused on Violetta. She was incensed, her voice loud. ‘You know those guys?’
‘No,’ Violetta said calmly. She looked all around. ‘We need to get out of here.’
Already Bill had snatched Noah’s stroller, turned it around, and was hustling it back the way they had come.
Alice reached out and grabbed it. ‘Bill, what the fuck?’
‘Not now.’
‘Are you in trouble? Business debts? Whatever it is, I need to know. You can’t keep me in the dark like this until something like that happens and—’
Violetta said, ‘They came for me. Not for Bill.’
Alice spun again. ‘And you are? Honestly, Violetta, who are you?’
Bill said, ‘Alice, not now.’
Another spin. ‘So you’re both just going to pretend that didn’t happen? That those two fucking guys didn’t just come up and you both turned into — what? — fucking superhumans? Bill’s never thrown a punch in anger in his life and you—’ she studied Violetta like a scientist with a lab rat ‘—you’ve now got a gun and you just took it off that guy and wrestled him like you’re some trained—’
‘Seriously,’ Bill snapped in a tone that Violetta imagined Alice had never heard before, ‘not now.’
Alice went quiet.
A quiet of understanding.
Nothing was as she thought it was, and all would be revealed to her in due course, but now, clearly, was not the time.
She looked her husband in the eyes, exhaled, and said, ‘Okay. Okay.’
They started for the car. Bill had driven them all in his Lexus four-wheel-drive. It was parked half a mile back, at the start of a loop that took them through Ingleside Park.
Too far for comfort.
Violetta broke into a jog. Junior’s stroller bumped and bounced in the small gaps between the concrete slabs. The path twisted back to Walden Street. What had once been a view to cherish now seemed like dangerously open ground.
If there were more…
She heard the grating of wheels on concrete behind her, and then Noah crying. She knew Bill and Alice had started to run, too.
Junior stayed silent despite the rattling of the stroller all around him. He gazed up at the sky, eyes half-closed.
Composed in chaos.
They reached the street and Violetta pushed the stroller to the left, beelining for the Lexus. It was a long stretch of open sidewalk to cover. It’d only take one other assailant with a long-range rifle to hold back when the brothers went in. If they really wanted to hurt Violetta, there was almost nothing she could do about it…
Tyres screeched on asphalt and a car skidded to a stop right beside her.
All she saw was a flurry of movement.
Junior let out a cry at the sound of the sharp noise.
She whipped round, brought the compact SIG out from under her jacket, aimed it at the driver’s window. She expected to go down in a chaotic shootout. At least her quick reaction speed had guaranteed mutually assured destruction.
She aimed right at King.
He stared out at her. ‘Get in.’
She nodded, tucked the gun away, unconsciously scanning for witnesses. If you so much as saw a gun in Winthrop you’d call the cops.
He said, ‘You hurt?’
She shook her head. Wheeled the stroller to the rear driver’s-side door and threw it open. She made sure to lift Junior gently into his baby seat. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him in her haste to protect him.
She secured Junior, closed the door, and paused by King’s window before she rounded the hood. ‘How’d you know?’
‘Someone tried to grab Tyrell.’
‘Oh, God.’
Bill and Alice finally made it to Walden Street, having fallen a few dozen paces behind. Violetta sometimes forgot the level of athleticism she could tap into when required. They slowed their speed as they pulled up beside Violetta.
King met Bill’s gaze and a stoic understanding passed between them.
Alice looked at King like she’d seen a ghost. ‘Jason? You knew that was going to happen…?’
King kept looking at Bill. He needed the man to understand.
Bill said, ‘Lay low for a while?’
King nodded.
‘What do I tell my employees? My clients? Noah’s daycare?’
‘I’ll sort this out as fast as I can. You two don’t deserve any of this. This is our mess. It’s unjustifiable that you’re involved. I’m sorry.’
Bill put an arm around Alice, pulled her close. She didn’t resist. Her outrage at being kept out of the loop was giving way to cold fear.
Bill said, ‘What do I tell her?’
King switched his gaze from Alice back to Bill. ‘The truth.’
‘You mean that?’
King said, ‘I do.’
Violetta had rounded the hood as they spoke, and now she dumped herself in the passenger seat.
Bill said, ‘She needs to know.’
King said, ‘I know.’
Violetta slammed her door closed.
He pulled away from the sidewalk and gunned it for home.
14
Code red.
Alexis should’ve known there was no respite from this life. Once you’re in, you’re all the way in, and you have no say in what comes next. You can’t make hundreds of enemies and expect to live the rest of your days on your own terms.
It’s simple mathematics.
But, no matter its inevitability, an invisible hand still gripped her chest as she threw clothes into a bag, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She could only manage shallow breaths, but she forced herself to control them all the same.
The media firestorm surrounding Heidi Waters and Vitality+ had only just begun to wind its way down.
And now this.
It had been two months since San Francisco. The bodies she, King, and Slater had left scattered across San Mateo, Hunters Point, the Palo Alto Hills, and the San Lorenzo Creek had been painted with the same broad brush in the media, serving as corroborating evidence to be swept into the explanation that Heidi Waters had been ordering murders. The revelations had made headlines, one day after the next.
First, that her company was a sham, its product functionally useless.
Then her body turned up in a flood control channel.
She was found dead alongside Frankie Booth, a career criminal known to Boston police before he’d snuck his way to California under a new alias. If the collapse of Vitality+’s integrity was the spark, Heidi’s death was the inferno. Employee confessions hit the news cycle, one after the other, at the same time as the bodies of dead gangsters started cropping up all over San Francisco. The spreading bubble of carnage was attributed to a shadowy gang war between Waters and Booth. One outlet painted a picture of her as a megalomaniac throwing her newly-acquired funds at the underworld in some twisted cosplay of Scarface. She’d wanted to be not just respected, but feared, and she’d spent egregious sums in an attempt to do so. That narrative came out later, when Vitality+ company accounts were connected with anonymous cryptocurrency payments to accounts belonging to Booth.