by CW Browning
“It’s about time you showed up,” said Blake in a low voice behind him. “I’ve been wandering around, trying to avoid getting into ‘how do you know the deceased’ conversations with people I don’t know.”
Michael turned to look at his friend, a grin crossing his lips.
“How’s that working?”
“It’s not. I’ve met just about everyone here,” Blake said glumly, moving into the receiving line with Michael and Angela. “I hate these things.”
“We all do,” Michael replied, watching as Stephanie departed to rejoin Joanne and her husband near the coffin. “It reminds us we’re mortal.”
“I’m hoping things get more interesting as the night goes on,” Blake said. “I’ve been here since six-thirty. Stephanie promised beer and wings afterwards and I’m holding her to it.”
“Beer and wings?” Angela turned around, perking up considerably. “Where?”
Blake shrugged.
“Some place called...Pete’s? Chicken? Chicken Pete?” he said, his brows creasing in thought. “Does that sound right?”
“Chickie and Pete’s?! Oh, we’re so in!”
“We are?” Michael asked, startled.
“Yes, we are. Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”
Michael glanced at Blake in time to see his friend grin.
“Looks like you’re just along for the ride too,” he said. He looked around, then nudged Michael to get his attention. “Is your girlfriend coming?”
“I have no idea, and she’s not my girlfriend,” Michael muttered. “No one’s heard from her since this morning.”
Blake raised an eyebrow and glanced at Stephanie across the room.
“That’s not going to go over well with Stephanie,” he said decidedly. “Where the hell is she?”
“No clue, but Angela says she’ll show. She bought an outfit especially.”
“An outfit?” Blake stared at him for a beat. “You’re kidding.”
Michael couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across his face.
“Nope.”
Blake glanced at the back of Angela’s head and nodded to her.
“Her idea?”
“Yep.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about this,” Blake said, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “See? This ordeal is getting more interesting already.”
Alina glanced at her watch and strode through the shadows, almost invisible in the darkness. She was late. Stephanie was probably threatening never to speak to her again, and Angela was probably assuring her she wouldn’t miss it. She had, after all, bought an outfit just for this.
She glanced down at the black pants and deep purple silk blouse. Angela had tried to get her into a pencil skirt, but Alina managed to get away with the pants instead. Not only was there no way she was wearing a skirt two days in a row, but you couldn’t move in a pencil skirt. At least, she couldn’t, and Viper wasn’t about to risk her mobility for the sake of appearances.
Rounding the corner of the large funeral home, Alina moved along the brick walkway crossing in front of the house. She cast a sharp glance around the yard, noting the various people coming and going. The street in front of the home was quiet and well-lit, affording good visibility, and Viper looked at the few cars lucky enough to get spots directly in front of the funeral home. They were all empty.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly as her heels clicked along the bricks. She hated being out and exposed like this, but there was no other choice. Her .45 pressed comfortably against the small of her back and an ankle holster held a military combat knife against the leg under her pants. She had worked with less, in much more hostile territory. John’s viewing should be a walk in the park.
Light poured from the front porch, welcoming mourners with a comforting glow at odds with the nature of the event. As she moved up the steps to the front door, Alina glanced at the few mourners smoking on the wrap-around porch. Her brain registered the fact that all but two of them were Federal agents as she stepped onto the porch and walked toward the door. The two that weren’t she put down as spouses.
She noted all of this in a glance and reached for the door. Taking a deep breath, she paused for the briefest of seconds, her hand on the handle. Then, her lips tightening in resolve, she pulled it open and stepped inside.
The crowd in the hallway was immense and, as the door opened, all those near to it turned to look at the newcomer. Alina suddenly relaxed. Crowds comforted her. They were large and impersonal, and Viper knew how to navigate them with ease. Those near her turned back to their conversations as they realized they didn’t know her and Alina moved through the crush easily, heading toward the large double-doors on the right.
“There you are!”
Angela’s voice cut through the medley of conversations and Alina turned her head to see the brunette moving through the throng towards her.
“Stephanie’s ready to have your head!” she exclaimed, taking her arm and moving through the double doors with her. “Where have you been?”
“I had some things I had to take care of.”
This room was even more packed than the hall. Alina estimated close to a hundred people were crammed inside, shoulder to shoulder. Angela guided her through to the far side where the receiving line was dwindling down.
“Well at least you came at a good time. This is the shortest I’ve seen the line so far!” said Angela. “I think our entire graduating class showed up, not to mention so many FBI types I’ve lost count. Joanne’s been asking for you. She and Bill will be glad to see you’ve arrived.”
Angela deposited her at the back of the relatively short line and looked at her assessingly.
“You look fantastic,” she said approvingly. “I knew purple would look good on you.”
“Is that Mr. Gregson?” Alina demanded, staring at an older man on the other side of the room. “The gym teacher?!”
Angela glanced over her shoulder and nodded, turning back with a grin.
“I’m telling you, Lina, there are people here I haven’t seen since graduation,” she said. “Who knew John was so popular?”
Alina stifled a groan and finished scanning the crowds. She recognized more faces than she cared to remember and her heart sank. So much for sneaking in and out unnoticed.
“He always was,” she murmured.
“At least they’re not all women,” said Angela cheerfully. “A lot, but not all. Oh!” she lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Nipples is here. I thought Joanne was going to have a heart attack when she met her.”
John’s on-again off-again girlfriend had gained the dubious nickname of Nipples from Stephanie and Angela. Alina raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of her.
“She? I thought that was a generic, collective term for all his girlfriends.”
“It kind of was. We couldn’t keep up with their names and they all fit the same profile, so it was just easier that way. This was the latest one,” Angela explained quietly. “I think her name is Cami, or something like that. When she met Joanne she started crying and told her she’d heard so much about her from John. I thought Stephanie's eyes were going to roll out of her head.”
“Where is she?”
Angela glanced around, then nodded toward the front of the room, near the casket.
“Over there, to the left, a little bit in front of the casket. She’s the one wearing the leopard print,” she whispered. “I mean, seriously. Who wears leopard print to a viewing?”
Alina followed Angela’s directions and her eyebrows soared into her forehead. Nipples definitely lived up to the hype. The buxom blonde was dressed in a skin-tight, leopard print pantsuit so low-cut that the girls would pop right out if she bent over. As it was, mounds of smooth flesh bulged up against the tenuous control of the thin fabric.
“Good God,” Alina muttered. “John liked that?!”
“Oh, they all looked like that,” Angela said cheerfully. “I want to know what the hell she’s wearing to push her
boobs up like that. It’s gotta be a corset. I don’t care how much silicone is in those puppies, it’s not natural how high they sit.”
Alina felt a laugh bubbling up inside her and she tamped it down, pressing her lips together firmly. She watched as Nipples spoke animatedly to two men, long red finger nails flashing as she gestured with her hands to make her point.
“I can’t look away,” she murmured, transfixed. “It’s like watching a train wreck.”
“I know! Isn’t it the worst? Aren’t you glad I talked you into the new outfits? There’s no comparison between the two of you.”
Alina tore her gaze away from the blonde and looked at Angela.
“There’s no reason for a comparison,” she said. “What are you talking about?”
“Lina, you might think there’s no reason, but I assure you, everyone here is looking at you and saying he was better off with you than someone like her,” Angela replied calmly. “Oh look, you’re almost there.”
Alina looked forward to find herself three people back from John’s parents. Stephanie stood next to Joanne and, as Alina glanced up, she caught her eye. She smiled faintly and Alina sighed, nodding back.
“How long has Stephanie been standing there?” she asked Angela.
“At least two hours now,” she answered. “People just keep coming. I think it’s starting to wind down now, thank God.”
Alina moved forward, the next to go, and got her first good look at John’s parents. She hadn’t seen or spoken to them since she threw a cast iron teapot at their son’s head twelve years ago, effectively ending their engagement. She had departed for the Navy a few weeks later, never looking back. Now here she was, next in line to offer them her condolences with John lying a few feet away in an open coffin.
Joanne looked the same, but older. Her hair was impeccably styled, her makeup perfect, and she was dressed in a black suit with a light gray shirt under the jacket. John’s father, Bill, was just as tall as Alina remembered but his hair was completely white now, a stark contrast to skin deeply tanned from years spent in the sun.
Emotion welled up inside Alina suddenly like a geyser, choking her, and she pressed her lips together firmly to stop them from trembling. Memories flooded into her mind at the sight of the couple who would have been her in-laws if things had gone differently all those years ago. Suddenly Alina was remembering Joanne and her own mother, taking her to lunch after a long morning of fruitless dress shopping. Joanne was very close with her mother. After the engagement ended, Alina knew the friendship had continued. Something tightened inside her and Viper took a deep breath.
Those were memories better left behind. They had no place in the present.
“It’s about time you got here,” Stephanie told her as Alina stepped forward. “I’ve been dodging questions all night.”
“From who?” Alina asked, startled.
Stephanie rolled her eyes.
“Everyone!” she hissed. “Look around. It’s like a class reunion!”
Alina shook her head.
“I don’t know why they even remember me,” she muttered. “I was gone long enough. Don’t they have anything better to worry about?”
“Alina! My dear!” Joanne cried, turning to her as the man in front of Alina moved on to Bill. “Oh, it’s been so long!”
Alina found herself engulfed in a tight hug and a strangely familiar smell of flowers enveloped her. Good God, the woman still wore the same perfume!
“Joanne,” she murmured, lifting her arms to briefly touch Joanne’s shoulders before pulling back. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you,” Joanne smiled at her, her eyes watery. “It’s just such a shock! And it was for you too. I wanted to reach out to you as soon as we landed, but I didn’t know how to reach you. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Alina told her, smiling faintly. “It was a shock, but I’ve had time to adjust.”
“You look wonderful,” Joanne told her. “I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to over the years. We’ll have a nice sit-down tomorrow at the luncheon.”
Alina nodded and smiled and moved on to John’s father.
“Lina!” he boomed, a wide smile creasing his face. “Thank you for coming.”
“Bill, I’m so sorry,” she said, taking his outstretched hands. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
“Can’t you?” he asked gently, his blue eyes that were so much like John’s meeting hers. “I’m sure it’s very similar to what you’re undoubtedly feeling right now. Shock. Grief. And bloody discomfort at all these strangers milling around.”
Alina was surprised into a short laugh and Bill’s hands tightened briefly on hers.
“Something like that,” she agreed, pulling her hands away. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Bill tilted his head to the side and studied her for a second.
“You have,” he said unexpectedly. “You look different. More...I don’t know. Intimidating.”
“Bill!” Joanne exclaimed, overhearing. “Stop it! You’ll embarrass her!”
Bill raised an eyebrow and looked at Alina.
“Am I embarrassing you?” he asked. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” she assured him. “It’s fine.”
“See? She says it’s fine,” Bill told his wife as Alina turned away.
Her eyes fell on the gleaming black casket a few steps away and Alina felt her heart thump in her chest. The low drone of conversations faded into the background, and she sucked in a deep breath as her gut clenched. Suddenly her hands were trembling and she was having a hard time catching her breath. Memories chased themselves across her mind; hazy memories of a younger, happier John and a life so far removed Alina felt as if they were someone else’s memories. Yet, they were hers. It was as if seeing Joanne and Bill had opened a floodgate, unleashing emotions carefully buried for years.
She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes watching her, waiting for her to walk up to the casket and say her final farewell. A hot wave rolled over her and the trembling spread from her hands to rest of her as she took a step toward the coffin.
Alina couldn’t remember ever feeling so alone.
Then, suddenly, she wasn’t.
A strong hand took one of hers and Alina glanced up into a pair of green eyes, filled with understanding. She swallowed and closed her fingers around Michael’s. His warm clasp seemed to absorb the trembling from her hand and she took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t say a word, but held her hand and stepped up to the casket with her, shielding her from the curious scrutiny with his broad shoulders.
Alina stared down at John’s impossibly still face, frozen in death. He looked at peace. Gone were the bruises and cuts that had marred his face and neck in the hospital. Gone were the habitually grim lines around his mouth, weary evidence of a career in federal law enforcement. Instead, he appeared to be finally at rest.
The trembling stopped and Viper felt herself grow calm once again. The grief that had threatened just seconds before receded, leaving her numb. John wasn’t there. The shell left behind was simply that: a shell. The John she knew, and had loved, was gone. There was nothing more for her to do here.
Alina turned away from the casket, gently pulling her hand away from Michael’s. She took one last deep breath and felt the haze clear from her mind, becoming aware of the low drone of conversation around her once again.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, glancing up at Michael.
His eyes met hers and he nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
Alina moved into the crowds, her shoulders squared and her back straight. One by one, old familiar faces from days long past stopped her, asking how she was and what she’d been doing all these years. As she moved further away from the gleaming casket, Viper never once looked back.
John was now where he always belonged: in her past.
Chapter Twenty
Alina watched from the shado
ws on the far end of the porch as Michael stepped out and looked around. He spotted her and moved along the wooden planks until he reached her.
“Had enough?” he asked.
“I had to get out of there before I did something I’d regret,” she admitted ruefully. “I don’t even remember half those people.”
He chuckled and leaned against the railing next to her.
“You hid it well. I’m surprised you stayed as long as you did. Stephanie’s looking for you. She wants to introduce you to Blake.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I don’t think she agrees,” he said. “You might as well resign yourself. She’s determined. Besides, I don’t see that it can possibly make much difference at this point. He already knows who you really are and I can vouch for him. He hasn’t told a soul. I don’t see him starting now.”
“That’s not my primary concern,” Alina said. “I’ve told you before. I’m dangerous company these days. The less he’s involved, the better for him.”
“He’s a big boy. He knows the risks. He’ll take care of himself.”
“Where’s Angela?” she asked, changing the subject after a moment of silence.
“I left her inside talking to someone she knows. Relax. Nothing can possibly happen in the middle of that crowd.” Michael glanced down at her and Alina could feel him studying her in the darkness. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” he said bluntly. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I felt you shaking in there.”
Alina was silent for a moment, watching as a couple came out onto the porch and went toward the other end, pulling out packs of cigarettes.
“I’m dealing with it in my own way,” she said finally. “I’m used to death. It’s part of my daily life. It’s not his death that’s the problem, it’s the memories.”