Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  "What..." He starts, but I just drag him, quickly picking up the car keys from the vanity.

  "Now!"

  Theo frowns but doesn't argue. He pulls a pair of sweats on, and we immediately leave the room, making our way downstairs and towards the car.

  While we go down the stairs and over the other two cartel men's dead bodies, Theo surprises me by picking up their weapons and taking them with him.

  'Wait here." He says, and I'm almost tempted to tell him off, but seeing Theo take charge in this situation is practically unreal. His stance changes almost immediately, checking the premises for any other intruders. When he's satisfied there’s no one else, he waves me over, taking my hand.

  We quickly dash towards the car, him in the driver's seat and me in the passenger one. He doesn't waste any time putting it into gear and driving us off.

  There is one second where I realize just what happened and the fact that I slipped from character. I immediately try to rectify it by making my body shake and willing myself to cry.

  "I killed them..." I say in what I hope is a shocked voice. "What happened, Theo? Who were those men? I..." I let my tears flow freely.

  Theo is intent on the road ahead, but he pauses just enough to give a command.

  "There's a phone in that compartment. Take it out and dial Marcel."

  Internally I'm frowning at his request (not really a request though), but with shaky fingers, I do as Theo says.

  "Put it on speaker." I do.

  "Do you know what time it is, Theo?" Marcel's voice comes through.

  "We have a problem." Theo's voice is so severe but composed. I don't think I've ever seen him like this.

  "I guessed," Marcel replies dryly.

  "You were right. We were attacked." There was a pause.

  "Are you alright?"

  "Yes. Three men. Latino." Theo says, and I add in my best attempt at seeming scared, "They... were...speaking...Spanish."

  "Fuck. I didn't think they'd retaliate that quickly."

  "Me neither."

  "Are they dead?"

  Theo gives me an odd look before answering in the affirmative.

  "I'll take care of it." I quickly give Marcel the address of the lake house, and we hang up.

  Theo doesn't talk to me for what seems like an eternity, driving into the night, until he suddenly pulls over on an abandoned road.

  I will my tears to continue to spill, to continue to keep up my pretense.

  Theo bangs his head on the steering wheel.

  "Theo...?" I ask tentatively, but his voice when he replies scares me.

  "Stop!"

  We spend a few more minutes in silence. The only noises in the car are my sobs and Theo's harsh breathing.

  "How?" He finally asks, lifting his head to look at me as if he's never seen me before. His eyes are steely and unyielding. It's a side of Theo I've never seen, and suddenly I don't know what to do.

  "You killed them." He states.

  "They were going to kill you!" I yell at him, thinking that an emotional response is the expected one in this scenario. I've seen movies. I've seen how people react after such frights, and I hope that my impression convinces him.

  "I heard them." I continue, my voice taking on a bleak note. "They were there to kill you." I grab his arm. "Oh, what have you done, Theo?" He's still, looking at me as if weighing my words.

  "How did you kill them?"

  "My...pistol... you know the one Drew gave me."

  "Tell me from the beginning." He demands, and I realize this is my chance to make him believe me.

  "I got out of bed..." I start between silent sobs. "I thought I heard steps downstairs. But it couldn't be, right? Who could have been there? I suddenly got super afraid it was a thief or something. I didn't even think; I just went for the pocket pistol I always carry in my purse. You know the one... There were three of them. Oh Theo, when I heard what they were saying, how they were going to kill you… I just reacted. I aimed and prayed to God; I got them. But then one got away and... Oh, Theo, he almost shot you! I don't... I can't..." I start crying in earnest, and Theo takes me in his arms.

  "Shush. It's OK. We are both OK and alive."

  "Who were they, Theo? Who wants to kill you?"

  "Just some bad people who don't approve of my policies." He says as if it's the most normal thing to just kill someone for disparate opinions. It’s at that moment that I realized I don't really know Theo at all.

  "We're going to a hotel." He says, and I just nod.

  A while later, still on the road, he adds.

  "Don't ever do that again. Don't you dare try to put yourself in front of a bullet for me? Am I clear?"

  "Theo..."

  "Am I clear?"

  "Yes."

  CHAPTER X

  Waiting for Marcel's phone call, I sneak a glance at Bianca, where she is lying on the hotel bed, still shaken from what happened. Her entire body is stiff, and her eyes seem to dart around, almost expecting another attack.

  After taking care of her small wound, I'd tried my best to soothe her, but the shock did not seem to have worn off. Or so she says. So many things went wrong tonight. So many things happened that I simply can't wrap my head around.

  She killed three men.

  I didn't have a chance to analyze the cartel men's bodies, but for a simple civilian to put down three criminals is just beyond me. I've seen trained professionals in my day struggle with hitting targets in that amount of time.

  No matter her explanations, something doesn’t add up.

  "Are you ok?" I ask as I sit down next to her and hand her a glass of water.

  "Yes... just in shock, I guess." I put my hand over hers to comfort her.

  "You just went through massive trauma. It's understandable. You should sleep."

  "I can't..." She whispers.

  "Wait here," I say and quickly go to my car. I remember Marcel leaving some sleeping pills there. They should help her rest.

  Returning to the room, I hand her the pills. "Take these, they'll help you rest."

  She eyes the pills and almost reluctantly takes them.

  "Thank you." She murmurs.

  We lay on the bed, and I spoon her from behind, waiting for the pills to kick in. It doesn't take long for her breathing to regulate. I slowly get out of bed, leaving the hotel room again.

  I head to the car, and I start looking at the dashcam footage, seeing the three men exit a vehicle and haphazardly organizing their attack. I am trying to look for some clues in the footage when Marcel calls.

  "Can you talk?" Is the first thing he says.

  "Yes, why?"

  "I'm at the lake house with a cleaning crew. Damn, that aim." he whistles his appreciation. "I never knew you had it in you." He says, and I frown at his praise.

  "I didn't kill them."

  "What are you saying? If you didn't kill them, then..."

  "Bianca."

  "Are you certain?" Marcel asks, and I get the feeling that whatever Marcel is seeing there isn't great.

  "Yes, positive."

  "Man... I don't know how to tell you this."

  "I'm on my way. I'm not far."

  "Your wife?"

  "Sleeping at a hotel."

  "Good. This is... you'll see."

  I end the call and head back to the lake house. That is precisely the issue. I don't want to see it. Somehow, I know that what I will find at the lake house will forever change my relationship with my wife.

  It does not take me long to get there, and I see a few other cars, probably the cleaning crew, in the driveway. Marcel comes to greet me.

  I quickly tell him my version of events and ask.

  "How bad?" He gives me a small grimace.

  "I think we may have found our sniper." He says, and I abruptly turn to him with a questioning look in my eyes.

  "Marcel..." I start, but he stops me.

  "Don't say anything until you see this."

  We enter the house, and I see everyth
ing exactly as we’d left it.

  "I told them not to touch anything until you got here." I nod.

  We go up the stairs until we reach the first two bodies. I crouch down to look at their injuries, and I'm shocked by what I'm seeing.

  "This...how?"

  "It's a clean kill shot. Both of them actually. Do you know what the odds are to get that aim, not once but twice?"

  "Not great, I'm guessing.”

  "Extremely rare." He waves over a young man that was standing by on the sidelines.

  "Jacob, you do this all the time. What does this shot tell you?" Marcel asks for his opinion. A feeling of dread starts taking shape in my stomach.

  "That's a pro-shot. And I mean pro, pro-shot." Marcel thanks him, and I give them leave to deal with these two corpses.

  Jacob and another guy come over with what looks like a body bag. They lay it open on the floor and, almost carelessly, they dump one of the bodies inside it. They do the same with the other one. It strikes me as almost inhuman the way they treat the bodies, but then I remember that it’s their job. By now, they’ve probably become too desensitized to it… to death.

  "Now, onto the third guy. You already told me that she shot him twice." Marcel snaps me to attention, motioning for the second story of the house.

  We get to the top of the stairs, and I see exactly what those shots had been. One shot to his wrist, to remove his weapon, and then another kill shot to the head. His hand has a glaring hole in it, suggesting just how clean the shot had been. I slowly peruse the other gunshot wound, and I’m amazed at the alignment of the bullet. Squinting, I look at the distance between the wound and each eye. It’s almost mathematical in precision.

  "Again, what are the odds that someone got three perfect kill shots in these conditions? None, unless..." He lets it hang, and I fill the gap.

  "Unless it's a professional."

  "This doesn't look good, Theo. Not only that, but we have her at the scene of Martinez’s shooting too."

  "What are you trying to say? That my wife is some sort of trained killer?" I ask, sounding a little more defensive than intended.

  "All I'm saying is that the evidence is piling up... and it's up to you whether you believe it a fluke that she got those shots, or not."

  "Damn..." I mutter

  "And I've been thinking..." Marcel frowns, bringing his hand to his forehead.

  "What?"

  "Remember the schoolgirl? I want to watch the footage again." I look at him suspiciously for a second, before I realize what he's hinting at. I barely nod, a little taken aback by the potential conjecture. Marcel tells the rest of the crew to finish the job and we head to his car.

  Leaving the house behind, I see more staff in special equipment going towards the house with cleaning supplies. These guys sure are thorough. I wonder where Marcel found them.

  "I have a laptop with me." Marcel mentions as we get to his car. He opens the computer and plays the footage again. Surely enough, we first see the footage of my wife going inside the hotel and then exiting.

  "She was in there for two hours," I say, realizing she couldn't have taken a shower for that long.

  "And then..." Marcel plays the footage for the day of the shooting, where we only see the schoolgirl leaving, but not arriving. We pause on the frame.

  "Her height matches," Marcel adds. I squint at the still, but I can't make out much else.

  "That would mean she had another disguise going in."

  "Or she didn't use the main entrance."

  "Damn... ok. Let's say that it was her. How did she even know I was meeting with Martinez, or where I was meeting him?"

  Marcel and I think on it for a second before we both look at each other in horror.

  "The bug we found!" He is the first to note.

  "We thought it was the opposition... Shit."

  "Your wife... how well do you know her, Theo?"

  "Not at all it seems... but how? I still can't believe it. How?"

  "You don't just become that skilled overnight, Theo. She's had years and years of practice."

  "The apartment Rico followed her to. Did you find who it belongs to?"

  "Not yet, most likely, I'll get a reply on Monday." I nod, and then frown again.

  "So, let me get this straight. My wife’s not cheating on me, but she is a trained killer and a liar. Fuck me, I don't know what's worse."

  "You're taking this surprisingly well."

  "Trust me, I haven't fully internalized it. My whole marriage is a farce. Who knows how many other lies she's told me?”

  "Don't let her know you know. We need to be careful if we want to find out more."

  "At this point, I'm really scared what more I could find out."

  "There is something I can do to help," Marcel says and opens a briefcase, withdrawing a tiny device. "It's small but packs a punch. Integrated GPS and listening device. Might help."

  "Thanks," I mumble before adding. "I should head back. I can't have her wake up and not find me there. Especially now."

  "I agree. I'll take care of the rest here. Just... be on alert. We don't know how dangerous she is. Or worse... if she works for someone."

  "Wait... You actually think she might have been sent by someone?"

  "That skill... there are a handful of people who can do what she does, and they all come with an extreme price tag. We can't let our guard down, especially now that we're going deeper into the Jimenez shit." He's right. I hadn't even thought of it from that angle until now.

  "Fuck! Fine, I'll be careful."

  I leave the lake house, trying to block all thoughts during the ride to the hotel. I wasn't lying to Marcel when I'd told him I hadn't internalized the information. Because it’s absurd. Yet... all evidence points to the absurd as truth.

  Who are you, Bianca?

  I quietly enter the hotel room, take off my clothes, and slide into the bed next to my wife. Instinctively she snuggles closer to me.

  An image suddenly appears in my mind.

  The moment I'd opened the door at the lake house when I'd seen her aiming the gun at the intruder. Her expression had been cold... blank. I superimposed it to the image I had of Bianca, sweet and innocent.

  It didn't match. They were two different people.

  I just had the worst realization that the Bianca I loved might not even exist.

  So far, Bianca's maintained her facade. It's funny because, for all her pretense, she's never once asked me to notify the police. She tried to get some information on what Marcel did with the bodies, but I shut her down.

  She doesn't need to know for now.

  Because my own wife may be a cold-blooded killer, the less she knows, the better. I can't believe she might have planted bugs on me. How long has she been doing this? Tracking me? Listening to conversations? There are so many questions going through my head right now, but I cannot allow myself to crack or show that I am in any way suspicious of her. I have to treat her as I've always done and figure out who she really is.

  I almost want to laugh.

  My wife, a killer, and a liar.

  Hey, at least she hasn't slept with another man, my inner voice is telling me. I'm even almost mad at myself for being relieved she's not having an affair. But yes, if I'm being frank, I'd rather she be a killer than a cheater. What does that say about me? That I'm just as fucked up like her?

  Yeah, I'll take that.

  But more than anything, I'm disappointed. A disappointment so deep, I feel like a part of my heart withered and died. After spending most of my teens and early twenties in what could only be described as hell on earth, doing everything to survive to see another day, I'd thought she was my peace, my salvation. Instead, it slowly downs on me that I'd exchanged one hell for another. I can never escape the violence or wash the blood away.

  I'm startled out of my thoughts by a beeping sound that indicates we're running low on gas. I furtively glance at Bianca, and she has her bag on her lap, her hands nervously fidgeting with it.


  "Gotta fill the tank," I say, and she just nods absentmindedly.

  "I can't believe after last night we still have to meet my father."

  "Yeah... me too."