White Hot

by Carmen Faye

  Sydney had two older brothers, but Shayla was an only child from a home with very little family in the house. She was sure she had grandparents on her mother’s side, somewhere in Arizona, but she never met them and knew nothing about them. But now, Shayla had a large and growing family with Neil and Sydney. The girls were a wonderful part of that family, and she was smitten with the both of them—though Sandy, the youngest, was in full possession of her heart-strings.

  Sandy and she sent many text messages to each other every day and shared digital pictures of book covers, movie posters, cute boys, jewelry, sunsets, awesome cars, cute boys, painted fingernails, painted toenails, funny faces, cute boys, and anything else they wanted to share with the other — and cute boys. They talked on the phone together at least three times every week, and Sandy always sent her a goodnight-heart message when she went to bed.

  She liked Jill, Neil’s oldest sister, but Jill gravitated more toward Sydney, who—if Shayla’s radar was working correctly—Jill had a bit of a crush on.

  She wondered if Sydney realized this, and if she should bring it up, but so far it seemed harmless and perhaps more of a “hero worship” thing than an actual romantic crush. She wouldn’t be surprised at all to find that Sydney was oblivious to Jill’s clandestine attentions. She also wouldn’t be surprised to discover that Jill herself was unaware of her shy and furtive glances at her wife. But Shayla got the impression from Jill’s manner that she would be upset at the suggestion that she was gay, so Shayla kept her mouth shut. Not everything needed to be voiced or discussed.

  When they got back home with Thai food, the girls were already there with Neil, in his studio. After setting down the boxes of carry-out food, they both went in to see what the three of them were up to, and found Neil explaining how he mixed up music and then added in his guitar pieces. Then he played them his latest composition, turning it up so that the bass could be felt across their skin.

  It was good. In fact, it was really good, and when Neil’s guitar began to play, Shayla got goosebumps and began moving her hips to the rhythm.

  After the song was over, she and Sydney clapped their hands and the girls and Neil turned around to find them in the doorway. Sandy ran to her and hit her in the gut with a hug.

  “Shayla!” she screamed. “Did you hear that? Wasn’t that great!?”

  “Yes I did. It made me want to dance,” she agreed.

  “Me too! It rocked!” Sandy agreed, then she gave Sydney a hug. “Is dinner here? Can I help?”

  “Sure,” Sydney told her, and then gave a smile to Jill who, Shayla believed, almost blushed. “Want to help too, Jill?”

  “Sure,” Jill replied, her voice and manner much more controlled than Sandy’s, but not so much she didn’t seem pleased at the offer.

  Shayla turned on the lights in the living room and in the dining room, and then turned on the radio. Then she went into the kitchen with the others and helped to dish up the food into serving plates and bowls. Jill set the table with plates and silverware. Sandy grabbed up a vase of flowers that Neil had brought home the day before and put them on the table.

  It was a good night, and all around her was laughter and smiles and a feeling of domestic excitement—just happy to be together. It wasn’t a party, or an event, or celebration—it was so much more than that. It was Friday night with family.

  Once Neil came out of his studio and sat down at the head of the table, the girls sat down at each side of him, leaving the other two chairs to her and Sydney, which felt perfect. She sat down next to Sandy, with Sydney next to Jill, and the sparkle in her eye was unmistakable. It again making her wonder if she shouldn’t mention something to Sydney after all.

  She was just wondering if she should at least talk to Amanda about Jill’s feelings when Sydney reached for the noodles and spilled her wine glass. Shayla jumped up, grabbing for the glass—which was silly really, since the wine was already covering the table side—when she felt a tug hit her shoulder. And then she was spinning and crashing into Sandy, who had stood up as well.

  Then Hell broke free, and the world erupted into violence and screams.

  The table was thrown up to stand on end, sending dishes and glasses flying to the floor. She fell into Sandy’s chair and then landed on the carpet as Neil ran past her heading for the front door with a gun in his hand. Sandy was screaming and pushing her little hands on her shoulder and yelling for Sydney. Then Sydney was there, saying, “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

  But Shayla’s eyes were on Neil. She saw him change from a calm, fun, older brother and lover into a storm of bestial violence. His right hand hammered into the wall beside the front door and ripped out from it a huge rifle while he dropped the pistol he had in his left hand to the floor. Then he threw open the front door, got down on his knee while bringing the rifle up, and began firing out into the night.

  The rifle fired a roaring stream of bullets, and then it made a loud pop! A second later there was a massive explosion thundering outside, and car alarms up and down the street went mad.

  Sydney ran toward the door and scooped up the dropped pistol and then ran back to Shayla’s side. “It’s alright, baby! I’m calling the ambulance right now,” Sydney told her.

  Ambulance? Why? Who’s hurt? Shayla wondered.

  Then she saw the blood all over Sandy’s and Jill’s hands from pressing into the wound on her shoulder.

  Another explosion rocked the night outside, followed by another stream of rifle fire.

  “I love you, pixie,” she said to Sandy, and then the world faded to black.

  Simon ran down the street. He knew Neil was behind him. He was not only sure that Neil could see him, but was certain that he could smell him as well. Never before had Simon felt so well-marked and exposed.

  He was in good shape, but Neil was gaining on him. He could hear his boots getting louder behind him, and feel his iron gray eyes on the back of his neck with the crawling anticipation of teeth bearing down on his exposed flesh.

  Simon’s trained mind decided on a defense and his assassin’s body readied itself to respond to a grapple or a tackle, but then his rear foot was kicked so hard it tangled with the other and he fell splayed out onto the sidewalk. Then Neil was on him.

  With lightning fast strikes, he desperately hammered skilled fists into Neil’s chest and throat, but then Neil’s right hand engulfed his neck, and his left hand gripped Simon’s head. There was a sudden and violent cracking sound, and Simon realized that it was the sound of his own neck snapping.

  Simon Grimm looked into the savage gray eyes of a tiger, and then he died.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The first time Shayla woke she was amidst confusion and chaos. The gurney was being pulled out from the back of the ambulance and medics were rushing here through the emergency room doors. Doctors were suddenly in her face with flashlights and barking orders. Ceiling lights rolled by above her as she heard words like “STAT” and “surgery.” The pain in her shoulder throbbed and burned.

  The next time she woke was in a room with crying women, and Sydney was there, holding her hand.

  “Shayla? Shayla? Are you awake, baby?” Sydney asked softly.

  She met her wife’s eyes and nodded. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. She forced out the word, “Thirsty.”

  Sydney offered her a cup of water with a bendy-straw. She sipped, and then nodded as relief swelled in her throat.

  “Hospital?” she asked Sydney.

  “Yes,” Sydney agreed. “They got the bullet out. It took a while because it was fragmented.”

  “There goes our Italian photoshoot,” she sighed.

  Sydney looked confused for a moment, and then laughed and wiped away some tears.

  Sandy and Jill came around to the other side of the bed and Sandy took her hand. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine pixie,” she told her.

  “After you said you loved me, I thought you died,” Sandy blubbered.

  “I said
I loved you to let you know I wasn’t going anywhere, princess,” she replied.

  She looked back to Sydney and asked, “Neil?”

  Sydney looked behind her, checking that the door was closed, and then said, “There’s no Neil. Not to anyone else, alright?”

  Her mind pieced together the last events before she passed out at the house. “Alright,” she answered. “Now, tell me.”

  Sydney checked the door again, and then said quietly, “He killed the man who shot you, and then left on his trike with that rifle he had hidden in the wall. I think he went after Anton because the news had a story. We’re not sure, though. The cops are pretty sure someone else was in the house with us, but we’ve kept quiet.”

  She processed this, and then told Sydney, “Call our lawyer, right now. Find her.” Then to the girls she said, “Good work, but keep it quiet. Don’t say anything about Neil. You were visiting with us.”

  Both of them nodded solemnly, and she knew they would do exactly what she asked of them.

  It took a little more than an hour for Margaret House, the lawyer that helped them with their names change, to arrive.

  “I don’t want to talk with them here,” Shayla told the older woman, indicating the detectives outside.

  Margaret nodded and then went out to the hallway and talked with the detectives. She left the door open and they could hear her say, “My client is a victim, not a criminal. If you call my office, we’ll be glad to come down and make a statement after she is released. We’ll only be making a statement, however, not subjecting her to any type of examination.”

  “Look,” said the detective, a man in his early forties with balding brown hair and an over-sized gut, “We know someone else was in there with them, and we’re pretty sure that he killed a man, which is a crime. So is obstruction.”

  “I’m very clear on the law, detective,” Margaret said patiently. “I have a degree and everything. So, unless you intend on arresting any of my clients now, then this conversation is over. Here’s my card. Call my office and make an appointment for next week. Perhaps Wednesday or Thursday.”

  “All of them are your clients?” the detective asked suspiciously.

  “All of them. And the girls are minors, so you aren’t talking to them at all,” Margaret replied.

  “Fine,” said the detective. “Since they aren’t involved at all, then they won’t need police protection from whoever hired a professional killer to shoot up their house. Right?”

  Margaret didn’t flinch. “That’s probably true, detective. Now, I’m going to talk with my client for a while and you can go find this killer you are referring to.”

  “It’s more than true,” said a deep male voice from behind the detective. “We got her back.”

  The detective turned and Shayla could see West and Brian standing there.

  “Who the fuck are you two supposed to be?” the detective asked irritably.

  “Watch your language in front of the girls, detective,” West growled at him. “We’re licensed bodyguards. Here’s our ID’s and our concealed weapons permits. Any further questions can be directed to Shayla’s lawyer, because we’re just hired hands. We know nothing about what is going on, except that no one besides medical personnel is allowed in that recovery room. Apparently, from what their lawyer just said, that includes you.”

  The detective turned back to Margaret. “You be sure to inform your client about obstruction, Ms. House. Make sure she understands, because if I find the smallest fraction of evidence that she has answers we need, then I swear to you I’ll arrest her.”

  “Threatening my client will be very unhealthy for your career. That, detective, is a promise,” Margret returned calmly.

  The detective and the police officer with him left. Margaret came back into the room and said, “Alright, now, the more I know the more I can help.” Then she looked at the Sandy and Jill and added, “But perhaps it should wait?”

  Shayla looked to the girls as well and then shook her head. “No, they’ve both been shot at because of this. They should at least know why.” But then she asked Jill, “Have you called your mother yet? Does she know what is going on?”

  Jill looked at the floor. “No, we didn’t know if we should.”

  She told Jill, “She shouldn’t learn about it on the evening news. So call her now. Tell her what happened and let her know you are alright.”

  Jill called her mother, Amanda, and told her what happened and that they were alright but that Shayla was hurt and in the hospital. Then she handed her phone to Sandy, who talked with her for a while and assured her that she was alright as well and wanted to stay.

  When Sandy handed the phone back to Jill, she told Shayla, “My mom is on the way.”

  “That’s good. Sydney and you two should spend the night at your house where it is safe for now,” she told her.

  “But I want to stay with you,” Sandy protested.

  “And I love you, pixie, but I’m safe. I have two very large, very protective men outside the door and you should get some rest so you can help me when I go home tomorrow,” she replies.

  “You’ll be home tomorrow?”

  “I don’t see why not,” she said. “They’ll probably want to keep me tonight, just to make sure I’m not going to have any problems, but other than the pain, I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you should come to our house as well,” Sandy told her.

  “That might be a good idea. I’ll think about that,” she said, and then to Jill she continued, “Tell your mom that you two are going to come home with Sydney. There’s no reason for her to come down here. I’ll see her tomorrow. Alright?”

  Jill nodded and relayed the information, then said, “Mom said not to be foolish, she’s coming down to see you.”

  “Tell her visiting hours are over. I’m probably going to have a pain pill here in a bit and pass out. At least I hope I am.”

  Jill relayed the message again, and then looked at Shayla and nodded her head as a nurse came in and started fussing around. She took Shayla’s vitals and then said her doctor would be in to see her shortly.

  Sydney clasped her hand once more after the doctor left and Jill hung up the phone. She asked that West and Brian shut the door and make sure they weren’t being listened in on. Then she told their lawyer and the girls about trying to go straight again after being cocaine dealers for two years.

  After she was done, the girls were wide-eyed and their lawyer thoughtful.

  Margaret looked her over and said, “They can get you for obstruction for not telling them about Neil. There’s not much I can do for you there if that detective was a serious as he sounded.”

  “Of all the problems I have, I think that one will have to stand in line,” Shayla told her.

  Margret nodded thoughtfully. “Agreed. Alright. I’ll get you until Thursday. After that, though, you have to come clean and take your lumps if there are any to hand out.”

  “You’re the lawyer, and a good one, too. Thanks,” she told her. “But I’m fairly certain that if I can’t come clean by Monday, then I won’t need to worry about it much.”

  Sydney and Sandy kissed her goodbye, and then all of them left. The nurse came back in and gave her a pain pill, which she gratefully took, and allowed the pain to show on her face now that there was no one there to see.

  “Neil?” she said to the window. “Where are you, baby?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Neil fired a 40mm grenade, hitting and opening the front door of Anton’s house with a massive pyrotechnic display. Then he sent a barrage of bullets streaming into the opening and through the front windows. Continuing to send three round blasts into areas of the house, he worked his way from room to room searching for Anton. But he wasn’t home.

  In frustration Neil yanked the gas line off the stove and, from outside the house, sent another 40mm grenade through the front door again. This one did considerably more damage to the house with the gas explosion. Then he started his trike and drove of
f, heading for the club house.

  Halfway there, he pulled over at a gas station and called West while he was filling his tank, giving him the news of the night and asking him to watch over the girls at the hospital.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where Anton is, would you?” Neil asked, as casually as he could manage.

  “Since you are probably out to kill him, as a sworn patch-holder I couldn’t tell you that he is at the club, because that would be a bit traitorous. So, I’ll just tell you that I don’t know,” West replied with the same casual voice.

  Neil smiled and said, “Well, if you don’t know, then you don’t know. Can’t blame you for not knowing something.”