Fractured Breaths

by Zoey Derrick

  I spin her around and press her against the back of the elevator, holding her there while I turn around and stop the elevator. My hand is still over her mouth. Her eyes are wide. “If I release your mouth, are you going to scream?” She nods. “Stubborn as always, I see,” I mutter. “I will not hurt you, Livia.” Her eyes widen, but the mention of a long lost name forces her to settle a little. “I just want to talk to you. Will you scream?” This time, she shakes her head. “Good, now, are you here to see Kyle?” She stiffens under me again and vehemently shakes her head. I release her mouth, but I don’t release my hold on her.

  “Why are you here?” she asks, her voice shaky. Her eyes dart over to the elevator panel as it beeps.

  “Is there a problem?” A disembodied voice breaks the silence and I have no choice but to put the elevator back in motion.

  “No,” I answer as the elevator unlocks itself and starts to climb toward the eighth floor, two floors below Bryan. “Are you staying here?” I ask her and she nods. “We need to talk,” I tell her. When the elevator doors open, I don’t give her much choice as I grab her hand and pull her down the hallway. “Which one?” I demand.

  “Eight-nineteen.” Her voice is soft, but I can sense her fear. I need to find a way to ease her a bit.

  I turn to her. “Kevin McKinney is looking for you.”

  She tenses and rips her hand from mine. “How do you know that name?”

  “He was my partner.”

  “You’re a cop?”

  “Was. Now, can we talk?”

  She nods and leads me two more doors down before she digs out her keycard and slides it in. She holds the door open for me. I nod and reach up to cup her cheek, to comfort her, but she pulls away from me. I frown at her and move further into her room.

  It’s just a standard room, nothing more than any normal hotel room, but it’s obvious she’s been here for a few days but not much more than that. “What do you want, Leo?”

  I frown. “My name is not Leo. Leo was my cover.” I let my accent shine through a little more. Once she can hear and understand that I am anything but Italian, I’m hoping she will trust me a little more.

  “So what’s your real name?” She tosses her key card on the desk near the door and folds her arms over her chest.

  “Liam, Liam Callahan.”

  “You promised to protect me. To keep me safe. But when they came for us…” Her voice cracks with tears, fear and something else, pain.

  “I was there, Livia…”

  “No, you weren’t. They locked me up like some fucking lab rat. Interrogated me for days before they finally released me. I never saw you again.”

  “I was there the night they raided the house. I was hidden by my tactical gear. If something went wrong, if someone got away, I couldn’t risk any one of them running back to Vito and blowing my cover.”

  “This is all so fucked up, you understand this, right? You promised you’d keep me safe, that you’d get me out of there.”

  I turn on her, “I did get you out of there, didn’t I? You’re safe, you’re alive and you are still fucking turning tricks.” My anger comes through in a way I never intended it to. She fights back with every ounce of the Livia Fazio I know.

  “Fuck you, it’s not like you or your fucking goons handed me much of an opportunity to get myself right. You forced me out of the city, handed me a new identity, a shitty fucking apartment and no one to keep an eye on me. I’ve spent the last eight years moving from city to city, state to state, praying like hell Vito and his goons wouldn’t find me. I did what I had to do to survive then and I’m doing what I have to do to survive now.”

  She turns toward the door and opens it. “Get out.”

  “I’m not done talking.”

  “I don’t give a flying fuck. Get the fuck out of my room before I call the cops.”

  I approach her. “Yeah, 'cause that will go over real well, sweetheart…with your solicitation record.”

  The next thing I know, her hand connects with my cheek.

  I ignore it and I pull my business card from my pocket, holding it out to her. “If you want more answers, this is how you reach me. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Do they know?”

  “Who? The Feds? Or Vito?”

  “Both?”

  “The Feds? Yes. Vito and his gang of idiots were taken down and off the streets before you were released from custody. They were never coming after you, which is why no one was handling you.”

  “You can’t know that,” she breathes but she refuses to meet my eyes.

  “Look at me.” She doesn’t. “Look at me, Livia, so you know that what I tell you is the truth.” Finally her eyes meet mine. “You were nothing but a whore in the chains of Vito’s gang.” Her eyes narrow at me. “No one gives a shit and no one knows who gave them up.”

  “They always know.”

  “Well, the information you gave me, I turned over to the Feds. With more than four years of undercover work, trust me, I didn’t learn anything from you that I didn’t already know.” My voice takes on a cold edge, one she recognizes immediately. Her reaction, however, is not what I expected.

  She spits in my face.

  I grab her chin and push her against the door. “I needed to know whether or not you were the woman I thought you were. I needed to know whether or not you were willing to turn on Tony and Deets for all their bullshit. I did what I had to do to make sure you stayed safe.”

  “By fucking me over?” Her voice is soft, hurt.

  I cock my head at her. “What. I had. To do,” I state sternly.

  “You used me.” I release her chin.

  I snort, “That’s rich, considering what you do for a living.”

  She tries to smack me again but this time I stop her, grabbing her by the wrist and holding it tightly. “I had no fucking choice,” she pleads.

  “Then, but you do now.” I push her arm away and walk out the door. She doesn’t argue with me; she slams the door shut behind me.

  My heart is hammering in my chest as the pain of seeing the pain in her eyes rips through me.

  Chapter Four

  Moving On.

  BECCA

  Unknown Number: There’s a party on Saturday, Blu 8:00 – Ireland would love to see you.

  Becca: Who is this?

  Unknown Number: Dyson – Ireland’s boyfriend.

  Becca: Not sure that’s a good idea.

  Dyson: I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but she needs her best friend.

  It’s been four months since Leo, or Liam, whatever his name is, accosted me in the hotel elevator.

  In those four months, everything has changed.

  The mention of Ireland brings back the memory of telling her I was moving out. It turned out to be so much harder than I’d expected it to be. Before my encounter with Liam, I was sure Vito and the Ricci crime family were still looking for me.

  Now, I’m not so sure.

  I’m pretty sure Liam never knew how I ended up the only Italian-American whore in Ricci’s arsenal, which tells me I’m not out of the woods just yet. Despite his belief that I was only a whore, I’m afraid I was much more than that to them.

  Sure, Ireland and I had our moments, just like most friends do, but I do love her like a sister and maybe it’s time to start treating her like one. This is why it was so hard to ruin a good thing. I need to find it in me to uproot my life and move on.

  I distanced myself when she started asking too many questions and I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s going to say, do, or even think when and if I finally come clean to her about my past, about who I am. Not to mention that boyfriend of hers. Her association with me and my past can’t be good for his business. It’s not good for anyone’s business.

  But before I can do that, I have to find a way to repair my relationship with her first. How? I have no clue, but tomorrow night’s party might be the best place to start.

  Becca: I’ll come.

>   Dyson: Good, we’ll see you then.

  Now I’m sitting in the parking lot of Blu Phoenix. My favorite bar. The same bar Reese and I saw the concert without Ireland, the same night Leo became Liam and my whole life changed, again. I’ve been coming here since the joint opened and even though they try to hide it, the bartenders and owners take care of me. That’s probably a good thing.

  Even though I’ve never been busted when I’ve been here working the room for a little cash on the side it bothers me that I’m working an establishment I enjoy going to. Not to mention the ramifications the bar could face if I were ever busted here.

  I watch the entrance for a little while. Not to many people coming and definitely no one is going. I see a couple people I recognize, but they’re people I can’t put names to. I’ve seen them somewhere, but they’re gone before I can put two and two together.

  There are bouncers at the door, though I’ve never seen them before, at least not in this capacity. They’re dressed nice in dress pants and button-up shirts. Most of them are packing, which is either a good thing, or a bad thing, I’m not sure which. Regardless, everyone who has showed up has been let in. Until now. A man, dressed for a night of drinking and dancing gets turned away from the door. Then shortly after that, another couple of girls get turned away.

  It’s invitation only.

  Shit. How am I going to get in there?

  When the crowd is inside I finally decide to get out of the car and head for the door. “What’s the worst that can happen? They turn me away?” I mumble as I approach the door.

  “Sorry, ma’am, there’s a private party tonight.”

  “I was invited.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Becca, Becca Carpenter?” I say as a question versus a statement and the guy starts talking into his headset.

  “We have a Becca Carpenter outside, says she was invited?” There is brief pause, before he says, “Okay, thanks.” He turns back to me and says, “Wait here.”

  “Why do I have to wait…?”

  The door behind him opens and out steps a well-dressed man with copper red hair. I slouch. “Sorry guys, I made a mistake.” I turn on my heel and start walking quickly toward my car.

  “Becca, wait!”

  I shake my head and throw my hands up in frustration.

  “Don’t make me say it.”

  I turn on my heel again and charge back toward Liam. “Might as well, you’ve blown up everything else in my life, now you’re blocking me from a party I was invited to.”

  “I assure you, they don’t need a...”

  I slap him across the face so hard it makes my hand sting before he can get the word out of his mouth. “I am not a whore.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, alright. I’m pissed off at you.”

  “What the fuck did I ever do to you?” I snap.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Livia, you broke your promise. It makes me feel like everything you ever said to me, every time you were ever scared or unsure, feel like a fucking act. You continue behaving the same way I risked my life, my job and my station within the Ricci family for to get you out of that house and out of that situation. It’s a slap in the goddamn face.”

  “Why did you care so much? Why did you care so much about me?”

  He runs his hand over his hair. He’s frustrated, but he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me.

  “You should have just left me there to die.”

  “I felt the need to protect you.”

  “Why me and not them?”

  “Because, growing up, your father was my best friend.”

  I freeze, staring blankly at him. The mention of my father hasn’t been brought up in close to ten years.

  “It was because of your father that I convinced the FBI to look into the Ricci family. That got them to finally take the accusations your father made toward them more seriously.”

  “My father was a dirty cop,” I sneer at him.

  “Yes and no. Look, this isn’t something we can talk about in a parking lot of a party you’re supposed to be attending, and it’s not a conversation that can be held in a matter of minutes. Look,” he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He pulls something from a hidden pocket and hands it to me. “He was my friend. I was deep inside the family when your father got killed. I spent the next two years trying like hell to track you down, to get you to trust me, to get you out of there. Despite what you think, no one ever stopped looking for you. I,” he points at himself with his thumb, “never gave up.”

  I wipe a stray tear from my cheek and stare at the photograph of a much younger version of my father standing next to a redheaded boy in front of an ice cream shop in the Bronx, a place my father took me frequently when I was younger. “That was his favorite place to go,” I sniff.

  Liam smiles at me. “I met you there, more than a few times, in fact.”

  I look at him, trying to place him, but like everything else lately, I get the familiarity but can’t place him exactly. “I don’t remember that, I’m sorry.”

  He nods and takes the picture from me and carefully returns it to his wallet. “I know. It’s okay. You were little then. My job with the Bureau took up the majority of my life, I didn’t have the time I wanted to have with your father.”

  “Why are you here?” I finally find something to change the subject. “Is he here? The guy from the club the other night?” The worry about my ‘other job’ sneaks into my voice and he catches it.

  “He is, though his name isn’t Kyle, it’s Bryan. I assure you, he won’t say anything to anyone.”

  Bryan…Bryan… the strip club…the song. “Bryan Hayes?” My voice cracks.

  Liam cocks a smirk at me before bringing his finger to his lips and shushing me. “He has just as much to lose by outing you as you do. Trust me, the secret is safe.”

  I nod in understanding and he turns to leave. “You coming?”

  “In a minute. I need a minute.”

  He nods. “They’ll let you in this time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, by the way, I love the new hair color.”

  I grab a strand and look at it. The blonde is now gone, replaced by blue-black, my natural hair color. I look back at him and smile. “Thanks.”

  BRYAN

  Liam comes back inside and finds me. “We need to talk a minute.”

  “Sure, what’s up?”

  He leads me toward the corner, away from everyone.

  “Do you remember the stripper?”

  I snort a laugh, “How could I forget her?”

  “She’s here.”

  “Fuck, are you kidding…”

  “Shh, Jesus, lower your voice and take a deep one. She’s a friend of Ireland and Dyson, who are friends with Cami and Tristan.” He looks over his shoulder and indicates across the room. “The fiery redhead,” he says before turning back to whisper in my ear. My eyes land on the slightly pregnant redhead who’s busy talking with Dex, his woman, plus Derek Hunter and his wife as Liam continues talking. “I told her your name. She put two and two together. Now, before you lose your shit about that, I didn’t have much of a choice, unless you want to let everyone in here know about a trip to the strip club a few months ago.”

  He has a point there. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t want her calling you Kyle and most importantly, no one here knows about her penchant for stripping. I’m pretty sure she’d like to keep it that way. Feel me?”

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  “You don’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to.”

  Just then, the door opens and in walks a tall, gorgeous dark-haired beauty. If Liam hadn’t warned me, I wouldn’t have even recognized her. The blonde hair is gone and is replaced by a gorgeous blue-black color, her sparking blue-green eyes wide and worried. She’s wearing a pair of tight fitting jeans and a nice, low cut, black V-neck shirt. Her hair falls in waves over her shoulders and down her back.

  I’m staring at her
when her eyes meet mine. I give her a smile and a wink. She gives me a small smile back and proceeds to find her friend.

  I watch the interaction between her and her redheaded friend, who seems surprised to see her. My curiosity surrounding their exchange only grows further when the redhead is whisked away to the back room for some sort of surprise I heard about, something about a gender reveal. It seems appropriate since both the redhead and Cami are pregnant. Cami disappears with Ireland and Dyson, a friend of Cami and Tristan’s, continues talking to the girl. Sorcha, Becca, Livia – whatever her name is.

  Thinking about all the different names she’s used makes me wonder what I should actually call her, provided I get the nerve to step away from the wall and approach her. It’s not that I can’t talk to women, because I most certainly can, but I’m struggling with the reality that I first met her in a strip club and she was on stage, not in the audience. I shake my head at the idea of the field day reporters will have with that one.

  If it bothers you so much, why can’t you take your eyes off her?

  That painful inner voice is back again, and of course, it’s right.

  “What’s wrong, lad?” I close my eyes, breaking the visual of her standing there smiling at Dyson as they chat, and I turn to Liam.

  I nod my head in her direction. “What’s her story?”

  He shakes his head. “Not my story to tell. It’s something you need to ask her.”

  I huff, “Yeah, because we met on such good terms the first time around. I recall a gun in your back at that one.” I cock a questioning eyebrow at him. “How long have you known her?”

  He leans against the wall beside me before answering, “Known her, known her? Not long. I first met her as a child, a young child. Then several years later, I ran into while I was working undercover in New York.”

  I nod in understanding. While I don’t know anything about the job Liam did, I’m well aware of his undercover career while he was with the FBI. “Is she the reason you got hurt?”

  He snorts, “No.”