by Heidi Lowe
“You're the most selfish person I've ever met,” Layke said, shaking her head in disbelief, feeling her eyes start to water. “I knew it was a mistake me coming here. Why the hell did I waste my time?” She went to leave, but rage got the better of her. She spun around to face Willa again. “You got me to care. I didn't want to, but it happened. And now I worry whether you live or die! I think about the life you live, the things you do, the people you get involved with, and all I can think is that you're going to get yourself killed, and I won't be able to stop it. So goddamn you, Willa!” She turned away to hide her face, to hide her pain. “Goddamn you.”
Moments later she felt a hand slip around her waist from behind, smelled Willa's soapy scent, felt her lips on the nape of her neck. Layke's eyes drifted shut and she let herself be held, comforted. This was the reward she'd been after, and it was well worth the risk.
“You're falling for me, aren't you?” Willa whispered, kissing the back of her neck.
“Yes.”
“How does it feel?”
“Horrible!”
Willa gave a husky laugh, still pressing her lips to Layke's flesh. “Way to make a girl feel good about herself.”
Layke turned to face her. “Let me help you.”
“You can't,” Willa said firmly.
“You know who did it, don't you?”
“I can't answer that, Layke.”
“So what am I supposed to do? How do I not feel useless in all of this?”
Willa took her by the hand, walked her to the bed, sat down with her. “My father did some terrible things in his time, and your father knew it. Tried to bring him down, more than once. Somehow their feud has worked its way down to us, so instead of making love, we're fighting. We're fighting a war that we didn't start. I'm not my father, and you're not yours. I want us to be us, for you to be Layke Owen, and leave the badge at the door.”
“So we never discuss work when we're together?”
Willa nodded. “You think you can do that?”
“Honestly, no.”
“You think you can try?”
Layke saw the pleading in her eyes, the urgency that perhaps Willa wasn't aware of herself, and she knew she would at least try. It would mean locking a part of her away, the cop in her, the detective. It meant ignoring the fact that the woman she was falling for had all but told her she was planning on killing another human being – possibly multiple human beings. It seemed like every day her loyalty to her job, the inner fabric of her being, was being put to the test.
“You'll have to leave before dawn.” Willa weaved her fingers through Layke's auburn locks, as her head rested on Willa's stomach. The texture was silky smooth; it soothed her to do it. She could forget, momentarily, that she was injured and one of her closest friends had been murdered. The gentle lull of Layke's breathing took all of her cares away.
“You're already trying to get rid of me?” Layke joked. “I've only been here a couple of hours and you're already sick of me. Nice.”
“Hey,” Willa said, lifting Layke's head to look at her. “I want you to stay. But my brothers will be back pretty early, and it wouldn't go down well them seeing you here.”
“We both have something at stake. I would lose my job if the department found out about us.”
“We could lose our lives if my people found out.”
Layke sat up, suddenly startled, big green eyes apprehensive. The top two buttons of her blouse were open, and her pants were lying on the floor in a heap. Although her hair was ruffled and had the appearance of someone who'd been making love all night, no such thing had taken place. They'd talked, and kissed, and talked some more, and that had been sufficient.
“Tell me that's a joke.”
Willa couldn't, because to do so would have meant lying to her, and they'd only just gotten onto the same page.
“Holy shit,” Layke said. She ran a hand through her hair, slightly hysterical. “They would do that, just because... because–”
“You're a cop, Layke.” Willa took her hand, tried to calm her. “And not just any cop, you're the daughter of the guy that tried to put our father away for life. You're public enemy number one around here.”
“If you think that way, why are we doing this?” Layke yanked her hand away, looking sullen.
“Because I can't quit you. And you said it yourself, I'm stubborn. I don't like people telling me what to do, or who I can and cannot do.” She gave a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood, which had turned sour so quickly it made her head spin. For the past two hours it had been pure bliss, just being there with her, getting to know the woman behind the badge. There were still several hours until dawn – still several hours left to enjoy her company.
But Layke didn't return the smile. “So this is you lashing out, doing something just because you shouldn't? Is that all I am to you?”
“What? No! That's not what I meant.”
“That's what it sounded like.”
“Do you think I would risk my life for something meaningless? Jesus, Layke, are you usually this tightly wound with your fiance, or is it just with me?”
Layke exhaled, letting her shoulders drop, letting her body loosen up once more. “You make me so angry sometimes. I haven't known you for long but you already infuriate me like you've been in my life for decades.”
Willa chuckled, pulled her close. Layke positioned herself on her lap, facing her. They kissed. “We fight like we've been together for decades. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.” Or maybe it was just what it was. This was relatively new to her, the fighting. She'd never been sufficiently invested to care enough to fight with her ex-lovers. At least, she'd never been invested enough to try to appease them when they started a fight. But with Layke she felt the overwhelming desire to reconcile. For once it meant not lashing out, not having the last word; it meant not only thinking of herself.
She kissed her again and let her mouth linger, let her lips lightly brush against Layke's when she spoke. “I'm going away for awhile, going to lie low. I want you to come and stay with me for a few days.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don't know yet. Somewhere off the grid. Somewhere no one will go looking for me.”
“Is this about Ambrisi?”
Willa brought a finger to her mouth to hush her. “No work talk, remember?” she said, and silently applauded herself for not being caught out. If she'd been even a little distracted she would have answered yes, thereby confirming that she did in fact know who was behind the shooting. She wasn't sure whether or not Layke had deliberately tried to trick her into talking; even if she had, Willa reasoned, it would have only been out of her sheer need to help. She was a detective till the end; it almost made Willa laugh. “So will you come when I call?”
“I'll try,” Layke said.
“Try hard. My arm should be better by then...”
Layke grinned. “And?”
“And my movement won't be restricted...”
“And?”
Willa nibbled on her ear, then whispered, “And I'll be able to make love to you the way only I can.” Just thinking about it was making her wet. Having her beautiful redhead lover on her lap, her scent almost hypnotic, wasn't helping the situation. Although they could have done most of the things they'd done before, Willa didn't feel she was in top form, and didn't have the confidence she needed to perform. Leaving Layke disappointed wasn't an option. So the wait would be excruciating. She could almost taste her, could almost feel her sex against her tongue. The image was remarkably vivid.
“Well, when you put it like that, how can I resist?” Layke giggled.
SEVENTEEN
Layke had never been one to take vacation time, time off, a break from the daily grind, whatever people called it. It was one of the things that she and Dustin had in common, why they had lasted as long as they had. Like her, he found it difficult to tear himself away from the job. But unlike her, the thought of spending longer than a few
days away, as a couple, had been the driving force behind her reluctance to take a vacation.
“Sergeant, do you have a second?” she said when her boss walked into the room. She'd just spent the last half an hour at her desk working up the courage to ask. It wasn't that the request was too big, just that her eagerness to go, she feared, would culminate in her boss seeing right through her and knowing her intent. When a person set out to do something they shouldn't, it often showed on their face. Over the years she'd come to realize that, which made it easier to identify felons.
“What is it, Owen?” He sounded tired.
“So, I've got some vacation time available, right?”
“Yes, as does everyone...”
“Right. Do you think I could maybe get a few days off next week?”
“How much is a few?”
“Four or five.”
Her boss's grin was lewd, suggestive. “Dirty trip away with the fiance planned, huh?”
She cleared her throat. “Something like that.”
“Well, it's pretty quiet around here. Put the request form on my desk by the end of the day and I'll sign it off.” He was gone before she could thank him.
When she returned to her desk, Velazquez had a similarly lewd grin on her face. “Wow, Layke, you're taking time off? Must be a really dirty trip.” She was swiveling on her chair like a kid, a far cry from looking like the detective she was.
“Didn't your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop?” Layke said, settling back in her seat.
“The only thing that woman ever taught me was how to put on makeup without looking like I work at a circus! Besides, I'm a cop, I'm allowed to eavesdrop.”
Layke laughed. “You would actually make a good clown.”
Velazquez chuckled. “So, where are you going? Where's Mr Advertising taking you?” That was Velazquez's name for Dustin, because in the past she'd been notorious for getting his name wrong, calling him everything from Justin to Derek. This way she never got it wrong, though Dustin didn't much care for his new moniker.
“I don't know yet,” Layke said. She hadn't spoken to Willa in days, didn't even know if the plan was still on, and didn't know where she was hiding out.
“What if it's Venice?” Velazquez's eyes lit up with animation, suddenly dreamy. “Man, can you imagine that? Four nights in Venice with the man of your dreams.”
“I've been to Venice; it smells like a sewer.” She made a face.
“Yeah, but it's Venice. The city of romance and gondolas. So it smells a bit stale, it beats being locked inside behind a desk, doing busy work.”
Layke doubted Willa had jetted off to Venice, and doubted even more that she expected her to join her there. Not unless Willa was footing the bill for an impromptu trip to Italy. They hadn't reached that point in their relationship; heck, they hadn't reached the point that they were even in a relationship.
So what exactly were they? Layke had asked herself that a dozen times, and hadn't come any closer to figuring it out. They'd crossed the line of being mere lovers, that much she was certain of. You didn't lie in bed with someone, knowing you were putting your lives in danger by being together, if you were simply lovers. Nor did you plan a clandestine vacation at an undisclosed location in order to be alone together. A friend in college, a girl who went through boyfriends like she went through underwear, once told her that living with someone for a few days, just the two of you, was a great way to ascertain if they were right for you. Was that what this trip was about? Because Layke didn't need to leave the city to know the answer to that. Of course Willa wasn't right for her. In fact, Willa may have been as wrong a suitor as any person could be for her. On paper. In practice, Layke had never felt more comfortable with another person than she did with her.
“If you're with the right person, it doesn't matter where you go,” she said finally, unaware of the tiny smile that had settled on her lips.
“What a dump!” Willa peered around at the dingy furniture of her double room in the Sleep Treat Motel. The matching drapes and carpet were dull and gray, and the bedsheets were so far off-white they might as well have been gray, too. There was an armchair in the corner, so tattered it looked as though a couple of cats had been scratching at it. She'd driven for three hours and finally spotted somewhere where she could rest, where no one would think to look for her. Somewhere that took cash payment and didn't ask questions.
The room attendant, a mousy woman in a homemade cardigan, handed her the key, and didn't seem too aggrieved by the remark about her place of work. “It isn't much to look at, I know. But it won't break the bank. Enjoy your stay.”
Willa plonked her suitcase down by the bed. She wanted to sit down, but not on those sheets. She checked out the bathroom, twisted the taps on, then switched on the shower; everything was in working order.
“That's something, I guess,” she said dully.
Five minutes later, she was back in her car, going on the hunt for a supermarket close by. And an hour later, she had returned to her room with brand new sheets and food for the dinky refrigerator, which made a constant purring noise. She stripped the bed, her wounded arm aching a little, and put on the new bedding, stashing the old ones under the bed. Now she could rest.
The buzzing, vibrating of her cell phone on the bedside table woke her the following morning. Disoriented from sleep, she reached blindly to answer it, without looking at the screen.
“What?” she croaked, eyes still closed.
“Did I wake you?” There was evident amusement in Guy's voice when he spoke.
“What do you think?”
“I'm outside your apartment. Where are you? I've been ringing the buzzer for two minutes.”
“I'm out of town.”
“Okay, where?”
“Out of town.”
There was a brief silence before Guy continued, “You haven't been kidnapped or anything, have you?”
“Guy, I'm fine,” she said impatiently. “I just needed to get away. I'll be back in a week. Were you calling for anything in particular, because I'd really like to get back to sleep?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Everything ran smoothly last night.”
It took a moment for it to register, for her to realize he was referring to the sale of the container to the Armenians.
“So we're finally free of that burden? Wow.” It sort of felt anticlimactic to her. For months they'd been trying to get rid of the guns, and for months they'd come up trumps. Now that it was over, however, it didn't feel nearly as good as she thought it would. This she attributed to her discontent over selling to – settling for – the Armenians. They wouldn't have been her first, or last, choice of buyer; but now it was over.
“Trent's been strutting around like the sun shines out of his ass, just because he pulled this off,” Guy continued.
“Trent's been walking around like that since we were kids. Nothing's changed.”
“He wants me to put pressure on you to make a move against... our little Italian friend.”
“I'll move when I want to, not when Trent decides. You tell our barbaric brother that from me.”
Once the call had ended, Willa found she couldn't get back to sleep, and cursed Guy for disturbing her. Since being passed the title, her nights had been less than peaceful – restless – resulting in days plagued with fatigue. Coffee had become her best friend. Thus, whenever she could get the sleep, she welcomed it.
Nevertheless, she remained in bed, watching bad TV and eating yoghurt and potato chips. Her trainer would have a lot of work to do when she returned to Miami. She did that for three days, fully aware that she was stalling. The TV, the lonely walks around town window shopping, the short drives down to the river... None of this gave her the joy she craved. It was all a placeholder for the one thing she really wanted to do, the one thing she was most afraid of.
She stared at the digits of Layke's number for the seventh time since arriving at the motel, her hand shaking slightly, tellingly
. Pressing the call button presented no physical challenge; but mentally, she might as well have been trying to perform telekinesis.
A phone call. A stupid phone call to someone who was expecting, perhaps even looking forward to, her call. A phone call that she knew would change her life forever. Was she ready for that yet? Was Layke? Putting off the call hadn't been her intention, in the beginning. Now that she was here, however, she was afraid. Anxious. Her nerves made her heart thud louder, more aggressively than usual. This was all new to her, spending real time alone with a woman. Away from her family and Layke's job, away from anything that reminded them of the risks they were taking. For three days her nerves got the better of her. And then, finally, tedium took over...
Layke pulled into the parking lot of the Sleep Treat Motel and cut the engine, sighing with relief for managing to find the place. What should have been a three-hour drive had taken five. She should have factored in her inability to read road maps into the estimated drive time. She'd been meaning to get a GPS but had become overwhelmed by the choices.
It took only a few seconds for her relief to vanish and hesitancy to kick in, when she peeked out and observed the little establishment. It had a dated, foreboding, Bates Motel look to it, like an establishing shot for a horror movie. Not exactly the type of place that good romantic retreats were made of. Did she have the right address? Silently she hoped she'd gotten it wrong, that there was a luxury five-star hotel hidden behind this hovel. But she spotted the blue convertible and knew she was in the right place.
She grabbed her holdall from the trunk, locked up then headed up the rickety staircase to the second floor. The five beside the three on the door was hanging on its side. She knocked tentatively and waited. She opened her mouth to say hello when Willa appeared, but was pulled into a kiss that made her drop her bag. The embrace lasted several wonderful seconds, until they both had to come up for air. A cheeky smirk played on Willa's lips.
