by Heidi Lowe
Velazquez gawped at her. “When did this happen?”
Layke shrugged, attempting to play it down. “I don't know, a couple of months ago maybe.”
“And you didn't think to tell me sooner?” Velazquez shook her head, pretending to be aggrieved. “I thought we were friends.”
“I haven't told anyone, just my parents.”
“So that's why you haven't been wearing your engagement ring.”
“Even when we were together I didn't wear it often.” Now that she no longer possessed it, having returned it to Dustin, who reluctantly accepted it back, she couldn't help but miss it. After all, diamonds were a girl's best friend, even if they came from a man she wasn't in love with. It truly was a lovely ring, but she didn't deserve it. “What the hell am I going to do with this now, Layke?” Dustin had asked when she placed it in his hand as he was leaving with his things. “I can't exactly give it to another woman, can I?” No, he couldn't, but she couldn't keep it.
“You've already moved on? Dios mio, Layke, you didn't waste any time.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Uh, creepy smile, remember? Someone's definitely hitting that.”
Layke chortled. “What is it with people being crude today?” Between Willa, Corman and now Velazquez, she was beginning to think the concept of decency had gone the way of the dodo.
“So, who is he? Does he at least have a name I won't forget?”
Willa di Blasio wasn't a name any of her colleagues would ever forget, she imagined. The thought amused her almost as much as it depressed her.
“It's early days, I don't want to jinx it.”
“Maldita puta!” Velazquez mumbled.
“You do remember I understand a bit of Spanish, don't you?” Layke laughed.
“I remember.”
Somehow being insulted in Spanish just didn't have the same effect that the English words did; though her inability to be offended by her friend's words came more from the fact that she meant them in jest. Layke suspected, however, that had Velazquez known the truth about who she was really sharing her bed with, the person who was causing her to smile like an idiot every day, she would have a million more Spanish curses for her.
Her intention, when she'd stormed from the restaurant some months back, had been to never return. Not that she had anything against Armenian cuisine, it was just that this particular establishment belonged to a most unsavory character she had hoped never to deal with again. But a lot had happened since then; people had been killed, promising new partnerships thwarted. They'd all made the best they could of an awful situation.
Here she found herself again, surrounded by the antiquated furniture (which appeared to have been imported from a pre-1940s Armenia) and a strong, mouth-watering scent wafting out of the kitchen, into a seating area that, once again, had no paying customers. Willa's inference was that paying customers were a scarcity, if not non-existent. She knew this was no more a viable business than the rug shop where they stashed their guns.
“You know I hate being kept in the dark,” Trent said through clenched teeth, eyes little slits of hatred. They were sitting in the exact same spot, in the exact same formation – Trent, Willa and Guy – that they had before, and just as he had the first time, Bedrosian was keeping them waiting. So far five minutes had passed since their arrival, and still no sign of him. Lateness, as Willa well knew, was a power play. If she didn't already have a thousand reasons to see this through, Bedrosian's tardiness would have undoubtedly convinced her that she was doing the right thing. It just illustrated the power imbalance, one her father had spent decades building to work in their favor, against people like this. In just a short space of time the power had shifted to Yeznik Bedrosian.
“Since when do I have to run anything by you?”
“Since I set this whole thing up. And since he made it very clear he didn't want to deal with you again.”
Willa smiled to herself. “He won't have to worry about that much longer.”
Trent regarded her with the venom of a thousand vipers, though his efforts to try and unnerve her were proving futile. Her mind had been made up for five days, since her talk with Layke. She had never been more resolved to see something through than she was now. The nature of the impromptu sit down she'd requested with Bedrosian had been kept secret from her team; that she wasn't proud of, though it had been necessary. They could all hate her once the deed was done, but she couldn't risk any of them finding out beforehand and jeopardizing everything.
Guy watched her carefully. “I hope you know what you're doing, Willa.”
She looked at him, and in his eyes she could see that he already knew what she was about to do. He always knew, somehow. There was always one sibling that could look right through you and see what was in your heart without you breathing a word to them.
She didn't get to assure him of her certainty, because a slick, suited Bedrosian appeared from the backroom and strutted towards their table.
“Apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said, giving a little bow of his head before settling into the chair opposite them. His black eyes were playfully mischievous as they settled on Willa. “Miss di Blasio, always a pleasure.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she fired back. There was just something about the guy that got her back up, made her forget her manners and turn up her abrasiveness dial to its maximum setting.
He laughed easily. “Nothing has changed since our last meeting, I see. I thought we were friends now, since I have made you a lot of money.”
“I have enough friends, thanks, I don't need any more.” She offered him her falsest smile. “While we're on the subject of our business arrangement, I wanted to inform you that there will be some changes.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Oh?”
Willa nodded. “Yeah. You see, I'll be taking my business in a new direction from now on, a, how do you say, less illicit one.” Now her smile was real, though it wasn't out of friendliness, it was out of triumphant spite as she watched the smirk vanish from Bedrosian's face. “You understand what I'm saying?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Willa, what the hell is this?” Trent demanded, panic in his voice along with rage.
She ignored him, focused only ahead at their soon to be ex-business partner. “We're terminating our arrangement, getting out of the gun trade for good.”
“What?” Trent shot up from his seat. “This better be a joke, Willa–”
“Oh, sit down!” She waved a disinterested hand at her brother. “It was always Dad's plan to get out eventually. The cancer got to him first. But it was always his plan.”
“That's bullshit! He would never have signed off on something like this. The business wouldn't survive.”
“Well it's going to have to, because we're out. You might enjoy always looking over your shoulder, but I don't. I also don't want our family name to forever be synonymous with crime.”
“You stupid bitch!” Trent spat. “You don't know what the hell you're talking about, and you're going to destroy everything this family has built while you were off enjoying that dirty money you hate so much, the money that funded your fancy little degree.”
“I'm not having this conversation with you here,” she said levelly.
“Oh, please do, this is like watching my children squabbling over who gets to watch the television,” Bedrosian said. The playful note in his voice wasn't real, and acted as a mask for something sinister. They all heard it.
“Don't listen to her, Yeznik. She stands alone in this.” Trent turned back to Willa. “Do you really think anyone will support you if it means taking money out of their pockets and food off their plates?” He laughed maniacally.
“Well she has at least one supporter.”
Trent and Willa both turned in unison to look at Guy, always so calm and collected, happy to stay out of disputes, remain unbiased and objective. Willa smiled. She had never loved him more than she loved him then.
“Then you're just as pathetic as she is.”
“Enough.” Bedrosian raised his hand, instantly silencing the whole table. “You obviously have some things you need to talk about as a family, so why don't you take a couple of days to rethink, regroup, whatever it is you need to do, then come back with a new attitude.”
“We don't need a couple of days, and we don't need to rethink anything. It's over. I hope you find another supplier soon.” She got up to leave, and Guy got up with her. Then she added with a laugh, “Who am I kidding? I don't care either way.”
“You know it isn't as simple as that?” Bedrosian called after her.
“Actually it is,” she called right back, gave him one final smile before exiting the building.
Two knocks in quick succession, done three times – Layke knew Willa's distinct way of knocking on her door. “Like a heartbeat racing. Sort of what happens when I'm with you,” Willa had said about it when she'd made it. She used it every time, having put her days of breaking and entering behind her, now that she would always be welcome.
Layke had just stepped out of the shower when she heard the knocks. She expected to be greeted with a kiss before the hello – as they were now accustomed to doing – not to be pounced on and lifted off the floor by her ravenous lover.
“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling as Willa kicked the door shut and carried her into the bedroom. Her face was being plastered with kisses.
“I did it. It's over,” Willa declared, throwing her onto the bed, her loosely tied bathrobe flying open and revealing her naked body, droplets of water still clinging to it.
“Did what?”
Willa climbed on top of her fully clothed, and kissed her several times before she was able to elaborate. “I got out. No more guns.”
Layke blinked back at her, dumbfounded. Of course they'd spoken about it, but she never imagined it would happen so quickly. “For real?”
Willa nodded, her smile huge and white. “For real.”
“Oh my God.” She let out a little scream of joy. “Oh my God.” It deserved a kiss, and another, and another, which she planted on her lips each time. “You're amazing.”
“I hope this doesn't mean you lose interest, you know, now that I'm no longer a bad girl.”
“On the contrary. You've never looked sexier than you do now. Being legit really suits you.” She kissed her on the nose. “And you know what else suits you?” she asked mischievously.
“What?”
“Being buck naked.” Layke had already begun to work Willa's T-shirt up over her head.
Willa gave a smoky laugh. “I'm filthy. Are you sure you want my dirty body all over your clean one?”
“Quite sure,” Layke whispered, her voice sensual, brimming with sexual energy. It was a time for celebration, and she couldn't think of a better way to do that than making love to her stunning girlfriend, who had given up so much for her.
TWENTY-THREE
There were things they didn't speak about, things they couldn't bear to approach, as if by doing so the illusion in which they lived would evaporate. They were still so new, the relationship still in its infancy. No one wanted to be the person to ruin it so early on with a little thing like the truth. The truth that even without the unlawful undertakings associated with Willa's name, there was still the name itself that made her untouchable. And despite the fact that Layke had gone to bat for Willa, risking her career in order to keep her out of jail for Ambrisi's murder, to the di Blasio clan she would forever be a cop – an eternal enemy. Layke's father would never accept Willa, and Willa's family would never accept Layke. That the two women had found a way to accept each other, in spite of all of this, was remarkable.
Layke caught the florist just in time, before she shut up shop for the evening. She'd left work and driven like a mad woman in order to make it. Tonight she would give Willa a key. Dustin's old one – to be used whenever she wanted, as often as she wanted, not just in emergencies.
“I was just about to close up,” the florist said, a white-haired lady of about seventy, with a friendly face and a graceful shuffle of a walk. She cut the dozen roses and prepared them for Layke.
“I know. I'm glad I caught you.”
“Someone special waiting for you at home?”
Layke nodded, then smiled brightly at the thought. Tonight she would spend the night at Willa's place, which was always risky owing to the amount of people who stopped by unannounced. But she welcomed the change of scenery.
Layke went to pay but the lady shook her head. “On the house.”
“I couldn't.”
“Sure you can.” She smiled.
There was probably some stupid law against her accepting anything on the house, due to her profession, but she figured turning the gesture down would have been impolite. So she thanked the lady, took her roses and left. As she walked to her car, a man stepped out of the back seat of the black Bentley parked behind her. He had the type of rugged look and strut of someone with a lot of influence but very little modesty.
“Nice roses,” he said. “You're going to make someone smile tonight.”
“That's the plan.” She didn't intend to stop and make smalltalk with this stranger.
“You're a friend of Willa's, no?” he said to her before she could climb into her car.
Her heart stopped. She looked at him warily. “Who's asking?”
He offered her a cheeky smile. “A friend of Willa's.”
“Excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” Layke said, trying to put as much distance between her and this man as she could, sensing that his presence didn't mean anything positive. She couldn't make out his accent; foreign was the best guess she had.
“Of course. If you do see Willa, tell her her friend from Armenia says hi.”
A sense of doom washed over her as she watched the man jump back into his car and depart. He'd seen her badge, she was certain of it. Whoever he was he wasn't on her side of the law. A shiver ran down her spine.
Show no fear or weakness. He's like a dog – he'll smell it on you. Willa swallowed back her mounting trepidation as she tried to give herself a pep talk. In reality the talk was useless. He had her right where he wanted her. She wondered how long he'd been watching them, how long he'd known about Layke. It must have begun after she ended their agreement. Almost two weeks. They'd been followed for almost two weeks and neither of them had noticed. Love had made them careless, less vigilant than they once were. There was always a downside to it.
She got to the end of the street and saw the black Bentley. The back door opened as soon as she appeared. Cautiously she stepped inside.
“I'm hoping you have a better attitude now. Third time lucky, maybe?” Bedrosian said, as self-satisfied and slimy as he always was.
“What do you want?”
“It makes sense now why you said you would never have a husband. A lot of things make a lot of sense now.”
“I said what do you want?” This time her teeth were even more clenched, her tone even more acrid, murderous.
“Nothing unreasonable. Just what we agreed on before.”
Willa shook her head. “We're out of that business. I told you.”
“And I told you it doesn't work like that!” In the blink of an eye his whole persona changed, as though he had been replaced by his evil, long-lost twin. His black eyes were hard and callous, his voice monstrous, making her jump out of her skin. A psycho with a good-looking face. She'd known there was something off about him from the word go. “I own you. People don't terminate arrangements with me, I'm the only one who terminates anything.”
The ball in her throat wouldn't budge no matter how hard she swallowed. She was sitting in a car with a madman who could have snapped her neck with one hand, judging by the size of his hands and arms. She didn't think that ball would ever move.
And as if by magic, the maniacal side vanished, once more replaced by the less psychotic Yeznik Bedrosian that she knew and despised. A man
with two-faces, both of them despicable.
“Tell me, what would your family think if they knew that the redhead whore you share your bed with is a cop? And what would her cop friends say if they knew all the dirty things she was doing with you?” He grinned. “Now my men and I, we think it's beautiful, two women... What's not to like, huh? But not everyone will think like us. And these things have a way of getting out. Then again, people also have a way of disappearing... It's really your choice.”
The disgust she felt manifested itself in a scowl that she shot Bedrosian's way. “You leave her out of this. Your beef is with me.”
“My beef, as you say, is with the person who is preventing me from making money.”
“Look, fine, whatever. We'll do what you want. Just leave Layke alone.”
Bedrosian chuckled. “I knew I could get you to change your mind.” She went to step out of the car but felt his hand restrain her by the wrist. “I didn't say you could leave.”
Her heart sank despite the fact that she'd anticipated this – the price rising. When Layke had told her about the encounter outside the flower shop, and she'd eventually called to arrange a meeting with him, she'd known his demands would be high. With a man like Yeznik Bedrosian, you could almost guarantee that the cost of doing business with him would skyrocket once he had you in his palms.
“I have a shipment arriving in a couple of days that I'll need to store somewhere until my men can find a more suitable, permanent location for it.”
“What sort of shipment?” She didn't like the sound of this at all.
“You don't need to know any of that. What you do need to know is that it's very valuable. If anything were to happen to it I'd...” He buttoned his jacket for effect. “Well, let's hope you never have to find out.”
