“She never talked,” Luther said, calm and low. “She did time just like a lot of my men. Just like anyone would.”
“That’s not the common consensus, Luther—”
“It’s not her fault she went down. A lot of people did. I’d be away for life had I not faked my death.”
“How did you pull that off, anyway?” Feinstein asked.
Luther ran a finger around the rim of his tumbler.
“Easier than it appears when you have the right people on your payroll. But I wouldn’t share those particular skills with you, my friend.”
Feinstein laughed. “Look, Kavka, I've got no quarrel with the girl. She was a force, damn good at her job. But she was always…reckless. Didn’t take things as seriously as she needed to.”
The suggestion tickled Luther’s lips until he nearly smiled. “You only say that because you were all afraid of her.”
“I just want to make sure all the loose ends are tied up.”
Luther slammed his hand on the table and leaned forward. “You don't think that I can tie up my own loose ends? Leave Nina out of this.”
Feinstein tilted his head and studied Luther. “I have no doubts my friend. But when you disappear for six years and we don't hear a word from you, it's hard to know what's been going on.”
“I don't see you taking your business elsewhere,” Luther said.
Feinstein laughed. “No, you don't. Why would we? Our operation is a well-oiled machine. The money just keeps coming in, everything works as it should, nobody's here to make demands or ask questions. We couldn't have a better system. The last six years have been golden.”
Luther nodded curtly. “Good. How would you like to keep it that way?”
“You have me as a partner, Luther. We’re not going anywhere unless you say otherwise.”
Luther threw back the rest of the whiskey. He rubbed his jaw gently, feeling the stubble starting to poke through.
“Then just keep things going as they should. We have a beautiful partnership here. There’s no need to worry about any outside influences. Nothing is going to disrupt our well-oiled machine, as you call it.”
Feinstein swirled the ice in his glass and shook his head in amusement.
“You are a very convincing man, Luther. Do you know that?”
“It’s why I am where I am.”
“Just make sure she don’t talk. We wouldn’t want things to get…unpleasant.”
“Don’t worry about Nina. She’s not stupid.”
Feinstein smiled thinly and raised his glass.
“We’re all glad to have you back. Let’s hope you don’t disappear again.”
Luther raised his glass as well. “I am quite here to stay, never you worry.”
Chapter 18
The moment Nina learned the harsh truth of the world would forever be branded into her mind. Every boundary she’d pushed, every cigarette she'd smoked, every boy she’d kissed—they were all just kids’ games. She’d never really suffered, never truly been abandoned or in pain. The problems she so desperately longed to free from—though very real through the lens of a pissed off teenager—were first world problems at their finest.
She had thought herself untouchable. Thought herself above the tribulations of others. She belonged to Luther, and that had to mean something. That was powerful, that was ammunition, an impregnable defense. But what she didn't realize, was that protection was also a weakness. While Luther's men would sooner cut out their own eyeballs than lay a hand on her, Luther's enemies were all too eager to exact revenge through her. The ruthlessness of their world knew no limitations. They had waited for her patiently, snapping her away into the shadows while her guard was down. They hadn’t tried to hide who they were. They were there to send a message.
When she returned to that dark room in her fitful nightmares, she didn’t remember the physical sensations anymore. She had disconnected from her body, gone somewhere else. She didn’t even know if it was one man or three. She’d stopped trying to remember long ago.
She shouldn’t have been surprised; men had been raping women in war since the dawn of humanity. And she didn't know what was worse, surviving the rape itself, or having to crawl back home to Luther, bloodied and bruised, broken. Maybe the worst part was watching Luther torture one of the men who did it. She still felt the sick twisted sensation in her gut of wanting the man to suffer, wanting to violate his body with any and every instrument available. But as angry and ashamed as she was, there was a part of her that knew that she didn't want to meet violence with more violence. In the end, Luther's revenge on him only broke her further. She still heard his blood-curdling screams in her dreams. The shrill screams of agony, the rotten scent of flesh being flayed from bone.
That was the day that she realized that true evil existed in the world. And that she was sharing his bed.
Some days Nina didn’t know if she really existed. Perhaps she was only the shadow of a made-up persona—concocted in a penthouse apartment with Luther, too high to know reality from subconscious dreams.
There was a skill in knowing yourself. So few people really did. So few people really wanted to. Because truly knowing yourself required digging your fingers into your own chest, grasping your heart and pulling it out while it was still beating. No one in their right mind would voluntarily put themselves through that experience—no more than someone would choose to be born.
Nina. The Cat. Would she ever be free of it?
“Those eyes. Terrifying to look at,” Luther had said. “Like mirrors, one could get lost in them, uncertain of the truth of their own reflection.”
The strange persona had served her well during her time in the organization, and although it was not a luxury she could afford, the memory of who she was then haunted her. Nina the Cat had been just as much the Devil’s plaything.
Sher now stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, taking a break in the fresh air, as the sun did its final lap around the sky. The colors splashed across the sky in vibrant watercolors. Turquoise and cerulean and sharp rays of golden sun. It was not a subtle experience. It came at you, full force, demanding to be seen and heard. The peaks of the Sierra Nevadas clung to fluffy white snow, their refusal to relinquish their winter glory. After a moment, the sun began its leisurely descent into the horizon’s cradle beyond, languidly bidding farewell to the day, tranquil after a hard day’s work. Twilight broke in a cast of violet and silver dancing across the lake.
The scent of sharp pine was an ever-present ambiance to her sleepy village. It was a place to forget about the world. It was a place people came to from all over the world to forget about reality. It was why they all stayed there despite knowing the truth of its underbelly.
She lamented the life that could have been here. But with everything mounting, that dream was rapidly slipping into oblivion.
The day she had returned home from prison, walked into the basement of the rundown shed she’d purchased on the sly, and dug up the money was one of the most terrifying days of her life. Every sound made her jump, her teeth clenched so hard that her jaw was sore the next day. She was terrified someone was going to find out, take it all away, send her back inside. She closed her eyes and she lifted the floorboard, not wanting to see the vacant space where the money should have been. She breathed and let her eyes slowly peel open, and nearly fainted with relief to see the canvas bag still there, bulging with the weight of its illegal contraband.
She carefully unzipped it to reveal the stacks of money she’d been hoarding in the months prior to her arrest. She exhaled slowly as she processed what it meant. She was going to be ok.
Nina sighed and stepped back into the restaurant. She needed to close out the books and then she was heading home to a hot shower and a glass of good wine.
Beck knew he should just go home. Go home, take a hot shower, crack a beer and read a book. Take his mind off the case for a few minutes, clear his head. But instead, he found himself p
arked outside the Black Cat restaurant, watching Nina through the window like a goddamn stalker. This might be a new low. He might be losing his mind.
He couldn’t explain it, but this strange protectiveness was festering inside him. He always had a sense of responsibility for every asset of course, but this was different. There was something deeper here, a magnetic force keeping his attention locked on Nina Sullivan. Maybe Martinez was right, maybe she was just a manipulative siren, luring him to his imminent demise.
It wasn’t like him to fall for the manipulative type. His last serious girlfriend had been a doormat more than anything. Poor helpless Debbie. Always looking for a man to save her. Always trying to play the demure princess in the tower. He didn't care half as much about what Debbie did or her safety as he did about every move that Nina made. But Nina was more than capable of taking care of herself. In fact, Nina was more capable than he was.
If he knew what was good for him, he’d find himself another Debbie. Safe, predictable, needy enough to just play along with all his quirks. But where was the fun in that? Debbies got painfully boring after a time.
It wasn't just his strange attraction to Nina that had him parked across from her restaurant though. Beck couldn't put a finger on what was bothering him, but there was something out of alignment. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit his stomach, like he knew he'd eaten something wrong and he was just waiting around for the symptoms to kick in.
Finally the lights went off inside. A few minutes later, a Harley Sportster crept out from the back parking lot and slowly moved into the dark street.
Like a concerned parent, his stomach tightened to see her ride off.
Was that helmet regulation? It looked a little small. Was she wearing it tight enough around her small throat? Did she have enough protective gear? Beck shook his head. What the hell is wrong with you, Graham?
Beck watched Nina disappear into the moonlight and tried to make peace with the cold lump in his belly. He wasn't sure why, but he knew he had to follow her.
Nina was cruising along the chilly night, the mountain air refreshing, scrubbing her skin clean of the grease and spilled beer from the long night. There was nothing more cleansing than the harsh wind against her face at 75 miles per hour. Nothing more exhilarating than feeling one with the night, feeling the rumble of the machine between her legs. It was an almost erotic experience at times.
She’d never forget the first time she slid her legs over the back of Bradly Langsings’ chopped up baby Harley sophomore year of high school. The absolute adrenaline rush, her body pressed against his, the wind forcing their bodies together. She’d made Bradly promise to teach her how to drive it. He’d laughed and said no way a girl was driving his bike. His protest was nothing a few sexual favors couldn’t dissuade. Every moment had been worth it.
As soon as she’d turned 18 she’d bought her own.
Her body ached with exhaustion but her mind was reeling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to the silence of her house. Maybe she’d take a long night drive through the woods, clear her mind. The open road was a perfect time to spend quality time with her thoughts. Sure, there were scary men on the loose, but she wasn’t going to live a life in fear.
Over the roar of the motorcycle, she thought she heard a doubled-up engine, as if there were another bike beside her. Her skin prickled and she dared not look. She sped up a little, trying to ignore what was surely just paranoia. The mountain woods were good at playing tricks on the mind. She darted a glance into her rear view. At first, she saw nothing but darkness, the shadows dancing in and out of the moonlit path, twirling around the tall evergreens. After a moment, she realized another bike was creeping up on her trail.
She was being followed.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
She released the throttle and moved faster, ducking right at the next fork, onto a road that would take her deeper into the woods and away from town. It would be a hell of a lot easier to lose them in the dark woods than it would in the stop-and-go traffic of the Village. Whoever this ass hole was, she had to know these woods better than he did. She stepped on the gas and let it rip down the path. She darted in and out of trees, twisting around the path, driving away from her house.
Nina heard the roar of another bike joining in the fray. Shit. Now she was outnumbered. She spared a glance in her rearview and she almost fell over with what she saw. She recognized that bike. She recognized the helmet. Holy hell, that was Beck. What the hell was he doing there? Had he followed her? The guy just doesn't take a hint. She nearly laughed but then the seriousness of the situation sunk in. Beck was putting his life on the line here and she couldn't let them do that. He had no idea the kind of guys they were dealing with and he was going to get himself killed with this chivalrous shit.
The motorcycle chasing her gained on her. He cut around her right, cutting in front of her. Gravel and dirt flew up from the ground hitting her in the face. She gave a sharp turn and dodged out of his way. Beck came around the other side, flanking the assailant.
She waved Beck away, but he wasn’t backing down. Nina took a breath. “You goddamn idiot,” she shouted in vain over the roar of three bike engines.
Fine, they could work together on this. Hopefully Graham could keep up.
She went full throttle, and circled back, forcing her chaser to skid and make a sharp turn. Beck took the cue and flanked his other side.
Then she heard a gunshot and nearly lost control. Was that the assailant or Beck? She glanced in the rearview and saw the attacker with his pistol pointed back. Momentarily, Beck returned fire.
Nina ducked her head down to avoid crossfire as the two men battled it out. Finally, without warning, the assailant sped up and fled. The bike sped off behind a thicket of trees. Nina watched him disappear into the night, then slowed and sighed with relief. Her pulse thrummed against her flush skin. Beck pulled up beside her. She moved to pull into the small clearing off the road up ahead and came to a stop. Beck followed.
He took off his helmet, the bike engine still purring beneath his legs. His steely eyes were wide, glinting in the moonlight.
“Christ, Nina, are you ok?” Beck said.
“Yeah, I’m fi—”.
Without warning, a bike came blazing from the trees, heading right toward her. Nina didn’t have a second to think, her instincts paralyzed. In a flash, Beck’s bike sped forward, crashing into the assailant. The body went flying through the woods, hurtling into a pile of heavy rocks. Nina winced as a heavy thud resonated through the quiet woods.
She jumped from her bike, threw off her helmet and ran toward Beck, who was lying face down in the dirt.
“Beck!” She dropped down beside him and turned him over. She shook his unconscious body but he was unresponsive. “Beck! Fucking wake up, you asshole!”
She snapped her head up and scanned the scene. She spotted the attacker’s body in the near distance. She didn’t dare go over to check his status.
“C’mon, Beck, wake up. You’re ok.”
Finally, Beck groaned and his body shifted. Nina exhaled and fell back on her heels.
“Fuck,” she whispered, wiping away a tear.
Beck pushed himself up. He blinked a few times and rubbed the back of his head.
“You ok?” Beck said.
Nina laughed, nearly crying. “I’m fine. You’re the one with the likely concussion.”
He grunted back up at her.
“Is anything broken?” Nina said.
“I think everything,” Beck said. He laughed slightly, but it came out as more of a grimace.
“Come on get up,” Nina said. She hoisted her arms under his and started to pull.
“I can do it,” Beck said.
“Don't be such a baby. Get on my bike. We’re not far from my house. We need to get you looked at, call an ambulance or something.”
“My bike—”
“You’re in no condition to ride.”
“Where’s the guy?” Beck stood and looked around.
“He’s right over the—” Nina’s heart clenched when her eyes landed on the now vacant space where the body had been. “Oh god.”
“Let’s get out of here. We can call the police from your place,” Beck said.
“Ok, be careful. Hold on,” Nina said as Beck slid on the bike behind her.
“Guess what, Nina? I've been on a motorcycle before.”
Nina snorted. “Glad your sense of humor is intact. But still hold on. You might have a concussion that will affect your hand-eye coordination. Just try to stay on the bike.”
Every instinct told her to put it at full throttle, but she kept at a steady pace as she weaved through the woods back toward her house. The last thing she needed was for Beck to fall off and bust his head on a rock.
Chapter 19
They pulled up to Nina’s house and she helped Beck off the bike.
“Can you please stop fussing. I’m not broken,” Beck said.
She laughed but he didn’t take his arm off her shoulder.
She settled him on the couch, then retrieved an ice pack from the freezer.
She pressed it to his head then placed his own hand over it. “Press this here. See if we can't reduce the swelling.”
“Thanks,” Beck said. He winced as he touched ice to his head.
Nina fell to the couch and exhaled. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“A ‘thank you’ might be in order. I did kind of save your life,” Beck said.
“Thanks. But let’s not exaggerate, shall we? And I don’t need saving.”
“You know you don't have to always be a steel rod all the time. A one-woman impenetrable fortress.”
“And you don't always have to be so fucking melodramatic. I know you really want to be the knight in shining armor here, but I don't need one. You could have been killed.”
“So could you.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Nina, you have to stop pretending that this isn’t serious. That your life isn’t in danger.”
The Redemption Lie Page 13
