The Diary

by Julia Derek

  But I wasn’t; it was all true. Something so horrible could indeed be true.

  Nick was dead. Oh, God, my husband was dead…

  When I accepted this fact at last, I went back to my catatonic state, unable to feel a thing. I didn’t dare letting myself feel anything. If I did, I didn’t think I would be able to ever again stop crying. So I made myself become a robot in order to function. It was the only way to control the pain in my body that was threatening to tear me apart from the inside. I needed to find out not only who had done this to Nick, but when I had, I needed to make them pay for it.

  Make them suffer the way they had made Nick suffer.

  Judging from the words carved directly into my husband’s wide, naked back, I had my idea who was behind it all:

  Rats always get what they deserve.

  It must have something to do with the Cardoza cartel Nick and I had been instrumental in bringing down three years ago. My husband had spent more than five years undercover in this cartel, ending up becoming one of the notorious drug lord Felipe Cardoza’s most trusted men, while I had gone undercover at the fancy New York health club where Cardoza had been a member. The idea had been for me to become Cardoza’s trainer and thereby get the information needed to once and for all destroy his powerful cartel. Nick’s involvement hadn’t been enough.

  I did eventually become his trainer and I did get the information needed to take down the Mexican who pretended to make his living solely through real estate developments. Nick’s undercover work had still been crucial to make this happen, so Cardoza’s fall wasn’t only due to my efforts.

  Nick and I had known each other while working this case, but neither of us had been aware of the other’s true purpose. It had been the best of times and the worst of times for both of us as we had slowly but surely fallen in love. I kept worrying about getting too close to the enemy on my first major case; he about involving an innocent girl in his sordid life with Cardoza.

  It hadn’t been easy knowing that I, in the process of bringing down Cardoza, would also put the man I loved in jail for the rest of his life. Then, right as I found out that Nick was just another undercover cop, he was shot to death in a very public fashion during our sting operation.

  It turned out that Nick’s death had been staged in an effort to protect his true identity. If everyone including other cops thought that Nick—or Paul Medina as he had called himself while undercover—had died, he wouldn’t have to go into the Witness Protection Program and instead was free to do whatever he wanted. Well, more or less. He still needed to disappear to a place faraway or people would soon realize he wasn’t really dead. His boss at the NYPD wanted him to go somewhere no one would ever suspect him of going—like moving to Los Angeles, a city everyone who’d known Nick knew he detested. So that was the perfect place for him to relocate to. The fact that I was from L.A. was a major reason he had chosen to go there and start working for the LAPD as a detective, I later found out. He had loved me as much as I had loved him all along, so how could he not?

  My own return back to my real identity had been much smoother. In preparation for my undercover assignment, I had gone from a wavy-haired, brunette Latina with chocolate brown eyes to a platinum-blonde, straight-haired Swede with blue eyes. The very different hair and eyes combined with the fake Swedish accent I’d learned to speak with made me appear radically different. Being a light-skinned Latina helped to convince people I was of Nordic descent.

  Nick and I reconnected in L.A. soon after my return from New York and got married a few months later. We had spent the last couple of years blissfully happy and never worried very much that anyone would find out about us and take revenge. The more time that passed, the less we thought about it, though of course we were always careful, not taking any unnecessary risks and always carrying our guns on us. Even when we slept, we kept them nearby.

  Armed or not, we’d felt confident we were safe from any retributions on Cardoza’s part.

  Now it certainly looked like we had been wrong to jump to this conclusion.

  Judging not only from the bloody words on Nick’s body but from the sheer methods used to kill him, it spoke strongly of someone from the Cardoza cartel being involved. They were big on torture. The white cloth stuffed into Nick’s mouth kept in place with a rope tied around his head combined with the loud rock music had allowed them to do it without drawing attention from our neighbors. Cardoza himself was in prison and would remain so for the rest of his life, but he had plenty of relatives and business connections who would be happy to avenge him, either of their own accord or if he gave the word. Both scenarios would require the perpetrators knowing of at least Nick’s existence in Los Angeles. Because I was still alive, I didn’t think they had figured out who I was. If they had wanted to see us both dead, it would have been much smarter to take care of me at the same time as Nick.

  After taking a shower and having a quick bite—not because I was hungry, only because my body needed nourishment in order to function so I forced myself—I went down to the station. There, I waited until Captain Brady arrived for the day. It was only five in the morning, but I was well aware that my boss liked to come in at the crack of dawn, so I wouldn’t have to wait for long.

  I was correct; he arrived only forty-five minutes later upon which I told him about my suspicions regarding Nick’s murder.

  “I agree it looks like it’s connected to the Cardoza cartel,” Brady said after having gotten over the initial surprise of finding me seated in his dark office; I’d blurted out my thoughts without greeting him first. Switching on the light, the graying man gazed at me kindly. “How are you holding up? What are you doing here so early in the morning? After what happened, you shouldn’t be at work.”

  “I want to be part of the investigation into his death,” I said with determination, ignoring Brady’s concerned questions.

  Brady sighed and removed his coat, hung it over his desk chair. “You know that’s not possible, Longoria. I can understand how much you want to and you’re a great cop, but the fact of the matter is that you’re too close to the victim. It’s impossible for you to be objective.”

  I clenched my teeth and sucked in a breath to calm the fury surging through me so I wouldn’t snarl at my boss; it wouldn’t do any good. “I know that, but can’t you make an exception in this case? I had what it took the first time despite being a complete rookie. I have what it takes to take care of this situation too. You need me to find his killer.”

  “No, you need to find his killer. Again, I can completely understand why you want to be on the case, but it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Please make an exception.” I leaned toward him where he stood behind his desk and placed my hands on the table top. “I have great instincts—you told me so yourself—and inside knowledge of Cardoza. Those are two things that’ll be crucial to learn who did this to Nick.”

  “You do have great instincts and inside knowledge, but it still doesn’t matter. This is not something I can assign you to, period. It’s completely against department policy. My hands are tied, Longoria.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, if this is in fact the Cardoza cartel’s doing, you may not be safe any longer. Did you consider that?”

  “I think that if they had figured out who I was, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you right now. Why not kill both of us right away? It doesn’t make sense to kill Nick first as it puts me on high alert.”

  Brady shrugged. “It’s true that it doesn’t quite make sense, but I wouldn’t completely discount the possibility that you could be next. If I were you, I would go for a nice, long vacation somewhere and not tell anyone where you’ve gone. In fact, I insist that you go and will put you on paid leave as of today. You need to deal with what has happened. Take your time to mourn Nick. I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting.”

  I struggled not to glare at my boss, this man I respected and admired so much. But what he
was telling me was the last thing I wanted to hear. I needed to be on this case and I didn’t care if it put me in danger. I only cared about making sure whoever had done these horrible things to Nick were caught and paid the price. If it killed me in the process, so be it. I didn’t think I wanted to go on living without Nick anyway. How would I ever get over what had been done to him? How would I be able to live without him?

  But glaring at Brady would be counterproductive. I was much better off trying to use logic with him instead. So I willed my face to assume a more neutral expression.

  “Everyone mourns in their own way,” I said demurely. “For me it would not be effective to lounge on a beach somewhere. I’m a doer. You know that. The only thing that would make me feel better is to make sure the monsters who did this to my husband are caught. Please help me make that happen. I surprised everyone with my skills the first time I dealt with the Cardoza cartel and I’ll surprise everyone even more this time. I’m a stellar detective.”

  Brady exhaled and shook his head. “Longoria, for the last time, I cannot put you on this case! You need to take some time off. Go somewhere far away where no one can find you. Go climb the Himalayas. Explore Africa. I beg of you. Don’t stick around L.A. and keep trying to be part of the investigation. It won’t happen.”

  He walked up to me and grabbed my arms, gazing at me intently with his watery blue eyes. “Gabi, I don’t want to see you dead too.”

  My begging Brady was clearly not going to get me what I wanted. What I needed. Craved. Thankfully, there were other ways. I made myself give him a sad, defeated grimace.

  “Fine. I won’t.” I straightened, ran my palms over my face, and sighed. “You’re probably right in that I need to get away from here, deal with what has happened. Chasing Nick’s killer won’t fill the huge hole in my chest. Remove my pain.”

  Brady looked relieved and embraced me, patting me fatherly on the back.

  “I know how you must long for revenge, Gabi. But believe me when I tell you—it won’t make you feel any better in the long run. It’ll eat you alive. Leave this to us and we’ll take care of it for you. We’ll get the bastards who did this to Nick. We’ll make them pay.”

  “Thank you, Brady,” I mumbled into his shoulder. I took another beat and then I removed myself from him. “Can you at least promise to tell me how it’s going? If I check in with you every now and then?”

  “Of course, Longoria. Of course. Now go home and book a ticket somewhere. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and I’ll take care of your paperwork.”

  I nodded demurely. “Okay, will do. Thank you.”

  We exchanged a few more details regarding how I should go about booking my ticket using a fake name so I couldn’t be traced and so on. Then Brady gave me a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye for now.

  I smiled and said goodbye too. Then I went out to my car to contact my friend and former coworker, Dante, a successful health club owner who also happened to have significant contacts in the criminal underworld due to having been a gang member for ten years.

  If Brady wouldn’t let me be part of the investigation to find Nick’s killer, I’d have to do my own.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as I got hold of Dante, I told him I needed to see him in person. He asked me if I could swing by his gym in Malibu; he had to be there for the next few hours. I drove as quickly as I could to Cuerpos, which was the name of his boutique gym that had gotten so popular Dante already had several celebrity clients.

  Dante and I first became friendly when we worked at Crunch Fitness in West Hollywood years ago, me as a group ex instructor and he as a trainer. Both of us having roots in Colombia, we had quickly connected. I learned that he was on probation and had recently been jumped out of the Latin Devils, one of the biggest, most violent street gangs in L.A. In order to stay out of jail, he had needed to keep his job at Crunch for a year and not associate with anyone from the gang. He made it, but just barely as he spent lots of time helping his buddy Jose get jumped out of the Devils, too. Unlike Dante, who was large and a great fighter, Jose was scrawny and small. He would be squashed during the jump-out unless he learned how to fight and protect himself.

  Dante had spent months teaching Jose fighting techniques and Jose’s jump-out had been successful as well.

  Dante and Jose were as close as ever, which was great since I could really use Jose’s expertise right now. Jose’s primary business while in the gang had been to forge documents. Surely he could help me creating the fake identity I’d need to go after Nick’s killers.

  I didn’t exaggerate when I had stressed my superb instincts while pleading my case to Brady—I did have great instincts. In my first several months as a cop I hadn’t trusted them, but as time went on, I learned to do so. My instincts had often saved my ass not only as I’d gone undercover as a trainer, but especially after I returned to L.A. and was promoted to a level II detective, taking increasingly demanding cases. As of last month, I had become a level III detective.

  My instincts told me the answer to what had happened to Nick was most likely found in New York, not in L.A., and more specifically at Nikkei Sports Club, the mega health club I had worked for to target Cardoza. Both Nick and I had spent lots and lots of time at this club; Cardoza himself had spent years there. So my plan was to head to New York and see if I could be hired as a trainer at this same club once again; then I’d work my way from there, spread my search wider depending upon how things went.

  Of course, it would be much too risky going back there as Annika, the Swedish bombshell I had posed as while training Cardoza. Cardoza and his cohorts might have figured out his Swedish trainer was really an undercover agent or cop and were now looking for her. The reason I was still alive might be as simple as them not realizing this undercover cop was also Nick’s wife, Gabi Longoria. It would be like playing with fire for me to go back as Annika. I was well aware that a few of the health club members had been friendly with Cardoza and his men—probably also members and staff I hadn’t even known about. I couldn’t count on all of them having left the club, which meant it would be a matter of time before the news of Annika’s return reached the wrong ears.

  I also wanted to make it as hard as possible for Brady to discover that I had disobeyed his orders, so creating a new identity was crucial.

  I parked my blue Ford Mustang in the parking lot behind Cuerpos and walked into Dante’s gym. Almost immediately I spotted a blonde starlet doing crunches with a buff trainer in a corner and another, more famous male movie star pounding a sandbag that a trainer steadied. A couple of trainers were working with clients using free weights in the middle of the gym floor, while others were on the mats along one side of the air-conditioned studio, performing floor exercises with clients.

  I couldn’t help but smile a little. It made me happy to see how successful Dante had become. Launching Cuerpos had been a huge risk for him. Fortunately, the small business began turning a modest profit some months after opening day and my dear friend started to relax. When word got out how good Dante and his small staff of trainers were via a connected talent agent, Cuerpos had exploded and suddenly everyone wanted to work out there. Dante had been smart and chosen to keep his gym exclusive by not accepting every client and thereby being able to keep his prices higher.

  He was standing behind the small reception desk, typing on his smartphone. Wearing a sleeveless, white T-shirt, his big, muscular arms and shoulders were on full display, revealing several tattoos on smooth olive skin, most of them memories from his days as a gangbanger. He kept blowing at his long, black curls that fell into his eyes as he gazed down at his phone.

  I put my hands against the top of the high reception desk and peered up at him. When he didn’t notice me and just kept typing, I said, “Oye, hombre!” Hey, man in Spanish.

  He removed his gaze from his screen. “Gabi. Hey.”

  With a face that had turned dark, he put down the phone and came around the counter. He took me in his arms
and held me tight.

  “I’m so, so sorry, Gabriella,” he mumbled into my hair. “I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it when I heard. I went over to your house and found out from Brady that you were at your parents, so I went there to see how you were doin’.”

  “Yeah, I know. My mom told me you’d come by. Thank you.”

  He kissed me on the cheek and let go of me. “That was the least I could do.” Holding on to my shoulders, he took me in with concerned eyes that were as black as his locks. “How are you, chica? You gonna make it?”

  The soft tone of Dante’s voice and the way he was contemplating me, with so much compassion and fury, made my throat hurt and tears burn the insides of my eyelids. It surprised me and infuriated me at the same time. I didn’t have time to be upset. I couldn’t allow myself to get upset. I needed to focus, find Nick’s killers. I inhaled quietly and the sorrow retreated.

  “I’m okay,” I replied firmly. “And I’ll be even better after you and Jose help me with what I need.”

  Instantly catching on to my state of mind, Dante swung an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go outside and talk.”

  We walked out and sat on a green-painted wooden bench next to the boutique gym’s entrance. Dante turned to me. “Dime.” Tell me. “Anything you need, you know I’ll take care of it. I’d be happy to kill los hijos de puta who did this to Nick. You just give me the word and I’ll make sure they’ll be begging for mercy.”

  I smiled and squeezed his knee. “I know. Gracias.” Then I leaned closer and said in a low voice, “I’m not allowed to be on the team investigating Nick’s murder, so I’ve decided to do my own. I’ll leave for New York as soon as Nick’s buried to try to get a job at Nikkei as a trainer. It looks like Cardoza or someone tied to him is behind his death, having figured out he was an undercover cop and still alive. I think being at Nikkei will help me find out how this happened. But I realize I can’t discount the fact that Cardoza also has figured out his Swedish trainer was involved in his takedown, which is why I need to come up with a new identity. Brady will think that I’m going for a nice, very long paid vacation somewhere faraway and I’d like him to keep thinking that. That’s another reason why I need to become someone else.”