by D. A. Young
“Sten?”
At first, Kat heard nothing. Then there was a slightly muffled sound. She remained statue-still, ears straining. Eventually, it came again. Louder this time to her left.
Crap. It sounded like Sten. Kat readied her mace and flipped the baton out and waited.
“Help…”
Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Kat squinted to the right and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary in the dining room, approached the opposite direction toward his location.
“Sten?” She stood poised in the entryway of the spacious kitchen and was puzzled. It was empty. Kat was convinced the sounds had come from here.
“Ka…”
Definitely from here. Slowly, Kat moved to her right around the large marble island until he came into view.
“Sten!”
He lay on the floor, still in his burgundy and slate-blue striped Honroe pajamas with his silk, navy sleep mask on top of his head. His beautiful, golden-brown waves were spread gloriously underneath him. Wide gray eyes fluttered open, and he smiled faintly upon seeing her. It was just like old times when Kat would swing by his place and have to wake him from a night of partying like an A-list celebrity.
Except then, Sten didn’t have an eight-inch knife sticking out the side of his neck. And his hue wasn’t a “near death’s door” pallor.
Terror gripped her and the baton and mace fell out of her hands as she ran to him. Dropping to her knees, she disrupted the perfect pool of blood he was laying in. For a moment, Kat blankly studied the crimson puddle. Jesus. There was so much of it! The coppery-metallic tang in the air threatened to overpower her.
“Sten! What happened? Fuck! Don’t try to talk! I’ll get you some help! Stay here…” She was shaking so hard, Kat could barely draw a breath, let alone form a cohesive thought. Calm down, Romankov! Get it together! “I mean, I’m going to get my phone and call for help!”
Too much blood.
Sten grabbed her wrist, and a sense of déjà vu overcame her. He had the same desperation on his face as he’d worn last night. Only this time, it mingled with fright.
“Ring... not... one!” he gasped. “Not…”
“Sssh! Don’t try to talk! Let me get you some help,” she soothed helplessly, knowing it was useless. Kat racked her brain to remember her high school health education. A major artery had obviously been cut.
Weren’t there four significant arteries in the neck?
Sten tried once more as his hold slackened. “Not…gone…”
With tears in her eyes, Kat watched the life in his eyes ebb away. She felt completely shitty. They’d been great friends who’d wanted to blaze their way through the fashion industry and leave their mark behind long after they were gone. And now, Sten was gone forever. Kat would never know why he betrayed her and their friendship.
Unexpectedly, a floorboard creaked ominously.
In the kitchen.
With her.
Sten was trying to say his attacker wasn’t gone, she realized belatedly, arm hairs rising.
Kat jumped up as the pantry door diagonal to them burst open, revealing a stranger in all black, including a full-face mask. Eyes, so pale a blue that they appeared colorless, glared menacingly, telling Kat she’d meet the same fate as Sten if he got a hold of her. He snatched a cleaver from the metal wall rack closest to him and flung it at her. Kat ducked, her heels skittering in Sten’s blood as it crashed through the window above the sink behind her. She managed to uphold her balance, feinting to the left when he went right, careful to keep the island between them. There was no way she could make it to her weapons in time. This cat and mouse dance went on for several seconds before he tried leaping over the counter and Kat’s training kicked in.
“If you can swing it, always use their momentum to your advantage.”
She could hear Tuck saying it clear as crystal.
Kat grabbed the front of his jacket mid-leap, channeling his momentum and yanked him forward off the counter. He crashed into a bottom row of cabinets, head first. Discombobulated, he landed flat on his back with a groan. Kat raced and grabbed her mace and baton as he struggled to his feet, facing away from her. Flipping out the baton, she whacked the back of his knees, and he fell forward. Kat yanked his mask off, and his eyes met hers in surprise. She stepped back, spraying the mace down, directly into his face, while her mind processed details.
Over six feet tall. Pale skin. dark hair. Narrow face.
“Bitch!” he sputtered, enraged by her defensive attack.
Foreign. Slight Accent. British maybe?
Blindly, he tried to reach for her. “I’m going to enjoy carving you up!”
Now coughing and her own eyes watering, Kat raised her baton then spied something more useful in the dish rack. She set her weapons down and grabbed the cast iron skillet as he sightlessly advanced on her, arms swinging. Clenching the handle with both hands, Kat nimbly avoided his hands and swung it upside his head with all her might. The brutal crunch it delivered upon impact was effective and satisfied her thirst for vengeance so pleasurable, she did it three more times for good measure.
***
“I’m gonna kill that motherfucker!”
Tuck’s oath dripped with savagery. When he was done, that pussy-ass bitch was going to wish Kat had finished what she’d started.
Kat pulled away from him with a vehement shake of her curls. “No, you’re not! I could have easily done that, but he needs to pay for his crimes.”
“You’re not a killer, Romankov.”
Her eyes were serene. “I never looked at it as killing, only justice served, Rydell.”
Shit! She was weirding him the fuck out again. Tuck placed his hands on Kat’s shoulders. “I’m taking you home right now, darlin’. You need to be around your family.”
Her big, boisterous family that would shower her with attention. They’d notice immediately that something was wrong and would demand answers, badgering and snooping until they got them. Kat would never have a moment alone again if they found out what transpired here. And then it would only be a matter of time before her brothers got involved.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbled with an unsteady smile. “I’m actually flying to D.C. tonight. I’d like to pay my respects to the family first.”
He examined her thoroughly, and Kat was grateful that she’d changed out of her ruined outfit. While waiting for Tuck to arrive, she’d dragged him back into the pantry and shoved a chair under the doorknob. Kat went out to her car and used makeup wipes to clean Sten’s blood away. She changed into a black sweat suit from her suitcase and wrapped her bloody clothes in her bathrobe.
“Kat, the body hasn’t been discovered yet,” he reminded her. Sympathetically, he squeezed her shoulder when it eventually dawned on her what he was leaving unsaid.
“We can’t just leave him there! He has a family that will be worried about him! His cousin Andy is his best friend and Summer needs to know too! He may have been a backstabbing loser in the end, but I’ve met his family. They’re genuinely nice and decent people.”
“This ain’t even up for debate, Kat! You need to be far away from here. Get on that plane. Anythin’ you need, don’t hesitate to call me.”
“I won’t. Thank you for everything, Tuck.” Her smile was a shadow of her signature impish one. “Oh, and don’t worry; I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you with Autumn.”
“Atta, girl! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
***
“Flight 2518 headed to Paris, France at Gate 45 is now boarding!”
The airport was loud and bustling. She’d bought a hot tea and grappled with her decisions, evaluating the pros and cons. Finally, she picked up her phone and dialed, listening to it ring with suspended breath, hoping her mother wouldn’t answer.
“You’ve reached Vivienne Romankov. I’m currently unavailable to take your call. Please leave your name, number, and state the nature of your business. I’ll return your call at my
earliest convenience. Goodbye.”
“Hey, Mama. I know that I’m supposed to come down this weekend. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to. I’ve got a ton of orders that I need to start working on.” Kat forced out a laugh, striving to keep her emotions at bay. “Anyway, I’ll be swamped for a while. You know you’re my absolute favorite, right? I love you, Mama. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Just hearing her confident mother’s unflappable voice made Kat’s composure crack. All she wanted was to be held and coddled like the baby she constantly protested she wasn’t. Her mother would never have found herself in such a perilous situation. That deduction culminated with Sten’s betrayal and murder made Kat want to crumble. She pulled the ticket she’d just purchased out of her purse and headed to Gate 45. On her way, she called her papa, too, and reiterated a similar message.
***
Early the next morning, Tuck was rudely awakened by the persistent ringing of his phone. His hand slapped around the nightstand until he found the offensive object. Face still in the pillow, he brought it to his ear.
“Yeah?” he grumbled, clearing his throat.
“Son, it’s Jethro! We got a problem,” the doctor replied grimly.
Tuck flipped onto his back and frowned up at the whirring ceiling fan. “What kinda problem?”
“Ol’ boy is gone.”
“Shit! Where did he go? He was shackled, damn it!”
“Son, I’m afraid yer misunderstandin’ me. He’s deader than a doornail. As in he’s met his maker. As in he done bit the big dust bullet.”
“We really gotta work on your bedside manner, doc. How did it happen?”
“I replayed the camera footage. Someone broke in and shot the security guard. They torched the clinic while John Doe was still handcuffed to the bed. All evidence is gone.”
Tuck swung his legs over the side of the bed and scratched his head. Since he had wiped down everything Kat touched, there was no DNA for him to have tested.
“Sonofabitch!”
“You gonna tell little mama?”
“Nah,” Tuck replied firmly. “I’m gonna do a little diggin’ on my own.”
“Well when you find out, lemme know. I’m curious as to know what kinda bullshit you got us smack dab in the middle of, boy.”
Chapter Three
Spring 2015
Whiskey Row, TN
There was truly no place like home, Kat deduced as she zipped toward the “Welcome to Whiskey Row” sign. Spring had come early, and the Smoky Mountains were brimming with the metamorphosis of a new season. What was covered in gray slush, the remnants of its icy winter when Kat left eight weeks ago, now thrived with new life. Near Gatlinburg, she’d spied a black bear and its cubs frolicking in a creek as the sweet harmonies of blue jays and finches chirped nearby. Sun shining brightly, the cloudless blue-sky was the perfect contrast to the lush, emerald foliage of the trees, hills, and assorted varieties of blossoming flowers. The rush of the waterfalls could be heard clearly, even from a distance on the road.
The weather was perfect for taking advantage of the swimming hole. She’d have to persuade Autumn to take an afternoon off so they could chill and catch up. The two women hardly had a chance to these days as Autumn had recently inherited The Ink Stain, Whiskey Row’s only tattoo parlor, from her uncle. Kat’s car alerted her to an incoming call from Jack.
“Heeey, big brother!’
“How ya doin’, babygirl? Welcome home.”
Kat smiled at the deepening of his southern drawl. It never failed whenever Jack and Casey connected with anyone back home or returned for a visit. Darby called them ‘citified Benedict Arnolds’, which always got the expected rise out of Casey. Those two loved each other madly, but occasionally, no, make that always, fought like cats and dogs.
“Thanks; I’m not too shabby. What about you?”
There was a long pause gradually followed by a chuckle.
“I’m better than I have been in a long time, Kat. I know you’re busy—”
“Never too busy for my favorite big brother, and if you tell either one of them that I said that, I will deny, deny, deny like a playa caught in a lie,” Kat sang, making Jack burst out laughing.
“I appreciate that. I was wonderin’ if I could commission a piece from you?”
Kat was instantly captivated, not just by the request, but by the fact that her normally confident and unflappable brother sounded happy yet edgy.
“Sure. I’ll help in any way that I can, Jack. What did you need?”
On the other end of the line, Kat heard her brother exhale in a jittery gust. This time, there was no uncertainty in his response. “I’m gettin’ married, sis. I need a weddin’ ring, and I want no expense spared for her.”
It took Kat a moment to speak. First, she had to pick her slack jaw up off the floor then find her voice. Jack Sullivan, her devastatingly handsome, bachelor brother that had been breaking hearts straight out the womb was finally getting married.
But to whom???
“I want to meet her first!” she demanded, excitement taking over. He was an excellent judge of character, so Kat knew she was sure to like her. “When do I get to meet this paragon of virtue who’s stolen my Jackie’s heart?! Have the parentals met her yet?! What about the Brothers Grimm??? I better not be the last one!”
His laugh was easy and relaxed. “I knew you’d say that, brat! I’ll make you a deal: you give me what I want, and I’ll bring her to The Row. You’re gonna love her, I promise.”
“When do you need it by? I can probably pull something off in a month—”
“ASAP.”
“ASAP?!” she repeated incredulously. “What is this? An ‘Ocean’s movie heist’? Jack, an engagement ring is designed to order! Each detail is considered without compromise, resulting in a flawless finished product! Perfection cannot be rushed!”
“I’m willin’ to pay quadruple the retail cost to have it done in time and for any inconvenience this may cause you.”
Kat never charged friends and family retail, but they insisted on paying it to support her. There was no point in refusing the money. It would mysteriously wind up in her account anyway.
“There’s a process!” Kat protested, but her mind was already racing in a million different directions at such an impromptu challenge. “I have to cast the metal in your chosen design then prepare the cast ring for mounting and size it. Next, I’ll set your gemstone, or should I say stones, because I know Mama didn’t raise a cheapskate, and lastly, polish! The entire process takes weeks not days!”
“I trust you to design it to the best of your abilities, darlin’. You were born to do this.”
His tone was determined. He was refusing to take no for an answer. She knew that when Jackie got like this, there was no talking him out of something. That the woman, whoever she was, was worth the chaos Kat was about to throw herself into for her oldest brother. Jackie deserved all the happiness in the world. All of her brothers did.
“You must have fallen in love very quickly,” she remarked gently. “I’ve never seen you like this about anyone.”
Jack’s quiet laugh was full of contentment. “Fall? No, Kat. I crashed into it. My heart never stood a chance against Noelle Kramer.”
“She better treat you right, too, because I’ve beaten ass for less, bruh. Okay, I’m in! Send me…”
Kat fired off the necessities, and Jack promised to email her everything shortly. Her gaslight came on as she ended the call, and Kat navigated her way to the first gas station she saw, the Git & Split, a Whiskey Row institution. She pulled into the parking lot and rolled up to an available gas pump. Pocketing her iPod, Kat sang along to Culture Club’s “Karma Chameleon” as she exited her copper Fiat or "the deathtrap” as her father contemptuously deemed it.
“Does it even require gas? Or do you just flip it over and wind it up, Katya?” Alexei grilled, surveying the small vehicle with his glorious Russian disdain. “For God’s sake! Why that car?! Is it about money? Y
our accountant has assured me that you make more than enough to buy a real car!” Alexei’s expression turned wily. “How about you let me donate that one to charity and buy you an early birthday present instead?”
“Of your choice, Papa?” Kat scoffed. “No, thank you. I happen to like my car! Oh, and thanks for reminding me that I need to switch accountants. We obviously can’t employ the same one if he goes behind my back and snitches my business to you. Or maybe I’ll just remind him what happens to snitches instead? Stop interfering in my affairs, please,” she ended with a sweet smile at his slighted expression.
They both knew that Alexei was pissed, not because of her choice of vehicle but that Kat was able to buy it right under his nose. Her father was adamant about paying her way for everything. Alexei didn’t care that Kat could sufficiently earn her own living. It was his duty as the family patriarch to support his family, specifically the women. “Please indulge me, Katya. Save your money for a rainy day.”
Although he meant well, it was, at times, infuriating. What was the point in instilling a rigorous work ethic in all of his children if they could not reap the benefits of their endeavors?
Singing under her breath, Kat bopped across the full parking lot to the store’s entrance. The automatic sliding doors granted Kat access, and she waved at her former classmates, Ameyo Pang and her husband Kyung, standing behind the counter. The Ghanaian woman and her Korean high school sweetheart had married two years ago. The Git & Split was owned by Kyung’s parents, but the couple helped out when on break from school in Nashville.
“Hey, y’all! When’d you get home?” she greeted them, pausing her music.
“Gurl! I could ask you the same thing!” Ameyo trilled, her carob hue radiating with happiness. As usual, Ameyo’s hair was covered in a vibrantly patterned headwrap. Today’s was cobalt-blue with white and red flowers splayed all over it. It looked regal with the sterling silver, interlocking circle-drop earrings Kyung had commissioned from Kat for Ameyo’s birthday.
She abandoned her position at the counter and came around to exchange hugs while her husband hung back with an indulgent smile. Kyung waved at Kat before returning his attention to the long line of customers.
