Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  We have breakfast at a shop near the center and I let her pay because I don’t feel like hearing a lecture. We don’t talk much. In fact, we barely eat; we mostly just sit there living inside our heads. God only knows what’s going on inside each of us.

  When we get to her office, I help her and Kat open up the center. I replace her security system, cameras and locks. I call Banshee and have him sweep the center for bugs. I also tell him that I need to take care of a few things and Shay is in his hands.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I tell her as she watches us work from the doorway of her office. She looks sad. That look wasn’t there before last night. Yes, when I got here yesterday she was worried and on edge; that was because of Malone, but this look she’s giving me right now, that look is all mine. I am the one making her miserable.

  I’m not enjoying it. It actually pains me to see her sad in any way. But if I wasn’t a dick last night, I would have grabbed her and made love to her all night and where would we be in the morning? It was hard as shit to tell her I wanted nothing to do with her on a personal level. It was also a big fucking lie. I want her in every way possible, but after cheating on me, even if we could go back, I’m not sure it could ever be the same.

  ***

  I don’t have all the info I need on this Malone guy but I know where I have to go to get it—from my little brother, Wyatt. Before our grandfather passed away he left me, all four of my brothers and my sister, Rose, a townhouse. Wyatt’s is located uptown. When I get there, it’s all I can do not to break his damn door down. I pound loudly and call out his name.

  “What the hell, man?!” Wyatt says as he opens the door and tries to rub the sleep away from his eyes. I push past him and enter his house. He closes the door and follows me inside. “Why are you breaking down my door?” he demands.

  “No, I’m asking the questions. Let’s start with why the fuck you didn’t tell me Shay was in danger!” I rage.

  “Because I wish her harm and I genuinely want to make life hard for you,” he says sarcastically.

  “Goddamn it, Wyatt! You know what that girl means to me!” I bark.

  “Yeah, I do. That’s why I’ve had to cash in every favor to make sure that she had round the clock protection.”

  “Let’s talk about your idea of protection. You left her in the hands of a fucking moron,” I accuse.

  “The guy I had originally scheduled had to cancel at the last minute, and just so we are clear, I didn’t have to do that. I looked out for her because she matters to you and because she was good to you until…” He doesn’t finish his thought. He knows he doesn’t need to.

  “She was in danger for over two months and you let that shit play out! You have no idea what could have happened to her in that time. This is bullshit, you know you should have called me,” I blare as I pace frantically around the room.

  My little brother’s posture stiffens and his jaw clenches. He’s trying to control his temper—he’s a lot better at that shit than I am.

  “You should have told me, Wyatt, you should have called me and told me everything,” I demand.

  “I get that you would have liked to be read in but the fact of the matter is, you didn’t want anything to do with Shay. That’s why you left the country, that’s why you ran as fast and as far as you could. You did everything in your power to stay away from this woman and now you’re pissed off because I don’t call you to update you on what’s going on in her life?”

  “I am not asking for a fucking Facebook update on her new ‘likes’ and what concert she went to see. Her life is in danger; don’t you think that’s the kind of shit I should have been read in on?”

  “We tried to handle the situation, we tried to get her into witness protection, but she wouldn’t go. I talked to her every goddamn day for weeks and she refused. And even after all that, I made she sure had someone looking out for her. I’m sorry Lockhart was bad at it, he’s a rookie. I’ll chew his ass out later, but you don’t get to come in here and go off on me.”

  “The least you could have done was look after her personally.”

  “What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do? This isn’t even my case! How far out on a limb am I supposed to go?” he snaps.

  “So you stick your neck out for Shay but only as long as it’s convenient. That’s perfect! Great job, little brother.”

  “You are so damn delusional! You’re not pissed off at me or anyone else, you are angry because you left her and she got in over her head. This has nothing to do with me.”

  “The hell it doesn’t. You know damn well why I left,” I shout.

  “No, Logan, I don’t! I know why you left Shay. I know why you and she don’t live together anymore, and I certainly get why you broke off the engagement. But I have no idea why you would walk out on all of us. We aren’t the ones who hurt you, Shay did. We deserve more than the three or so random phone calls in the middle of the night from god knows what rat-infested hole you’re in.

  “And just to be clear, there is no way you would have been happy with anyone protecting her but yourself. I get that shit, I really do. But you don’t get to walk away and still be clued in on what’s going on around here.”

  My heart is pounding; my face is twisted in anger. I swear to God, I need to hit something or someone—now. “Goddamn it! I want to know why the hell you didn’t call me?!” I demand as I pick up the nearest beer mug off the table and hurl it at a wall.

  “BECAUSE SHAY BROKE YOUR FUCKING HEART!”

  His words grab hold of me and suck the rage out from my chest. He’s right. If some chick had done that to him, I wouldn’t call him to come help her, either. I’d want to protect him from having to face her. The same way Wyatt was trying to protect me.

  “Alright well, what the fuck do you have to drink around here?” I reply, marching into his kitchen.

  “It’s not even noon yet. Drink some OJ and shut the hell up,” he says as he places the carton of orange juice on the counter. I pick it up and drink straight from the container.

  “Animal,” he says.

  “Fuck you,” I reply with no hostility or conviction. He’s my brother; I yell at him, he yells back. It’s how we love. I guzzle more of the juice. He’s about to say something but then he thinks better and keeps his mouth shut. Crap.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “The truth is after what I found out last night, I was going to call you if she didn’t,” he admits.

  “Why? What did you find out?” I ask. He goes over to the stack of files on the coffee table and comes back with a black case folder. He hands it to me and I can tell by the dark look on his face, my day is about to go to shit.

  “We found nothing on Malone in the beginning but last night we started looking into his company. It’s not good,” he warns as I look through the stack of papers.

  “This can’t be right,” I mutter as I look closer at Malone’s list of clients.

  “It’s right. We double-checked,” Wyatt confirms.

  “Malone’s firm handles two of the five biggest mob families in New York? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  “He helps them launder their money and from what we hear he is really good at it. And there’s no way they are going to let their ‘gold star’ money guy go down for killing his wife. No matter what happens, Malone won’t go to jail,” Wyatt adds.

  “FUCK!” I rage as I hurl the box of juice across the room. It lands on the other side of the kitchen and juice splatters everywhere.

  “Okay, you are paying for my cleaning lady this weekend, just so you know,” he jokes, trying to get me to calm down.

  “Wyatt, they can’t let her testify. If she does, and Malone goes away—”

  “It would be very bad for the two families his company reps. So it’s no longer about Malone coming after her…”

  “It’s the two different mob families.”

  “Yeah…I’m sorry,” Wyatt says. My seething rage and frustration reflect on my f
ace. My jaw and my fists are clenched. Although the mob isn’t what it used to be, make no mistake about it, they are still powerful and still willing to kill anyone that gets in their way. I see a flash in my head: Shay’s body lies on the coroner’s table. She’s pale, lifeless, and has a hole in the middle of her forehead. My chest tightens as the scene plays out in my head. Weak and shaken, I pull out a seat at the kitchen counter.

  “Logan, you know we got you. Just tell me what you need.”

  “Banshee is there right now, checking for bugs. I updated her alarm and installed new cameras. There are two other businesses on the floor below the center, can you look into them and make sure they are not connected in any way? Just to be safe,” I reply.

  “Consider it done,” Wyatt promises.

  “I need you to secure a safe house for us,” I add.

  “Yeah I can do that. You think she’ll go?” he says.

  “She doesn’t have a choice. She doesn’t want to go into hiding, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let her stay out in the open.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Send me everything you have on the two families. I want to know as much as possible about the people coming for her.”

  “Done.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble gratefully.

  “Maybe you do need that drink,” he says, then goes inside the fridge and hands me a beer.

  I push it away. “I’m good. I just need to convince a woman who never listened to me when we were dating to suddenly start listening to me now that we’re apart. How hard can that shit be?” I ask bitterly.

  “Well, I don’t want to add to this but there’s something I think you should know…”

  “Christ, what is it?” I ask.

  “Mom’s been gardening,” he says.

  Crap. Our mom only goes in the garden to pull weeds when she’s worried about one of us. Since all five of her sons are in law enforcement, in one way or another, she needs a way to take out her frustration. But since she already has a gardener, there’s usually very few weeds to rip out.

  That’s when she will start in on the flowers that “looked like they were going to die.” She has executed entire rows of flowers in her anger. Over the years she’s had about six gardeners quit. We don’t give her any grief over it since it helps her cope, but when she’s in the garden, it’s a bad sign.

  “She’s just worried because I haven’t checked in yet. She doesn’t know I’m back in New York,” I conclude.

  “She knows. Banshee told her.”

  “Mom knows Banshee?” I ask.

  “Yeah, she had me track him down and she asked him about a hundred questions when you first took off,” Wyatt replies.

  “That was years ago, why are they still in touch?” I ask.

  “In touch? Hell, they’re friends. They take classes together: hot yoga and Intro to Beekeeping. They are also in a book club. I think the book this month is Big Little Lies.

  “Okay, she knows I’m back in the city and I’m sure she’s waiting to chew my ass out for not calling her as soon as I landed. But if she knows I’m here, why is she in the garden worrying?”

  “Because you’re not her only son, genius.”

  No matter where we are in the world, we always try to give Mom a heads-up and let her know that we are okay. Sometimes it takes days before we are able to send even a simple text. And other times, depending on the case we are working, it can take weeks.

  “Who missed check-in?” I ask.

  “Cash.”

  Shit.

  Cash is an adrenaline junkie. He lives to jump out of planes, swim with sharks, and go base-jumping. He’ll do anything for a rush, that’s what makes him such a good DEA agent. He has nerves of fucking steel. He never bends; he never breaks. But while Cash is one for danger, causing Mom to worry is more than dangerous, it’s an outright death wish. None of us would risk that old lady’s wrath unless we had no choice. But Cash especially tries to check in because he often works undercover and will spend weeks if not months under.

  “How long ago was he supposed to check in with her?” I ask.

  “Twenty-four hours ago.”

  “That’s not too bad,” I reply.

  “He’s undercover in Mexico with the Sabido Cartel.”

  “Okay, that’s bad. No word from him at all?”

  “He hasn’t made contact with anyone,” Wyatt replies.

  “Are you worried?” I ask.

  “Cash knows how to handle himself. This isn’t his first time out. He’s a fucking pro,” Wyatt replies.

  “That’s not what I asked you.”

  “Yeah, I know what you asked me,” he admits as our eyes lock. He’s trying not to say out loud what we both fear. That means he’s worried as fuck.

  “Alright, I’ll go over to the house and get Mom out of the garden. And you see what you can find out about Cash. And none of that ‘nice Wyatt’ guy shit. That’s our brother; you get the info no matter what. Got it?”

  “Fuck you and yeah, I got it,” he says. I hug him because I never fucking know when I’m gonna see him again. And as I head to the door, he says, “For the record, I really like Shay. And just so you know, I’m pretty sure there’s a piece of the story you’re not being given about that night at the hotel.”

  “My best friend was sitting on the bed, holding my girl against him, and she was half naked. What more is there?” I ask resentfully.

  “That’s just it, Logan, you didn’t ask any more questions, and you didn’t push to get answers. You walked into the hotel room, you saw what you saw, and that’s it for you. But I saw how that woman looked at you when you were together. That’s not a woman who was ready to throw all of it away for a one-night stand.”

  “Who says it was the first time they hooked up?”

  “You didn’t ask any details?”

  “I don’t need any fucking details, Wyatt.”

  “Man, you need to stop looking at this with your ego and your heart. Look at it like a cop. Ask some damn questions. I’m telling you, Logan, there is something you’re missing...”

  (Present)

  My staff enters and sees all the activity centered throughout our floor. I don’t want them to worry so I tell them it’s just a precaution. Aside from Kat, no one in the office knows what’s going on. This space has to feel safe for the women who enter and they can’t feel that way of they think some crazy guy will come in here and try to take my life. Logan left not too long ago. I’ve been waiting for Kat to come into the office so we can talk. I take two aspirin from my purse and pop them into my mouth. I wash down the pills with a bottle of water. I hear Banshee talking to Kat in the hallway. I look out and the two of them are laughing like lunatics.

  “I’m serious, Kat, if Sam isn’t treating you right, I’m ready to take his place.”

  “Aw, honey. Now I get that you want to have your first piece of chocolate but you don’t want to start with me, honey. I’ll ruin you for others,” she teases.

  “Nope, I’m ready. Anytime,” he assures her.

  “I tell you what, if Sam ever screws up and I leave him, I’ll give you a call. Just remember to reinforce your bed before I come over,” she jokes. The two of them share a laugh as she makes her way to my office.

  “I haven’t seen Banshee in long time, he’s still not right in the head,” she says as she takes a seat.

  “He broke up with his girl,” I reply as I begin to place the files we need on the table before her. This is the part of the day where we read our clients’ files and make sure that we aren’t letting any of them fall through the cracks. If they need more counseling we call and schedule it with them. If they need childcare for the day they have to go to court, we scour the city for daycares that will help out for that day. We try to make it as easy as possible for them to get their lives back and stand up to their abusers.

  “How was last night?” I ask Kat. She’s been trying to spice up her marriage by having date night and trying out new things in
the bedroom. I believe last night was edible underwear night.

  “It was awful. I showered, shaved, and put on my best ‘come do me’ stare. I slipped on the eatable panties and everything! And what did Sam do? He fell asleep on the sofa with a Hot Pocket in his mouth.”

  “Aw, maybe he was tired.”

  “So what? I have a job too. I am making an effort, why isn’t he doing the same? I was so pissed at that Hot Pocket. I am supposed to be the one he takes in his mouth. I think that’s our problem, he mistakes me for a damn Hot Pocket, it must be why he thinks he can heat me up in three minutes,” she says bitterly.

  “Three minutes?”

  “Yeah, I know! He just wants to jump to the main event. But I told him many times before, do not skip the warm-up.”

  “Maybe he needs help understanding what you mean. Have you tried to walk him through it? Show him where you want to be touched and be open with him,” I suggest.

  “He’s just being lazy. It’s like he knows he has me and we’ve been married for over ten years and now he doesn’t need to try. I’m really getting sick of giving him hints. I mean, come on, I’ve seen him warm the car before he starts it. Hell, I’ve watched him talk to the car on a cold day in the driveway. And seriously, if we were in bed, it would turn me on like crazy.”

  “What can he possibly say to the car that would work in bed?” I ask, trying to suppress a laugh. Kat does a deep bass-sounding impression of her husband. “It’s okay, girl, I know it’s cold but I’m right here, I’ll warm you up good, baby. Yeah, that’s it, start for me.” We share a much-needed laugh.

  “How did the night end?” I ask.

  “With me watching the Late Show, snacking on some strawberry flavor underwear and Diet Coke.”

  “I’m sorry. But there’s always next week,” I remind her.

  “Shay, things have really gotten stale with me and Sam. He was never the ‘romance novel” god you find in books but he’d surprise me with flowers once in a while. He’d walk up behind me and we’d kiss for hours on the weekends. Once he even walked into the bedroom with an army hat. He was about to deploy.”