Heart of a Killer

by Yolanda Wallace

  “That might have had something to do with it, but I think the greater incentive was the idea of spending some quality time with you.”

  She cupped Brooklyn’s face in her hands and kissed her. The kiss they had shared on the street a few minutes earlier had been just a peck. This one was anything but.

  She pulled Brooklyn’s lower lip into her mouth and applied gentle pressure. Then she slowly traced her lip with her tongue, memorizing every contour.

  “You taste like honey,” she said when they finally parted.

  “If you like the taste so much, I’ll let you borrow my lip gloss.” Brooklyn used both hands to gently push her away. “Because if you keep kissing me like that, I won’t be able to concentrate on any of the clues. You want to get out of here before the time limit’s up, don’t you?”

  Santana checked her watch, then began quickly but methodically examining each object within arm’s reach. “We have less than fifteen minutes if we want to break the record.”

  Brooklyn chuckled. “How did I know you would be this competitive?”

  Santana picked up a box containing an unfinished jigsaw puzzle. A note on the bottom of the box said the puzzle needed to be completed in order for players to advance to the next stage of the game. She opened the box and removed the twelve pieces inside. “Because you know me so well.”

  “Do I?” Brooklyn asked as she joined two of the pieces together.

  Santana looked away from the puzzle they were working on so she could examine Brooklyn’s face. “Yes, you do. Better than anyone I’ve ever met. I feel like I can be myself with you.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  She looked Brooklyn in the eye so Brooklyn could see that, even though they were in an escape room, she wasn’t playing games. “No, I don’t.”

  Brooklyn’s smile faded as her expression turned serious. “Why now?” she asked, the puzzle seemingly forgotten. “Why me?”

  Santana didn’t have to look at her watch again to know they were running out of time, but she no longer cared about beating a random stranger’s record. She only wanted to let Brooklyn know how much she had come to care for her.

  “Sometimes I feel like you came to my rescue on New Year’s Eve instead of the other way around. Before I met you, relationships were something meant for other people, not me. I didn’t have the time or the interest to give one a try. But you make me want to find the time because you definitely have my interest.” She moved closer. How could she not? She was already well past the point where instinct usually told her to run away. “Before you, I had no idea what I was missing. Now that I do, I don’t want to let go.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on going anywhere.” Brooklyn tilted her head back and smiled up at her. “I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.”

  Santana tapped her index finger against Brooklyn’s chin. “I would, but you said you needed your powers of concentration in order to bust us out of here, remember?”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” Brooklyn pressed the final puzzle piece into place and examined the overall image the individual pieces had created. She snapped her fingers when the image directed her to the location of a hidden key. “Get your lips ready, handsome, because I just found the way out.” She slipped the key into the lock on the door and turned it. Or tried to. The triumphant look on her face changed to dismay when the door didn’t open. She dropped the key into the basket that had been provided to collect objects that had been used and discarded during the course of the game. “Maybe this won’t be as easy as I thought.”

  “Falling in love never is. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “So have I.” Brooklyn walked toward her. She didn’t stop until their bodies were touching up and down. “But would you like to put the theory to the test?”

  “Yes, I would,” Santana said against her better judgment. “And I’d like to do it with you.”

  “Are you saying you want us to be exclusive?”

  “I’m saying I want to see this through to the end, no matter where it leads.”

  She just hoped the ending would be one both of them could live with.

  * * *

  Brooklyn had never felt so flustered in her life. She and Vilma had managed to find their way out of the escape room before the deadline, but the task had taken much longer than she had expected. Probably because she was too distracted by the conversation she and Vilma had shared about the status of their relationship to concentrate on the clues. She didn’t know what the future would hold for her and Vilma, but at least they were giving themselves the opportunity to find out.

  “If that was an intermediate challenge,” she had said when they finally located the key that unlocked the door, “I’m not too sure I want to try an advanced one.”

  Vilma had draped an arm across her shoulders. “We’ll do better next time.”

  “You’re determined to break that record, aren’t you?”

  “Not tonight. Tonight, I’d prefer to take my time.”

  Vilma’s kiss had felt like a tease, offering an enticing hint of what was to come.

  “My sentiments exactly.”

  “Your place or mine?”

  Vilma’s place was closer, and it also offered more privacy. Unlike the last time she and Vilma were together, Brooklyn didn’t want to worry about disturbing the neighbors.

  “Yours,” she had said as she used an app on her phone to arrange for a car to pick them up. “Then I plan to spend the rest of the night making you mine.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  And Brooklyn loved the feel of Vilma’s bare skin against hers. She imagined the sensation as they waited for the car to arrive, then suffered through what felt like an interminable elevator ride to Vilma’s apartment. When they finally made it upstairs, she reminded herself to show a modicum of restraint rather than giving in to an urge to rip Vilma’s clothes off. There was a twenty-four-hour dry cleaners around the corner that also performed repairs and alterations, but she didn’t want to waste precious time running errands when she could be spending that time with Vilma.

  They slowly undressed each other, then spent several minutes simply taking each other in. Though they had slept together before, tonight felt different somehow. Tonight wasn’t a casual hookup. Tonight was so much more. Rather than the culmination of a brief but dogged pursuit, it seemed to mark the beginning of an epic journey. One they had vowed to take together.

  Vilma lay on the bed and beckoned to her. “Make me yours,” she said in a voice thick with desire.

  Vilma’s words were the first either had spoken since they had arrived at her apartment building. They had been chatty all night but had fallen silent the moment the elevator doors slid shut. In that instant, Brooklyn had felt the weight of the moment settle on her shoulders. Vilma’s words, however, set her free.

  “Your wish is my command.” She sighed contentedly after she covered Vilma’s body with her own. “I missed this.”

  Vilma arched her back, rising to meet her. “I missed you.”

  That did it.

  Brooklyn took her in every way imaginable. First with her hands, then her mouth. A few toys might have come into play at some point, but Brooklyn wasn’t thinking too straight by then. She was too entranced by the wondrous sensation of making Vilma come again and again and again.

  “I could get addicted to this,” she said as Vilma tended to the insistent throbbing between her legs.

  “Good. Because I’m already addicted to you.”

  Brooklyn closed her eyes as she exploded against Vilma’s hand. She reminded herself to thank Vilma for the fireworks display. Once she regained the power of speech, that was.

  “Thank you for a night to remember,” Vilma said, drawing Brooklyn into her arms.

  “It’s definitely one I’ll never forget.” Brooklyn rested her head on Vilma’s chest. She could hear Vilma’s heart beating double time. “Thank you for the workout.”


  Vilma rolled out of bed and pulled Brooklyn with her.

  “Where are we going?” Brooklyn asked as Vilma dragged her across the room.

  “What are you supposed to do after a workout except hit the showers?”

  Brooklyn smiled as she remembered the multitude of strategically placed shower heads in Vilma’s bathroom. Never had getting clean sounded so dirty. She couldn’t wait to get started.

  * * *

  In the bathroom, Santana turned on the water and waited for it to get warm. She thrust her hand into the spray to make sure it wasn’t too hot before she gave Brooklyn the okay to follow her inside.

  Brooklyn piled her hair into a loose bun, then stepped into the shower. Santana closed the door behind her. When Brooklyn rubbed her slippery body against hers, Santana felt herself grow wet in places the five jets of water hadn’t yet reached.

  “When my brothers and sisters and I were younger,” Brooklyn said, “our mother was always yelling at us to save water. If I’d known conservation was this much fun, I would have done it a long time ago.”

  Santana directed Brooklyn to turn around. Then she squeezed body wash onto a shower sponge and rubbed the sponge across the nape of Brooklyn’s neck. Brooklyn quivered when a line of soap suds trickled down her back.

  “If this is the treatment I receive when you come home,” Brooklyn said with a sigh, “I might have to ask you to go away more often.”

  Santana soaped Brooklyn’s shoulders and arms. “What did you do while I was away?”

  “I played arcade games with a group of people from work.” Brooklyn ducked her head. “It sounds juvenile when I say it out loud.”

  “No.” Santana turned Brooklyn to face her. “It sounds like you. Did you have fun?”

  “Yes, but I discovered AJ isn’t as enamored with you as I am.”

  Brooklyn seemed to find the comment amusing, but it caused Santana more than a bit of concern. She had known from the moment they met that AJ would be trouble. The only question was if she would turn out to be a minor annoyance or a major one.

  “Because?” she asked cautiously.

  Brooklyn slipped her arms around Santana’s neck. “Apparently, you keep too much of a low profile for her liking. She googled you and became alarmed when she couldn’t come up with anything concrete.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Winslow’s tech wizards had taken great pains to keep her internet profile as generic as possible. Apparently, their efforts had worked.

  “I thought so, but she warned me I shouldn’t get involved with you. She thinks you’re too much of a mystery.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a bit late to avoid getting involved, don’t you?”

  “Not yet. There’s still time for you to walk away.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

  “Hardly. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

  Brooklyn stood on her tiptoes and kissed her. “Let me worry about my friends.”

  “And what would you like me to do?”

  Brooklyn glanced at the bath sponge in her hand. “I could be wrong, but I think there are a few spots you might have missed.”

  Santana slowly slid the sponge down Brooklyn’s body. “We can’t have that, can we?”

  She set all her other thoughts aside so she could concentrate on Brooklyn. She had always prided herself on being good at multitasking. From now on, though, she would have to take one thing at a time. For her sake and Brooklyn’s.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Brooklyn hummed to herself as she walked down the street. She drew a couple of strange looks from a few passersby, but she didn’t care. She felt like Gene Kelly without the raindrops and the lamppost doubling as a dance partner. She couldn’t remember a coffee run ever being so much fun. Or maybe it wasn’t the coffee itself but the thought of who she would be sharing it with.

  “Does she like savory breakfast pastries or sweet ones?” she wondered aloud as she stared at the selection of baked deliciousness in the coffee shop a few blocks from Vilma’s apartment.

  “When in doubt, get one of each.”

  Brooklyn glanced at the gangly teenage boy who had joined her at the counter. His friendly face was framed by a mop of curly blond hair. “Good advice.” She ordered two bear claws and a pair of breakfast sandwiches.

  “Do you live around here?” the boy asked after he ordered two macchiatos and an espresso.

  “No, I’m just visiting. How about you?”

  “My dads and I live a few blocks over. They own the flower shop across the street. I help them out from time to time.”

  Brooklyn looked in the direction he had indicated. “Hey, I know that place. My girlfriend bought flowers for me there.” Girlfriend. That was the first time she had used the word to describe Vilma. It gave her a thrill hearing it out loud.

  “Awesome. Tell her she has great taste. And I don’t just mean in flowers.”

  “You’re a born salesman, aren’t you?”

  “I was hoping it didn’t show. What’s your girlfriend’s name? Maybe she’s one of our regulars.”

  “Vilma Bautista. Do you know her?”

  The boy grinned. “So you’re the one.”

  “The one what?”

  He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’ll probably kill me for talking out of turn, but I inherited my dads’ love of gossip. Ms. Bautista often pops into the shop to buy bouquets for her lady friends, but you’re the first one she ever bought a potted plant for.”

  “A potted plant? No, she sent a bouquet to my office.”

  “Bouquet? So the lavender I sold her a couple of weeks ago wasn’t—Shit.” The boy covered his mouth with his hands. The gesture highlighted rather than hid the expression of abject panic on his face. “My dads are right. I do talk too much. Forget I said anything.”

  “No worries. We all have a past, don’t we?” And today, she was more interested in the future.

  “Thanks,” he said, looking relieved. “And tell her Harry said hello.”

  “Will do.”

  After the barista called her name, she picked up her order and headed back to Vilma’s apartment. Something struck her before she made it halfway there. Harry had said the potted plant he had sold Vilma was lavender. The flowers she had seen the mysterious figure tending to during Charlie’s interment service were lavender, too. Was it a coincidence, or was Vilma the person she had seen that day? Vilma was the same height and size as the person she had spotted, but what reason would she have to trek all the way out to Jersey City? She had said her mother still lived in the Philippines and she and her father weren’t close. That meant she couldn’t have been visiting family. And her friends probably wouldn’t be caught dead outside of Manhattan unless they were taking the scenic route to one of their summer homes.

  Perhaps she was the reason.

  Perhaps Vilma was taking her role as protector more seriously than Brooklyn had initially thought. The idea was sweet but probably far-fetched. And a bit creepy, too. New York was a large city and lavender was a fairly common flower. What were the chances Vilma had bought the ones that had been placed at the grave of a woman who just happened to share the same piece of real estate as Charlie?

  “Try slim and none.”

  Yet life was often made up of coincidences. If it hadn’t, she and Vilma never would have met in the first place.

  “You were gone a while,” Vilma said when Brooklyn returned to her apartment.

  “I ran into a friend of yours.”

  “Who?”

  “Harry from the flower shop. He says hello, by the way.”

  “Judging by the frown lines on your forehead, that isn’t the only thing he said.” Vilma lowered the newspaper she was reading and patted the spot next to her on the couch. “What’s up?”

  Brooklyn handed Vilma the A
mericano she had requested. “I’m being silly.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Brooklyn tucked her feet underneath her as she wrapped her hands around the warm cup of vanilla latte in her hands. “Do you know a woman named Melanie Pierce?”

  “No, should I?” Vilma took a sip of her coffee. “Who is she?”

  “Was.”

  “Okay, who was she?”

  Brooklyn shrugged. “I don’t know her either.”

  “Was she one of Harry’s customers?”

  “I doubt it. She died before he was born.”

  “Now I’m curious.” Vilma set her cup of coffee down. “Why is a woman you don’t even know a topic of conversation?”

  “Someone planted a pot of lavender at her grave during Charlie’s interment service. When Harry told me he’d sold you the same plant during that timeframe, I thought the person I saw that day might have been you.”

  “Sorry. I can honestly say Melanie Pierce and I have never met. But I’m glad to know you think about me so much you’re imagining my face on other people’s bodies. As long as you don’t do the opposite when we’re in bed, we won’t have a problem.”

  Brooklyn laughed. At Vilma’s joke, but mostly at herself. “Like I said, I’m being silly. It’s early and I haven’t had nearly enough caffeine.” She reached for the box of pastries. “I bought breakfast.”

  “So I see.”

  Vilma snagged one of the breakfast sandwiches. Brooklyn grabbed a bear claw. As they ate, her high spirits began to dim. She couldn’t deny the relief she had felt at hearing—and seeing—Vilma’s nonchalant response to her question. The realization made her wonder if she trusted Vilma as much as she had initially thought.

  * * *

  Santana chewed mechanically. The sandwich was delicious, but she could barely taste it. Beside her, Brooklyn appeared to be lost in thought. Harry’s slip of the tongue could turn out to be costly.

  He was a good kid. He was probably being his usual chatty self. She couldn’t blame him for this snafu. No, this was on her. She should have been more careful when she visited the cemetery. More than that, she should have walked away after she had refused to perform the job she had been assigned to do rather than sticking around and getting involved with the victim’s best friend.