by Skye Warren
He shushed my mumbled protest, carrying me to my bedroom. The sheets were cool along my body. Too cold. I wanted him to join me, but by the time I reached for him, by the time I opened my eyes, he was already gone.
* * *
On Saturday morning, we met in the office. He shared a secret sleepy smile with me before speaking to the group of agents he’d called in to work the weekend. We knew which warehouse Carlos would be using, and we had three possible dates for the shipment.
The first window was only four days away. We already had surveillance on the location so we could watch guard activity and learn their security protocols. With painstaking timing and coordination, we established a plan to bypass the outer perimeter and then confront each inner level until all opposing forces were subdued. That was the hard part.
We’d find out then if Laguardia was among them. Only after would we know if we’d caught our prey. We didn’t have anything as precise as a harpoon. We had a net that would scoop out fish and debris and a hundred other things—and hopefully the shark as well.
Hennessey headed joint task force meetings with the DEA and the local police. Together, we planned the operation with cunning and expertise, and the entire time, I waited for Brody to tell me there’d been a mistake. I wasn’t meant to be part of something this big, this important. I waited for Hennessey to ask Brody for another partner, and for real this time. He’d be better off with someone more experienced than me, wouldn’t he?
But neither of those things happened. Someone else served up the cold reminder of how poorly suited I was for the job. Lance.
“You seem tense,” he mumbled when I’d fallen back in my chair on a rare break in my cubicle. Hennessey had disappeared for some meeting with the bigwigs, so for the umpteenth time, I was left to go over the plans by myself.
I shrugged. “It’s a big deal.”
“For the Bureau or for your career?”
The venom in Lance’s voice shocked me. I sat forward slowly, focusing on him. “For both. Is that a problem?”
He shook his head and disappeared behind the cloth divider, but I wouldn’t be that easily put off. For months, he had been my only friend here. And now, was he turning his back on me? Or had I turned my back on him?
I hadn’t meant to abandon him when I got this assignment. I’d been busy as hell, and Lance had been working in the same conference room for most of the time. But we didn’t have the private talks over the cubicle walls anymore. And if Lance were a little jealous of me getting to do fieldwork, it would only be natural. After all, he’d started here before me.
So why had I gotten the assignment?
I shook the thought away and focused on the problem at hand. Namely, Lance, resolutely staring at his desk as if it held the answers to the universe instead of his timesheet.
“Hey,” I said softly. “I need your help with something, if you’re up for it.”
He tilted his head without looking at me. “Help with what?”
“It’s for the case. But Hennessey wouldn’t approve.” That got his attention. “He might be mad, actually. So you can’t tell him. It’s okay if you don’t want to do it.”
When he turned, he had a faint smile. “Let’s go. You can fill me in on the way.”
“You sure you aren’t worried about Hennessey?”
A snort. “He can kiss my ass.”
Definitely jealous.
Though it occurred to me for the first time that maybe he wasn’t only jealous of my assignment. The quiet talks, the lunches spent together, the casual invitations to a weekend movie if I didn’t have anything else to do. If I wasn’t mistaken, Lance had a crush on me.
Shit. I hadn’t realized it, because I never thought of him that way. It was fine, I supposed, as long as he knew nothing would come of it. Not on this field trip, certainly. Not ever. I suspected he’d come along to piss off Hennessey more than anything. That was fine too. A little professional competition never hurt anybody.
The raid was tomorrow night. We had planned it down to the minute. Since tomorrow would be a long, exhausting day, we’d all been dismissed early. Go home, get some sleep. Officially the goal was to make sure the agents were well-rested for a raid, not edging toward exhaustion. Unofficially, a grim undertone reminded us that everyone might not make it through.
We maintained every safety protocol from full shields to tight formations on entry, but these situations were always chaotic. Or so I had heard. This would be my first raid.
And hopefully not my last.
Chapter Six
A woman knelt over a flower bed as Lance pulled us up to the curb. The brakes squeaked, and she looked up, raising a gloved hand to shield her eyes from the sun. A slatted straw hat obscured her face, but I got the impression of a slender, graceful form. I stepped out of the car, and Lance did the same, both of us careful to shut our doors softly, the noise barely disturbing the soothing strains of a large wind chime. The white wraparound porch presented a picturesque view of domestic tranquility.
So this was Carlos’s prostitute. Or was she his mistress? Girlfriend? None of the words seemed to fit her. She was pretty in an understated way, not at all the sort of woman I’d imagined consorting with a major criminal. But then, looks could be deceiving. I was a testament to that. She and I both had a petite frame and pale, milky skin that contrasted sharply with thick brown locks. It made men think we were innocent. In both cases, apparently, they were wrong.
The screen door twanged, and a man appeared. Before we could reach Mia Palermo, he stood in front of her. This was in the files too. Her husband. A former FBI agent. Did he know what she’d done? Who she’d done it with? He must have. And yet here he was, standing in front of her, protecting her from unexpected FBI agents. I knew that stance with innate recognition. He’d do anything to keep her safe; he’d take a bullet for her. It was love.
“Ms. Palermo,” Lance began.
“Martinez,” the man corrected, none too kindly. “You can address her as Mrs. Martinez, if I let you address her at all.”
Lance raised an eyebrow. I could tell he was annoyed at the man’s brusque tone, but making the guy mad would get us nowhere.
“Mr. Martinez,” I said. “If you could spare a minute of your time. We’re from the local branch—”
“I know where you’re from. I could smell you a mile away. What I don’t know is why you’re bothering me.”
Bothering her, he meant. His broad shoulders almost blocked her from view. My heart clenched at the show of protectiveness, of possession. What would it feel like to have someone love you like that? To have them know all your worst secrets and want you anyway?
“We’re working the Laguardia case, sir, and it’s vital that we speak with Mrs. Martinez regarding any information she may have on the matter,” Lance said.
I stared at him, a bit surprised that he’d be so insistent when he was so laid back in the office. Then again, this was probably his first piece of fieldwork, even if it wasn’t strictly sanctioned. It made sense he’d want to make the most of it.
“She’s already given a statement,” Martinez said curtly. “Several.”
“The pages on her are mostly blacked out,” I murmured.
Martinez raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze falling on me. “Then you don’t have high enough clearance. So I have to ask again, why are you here?”
I decided to answer honestly. “If things go well, we’re going to confront him soon. I’d like to know what we’re up against, so my partner and I don’t get killed when we do.”
Martinez’s gaze switched back to Lance. He looked him down and then up again, clearly unimpressed. Between the two of us, we weren’t an extremely imposing team. But then, Lance wasn’t really my partner. Hennessey was.
And he’s going to be pissed.
Damn, I wished I weren’t going behind his back like this. I still felt a niggling resentment that he’d turned on me in Brody’s office, that he hadn’t given me a heads up if he’d b
een planning to ferret out information. But it didn’t make sense to berate him for that if I wouldn’t give him the same level of trust.
Martinez sighed, and I could see we’d won him over. Maybe it helped that we were such a ragtag team. We clearly needed all the help we could get.
“Ten minutes,” Martinez said. “So ask the important questions first, because I’m cutting you off a second longer.”
The woman, Mia Martinez, peeked around the man’s shoulder, an amused expression on her face. “Now that you’ve negotiated for my time, could I make one small request?”
Something flickered in Martinez’s face at her words. Negotiated for my time could have a different, darker meaning in Laguardia’s circles. Had she been pimped out? Passed around? If so, it would make sense she’d be sensitive to things being decided for her. But if Martinez regretted his heavy-handedness, he didn’t show it. He’d do anything to keep her safe, I realized, even hurt her.
Martinez murmured for her ears only, but I still heard him say, “You don’t have to talk to them at all, if you don’t want to. I can send them away.”
“No,” she said. “I want to. They should know what they’re going to be facing. But…only the girl. Okay?”
“Done,” Martinez said.
She sent Lance an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal, just that—”
Lance cleared his throat. The tips of his ears turned pink. “You don’t have to explain, Mrs. Martinez. Our goal as agents is to make you comfortable.”
Right out of the student handbook, kids.
Mia led me to a picnic table in their backyard. We left the men up front for what I imagined included a lot of glaring and posturing. In the shade, I got a better look at Mia. She was younger than I’d expected. I pictured the file…she would be twenty-eight, with wide eyes and porcelain skin that hinted at twenty.
But her eyes told a different story. She could have been ancient for all the weary knowledge in her eyes. It was a strange juxtaposition, one I recognized from Hennessey. I wondered how much they had in common. Another pang of guilt hit me. He should be here with me, interviewing her right now. He would know the right questions. Unlike me.
“Mrs. Martinez,” I began.
“Mia,” she corrected. “Please. I’m not so formal among friends.”
She was putting me at ease, and it worked. A slight blush heated my cheeks. She was really far too subtle for a guy like Laguardia, except she’d stayed with him for so many years. And then I knew what to ask.
“How did you meet Laguardia?”
She slanted me a look, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. I kept my expression still and open, because I was sincere. Unlike Hennessey, I wanted to understand the man behind the proverbial Wanted poster.
“He picked me up off the street,” she said finally. “I was young. Too young. He gave me food, clothing. Medical attention. Education. I would have died out there, starved or been beaten to death by a guy three times my age. But he took me in.”
He sounded like a saint. But we both knew better. “And he had sex with you.”
She nodded, unsurprised at the dark turn of the conversation. “He had sex with me. At the time, it seemed fair enough. Like payment. Nothing is free on the streets.”
“You said at the time. How do you see it now?”
“I’m not sure…” Her lips pressed together. “You’ll probably think I’m romanticizing it, and maybe I am, but I felt like we understood each other. It’s not easy, in that life, to open yourself up to someone, to become vulnerable. Even sex isn’t always intimate.”
“But between you it was?” I couldn’t hide the doubt from my voice.
“Between us, everything was intimate. And nothing was. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better. I recognized the same darkness in him as I had in myself.” She paused, twirling a leaf on the knotted wood table. “Did you know my father sexually abused me?”
The question flashed through me, a painful burst of light in the dark, even though I’d known that already. It was hard to imagine that on top of whatever abuse she’d suffered with Carlos. It changed a person, to look evil in the face at so young an age. I should know. But maybe they weren’t so different, flipsides of the same coin. The criminal and the victim. The aggressor and the defenseless. One couldn’t exist without the other.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
“We had that in common.”
Surprise lifted my eyebrows. “You mean Carlos? He was abused?”
A nod. “You know, I’m not saying that as an excuse, either for him or for me. We made our choices. But it leaves its mark on you, even when you think you’re over it. I don’t think he would have been capable of a regular relationship.”
I couldn’t help but ask, softly, “And you?”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “I wouldn’t call my relationship with Tyler conventional. And I still have problems, being…what’s the word? Fatalistic. That’s what Tyler says. I get sort of detached, go through the motions. It drives him crazy, because he wants me to be present, you know? But we work on it together in counseling.”
I tried to imagine the gruff, uncompromising Martinez in a therapy session and failed. But he must have a softer side he showed Mia. That part I could imagine. She had a quiet, nonjudgmental way about her, as if I could tell her anything and she wouldn’t be shocked. And she wouldn’t reject me either. It was seductive in a way that cleavage and hooker boots could never compete with. Carlos Laguardia had more discerning taste than I’d have expected.
She leaned forward. “I’m telling you all this because if you’re going after Laguardia, you have to understand he’s like a dog who’s been kicked too many times before. If you get close, he’s going to lash out at you.”
“I see,” I murmured as an uncomfortable realization settled over me. Laguardia would have every reason to lash out at us. We were going to kick him, figuratively. Literally too, if Hennessey was serious about wanting Laguardia dead.
I remembered watching Lady and the Tramp as a kid, where the dogs ate spaghetti by candlelight and viewed the pound as a jail. There was something chilling in the realization that I was the dogcatcher in this scenario. I was one of the good guys, but only depending on the story. Told from another perspective, I was the villain.
Her eyes grew distant, as if she looked into the past. “The thing about Carlos is that he doesn’t mean well. Whenever possible, he would try to do the wrong thing, the cruel thing. It became a point of pride for him. And then…well, it tore him up inside. It split him into the man and this other type of being. Like an animal, but smarter, more cunning.”
“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
She cocked her head. “Who?”
A flush heated my cheeks. I felt stupid, as if I’d been trying to talk down to her. I knew that she’d dropped out the first year of high school, that she’d run away to escape her father’s abuse. And ran into Carlos instead. She didn’t seem to regret it. Instead, she seemed oddly loyal to him, protective as she warned me away.
Her expression was guileless and curious.
“It’s a play,” I said. “There was this doctor who wanted to find a way to remove the evil parts of man. He experimented on himself, but all he ended up doing was splitting himself into two parts. The good man and the evil one.”
“He can’t be both anymore. One or the other.” A mournful glint entered her eyes. I suspected this was a play she had witnessed not on the stage, but in real life.
I nodded.
“And how did it end?”
“The good doctor grew more and more unstable.” In fact, there was a female character, a prostitute. It felt a little pointed, as if it were about her. And by the end, the evil Mr. Hyde had killed her. In his grief and to protect all others, Dr. Jekyll killed himself. These types of stories often ended in death. I cleared my throat, thinking of a lie. “Then he came up with another potion to put himself back together again.”
That wasn�
�t really the way it ended, and Mia smiled sadly. She wasn’t fooled. She might look sweet and innocent, almost perpetually childlike, but she had seen the worst side of humanity. She’d lived among the Mr. Hydes of the world and somehow escaped to this domestic idyll.
I stared at her with a growing sense of surrealism. We looked alike. Dark hair that shone in the light. Porcelain skin. The similarities ran deeper than that. We both had crazy, fucked up fathers. Only, mine had hurt other children. Hers had hurt her, so looking at her was like an alternate reality version of myself. This was what I’d be if things had been different.
She was beautiful, with an air of contentedness, so it wasn’t a bad option, really. Except things hadn’t always been good for her. Bad things had happened in her past, with her father, on the streets, with Carlos, and I knew that from reading more than her file. All those blacked out lines, those top-secret words. And the past she couldn’t quite forget.
Her eyes held shadows. Hollows in her eyes, empty spaces carved out from moments I could only guess at. Emotional scar tissue, and no amount of her husband’s love or protection could ever erase it completely.
Chapter Seven
By the time Mia and I returned to the front of the house, Lance was conversing seriously with Tyler Martinez. About Carlos, probably. It hadn’t really occurred to me that the ex-agent could have as much valuable insight as Carlos’s former girlfriend. That was smart of Lance. Capable, too, that he’d swayed someone initially hostile to talk to him.
“Did he tell you anything?” I asked on the ride back, looking at his side profile.
He shifted gears as the light turned green. “Not anything we can use. He warned me away. Said Carlos would do things on his own terms. Always has, always will.”
“That’s about what Mia said,” I admitted.
Depressing advice from two people who had been steamrolled by Carlos once upon time. And they’d managed to escape and build new lives for themselves, so they knew what they were talking about.
