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A pause and then, “Well, a press conference where the police mentions our lighters as a prominent piece of evidence, plus a politician’s dead son…it isn’t just going to go away.” His voice is silky and venomous as a snake.
“I have it handled,” I assure him immediately.
“I’m not so sure you do.”
I swallow over a groan. “Don’t insult me. I’ve been your best man for years.”
“Which may be true, but this is taking too long. Time is money, Blackwell. Right now you’re not worth what I’m paying you.”
“I’ve got it covered. I’m not sure what else you want me to say.”
“Not say, but do. Find out what the detective on this case knows and then eliminate the threat.”
The phone clicks and I freeze.
What the fuck does that mean?
But I know. The sick burning sensation in my chest tells me that I know exactly what it means, especially when the phone beeps again and dread fills me. The text comes from a burner phone, a number that sends only names. Names of the hits I’m required to make.
And my body goes numb and my heart cold when I read the name I never thought would cause such a violent reaction in me. At the one name I’d hoped, prayed to an unforgiving god I’d never read.Layla Sinclair.
TWENTY-FOUR
layla
All through myshower at home, I think about Taney.
She died to keep me safe. Someone wanted her mouth closed permanently. When emotion threatens to swamp me, I drop my head to the tiles. If I hadn’t had the press conference today, I’d have gone straight to the club, even though it meant she’d died to warn me for nothing.
Not for nothing.
And lying to myself won’t help.
Really, if I didn’t know deep in my gut that Gabriel is headed to the Velvet Underground, I’d skip the press conference and go myself.
But he will. Without saying anything, he’ll go, and he’ll get answers.
Finally I cut the water off and start mentally and physically preparing myself for the press. I don’t give a shit how my hair looks on an average day but this is different. This reflects on the entire precinct, the chief, and Captain Ashcroft.
It’s time to don the only type of battle armor I’ll be allowed to have.
The woman in the mirror is familiar only in that the shape of the face is the same. My normally golden skin tone has taken on a pale quality, the purple bruising beneath my eyes giving away that I haven’t slept for shit.
If not for Gabriel—
I slam my palm down in the middle of the mirror. Trusting him with anything except my body is a mistake. I’ve got to convince myself of that fact because otherwise…I’m at risk. In more ways than one. And after Taney’s death I’m on the edge of shattering beyond repair.
This is for her, I assure myself as I get dressed.
Closing this case will bring justice not only for her but for all the other poor women mowed down before her.
Thinking of work keeps me centered, grounded, able to push the grief aside enough to make it down to the station. The heels are a little uncomfortable and the arches of my feet ache a bit with each step toward the elevator. A pair of tight black slacks toe the line between business and pleasure, dark eyeliner slicked over my eyelids and my shirt a deep purple.
Shoulders thrust back and spine straight. Professional Layla.
Not a hint of heartbreak on display.
A text from Devan tells me he’s already here. The elevator doors open with a ding and I step out into the hallway leading to the 9th precinct bullpen. Noise and the scent of stale coffee greet me.
