A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated on any of my stories in a few days. I needed the break and things here got a little busy, but I'm back and writing up a storm again before I leave this weekend. Fear not! I shall take my laptop with me and get some much needed writing done. For now, here is a new update on this story that I hope more and more of you like, and more updates on other of my stories will be posted later and tomorrow. Happy reading! :) As always, thank you for being so patient.
Have you ever had one of those sleepless nights that you just have to work yourself out to get a decent night's sleep?
I get those a lot. Now, I know what you're thinking. It must be your conscience for all the fucked up shit you've done. No. It's not. First of all, one thing you gotta know about me is I don't regret all the fucked up shit I've done. With the life I've led… There's no time for regrets.
I just wasn't the type to go out and get drunk when I have sleepless nights. After a few push-ups and a few pull-ups I did go out for a walk. No particular destination until I tucked my hands in inside my jacket pocket and discovered I had Regina Mills' identification still on me.
I realized I would have to take matters into my own hands and keep a close eye on her. Shit, why not? At least I'd see her again. And besides, I knew Robin. His way of 'handling' things wouldn't be following her around, and there was no fucking way I was going to let this asshole even breathe the same air as her. No fucking way.
I sat in my trusty bug (Volkswagen to be exact) the next morning, wearing a pair of my father's sunglasses and his favorite red sox baseball cap. Watching from afar, parked just across the street from her apartment the next morning. My thumb softly banged against my steering wheel as I watched.
She was beautiful, graceful, elegant- too fucking elegant to be living around here if you asked me. Regina had a way about her, and maybe that's what I liked. Here she was, coming out of her apartment building, dressed in a black pencil skirt, matching black heels and light gray silk blouse. She loved expensive things, that was for sure, and I could say that judging by her Mercedes that she was climbing into.
I followed her day to day, and learned that she was jumpy. Who could blame her, right? After the shit we put her through. She showed up for work every day until three o'clock, would drive home, sometimes sit by her window to read. Other days she would put on her workout clothes and go for a run, watching over her shoulder every minute of the day. She would sometimes go to a corner bakery for a light breakfast, near her apartment. Until Saturday morning, she came out carrying a sack of clothes. It was laundry day. So, I followed her.
I decide to enter the laundry wearing nothing but the clothes on my back along with my red leather jacket, my hair still in a messy ponytail, but fuck it. I liked it that way. I wasn't looking to impress her, just watch her.
Of course, I wasn't just going to go in there, sit down and watch her like a creep. I had a strategy. She hadn't seen my face, so that was a plus. There was no way she would know who I was. My mask muffled my voice- another plus. And as far as she knew, I was just another innocent bystander going in to do some laundry. All things to work in my favor.
Mr. Chung's Laundromat was her closest choice. It was better than any other laundromat around this shit hole. Sure, it had some dirty floors, but nothing to get your head spinning about. The bells above his door jingle as I enter, my eyes fall directly at Regina, who was near the washing machines at the end of the establishment, sorting through her clothes. Not even looking up to see who just walked through the door.
"Morning!" Mr. Chung's wife greets me with a kind smile, to which I nod before walking to the coffee stand to pour myself a cup.
I watch the brunette woman again as I stir my coffee, leaving it black. I reach for a random magazine before I walk along to the very back, just three feet away from her and welcome myself to an empty seat. I open the magazine and pretend to read but not before taking a quick sip of my coffee. The other washing and drying machines are rumbling around me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her separating her colored clothes from her whites before she dug through her purse, sighing to herself in frustration.
"Excuse me," I hear her voice which immediately captures my attention, but I remain engraved in this article to which I have no fucking clue what it's about. "Excuse me," she calls again. This time I turn, and our eyes meet. And fuck me, if that didn't turn my stomach in knots.
Did she actually just come up to me? Fuck me. Listen to me, sounding like a fucking school girl.
"I'm sorry." She held up her hands, probably noticing my startled or surprised reaction, a tiny smile stretched across her lips, which we were ruby red. They were always ruby red. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but… Do you have two quarters?"
"What?" I blink. What the fuck? Was I going deaf now?
"Two quarters," she repeats to me, smiling and looking over at the machine. "I'm afraid I'm a little short."
"Um," I stand, setting the magazine down on the chair I had been occupying to actually feel around my jacket and jeans for some change. I dig my hand inside the right pocket of my jeans and pull out a single penny.
Her face falls, and in that moment so does mine.
"Sorry, I guess I don't." I say, holding up the penny with an apologetic look on my face.
She nods in understanding, "I'm sorry to have troubled you." She gives me a small smile, which I find endearing.
"It's alright," is all I can reply before reaching for my magazine and taking my seat, pretending to read again.
I watch out of the corner of my eye again and I see her place her colored clothes inside the bag again, shaking her head and mumbling something to herself that I can't quite make out. As I flip the page to the magazine- for simple effect- I watch as her hands stop, hovering just above her white shirt from her white laundry pile. My ears perk up to the sound of her breath hitching, catching inside her throat. I dare to look over, my head turning slowly and I can see her bottom lip trembling as well as her hands. As I took a quick glance at the shirt from where I'm sitting, I could spot a speck of blood, maybe two.
My mind automatically goes back to the day of the robbery, and I could remember Robin beating the crap out of a guy in a suit, hitting him repeatedly until the same specks of blood appeared on her shirt while she laid face down on the ground, trembling in fear.
Suddenly, I feel like an asshole. And that never happens.
Watching her tremble like that, it made me want to reach out and… Do what? Hug her? Hold her and tell her it was all going to be okay? How ironic that would fucking be.
Now, I've never been a sucker for tears. I've never even cried over anything in my life. But to see a single tear fall from this woman's cheek, it made me do something that I called myself an idiot for that entire day.
"Excuse me," I called out, and not only did I call it out in the most gentle tone of voice possible, but I actually stood up from my chair and walked over to her. Told you. Fucking idiot.
"Are you okay?" I asked once her eyes looked into mine again, her head quickly shaking and her hands quickly wiping away her fallen tears.
"Yes- no, I…" she nodded, chuckling to herself no doubt. "I'm sorry. I'm fine." She was not.
"Are you sure? Because… You know you're crying," I feel my brow knit, a small smirk form on my lips at the sound of her chuckle escaping her.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just…" She breathed out a long sharp breath, her eyes falling on her bloodied shirt.
My eyes glanced down, gaining a better look at the specks of blood on her shirt, and suddenly my heart beat fast inside my chest. Fucking Robin.
"Oh, wow," apparently I continued to talk. "Are you an ax murderer?" I whisper, attempting to make a joke to simply catch sight of that laugh of hers again.
It works. She doesn't laugh, but she chuckles, and that was good enough for me to hear.
"You know I can help you bury that body- you just say the word."
She chuckles again, this time shaking her head and her tiny smile is gone. "No, I…" She looks into my eyes. "I was in a really bad incident."
"Incident?" I ask, acting clueless.
"The bank where I work, um, it was robbed just last week and," she sighs. "I'm afraid I'm still a little jumpy."
"Is that your blood?" I frown as I ask this, glancing down at the red specks on her white shirt.
"No, it's my co-workers. One of the men nearly beat him within an inch of his life, and-" she shakes her head, brushing away more fallen tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, no- it's okay," I lean in, my hand placing itself on her shoulder in comfort. Yeah, go ahead and call me a fucking idiot. I know I was, and I still couldn't figure out why I couldn't just go on without listening to her sob story, even if I knew it. Without wanting to give her comfort.
Jesus, am I glad my father was in jail. He would frown at this action. I know it.
"You know what I like to do when I'm feeling low about a shit day I've had?" There I went again, and I couldn't look away from her fucking brown eyes. "I like to go to the nail salon."
"The nail salon?" She chuckled and I considered it another victory.
"Yeah," the corner of my lip tilts into a tiny smirk that matches hers. "You wouldn't think of it, but those girls really know how to listen. They are a good shoulder to cry on, trust me."
"You don't say?" She chuckles again.
"Sure. You know, you like the laundry place to have a good cry, that's okay," I smile as she finally laughs. "I respect that, but, you ever want to have a good cry, go to the nail salon."
Regina laughs, wiping away at more fallen tears before she looks at me. "I can't imagine what you must think of me," she said. "I do apologize, I've just had a very tough week."
I frown, but force a smile as soon as her eyes meet mine again. Now, you want to talk fucking stupid? This is what I do next.
"Hey," I speak in a soft voice again. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink? You know, make up for letting you down with the quarters… Let's see if we can't turn your week around." I smile as she does.
She looks at me, her eyes piercing mine and my heart beats like a fucking tribe drum. What the fuck? Really. This never happened to me before. But, I didn't want it explained to me either. To be honest, I just wanted her to say yes.
"A drink?" Her brow arched, and I gotta tell you. It was the sexiest thing I'd seen all day.
"Yeah," I nod and wait for an answer.
She chuckles, brushing back a strand of her hair right behind her ear. She was tempted.
"And how do you know I'm not a married woman?" She asked me, playing hard to get.
"Well, there's no ring on your finger," I shrug. "Which, you could have taken off, that's true, but if you had, that would mean that either you are recently divorced or unhappy in your marriage. In which case, you would have the mark of the band on your finger, which you don't, so… And, you have most definitely been checking me out the entire time we've been standing here talking."
Okay, blunt move, but I decided to jump in with a little tease, which judging by the laugh that escapes her, she was fine with it.
"Oh," she laughs some more, and I can't take my eyes off of her smile. "I have, have I?"
"Yeah," I chuckle, the corner of my lip tilting up into a smirk. "So, I guess that only leaves you with one option."
"I could always say no." She teases, smirking back at me.
"Okay, two options." I nod, looking defeated and she laughs. "Come on…" I shrug with a tiny smirk, "What's the worst that could happen?"
As our eyes meet, she smiles at me. And you know how they say when you just click with someone, you can see everything happening in slow motion? Yeah. That was fucking me.
Going in on a drug bust was never fun. It was exhausting. But, we were scouting around Charlestown for any information on these low-lifes that robbed the bank, I figured one of these druggies had to know something. That was my main priority, however in the meantime, what was wrong with busting a few others? All in a day's work.
"FBI!" I shout, running straight after a meth-head that rushed his way out of his couch and tried making a run for it. Agent Fa and I run right in. She has her weapon on aim while I run after our meth-head friend.
He grunts as I am able to grab a fistful of his dirty shirt, feeling the material rip as I yank harder, pinning him down against his glass table which has all the evidence of pot and some coke smeared all over the dirty glass.
I struggle with him to hold him down, choosing to slam him down face first against the glass of the table. He grunts, but doesn't give up. I can see his hand reaching from underneath the couch in search of something.
"Fucking cops! Get off of him!" A woman runs out of a corner bedroom, holding something round and made out of glass in her hand that I can't quite make out. Suddenly, I see Fa stretch out her arm, delivering a strike to the woman's face, knocking her down on the ground.
My junkie friend slips from under me, my foot meets his hand as I see his weapon come up trying to shoot me. It slams so hard against the glass table, the glass smashes all over the place in tiny crystal pieces. I run right after him as he makes a run for it, aiming for the back door to escape. I run faster with a grunt of my own and a bead of sweat dripping off my temple. My body slams so hard against his, he slams hard against the door, the glass cracks.
He's down, I'm towering over him and decide to take the butt of my shotgun and ram it into his gut with such force, he is left hunched over and coughing, while I stand there trying to catch my breath.
"Jesus Christ, Mulan!" I breath out hard, my eyes looking all over the dirty kitchen. "Oxy, guns… It's like Townie Christmas." I smirk, glaring down at my junkie friend before pulling him up by his arm, quickly handcuffing him. "Let's have a little talk," I murmur, guiding him through his kitchen and dropping him down on his knees onto the floor of the living room, while Mulan has the girl handcuffed and sitting on a chair by a wall.
"Now," I place the shotgun down, and look into his eyes, bending at the knees to his eye level. "Minimum Federal Sentencing, ten years." I whistle for effect, "You're gonna need a friend." I turn to the handcuffed girl, "She's not it." I turn back to him with a smirk stretched across my lips in the form of a taunt. "Great girl, though. She really loves you, I can tell. Good news for you is you have an alibi for the Cambridge job. The good news for me is I bet you know something about it."
After a minute of silence, he says, "Everyone does trucks. These four, they beat the alarm for the vault."
"Yeah?" I cock my brow as well as my head.
"That's what I heard. This kid goes in and does the job."
"And who's the mastermind in all of this, huh? Who's the guy?" I hear him chuckle, his blue eyes looking right into mine.
"Guy?" He laughs this time, shaking his head.
"What's so funny?" I snarl.
"You really think this group is run by another run-in-the-mill guy? Look further, detective. This isn't a guy you're looking for."
A woman? I exchange looks with Fa and it's then that I know she is thinking the same thing as me.