THE SIDESHOW, PART 2
Kayla had worn the ridiculous freak show mask many times, but today, it seemed more stifling than ever before. She could hear Tom's voice in her ear, counting off the minutes, ticking off the time. She was responsible for watching the people in the bank while Carson did his thing with the money. It was part of the jobs she hated the most. The semi-automatic weapon she packed was mostly for show. She knew how to use it, but she didn't think she had ever fired it the entire time the gang had been robbing banks. She carefully walked the perimeter of the bank, slowly sweeping back and forth, waving the gun as she did it. The employees and patrons shrank away from her as she did so, and she felt like a heel. She wanted to tell them she wouldn't hurt them, but she didn't dare speak. Carson did all the talking. Speaking was a big 'no no' in his book. It was an identifier to him. God. She hated this. She hated this so much. She again reminded herself why she was doing this. There was a reason. A good one. And she had to stick to it.
Seconds before Tom's voice commanded them to move, Carson flew toward her. It was time to go. They dashed toward the exits as they normally did. They moved swiftly, but calmly. If they didn't, they risked leaving evidence behind. Tom was an electronics genius, and he had wired their van with some type of gizmo that would automatically open and shut the back doors. As they approached, the doors were open and awaiting them. Carson tossed in the burlap bags of money and the duo jumped inside the vehicle. There was no time to waste. By the time bank personnel summoned the police, they were well on their way back to Tom's house, where they would stow their gear, and divvy up the day's take. It was a set of mundane tasks that they performed after each heist. Carson insisted that they follow the same routine after each job. He was afraid that if they didn't, they would get caught. He wouldn't dare stray from the formula. He would rather die first.
Once she was certain they were lost amongst the mid-afternoon traffic, Kayla didn't hesitate to get rid of the mask. She ripped out the earpiece and left it dangling. For no reason at all, she broke down in tears. This wasn't her first job, of course, but it was the first she had done in several weeks, and she once again felt like a virgin. The stress of the situation had gotten to her, and she was sure she was going to lose her mind before the day was through. She wasn't an idiot; she knew what it was. She was thinking about Frank again. Since he had told her about his profession, she hadn't been sleeping well at night. It wasn't that she was afraid of getting caught or anything like that. It wasn't that she was afraid that Frank was working her case. She was afraid she was hurting him. Hell, she knew she was hurting him. The thing was, he didn't even realize she was hurting him. And the tricky part was, she couldn't let the bastard go. She had been wracking her brain for weeks now, trying to find a way to break up the relationship. She didn't have the guts to do it. Yet, she had to do it. There was no way around it.
After they arrived at Tom's, Kayla left the men to themselves. There were ten members of the gang. Tom and Carson were busily dividing the money equally. It didn't matter that only three of them did the job today, they shared their take evenly regardless who did what on which day. However, she didn't have the heart to join them. She had another mission in mind. She always brought along a change of clothes with her, and she excused herself to take a shower, but she didn't immediately set about that task. Instead, she locked herself inside Tom's bedroom and stared down at her cell phone. She dialed a number from memory and listened to the burring rings.
"Dora? It's Kayla," she said when the phone was picked up after three rings. "Is there any chance I can speak to Brett?"
555
The Sideshow had hit again. Donovan stood in the bank with his arms crossed over his chest. For a brief moment, he couldn't move. The only thing he could make himself do at that moment was stand and brood. Since the ordeal began, he had been doing a hell of a lot of brooding. Just a few minutes prior, he had been walking around, digging into the mess left behind, and interrogating the hell out of several shaken witnesses. Nothing. They knew nothing. All they did know was that their bank had been hit and a little over forty thousand dollars had been taken. No names had been mentioned amongst the two bank robbers, not even an uttered "Falcon." And as was the case with their MO, no one had seen them escape. Where the hell were they parking their getaway vehicle? They just weren't walking away from the scene. He had never felt so confused and ineffectual in his career.
There were others milling about: the police, other FBI agents, and members of the press. However, he wasn't paying attention to them. His mind was still stuck. Central had finally delivered on their promise of other bank videotapes. Almost obsessively, Donovan had studied them, having Cody play parts of them so many times, he complained about finger pain. It was obvious that there were different people at each job, but he was trying his damned best to see something, to find some little shred of evidence to give away their identity. He held onto the hope that Monica's profile of the robbers would hold out. Somebody would make a mistake. They had to. Since there was no group to infiltrate for now, the team was basically sent in to assist their FBI brethren, but that didn't alleviate the pressure any of them were under. None of the leads they had worked to their advantage. Tracking down the sales of the carnival masks had yielded not one viable suspect. Of course, he hadn't expected anything less. Somehow, he had begun to take this assignment personally.
555
Kayla had finished her shower and was lost in her own thoughts when she heard a discreet knock at the door. Figuring it was Carson, she sighed heavily and tightened the towel about her body. She hadn't even gotten a chance to dress yet. Of course, she was a billion miles away. Getting dressed was an action as alien to her right now as standing on her head and barking. She approached the door, disengaged the lock, and swung it open. Her visitor wasn't Carson. It was Tom.
Kayla felt completely underdressed in front of Tom. What the hell did he want? "Do you mind," she asked pointedly. "I'm not dressed yet." She turned away, hoping that he would take the unspoken hint and leave. However, when she turned back around, he was still standing in the doorway. What in the world did I ever see in this jerk? "Where's Carson?"
Tom took a few steps inside the room and allowed his arms to dangle at his sides. Any moment now, she expected him to rake his hand through his long hair. "He left for a minute to dole out the shares and to send a cashiers check to Dora."
His brief mention of Dora immediately brought Brett to mind. She hadn't been able to speak to Brett for very long, but the time had been well worth it. Whenever she thought of Frank, of her betrayal of him, she forced herself to see Brett's face. Once that image was clear, the mission became important again. Yet, it still never failed to depress her. She sighed wearily. "I see." She glanced at her clothing laid out on the bed before focusing her eyes on Tom again. Won't you go away and let me get dressed in peace? "What do you want, Tom? I'd like to get dressed." Take a damned hint already.
"I know you were trying to hide it and all, but I heard you crying in the van," he began.
She rolled a mental set of eyes. Was he trying to comfort her? Dear Lord, give me strength. I don't want to laugh in his face. Tom was a shallow egotist. He didn't care about anyone other than Tom. He had been a lousy boyfriend and she could barely tolerate him as a friend. Actually, she only put up with him because he and Carson got on so famously. If it weren't for her brother, she wouldn't even have him in the gang. "I appreciate your concern," she began, her voice almost taking on a cold edge. "But I don't think it's really any of your business."
He moved another step closer to her. "You've really changed," he said. "This new guy is doing something to you, switching your gears."
She shook her head incredulously. Had he dared to mention Frank? Had he dared to say something about a situation he not only didn't understand, but also didn't have a right to even think about? Who was he to lecture her about her love life? He the consummate cheater. If she hadn't been so pissed off, she might have laughed. Maybe there is something to this praying thing after all. "Tom, my relationships truly aren't any of your business. I would appreciate it if you kept your nose out of it."
Tom took another step toward her. She wanted to retreat in kind, but that would only make him think she was afraid of him. "Kay, I wouldn't have my nose in it if I didn't care. I thought you might give me another chance. No one knows you better than I do, especially not some hotshot stock broker who makes you cry."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he truly telling her she was better suited to him? Was that what she was hearing? Surely not. How she longed to tear into him. But she held back. The thing was, she wasn't good enough for Frank Donovan. She was better suited to a fellow thief. She didn't understand why all of this was so frustrating. Seeing someone, having a relationship, wasn't supposed to feel like this. Of course, her circumstances were a bit different than average. "Tom, if you recall, we tried once. You cheated on me during our entire relationship. Would you please drop the subject and leave me alone? I'm telling you again, Tom, I would like to get dressed and you're keeping me from it."
Tom closed the distance between him and Kayla. Again, she had the desire to back away, to shrink from his touch. And again, she didn't act on that impulse. Instead, she stood her ground as Tom laid his hands on her bare shoulders. "Kay, I say these things because I care about you," he repeated. "I could be so much better for you than this Frank guy. All you have to do is give me another chance. That's all I'm asking."
She grew angrier and angrier. She had the greatest urge to kick him in the groin and then repeat the process on her brother when he returned. Why had Carson left her alone with this ass? He knew Tom. "I said no," she said slowly, severely. "Take your hands off me or you're going to feel my knee between your legs. I mean it, Tom. Don't touch me."
"I don't think you mean it, Kay. I really don't."
The moment the words left his lips, he pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue immediately invading her. She tried to move to give him his promised kick in the groin, but he simply increased the pressure on her shoulders. Vaguely, she wondered if he had touched some kind of nerve inside her, because she was virtually immobile. She was afraid he was going to reach for her towel and strip her naked. Oh, but she would not let that happen. Not in a million years. Struggling mightily now, she managed to free herself from his iron grip. Without hesitating, she kicked out with her leg, but her foot wound up connecting with nothing more than the firm meat of his thigh. She swore under her breath when she missed her intended target. Angered himself now, he drew back and backhanded her across the cheek. One thing was certain about Tom. He knew how to hit to hurt. She backed away from him and touched her cheek. She couldn't see it, but it was already reddening and painful. It would no doubt leave a bruise. Kayla was too angry to cry.
"You bastard," she snarled. "If you ever touch me again, I'll kill you."
"You've changed," he said with a smarmy grin. "Just like I said. You didn't mind my touch before, did you?"
Without incident, he left her. Kayla quickly went to the door and locked it behind him. If he wanted to get back in, she would damn well make him work for it. Part of her wanted to tell Carson. Although a bit of a bastard himself, he loved her, and he wouldn't put up with Tom knowing that he had attacked her. However, another part just wanted to forget the whole thing happened. She could steer clear of him. After all, it wouldn't be her turn to work another job for several more weeks. She was horrified to realize that tears were swiftly streaking her face, falling onto her injured cheek.
555
It was early, but Kayla had lain down anyway. Her cheek and neck hurt like hell. She had taken painkillers for it, but it didn't dull the pain quite like she wanted or expected. Her brother had noticed the mark on her face, of course, but she hadn't told him what really happened. She made up an incredible lie about running into the door at Tom's house. She had unofficially decided to keep the real story to herself. In the long run, she thought that telling the truth would do more harm than good. It might have the potential to break up the gang, and right now, they couldn't do that. They had to stay together for just a little while longer.
She had begun to feel halfway comfortable when she heard the doorbell ring. At first, she ignored it and decided to leave it to Carson. However, she soon remembered that Carson had stepped out to meet Tom and a few other members of the gang. The pain was messing with her, screwing up her memory. Groaning now, she sat up and reached for her robe at the foot of the bed. Shrugging into her robe, and griping all the while, she left the comfort of her bedroom. She approached the front door and stood on tiptoe to peek into the peephole. What's he doing here? What would she tell him about the mark on her face? Lying to Carson was easier than lying to Frank. What are you saying? You've been lying to Frank every day since you met him. She wanted to back away and hit the bed again, but she was certain he could probably see her through the peephole. He wouldn't understand if she didn't answer the door. She once again found herself wondering what he was doing here. Sighing heavily, she stepped back, took hold of the doorknob, and opened the door. The moment she had it open, he noticed the mark on her face.
"Frank, what are you doing here," she asked before he had the chance to open his mouth.
Without waiting for an invitation, he entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. Nonplussed, Kayla moved back a couple of steps. She wanted to turn away from him, but knew it wouldn't do any good. He would only pursue her, turn her back around to face him. He hadn't lied when he told her he was persistent. She kept her eyes averted for a few minutes, but she didn't keep it up. It was an evasive maneuver he would pick apart within nanoseconds. Of all the people she didn't want to deal with tonight, he was absolutely number one on her list.
He had begun the visit innocently enough. He had gone home after a seemingly endless day, and thoughts of her seemed to consume him. His work schedule hadn't allowed him time off to see her for a couple of days. Oddly enough, when he saw her after one of the heists, it always seemed to calm him down. He could never explain it. He wanted to tell her this, this among other things on his mind, but the moment he saw her face, the words dried up in his throat. He wasn't stupid or blind. He had seen enough in his career to know when one person had hit another. Besides, there were clear finger marks on her cheek. She didn't work in the best neighborhood in town, so things could happen.
"Kayla, what happened to your face," he asked when he finally found his voice.
It was stupid of her to assume that he wouldn't say anything. But he would because he cared about her. Of course he would notice, you idiot. At that moment, at her weakest, she wanted to confess everything. She wanted to tell him about the gang, the robberies, about Tom, the works. Yet, she didn't say a word. She was going to spin a lie to him, just as she had spun a lie to her brother. "My clumsiness prevailed again, Frank," she said with a nervous laugh. She was trying hard to make it sound embarrassed, but it didn't work. "I tripped, fell, and smacked into the sharp edge of a desk at work. Hurt like a bitch, but I'm fine."
With any other person, he would let the explanation go and move on to another subject, but not her. She was blatantly protecting him from something. "Desk edges don't leave behind finger marks. Who hit you? Who hurt you, Kayla?"
She gave up. She had to turn around. It wasn't such a smart idea, but there was no way she could face him right now. For no reason at all, she wanted to cry. She wanted to open her mouth and repeat the lie, but she couldn't. He didn't buy it the first time, and he surely wouldn't this time. "Is it okay if I don't want to talk about it?"
He approached her from behind and laid his hands on her shoulders. His nearness made her shiver. "No, it's not okay," he said. "But I won't push." Although he knew she didn't want to face him right now, he turned her toward him. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were shiny and her tears were threatening to spill at any second. "Day or night, you know I'm here for you. You know that, don't you? If you want to tell me, I'll do everything in my power to protect you. Remember that?"
She nodded. "I will."
Kayla wanted him to leave, but she was sure he wouldn't take the unspoken hint. In a way, she was glad he didn't. After a brief moment, she felt his lips claiming hers. Before long, their kiss deepened and he backed her into her bedroom. He worked his hands inside her robe and his large hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples strained against her sleep shirt and the hot flesh of his palms. She moaned against his lips as his hands moved upward to strip away her robe. She felt her body moving backward again and a moment later, the back of her legs connected with the side of her bed. There was a whirlwind of sensation and emotion going on here, and she seemed helpless to stop it.
He broke their consuming kiss and gazed down at her. Her injured cheek stuck out like a brilliant flame and he longed to find the person who hurt her. He would tear that individual apart. His hand came out and rested against her cheek. His thumb traced a very delicate line over the mark that marred her pretty face. "I want to make love to you, but I can see that tonight may not be an ideal time."
"No," she whispered. "It's not. I'm sorry."
He kissed her gently. "Don't be." He took her hand and led her back in the living room toward the front door. He gave her another gentle kiss. "Call me if you need me."
She nodded. "I will."
He let himself out and left Kayla standing. She made up her mind. The next time they were together, she was breaking it off. She couldn't stand this any longer. She had come close…very close…to allowing him to make love to her. She knew that if she allowed that to happen, she would never let him go.
To be continued…