Bianca straightened her hat. "Do I look okay?" she asked her roommate. The knit cap brought out the green tones that surrounded her pupils.

"What, you got a breakfast date or something?" Nadia asked, straightening the pale blue button-up and past-the-knee black pencil skirt she wore. Her fluffy honey-blond hair was up in a top-knot, and her makeup was tasteful, but alluring, purple shades of powder around her eyes defining the honey shades of her brown eyes.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you did, too," Bianca replied, smacking her best friend in the shoulder. The hour was very early. They knew their friends and protectors, the brothers across the hall, would not be up for a while.

Or at least, they hoped so.

The morning after St. Patrick's Day was always hellish to the girls. Their love of tequila shots always bit them in the backside. They did not, however, expect what they heard across the hall.

"Freeze, you fucking Irish faggots!"

It was Ivan Checkov, the thug from the bar. From the sound of things, he was retaliating against the brothers for what had occurred in the bar. Nadia and Bianca, not knowing how to react, hid against the wall, on either side of their doorway, watching for possible assailants. This took only a few seconds, but in their focus, they completely missed what happened.

Then, two of the Russian thugs – Ivan and the darker-haired intimidator – led Murphy from the boys' loft. Nadia, who had a massive headache but had remedied herself (partway) with an aspirin and a tall glass of water, could not refrain from gasping. Bianca held a finger to her own lips, ordering that her best friend remain silent.

Nadia nodded in acknowledgement. Neither would handle losing another sister-friend very well, and the boys would feel the worst of the sting.

We will wait this out, Bianca mouthed to her best friend. If the boys need our help, we help. Another nod from Nadia and the two settled in for a long wait.

They didn't need to wait long.

By the time Bianca realized what Connor was doing, it was already too late. She could not, and would not, get between this Irishman and his objective – between Connor McManus and protecting his brother.

It was days like this that Bianca was sure Connor was the older of the twins, despite the fact that their mother refused to tell them. It was the protective instinct Connor had, reminding her of her own older brother.

"How much longer should we wait, Bee?" Nadia asked in a hushed tone. "My boss will kill me if I'm even a second late."

"So will mine, Dee," Bianca replied. "We just have to let Connor do his thing, let them get away, and then get out ourselves."

"What do you mean, 'get away?'"

As if you don't know, Bianca thought. "Connor has the protective instinct, like an Alpha wolf for his pack, where we and his brother are concerned. He won't let someone tormenting his family live very long."

"Oh."

Six Hours Later

Bianca checked her watch as she straightened the row of clothes. Her boss, a formidable woman with a stern face and steel-grey hair by the name of Mrs. Alice Walter, watched her with scrutinizing pale green eyes. She was already on a sort of probation, having been late to work four times in three weeks, and every move she made was watched.

"Got somewhere to be?" James, her only coworker on the shift, asked as he refolded a pair of jeans.

"Sort of. Mrs. Walter will never let me go early, though, and you know it." She replaced the pair of crescent moon dangle earrings in their proper places on the silver rack. "Especially considering I got here an hour late."

"Yeah, that's true," James said.

The door opened, the small bell chiming a cheery sound through the shop, as Doc came into the boutique. Bianca approached him, grinning.

"Hey, Doc," she said cheerfully. "Finally taking my suggestion to test some colognes?"

"Th-th-that's nice, but I need to t-t-talk to you," he replied.

"Let's go through the charade for Mrs. Walter, though – not supposed to socialize on the job." She led him over to the fragrance wall, pulling out a few different sample bottles of cologne. "Take your pick."

Doc picked up one of the bottles, his hand shaking. "Th-the boys are in t-t-t-trouble."

"You can't be serious," Bianca replied. "They never do anything that could cause that, unless you count last night's bar-fight…"

"I th-think that's what st-st-st-started this. Fuck! Ass!"

Just in time, Bianca reached for the stereo controls, turning up the volume of the rough rock song. Mrs. Walter stood in front of three speakers, making her the victim of a sound blast.

"…take a little note

To remind you in case you didn't know

Tell yourself I love you and I don't want you to go…"

"Doc, I know you're stressed, but Mrs. Walter hates swearing," she said. The old bartender nodded, sniffing the spray nozzle. "I know what you're talking about now – they were acting in self-defense! How could they be in trouble for that?"

Doc nodded. "The-the-the cops know you're their n-n-n-neighbors."

"How?"

"A p-previous incident."

Bianca frowned. They knew because of Cami.

"They want to talk to us?"

"Yes."

"Great."

The two stood there in an uncomfortable silence before Doc said, "I th-th-think I'll get this f-f-for one of the boys," holding up a black-and-gold-labeled glass bottle of cologne.

"Oh, good. You want it gift-wrapped?"

"S-s-sure."

"I'll take care of that right away for you."

One Hour Later

Bianca and Nadia stood outside the imposing building that was the Boston Police Department, arms linked, looking up at the windows nervously.

"The last time we were here, we were trying to convince the chief that we acted in self-defense," Nadia said softly.

"Yeah," Bianca replied, "but this time we're going in to talk about Connor and Murphy's innocence. They didn't plan to kill the Russians."

So, they climbed the steps and entered the office, which was abuzz with ringing phones, chattering voices, and one loud voice that stood out with its consistent swearing and boisterous quality.

"This can't be true," Detective David Greenly insisted loudly. "These two, they wouldn't do this kinda shit, y'know? They just aren't killers! We're barkin' up the wrong fuckin' tree, that's what I say."

"Oh, David!" Nadia called over the noise. Everyone went silent as Greenly turned around, meeting her golden eyes. "That's what you said about me and Bianca, and we wouldn't be standing here if that were the truth."

One man, shorter than most of the officers, wearing a business-like suit with his longer, dusky blond hair slicked back, came and greeted them, extending his hand.

"Special Agent Paul Smecker, ladies," he said, incredibly professional. "Please, come with me."

After an hour of advocating Connor and Murphy's good qualities, the conversation turned to Bianca and Nadia.

"Now," Agent Smecker said, flicking the ashes off of his cigarette, "you should be aware that I read your file. It was rather thick for two unassuming young ladies from Pennsylvania. How is it that you two know how to use knives and other weapons?"

"Resourcefulness and necessity," Bianca said. "It was actually Cameron's idea that we learn self-defense, when we first made plans to move here, a few years ago. We enrolled in whatever martial arts classes would take us, and then started to apply our color-guard training to the practices."

"Yeah, and after a while we started learning how to use our knives, and proper techniques for subduing an opponent. We're actually quite lethal if we need to be," Nadia added.

"It's incredible. Detective Greenly seems to enjoy the two of you, quite a lot," the FBI agent said, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"He's like our best friend. He helped us deal with Cameron…"

"Y'know," the agent said, setting down the cigarette, "your names looked familiar on paper. Why would that be?"

Nadia and Bianca shared a look, before Bianca spoke. "Please don't let that information go public. We've tried so hard to cultivate a life here. We just want to have a life outside of our parents' influence, and out of the public eye."

"I get it. Freedom. It's enticing."

After another few minutes, the girls were let loose. But they didn't leave. Instead, they sat on the steps, waiting…

Please review! I love comments! Lyrics in the middle of the chapter courtesy of Mr. George Strait, from his song Write This Down, which is a favorite of mine.

Much love,

xHx