Wilhelmina Maddox

Kerry helped her attach a thigh holster under her skirt, the velcro scratching her skin. She couldn't help her twitching fingers as she adjusted the straps to her dress. "I'm nervous," she admitted.

"I don't blame you," Ally pulled at the hem of her dress to help conceal the bulge of the weapon. "I'm not sure how thorough they'll be with their search. You sure you don't want to risk a wire? In case…"

In case things go wrong and there'll at least be some evidence as to what went down. "Yeah, I'm sure. Remember, I'm armed. We'll be in public. And there's Hoffman."

"Yeah." Ally tried to smile but couldn't quite get there. "Will," she took her wrist and gave her a squeeze. "Be careful out there."

Will nodded and left the locker room. Normally, during an undercover sting like this, the guys would whistle and throw some playful remarks, for irony's sake, at seeing one of their own in a ridiculous costume. She stepped out, hooker heels tall and her red dress tight. Everyone stood around with arms folded and stiff frowns painted on.

Tapp looked her up and down, nodding in begrudging approval. "You'll need a coat. It's cold out there."

Perez provided something long and warm, the thick black wool covering her calves.

Peter Strahm approached with his arms folded, eyebrows furrowed. "Remember. Appeal to his ego when he begins showing hostile behavior. But maintain a distance to keep him interested. And even though we won't have it on record, try to get as much intel as you can."

She nodded and he put a hand on her shoulder. "Stay on your toes."

Kerry drove her back to their apartment, now with the task force in separate vehicles and positioned at every corner of the block. She had been running on non stop adrenaline rushes since the day began, her knee bouncing as she sat in the car seat. The various tips of her colleagues echoed in her mind.

"Keep him in your view."

"Stay on his good side."

"Don't show fear."

Was this it? She tried not to think about it, but the harsh fact that she could die that night was like a terrible fog swallowing her up. It wasn't an ideal way to go, by any means. She wanted Rosello behind bars and many others like him before she finally kicked the bucket.

"We'll get him, Ally. I'm not sure about tonight. But I'll figure something out." Her friend didn't reply and instead, put on the radio. The traffic report droned on.
Once they reached their destination, she got out of the car. No sooner had she stepped out than the familiar black limo pulled up behind their car, the driver fast with patting her down and opening the back door for her. He let her keep her all weapons, from the guns attached to her thigh to the one in her purse. Even the mace was allowed to stay. Will waved a farewell to her roommate who nodded back with as much a brave face as she could muster.

She slid in, her partner on the driver's side of the bench seat. Mark looked straight ahead, barely acknowledging her entrance. They were immersed in a typically luxurious interior. Leather seats, a small television, and a minibar greeted her. The smell of car leather, cigar smoke, and cologne wafted through.

Sitting across from her, the great round blob of a creature, grinned back at her. "'Evening, Red." She couldn't tell when his pupils ended and his irises began. He either was high or just a soulless beast. She knew it was the latter.

She smiled back at the grease slicked hair and freshly shaven face. "Mr. Rosello."

"Please. Call me Toni when we're out here like this." His eyes glittered and invaded her space with hunger. "You look nice. Real nice."

"You clean up rather well yourself," she spoke, though he always leaned towards formal attire whenever she came across him.

Her eyes scanned the area and landed on Mark. "Did I miss any interesting conversation?" She was noticing how white his knuckles were, held in his lap. He was dressed in a dinner jacket, looking ready to eat a bear.

Rosello smirked. "Oh, don't worry. He hasn't given me grief for tonight. Which means you've either told him in advance or I'm in real trouble."

"Guess you'll have to wait and find out which it is," she felt uncertain if she was making the right impression, so she opted to take her coat off. "It's a bit warm in here," she fanned herself, though she wasn't remotely sweating.

Black beady eyes swept from her neck to her exposed shoulders, making her internalize the shiver that almost broke through. She kept her red lips upturned and batted her lashes a bit, hoping she could sell the night on mostly her physical appeal alone. It was a lot easier to sit back and look pretty than pull the guy's interest with her wit. She wanted to hold back, in case she really needed it to keep Hoffman from going off the deep end. He had shifted in his seat, suddenly fascinated by something out the window, jaw muscles twitching.

The mobster didn't offer to reduce the heat, confirming that he was enjoying the wholesome peepshow she was giving him. Looking out her window, she admired the passing city lights and gardens, noting they were heading towards the upper crust of the city that was way outside her literal paygrade.

Despite her nerves earlier, seeing the many people out and about as well as the very public venue he was taking her to, helped. A little.

"Relax, Red," Rosello had proceeded to pour her a drink. "Here, this should calm your nerves."

She had carefully observed him pour the drink and waited for him to pour himself one. Before he took a sip of his she calmly demanded, "Let's switch drinks."

Amused, Rosello complied, but upon exchanging crystal tumblers his fingers grazed hers. She couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the obvious intentional contact but all that was returned to her were dancing eyebrows as he heartily emptied his glass. "Shouldn't you offer Hoffman one?"

"Oh, I'm sure your bodyguard should stay sober tonight. Don't want to make you feel like I'm taking advantage."

Conversation felt stunted and awkward until they finally pulled up to their next destination. The chauffeur had proceeded to hold the door open for all three of them, Will returning into the warmth of her coat while shivering and gravitating towards Hoffman's direction.

"Shall we?" Rosello had held out his arm, patiently waiting for her. She nodded and took the thick and mushy elbow, keeping her eyes cheery and her mouth upturned.
He guided her through the doors, pulling her into a dark room with smells of exotic spices and rich meats. Despite them, her stomach felt like a bee was buzzing inside.

The sudden loss of light made her on high alert, blinking quickly to adjust to the loss of visibility.

The host greeted them with a wide smile and led them to their dining area, in a private room far from the majority of the patrons.

Hoffman, who had only been a shadow in the corner of her eye, had fallen back. She whirled to catch him standing at the archway that separated the external room, hand gripping his wrist in front of him.

He seemed to intensely admire the golden sconces. Violently.

"It's nice to have some privacy, don't it? Makes things more intimate." Rosello's voice pulled at her face like a slimy verbal tentacle.

"I like how quiet it is. Makes it easier to talk." She flashed her teeth and let him hold her seat for her at the large square table. Seats adjacent to them remained empty. He sat across from her, snapping his fingers for the waiters to arrive to pour their drinks.

"Exactly. Let's get to know each other better."

She had taken a shaky drink of her water, the ice rattling against the glass. Shit. She felt his eyes capture the tremor with disdain. Strahm's warning echoed in her memory. Don't show fear. "What's there to get? You seem the kind of man who does their research. Thoroughly."

He giggled, the hyena pleased. "You know what they say."

"And what's that?"

"You'll never know a person until you climb into their skin and walk." The hyena bark came out as he howled at his own joke.

She leaned into her backrest, sighing. If there is a God, give me strength. "I'll spare you the trouble. Under all this skin we're the same."

The beady black eyes narrowed. "Oh, we're quite different, Red. Don't try to flatter yourself."

Empathy not working. Abort. "Have I done something to offend you tonight, Toni?"

"Not particularly. But I appreciate honesty in a relationship. I'm aware that you don't find yourself quite on the same level of perspective as I am."

"Care to enlighten me?"

The server arrived to pour the wine and she took the glass. Rosello held his glass up. "In time. A toast. To the future. To us."

She drank, not sure what exactly he was alluding to then continued their train of thought. "If, by perspective, you mean how we value human life, then perhaps that's where we diverge."

"Diverge. Cute. But that would suggest we were once walking the same path. I never knew we overlapped. But I appreciate you trying to 'connect' with me, Red. Is that what that federal shrink told you to try on me?"

Her eyes widened briefly but she regained her composure. "I'm just making an effort here. Go easy on me. Isn't this a date?" She leaned forward, his eyes falling down to her chest and she smiled with newfound fire. Gotcha.

"It takes two to tango, Red. I'll play nice if you will." He brought a hand up to brush a stray curl from her forehead. She kept her face still despite the urge to flinch.

Hoffman, in her line of sight, was a boulder at the archway. He seemed to tighten the grip of his wrist in front of him, thick lips pulled back in the faintest snarl. He stared at the two of them with venom.

"Toni," she lowered her voice and studied the mobster's face. She could see the pores on his nose and the yellowing cracks of his teeth. "Why me?"

The shark looked like he was about to dine on a sushi buffet. "You're brave. Cute. I like that in a woman."

If it had been anyone else to compliment her, she would have been touched. But coming from him, it had been akin to being told she was a doll in the toy store he had to have because they had the fiercest outfit. He was collecting her. Like all the other victims.

"I'm flattered. I didn't know you'd have a soft spot," she reached and put a hand over the predator's wrist. She always wondered how the beautiful trophy wife could lean into flirting with someone way below their league. It surprised her to find it was quite easy.

"By the end of tonight, I'll show you a couple of other spots you didn't know I'd have."

She forcefully restrained her spine from shuttering in repulsive terror. "Let's start slow. Dine me first."

"After dinner, that's fair. Can't make a life-changing decision on an empty stomach my zietta always says."

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant about life-changing but the first course had arrived. Olives, cured meats, cheeses, and spreads were placed before them. The shark began to feed with greedy gobbling while she cautiously picked at the meal.

She occasionally stole glances at her partner who had remained as stoic and motionless as a gargoyle petrified in his rage.

Her wine glass had not been permitted to be empty as the diligent servers kept pouring her fresh glasses so she began nursing with false sips while Rosello continued to consume like a black hole trying to prove its supremacy.

"I like this, Red. Sitting here, you by my side. I can see this happening for a good long while."

She kept smiling but hoped her silence was seen as a respectful gesture and not her struggling to continue the charade. She felt tired.

"What would you say, imagining us having meals like this more often."

"So far, I'm open to the idea." She was floundering with faint ideas of how to tow the conversation onto him incriminating himself. And then it struck her. "I don't know how realistic it would be, though."

"Why not?"

"Our businesses clash."

"Ah, good point. Well, you know my ways of making your business go away."

"I'm not dirty, Rosello."

"Not yet. But I'll get you on my level soon enough. I've got what you want." Rosello looked over at Hoffman with a sneer. "And you've already proved you'll walk through the mud for this oaf."

"He's not an oaf," she snapped before she could pull the words back into her mouth. She bit her lip but the damage had been dealt.

The shark was on high alert, watching her with reproach. "What is he, then?"

"My partner."

Rosello swiped his arm across the table, throwing the plates and cutlery onto the floor. The shattering of ceramic made her wince. "Aaank. Wrong, Red. He's more than that. At least, nowadays he is." The barrel of a Smith and Wesson stared back at her, Rosello pulling the hammer back with his thumb.

"What's the meaning of this?" Will forced her voice to remain calm but it felt as though a fist was around her throat and it was beginning to squeeze tight.

"Tired of you not being completely honest, Red."

"About what?"

"You. And him." Rosello kept his eyes trained on her, looking at ease. "Have the decency of being forthright with me here. I ain't a dummy. So don't try to give me those sweet little lies by omission you seem real fond of trying."

Her wrists were resting on the corner of the table. She slowly reached for her surviving wine glass and took a long, healthy drink. Finally, she declared, "you're insane."

Rosello giggled. "Finally. If this is what it takes to make you candid, then this is how it'll be. And don't even think about it, Markie-boy," Rosello pressed the revolver into Will's temple, the cool metal digging into her skin with a sting. "I want you to slowly walk over here with your gun and put it on the table close to me. You, too, Red. And have a seat, Markie." Rosello narrowed his eyes, his obsidian irises glinting. "I want to play a game."

Mark Hoffman

The blood had drained from his face but he maintained his composure. He slowly removed the rounds from his weapon and gave it to Rosello. In pieces, so he wouldn't easily use it on them.

He had a few backups on him. One on his ankle. Another attached around his shoulders. The one at his hip had to be sacrificed but he was bulky enough and his suit was draped to hopefully let Rosello not pay attention to the remainder.

He was counting on the bastard having a freakout. The lines of coke he had snorted before Will had arrived tipped him off that this was going to be one hell of a night. This sudden shift to violent chaos brought a serene calmness over him, a soothing break from having to stomach watching the bastard touch her. But only for a moment.

Rosello pointing a gun to Will's head was only a slight improvement to him drooling over her tits.

She had taken out her small pistol and placed it on the table, pushed to Rosello's side. In her small red dress, she looked vulnerable and shaken. The yellow mood lighting of the restaurant made her look jaundiced. Hell, this was the most scared he had ever seen her. He wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright.

"What kind of game?" Will's voice had gone low and gentle, as though soothing a child in a tantrum.

"Truth or Dare?"

"How old are you? Twelve?" Hoffman jeered, no longer holding himself back. Rosello's eyes snapped to him and with one swift movement, he backhanded Will across the cheek with his gun. Hoffman jumped to his feet and Rosello shot a round in the air before returning it to Will's head. The restaurant's ambiance had shattered with the screams of nearby patrons. A waiter had been entering the room to provide their next course but had quickly turned around and walked away as if he had forgotten something. Coward. Hoffman couldn't blame him but he only hoped backup would arrive sooner than later.

"You're pushing, Markie. And now you've gotten her hurt."

Will spat blood, her cheek swelling asymmetrically. "I'm fine," she snapped with renewed fury, her words already muffled with pain. "Don't worry."

"You both should worry. This version of T and D is going to be judged by yours truly. I'm going to ask Truths I know for a fact are true or false and the dares, you just gotta do. Pretty straightforward, even Markie-boy can't fuck it up. Now. Let's start. Markie. Truth or Dare. If you don't follow the rules, I'll blast her to pieces. One ear at a time. And keep your hands on the table. Both of you."

The weight of the situation began to press its leaden foot deep into his chest. He curled his hands into fists as they rested on the tabletop, some spilled food sticking to his skin.

Truth would have been his first choice, had it not been for all the dirt Rosello had on him. "Dare."

Rosello let out a triumphant laugh. "I dare you. To deck Will. Like you mean it."

"No," he growled but Rosello shook his head with euphoric glee.

"I have the power. It's either a fist to her face or a bullet. Your choice, but I believe she'd heal from the fist."

"It's fine," Will looked up at him. "Won't be the first time I took a punch."

"And don't hold back. I'll know."

Hoffman shook his head again. "No. I'll take Truth."

"No takebacks, Markie-boy. That wasn't part of the rules. Now, on your feet."

"I could kill her," Hoffman muttered, hoping with foolish desperation that Rosello would stop this to protect her. "I could seriously hurt her."
"I gave you a choice. You chose this. You have on the count of three. One."

Hoffman got to his feet, looking down at Will whose eyes had gotten wide. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"Two."

He threw his fist back and sent it towards her, aiming for the hardest part of the skull. Her forehead. Every moment felt as though it had slowed down, despite his desire to have gotten it done and over with. His knuckles dug into the skin of her forehead and pain shot up his wrist. He had tried to minimize the damage by striking her with as open of a fist as he could sneak by, the pain shooting up his arm and his fingers. Fuck.

She had not escaped unscathed. Her head flung back and she fell out of her chair, delirious. "Fuck," she groaned to his relief. She'd be fine.

"Damn, Red. I guess this explains how you stuck around with Griffin for so long. You sure can take a punch. Sit down, Markie."

Hoffman collapsed into his chair, looking at the floor with only contempt grinding in his teeth. He felt like a fucking monster.

"Now," the persistent snapping of fingers forced him to look at their torturer who seemed bored. "I need you both attentive, otherwise the game will get boring. Come on, Red. Back in your chair, now."

She was struggling to pull herself up, the straps to her dress falling down and revealing bruising skin and scrapes on her chin. "Sorry, Toni," she spat again, her teeth as bright scarlet as her smudged lipstick. Her nose was bleeding and dripping liquid crimson onto the pale skin of her chest and dress. Hell, her eyes looked like they're bleeding. She locked eyes with Hoffman and but he had to look away. He felt nothing but disgust for himself. "Good call getting Hoffman to throw the punch. You'd never be able to hit me like that."

Rosello's giddy gasps in between the background noise of people fleeing the scene in shuffling panicked footsteps filled their pause as Will coughed and wiped at her nose. "You," Rosello was wheezing, "are one fun broad."

"I've got nothing to lose, now. So my turn. I choose Truth."

"Oh, no fun. Fine." Rosello pulled the gun away to scratch his head with the barrel. Hoffman cursed himself for not immediately tackling the man as he swiftly trained it onto Hoffman now. "Fine. Are you wearing a wire?"

"No."

Rosello squawked the cheap imitation of a buzzer. "That's a lie."

"No it's not!" She jumped to her feet, patting herself down. "You had me searched. No wire."

"Well, I was implying underwire." Rosello put his finger on the trigger. Hoffman shut his eyes tightly, embracing the darkness.

"Stop! I'm not wearing that either."

"You going to prove it?"

A small, disbelieving laugh from her. A delay. "Is this your way of getting me to take my clothes off?" Despite it all, she sounded incredulous. The sound of a zipper forced Hoffman to open his eyes.

What the fuck.

She had taken her dress off and let it fall to her ankles with a plop. Had the circumstances been different, he would have thought he'd won the lottery. But it was some warped, drug-induced nightmare. She turned in a circle, draped in revealing, but practical, underwear and his most hated enemy eyefucked her as she showcased her anatomy. "See?" She went to retrieve her flimsy clothes. "No wires. Not even with the bra."

"Oh, don't put it all away, honey," Rosello whined as she put her clothes back on. "Fine. Hoffman gets to survive round one. Damn." Rosello pulled the gun back to Will. "Truth or Dare."

"Truth." Hoffman needed another chance to take out Rosello. A shift in attention. Something. But the man was hyperfocused. The blob was clenching his teeth, rolling on the high of being God to them. And he was raising his magnifying glass over the ants to watch them burn.

Triumph. It radiated off the mobster and Hoffman already knew what the question would be. "Who killed Frank Griffin?"

The air felt cold and thin.

Hoffman swallowed and avoided Will's face. "No one."

"Liar." Rosello got to his feet and shifted over to Will, grabbing a fistful of her curls and pressing the gun to her temple. "Now you're going to watch as Will bleeds out a new hole."

"It's the truth." Hoffman didn't back down and Rosello, for once, looked less hyper and more fascinated.

"I ordered you to kill Griffin. You said you did it."

"I don't follow all your orders. And I was lying then."

"Then where is he?"

"Not the game."

"I decide what is the game," Rosello's fingers were running up Will's cheeks, thumb brushing over her lip.

"Then what are the new rules?"

Rosello looked torn as he looked down at Will who was gripping his wrist to try to lighten the tension in her hair connected to his fist. "What about me?" She was furious, teeth bared with fresh anger. "Don't I get my turn in the original game? Come on, Toni. Ask me. Truth or Dare. Didn't you have a master plan all this drama? Don't let Markie-boy ruin the fun."

Hoffman narrowed his eyes to Will, not liking how she was hijacking his attention. The heavy man leaned over her, breathing rapidly. While he was focused on her, Hoffman went to reach for his ankle holster. Rosello snapped to look at him and he froze. "Hands on the table, Markie-boy. And Red. Thanks for reminding me." He released her hair and walked over to Hoffman, gun pressed to his heart. "Truth or Dare, Red."

"Dare." She got to her feet, kicking her heels off. There was a feral energy in the way she bared her shoulders. She looked as though she was planning on doing something impulsive. Drastic.

It was time they did something drastic. But the gun was pressed into him and he had no vest. Nothing to stop that caliber from punching a hole right through him.

"I dare you," Rosello dug into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the table. "To marry me."

She smirked in disbelief then gently unfolded the document. "How can this legally stand?"

"Never underestimate the magic of lawyers. The Rosello family just needs your signature. What'll it be, Red? Your hand in marriage and I'll let your partner go. Hell, I'll give him and his sister and future brother-in-law immunity. After all, he's going to get his heart broken no matter what you choose."

Will bit her lip as she studied the paperwork. "Will," Hoffman growled. Honeyed amber illuminated him, a look of calm clarity reflected through the bloody face. He pleaded with her. "Don't."

"Not much of a choice, Mark," she sighed. "You got a pen?"

"Sure," Rosello went to retrieve one but paused. "Give me a sec." He turned to look down at his pantlegs while digging one hand through the various pockets and Hoffman went for the opportunity.

He didn't think too much on whether he'd live through it. But he damn well wasn't going to let Will sign that paper.

The sound of the gun going off and the worst pain in his chest struck through him like lightning. He felt wet. He felt cold. He remembered to pull out the gun in his ankle holster and he raised it up to Rosello, who had been dancing in circles searching for his lost pistol.

He lined his sight but the sound of a loud pop confused him. He hadn't fired yet. But his vision was blurry. His arms were so heavy. He couldn't breathe.

"Mark!" Fire, red and warm, touched his face and pressed into his chest with searing pressure. He let out a low groan, wondering why it hurt so much. "Hold on. You're going to be okay."

Sure he was. He wasn't worried. Every time he blinked the blurry world got darker. He wasn't scared, not when she was there with him. Safe.