The brunette beauty exited the fancy hotel that decorated the corner of the Elmwood avenue and paced down the street. She found it hard to push away her thoughts and clear her head. In case her instinct was actually proven right she was terrified of the very thought of becoming a parent at this age, when she was that broken. Her thoughts come into a spiral— when, how and what now is the only thing she can think of.
She tried to calculate, retrace her steps and she ended up putting the blame on herself. For being so foolish. For trusting Scooter. For actually believing that one night of passion and lust with Scooter would manage to extinguish the darkness within her. The man had nothing to worry about... he was a married man, living his happily ever after with a woman that he could never possibly love. But again, did Rita actually ever love him?
There were times where she actually thought that Scooter was only a distraction to her. He helped her escape her demons and darkest of thoughts when she found herself unable to. He made her life with Carlo a little bit more bearable until his betrayal broke something within her. Waking up after a comma only to find out that her only chance for a happy ending was now happily married to another wealthy woman made the last trays of hope she had kept completely vanish. And for once again she felt lonelier than ever.
Scooter's face flashed through her mind and stuck there. That soft, almost clueless look he always had on his face. That man never figured out life, he only met real pain and learned how to deal with it in his own unorthodox ways. She tried to stick on the way he let her down, multiple times— and yet there was something about him she still couldn't fully detach from. Anger surfaced, at herself— at him and the universe. She didn't plan this. Didn't ask for it. At this point she could barely point out who she really was, let alone who she could be to a child.
She really wished that this revelation could become the opportunity for a new beginning, but again the fear she experienced was too much to let her think things through. She passed by the post office and turned left heading towards Vern's office. Her previous plan was finally abandoned. She planned on skipping telling the father for now, until she was sure. Until she finally gathered the courage to force him to abandon a second child. She passed by the dinner Dee Fillcot used to work for as a waitress back in her low profile days. Her eyes were focused on the street. The woman that always and under all kinds of circumstances kept her head high was now looking at the street, feeling unable to face the world surrounding her.
She was about to walk past the street when she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind and pull her inside the dinner. She let out a loud gasp and her eyes squeezed closed. Harry was the first person that came into her mind. The door shut closed with a loud thud and the mystery person grabbed her hand and forced her to sit on a wooden chair. She looked up, her dark orbs filled up with terror when she finally faced the woman sitting across her. Dee Fillcot. What a coincidence.
The blonde woman swallowed hard and brought her index finger in the middle of her own lips signaling her to keep quiet. A different emotion appeared on her face... anger. Her lips parted slightly before she exclaimed.
"What the hell do you think that you're doing?"
Dee swallowed hard and extended her hand to hold hers, to soothe her but Rita immediately slapped it away.
"Keep your voice down! You're a lucky woman Rita I'm telling you."
Dee's bluish eyes were locked on the window above their table. She gazed at the people roaming the street right outside the dinner and eventually held in her breath when a specific someone passed by.
Rita's eyes narrowed and she followed the woman's gaze curiously. Her lips formed a perfectly thin line as soon as she saw Katherine passing by the street alongside Otto. Her hands were full with a bunch of paper bags that were the very indication of her latest shopping spree. When she finally walked away her eyes met Dee's.
"I should have left you out there."
Dee rolled her eyes in clear irritation and run her fingers through her short blonde hair.
"I'm not scared of her!"
Rita responded quickly and a soft scoff escaped her well shaped lips.
"Clearly. She can't do much by herself but she has friends in high places."
Dee added and left their table quickly walking to the kitchen counter. She greeted an old coworker with a soft smile and grabbed two cups of coffee. She returned back to her table with Rita and handed the woman one warm cup of freshly poured americano.
"Is this a coffee date now?"
Rita quirked a playful brow.
"I think we should talk."
Dee announced, the look on her face more serious than ever. Her green eyes glimmered with both curiosity and sorrow. No matter what happened between herself and that woman, she couldn't hold a grudge against her, exactly like her husband did. She had to sit there and witness Rita in her truest form so far, more human than ever, and Dee wasn't exactly sure about how that made her feel.
"Talk about what?"
"Come on now Rita... you must have heard the rumors or else you must be deaf."
"This town excesses on revealing top secrets and ghosts coming from the past."
Rita nibbled on her bottom lip skeptically and crossed her hands on the table. The smell of warm coffee entered her nostrils and made goosebumps run down her spine.
"You must have heard about my mother and her new associate..."
Dee cleared her throat and held the cup of coffee tightly in her hand.
"I did. How did you find out?"
"You tend to forget I'm married to a detective."
Dee grinned slightly and sipped her coffee.
"Is Vern onto them?"
"I think that everyone is onto them by now. Except from freeing a dangerous prisoner, threatening an officer and tormenting his ex wife he also faked his identity. People are raising questions."
Rita let out a low sorrowful chuckle.
"They have no idea what they're dealing with."
"Then help them!"
"Excuse me?"
Their eyes locked for once again and her voice came out hoarse. The brunette woman swallowed hard and tried to mask her doubts.
"You know him better than anyone else Rita... help the authorities catch him and free yourself forever."
"I almost forgot about how much you love hope speeches."
Another eye roll followed and the look on Dee's face indicated that she wasn't amused by Rita's comment.
"I'm being patient here. I swear to god, it's like you enjoy torment! You have the opportunity to protect yourself Rita, and yet you choose not to. Why?"
Green eyes narrowed and pierced through her, scanning her lavage attire from head to toes. Rita shifted on her chair awkwardly. She was most definitely certain that this pair of forest green eyes was nothing but judgmental towards her.
"Like you said, I know him very well. I know what he's capable of."
"Then stop presenting yourself as the victim and fucking do something."
Rita hushed and looked at her closely.
"I fail to understand your sudden inclination to assist me."
"You have been always so thorough with people..."
Dee exhaled heavily in despair and refilled their cups with some extra coffee.
"Can you blame me?"
Rita quirked a suggestive thin brow and balanced her chin on her wrist.
"No... not after what my mother did."
Silence conquered. Deep uncomfortable silence that allowed them both to process their thoughts for a moment. Rita wasn't planning to get there but she couldn't help but ask. After all, self destruction had been always her best attribute.
"Have you spoken to Scooter?"
Dee's lips parted slightly without a sound, the woman was obviously unready to listen to his name for once again.
"Should I?"
"You have a son together."
Rita admitted and her fingers twisted the edge of her sleeve in small, frantic movements.
She realized her error and stopped. Her hands now firmly positioned on top of the table.
"And he's allowed to see him when he wishes to. That was the deal but he doesn't seem very punctual about it."
Her eyes dropped to the floor and she exhaled through her nose.
"Meaning what exactly?"
"Meaning that his new wife has tightened the leash around his neck pretty tightly. I don't mind— Vern and I, we don't need him."
One corner of Rita's mouth lifted and then dropped, unsure of how to respond.
"She doesn't know."
"I've figured."
"So you haven't seen him recently?"
"What's up with all the questioning? I thought that we were chatting about you."
"As much as I love being the centre of attention I've figured that a change of our subject was pretty much necessary."
Dee husked.
"Have you seen him?"
She asked and her eyes narrowed examining the woman for once again and Rita stared at her in owe. For a woman that always had an answer for everything she looked pretty divided on what to respond. Her silence gave her away of course and Dee leaned in forward.
"He's a married man."
A light mocking chortle filled up with despair escaped Rita's throat.
"How the tables have turned, am I correct?"
Dee nodded in response.
"You weren't as bad as her."
Dee responded quickly in an effort to lighten up the mood. She knew for sure that Scooter to her was just a very confirmation of her own insecurities. He made her feel accepted and seen but to Rita, he was so much more. She knew it back then that Rita Castillo needed him much more than she did.
"He made me realize something. People do not always change. Some of them keep repeating the same old habits."
"Then it must be a surviving copying mechanism, or perhaps he's a true masochist."
"Perhaps a little bit of both."
Rita agreed and finished drinking her cup of coffee.
"So did you sleep with him?"
Dee asked and Rita's facial features contorted. It was now that she truly realized her error back in that night.
"You know, this boy is always causing me trouble. You know it better yourself."
Rita dabbed her lips with a napkin, her movements too precise, too careful. The usual elegance in her posture looked strained now, like a painting cracking beneath its own frame. Dee Fillcot was a smart young woman, very intuitive at times, always trusting her gut feeling when it came to proving right her own suspicions. Rita didn't intend to give her the time to jump into any conclusions. Her hand reached for her purse, a signal. Her chair scrapped back just enough to declare her intention to leave but apparently it wasn't enough for her to escape the upcoming conversation.
"What trouble?"
Her brows furrowed and her lips gapped. Her gaze locked on Rita's figure like a hawk. The air between them thickened. As Rita stood smoothing her long gown Dee Fillcot rose too— more abruptly than she intended to. Her chair squeaked sharply against the hardwood, her voice lowering aggressively seeking for a proper answer.
"What trouble?"
She asked again this time through greeted teeth to hide her own fear.
Rita paused. She sunk her hand in her purse only to pull out a small rounded mirror and a red lipstick. She faced the window as she held the mirror in her palm for a few seconds in order to reapply the red shade on her well shaped lips. Her silence had given her away, and the almost terrified look on Dee's face helped her acknowledge that.
Dee stepped closer, her heels clicking with purpose. Her voice dropped low.
"You never talk like that. Not unless there's something you're trying to bury under that lipstick and self pity."
"I don't self pity! And we're not doing this."
She rolled her eyes to defend herself and started to move. Dee was faster. She extended her hand and took hold of hers abruptly pulling her back. She forced her to look at her but Rita's eyes couldn't exactly focus on hers. ''You're pregnant.'' Dee's words dropped like glass onto the dinner table. Rita didn't respond, she looked the other way sensing her throat going dry. Her body stiffened, the silence between them grew charged and electric. ''You're pregnant!'' She repeated with more heat in her words and she fiercely stepped closer to the woman, entirely invading her personal space.
''That's what this is all about. That's the trouble. You couldn't stand me when I was carrying his child and now you made the same mistake. You were careless!'' Dee felt her throat closing up, she swallowed hard and paused to breathe and give herself the time to process this very revelation. Rita's expression flickered with rage, shame, fear and sorrow, all of it darting through her face like lightning in a storm. "I said I'm not—"
She didn't get the chance to finish her blatant excuse. Dee's hand flew, sharp and clean until it landed across Rita's cheek. The sound rang through the room. A couple of waitresses stopped for a moment only to check on the two women standing by the door. A couple of random strangers put down their forks stunned by the scene unfolding right before their eyes. For a moment everything went fuzzy. There was so much anger bottled up within her chest from back then. She never truly forgave Rita for the way she treated her, for being better, more well dressed, more suitable than her for the man that she so much craved at the time. It wasn't true now... it didn't matter of course but her ego needed its own dose of this payback.
For a moment neither woman moved. The slap had echoed not just off walls but off memory. Payback. Rita slowly turned to look at the younger woman, her eyes glassy her lips parted in awe and her palm rising to cradle her cheek. "You hit me." Her voice came out into a whisper that barely reached Dee's ears. She was stunned, feeling uncertain on how to respond.
"Yes I did!" She responded confidently and swallowed hard in order to retain her harsh demeanor. She wasn't planning to admit this but raising her hand against the woman appeared to be much more painful to herself than Rita Castillo herself. "Because you taught me how to. How to feel entirely ashamed for messing up..." She added and her voice came out softer now, almost like a mother's soothing tone. Rita opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She realized now that she completely deserved it. Dee stepped back and crossed her hands under her chest firmly.
"Tell me, what's the plan? Hide it like you told me to? Or are you planning to pretend it's just another stomach bug from all that bad champagne?" Rita didn't answer right away... her hand remained still on her cheek but the shock in her eyes had given way to something else. Recognition. The kind of understanding that only forms when someone mirrors your ugliest moment back at you. That's why she couldn't blame her... Back then she filled her up with shame and guilts, because her own fear had taken over. She wasn't in place to lose Scooter and she did anything in her power to keep Dee Filcot away, even if that meant stealing his opportunity to become a father.
"Do you think I wanted this?" Rita finally spoke, her voice low and brittle. Dee didn't flinch. "I think you wanted what you always crave Rita. Control and power. And when you lost it you got sloppy and less efficient."
Rita's lips twitched slightly into a smile but there was no amusement hidden behind it. "You're a lot more ratchet than I remember dear. You must have had a good teacher." Dee smirked in response. "I did have a good teacher." "Exactly. Like mother like daughter. Thought that you'd have learned your lesson after your mother's weak attempt to become something she never really was."
For a mere moment the air trembled with the possibility of another explosion. Through her tough facade anyone could actually notice the cracks beneath it and that didn't remain unnoticed by Dee. She decided to ignore the nasty comment and folded her arms.
"Have you told him yet?" "I was planning to wait until I figure things out... until I make sure… but he's not as foolish as he seems. Neither are you."
Dee's expression softened a degree but only just. She was in her shoes once, lost, confused and inflicted on what she had to do.
"If that makes you feel slightly better you have plenty of time ahead to figure this out..." "Time tends to be against me lately. I'll figure it out." She responded firmly and her red lips drew back into a thin line.
"So another question. How come you were wondering around out there so early? Vern's office doesn't open until twelve o'clock."
"If I stayed in that hotel room I would have said something I can't take back. I'm not in place to put any more extra burden on Grace's shoulders." Dee nodded and a tense silence fell between them, fragile but not hostile. A truce hovered in the air that remained unspoken. Dee glanced over the rounded clock above the bar and bit her bottom lip.
"You've said enough for today. What now?" Rita followed her gaze and scoffed. "Apparently we go where the mess is, solve it out and pretend like we're not dragging half of it in our own heels." Dee exhaled through her nose, a faint smirk forming despite herself. "Vern's office?" Rita nodded once and exclaimed into a crisp tone. "Vern's office." Without another word the two women gathered their things and walked side by side towards the door, battle worn, bruised in different ways but moving forward all the same.
The tall dusky man was running late. He checked on his wrist watch for once again as he exited his black vehicle that he parked sloppily in front of a large construction site and rushed to cross the street. It was half an hour ago when Rowbin informed him about the incident. He didn't say much but the man sounded shaken via the phone and Vern knew that his partner tended to be emotionless most of the times until he wasn't. Until something dark happened that managed to shake him up and let him feel just for this once. By the time they spoke on the phone things were still uncertain. The police station received an early phone call prior to this morning that shook up the entire unit.
The caller was supposedly anonymous reporting his worries over a "missing" person named Earl head of the police unit. Rowbin didn't ask any further questions about the caller's identity but he was most definitely certain that it was detective Jones. After years and years of patrolling together he knew better than recognizing the familiar lisp in his voice. When Vern crossed the street he came across Earl's house.
A bunch of police cars had surrounded the area making it hard to notice anything suspicious considering how much crowded the yard was. His blood froze when he noticed the ambulance awaiting at the parking lot. It looked like three paramedics were preparing the area inside whilst Rowbin rushed around the area yelling instructions at people around him. His eyes finally landed on Vern and his lips drew back and tightened in denial to let his emotions flood him now.
"What the hell happened here?" Vern exclaimed and stared at his friend and partner with obvious worry in his eyes. "Come with me." The man responded eagerly into a hoarse gravy tone and lit up a cigarette inhaling a heavy well deserved bang. He positioned it between his pale lips with shaky hands and rushed to climb up the stairs that lead to Earl's porch. Vern didn't ask another question, the troubled look on his face made him think of the worst case scenario. Shivers went down his spine as he followed rapidly trying to process the idea and make peace with it but apparently there was nothing that could possibly prepare you for such incidents.
They entered the house and the hallway was quiet, eerily so. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering just enough to make the silence feel haunted. Vern looked carefully around him only to come across a very well retained house. The living room appeared to be recently cleaned up, every single item firmly positioned on where it belonged to. They crossed the kitchen and he didn't notice anything unusual. He knew that Earl wasn't much of a cook, he was the man that preferred the freshly cooked diner from the local dinner instead of bothering to cook himself. Except the days he finished work far too late and the dinner was closed. These were the perfect nights to experiment in the kitchen hoping for a mediocre result at least.
He stood at the door frame and gazed the shiny room. The kitchen table was spotless like usual, so was the sink. The only thing visible was a half empty cup of coffee positioned in the bottom of the sink. He continued following Rowbin and they finally reached the upper floor. The detective's bedroom was spotless as well. His nightstand empty, his bed made up, his old time classic grey coat hang next to the wardrobe and a book positioned next to his pillow on the top of the bed. Vern's nose scrunched up in confusion. The state of the house didn't indicate a man in need. They finally stood in front of Earl's office door and Rowbin paused for a moment. His hand remained wrapped around the door knob, his other hand still clutching a half burnt cigarette that didn't suffice to cure his sorrow and shock.
His eyes shut for a moment as he exhaled heavily and stood at the side to give some extra space to Vern. Vern approached and cleared his throat to regather his courage. He really hoped that he still had some of it still left. "Are you sure it's him?" Vern asked his voice rough like gravel soaked in whiskey. Earl exhaled the bitter smoke through his nostrils with a sigh and nodded. "He hasn't left the house in days, someone gave us a call this morning." Vern nodded and with a quicker gesture of his hand he turned the door knob to the side and let the door open up wide to reveal the bloody scenery.
The smell hit first. It was a combination of gun powder, scotch and something metallic beneath it all that made Vern's stomach turn at the very smell of it. The blinds were wide open, allowing the sun rays to flood the room and the lifeless body lying on the arm chair featuring out the sense of death that took over inside the very room. The desk looked like a usual mess, a half empty bottle of whiskey decorated in the middle, surrounded by scattered papers and books. And then... Earl. Slumped back in his leather chair, a revolver dangling from his right hand, blood soaking his shirt like spilled ink. Rowbin swallowed hard and put out his cigarette quickly only to approach and take a closer look this time. "Jesus..." It was the only thing he managed to exclaim.
Vern didn't move at first. He just stared, he wasn't thinking just looking and wondering. Why? For another long moment that felt like an eternity silence conquered for once again. There's nothing but the buzz of the overhead lights. "He was always too proud to go like this, don't you think?" Rowbin murmured and run his fingers through his hair in despair. His nose scrunched up and his eyes dark with furry and multiple unanswered questions that tormented his head.
Vern walked around the desk careful not to step in the blood. He scanned the scene like he was piecing together a puzzle with shaking hands. His eyes swept the scene only to realize that there was no sign of struggle or forced entry. Just a man alone with a decision he couldn't live past. "He really did it. Why?" Rowbin exclaimed and roamed around the office searching for an explanation. "There's no note." Vern added carefully and stood above the dead body.
"He had mentioned something that night... He was being irrational back then, he may was drunk and broken but he said something. Someone threatened him... he didn't mention what occurred exactly but someone tightened the leash around his neck, he found his soft spot. We both know who that was." Rowbin's teeth greeted and a heavy exhale left his throat. Vern furrowed skeptically still trying to soothe the anger burning in his chest.
"It was that bastard Harry." "So he'd rather be dead than exposed. Why?" Rowbin sat on the armrest of the nearby chair and folded his hands under his chest. He was stunned.
"Hell Vern, the guy kept this whole department running for over a decade." Silence. Vern proceeded to close the blinds shielding Earl from the outside world completely. He stood over the body again, staring, grief simmering just beneath the surface of his stone cold face.
"What now? We need to tell the coroner it was a suicide." "But not a word more. You don't mention his conflict with Harry, the mistake he made or that night at the bar. We should be the ones investigating this." Vern said and lit up a cigarette. He took a long drag and flicked the ash into Earl's empty glass of scotch. Rowbin nodded in agreement. His tongue clicked in his mouth and he inhaled sharply.
"And what about that son of a bitch Harry?" Vern grinned the cigarette into the glass with slow purpose. "I'm going to have a little chat with him first and then make him wish he pulled the trigger himself."
Rowbin stood up quickly and sunk both hands into the pockets of his pants. "We heading to Earl's office?" Vern checked on his wrist watch for once again and sighed. "I need to check on a little something first that involves our dear friend Harry. It won't take long, I'll be with you in an hour or so."
Vern exited the room quickly and Rowbin followed shortly. When he reached the living room he found detective Jones standing in front of the tall bookcase across the couch. He was looking through a poetry book with darkened teary eyes. Rowbin paused and examined him thoroughly.
"Thought it was your day off today."
He cleared his throat and stood behind the broken hearted man. His hand landed on his shoulder and patted it supportively. "I had to take a look by myself."
Detectives Jones admitted and pressed his lips together tightly. He blinked a couple of times to hide his unshed tears and inhaled sharply. His thumb caressed the page of the book he was holding and his shoulders shrugged. He felt small, vulnerable, vulnerable of revealing a weakness that he was supposedly taking to his grave. The need to communicate the mixture of feelings he was currently experiencing was taking over but he knew for a fact that if he spilled his secret now he wouldn't live another day to face the consequences. After all, he couldn't do this to Earl. Not after this sacrifice.
"It's unbelievable indeed. He was a good pal of mine."
Rowbin croaked and paced in front the bookcase staring at the plethora of volumes Earl used to collect. Detective Jones let out a pitiful husk.
"We were close."
Rowbin nodded his head and lifted his eyes to finally examine the man standing across him. Within an instant he could already notice the pain he was carrying. He was both distressed and confused, seeking for a reasonable answer exactly like he did himself. Any kind of explanation would suffice to justify such an abrupt act. There was something about Jone's face that made him think that he wasn't really surprised with the outcome.
"He often told me that you were joining him on his fishing trips."
"It was our thing. A getaway."
Jones responded dryly.
"A getaway from what?"
"Life. Responsibilities."
He chuckled in spite of himself and his hand rested against his chin, caressing the soft skin smoothly.
"He loved his peace and quiet, that for sure."
It took Rowbin a moment to find his voice but eventually he responded.
"He truly did."
"He was balanced. Or at least he appeared to be. What could possibly drive a man of his status to such a horrible act?"
"I don't know…"
Again too rapid. Jones swallowed hard, his fists balled slightly, his eyes staring blankly. In fact he knew. He didn't know about Harry's threat, he just assumed that carrying such a big secret on his shoulders appeared to be a lot harder than they both thought. Earl had so much more to lose in case people found out… he seemed uninterested to talk about the risks back then, but detective Jones knew him for good. He wasn't the man that chit chatted about his feelings and fears, he bottled them up, and drowned in them alone. He concluded that it was his own fault, for not noticing, for driving that innocent man to sin.
"I'm going to find out."
Rowbin responded after a long minute of silence. Jones seemed a little bit startled. He took a step back and let out a long exhale that he hadn't realized he had been holding in for so long.
"How?"
"We are detectives, aren't we?"
Again, Jones nodded his head.
"Is there a chance he shared with you anything alarming? Maybe something that could help us get a head start?"
"He didn't speak much, that you already know."
"Of course. Take it easy for today detective, give me a call if you need to get out of the house."
Rowbin smirked slightly and patted his shoulder for once again.
He lit up a cigarette for once again, positioned it between his index and middle finger, inhaled a heavy bang and then exhaled the smoke towards the ceiling. Jones looked bewildered. His eyes returned on the bookcase. Roaming the books. Recalling the days they spent together locked up in this room, entirely protected from the outside world. This very room used to be their haven. Rowbin smirked to himself, he could tell. Only a broken heart could mourn a man so silently. He immediately recalled the words his once dear friend had admitted after consuming lots of booze.
Rowbin didn't really understand the meaning of his words back then, or the very admission.
Those who remain faithful know only the insignificant side of love. It is the unfaithful who experience the true tragedy of love and the danger of committing a sin.
He scrunched up his nose as the quote replayed in his head and he retreated back to his vehicle.
The room is dimly lit at the upper floor of the Castillo residence. The curtains drawn against the rising sun, the tangled sheets still carry the scent of sweat and deceit. Harry Jaworski stands by the bed, buttoning his white shirt with deliberate slowness, the fabric crisp against his scarred chest. His lifted his gaze slowly and his eyes met a familiar pair of blues ones, that look at him with lust— portraying him like a god sent gift that arrived on earth to get her out of her misery.
And so far he was impeccable at making her surrender, making her let go of her unfulfilled fantasy, giving into the moment and experiencing the interesting and fun aspect of life. Alma Fillcot sits on the edge of mattress, her fingers twitching with impatience. Her eyes glimmering with excitement and something eerie. She sat upright and tugged her dress back on.
"We should go. I'm tired of waiting… Wherever she is she won't be expecting us to come during daylight. That's our advantage."
"No."
He admitted into a gravy tone and took a seat down next to her on the mattress. His hand landed on the small of her back, rubbing it into small circles. Alma's face contorted, she glanced over him with irritation, and great anticipation, like a toddler getting scolded for being too thoughtless. Her thin lips tightened.
"Why not? Every hour we wait, she's slipping further out of reach. She can't get away again! If you don't have the guts to go after her anymore— then I will!"
Her voice strangled, filled up with grievance.
"We don't have enough information about her yet. We need to be thorough if we want this to actually work. Trust me. We wait until I say otherwise Alma."
Her voice rose.
"I'm not some china doll you can stash in a cupboard Harry!"
A small chortle escaped his throat in response. A smile formed on his face that didn't really reach his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from her face with mock tenderness.
"No you're not, but you're the bullet I've been saving, and you should know by now that I'm not in place to waste any bullets."
Her eyes glimmered and a red cloud formed on her cheeks making her entire face light up. She turned towards him and pressed a soft peck on his lips. He found the man mesmerizing, his spontaneity and unpredictable acts made her feel alive again.
He returned the kiss quickly and stood up slipping on his jacket. Without another word he opened the door and left the guest room heading to the hallway. The brunette woman smirked to herself and laid back on the soft mattress. Her soft fingers tangled with her hair.
He walked down the long marble staircase and finally reached the luxurious living room his ex wife once called her own. He gave himself a quick glance through the mirror and finally entered through the tall door only to find Katherine sat down on the couch dressed up into a satin long gown. She sipped her coffee like it was whiskey, her eyes roaming the man carefully until she finally rose one perfectly arched brow.
"Well that looked like true love. Or the world's slowest con. Mister Jaworski you're such a con man."
She smirked playfully and placed her cup back on its small plate.
"Let her think it's romance, it's easier to keep her quiet that way."
"So what's the endgame? A wedding in prison? I'm not paying for that."
She scoffed and released a villainous full blown throw her head back cackle.
"You're mistaken dear. You and I get to walk away clean, then she takes the fall. I'm a man who sticks to his promises, you help me out and I'll make sure nothing happens to you or your reputation."
Kathrine hummed amused but not surprised.
"And here I thought you were the noble one."
"I never really claimed I was a good person but let me tell you something. Love makes monsters of us all. Don't you agree?"
He smirked thinly.
"Oh the things we do for love."
She chuckled and patted the empty spot next to her for him to join her…