My body slammed against the living room wall, a picture frame next to me jumping off its nail and crashing to the floor, the glass shattering at my feet. I whimpered.
“Zico?”
I’d been right. It was a setup. Zico had used me to try and capture Gary, but that was all I was good for. Now that the plan had been carried out, and especially now that it was clear it would fail, he had come to get rid of me. I closed my eyes, my cheek pressed against the cold wall, and tried not to cry. I didn’t want my last moments on earth to be spent crying. I wanted to fight.
“Not. Quite.” The words were hot, acidic in my ear. I flinched away from the boozy breath that was wafting over my face as a shiver raced down my spine. I recognized that voice. The harsh, surly timbre.
“Gary?” I whispered, not wanting it to be true. Hoping that if I said it quietly enough, it wouldn’t be Gary. It would be Zico or a random home invader. Somehow, either of those options would be better than if it were actually Gary.
“Ding, ding, ding,” he said, his voice mocking me, every word being spat out like venom.
“Why?” My voice broke, and I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t help it. My body was shaking. All of my police training was proving to be useless. I wasn’t keeping my cool at all. I was panicking.
“Zico?” he said, in a mocking high-pitched voice. “Why do you think? Did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure it out? Did you really think that I didn’t have enough contacts in this city to find out that you’d been seen having drinks with Zico?”
“That wasn’t anything,” I said, scrambling for an excuse, for a reason why I thought Zico was in my house, for why I’d been out with him.
“You dating a mafia member wasn’t anything? You dating a mafia member I did business with wasn’t anything? Explain to me how that is possible?”
“It was just a fling,” I said, knowing even as I spoke that it didn’t make any sense. Trying to lie to Gary was useless. There was no rational explanation except for the truth.
He tightened his hold on my wrists, twisted my arms behind my back, and pushed me harder into the wall, all of his weight pressed against my back. I felt like I was suffocating, I fought hard for every breath.
“Liar,” he spat in my ear.
I’d been convinced Gary would never hurt me, convinced that it had all been an empty threat, something he’d said out of anger. If I find out you were behind this, I’ll kill you.
Now, though, his words rang in my head, and I knew he’d meant it. He was going to kill me. He had to, at this point. If he didn’t, I’d call the police, turn him in, and he’d be arrested all over again. His only chance of getting away with it now was to kill me and make sure no one ever found my body.
Unfortunately, he had more than a few contacts who were skilled in that area. I thought of my family. Of my mom and dad. Would they be the ones who came to clean out my apartment after I’d disappeared? Would they collect money for a reward? Would they cry on the local news, begging for any information on my whereabouts? Would anyone from my precinct work the case? Would Gary?
The idea made me sick. The thought that Gary would stand in front of my parents, tell them what a great partner I’d been to him, tell them how nice and funny I was. Maybe he’d even mention our date. Our date, which had actually been a lie, and during which he’d tried to have sex with me in a bathroom. Maybe he’d mention that night in front of my dad, knowing the entire time that I was dead.
“When did you and Zico come up with this little plan to get me arrested? Did he come to you or did you go to him? Had you two already met when I introduced you at the cigar shop?”
I didn’t answer, and Gary shoved me harder against the wall. I knew I’d have a bruise on my face, though, I had to ask: could a body bruise after it was dead? If my blood stopped pumping, would anyone see the bruises Gary had caused on my face and, I suspected, around my wrists?
“I had never seen him before the cigar shop,” I said between gasping breaths. I leaned back into Gary, trying to give myself room to breathe, trying to let my lungs expand, but he pressed harder into me.
“Don’t lie,” he snarled out.
“I’m not!” Tears squeezed from the corner of my eyes, but they weren’t from emotion. Gary was literally squeezing me dry. He was forcing liquid out of my eyes, and I couldn’t be certain it wasn’t my brain. My entire body felt like a too-full water balloon ready to pop. “I’d never met him before, and there wasn’t a plan.”
Suddenly, Gary stepped away from me, and I gasped, my entire body desperate for oxygen. I bent forward and put my hands on my knees, taking long, deep inhales, wondering whether or not they’d be my last. Then, he grabbed my arm and wrenched me towards him, my body pressed against his. He used his hands to pin my arms to my sides as he stared into my eyes.
“Tell me the truth,” he said.
Gary didn’t look like Gary. In fact, he barely looked human. His eyes were dark and dead, like marbles. Like doll’s eyes. I’d never liked dolls. I liked their small clothes and hairbrushes, and I liked slipping their plastic feet into tiny plastic shoes, but I could never look them in the eyes.
Even the dolls that closed their eyes when you laid them down and opened them when you picked them up freaked me out. The forced illusion of life only made the imitation that much more apparent. No matter how rosy their cheeks or soft their hair, the eyes were always still and dead in a way that unnerved me.
Gary’s eyes looked like that now. I knew he was looking at me, but he wasn’t seeing me. I knew right then that there was no way out. There was nothing I could say to change his mind. Gary was gone, replaced by rage and revenge.
“He came to me,” I whispered, deciding to tell him as much of the truth as I could. As much of the truth as I was willing.
Gary pushed me back into the wall, his forearm pressing into my throat. “So, you did plot against me?”
“I didn’t want to,” I lied. “He forced me. Blackmail.”
“You just moved to the city!” Gary roared out. “What could he possibly have to blackmail you with?”
“I went back to the cigar shop for your notebook,” I said.
Gary seemed thrown by the mention of his notebook, but then I watched as realization washed over his face.
“It wasn’t shoved between the seats. I went to the shop to get it back for you, and Zico made me… earn it.”
I wouldn’t tell Gary about the blow job. I wouldn’t let him see how desperate I’d been to earn his trust, his favor. Not now.
“There was a tape, and he said he’d release it if I didn’t help him. I didn’t know what to do,” I said.
All of this was true. I was alone in a new city with a job I’d always wanted, and suddenly, not even a week in, it was all being threatened. I was going to lose everything.
“You could have told me!” Gary’s breath was hot and wet on my face. “You could have come to me, and we could have figured it out.”
“No, we couldn’t have. If Zico had found out I’d told you, he would have released the tape. Everyone would have seen what I did, and they would have heard why I did it. They would have heard about your side business, and then we both would have been screwed. I was selfish, and I chose to save myself.”
“And how did that work out for you?” Gary asked, smiling a wicked smile and raising one eyebrow, his forearm pressing harder into my throat until the edges of my vision went black.
He released me just before I passed out, and I took raspy breaths of air.
“Why did you go on a date with me?” he asked.
For the first time, Gary looked vulnerable, and I realized he had actually liked me. The date had been real to him, and finding out it had all been a big plan hurt.
“I didn’t want you to stop trusting me,” I admitted, realizing there was no point in lying.
“And the bathroom?” he asked, his eyes narrowed at me. “Was all of that fake, too?”
I looked at the floor, but that was apparently answer enough. Gary punched the wall next to my head. Hard. I closed my eyes and flinched, waiting for his next punch to land on me. It didn’t though. Instead, he stepped away.
I opened my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest, blood pumping in my temples. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I just wanted it to be over. Then, Gary moved in front of me again, and before I could do anything, he was yanking my shirt over my head, the fabric tearing in his hands.
“What are you—?”
“If I remember right,” he said, his voice harsh and breathy in my ear, his hands pressing down on my hips. “You said I’d have to take you out again before we had sex.”
I didn’t understand, my head shaking. Was Gary seriously sick enough to think this was a date? He grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him. His face was split in a wide grin that sent icy tremors through my chest. “Does it count if we have sex and then I take you out?”
“You want a date?” I asked.
“Not quite what I meant.” He laughed.
Take you out. Even in the midst of something so terrible, Gary had managed to laugh at his own joke. At the double entendre that revealed his final plan for me.
Gary Unwin was going to kill me.
I’d suspected it since the moment I’d heard his voice, but hearing him say it—and in such a callous way—made me feel nauseous. He pressed his body into mine, and I wanted to vacate my skin. I wanted to send my consciousness as far away from the situation as possible. I couldn’t fight Gary, that was clear. He was broad and muscular and armed. Whereas I was half-naked and more than a foot shorter than he was. I didn’t stand a chance.
Gary laid his forearm across my chest and used his other hand to unbutton my jeans. “You are such a tease,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You wear your tight clothes, and you showed up to our date wearing that skimpy black dress. You basically advertised that you wanted to sleep with me, so now you can. You’re welcome.”
I thought I was going to throw up. My body was pinned to the wall, and I let myself go completely limp. I was too tired to fight. After so many days of uncertainty and lies and deception, I just couldn’t do it anymore.
He hooked his hands on either side of my jeans and pushed them down to the floor. It was while he was crouched down in front of me that I saw a shadow move outside the curtain. For a second, I thought it was wishful thinking, but then I saw the small glow of a cigar. It flared up and dwindled like a lightning bug.
It was Zico.
I still wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kill me, too, but that didn’t matter. For the first time since Gary had whispered in my ear, hope flared in my chest. Gary stood back up, blocking my view of the front door and the window, and I tried to keep my expression neutral, tried to act as if nothing had changed.
His fingers ran over my skin and down over my panties. “You like that,” he said.
It wasn’t a question, but a command. I looked him in the eyes and made a small moan. It was clearly fake, but it had been enough to satisfy Gary. He pressed himself against me, his hands kneading at my breasts.
Over his shoulder, I saw the front door opening very slowly. To help disguise the noise, I moaned again, directly into Gary’s ear. I felt him growing hard on my leg as Zico’s face peered around the door frame. I looked at him, my eyes wide, begging. He held a finger to his lips and nodded, letting me know he had a plan.
Gary was unaware of anything but me and my body. His fingers were clawing at my skin as he was grinding himself against my hip, grunting with each thrust. I continued to moan in his ear so he wouldn’t hear the floor creaking under Zico’s feet, but my eyes were trained on Zico, waiting for him to tell me what to do.
Finally, Zico pulled a gun from his coat pocket and held up three fingers. Slowly, one by one, he lowered them. When the third finger went down, I dove hard to the right, slipping out of Gary’s hands and crashing to the hardwood floor directly on my shoulder. Pain shot up my arm, but I barely felt it.
Gary turned to catch me, his arms flailing outward, but then the gun rang out. Zico’s bullet caught him first. Blood bubbled from Gary’s neck as he stared at me, wide-eyed, lips hanging open like a fish. He sunk to his knees and then collapsed face-first onto my living room rug.
I was still staring at Gary’s limp form when Zico ran to me, his hands hovering over my body as if he were trying to assess where all I may be hurt. “God, Anna, are you okay?”
I pushed myself off the floor, crossing my arms over my chest. I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Zico slipped off his jacket and threw it over me, helping me cover up. I pulled it tightly around my neck, taking deep breaths of the familiar smell. Leather and cigar smoke.
“I’m so glad I came,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against my shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “I can’t even imagine what would have happened.”
“Me too,” I said.
I felt like I could cry and scream and laugh, but instead, I just sat there, feeling nothing. Feeling empty. Was this shock?
“Come on,” Zico said, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the room. He led me into the bedroom and sat me on the edge of the bed. “Stay here.”
I knew I should get dressed and try to figure out what was going on, what I needed to do. There was a dead body on my living room floor, after all. But I couldn’t. I just sat on the edge of the bed, Zico’s jacket wrapped around me, and stared at the floor.
Zico came back into the room. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I sensed a lot. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
I nodded. Then, I heard movement in the other room, and I jolted up, the coat falling to the floor. Gary was alive. He was coming for us.
“It’s not Gary,” Zico said quickly, grabbing my shoulders, looking into my eyes until my breathing slowed to regular. “I called some people to come take care of… the mess.”
The mess. Gary. Gary’s blood and body.
Gary was dead.
“You killed him,” I said.
Zico nodded. “Yeah. I suppose this means we should have gone with my plan all along. Killing people is always better than having them arrested.”
Despite everything, I smiled and crawled back onto the bed, slipping beneath my covers. Zico laid on the bed next to me, his head propped on his arm.
“Will you be okay?” he asked.
I nodded, though I didn’t actually know if it was true. “My partner is dead.”
Zico shook his head. “No, that guy wasn’t your partner. Partners are supposed to depend on one another. They are supposed to care about each other. Partners are supposed to have each other’s backs no matter what. That guy was a crappy partner.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You and I though?” he said, pointing at himself then me and back again. “We make great partners. The best partners. Don’t you think?”
I thought back over the past few weeks…. How many times Zico had been exactly what I’d needed. Whether that was someone to vent to or someone to make me laugh. He’d been there every day, no matter what. And tonight, when I’d needed someone more than I’d ever needed them, he was there. He was taking care of everything. Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t deny it.
“The absolute best,” I whispered.