Natasha

“You’re lucky Jake Mason saved you,” James tells me, looking like the smug bastard he is.

“I’m not sure what you think I could’ve done differently.”

“You put everything at risk for Haring Kingston.”

“I never once jeopardized my mission. I was sent in to take down Satan, and I did. Even if I’d died in that damn basement, I had enough for you to take him down.”

“Possibly.”

“Don’t try and bullshit me.”

“Excuse me? Last time I checked, I was still your superior.”

This asshat is not superior to me in any way. He sucked a lot of ass on his way to where he is now, and if you sniff him hard enough, you can smell the shit that’s still stuck to his nose. Bastard.

“What do you want from me?”

“Is there anything left in there for us? Six years of living the life of a mobster. You had to become one of them to survive.”

“I was never one of them.”

“No? You didn’t kill alongside them? Break bones, and steal by their sides?”

“I did what you ordered me to do, and you know it.”

“There’s a fine line, and I’m not sure you didn’t cross it on your own.”

“I’m not going down without a fight,” I warn him.

“No one is talking about taking you down, Natasha. I do believe a vacation is in order, though. Go lie on a beach somewhere, and allow yourself to relax.”

“No thank you.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“I’ll take your vacation if I have to, but I’m going back to Las Vegas.”

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea?”

No. “It’s really not your problem, is it? I’ll be on vacation.”

“Two weeks, and then we’ll evaluate where you are.”

“Aye, aye, Boss.”

He lets me go, and I’m not surprised to see Haring in the hallway when I walk out. “Is there somewhere we can talk, Natasha?”

“Yes.”

I lead him down to my own office. I haven’t seen it in a very long time, but it looks just as I left it, only with more piles of paperwork added to the mix. I know a staff assistant has gone through it all, and taken care of anything time-sensitive, but it’s still weird to see so much work waiting for me.

Most are cold cases, because that was my specialty before it was believed I could go out into the field, and take down a mob family. There were many days I wished someone else was picked, but now I know I wouldn’t trade it for anything, because I wouldn’t have met Haring. No matter what happens, nothing can take away the memories we shared.

“What was a lie?” he asks, once the door is closed. I turn off the sound in here, not caring if we’re seen, but wanting a little slice of privacy for our words.

“My job, and how we met.”

“What else?”

“Nothing. What happened between us—what we shared—was real, and true.”

“Bullshit.”

It’s not, but I understand his anger, and let it go. He wants to lash out, and I’ll let him. To a point. I’m not about to become anyone’s punching bag.

“What else do you want to know?”

“You slept with him.”

“That’s not a question, but yes.”

“More than just him?”

“Yes. I had to survive.”

“Surviving, and being a mob whore are two different things.”

“Get out.”

“Hit a sore spot, huh?”

“Get. Out.”

“If this was real for you, you wouldn’t be asking me to leave!”

“No. If this was real for you, you wouldn’t be calling me a whore. You’d be asking me what happened, or being supportive because you knew I had to endure certain things to survive.”

“Don’t turn this shit on me.”

“How many women did I watch you leave the bar with before we got together? How many women did you sleep with before Vegas?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. I was fighting for my life, while you were just getting your rocks off.”

“Classy talk right there.”

“Just leave, Haring. There is nothing left for either of us to say. You thought I was different, and I thought you were different. Now, we both know we were wrong.”

“I was never anyone else. I never had an agenda. So again, this right here in not on me.”

I don’t argue with him, because it wouldn’t make a difference. He may not have had an agenda, but the man I fell in love with wouldn’t use that word to describe someone he cared about—or even someone he didn’t. I can forgive a lot, but I can’t forgive that.

I was willing to give up my life for him today. No matter what lies I told him, I protected him in that basement. I’m not going to say I’m glad I didn’t, because he never deserved to die. But, I don’t deserve to be labeled as something shameful just because my past doesn’t meet his standards. What he said to me doesn’t meet mine.

It’s over. So much is finally over, and while I don’t know what’s going to happen next, I know freedom is within my grasp, and I’m going to hold onto it with both hands. I earned this, and I’m going to take what I deserve, and not look back. Broken hearts heal eventually, right?

Haring

“What did she say?” Matisse asks, when I walk back into the conference room Jake’s mother let us converge in.

“Nothing I wanted to hear.”

“You’re not being cryptic at all.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. We’re done, I’m apparently safe now, and I just want to get back to Vegas.”

“Did you give her a chance to explain what she was doing? What she did?” Jake demands.

“I asked her a couple questions, and she answered them.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s none of your business, Jake, unless you’re interested in being more than her friend. You cool with that, Isa?”

“Haring!” Matisse uses my real name, letting me know she’s upset with me, but I just don’t care.

“Leave it. Please. Just let me go back to Vegas, and get my life together. Again.”

“You called it ‘Vegas’ and not ‘home’. Are you planning to leave, and come back here?”

“No. I’m staying there. This city is my past.”

She lets it go, and I’m thankful for that. I didn’t call Vegas home, because my home is in the office I just walked out of. The woman I just insulted, out of jealousy and hurt, is my home. I’ll never get over her, but I can focus everything I have on work, and hope it’s enough. Enough to numb the pain that’s encompassing all of me right now.

No one talks to me on the ride to the airport, or on the Corrigan jet that takes us back across the country. They talk to each other, and play some board games, but give me a wide berth. That’s not hard on this spacious jet, which makes me thankful once again for Matt Corrigan.

I eat, and I sleep. That’s all I know how to do since I didn’t bring anything to work on. I could use an onboard computer, but this is the last break I’m giving myself. Tomorrow, it’s all work, all the time.

Matisse shakes me awake when we land, and I can see in her eyes that she’s done letting me sulk. “We’re riding alone in my car.”

“Is that you asking?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“I’m not happy with Natasha, but from what I understand, she was ultimately willing to sacrifice herself for you. Against direct orders.”

“It doesn’t change what she did. She could’ve told me once we became…whatever it was we were.”

“No, she couldn’t.”

“Don’t be on her side; it’s not a good look.”

“This isn’t about sides, because you know I’m always on yours. I just want you to realize that her life isn’t so much different from mine. The longest I’ve ever had to be on a mission is a week, and Reina wouldn’t send anyone in for years, but the secrets have to be kept. Even with the Doc being part of the Society, I can’t tell him everything.”

“You never pretended to be in love with him.”

“Is that what she told you? That it was pretend for her? Because she wouldn’t be trying to save you if it was fake.”

“She said it was real, but how can I believe anything she says? She slept with those men, worked alongside them, killed with them, slept with them.” Yeah, I said it more than once, because it’s like a knife in my heart.

“The world isn’t black and white. If I wasn’t in a relationship, and the situation came up, who’s to say I wouldn’t sleep with someone I was trying to take down?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. I’m sorry if it disappoints you, but I would. And don’t you dare try to judge me—or her—because sleeping with some random woman in a bar is no better, or worse. It’s life, and the choices we sometimes have to make. We’ve all made both good and bad ones. None of us has the right to be judge and jury for each other.”

“We’ll just have to disagree.”

She shakes her head as we pull into the garage below our apartments. “I love you. You know I love you, and appreciate all you’ve done for me. But, I can’t accept this from you. Mom and Dad didn’t raise us to be like the person you’re telling me you are.”

“Mom wouldn’t have lied to Dad.”

“If she was a spy, trying to save the world, yeah, she would’ve.”

“Saving the world, one bed at a time. Maybe Reina can use that on promotional materials.”

The slap across my face is deserved, but unexpected. “Grow up, Haring, and start acting like a man, and not a little boy who finds out his favorite toy has been played with before he had it. This self-righteous bullshit doesn’t look so hot on you right now.”

“Maybe I just needed some comfort, and love from my sister, instead of a take-down of my character.”

“If you were being a grown-up, you’d realize I was giving you tough love, because that’s what you need.”

“Stop saying I’m a kid, Matisse, because you’re pissing me off.”

“Good. It means you’re feeling something. I just want to know you’re not a robot, who has no feelings.”

“I’m feeling too much! I need to stop feeling, because it hurts so fucking much to feel!”

She wraps her arms around me, holding me as I shake. “I love you, Degas.”

“I love you too, Claudel. So much.”

I lose track of time as I take comfort from my sister. I know she’s right, and I needed that tough love, but I was right, too. I need comfort, and normalcy, and just to know there’s someone who’s always going to be there for me. Matisse will always love me, no matter what happens in either of our lives.

We’ve let others in, but it’s still us against the world sometimes, and I think it always will be. We lived through tragedy, and while that’s not exclusive to us, our specific heartache belongs to us. It bonds us almost more than our blood does.

I was stupid to think another woman in this world would love me unconditionally. My life has always been full of conditions, and I’ve steeled myself for the reality of it always being this way. Now, I just have to focus on the things I can control—work, life choices, and friends. Nothing else is ever going to matter to me again, especially not a woman.