Deceit (Part 1) Page 2

Chapter Two

  Lily

  I can hear shouting beyond the door as I stand outside. It's the sort of reprimanding that I've been given plenty of times before, and I'm sure I'm about to get another.

  Kent deserves it. That stupid fucking comment, as innocuous as it might have been, has gotten a man killed. An innocent man who, for all his faults, didn't deserve what he got. I've only ever seen a man die once before, and it's something I've never wanted to repeat. Yet right now all I can see is that bullet ripping through his head. His heavy body dropping like a fly to the floor. His eyes, suddenly stripped of their life. Cold and quickly turning to glass.

  His wife will be left without a husband. His kids without a father. That's something I can relate to, the sort of thing I'd never want to inflict on someone else. Yet I had no choice. There was no choice. Not in this world that I inhabit. It's was kill or be killed. And I'm not quite ready to call it quits just yet.

  A click sounds behind me and Kent walks out of the room, a scowl on his face. He gives me a glare and shakes his head before storming off down the corridor.

  “Lily, come in,” booms the voice inside the office.

  I turn and walk inside, shutting the door behind me. Ahead of me sits Blaine, my boss, my mentor, and a man I owe a hell of a lot. He's hitting his late 30's, but looks a little older. Gray flecks run through his short dark hair, a thick shroud of stubble covers his chin, and lines twist across his forehead, highlighting his ever present frown.

  “Sit down Lily,” he grumbles, his baritone voice shaking the walls.

  I step forward, not put off by the heavy scent of smoke in the air. It's always like that in here, a cigar never too far from his mouth. Years of smoking have cracked his once pure voice, giving it a more gravelly and guttural tone.

  He sits in a black office chair behind a heavy oak desk. The walls around are covered with files and cabinets and maps and pictures. I notice an image of Wheaton on the desk, his cheeks red and eyes a little sunken by excessive alcohol. The poor, fat drunk. He never saw me coming.

  Blaine lifts the picture as I walk in. “So, do you want to explain what happened?”

  I'd already given him the basics on the phone, telling him about Kent's slip of the tongue and how Wheaton recognized me as a result. I'd tried to avoid playing the blame game, because it's possible that Wheaton might have worked out who I was anyway. And frankly, pissing Kent off isn't exactly a sensible thing to do.

  So I go ahead and tell Blaine just what Kent's probably said already. That one way or another, Wheaton knew who I was. That as soon as that was the case, there was no option but to take him down. Was it for my sake? Party, yes. Was it for all our sakes? Hell fucking yeah it was. We're all connected. One of us goes down, we all go down.

  “You made the right choice,” says Blaine once I've recounted the tale once more. No verbal abuse. No serious castigation. Just a tip of the hat. That's the world I live in. Making the decision to kill a man gets me some faint praise.

  “Kent didn't get it so easy from you,” I say.

  “Kent fucked up. I know what he's like. He likes to toy with people and he's got a bit of a screw loose. I can see how it went down Lily. You're not to blame.”

  “Thanks B, I appreciate that.”

  He stands up and moves around to my side of the desk, a smile growing on his face. “Come here, you did good.”

  He wraps his heavyset arms around me, and I squeeze back. “You know I just want you to be safe out there, don't you,” he says.

  I nod into his barrel chest. “I know, and I always am. Tonight just got out of hand. It was all a silly mistake.”

  I perform a quick inner reproach at my words. Silly mistake. Yeah Lily, that silly mistake got a man killed. Show some fucking decorum and remorse.

  “We all make them. What happened was unfortunate, but it was the right choice.”

  He releases me from his python-like arms and I slip away. “What did you think of the score though?” I ask tentatively.

  He moves back around his desk and drops into his chair. “The score was good,” he says, opening a box and returning with a cigar between his fingers. He gestures to give it to me but I shake my head. He does this every time. He knows I don't smoke cigars.

  “Just good?” I ask, a little disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm.

  “Well, we'll have to wait and see what the necklace is worth. The signs are good, though.”

  “And what's next?” The thought of getting back to work isn't particularly appealing right now. But better that than dwelling on what happened last night.

  “There's an event coming up in a few weeks that we can get you into. As long as you're sure you're ready?”

  “I'm ready....or at least I'll be ready by then. You can count on me.”

  “I know I can sweetheart. I know I can.”