FIFTY-SIX
Gigi
Harry’s an ever-changing mystery, and I have my suspicions he’s up to something.
Our glory days at Pixies are far behind us. While I thought Richard enjoyed the torment, our hatred for each other was evident onstage. Besides, Harry seems to be roped into something far bigger than the Circle, and it’s never within me to ask. My days are limited to meetings about upcoming heists and galas, schmoozing with businessmen, and blistering my feet with trashy heels.
It’s been a few days since the assassination of the descendants of the drug empire, and I’ve finally been called into office. I walk inside, feeling Richard’s pressing gaze.
“Gigi,” he sighs, frustrated, rubbing at his temples as I sit opposite his desk. “What’s all this about you getting trigger-happy?”
“They’re being dramatic.”
His jaw clenches.
The past few months have been testing for our professional relationship, and my fight for my position on the pedestal has heightened my fast descent into insanity. My blinding hunger for power is a driving force above all else, and undermining is not something I take easily.
I cock a brow, inviting Richard to comment. “Something the matter? ”
While much has changed in my work, perhaps the most immediate change was bringing Richard down a peg. I still answer to him, of course. But when he’s not around I take the authoritative role.
Richard’s nostrils flare, and he restrains himself, but I can tell his real emotion from the way he white-knuckles the table.
“Where did you go after the yacht party?” he asks, catching me off-guard.
I push away the thought of this animalistic, toxic relationship that’s blossomed between me and Harry. While many things are different recently, he’s always managed to stay near.
There are still strides I need to make within the Circle, and I refuse to fall at the last hurdle. If I breathe the character, invoke this authority on others, it’ll bring everything I’ve ever wanted into existence. And Harry’s hatred towards me makes things easier since he’s not a distraction I can afford … When I feel his touch on my body, it ignites something in me so strong I’m powerless to resist; sends passion through me so deep I struggle to remind myself what life ever felt like before him.
The wall I’ve erected around myself holds strong despite most unwanted opinions, yet Harry always manages to make it crumble. When I saw his scars I was close to crumbling completely. I tried to be brave, but beneath the dubious character I ached to give up everything.
Harry will be my salvation – and also my undoing.
This is what you want , I’m always forced to remind myself. This is what you’ve fought for.
I can’t let him be my weakness. Not again.
“Back to the hotel,” I respond robotically, quickly diverting the conversation. “I’m sick of all these galas and fancy parties. When’s the next heist?”
As if on cue the door knocks, and Richard groans tiredly.
“Come in.”
I watch over my shoulder as Harry saunters into the room. From the way his jaw tightens, I know he’s caught me occupying the chair, but he refuses to spare me a glance as he sits down beside me.
“You asked to see me.”
Cutting to the chase, Richard explains, “I was going to send Davidson, but he has his eye off the ball as of late. I have no other option than to send two people for the job, which unfortunately means you two.”
Loving being involved in the action, I smile and turn to face Harry. Dark marks underline his eyes, and I narrow mine, trying to read him. Whether he’s put up his barricades or I just don’t know him well enough to read him anymore, he gives nothing away.
“Your job is to lure in Lorenzo Gallo.” Harry’s ears perk up. “We’ve had cyber threats against the business again. I need you to eradicate the threat before it becomes another issue.”
“I don’t suppose he’s connected to Antonio and Davide Gallo?” he asks.
Ah, of course. The brothers Harry and I put through a meat grinder.
“We suspect Lorenzo has been upping his search since you dealt with his brothers. The Circle can’t afford to have their men lingering around, so I need you to deal with them … He also has connections to Paolo.”
“Paolo Ricci?” I clarify.
“Whiz Tech Dan is traipsing through our cameras across London to try to find him, but for now we wait.”
Now that gains my interest.
Paolo has become an increasing threat to the business, having hired the Circle a few years back for an assassination. Richard and his men fear he’s intimidated, working diligently to break down our forces. Just last year Andy and Harry dealt with his buddy, Russo, who’d been sent to infiltrate our London offices to gather information. The very kill I snuck in to spy on.
The team is yet to find Paolo. His plan is to unearth crucial information, and from the way my boss’s posture stiffens, I can tell the threat scares him .
“The heist will occur this Saturday. He’s hosting a poker night at a nearby casino. Thought it’d be easy to lure him into a few games, gain his trust, and then deal with him.” Richard stands, dusting off his jacket. “I’ve booked the two of you a room at a nearby motel.”
Harry stills for a solid few seconds and then finally laughs, the sound hollow and lacking life. “Sorry. I thought you said ‘a room’. As in one.”
“I did. There was no availability elsewhere, and we don’t want to draw attention to either of you if you’re booked in anywhere fancier. This is the only motel in the area – it’s low-key, and no one will ask questions. Is that an issue?”
I imagine Harry has plenty. He looks ready to spill his complaints, but he remains quiet and shakes his head.
Hours pass, both of us going over endless, endless plans of how we’ll infiltrate Lorenzo Gallo until we’re finally ready to take on our true target. Paolo Ricci.
I wait until the cover of nightfall before slipping on my riding leathers and motorcycle gloves to protect my skin. The Glock holstered on my thigh, engraved with Harry’s initials, and the fact I’m being accompanied by the very vehicle he once gifted me, are cruel reminders of my past devotion to him.
Tugging on the helmet, I shake my head, dismissing the feeling that arises at the thought of green eyes and a dazzling smile.
I kick-start the engine.
Wind whips my cheeks as I drive, my hair blowing haphazardly behind me as I pass through the streets of London, weaving around the few cars lingering on the roads at this late hour.
As I pull up to an expansive driveway that gives way to elegant steps and marble pillars on either side of the heavy front door, a security guard stops my pursuit. His head pokes out of the security booth as I approach, and he exits the small box to bring his sweeping gaze over me, his eyes lingering on my chest.
“And why would you be here, miss?”
“I have business to attend to.”
“At eleven at night?” he counters.
I shrug matter-of-factly.
“What’s in it for me?” He steps closer, clear insinuation in his tone. “I’ll have to make it worthwhile.”
Oh boy.
My eyes drop to his ring finger momentarily, adorned with a thick gold band. “Why don’t you come here and find out?”
“And I thought I’d have to force it out of you.”
His smile is crude as he takes a careful step closer to my Harley. He reaches his arm out to cup my cheek, and I allow him the moment of distraction as his sordid eyes sweep down to my tongue, which wets my lips with hunger.
As he reaches closer, ready to take the moment further, I grasp onto his puny wrist. I twist it around, putting immense pressure on his shoulder and forcing him to cry out. Stepping up from the bike with fiery determination, I indulge in the fear in his eyes before shoving down and breaking his arm.
He roars, and I fist the back of his hair, slamming his head onto my knee. The guard passes out, but if only it were that easy. Climbing off the bike with a grunt, I smash my elbow into the protective glass of the booth’s exterior and retrieve the firearm axe intended for emergencies.
Which this very much is.
This guard will forever continue to treat women and his wife with disrespect if I let him live. Even the impending doom of how this could develop into something far worse sparks a memory so deep I can barely think. Can barely do anything other than raise the weapon above my head with strained arms.
“That’s enough! Couldn’t you hear me? Jesus!”
I bring the axe down with a piercing whoosh .
“What is it with sluts like you thinking you can dress like that and not suffer the consequences?”
I swing again.
“You’re practically asking for it.”
The memory comes through as blinding black flashes through blood splatter.
I swing again. Twice.
“It’s finally settling in.”
Three times. Four.
I persevere harder, struggling to get through the stubborn bone.
“Shh, you’ll enjoy this — ”
With an additional strain the guard’s head breaks free and rips from his shoulders.
I stumble back with a combination of exhaustion and shock. Where did that even come from?
Flustered from the surprise of the memory coming through so forcefully, I blink away the haze. It takes effort, but it finally dissipates, and I turn to the ground spoiled with red. Despite the internal shiver that courses through me I fist my fingers through the top of his hair, clutching his roots, and charge up the mansion steps towards the heavy entrance doors. They open with ease, and blood drips onto the pristine tiles as I walk into the centre of the foyer, declaring my arrival.
Pulling myself together, I demand, “We need to talk!”
Precious minutes pass, and I tap my foot, waiting for the banister to fill with a presence. The thick, bloody tendrils of my victim’s hair threaten to loosen my grip.
The man I wish to speak with descends the steps with worry and shock in his eyes, his large body concealed by a dressing gown.
“How did you get past security? ”
“Never underestimate female rage.”
As he reaches the lower step, I roll the man’s head towards his feet.
“He was ready to take a bribe to let me in here. You need to teach your men more respect, so I taught him a lesson.”
The head stops just a fraction away from his bare feet. The dead guard’s eyes bulge, staring at nothing, his mouth open in a constant state of shock.
“Call it karma for treating a woman with disrespect.”
The man in front of me stills, his face morphing into nothing short of horror. Our eyes clash, and my face turns serious.
“We have a problem.”
Exhaustion weighs heavily on my mind. It’s nearly 2 a.m. by the time I’m trailing through the front door of my apartment and face-planting the messy white sheets. I try to fight it, knowing the pain will be particularly aggressive tonight, but my attempt is useless, having spent hours upon hours planning our retaliation to this new threat.
Eyes closed, I feel my limbs loosening off as sleep takes me. Yet my shoulders are stiff as I settle into the bitter new routine that’s been plaguing me since I lost my grip on humanity.
The energy around me changes, and I know I’m truly in my lucid state as I hear the mechanical, “Night after night, you think of me again.”
I say nothing, immune to this behaviour that hijacks my sleep. As I push my head to the side and away from the pillow, the silhouette of a body I once knew skitters with my imagination.
The very demon who torments my dreams with reminders of my failure, tempting me to descend into the black hole in my mind.
His eyes beeline to the blood that continues to stain my hands and the arguably poor decisions I continue to make …
“Christ, you make me so fucking embarrassed, little sister.”