Chapter 6
“Hard days don’t last forever. But the choices you make on them do.”
— ROBERT MONROE
Constance
I do something unusual when I step into the bathroom adjoining our bedroom.
I lock the door behind me.
Up until now I’ve welcomed Maximo’s company, even in the bathtub, but tonight I don’t want to be interrupted. I turn the shower on and shimmy out of my ruined clothes as steam billows up and the long mirror over the sink fogs over.
I’m glad the mirror is cloudy. I don’t want to look at myself right now.
I feel disgusting. Not just physically, from the gore that seems to be caked into every crease of my flesh, but deep inside for what my best friend has suffered.
Melissa is in the hospital with a crushed face because of my actions.
I step into the shower and gasp as the scalding water strikes me, then sink down to the floor of the tub and let the spray wash over my head until my hair hangs over my face.
Hidden behind the locked door and the curtain of my sodden hair, I begin to shiver and burst into tears.
Deep, racking sobs rip through me as I finally let go of my iron grip on my emotions and let the terror of the day sweep through me.
My anguish over Melissa’s injuries and the horror of what I did overwhelm me.
I had no choice but to kill the two men who had assaulted us; I know that rationally.
But knowing I had to do it is different from the act itself, from the memory burned into my mind of their final agonizing moments, and from the knowledge that it could just as easily have been me and my tiny passenger.
It feels as if it will rip me apart. The panic that I’ve been holding at bay with nothing but sheer determination pours out of me in a flood of tears that burn my eyes hotter than the water beating down on me.
I don’t know how long the racking sobs consume me.
I sit there on the floor of the shower, rocking back and forth until the trembling and gasping finally subside.
With a deep breath, I force myself to my feet and seize the bottle of shampoo, ready to get down to the grim work of scrubbing the blood out of my hair.
I have to shampoo it three times before I’m satisfied it’s clean, then I grab the body wash and get to work on the rest of my body.
I thought for sure Maximo would come knocking before I managed to pry the dried gore from under my nails, but even though it’s been at least an hour, he has the decency to leave me alone.
When I finally cut the water off and step out of the shower, I feel clean even though my skin is raw.
I grab the bottle of lotion from under the sink and cover myself in it, then dry my hair.
By the time I step out into the bedroom to find fresh clothes, I almost look like my old self.
The woman I was before I met Maximo. I pull one of the knee-length silk gowns I like to sleep in over my head, then wrap myself in the bathrobe I claimed as mine the first night I was here.
I’m bone-tired and want to pass out, but I need to see Maximo and find out if Melissa ever responded to my text.
I can hear voices coming from downstairs when I step out of the bedroom, so I make my way to the kitchen where several men are gathered. Trenton is there pulling meat off a piece of chicken with his bare hands, while several other men I recognize stand around sharing a bottle of wine.
“Hey, lady,” Trenton greets me as he chews. “You looking for Maximo? He’s in his office making some calls.”
“It’s late,” I observe as I glance at the clock behind him. “Did he say everything is okay?” I open a cabinet and retrieve a glass, then fill it with water from the refrigerator dispenser.
“Eh, it’s nothing to do with us.” Trenton waves a dismissive hand.
“He said he had some messages from the CFO over at Luciani Financial regarding some trades Senator Berry wanted to make before the markets open tomorrow. I think he’s just reviewing the numbers and seeing if he wants to match the senator’s moves. ”
“His company handles investment accounts for Senator Berry?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise. I didn’t expect Maximo to have a United States senator on his client list.
“Yeah, his company handles financial transactions for several big name federales,” Trenton says with a nod.
He waves his hand to catch the attention of his friend Joey, who drove us around earlier, and then motions for him to round up the other men in the kitchen and head out into the foyer.
They grab another bottle of wine from the rack and file out of the kitchen.
“I shouldn’t be discussing the clients in mixed company,” he explains as he goes back to mauling his chicken.
“Maximo handles the finances of several feds and dozens of local state politicians. The information they provide helps guide some of his own trading decisions.”
“Isn’t that like the definition of insider trading?” I ask him, raising a brow.
Trenton snorts a laugh and then starts coughing as he inhales a piece of food.
He coughs and splutters for another moment before grabbing his wineglass and downing it, then turns his bleary eyes to me.
“Damn, woman, you can be an absolute trip. Did anyone ever tell you that? That look of shock on your face is priceless. Yes, it’s insider trading.
After everything you’ve seen and done already with the family, this is what surprises you? This is your bridge too far?”
“No, I mean… Maximo has just been so careful, so circumspect in all his actions. Insider trading seems like it would be easy to track and prove,” I say, trying to explain my concern.
Trenton shrugs as he rips another piece of meat off the chicken.
“Sure, it’s easy to prove. Except for one simple problem.
The people who would do the investigation are the people Maximo represents.
I know you’ve heard that old adage, ‘We have investigated ourselves and found we did nothing wrong’?
That applies here. The people who are in charge of oversight are the ones committing the crime.
The call, dear lady, is coming from inside the house!
” He spreads his greasy hands as though he’s revealing a magic trick, and my stomach lurches unpleasantly.
Trenton follows my gaze down to the chicken and says, “I’m being rude. Did you want some of this?”
“No, no thank you.” I can’t resist the slight shiver of revulsion that runs through me. I’ve barely recovered from the revulsion I’ve been feeling since killing two men this afternoon, and watching Trenton eat is bringing it back in spades.
Fortunately for my stomach, Maximo walks into the kitchen holding a whiskey carafe and a tumbler. “There you are.” He beams at me and leans over to kiss me. “How are you feeling after getting cleaned up?”
“Better.” I sigh as I watch him hit the icemaker, which ejects one large ball of ice into his glass. “Did Melissa ever get back in touch with you?” I ask as he pours himself a drink.
“She did.” He pauses to take a sip. “Ah, my throat was getting dry. Allen is a talker.”
“Allen is the CFO I was telling you about,” Trenton interjects.
Maximo raises his glass to Trenton, then continues.
“Yes, I was caught up with my financial officer for a bit, just handling some of the more mundane day-to-day business. We’ve had an exciting afternoon, so I had to catch him at home and go over a few things.
Anyway, Melissa, right. Here, firefly. You can read it for yourself.
” Maximo puts his carafe down on the counter and fishes his phone out of a coat pocket.
He unlocks the phone and pulls up the message thread before passing it to me. It’s a brief message, and it only takes me a moment to read.
I’m okay, Connie, don’t worry! My parents just got into town and are here with me.
The doctor says I’m going to need surgery in the morning to put in a plate to fix my orbital bone, but I’m going to be all right.
I’m just relieved you’re safe. Please let me know what happened when you can! I can’t wait to see you. Love, Mel.
“She’s going to have surgery in the morning,” I whisper. “Oh God, this is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” Maximo insists. “Don’t fall victim to that sort of thinking. In my line of work every decision has repercussions, most of which you can’t foresee. You can’t blame yourself for every bad thing someone else does, even if they did it in response to one of your moves.”
“Then how do you deal with the guilt, Max? How do you sleep at night?” I demand.
Maximo glances from me to Trenton, then tips his glass to me and drains it in a single gulp. Trenton wipes his greasy hands on a paper towel, pulls a vape out of his pocket, takes a puff, then exhales a cloud of sweet-smelling fumes.
“We find ways.” Maximo gives me a slight smile, trying to lighten my mood. “Do you want me to pour you one?”
“No, I don’t want to take up drinking, Maximo.” I can hear the bite in my voice.
Trenton obviously can too, as he raises his hands in the air in an “I surrender” motion and says, “I’m going to leave you two alone. I shouldn’t be vaping in the house anyhow.” Then he walks out into the foyer. “Just text if you need me,” he calls back over his shoulder.
“The truth is this doesn’t usually happen.” Maximo sighs as he refills his glass from the carafe. “Everyone who deals with me knows that I’m as honest as our business allows. They also know I got to this position because I’m willing to escalate. Do you know what that means, in this sense?”
“Of course I do. I’ve seen it in action. Kirill Volkov’s crew murdered my father while robbing one of your shipments, and you helped me kill him. People who cross you die.”