The message was clear. On my front door was an X; one line yellow, the other blue. They'd found me and I was marked for death. The LC had marked my family for death.
I paid the cabbie and stared, looking around, but there were no LCs around. Just the early morning light and the ugly X.
Shit. In three days I was twenty six and finally free. I had it all arranged; Andy would be declared mentally incompetent, I had the papers drawn up, the children would go to their maternal grandparents, the company would be in my name, and I'd be free.
Three fucking days and they found me.
I called Markus and had him find someone to replace it, hopefully before the children noticed. There was nothing else to do but slink in and wait for the tantrum that Andy would throw for staying out all night. I buttoned up my trench, hid my gun, and prepared.
It came faster than expected. I stepped into the house and I met the back of his hand. The action sent me sprawling back and I landed on my butt, half outside the house.
"Where the fuck were you last night?"
"W-what?" I asked and found my feet. No one was outside but dozens of anonymous cars getting an early start to their day. It was no use fighting; he'd remind me that all he had to do was make one phone call and I'd be in prison.
"The Marks were here. You were supposed to entertain Michael so I could get at his wife Juliet. You might be enough to get Andrew Jr into his school, but no more dressing like a slut. Were you whoring all night?"
Rage gripped me. Rage at him for my prison, rage at Patrick for making me do what flashed through my mind as guilt.
I pulled my gun. "Back off, Andy. Three more days until I'm free of you. I will not be insulted, slapped around, or whored out."
Casually he smiled and pulled a cell phone from his dark suit. "One call and you go away, for- what the hell?"
I didn't want to turn around, I suspected I knew who was behind me.
As I watched all of Patrick's height and bulk moved like lightning and Andy flew back, smacking his head into a banister. His cell phone fell out of his hand and he landed limply on the floor in a pool of blood.
My gun clattered to the ground and I rushed to his side. Patrick stood over him, fists curled, his face a mask of rage. Andy's pulse was strong; he was knocked out, and all the blood was from a mild scratch. Head wounds always bled but Andy had been drinking which made it worse.
"God damn it, Wolfe, what the fuck did you think you were doing?"
His rage turned on me, barely leashed. "He hit you. You pulled your gun. I heard him threatening you. Aileen I was trying to help."
"Daddy?" A plaintive cry came.
"Kids! Get out of here, daddy took a spill. Go get Marta, please."
"Annie Annwe?" Andy Jr asked.
"Captain Murphy," a voice said from Andy's cell. Fuck; he'd dialed. "Mr. Reilly?"
"Detective Wolfe, sir," Patrick said scooping it up.
"Marta!" I yelled and she came quickly, wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Andy she turned ghostly but when I nodded she scooped the kids up and dragged them away.
Andy moaned and Patrick scowled down at him as he spoke. "Andy Reilly's phone dialed when he fell down the stairs. Drunk. Yes sir. Yes. An ambulance. Thank you sir. She- no, sir. Really? Yes sir. I will. I can. I will. I'll call my lawyer. Yes. Thank you."
"What have you done?" I growled.
"Aileen, you have to get out of here now. They're sending over uniforms and you'll get hauled in. You have to go. Now!" he said at my blank look.
I didn't have a car handy and dimly followed him to his. We sat down and he tore off, and for a brief moment it was like the night had never happened.
"Patrick," I said at long last when I realized he was driving to my condo. "I meant what I said. I'm not helping you, and being seen with me can only hurt you."
"Aileen, don't you think I know that? And I meant what I said, I love you. Screw the bureau, if you need to get lost I'll use my own money, my own connections, I'll do whatever it takes. And of it means never seeing you again, fine."
I winced, feeling like a monster. "Things have changed. Did you see what they did to my door?"
He nodded and pulled up to a wolf pack at a stoplight. "I told you they know who you are and they want you dead."
"On my door, on my brother's door. That doesn't mean they want me dead; it means they want my family dead, my brother's employees. My niece, my nephew! I'm not going anywhere now."
He gripped the steering wheel so tight I thought it might pop off. "We'll get you lost, I can take care of your family."
"How?"
"The kids can be made wards of the court, I just need to get a warrant from my cap-"
"No. No, this is my fight, I started it, I'll finish it."
"Do you know how crazy that sounds?" The light turned and we crawled forward into Chicago's morning rush hour.
"They won't stop. By the time you get those kids somewhere through legal channels they're as good as dead."
"So what are you going to do?"
"They want me dead, they want revenge. I left, I left with some of their money, and I've been embarrassing them at their attempts to gain ground in Chicago. What they want is blood, but they want everyone to know what they did."
"Jesus, you think racing them and getting killed will solve this?"
"Maybe. Look, Patrick I..." The words were difficult on my lips. "I need a favor."
"Jesus I should just cuff you to the dash again and drag your butt onto a plane for Mexico."
"But you won't do it because you know I'm right."
He screeched to a short halt at another red light, earning a few horns behind us. "So what's the favor?"
I took a deep breath. "I'm not asking the cop, I'm not asking the mechanic, I'm asking the rich pretty boy." He smiled at that, bitter saccharine. "I need you to get in contact with a good lawyer. I need my brother declared legally incompetent. Then I need access to a private plane so my niece and nephew can get to LA without having to appear on a manifest."
The light turned and he shifted into gear, his mind working almost audibly. "All right. Just promise me one thing."
"And that is?"
He slowed down to another red light. "You won't do anything stupid without talking to me first."
"Don't worry," I said with a little laugh. "except when it comes to you, I'm usually pretty smart." And with that I opened the door, hopped out, and jogged down Jackson, leaving him behind.
#
I stared into the mirror at the woman there. I wasn't like my mother, not in any way. She'd been five six, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. She'd been called beautiful until I'd grown up. Then I was called stunning and she was called quite pretty.
The bones of my face were my father's family, my coloring my mother's, but no one else I knew had the same. Still, the woman in the mirror was familiar and a stranger to me. I took extra care with her that night, having hidden from the world for a week I wanted her to look in control and distant.
Black leather boots, short black skirt, tight black top, and as the rain had cooled the night, black leather trench. I left my hair loose in the back, tied the front up to keep my eyes clear. The effect was nice, though a little too soft for me.
I lined my eyes and put the barest hint of green shadow above, making them pop. To balance it out I actually put on lipstick, a very natural shade, but my skin looked pale, and the black made me look great.
The earrings were silver, dangling like icicles, and as a last resort they detached from the hoops and could be knives. I wore my Beretta at my back, and the Glock 17 was coming with me to the car. God willing Patrick would stay away and that cop Gunnar wouldn't be there. God willing Cal, Carlos, and Marcus would wait in place.
It ended tonight.
I made it from the condo down to the car, and there I stopped. God, I would miss her. She was beautiful, and no one could ever love a GT500 like me. No one. I stroked her slowly, loving the green paint, the white stripes, the pure beauty and raw power. If I popped the hood I might cry, so I refrained.
I sat inside and put the Glock under the seat, strapped it in a loose holster so it wouldn't slide around, but I could pull it out real quick.
The warehouse was clear of anything of value, everything was set up. I had spent the last few days getting everything together. Andy was in rehab, the kids were safe in LA, and I hadn't seen Patrick since that...day a week ago.
I pressed the remote and revved the car to life. Showtime.
Li'l J wasn't too happy to see me. The circuit started at Vig's tonight and I pulled up at the edge of the rice burners and stepped out. He still wore coveralls, and his hair was in a afro.
"Don't you bring that here, Elle. I don't want no LC fuckers here. Word on the street is some nasty shit is going down."
"I'll wait for them here, where they know I'll be, and we race away. Nobody watches, no real cash."
