Chapter One
Six Days Later
“So am I officially dead?”
Homicide Detective Kelvin Houston smiled at me as he closed the door and nodded. “Arrietty Emelina De Sota is officially deceased. How does it feel to be a dead woman?”
“Like I took a bullet through the gut.” I returned his smile and tossed the handful of chopped onions into the frying pan. “How does it feel to have a permanent house guest?”
“Technically this isn’t my house but you won’t be the first free loader I take in temporarily even if it was. Not to mention you still owe me dinner and a drink.”
“Which is what I’m currently doing at the moment so stop bitching. And just so you know, I’m never telling you anything about my domestic skills ever again.”
They’d moved me here after one of Rob’s men took a shot at killing me at the hospital after I’d survived surgery. I’d yet to see my brother but I spoke to him almost every day on the phone. He told me he was in the middle of planning my fake funeral since I apparently died two days ago. He even asked me what kind of flowers I wanted as a joke. I only woke up two days ago to a poorly decorated bedroom with no clue what the hell was going on. Houston, thus far, has been my only visitor and I was oddly ok with that.
No one was sitting with me when I finally opened my eyes from a four day coma but the second I tried to sit up, everyone in the vicinity knew I was awake. I’d screamed louder than I should’ve but it felt like I’d been shot…again.
Sorta.
A strange woman came running in, claiming I wasn’t supposed to be getting up yet and to lay back down. Since I had no idea who she was, I didn’t listen and starting throwing random items at her, whatever was in arm’s reach. Of course it didn’t help when Houston came into the room and caught a baseball to the forehead. What the hell a baseball was doing in the room, I don’t know. But I managed to get my hands on it and hurl it as hard as possible.
“Ow! Jesus, Elina! Calm the fuck down!”
“Where am I?” I yelled at him. “What the hell is going on? Who the fuck is she?”
“For one, you’re nursing a hole in the midsection so you need to stay,” Houston said rubbing his forehead and pointing at the bed. “Two you’re at a safe house and three, this is my sister. Be nice and pleasant like I know you can be. Say hi, Elina.”
When I didn’t say anything, the petite blonde took over. “Hi, Elina,” she said meekly, still holding her hands out in a defensive manner as I sat huffing on the bed. “I’m Dixie.”
“Dixie.” I looked at Houston. “Seriously? Dixie Houston. Are you shitting me right now?”
“No.”
“No? That’s all you’ve got for me is no?”
“Exactly.”
“I fucking hate you.” I sank back against the headboard. “What happened?”
“You were shot.”
“I was shot?” I looked at the girl who was still thinking about approaching me even though her brother had sat down at the end of the bed. She had the wide-eyed ‘I’m standing next to a live tiger’ look on her face. She nodded when she noticed I was waiting for her confirmation. “I was shot.”
“You know you were shot. How do you think you got the hole in the gut?” Houston just rolled his eyes but settled back into being patient. “Do you remember who it was?”
“Um…” I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to think. “Everything is a little fuzzy.”
“Do you need some help?”
I cracked an eye open and looked at him. “If you already know then why are you asking?”
“I need confirmation. There are no witnesses. Irv didn’t see him. The waitress who was on shift before you was found shot dead in an alleyway the same night you were. So we’ve been waiting for you to wake up to tell us what happened.”
“The diner…” I mulled that over for a moment but I was having a hard time coming up with something. So I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you…”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want what you say to taint what I remember. When I think of something, I’ll tell you.”
“Ok. If that’s how you want to play it.”
After that I let Dixie, who turned out to be a nurse, look me over. From what I gathered as Houston talked was as soon as they got me to the ER, they stabilized me and then rushed me to surgery to repair some internal damage. Nothing too severe but somehow a blood clot had formed, traveling a dangerous path through my body and only dissolving before it hit my brain.
Then of course there was the guy who came in and tried to inject an air bubble in the blood bag. Very Omen-ish. I swear I’m never watching that movie again.
Needless to say I’d had a rough couple of days. The official word was they moved me to an undisclosed location for safety reasons. Only after I woke up did Organized Crime come up with the idea to declare me dead in order to keep me safe and retain me as an asset.
So that’s how I came to be making dinner as a legally dead woman in a very open kitchen with Houston sitting at the island in front of me. I was supposed to be relaxing and not moving around so much but I couldn’t sit still anymore. Once I knew I would be feeling up to it, I had Houston stock the kitchen with what I needed to make yummy food for dinner. Tonight just happened to be the first time I felt ok enough to do it. Normally one of the officers who were assigned to babysitting me made me something to eat. They were on a rotation of one man outside the door and one man down on the street. The man outside the door was the one who would come in to check on me when Houston wasn’t here and make sure I had everything I needed. I knew there was something else Houston wasn’t mentioning. And if I was right, it had something to do with Rey and what happened at the diner. I wanted to ask if Rey was ok but I had a feeling if something serious had happened to him, Houston would spill. Instead I found him trying to sneak a slice of one of the peppers and smacked his hand harder than I really meant to. Like the wounded puppy he wasn’t, he stole the pepper anyways and grinned at me.
“So what am I supposed to do now?” I asked, getting all the serious stuff out of the way.
“For now you get better,” Houston said sobering up. “Then after you’re back up to par, we’ll discuss your options.”
“It could just be a coroner’s mistake, you know. I can miraculously show back up and be alive.”
“Yeah. Just so someone could shoot you again. Good plan, Elina. No. Right now you’re dead and you’re going to stay that way. You’re lucky we’re not shipping you out of state.”
“Why aren’t you shipping me out of state?”
“Because you’re more valuable here. So for the time being you’ll remain in this apartment where it’s safe.”
“Says who? The Thorns are not as stupid as you think they are. They’ll figure out I’m not dead. My brother isn’t that great of an actor. His lack of mourning period is going to draw suspicion.”
Houston sighed. “Well, we’ve decided that he’s going to have minimal contact with you until all of this is solved. One phone call a week at the most probably.” I looked down at the pan I was using, not really liking that idea too much but if it would keep us both alive then I would do it. “Do you remember anything about the diner yet? About who shot you?”
“Like I said the last time you asked, no. I don’t remember. It’s all bits and unexplainable pieces. I remember getting my card stamped and I remember Sonya telling me about a customer. I know whoever it was ordered a Coke since she wrote it down but after that I don’t remember much of anything. Just flashes of color that make no sense.”
“Try.”
I glared at him. “What do you think I do all day? It’s not like I sit on the couch, or in my bed for that matter, looking pretty because I got a good look at myself when I was in the bathroom when I woke up. I look…horrible. And you lied to me when you said my color would come back. It hasn’t yet and you’re a complete asshole for telling me it would.”
Houston held my eyes steadily. “You’re alive.”
“Yes and I have a new bullet hole to show to all of my new friends. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
He started undoing his tie and got up from the barstool. “I’m a cop, Elina. I know perfectly well what I’ve gotten myself into. Now, if you don’t need me for the moment, I’m going to shower.”
Strangely, Houston had taken up residence in the other bedroom in the safe house. I had no clue why he just didn’t go home but he’d leave for work in the morning and then show back up at the end of his shift, tired but unwilling to leave me alone. It was like I had a roommate or something. Strangest thing. Ever.
“Dinner should be done soon. Is Robles joining us?”
Robles was the one who’d checked on me an hour before Houston got back. He also happened to be the officer who was at the diner that day, trying to get me to tell him what happened. What I heard from the other officer who was here in the morning, Robles asked for this position. The other officers weren’t as tolerant of me.
“No,” Houston called from the hallway. “But set another setting at the table just in case. You never know who might show up.” With that said, his bedroom door closed with a soft click and not even sixty seconds later, I heard the shower turn on. That man was so freaking confusing. He spoke in freaking riddles most times, never giving me a straight answer.
Since the meat for the fajitas was browning up nicely, I decided to set the other placing. Only problem with that was the plates were on a shelf higher than I could reach or should even be reaching for. I stood there for a moment and stared up at the white plate. It felt like it was sparkling down at me even though I knew they weren’t. Inanimate objects do not sparkle menacingly but that’s exactly what they were doing. At least that’s what my perspective was.
“Damn,” I muttered.
Normally there were only two of us at dinner so I just reused the dishes in the dish strainer and when another officer joined us, he was usually nice enough to grab it himself. But since it was just me…
I sighed and closed my eyes. This was a stupid idea but I wasn’t in the mood to drag a chair over and get vertigo from standing on it. I let out a breath and just as I stepped onto my tip toes with my arm reaching rather painfully above my head, the door opened behind me.
My head whipped around, fear rising to the surface until I saw who it was. Then I just released the breath I was holding and settled back on my feet, giving him an easy smile in the process.
“I was wondering when you’d come see me,” I teased.
Jorge Gutierrez stood a little transfixed in the doorway, his tie loosened up a little but disbelief coloring his eyes. “You’re awake.”
“Yup.” My smile stretched bigger. “Two days now. By that look on your face, I take it Houston didn’t tell you.”
He didn’t say anything, just jogged his way over and swept me into a hug. I was mildly surprised by how happy I was to see him and I hugged him back. It felt good almost. I closed my eyes and buried my face in the crook of his neck. His aftershave was almost worn off and the stiffness of his collar was lax. None of it really mattered though as Houston’s earlier words drifted into my head. You’re alive.
“I was so worried,” he managed to choke out.
“You know me. I’m an escape artist when it comes to immediate death. You’ve seen it firsthand. I don’t know why you’re surprised.”
Out of impulse he hugged me tighter and that was all my still healing bullet wound could take. I stifled my cry but he heard my intake of breath and drew back to look me over.
“Are you ok?” he asked with worried eyes.
“I’m alive.” I offered him a weak smile. “But I think you’re going to have to finish dinner. I don’t feel so hot.”
The worry got worse as he looked over my face and quickly guided me to sit on the couch. “I’ll take care of dinner. You shouldn’t be up anyways.” He paused, his hand laying flat against my cheek. “You need to take it easy.”
“I am.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “It’s just I promised Houston dinner and I felt well enough to do it but…”
“It’s ok.” He swiped his thumb over my cheek and kissed my forehead. “Just tell me what you’re making and how to do it…”
“Just simple fajitas.” He smiled at me. “Abuela’s recipe so you should be able to manage.”
“I remember that recipe.” He brushed another kiss over my forehead and headed back to the kitchen. Thankfully both the living room and the kitchen were all one room. He was only a couple feet away as he quickly discerned where I was in the process of dinner making and started undoing his tie. “I totally have this.”
He flashed me a smile as he took his jacket off and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you drink.”
All I could do was smile as Houston filled up a wine glass and then placed the bottle on the table.
“I’ve been shot. I think I deserve a little bit of wine.”
“You’re still underage and you’re supposed to be on pain killers. In case you were wondering, those and alcohol don’t mix well.”
I picked up my glass before he could snatch it away and grinned at him. “But I’m not on pain killers and I know you have an imagination so think of me as twenty-one.”
“I couldn’t think of you as twenty-one if I looked at you sideways.” He put a premade fajita on my plate. “So just…put the glass down and use it as decoration. And those are still hot so watch your fingers.”
I looked over at Jorge who was watching the whole exchange with amusement, his own wine glass in his hand. “You two fight worse than cats and dogs.”
“That’s because he’s an…”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll smack you with the spatula.” He pointed the object he was threatening me with in the face. I was trying really hard not to laugh but the look on his face made it really hard. So I made the universal sign that I was shutting up and took a sip of my drink. I winced and looked up at him.
“This is as dry as your humor, Houston. Where in the hell did you find it?”
He shrugged. “The wine aisle.”
“The wine aisle?” I said in disbelief as Jorge picked up the bottle and looked it over. “You got it from a grocery store?”
“Where else?”
“To get a good dry wine, you should always visit a wine store or a wine bar,” Jorge said expertly.
“Says the man who comes from money,” Houston said, placing the frying pan on the table after putting some meat on his tortilla and leaving Jorge’s plate empty. “How was I supposed to know there are special stores for that shit?”
“I thought you were a detective, Houston,” I joked.
He shot me a glare and then turned to his dinner. “You shouldn’t be drinking anyways. I was only indulging you when I bought it.”
“Well I’m definitely not drinking it now. It tastes like grape flavored piss water.” I made to get up but Jorge stopped me.
“I’ll get it. What do you want?”
“Sprite is fine.”
His fingers lingered a little too long on my arm and out of the corner of my eye I saw Houston spot it. He didn’t say anything but I could see the wheels turning in his head. I knew by the time Jorge got back to the table something would’ve been said and I wasn’t disappointed.
After the first taste of my fajita and a compliment to Jorge for doing a good job finishing, Houston said, “So. Who’s going to spill the beans?”
I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
Houston kept his eyes on the plate. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Jorge put the soda can on the table in front of me and settled back in his seat. “Kelvin, let it go.”
But I quickly learned Houston wasn’t going to let it go. He never let anything go. He looked up at me, ignoring his partner completely. “Elina.”
“I already told you, it’s not my place…”
“And I told you that the file was doctored. So, its time you told me what’s going on.”
“Currently, nothing.” I hid my uneasiness by taking another bite of my food.
“You don’t lie well, Elina.”
“And your interrogation skills still suck, Houston. I told you, when you stopped viewing Bradford Jimenez as a victim, then I would tell you. From what I can see, you still consider him an open case file that you’re just itching to close.”
“Everyone deserves justice, Elina. Even if they are scum of the earth.”
“He was worse than scum of the earth,” Jorge put in, staring down at his wine glass. “In my opinion, I hope he’s burning in hell.”
“Did you do something wrong?” Houston asked him. “Is that why your uncle doctored the file?”
“Uncle?”
Jorge looked up at me. “Mother’s side.”
“Oh.” That explained the last name difference. “The Chief isn’t protecting anyone but me.” I gave Houston a brief smile. “George has nothing to do with it. He was just following orders. You should just let it go for now.”
Houston ignored the obvious nickname and my suggestion. “So if he was trying to protect you then he made you a deal. What was it?”
“Kelvin,” Jorge said as he pushed away from the table abruptly. “A word.”
Both men left the table and I was left staring down at a plate of food that no longer looked appetizing.