Rogue Alliance

TWENTY-TWO



Shyla’s footsteps echoed down the hall as she followed the security guard to the visitors’ area. She dreaded seeing Victor, but she needed to see him face to face. After the incident the day before, she assumed he at the very least had some questions.

“You have ten minutes,” the guard said.

Shyla nodded and stepped into the small room, taking a seat in the only chair, opposite the spot where Victor sat with only glass between them. She picked up the phone.

“What in the hell is going on, Victor,” her voice trembled.

His eyes were intelligent, hyper-alert.

“I was hoping you could tell me,” he said.

“I don’t know. I’m so confused. I mean, one minute I’m waiting in the car, the next I hear shouting. I didn’t know what to do, but I was worried. I went to find you and saw those men with guns and knew you needed help so I turned off the light.”

“You shouldn’t have been up there,” he said, his tone sharp.

Shyla cringed.

“What was I supposed to do? What was going on up there, Victor? Why did those men have guns?”

He shook his head, gaze narrowed.

“I’m still not sure of that myself. It’s all mixed up. What I can’t figure out is who put a call in to the cops. I mean, I’m glad they were there, who knows what could have happened had they not shown up, but still…”

“Who cares who did?” Shyla cut in, “all I know is that I’ve been worried sick. I was taken into custody and questioned till late last night. I’m so tired. I had to call into work because I obviously can’t show up today, and I have no clue why my boyfriend is behind bars. What’s going on?”

She let a tear slide down her cheek.

Victor’s eyes softened. He bent his head and sighed.

“I bet it’s been scary for you, Shyla.”

He looked up again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for our weekend to end up like this. I know it’s confusing, but don’t worry, this will all work out. I can’t say much right now, but I promise I’ll explain it all when I get out. My arraignment’s on Wednesday.”

“Wednesday? But I have to get home. I have to go to work.”

“I know. I’ll talk to my pilot. He’ll get you home this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay,” Shyla sniffed, nodding.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get home. I promise.”



*



Shyla was spent by the time the plane hit the tarmac at the Redding Airport on Monday evening. She considered calling Hal but quickly tossed the thought aside. When she’d called Sunday evening to say she wouldn’t be in Monday morning, Hal had been concerned. In order not to worry him, she explained that there had been a slight change of plans but everything was okay. She knew he’d be furious when he found out that she’d lied, but there was too much going on to be adding more to the chaos. He would have told Shawn and Jason and then all three of them would have been up in arms about the mess she was in. No need to get them all worked up when she could handle it on her own. Plus she had Eli on her side. And there was very little they could have done from Redding, anyway. So, she figured they could sit tight and wait until she got home.

As she hailed a cab, her mind was tired and dull. She concluded that one more night before talking with them wouldn’t hurt. She’d need her wits about her to deal with those three.

The idea of her bed was alluring. The thought of a strong shot of whiskey was tempting. All day, visions of her mother had been haunting her; the way she tilted her head to the right when she laughed, the melodic rhythm of her soft voice, all the happy memories of when she’d been alive. She rarely thought of her mother. Not because she didn’t like to, but because of the inevitable thoughts of her father which always followed; the link between them seemed unbreakable and she mourned being able to think only of her mother, only of the good.

But all day she’d felt the odd sensation that her mother was somehow with her, following her around and watching her every move. She wondered what her mother would think of her career, her choices, her life. Would she be disappointed that she was mixed up with criminals? But she was trying to rid the world of them, she reasoned.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she paid the cab driver and walked toward her apartment.

“It’s about time you got home.”

Carmen was sitting at the top of her stairway. For the love of God, why can’t I catch a break? Shyla thought.

“We were supposed to have a workout tonight after you got off work remember?” Carmen’s voice was harsh and accusatory. It set Shyla’s nerves on edge. She shifted the bag she had slung over her shoulder and stepped around Carmen, pulling out her keys. Exhaustion reigned supreme and she had no sympathy.

“Gee, I must have forgotten. Come back later. I’m going to bed. I suggest you go home and do the same.”

Carmen stood up and stared her down.

“I’m not going to bed. It’s only eight o’clock. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Shyla turned to close the front door and caught the look on Carmen’s face. Sheer pain and vulnerability occupied every feature. Yep, Shyla thought, I’m a huge disappointment.

“I’m sorry Carmen,” she sighed, “I didn’t mean that. I’m just tired. I’ve had a shitty day. Come in.”

Carmen hesitated, but finally shuffled forward with puppy dog eyes.

“Okay.”

Shyla tossed her bag to the floor and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

“I was out of town and my flight home was delayed,” she said, “I had to call in to work. My plane just got in half an hour ago. That’s why I wasn’t home. I’m sorry.”

She pulled the bottle of whiskey down and took three deep swallows, enjoying they way it took her breath away and opened up her sinuses.

“Can I have some?” Carmen asked.

“Psh. Hell no, you can’t have some,” Shyla capped the bottle and put it up on the highest shelf.

“Well, I bet you’re hungry,” Carmen said, "I could go grab us some food. We could just play cards and hang out for awhile.”

Did the girl not hear her just say she was dog tired? Shyla sighed.

“Sure,” she said, “call up some pizzas. Extra pepperoni. I’m going to jump in a hot shower.”

Tired or not, she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. There was too much on her mind. And, truth be told, she kind of wanted the company. She popped her head around her bedroom door.

“And stay out of the liquor cabinet.”

An hour later, she felt warm and fuzzy from the inside out. They’d been playing poker, betting with toothpicks, and she’d been drinking steadily throughout the game. The disastrous events of the weekend lingered only on the murky outskirts of her mind, almost like they didn’t exist.

Carmen was staring at her with a smirk.

“Maybe you should drink more often,” she said, “you lose that uptight, control freak side of you and chill out for once.”

“Control freak, huh?” Shyla laughed, “that doesn’t sound very cool at all.”

They sat on the floor with cards spread about and giggled.

“Yeah, I guess I’m a bit of a tight-ass,” she conceded, “but the answer isn’t alcohol. Alcohol is bad. Stay away from it.”

She lay back and stared at the ceiling. It started to spin.

“This coming from the drunk lady rolling around on the floor and slurring her words,” Carmen observed.

“I’m serious,” Shyla said, trying to compose herself, “I know I’m not setting a good example right now, but I’m an adult and I’ve had a rough day. Besides, I’m not drunk. I’ve only had a few drinks.”

Slowly she stood up and only swayed slightly. See, she was perfectly fine. “Anyway, I need to get to bed. I’ve got to work in the morning.”

Carmen picked up the cards and gathered her coat.

“Okay, thanks for the pizza. I had fun kicking your butt at poker. Next time we should play with real money.”

Jesus. Gambling, drinking, swearing, what was she teaching this kid?

“I let you win,” she said, “I won’t go so easy on you next time, kid.”

“Sure, sure.”

Carmen was standing but suddenly had a serious look on her face.

“Did you really kill your dad?” she blurted.

Shyla halted mid-step. Her throat tightened.

“Where did you hear that?”

Carmen blushed and stared down at her feet.

“You know…around. People talk. Don’t worry though. I don’t believe everything I hear. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Shyla leaned against the wall and pursed her lips.

“It’s okay. I uh…yeah…I did kill my dad. Stabbed him probably about eight or nine times, I don’t really recall exactly. I was fourteen and was sick of him abusing me, so I killed the son-of-a-bitch. My psychiatrist said I had a mental break-down. You probably heard that my mom killed herself too.”

Carmen was silent and shook her head with a dumbfounded expression.

“Well she did. She couldn’t take it…any of it. So in a way, maybe I killed her too,” Shyla felt like the world was getting smaller and closing in around her.

“Don’t say that,” Carmen said quietly, “you were just a kid. It’s not your fault that your dad was a sick-o. Your mom probably felt guilty for what you went through, not angry with you for what you did.”

The alcohol was clouding Shyla’s mind and toying with her emotions. She wanted to end this conversation before she regretted saying anything further.

“Look, Carmen, I’m not proud of my past and I don’t talk about it…ever. But I’m glad you know. Maybe now you will choose to make other friends. I’m not someone you want to hang out with.”

“But I do want to be your friend. I don’t have any other friends and my parents never want me around. I don’t care what you did all those years ago. I just want to learn kung fu and kick some ass.”

Carmen broke into a huge grin inviting her to share her good humor.

Shyla gave a thin smile.

“Suit yourself, kid. Now get on home. I’m beat.”

“I’ll see you Friday?” Carmen asked.

“Yeah. Friday. G’night.”

Shyla closed the door and leaned against it with a small smile on her face. She liked the kid. A moment later, she walked toward the kitchen and jumped when a loud knock resounded through the apartment. What did that kid want now, she wondered. She must have forgotten something.

She flung open the door and stood shocked as she stared up at Shawn. He looked angry.

He brushed past her and stepped into her apartment.

“What in the hell were you thinking going down to L.A.?”

“Well hello, Shawn. How are you? Nice to see you, too. Won’t you come in?”

Shawn stood in a wide stance. His hands were fisted.

“Drop the sarcasm, Shyla. I’m in no mood for your attitude. You know what I’m talking about. You were supposed to go to San Fran, not make a side trip to LA and get your targets arrested before we even have a case.”

Shyla walked past him and down the hall.

“Well, I see that rumor spreads fast. How did you hear?”

“Eli gave Hal a call and he talked with us about an hour ago.”

Shyla poured herself a shot and downed it.

“Well that’s nice,” she said, “now I don’t have to.”

Shawn stomped toward her.

“Is this a f*cking joke to you? You could have been killed. And for what? We all know that they’ll get out on bail.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad, Shawn. It all goes on the books regardless. It’s all part of building a case. When Victor finally does go down, all of this will be accounted for. It’s not a waste. Now chill out. Besides, its not like I had a choice, they were going to kill Ricardo if I didn’t do something fast. I did the best I could given the situation.”

Shawn was standing practically nose to nose with her. She looked up. She’d never really noticed how tall he was. The look on his face took her by surprise. It was a mix between anger and concern and she suddenly realized that he was going to kiss her. It occurred to her a moment too late.

The force of the kiss took her by surprise. It was forceful and intense. She could sense that he was angry with her for his own feelings. He obviously didn’t want to feel whatever he was feeling toward her.

“God damn it!” He said through gritted teeth, pulling back quickly, “I…I have to go. Forget I even came by.”

He turned and marched down the hall and through her front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Shyla brushed a fingertip over her lips. She didn’t know what to think or feel. She hadn’t seen that one coming.