In Too Deep: A Romantic Suspense Novel (54 page)

"Three," I whispered into the cacophony of the CD player music, opening the door and slipping into the hallway. The hallway was clear, I had been lucky so far. Either nobody had seen the shot, or they weren't sure where it had come from yet. Still, I didn't expect my luck to hold out forever, so I jogged down the hallway to the stairs to the roof, making my way up and out. The late twilight gave little illumination to the rooftop, but it was helped by the diffused city lights around. Moving quickly but not rushing, I made my way to the end of the roof, looking across at the next roof. It wasn't too far, just over seven feet, so I backed up a little bit and took a light running jump, landing with a little thrill on the other side.

"Didn't suck," I said to myself, enjoying the adrenalin rush. I heard yelling from below and behind me, someone had found my room. Picking up the pace, I started running, not even pausing as I jumped the next two roofs, before facing the big choice. If I was confident, I could take this building's fire escape down to the street level and disappear onto the light rail system. If not, I could turn right and flee another three blocks before taking another fire escape, but my escape route would then be going through the city storm drains for over a mile before emerging and then catching a city bus.

Looking behind me, I couldn't see anyone. While my lead may only have been a few minutes, it was enough. Chucking my Glock to the side, not wanting to get caught with one by a local cop, I took the fire escape, controlling my slide down the ladder using my hands. It's harder than it looks, especially when the ladder is old and a bit rusty. The hardest part actually was the end, when I was faced with a twelve foot drop. They make those fire escapes hard to climb up for a reason, after all. Still, even dangling, I was a good six feet above the ground, and the drop onto the trash littered street below didn't look all that inviting. Saying a quick prayer that there were no rusty nails or drug needles below me, I let go.

Thankfully, the worst that I landed on was an old flyer for the weekly discounts at the local department store. Brushing off my hands, I pulled the gloves off and tucked them in my pocket to be washed and disposed of later. Walking calmly to the train stop, I only had to wait three minutes before the next train. Stepping on, I held my cool until the doors closed, and I found a seat. Only then did I start to let the tremors begin in my hands.

T
he news
of Illuysas Petrokias' death barely made page four of the local papers. He was a low life who got shot in a club that was known more for the size of the waitresses' breasts than those of the chicken dishes. His death was only notable because of the fact that he had been sniped from a long distance, although the police would only say they were following leads. Considering that the police worked for Owen Lynch, I doubted they would get too far, although I pitied the poor detective who had been assigned the case. I was sure they would get stonewalled at every turn.

Han Faoxin, or more accurately Anita Han, on the other hand, was front page news. A celebrated, popular, and quite beautiful teacher at one of the best high schools in the state being killed in her own classroom was the stuff of television reports and lots of press coverage. For the next three days, there were daily reports and updates from obviously flummoxed reporters who kept trying to put a new spin on what obviously was no new information.

I had to admit, it was quite dramatic. The grainy images of me, clad in my loose fitting coveralls and my false ID soon flooded the local newscasts, highlighted by the fact that after the kill, I had apparently just walked off casually, like I didn't have a single care in the world. One local newscaster had even put forth the theory that I was some sort of new serial killer, even though there was no other crime like it in recent memory. I didn’t like that I had to do it in the school, but any other way would have been very dangerous.

On a quieter level, I could see the effect the two deaths had caused. The signs were subtle, but in my next few night patrols, I saw there was less cooperation among the street level thugs used by the various Confederation members. Members working for one member who were in the territory of another were treated with more suspicion, and each person's territory was patrolled a bit more vigilantly than before.

Sal Giordano being at Petrokias' shooting actually was a lucky break in our favor. I could understand why. After all, why was the smaller Confederation member hit while the big boss man himself not even shot at? The fact that Sophie had used a specially configured AR-15, a weapon that I was known to favor, raised even more questions. Was the hit done by me? But if so, how, when the room was rented to a woman, and the clerk swore that nobody else went in the room? If it was me, why didn't I take a shot at Sal, or was I working for him again? Was this just a way for Sal to unleash an unknown factor into the carefully balanced Confederation system?

Of course there were questions pointed at Owen Lynch as well. However, the death of Han Faoxin sowed even more confusion in that area. The Confederation wasn't sure what to think once the word got out who had actually been killed. The suspicion on Sal Giordano increased even further, as he was one of the few Confederation members who knew who she was, and routinely claimed to meet her in person.

"All in all, a good start," I told Sophie a week after the hits, as we were reviewing the paperwork to put Tabby in charge of our investments in the city. The biggest headache was setting up another shell corporation, which we named MJT Holdings. Thankfully, while a basic pain in the ass, I'd done shell corporations plenty of times before, and had a connection with a lawyer's office in Connecticut that could get us the paperwork quickly.

"So what's next?" Sophie asked, rubbing at her stomach.

I noticed she was looking a bit pale, and was concerned. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes tightening a little bit. "Yeah, just feeling a bit weird. I hope it's what we're wanting, and not that my smoothie I had for a mid-morning snack was bad."

My pulse quickened at the idea, and a silly little smile crept up my face. "You think it could be?"

"That my smoothie was off? It's a distinct possibility," Sophie joked, before giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Relax, my love. Let's just wait until I miss a period, then get a home test. It's only been a few weeks, you can't tell this fast, not that I know of anyway. We've got other things to think about anyway."

"Yeah, like how we're going to entertain our houseguest," I said, thinking of Tabby. Since finding her in such a depressed state, Sophie had insisted, although I couldn't argue, and besides, it was nice having another person around such a large home. While Sophie and I did have a cleaning service come by twice a week, it was a large house, and I honestly felt like we were rattling around in it half the time. "By the way, I like the new red. A bit more flamboyant than before, isn't it?"

"It was, but we both agreed that a bit of overcompensation would help her mood. You know, kind of the whole fake it until you make it sort of thing," she replied, flipping a page on the document she was reading. I had to give Sophie credit, perhaps it was because of all the years of reading complicated medical stuff, but she had picked up reading business contracts with an eerie speed. There were a few times at first that I'd had to explain a few of the legal terms to her, but after that she was off and running on her own. "Caught something."

"What?" I asked, looking over from my computer where I was focusing on the next steps of our end game plan.

"Just a number error. On page four it says that Tabby will be compensated with fifteen percent of net profit, while on page six it says that she would be compensated with twenty five percent. Which do you want?"

"Twenty five," I said automatically. "What did we decide was the low ball of her pay?"

"Two hundred thousand a year, plus the house, cars, and other stuff. Not that she'd even be close to it with the twenty five percent. She'll be rubbing elbows with the one percenters very quickly with this."

I nodded. "Good. I was thinking, when we come back into town, we're going to need new identities."

"Yeah, you mentioned that before. I know you have the documents ready, but what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking," I said, typing a few words on my keyboard to adjust something in our plan, "that Tabby could use a butler and maid."

Sophie looked over at me, making sure I was serious before grinning. "I think she just might. After all, this property is large enough for a servant's quarters. It would most likely be a very luxurious servant's quarters as well."

"Damn right," I said. "Maybe we can tell her about it this evening. By the way, how was her return to work today?"

"Seamless," Sophie said. "Our cover story of having her do out of office business trips went over perfectly with her bosses, especially when I came in there and stuck my boobs in their faces along with a pile of contracts for three more businesses."

I laughed and looked over, admitting to myself that Sophie looked especially beautiful that day. "Okay then. And she knows to use the excuse of a business dinner to get out of there by six tonight, right?"

"Either that or you show up as the business peacock and start making a scene," Sophie answered.

"There are downsides to every plan."

T
hat evening
, Tabby was shocked into silence as we showed her the contract for her new position. She read it over twice, her jaw dropping in more than one place as details jumped out at her. "You're serious with this?"

"Dead serious," I replied, muting the television. "Tabby, it's not just a cushy little job, you realize. While there is a basement level compensation there, your job won't be about just the money."

"What will it be?" Tabby asked. "The details are pretty generic honestly."

Sophie took over for me, which I was glad for. "Once our plan goes down, the city is going to have some very gigantic power vacuums. The political one should be filled relatively quickly, there are too many politicians who are more than willing to step up into Owen Lynch's shoes. By using some financial pressure, we can guide them quietly. But the bigger and more dangerous area is going to be in those very businesses that Mark and I have invested in. Tell me, what do they all have in common?"

"Just like you told me to look for, all of them are physically located in areas that are normally considered gang areas, but are clean themselves. Most of them are also in fields of business that have had a high level of corruption from the Confederation."

"Exactly. What do you think is going to happen in those neighborhoods when the Confederation goes down, and Owen Lynch's corruption is rooted out?" Sophie sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees while I listened the intensity creep into her voice. It was a part of Sophie that had never changed from her days working in the hospital. She was a person who wanted a better world than the one we were living in.

"In the long term, I hope that things are better for everyone," Tabby said, "But the short term is going to be turbulent."

"Turbulent is a mild word," I interjected. "The fact is Tabby, things are going to be seriously fucked up. Once the state and Feds come through, a lot of high up cops are going to be arrested, and the department is going to not have the support of the community. Meanwhile, the Confederation imploding doesn't mean that all of them are going to be arrested. Most of them won't, in fact. A lot of the higher ups are going to be dead, but the low level guys, the street soldiers, they're still going to be out there. Your job is to guide the businesses, keep them clean, and prevent them from being taken advantage of by the leftover criminals. Those neighborhoods and industries are going to need bedrocks to lean on, and the MJT Holdings are going to be those bedrocks."

Tabby sat back and considered the ramifications of what we were asking her to do. "The rebuilding is going to be harder than taking these guys down."

"It always is," I said. "So are you up for it?"

Tabby thought for only a second. "It says in here that I get a maid and butler. What's up with that?"

"You're going to need your own street soldiers," I said. "And with me out playing Dark Knight, I'm going to need a good place for my wife and child to grow up, somewhere safe where they have family with them all the time."

Tabby took the news in, then without another word got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. I heard her rummaging around in a drawer for a moment before it slammed, then a moment later she came back in, handing me the document. "Deal. I'll notify the firm tomorrow that I'm resigning."

After Tabby had gone off to the bath, Sophie came over and sat in my lap. "Thank you," she said, kissing me on the lips. "Although it still worries me that you still think you have to be a street level operative."

"I do," I said quietly, kissing her back. "The nice part is though that I shouldn't have to be in direct violence as often. Patrols, the proper use of fear, and dropping information to the suddenly more honest police force will be far more effective than what we have to do now."

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go out there by yourself all the time?" Sophie asked, kissing me again. "Maybe I like the vigilante life too."

"I'm not surprised, but you have a more important job," I said, pulling her close. Our kisses grew softer, and I moaned when Sophie climbed into my lap. "You're going to be raising the next generation, remember?"

"You too," Sophie replied, stroking my face and kissing me. Her tongue traced along my lower lip, and I could feel the slowly growing pressure of my cock hardening inside my loose house pants. Pressing her body against mine, we kissed slowly and sensuously. I stroked my hands up and down the soft skin of her back, relishing the amazing blend of soft curves and firm muscle I found underneath. She was quite the femme fatale compared to the medical student I'd fallen in love with while discussing Hans Zimmer music. Still, she was just as wonderful, and I was more in love with Sophie than ever.