Page 56 of Shadows of Justice

Chapter Eighteen - Fallen Angel

Saturday, July 25th

Iwrench open the door and slam it closed behind me, the flickering single bulb doing nothing to improve the repulsive four-stall bathroom. I have no time to check if I’m alone before I reach the toilet, spilling the whiskey in my stomach into the bowl.

I heave until there’s nothing left, memories of the black blade against my skin flickering through my mind. With my eyes pinched shut my mind fills with Trismo’s depthless gaze, the sharpened points of his teeth. I see them, unbidden, biting and tearing into my flesh like the feral animal he is.

I’m scared, but even more—I’m angry. I’m angry that this piece of shit was able to get such a reaction out of me. And that I was so close to being done with this ass-backwards mission and it slipped just out of my grasp at the very last moment.

At least I know where the iron oxide is. I just need to get back in the storeroom one more time to take a few pictures and then I can get the fuck out of here.

My heart is racing faster than it does on a five-mile run. I wipe my mouth with toilet paper and flush, touching as little as possible with my skin. Every surface in this place looks like it’s crawling with disease. I do a quick check of all the stalls, thankfully finding them empty. Then I go to the sink to rinse my mouth out and splash water on my face, not caring if it makes my makeup run. The wound on my cheek has darkened, the bright lights doing very little for the contrast against my pallid complexion. My eyes are bloodshot, and a red vein spiderwebs its way through my right eyeball, no doubt from the force of my heaving. My chin quivers as another wave of fear takes hold of me.

I have severely underestimated how dangerous this is. I did not expect the leader of one of LA’s most notorious gangs to be my welcoming committee.

“Viv.”

I startle at the sudden voice, my ankle wobbling in my too-high heels.

“Genevieve, can you hear me?”

The voice in my ear is quiet, distant even, but there’s no mistaking it. I could recognize that voice after a ten-year coma. It washes over me like a balm, soothing my frazzled nerves and stilling my convulsing heart.

“Leo?” I ask, still looking at my reflection.

“Sí. Baby, please—tell me you’re okay.”

My face crumples, the force of the sob I want to let out practically crippling, but I bite it back. I can’t lose it now. My life might depend on keeping it together.

“I’m okay,” I say, to Leo and to my reflection. I hear a heavy sigh.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks, the desperation in his voice there for a different reason now than I’d like it to be.

“I’m sorry. I know this is crazy,” I say. “I’m so close though. I found the iron oxide. I just have to take a picture of it and then I’m out of here.”

“Genevieve, this is suicide,” Leo says. “Every minute you spend in there is another minute they can discover you. I don’t know if this’ll make things better or worse for you to know, but Trismo is there. I saw him walk in.” I grimace, remembering my earlier interaction with the very man himself.

“I know,” I say through gritted teeth. “We . . . met.”

“You talked to Trismo?” Leo yells, loud enough to make the earpiece vibrate.

He continues in an incoherent, rushed flurry of Spanish that I don’t understand, and then I hear the beeping of a car door opening, followed by footsteps over the tinny projection of the bud in my ear.

“Leo?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

He’s not listening to me. He’s cursing to himself, and if I’m picking up any of what he’s saying, he’s vowing to kill Trismo or anyone that touches me in some very vibrant ways. I tap my foot and bite the inside of my cheek, listening to the noise on the other end of the line. But then, it all goes quiet. I can’t hear a thing. Not even breathing.

“Leo!” I say, whisper-shouting at nothing.

With the invisible earpiece, anyone watching me would think I’m insane. I must be in shock, because the thought makes me snicker, despite my situation.

Suddenly, I hear glass breaking at the other end of the bathroom. I whirl around, about to remove the knife from my boot, when Leo walks out of the large stall at the end of the room.

Home.

My insides melt, everything about his determined stride and darkened gaze shouting knight in shining armor. He’s wearing all black, his hair in a messy knot as if he’s been pulling at the strands. He walks swiftly to me and takes me in his arms, holding me tightly. I breathe him in, letting him surround me, fill me. All I want is to be wrapped in a never-ending cocoon of Leo.

The door to the bathroom starts to open, and he stops it in its tracks with a palm against the door.

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