Rogue Alliance (22 page)

             
“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,” h
er 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 shoutin
g. 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 sh
ouldn’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,
“a
ll 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 slid
e
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 cal
ling 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 t
here 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
be
en
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 s
he 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 whis
key 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 he
r career, her choices, her life.
Would she be disappointed that she was mixed up with criminals? But she was t
rying to rid the world of them
, she reasoned
.

Sha
k
ing 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 sho
ulder 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 bottl
e 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.

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

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

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

             
“Sure,” she said,
“c
all 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 h
er 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 disas
trous 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.

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

             
“Control freak,
huh?
” Shyla laughed,
“t
hat 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,
“b
ut 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 he
r 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.”

             
S
lowly s
he stood up an
d
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, t
hanks for the pizza. I had fun kicking your butt at poker. Next time we should play with real money.”

             
Jesus. G
ambling, 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.”