The Dead Don't Mourn

Chapter 2

Chapter 2The next evening, Ian met up with Hector in the gym for a sparring session. He hadn’t trained with Hector in a while. And the other man countered his moves expertly, forcing Ian to think quicker, move faster. Soon, both were panting and out of breath. Finally, they took a time out, retreating to opposite corners of the mat to cool off.

“Will you need us?” Hector asked, out of the blue.

Ian glanced up, forehead wrinkled. “What was that?”

Hector trotted over to join him. “Brookes. Will you need us?”

Ian shrugged, surprised by the question. Hector and Kalifa asked little of him. A request such as this was unusual.

“No, it doesn’t appear so. Why?”

Ian caught a flicker of worry in Hector’s dark eyes. “Kalifa could use the rest.”

Immediately, Ian wanted to ask why but reconsidered. As close as he and Hector were, they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Ian had always respected his and Kalifa’s space and they, his.

“That’s fine,” Ian answered, adding, “Are you up for another couple of rounds?”

Relief swept over Hector’s face, but he recovered quickly, nodding. Finished, Ian trudged back to the mat and got his hands up, and Hector followed suit. Then without a word, they returned to their session, going at it with everything they had. But still, their conversation hovered in the back of Ian’s mind, leaving him uneasy.

* * * *

Meanwhile, Adam had received a summons from Katherine and now stood alone in the massive hall outside her office, waiting. It had been ten minutes since Oliver had disappeared to inform Katherine he’d arrived. Impatient and ill at ease, Adam sighed, rubbing the tiny scar above his upper lip, lost to his troubled thoughts.

Days had passed since Edmund’s murder, but Adam had no idea. He’d come to, finding himself in the backseat of an SUV, dizzy and disoriented. Kalifa beside him. Hector’s dark shape at the wheel.

Adam could hardly make out Kalifa’s face in the gloom of the car’s interior. He opened his mouth to say something, to curse them, demand answers, but he couldn’t speak.

Kalifa shook her head. “Close your eyes and rest some more,” she said softly. “We’re almost home.”

Unable to answer her, Adam passed out once more.

When he awoke again, he found himself on the sofa in Katherine’s sitting room. Still drugged, but more awake now, though his thoughts remained clouded and disjointed.

Then, he saw Ian in the chair across from him, and the blood lust in him surged forth, renewed. Drugged or not, Adam fought to get his feet, desperate to get his hands on him.

“You sonofabitch. You motherfucker!” The words spat out with such ferocity Ian winced, his expression one of wretched helplessness as Adam fell back onto the sofa in an exhausted heap unsteady and unable to rise to his feet.

“That’s enough!” Katherine’s harsh command broke through the fog, surprising Adam, who hadn’t been aware of her presence. His attention solely focused on Ian, on his rage.

Adam’s head snapped in her direction. “No, it’s not enough! How could you do this? Why?” He demanded, turning the force of his fury on Katherine. “You made him do it! Didn’t you? You sick, twisted b***h!”

Katherine’s gasp was an audible whip cracking the tension in the room. Her face turned scarlet as she backhanded Adam across the face.

The force of her blow sent him reeling. His vision exploded before darkening to black. It returned, only to focus on the massive diamond on her hand and the speck of blood left behind to mar its beauty. Absently, Adam brought his fingers to his lips, surprised to find them bloodstained.

Coldly, Adam met her furious stare. “You should have killed me instead because I’m going to bury you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Katherine raised her arm to strike him again. But Ian caught her wrist, so silent and quick, neither heard his approach. Katherine whirled on him, looking stunned.

“Don’t,” Ian said. “Please.”

“How dare you?” She jerked away as if his touch alone insulted her.

Ian’s gaze landed over Adam’s shoulder towards the door. Katherine’s bodyguards. At least five, with Oliver leading the charge. Their fingers hovered inches from their weapons, eyes wide and cautious. But which of the three of them terrified them the most, Adam wasn’t sure.

Ian stepped back, his hands raised, quick to defuse the escalating tension.

But Katherine wasn’t so easy to appease. “Don’t put your hands on me. Ever again. Or I swear it will be the last time you draw breath. Both of you.”

The look she gave Adam then froze him from head to toe, and in an instant, he understood what she’d done to him and Ian both.

“I’m sorry, Katherine. You’re right. I promise it won’t happen again.” Ian fidgeted, as frightened and unsure as Adam had ever seen him. The contrast between the self-assured man Ian was and the scared little boy he saw now was terrifying. And eye-opening.

“You disgust me,” Adam said, his voice oddly calm, though a million miles away. “You both do,” he added, encouraged by their startled expressions as they loomed above him. Now strange and sinister shadows. Wax figures whose elongated faces swam in and out of his clouded vision.

Ian’s face fell, crumbling like the side of a mountain. He visibly shook as he opened his mouth before shutting it in a hurry, unable to speak. Then his shoulders dropped, facing away from him as if Adam’s mere gaze had the power to stop his heart dead where he stood.

“She’s ready for you,” Oliver called, snapping him from memory.

Adam nodded, composing himself quickly before entering Katherine’s inner sanctum.

“You asked to see me?”

Katherine held up a finger. He’d interrupted her in the middle of a heated phone conversation. An exchange she didn’t appear thrilled to have Adam privy to as her eyes followed his every move. Adam sat and made himself as comfortable as her presence allowed.

“Is that all?” She exhaled the question while shooting withering glances in Adam’s direction. “Yes, you’ll have the results we agreed to. Yes, Friday. We’ll reconnect then. Good day.” She hung up, her expression stony, irritated, and lost in thought.

“Another satisfied customer?”

Her lips twitched as she took her seat, ignoring the question. “Have you been taking care of yourself, dear? You look terrible.”

“Kind of you, Mother,” Adam answered as he picked at the dirt under his fingernails, bored-like. “Ian said you wanted to speak with me.”

“I did, but there seems to be a sulky brat in place of my son.”

“What can I help you with, Katherine?” Adam tried again, curbing his sarcasm. “Is it urgent?”

“Do you think you might at least be able to make yourself more kept?” She gestured to his wardrobe, a worn pair of jeans and a too-big tee-shirt.

Adam chuckled under his breath. “I was heading to bed, not an evening at the opera.”

Katherine sighed, and reached across the desk to slide him a USB drive. “Read this, and when you get back from your trip, we’ll discuss the contents. In the meantime, I suggest you think about what kind of role you’d like to have within this organization. Understood?”

Adam nodded. “Understood.”

“Good, because this next assignment will be a challenge. And one I would not ask of you under normal circumstances. But as you’ll see, Costa is not our usual target, and tracking him has been difficult, to say the least.”

“But yet, you expect me to find him somehow and kill him? What makes you think I’ll have any luck?”

“I suggest you read the file, dear. Costa isn’t your target.”

* * * *

Over the next few days, the mansion erupted in a flurry of activity as Adam solidified Brookes’ hit. Carefully, Adam curated roles for each of them. Regan would play the part of a single woman on a mini self-care vacation. Mei and Ian would pose as a couple on a romantic getaway, which would help minimize Ian’s scary as s**t demeanor, as Adam so succinctly put it. Finally, Vince and Adam would bunk together as college buddies on a break from school.

If all went as Adam had planned, the entire thing should run like a well-oiled machine. Brookes’ goons, the cops, could sweep the whole place and never find out who amongst them had pulled the trigger.

On the plane ride to Miami, the group’s mood turned somber. Tensions were high, and even the trio, a usual whirlwind of activity, remained subdued.

Ian watched Adam out of the corner of his eye as he sat across from Vince playing a quiet game of rummy.

Adam barely acknowledged Ian’s presence, never once looking in his general direction. But Ian could feel their mutual awareness of the other.

Finally, fed up, Ian retreated to the rear of the plane. Mei followed him, holding something in her hand. Their wedding rings.

Fondly, she smiled as if attempting to cheer him up. But Ian wasn’t sure how playing pretend house would fix his gloomy mood.

“Here you are, husband, take it off, and I’ll break your neck,” she quipped.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, wife,” he threw back, twisting the gold band onto his ring finger.

Mei flashed him a sad tiny grin, and as if sensing he wished to be alone, disappeared to join the rest of the group.

Once they had landed, everyone collected their luggage and separate vehicles. Vince and Adam in one. Regan alone and Ian with Mei.

Mei kept stealing sideways long glances at him as they drove to the Fisher Island resort. Finally, Ian switched on the radio, settling on the sort of bland pop music he usually hated. Today, the music served as a distraction and a clear sign Ian had no desire to chit chat. Mei gave him space, but he could all but hear the cogs in her brain spinning.

Once they arrived, they checked in under their aliases—John and Julie Amos, collecting their keycard. A bellboy followed them to their room with their luggage.

“Oh my God, baby,” Mei crooned, in character now, wearing white short-shorts and a striped halter top. Her oversized sunglasses perched precariously on top of her head. “This place is ah-mazing.” She threw open the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, letting in a bright burst of sun.

Ian squinted, forcing himself to play along as he dug into his khaki shorts for his wallet. “Glad you like it, babe,” he mumbled as he passed a ten-dollar bill over to the guy.

Mei came over and wrapped her arms around Ian, beaming up at him. “I love it here already,” she said.

The bellboy quickly made his excuses and left. The door closed, and now alone, Mei disentangled herself from Ian. “Well, you could at least try and play along, you know?”

“I’m wearing f*****g sandals, aren’t I?” He tossed his luggage on the bed, suddenly desperate for a hot shower and a change of clothes.

“Can you hang on a second?” Mei called out, stopping him before Ian could retreat to the safety of the bathroom.

Ian sighed, bracing himself for the incoming conversation he’d been dreading. He dropped the items in hand onto the bed, facing her. Her lips twisted and pinched as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,” he muttered, but she pressed on undeterred.

“Ian? I’m serious. We need to talk. It’s important.”

Ian sighed, fed up. “What is it?”

She closed the distance between them. “You need to fix things with Adam.” Mei’s forehead sharpened and creased with worry. And Ian did not doubt her sincerity. But he wanted neither her sincerity nor her pity.

“And don’t you dare tell me it doesn’t concern me,” she carried on, reading his mind to an uncanny degree. He shivered, glancing away. “It concerns me. It concerns us all. Because if we can’t trust each other, we’re as good as dead.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re going on about.” Ian considered playing dumb but nixed the idea. Mei would never buy it. Not from him, anyway.

“I guess I need to spell it out, huh?” She countered, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “Morale sucks. You need to make peace with him.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Ian’s self-loathing, a noisy secret scratched the surface of his thoughts. “I killed someone he loved,” he added, hardly able to utter the words. “You and I both know there’s no coming back from that.”

Mei’s face fell in sympathy. “Tell him the truth. You should tell him the truth. You didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“You’re underestimating him. You always do—”

“Save it.” Ian bolted for the door, unable to take the hurt he found in her gaze. And though she’d never say it out loud. Something, in her opinion of him, had shifted; a veil lifted. She, like Adam, would never forgive him for the decision he’d made that night. None of them would.

“Where are you going?”

She might as well have been his wife, for the look on her face—the disappointment. Great, now he had to give a s**t. About her feelings, Adam, f**k Adam, and wasn’t that the problem, that he couldn’t?

“Jesus Christ, I need some air. Is that okay with you?”

Mei threw up her hands. “Fine, but you’re not off the hook. We’re going to finish talking about this whether you want to or not.”

Ian rolled his eyes but didn’t further argue the point. Instead, he stormed out of their suite and away from her accusing stare.

* * * *

Still smarting over his earlier argument with Mei, Ian headed off to drink himself into a stupor.

Eventually, after wandering in circles, he found a bar. Its tacky tiki decor irritated him. He stood outside the entrance, not sure if he should stay or go. Finally, Ian conceded. If he wanted to get a buzz tonight, this would have to do. But he and his building headache weren’t thrilled with the idea.

Lounge music, whiny and insistent, drifted in from the open door. Inside, the place looked as if no one had bothered to redecorate it since the 1970s—a nightmare of cheap faux wood-paneled walls and cheaper lighting.

“What can I get you?” The bartender jerked his chin in his direction.

Ian sat down with an exaggerated sigh. “Scotch. Expensive.” Adding, “That is, if you have anything back there worth more than fifty bucks.”

The bartender barely suppressed his eye roll before disappearing to fetch Ian’s drink. Miserable, Ian waited, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Not much of a problem. There were only a handful of people scattered around the room—couples, older, laughing together.

Ian attempted to roll the tension from his neck, grateful when the bartender slid his drink over and sauntered away so Ian could brood in peace. He took a sip, grimaced. Whatever they had served him wasn’t worth ten bucks, let alone fifty. But if it did the trick and got him drunk, he wasn’t going to complain. Ian considered waving the bartender back and telling him to leave the bottle. But before he could, a voice interrupted his pity party.

“Trouble in paradise?”

The man beside him looked to be around sixty. White-haired, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, baggy swim trunks. Socks up to his knees, for Christ’s sake.

Ian reached for his drink. “Not as wonderful as the brochures would have you believe.”

The man laughed out loud, slapping Ian on the back. Frustrated and on edge, Ian fought not to break his head open for the gesture.

The older man gestured towards the wedding ring Ian wore. “Come here with your Mrs.?”

Ian glanced down at his ring finger, having forgotten about it altogether. “Yeah, I left her in the room, though.”

Ian wasn’t sure why he was indulging this guy. He supposed the alternative was worse—sitting alone, stewing in his thoughts. And besides, he didn’t appear to want anything from him besides conversation.

The man chuckled. “Mine is out somewhere playing bingo. Bingo! We could have stayed in Des Moines if she wanted to play bingo.”

“She’s mad at me,” Ian mumbled, waving down the bartender. One drink wasn’t going to cut it—not tonight. “I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes—” Ian paused, unsure. “I don’t know. I know she needs time—”

“Sometimes time is a luxury we don’t have. You love her?”

Ian flinched, grateful when the bartender caught his eye and set off to grab his drink. “Yeah,” he answered under his breath.

“Does she love you?

“I don’t know. Once maybe.” Ian lowered his head. “Maybe I’ve ruined that too.”

“Okay, let me guess,” The man offered, warming up to his assessment. “You played around on her a little, didn’t you? I hear you, that’s not a brilliant spot to be in, but my lady and I went through something similar once. I had to bow, scrape, and beg, but she forgave me in the end. These things take time.”

“Time,” Ian grumbled into his glass, heart-sick.

“Yeah, you have to be willing to put time into your relationship. Show her you’ll go the extra mile.”

Ian snorted. If only “I’m sorry” and a bouquet could fix the mess he’d made. “Easier said than done.”

The man shrugged. “True, but trust me, it starts by asking for forgiveness. By humbling yourself.”

“I think you mean groveling?”

“Sure, if you can’t live without her. You do what it takes.”

Before Ian could respond, the man’s cell phone resting on the bar, vibrated. The image of a middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair and a warm, sweet smile flashed on the screen. The man broke into laughter as he checked the text message she sent. “Well, it looks as if the wife won big and is looking to celebrate. I’d better not keep her waiting.” Pocketing his phone, the man reached for his wallet to pay, but Ian stopped him.

“I got this.”

The man shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, son. Especially seeing how down in the dumps you are.”

“No, really,” Ian insisted. “You go be with your wife.”

“Chin up,” the man encouraged. “These things have a way of working themselves out.”

Ian flashed him a half-hearted grin. “We’ll see,” he said as his new friend headed out, waving to Ian at the door before disappearing into the night.

Unnerved by the entire conversation, Ian turned back to his seat, grateful his new drink had arrived.