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“Why did you do it?”

The words fell softly from her lips, reverberating in the still air of the dark factory. She never really looked very dangerous with her ratty blue jeans, white t-shirt, work gloves, and messy black hair, but then she would speak and you would realize that this was a woman who was not to be fucked with. Ariella Valentine said what she thought, did what she said, and was completely terrifying while doing it.

“I didn’t know it was your bar, I swear!”

The man clutching at his obviously broken leg was weeping like a. Well. I couldn’t say weeping like a girl because Valentine would have had a field day with that, but he was weeping like a pussbag all the same. Honestly, I was just surprised that he had tried to rob Ariella’s bar in the first place. It was pretty well known that if you valued your balls, you didn’t fuck with that part of town. 

“Marco.”

I shifted at the sound of my name, gloved hands clasped at the small of my back.

“Yes, Ariella?”

“If you would do the honors, please.”

“Of course.”

The man (his name was woefully unimportant) whimpered as I crossed the factory floor to stand above him. I saw my impeccable black suit, white dress shirt, and red tie reflected in his eyes, visible only because of the pool of light surrounding him that I had partially stepped into. I smiled coldly, though he couldn’t see it.

“Do you like swimming?”

The Royal Tease Bar really wasn’t too much to look at from the outside. It was in one of the more run-down areas of town, with graffiti on the alleyways and people skulking in the shadows while having their nicotine break. The bar itself had no such adornments, the solid oak double doors leading into the place were imposing as hell, and once you got inside, it was pretty swanky. It had dark wood furnishings, with vivid red cushions on the chairs and booths, and the simple lighting and old fashioned barstools gave it a classy, old fashioned feel. It was packed, as usual, though the clientele looked a bit more on edge than usual. Unsurprising, considering the place had been robbed a week prior.

I made a mental note to buy Ariella a new cash register at the earliest opportunity. The one sitting in the corner was her pride and joy as a vintage piece, but it was also a little too easy to get into. Speaking of the woman herself, she was working the bar, looking absolutely sexy in a little leather vest and shorts that were almost non-existent. I straightened my tie.

“I’ll take a whiskey ginger please.”

She spun in place, leaning up against the bar and putting her assets on display, looking more alive than I had seen her all day. She graced me with a smile that made my breath catch in my throat. I disguised it with a slight cough. Her smile got wider.

“Marco! God, it’s been a week since I’ve seen you!” she gushed, her tone so full of sugar I’m surprised her teeth didn’t rot. “Where on earth have you been, handsome?”

Lies, all of it. We had only finished dumping the stiff a few hours before the bar opened, but appearances had to be kept up. I glued my eyes to a spot just behind her head as I took a seat at the bar. Don’t get me wrong, Ariella was a lovely example of a woman in her prime, but I had no desire to get on her bad side by jumping on that particular train, even if it was to maintain a cover. No, it was easier to stay away from that situation. Unfortunately.

“Here and there.”

“Well. You should come around more often. It’s always nice to have some eye candy around here.” She positively purred. A man farther down the bar let out a hurt sound at that statement.

I did choke on my words that time. She attempted to frown at me, but it was ruined by the corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

 “Would it kill you to make small talk with me?”

“Yes.”

Ariella’s shoulders shook as she turned away to fill my drink order. The man who had let out the hurt sound sidled over and clapped me on the back on his way to the restrooms.

“Don’t let a good thing go, son! She’s hot, and into you!”

I spluttered as he disappeared, staring at his back in mild shock. It was only because I was looking in his direction that I saw one of the shabbier dressed patrons sneak his hand into the till Ariella had left open behind her as she mixed a drink. Before I could open my mouth to say anything, Ariella’s eyes flickered over her shoulder, and with the ease born of repetition, she lifted one leg and kicked the till closed as hard as she could. It sprang back open with a happy ching! She frowned.

Bam, Ching! Bam, Ching! Bam! Ching! BAM! CHING!

With each chime of the bell, the man’s face twisted a little bit more in pain, his head dropped closer to the surface of the bar, and the hand not caught in the till was stuffed into his mouth to keep himself from screaming. He finally yanked his hand out of the line of fire and shoved it deep into the pockets of his coat. With a final BAM! CHING! the till stayed shut, and the man stumbled away from the bar.

Ariella smirked, then turned around to face him.

“Hey! You!” She called out. He eyed her warily over his shoulder before pointing to himself hesitantly with his good hand. Ariella raised one eyebrow at him.

“You gonna pay for your drink?”

The man dug in his pocket and came up with a ten that he shakily placed on the countertop. His eyes met mine as he scurried out the front door.

“The nerve of some people.” She muttered. My lips must have twitched because she swung to look at me.

“What are you laughing at?” she scowled. I couldn’t answer her properly, I was laughing too hard.

After the bar had shut down for the night and she had kicked all the patrons out, we were driving back to the reisdential district. Ariella sat in the passenger seat of my Mercedes-Benz, gnawing on her fingernail as she looked out the window. Bach was playing on the sound system, just loud enough to cover the hum of traffic.

“Hey, Marco.”

I made a soft sound of acknowledgement in the back of my throat as I pulled up to a stop light, and reached over to turn down the music. As it was, I barely managed to hear her next question.

“Do you trust me?”

My hand stilled on the volume knob.

“Of course,” I turned to look her in the eyes. “Why?”

She frowned, and fidgeted into a more comfortable position.

“Someone has been trying to cut in on our operations in the Industrial District.”

My mind kicked into high gear as the light turned green, and I ran through the list of groups in the area that would have the guts to mess with us. It wasn’t a long list.

“You think it’s a new group.”

She nodded, her eyes cold flints of jade. “I’ve been trying to draw them out into the open but they’re being discrete. I have a feeling they’re going to make a move soon.”

I pulled onto the highway and sped up. “Then the question is, do you trust me?”

I couldn’t keep the sharpness out of my voice, but she smiled, her petal-pink lips curling upwards. “Of course.”

The rest of the drive was made in silence, Bach serenading us quietly in the background.

The next day, Ariella didn’t answer her phone. I eyed my own cell where it lay on my nightstand with suspicion as I straightened my tie. She usually called by this time in the morning, but then again, she had quite a bit to drink the night prior. It wasn’t often that I had to peel her off of my leather couch, but it wasn’t the first time I had done so. Not really thinking anything of it, I walked into the living room and turned on the television. Maybe she would call by the time I finished with breakfast. I was pouring myself some juice in the kitchen when the newscaster came on.

“Local business owner Ariella Valentine was arrested this morning after police investigated a shooting in the downtown area.”

The glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the ground. I didn’t care.

“The police received calls early this morning that shots had been fired in the factory district. Investigators found Valentine on the scene and took her into custody. The man who was shot appears to be a John Doe, a homeless man who was often seen wandering the area.”

The picture of the man who had been shot was the same one who had tried to rob her till. That wasn’t her style at all.

Unless.

This might have been the move she was talking about. A set up? I vaulted over the back of the couch and pulled my laptop in front of me, keeping one eye on the television. The news anchor kept talking.

“Detective Brayden Hall refused to make a comment at this time, though the police assure us that any and all new developments will be released to the press.”

Detective Brayden Hall. The man who had clapped me on the shoulder. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was at The Royal Tease last night. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I brought up the security footage from last night. To my surprise however, the detective hadn’t poked around in the back, instead going straight to the bathroom and back with no deviations. I frowned. This would require legwork.

My phone rang in the bedroom, and I sprinted to pick it up in time.

“Hello?”

“Hey handsome. Sorry, I’m just now getting my one call.” Lovely, so we’re going with the ‘boyfriend’ routine.

“Yea, I heard about it on the television. Need me to call a lawyer?”

“Please. I’m sorry babe. I didn’t do it.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart. We’ll get it all straightened out. You just hang tight, alright?”

My hands were shaking as I hung up, and I stood in mute silence for a moment before angrily hurling my phone at my pillows. It made me feel a bit better, at least until I remembered that I needed it to call our lawyer and had to crawl across the bed after it. Stupid phone.

Our lawyer was doing his job of stalling excellently. I, on the other hand, was playing up my part of ‘concerned boyfriend’ fabulously. It would have gone a bit better if the detective was not easily as smart as myself.

“So you two hooked up then?” He asked, amused. I scratched the back of my head, embarrassed. I didn’t have to fake it.

“Yea. She’s been flirting with me for a long time now, but I’ve been too nervous to really respond to it. Her car broke down last night though, so I ended up giving her a ride home and well, one thing led to another.”

“I see. What time did you leave her house?” He clicked his pen a few times before putting it down on the notepad in front of him.

“Around five in the morning, I think. I just don’t…I don’t think she’d really do something like this. Why would she do something like this?” I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated. I didn’t have to fake that either. He gave me a sympathetic glance.

“If it’s any consolation, son, I don’t think she did either. I don’t have any hard evidence that she didn’t yet though, and the circumstantial evidence is piled up against her.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help at all…” He leaned back in his chair, watching me. I groaned. “I know, it’s stupid. I can’t actually do anything, can I?”

He gave a little smile. “I’m afraid not. But if you happen to hear anything else or remember anything…”

That was my cue. My head snapped up, and he stopped speaking. “Wait a minute. Can I see that photo of the dead dude again?”

He raised an eyebrow, but handed me the photo anyway. I allowed my features to settle into a scowl.

“He tried to rob her till yesterday night,” both his eyebrows shot up at that, “but he picked a bad time to do it. Her till sticks, it doesn’t close all the way the first time, and she, well, she kicks it closed. She also doesn’t really look at it when she does it. His hand was pretty mangled.”

He took the photo back from me, frowning.

“But in these photos, his hand is bandaged. The bandages are clean. Why are they clean? He’s a homeless man. Wouldn’t have had enough for bandages if he had spent his money at a bar drinking.” He began muttering to himself. I sat awkwardly for a few more moments before he remembered that I was sitting there. “Go ahead and see yourself out, son. Call if you remember anything else.”

I didn’t end up calling the detective back, but the new recruits kept eyes on him for me. Where he went, what he did, who he talked to. They also found me some very interesting information that resulted in me having an interview with a man dressed in what had once been a sharply dressed suit in the factory. He didn’t seem to be having a good time of it, tied to the chair with blood trickling down his face. He eyed me warily from my seat on a crate opposite him.

“So. You tried to frame Ariella Valentine as a murderer so you could control the smuggling operations in the city. Unfortunate that you chose the wrong target to frame.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Spittle flew from his mouth. I smiled faintly.

“Marco DeVriend.”

“Shit. I know you.”

“Correction, you know of me. And soon, you won’t know anything at all.”

“Be reasonable. I can pay you money. A ton of money.”

“I’m not interested in your money,” I stood, pulling out a syringe as I did so, and walked over to him “Only that you die.”

Once the man was found dead in his apartment, incriminating evidence on his computer that told a story of him being the head of a smuggling ring that wanted to take over land in the city to use as fronts for his operations, Ariella was free as a bird. Detective Brayden had a new case to chew on because of it, though I knew he would never get a shred of evidence against me, not with all the cover up work I had done. Ariella greeted me with a smile as she got into my car and shut the door.

“Good work, Marco.”

“You wanted me to smoke him out.”

“I did.”

Damn if she wasn’t the craftiest woman I knew. However. “I am going to chew you out for making me worry. Later. In private.” I mentioned casually. She gave me a Look.

“Oh will you now?” she said suggestively. I rolled what I had said over in my head a second time.

Fuck it.

“Yes.”

     She laughed.