56 Red shoes

**Date = 25 June**
**Place = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)**

**POV - Aria**

Calm as a queen waiting for her pawn, with arms crossed, gun in one hand, casually leaning against the bonnet of a black van, is the bitch.

She wears a black trench coat like she’s in a mafia-themed perfume commercial. Tall, blonde, deadly … in cherry-red Prada heels. She looks like she stepped off a runway and onto a hit list.

Cindy. The one who kicked me with her pointy shoes.

I’m just a few feet away, hiding behind a navy blue BMW. I carefully drop my boots and kneel next to the back tire.

“Took you long enough,” she snaps when Lee gets close. So this was a planned meeting.

Why would he come here all by himself? I definitely wouldn’t.

I’m beginning to suspect that once your loony meter redlines, logic packs its bags and leaves. Jackson … Lee … they pull stunts I wouldn’t even dream up.

“And you came all by yourself,” the blonde gushes in a satirical, sharp voice. See … even she thinks it strange, and she’s more loony than them.

“You said I should,” Lee grunts. Quietly. Nervously.

“No, we said you should come alone … with the boy.”

“So, where’s the boy?” What boy? Could Lee be working with them? I know Enrique has his suspicions about this little guy because he thinks Jackson is blinded when it comes to Lee.

“I asked. He can’t make it. School … exams … stuff.”

“You should have insisted.” She calmly taps the side of the gun against her upper arm.

“Now you’re going to face the pits instead.” Still tapping the gun.

“Can’t wait.” Why is he here?

“You still don’t get it … how powerful we can be, do you? … Take the little cancer girl for instance …” My heart stops. Is she talking about Leyla?

“You’re just lucky she has such a bad appetite. If she finished all her food, the poor thing might have been in heaven by now.” Cindy’s voice is bright, cruel, and too calm.

“She threw up … the stomach ache …” We get it at the same time.

“You poisoned … fock!” He sneers, letting his tight control slip a little. “She’s just a little girl.”

“Now, now … she’s dying anyway. Think of it as mercy killing. But see how easy it is for us to get what we want? We have people everywhere … doctors, nurses … even police … judges … politicians …”

“It’s sick.”

“It’s necessary … you don’t take this seriously. But after today, you definitely will.” Her red lips are pulled into a wicked little smile. One of those you want to scratch off.

I snarl. Yes, actually snarl. It sounds like a dying Chihuahua, but still.

Anger fevers up my body. Have they no humanity? Killing fetuses, going after sick children, drugging, raping, shooting … I doubt there’s anything they would not do.

“You guys care too much. It makes you weak. You could have taken the deal … got out rich and alive. Now you’re going to suffer … for what? LOVE?” She sticks her finger in her mouth and makes a gagging sound.

“You think he would do the same for you?” She stills for a moment.

“Personally, between you and me, he’s not my type at all.” Who? Jackson? Is Lee actually, really gay?

Lee is watching her now, something unreadable behind his smirk

“Oh, honey,” Lee grins. “He’s not your type because your type is restraining-order-with-a-side-of-delusion.” That actually sounds like Jackson … no offense.

The woman sweeps loose strands of her bob hair behind her ears. She’s young — our age.

“I loved his twin once,” she says flatly. “I really did.” Which twin? Enrique?

“But … you know what the problem is with pretty men like Enrique? And Jackson?” Cindy asks sweetly, dragging a red fingernail across the bonnet of the car. “They think they’re wolves. Alphas. But they’re not.”

A suffocating silence stretches before she speaks again. And all I can think about is that she … this crazy person … was in love with Enrique … the same man I love. Does that say something about me?

“Wolves … are noble. And Jackson is just a rabid dog wearing a leather jacket.” She glares at Lee with dark brown eyes. “And his twin thinks women are toys … playthings he can use … abuse … discard …” Enrique may be many things … but he would never abuse a woman. I’ll never believe that. Use? Maybe. Discard? Probably. But not abuse.

Lee clicks his tongue. “Oh no. You’ve got the crazy eyes and a metaphor. We’re in trouble now.”

Cindy smiles too widely. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Lee shoots back. “You’re just bitter because the twins wouldn’t fuck you with someone else’s dick.”

Wow. Just wow.

Cindy’s lips curl. “Because of them I can’t fuck …” she yells, but stops bluntly, takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to fuck them. I want them to suffer … then die.” I gasp.

“Harsh!” Lee snaps. He throws the duffel bag at her feet. “There’s the money. I’m done.” Lee turns to leave.

“Stop!” Her voice is sharp. Dangerous.

I lean against the side of the car, the coldness of its frame a blessing against my heated skin.

The woman pushes herself from the van and walks in circles around Lee, leaning the barrel of the gun against her cheek.

Red Pradas. Red lips. Red flags.

She walks like she is on a runway. Speaks like every word tastes sweet on her tongue. But her eyes? Those are knives dipped in acid.

“Do you know the story, Sophie’s Choice?” she asks smugly. Lee stays silent. My heart stops.

“Yes … no?” She pouts her bottom lip. Lee is rigid. “The woman had to choose — her son, her daughter, or both.”

“I know the story,” Lee snaps. His nostrils flare.

“Good,” the woman continues calmly. “You see, the boys are going to face impossible choices … j-u-s-t … l-i-k-e … t-h-a-t.” She pulls out the words.

“Why?” Lee’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Did they refuse to follow you back on Instagram? Reject your MLM skincare pitch? Ignored your flirtations?”

The silence cracks like ice. Cindy’s heels click against the floor as she approaches with the slow precision of a cat deciding whether to play or kill.

She bends, lowering herself until she’s nose-to-nose with Lee. Her perfume — something floral, expensive, suffocating — clouds the air.

“They tortured. They broke. They raped. They killed.” She straightens herself up. “Destroyed every fucking thing.” My hand slaps over my mouth before the sound can escape. “They ruined my life!”

“So this is about revenge,” Lee prods some more. “Not money.”

“Revenge, hate, justice, payback, boredom, fun. With him, who knows really?” With a wide smile, she tilts her head, gun rising until the barrel kisses the tip of Lee’s nose. My lungs seize. She’s gonna do it. She’s really gonna redecorate this parking garage with his brains.

“Me … revenge, mostly … but also a little for love.” Love? I snort in my mind.

“See, I’m just like you,” she continues, all sugar-coated malice. “We do crazy things for the ones we love.”

Lee doesn’t even twitch. His pulse must be made of stone. The crazy bastard just stares her down with those lion-eyes, golden and unflinching.

Then his mouth curves, and he hisses, low and cutting — “Oh no, sweetie. I’m THE SHIT. You’re a PIECE OF SHIT. Big difference.”

Cindy’s finger toys with the trigger, casual, playful, like she’s deciding whether to pull or not. Seconds stretch, thick and breathless, my heart hammering in my ears so loud it’s deafening.

Then she drops her arm with a snicker, the sound jagged, unhinged. I drag in a gasp of air, lungs burning.

She’s not normal. Not even close. And not Jackson abnormal … this is a totally different kind. Definitely one sick daughter-of-a-bitch.

Lee moves with lightning speed, and before I can even blink, he has the woman in a chokehold, her back against his chest, her gun against her head.

How did he do that? The little guy sure has skills. Awestruck, I get up and stare. About to give him applause.

“Jeezz!” I judder when a hard body unexpectedly rubs against my back. An arm circles my waist, a warm breath blows on my neck. The pungent smell of garlic and rotten cheese rises into my nose and makes me gag.

“Not bad, sweetness,” a snide voice says against my ear. But he’s not talking to me.

“Aria?” Lee’s face twists in horror, not happy to see me.

“Now drop the gun or I’ll shoot the redhead.” A hard tip presses into my side. A frightful chill trails through my veins, from my non-breathing lungs to my non-beating heart.

“You drop it or I’ll shoot your slut,” Lee counteracts. The voice just chuckles.

“Go ahead. Nobody gives a damn about that bitch … but you care about this one.”

“CRAP!” Lee hisses with an accusatory snare as he drops his arms to his side, setting the woman free.

He’s clearly pissed with me. And he has every right to be. What was I thinking?

I realize I’ve made a big mistake. A VERY BIG one.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Cindy growls, grabbing her gun back from his hand, aiming it between his cold eyes. Lee is going to die because of me. We’re both going to die because of me.

Shit.

“Uh uh uh,” the man behind me says, “the boss said not to damage the merchandise, remember.” I hope I’m part of that merchandise.

The shrew yells and kicks the tire with her Prada. A man, walking to his car, stops and stares.

“HELP!” I scream, my voice cracking against the cold concrete walls. The man freezes mid-step, mouth opening in shock.

BANG. BANG.

Two muffled shots tear through the air into his body before he can even blink. Time slows. He drops to the ground. My own scream dies in my throat.

“He’s just garbage. I can damage garbage,” the woman explains calmly without batting as much as an eyelid ― no regretful compassion whatsoever for the person she just killed.

Her tone makes my stomach knot. Heartless. Psychopathic. Untouchable.

The metallic scrape of boots against the floor cuts through the silence.

“Yeah, but now you’ve made a mess,” the man pipes as he pushes me forward. I stagger towards Lee and grab his hand.

“You’re walking on a thin line.” It’s the same scar-face who shot Brian. T-Bone.

“I don’t care,” she sneers. “He’s not MY boss.”

“Not your lover either,” T-Bone quips. She rolls her eyes and twists her mouth, mocking.

“I’ll call Freddy to come clean it up.” She takes out her phone.

“No,” T-Bone says. “The gunshots might have attracted attention.” He eyeballs Lee, who pouts and shrugs. “We don’t have the boy … there was a bomb threat at the school. So we need to go.”

Go? Go where? My heart stops again. I swear that specific organ of mine has lost half its functionality since I moved here.

“I must admit,” he adds, voice smooth, almost reverent, “— genius move. Rarely see that level of instinct.” I swallow hard, the slick tension coiling like a snake ready to strike.

My heart slowly starts to beat again like a tractor in a field.

“So what?” Lee snobs. “You said me or him … and here I am.” My stomach drops. Confusion and fear twist inside me like a live thing.

T-Bone chuckles low in his throat, not happy. But he looks rather rapt.

“We also said come alone.” He looks at me. “Still, you brought a friend.” I swallow spit down my dry throat. Fuck … what did I do?

“She wasn’t invited,” Lee snaps, giving me a cold glare that would make a lion stop in its tracks. T-Bone sniggers.

“Too bad.” He now looks at me as if he’s going to eat me for lunch.

“I could always leave … as if I was never here …”

“You’re funny, carrot head.” At least he has a sense of humor. “That twin was a fool to leave you for the dumb blonde.”

“That twin is a fool … period,” Cindy snarls. Unlike my dying Chihuahua version, she sounds like a Pitbull.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Lee suddenly seems agitated.

“Well, that’s not happening.” He’s sarcastic. And maybe slightly pissed.

“Phones,” T-Bone scuffs, leaning in, eyes scanning me like a predator. I hand over mine, Lee tosses Rock’s. Clever.

T-Bone flings them against the wall — the crack of plastic on concrete makes my stomach jump.

Lee spouts, “You gonna pay for that? It’s still on contract.” Making lame jokes at a time like this. He’s bored, sarcastic, and unnervingly calm.

Well, I’m scared shitless. I clutch his hand, fingers digging in, a lifeline. He fiddles in his pocket like he’s scratching an itch, oblivious to the gravity. I want to tell him to stop, now is not the time for itchy organs — but fear tightens my throat.

“You won’t need one in hell,” T-Bone scuffs. “Unless you’ve changed your mind to take the deal?”

“No,” Lee snaps, crisp and flat. His answer is plain, abrupt, loathsome, and even a little disrespectful. Is his mind so messed up that he can’t predict that we’re in danger right now? I swear, if I ever have a son, he’ll never play hockey — hockey players are insane.

“Too bad,” T-Bone says, dark amusement glinting in his gaze. He points to the black van.

“Get in the damn van!” T-Bone orders. My legs obey before my mind does, the chill of fear sliding down my spine like ice.

Lee gives a vexed snarl but obeys, too. Is he still angry that I followed him? Well, I’m the one who should be mad. If he had told me the truth, I would have made better decisions. Informed ones. I think.

I lean over to him.

“It’s your fault, you know. Let’s find the girl with the red fucking shoes! Great idea.” I’m still babbling in fear. “Next, I suppose you’re gonna take us down a yellow brick road.”

Lee looks at me with stormy eyes as our kidnappers get into the van.

“Aria,” he whispers.

“Yes?”

“Shut the fock up.” I strip my nuts and close my mouth.

I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to slap him with my limited-edition blush palette.

But instead, I lean back in the seat and cross my arms.