Page 229 of Power
“With everything going on, he probably just forgot,” Slash said. “So, if he pops the question, what’s your answer?”
Simone grinned.
“That rocks.” Slash stood, slung her computer bag over her shoulder. “Let’s get outta here.”
“I’m gonna stay a little longer. Thanks for the warm welcome. See you tomorrow.”
Slash left, and Simone turned her attention back to her computer.
An hour later, she packed up her laptop, headed out. Since she hadn’t heard from Luciano, she drove to her house.
It felt fantastic to be home. She turned on lights, walked around surveying each room. While she hadn’t been gone long, it felt like forever.
Entering the kitchen, she eyed the box of mini cakes Fred had brought over. So much had happened since their fun evening. Her entire life had changed in ways she could never have imagined.
Loss, pain, destruction, death… and love.
“I miss you, Frederica. My life isn’t the same without you.” She couldn’t eat the cake, couldn’t throw it away either, so she placed the box in the freezer. “I got the monster who killed you. And I fell in love. I fell in love with Luciano. Crazy huh? Who would have imagined?”
In the silence that followed, she heard her front door click shut.
“Luciano, is that you?”
No answer.
Still wearing her shoulder holster, she withdrew her Glock, flipped off the kitchen light, and stood with her back against the wall. The creaking of the wooden floor had blood whooshing through her. Was she being burglarized? Was this a targeted hit?
Someone wearing a ski mask appeared in the doorway, a large gleaming kitchen knife in their outstretched hand.
“Drop it or I’ll blow your head off!” Simone shouted.
“AAAAIIIEEE!” The assailant startled, then dropped their weapon.
It’s a woman.
Simone grabbed her shirt, shoved her against the wall, then yanked off her mask.
Trish Benderson, the SSA Manager and Cary Newburg’s girlfriend, glared at her. “Because of you, my Cary is dead,” she hissed. “You should have walked away from this. It’s bigger—way bigger—than any of us. You pissed off a lot of people, you stupid, stupid woman.”
Simone shoved her to the ground, pointed her Glock at her. “Don’t you fucking move. If you think I’m messing around, I pumped three bullets into Jerod De Clerq.”
“Who?”
“Dante. Dante is dead. And I’ll fucking kill you too.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Trish grumbled.
With her gun pointed at Trish, Simone called 911.
The police arrived, placed Trish in the back seat of a cruiser, then returned to talk to Simone. She showed them her badge, gave her statement, and told them Benderson was part of a corrupt crime ring.
An hour later, Simone was alone again, but she was gutted, furious, and fully anticipating a cyclone of continued fallout. In truth, Jerod’s death and Peter’s arrest were only beginning. The Bomb Maker might be dead, but his work was just revving up. The looming date—May thirty-first—was a deadline of overwhelming magnitude.
No way was she staying there by herself. Word had gotten out that she was the agent who’d eliminated Dante. Now, there wasa bounty on her head. She climbed into her SUV, glanced up at her home once more time, and drove away.
Luciano was right. She wasn’t running scared. She was ensuring she stayed alive. When she arrived at Luciano’s, the guard waved her in, and she parked at the fountain.
At least, here, I’m protected.
