"24 red, ladies and gentlemen." 

Sammy Carlito slammed his palm down on the table triumphantly, causing chips to jump and rattle. As the dealer slid another stack of chips toward the swarthy Spainard, Carlito took a puff of a Cuban and grabbed a handful of Stella's ass. That had become his "good luck" gesture for the last four games. Of course, Stella smiled and kissed him on the cheek, giggling; but she was imagining more than one bullet piercing his skull. He was a real pig, and Stella hoped that her girls didn't have to put up with trash like this. 

After the final bet, Carlito had won. Stella whispered into his ear.

"Why don't we cash you out and take this party upstairs, Papi?" 

The man gave an oily smile and nodded. 

"Hermanos, go upstairs and check the room while I collect. Make sure they put that champagne on ice

Gavin was yawning when he heard someone open the door to the room next to him. He had his ear to the wall, listening, but he only heard someone rummaging around. Couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but it definitely wasn't Stella. Placing his gun back on the top of the toilet box, Gavin continued to wait.

Carlito was nearly sloppy drunk as they made their way into the room. The man was laughing loudly and mumbling most everything he said in Spanish. His two guards shut the door. One of them turned to the other.

"You go ahead and take a break. I got first watch."

With a nod, the other guard loosened his tie and fished a key from his pocket. He slid it into the door lock to the next room, opened it, and shut it behind him. 

"Now, senorita, you said that you had something to show me. I think I would like to see that...and more."

He shed his jacket and whipped it onto the floor and stalked toward Stella. She laughed, nervously, and put a hand against his chest. 

"Well hold on, Papi, it's a surprise. I bought this just for tonight. Let me go slip into it. Why don't you pour us some champagne?" 

Carlito waved his hand toward the bathroom, then began undressing while Stella closed the door. 

Once inside, Stella turned on the tap to create noise. Carefully  she removed the top of the toilet tank. Just like Gavin said, the gun was just inside. Lifting it out, she checked the chamber, and took a deep breath. 

​​​​​​

Gavin had his gun in his hand as soon as someone opened the door to the next room. He was just walking out of the room to take out the guards in the hallway when one of them opened the door, staring at Gavin. Gavin tried his most innocent smile- but the man was staring at Gavin's uniform.

"Oh, is this your room? They gave me the key and I-"

But when the bodyguard started reaching for his gun, Gavin moved faster; he kicked the man back into the hall and put three bullets into him. He sprinted into the hall, sliding low to avoid the gunshots from the other bodyguard. Gavin quickly fired four shots as he hit the ground- at least two of them struck home. He reloaded, then tried the door. Locked. Cursing, he started searching the two bodies for a key- but that looked too damn suspicious for a cop to be doing, so he gave up and knocked on the door.

"POLICE! OPEN UP! SURRENDER YOURSELVES!"

He just hoped that Stella had moved quick enough when she heard the gunshots outside. If she didn't, and Carlito answered the door, well... Gavin would be the last face he ever saw. Still, he trusted Stella. She'd be fine. He hoped.

Just as Stella opened the bathroom door with her gun drawn, there were gunshots in the hallway. She heard Gavin's voice yell. It caught her off guard. A panicked Carlito lunged toward the door. Stella stepped in front of him  blocking the door. She lifted the gun and fired--so fast she couldn't remember if she aimed at all. 

Sammy Carlito stumbled back, his eyes wide and a growing puddle of blood soaking his side. 'Shit, that's not a kill shot.'  Taking another step toward him, she fired again, this time hitting him in the chest, just left of center. 

There was a huge slamming sound behind her. She jumped and nearly dropped the gun as she whirled around. Her eyes met Gavin's, and then Lyvers followed shortly behind. Stella was relieved, but she knew the show wasn't over. She grabbed for the stacks of bills scattered about the floor.

In the hallway, doors started popping open as nosey guests came to see what all the fuss was. Stella scrambled back from Gavin.

"It was his fault! He...he robbed me! The bastard!" 

​​​​​​

​​​​​

Relief flashed over Gavin's face, then he moved. He grabbed Stella's gun and handed it to Lyvers before wrenching her hands around behind her and cuffing. Hauling her out so briskly that she nearly lost her footing, he started yelling to Lyvers about getting her down to the station and locked up. Both Gavin and Lyvers tried to reassure the crowds that the situation was handled and to not disturb the crime scene.

When they were in the elevator, Gavin loosened his hold and winked at her- but the doors opened quickly as the two men marched her outside to where the squad car was waiting. Gavin shoved her in the back seat and followed her in while Lyvers hit the gas. 

They traveled a few blocks before Gavin exhaled and undid the cuffs, although he pocketed them with a wink. 

"We'll save these for later. Mission accomplished? How are you feeling?"

If the arrest didn't look convincing, it sure felt that way. Lyvers drove swiftly  away. In fact, Stella hadn't had time to think about what had just happened. She ran her fingers through her hair, biting her lower lip, she started thinking out loud and talking a mile a minute.

"I'm...I'm ok. No, I'm fine. Not hurt, nothing like that. It worked. Didn't it? I mean, I shot the guy. Twice. Twice, right? He was bleeding. I'm sure of it. But  yeah. I feel fine.  Wait, are you?" 

Gavin gave her a smile, but it was smaller than his usual one.

"I'm fine."

He took her hand and spoke slowly, trying to relax her.

"Look, in a few minutes you're going to go talk to Uncle Joe. Call him, see him, whatever. But... uh..."

How to find the words.

"You're not like me, Stella. I'm... fucked up. I tried to kill my father when I was five years old when he was beating the shit out of my father. Tried another couple dozen times until I finally got him. Tonight, I'm going to sleep like a baby. But you... when most people do something like this the first time, even if they're just wiping out a piece of shit... it's hard. You feel sick. You feel guilt. Depression. I just want you to know that's normal. And that you didn't do anything wrong. Remind yourself why you did. Think about all Uncle Joe has done for you. And it'll pass. I'm gonna hang around a couple days until I know you're feelin' alright, huh?"

Lyvers pulled the car slowly up to the Escort Agency. Stella nodded, taking some comfort in his words, and more than ready to call Uncle Joe and be done with it. 

They stepped out of the car and made their way up the front steps. Stella hadn't let go of Gavin's hand. There were only a few lights on in the house. Some of the girls were out, the rest were in bed. Donny opened the door and let them in. Stella stepped out of her shoes and picked them up, and walked over to the bar. 

"I deserve one of these. Or three. So you do. What'll ya have, handsome?" 

Gavin slid onto the barstool, studying Stella's face. For now, he was observing.

"Whiskey. Neat."

When Stella had made her drink, he clinked his glass against hers.

"Here's to you. You did good tonight. And if you didn't pull the trigger, he would have. So fuck him, and good riddance."

Stella nodded quietly in agreement, and held the glass to her lips. In the quiet moment, her minds eye flashed back to the hotel room. The smell of the gunpowder hanging in the air as she shot Sammy Carlito. That look in his eyes after the first hit, and the way the look drained from his eyes when the bullet pierced his chest. And the blood. There was so much more blood in a human body than she knew. 

The smell of the drambuie was suddenly too much. She pulled the glass away and sat it down on the bar, pushing it away a bit. Her eyes fell to her shoes sitting on the floor. There were splatters of blood on the toe and sides. Surely enough, there were splatters on her stockings. 

"I need a shower. I need to call Uncle Joe, but I need a shower."

Gavin nodded slowly. For once, he wouldn't follow her in.

"I'll be here when you're done, if you want to talk. Or if you want a distraction. You let me know what you need."

Stella let the shower run long and hot. In her mind, she told herself that the water was washing the whole ordeal down the drain. She had done the job successfully, and when she went back and thought about the cocky Spaniard and his dirty, wandering hands, Stella felt a good bit better. 

After the shower, Stella wrapped up in a soft robe and sat at her desk to call Uncle Joe.

"It's done. Everything went according to plan."

"You did a great job, Stella. I know this wasn't easy. Spilling your first blood never is, but you did it for this family, and that's the only thing that matters. Proud of you, sweetheart. Get some rest."

Stella hung up the phone and took a deep breath. She headed downstairs, padding barefooted back to the living room where Gavin was waiting. She settled down beside him on the plush couch, and laid her head on his shoulder and ran her finger over the top of his hand. 

​​​​​​"I don't think you're fucked up."

Gavin smirked.

"Respectfully disagree. I think I'm pretty awesome, don't get me wrong. But I'm far from normal."

Smiling a little, Stella closed her eyes for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of safety she felt when Gavin was near. It was the way she felt when he got into the squad car with her after the job. 

It was then that she remembered something Gavin had said to her. Sitting up a little, she turned to him. 

"Hey, back in the car, you said something about your dad - trying to kill him because he was beating your family? I don't mean to pry, but, what happened? That must have awful."

Gavin grimaced.

"It's kind of a long story; you probably don't want to hear it."

Stella's expression made it clear that she disagreed, so he sighed and got comfortable.

"I grew up in the woods. My father was a bastard. Hit my mother. Hit me. Hit Tara, but not nearly as much. When I was 5, I went after him with a knife. Most of the scars on my chest, my back, my arms, are from him. The smaller ones are for when I disappointed him and he was pissed. The big ones are from when I tried to kill him. I got him eventually, after he'd killed my mother. Tara put an ax in his back and I blew his fucking head off."

A subconscious scowl had appeared on his face as he talked, and he suddenly ceased.

As Stella listened to the story, he eyes widened in horror for what he and Tara had endured. On top of that, the pain on his face in recalling the story broke her heart. She reached over to the coffee table and picked up his glass, handing it to him. 

"After what you've been through, you get a lot of leeway for what you call far from normal. And, for what it's worth, I think you came out pretty damn perfect, all things considered."

She gave him a soft smile, watching those icy blue eyes.

Perfect people don't kill for money- or power. He almost said it out loud, but tonight was the worst possible night to have that conversation, considering what she'd just done. Instead, he accepted his glass and drank. They sat in silence for awhile- perhaps both lost in their respective thoughts- until Stella turned to look at him. Gavin judged the moment was right; soon, Stella was laying on the couch with Gavin above her. 

They took their time, building each other up until they finally collapsed into each other's arms. They lay there, dozing, for hours. Stella eventually woke and returned to the shower, but Gavin cracked an eye open and followed her inside. Forty five minutes later, Gavin was laying on the couch with his hands behind his damp head and a smile on his face. 

When there was a knock on the door, Gavin had only a second to wrap Stella's robe around his waist like a towel before one of the girls burst in holding a newspaper.

"Uh, Stella?"

Roxanne, looking uncharacteristically alarmed, held the newspaper toward Stella as she poked her head out of the bathroom. Clad only in a towel, Stella took it.

"What's the matter, Roxy? Is everything...."

There, on the front page, a photo of Stella in handcuffs says splashed across the very top of the page. The headline read, "Local Business Woman Arrested For Cold Blooded Murder!" 

Stella's head started spinning, and she sat heavily on the end of the bed.

"No...no, no, no. Fucking...how the fuck did this happen?" 

Roxanne looked to Gavin, then Stella. 

"Jesus Christ, it really is you.."

Gavin sat up and immediately tossed aside the towel and began getting dressed. He was all business now.

"Call Uncle Joe. Get him to set you up with a flight out of the country... you've got to get out of the states until the heat dies down... he'll wantto get you out ASAP."

He paused.

"It won't be forever. But months. If not a year."

"Where are you going? Do you have family anywhere? Connections?"