Chapter 7

AMELIA

In another lifetime, I had been a classical ballet dancer.

It all began when I was five and my father took me to my first ballet class. Mom was out for the day with her friends, and he didn’t know what to do with me.

That was what he told me years later. It was a joke we’d shared between us, because it all begun by chance. He said he went to the community center and the classes they had open were ballet and dodgeball. Since I was already in pink, he went with ballet.

I took to it like I was made to dance, as if God had taken his time to design my body for each movement. My talent was recognized very quickly, and to me, the music, the movement, and I were one and the same being. The music would touch my soul, and my dancing was an expression of my soul.

That part never left me, even after all this time. I’d hear the music, it would reach my soul, and something would spark, but nothing happened after that. That part of me died when my mother was killed.

Died…I thought that was the best way to put it because the wound in my soul had never healed. Still, whenever I heard the music that touched my heart, something always sparked.

It did now as I lay in bed listening to the faint melody of the Thaïs Meditation. Gigi had it playing downstairs.

Back in college, we used to play classical music to chill us out. I never told her about my love for dancing, or rather my obsession. But, she guessed quickly that music meant a lot to me.

Gigi was an artist. For her, the music inspired creativity and calmed her when she was troubled. She worked at an art gallery now and still played the music for creative purposes, but I got the feeling this morning was more for calm.

Last night when I’d told her what had happened, she hadn’t taken it well. My best friend who was family to me had broken down when I told her I nearly died and Sinclaire was in the hospital in a coma. Guilt had washed over me as I watched her cry, and that same guilt took me now.

It got me thinking about life, and how my life had changed, how I’d become a cop and why I had turned my back on dancing…how I’d nearly lost a friend who meant a lot to me.

I was going to see Sinclaire before I got to work. I had to, and once I got to work, I would put my heart and soul into finding the bastards who’d shot him.

It was all I could do.

I glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was 7:30, still quite early, but late enough to start thinking about getting up to get ready.

I got out of bed, deciding it was best. I’d already spent too much time thinking, so I got ready and made my way downstairs to face Gigi.

“Hi.” Gigi sighed as I stepped into the kitchen.

“Hey, you okay?” I smiled a smile I didn’t quite feel but thought I should at least attempt for her.

“No, I can’t say that I am, but hey.” She lifted her slim shoulders into a shrug.

I observed the solemn look my best friend sported. Her green eyes were puffy and still had traces of red from the previous night’s cry. Her whole look in the shapeless gray dressing gown she wore was a contrast to the radiance that usually beamed from her at this hour.

The look was as lost as I still felt.

“How about you? How are you feeling?”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. Normally, when I was completely pissed off, I’d say, I’m alive, but today required more tact.

“I’m okay.” That was the best answer. “This looks amazing.” I motioned to the feast she’d prepared, all laid out on the breakfast table.

She offered a little smile. “It’s a glad you didn’t die meal.”

“Thank you.” I smiled again, but this time it was even more forced.

When I sat down, she brought over two mugs of her special coffee, and the aroma of hazelnut tickled my nose as she set mine in front of me. A grateful sip confirmed she’d added hazelnut syrup with a hint of cinnamon—perfection in a cup.

“This taste fantastic. Thanks a lot. I love it.” I was truly grateful.

“I’m glad.” She sat opposite me and we started our selection from the food she’d prepared: sausages, bacon, three types of eggs, cubed herby potatoes, and pancakes. It reminded me of the type of breakfast my mother would prepare on Christmas morning.

I watched and noted the grave look that suddenly filled her face when her plate couldn’t take any more food. The look told me exactly what she was going to say before she even spoke.

“Things are getting really hard, Amelia. Last time I got scared.”

She was referring to the shootout at the mall a few months ago. That had been absolutely scary, even for me, probably worse than the time I got shot, because that had happened at a warehouse where the space wasn’t as open as the mall and I didn’t have to worry about innocent people getting killed.

“I know.” I pulled in a steady breath and brought my hands together.

“I hate being unsupportive and negative, especially when I know you love your job, but it’s hard to stand by and watch all this danger. It was close, Amelia. You could have died.”

I didn’t think I could feel worse than I did, but I was wrong. When she wiped away a tear, I crumbled.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I know the danger comes with the job. It’s just hard to wait for the day when I hear something’s happened to you. I’d be devastated, and can you imagine how your father would feel?”

My father…

Another day, a different day, but there was another reminder of my father.

Gigi and I had lived together for years. I’d managed to excuse his lack of presence in my life by telling her we didn’t get along, and that was at least halfway true. I’d lied a lot, which was awful, and I made it look like I went to visit him when I got the chance. That lie had come after she was on my ass about how bad it was to hold grudges against our parents.

I’d met her mom a few times, and those were the times when the importance of family hit me the hardest.

I contemplated her question, knowing it would most likely devastate my father to hear something bad had happened to me.

“I’m a cop, Gigi. Risk is part of the job. I know how you feel because I would feel like that too, but I accept that something could happen to me at any given point. It’s just part of the work.”

Another lie. As tough as I appeared to be, I hadn’t accepted anything, and truthfully, the previous day had thrown me off my game. She was right—it had been close. I wouldn’t have been sitting here if not for Luc, and that didn’t sit well with me.

“Say whatever you want, but I know you can’t be okay with the possibility of death. Look at Sinclaire.” Gigi shook her head. “Do you think he’s okay with it?” Her gaze was sharp.

“No, I don’t.”

“I can’t even tell you to be careful, because I know you already try to be.”

I reached across the table and took her hands into mine. “But I can promise to be extra careful.”

At that, she smiled. “You better, Amelia Taylor. You are my best friend. No one will get me like you do—no one. No one else will understand if I say something like the stars show that good fortune awaits, along with hope and possibility.”

I laughed. “No, they won’t. Have you been casting your runes?” Better to stick to something she loved.

“Well after you hit me with the news last night, I consulted my cards.”

Her cards were tarot cards that had been passed down to her from her great-great-grandmother, who had been the head of the Kozlov family, one of the most influential gypsy clans—or so Gigi claimed. The power of spiritual divination and fortunetelling was great with them.

I didn’t believe in any of that, but I respected her beliefs.

“And did they tell you that good fortune, hope, and possibility await me?” I widened my smile.

“No, it was inconclusive, which is why I’m worried. The cards are never inconclusive, but it probably means your future is changing, shaping up to be something else.”

Right.

“At least I have a future though, right?” I gave her a one shoulder shrug and flashed her a dazzling smile.

Her answer was interrupted by the doorbell.