11. Theo

"Look here," Marcel, my trusted friend, points out.

We"re looking at a map of the docks and the surrounding area. Marcel is the only one who knows what happened two days ago and why exactly I"d gone to meet Martinez.

However, what is most surprising about that encounter is that Martinez"s men had been shot dead by someone. Marcel had spent hours reproaching me that it hadn"t been safe to go alone and that he"d warned me. He"s right. I had been very na?ve about the entire situation. After the shooting had stopped, I"d taken an additional risk in getting the flash drive from Martinez"s dead body. I"m not proud of what I"d done, but I"d gone there with every intention of a fair exchange. He"d been the one to bring reinforcements.

But the bigger question remains: who shot his men. It had been from a distance, as I could see no one nearby. More importantly, it had targeted Martinez"s people only. Grimly, I have to acknowledge that whoever it was probably saved my life.

But why?

Marcel is pointing at probable locations for the shooter given the angle, and one of them happens to be a hotel a few blocks away from the docks.

"You really think this could be it?"

"Yeah, it"s this one or the Ukrainian restaurant next to it. It"s not too far, but not too close either. From what you described, though, whoever it was knew what they were doing, and they were fast about it."

"Yeah. It was all surreal. I"ve never been so scared in my life. For a moment, I really didn"t think I"d make it."

"I told you it wasn"t safe to go alone."

"I know, but I really needed the drive."

"And now you know they wanted to trick you," he admonishes, referring to the fact the drive was empty.

"I just don"t get why they would try to kill me. I was only asking for information, and that wasn"t even on their cartel."

"Maybe this is bigger than we previously suspected," he says after thinking for a while.

"I don"t know. I don"t even know where to go from here, except I really want to find the shooter."

"I"ll get the security tapes from the hotel and restaurant. It will require we pull in some favors, though. You know it"s Russian territory."

"And we"ll use that to our advantage. They probably already know about the shooting. It"s in their interest to find a rogue sniper, no? On their turf, no less."

"I"ll call Vlad. He should be able to get us access to the tapes."

"Great, let me know."

A few hours later, Marcel comes back with the excellent news that Vlad had gotten him access to both locations" feeds. We take a car and head to Brighton Beach to inspect the footage.

Upon arriving, two men meet us. The first one is massive, his bald head covered in tattoos. He isn"t precisely friendly looking. The other man is just as tall but leaner. He"s dressed in a sleek black suit and has a pair of sunglasses on. As he spots us, he beams.

"Ah, Hastings. Fancy meeting you again and in our area." Vlad flashes me a smile and winks at Marcel.

"Thank you for the footage," I reply, knowing it will be a favor for a favor.

"No worries, you know how this works. Now, let"s go in. We want to catch this shooter of yours too. Not good for the business, you know."

I nod and proceed inside with Marcel and Vlad"s massive friend, who seems to always stand behind Vlad in a protective stance. We go to the restaurant first and quickly sift through their limited footage but with no luck. The hotel is a bit trickier since they have more cameras, and as such, we have to be more vigilant. We play the footage for that entire day.

"There"s no one suspicious going in. Since it"s a sniper, they must have something to carry the equipment," Marcel comments.

"There"s no one going in but look here." I point towards the high schooler carrying a violin case. "Would that be big enough for a sniper rifle?"

Vlad laughs.

"Really, Hastings? Your shooter is a schoolgirl?"

"I don"t see anyone else as suspicious," I continue. "It could be a disguise."

"A woman, really? Your shooter is a woman?" Vlad keeps shaking his head in disbelief.

"Wait," Marcel suddenly interjects. "This sniper, whoever it was, must have known about the meeting beforehand, and they must have scouted the place to watch the meeting."

"You"re right," I agree. "Let"s check a few days back; maybe we can find something. Maybe the schoolgirl appears twice?" I add, somehow hoping to prove Vlad wrong.

We rewind five days of footage. It takes us a long time, and Vlad is getting impatient. It"s not until I see a familiar dress that I suddenly say, "Stop!"

"What?"

"That… play again." We play the tape again for that specific moment three days before the event at twelve p.m.

"Is that…?" Marcel looks at me with horror in his eyes, and I feel my stomach knotting.

"I think so." I nod, turning my head to study the figure entering the hotel once again. She"s wearing a Chanel tweed dress in blue paired with high heels. I"m still not convinced. It can"t be.

"I want the same person but leaving," I say, glued to the screen.

We fast forward until she"s exiting the hotel, her hair wet and her face uncovered.

"That"s…" Marcel whispers.

"My wife," I add, stunned on the spot.

Vlad chuckles and pats me on the back.

"Came to find a shooter, and you find your wife cheating. This has to be the best turn of events of the year."

"No, it can"t be… Can I have a copy of this?" The man in charge of the footage looks at Vlad, who nods his approval.

I don"t know precisely how we get out of there afterwards, but as we go back to the office, I can"t shake the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Because this doesn"t just increase my suspicions. It confirms my worst fears. My wife is having an affair.

* * *

It started out small, now that I think about it. At the time, it never even crossed my mind to question her actions because I was so sure of her affection. She would work later than usual, and she would make excuses that some projects weren"t coming along as she"d thought. Of course, at that time, I"d sympathized with her and done my best to support her through a period of perceived stress. But it wasn"t stress, was it? The thing that should have clued me in the most was her reluctance to talk about our future family.

It must have been last year on Valentine"s Day when I"d surprised her with a pair of baby shoes and told her my desire to expand our family.

She"d smiled and changed the subject. I approached her with the idea of a baby again when I"d asked her if she"d be willing to stop taking her birth control.

She"d once again tried to dodge the discussion by distracting me with her body. I"d been so aroused that I"d forgotten about the topic immediately.

It wasn"t until the third try that she"d relented and told me she"d stop taking her birth control. That had been around six months ago, and a nagging feeling told me she was still taking contraceptives.

This is my wife we"re talking about. The woman I"d bonded with over children during our relationship. The woman who"d told me she wanted a house full of children.

This woman, however, doesn"t seem to find the idea of having a child particularly appealing.

At the time, I merely put it down to her age. She"s in her mid-twenties, whereas I am slowly approaching my mid-thirties. It makes sense in a way that our priorities are different. Still, I cannot help but feel a little cheated since we"d established we"d try to have kids after a few years of marriage.

Then the absences from work happened. Those were the ones that played on my mind most often, and I found my insecurities eating at me. Bianca usually works until six or seven each day, or so she"s told me. One month ago, I wanted to surprise her with lunch at the foundation and was told she"d left early. That was odd. I"d called her and asked her where she was. Her answer?

"At work, silly!" She"d giggled and told me she missed me and that she would meet me at home.

I was left dumbfounded at the blatant lie, but I still didn"t give up hope. I knew there had to be an explanation for it, and I waited for her to open up. That didn"t happen. I"d dropped by her work unannounced a couple more times, and the same lie left her lips.

"I"m at work." When she wasn"t. What am I supposed to think? My wife is an attractive woman. With her long, black hair and her pale complexion, she looks like a painting come to life. Her doe-like eyes project her sweetness and innocence, and who wouldn"t be drawn to that? It had taken me a full conversation with her to be in her thrall. An entire month to fall in love.

Now, seeing the footage of her exiting that hotel with the wet hair? By itself, it might have been innocuous, but together with the other incidents? I"m almost sure my wife is cheating, and the thought nearly crushes me.

My innocent wife.

Or is she? I"d been her first lover. That, I knew, as she"d been sheltered her entire life. Is she welcoming someone else into her bed? Into her heart? Am I not… enough? Just the thought of another man touching my wife nearly sends me into a violent rage. I tend to contain my emotions to myself, but the mental picture of my wife in bed with another man makes me want to smash something.

Suddenly, I remember that night, sometime at the beginning of our relationship, when she"d gingerly suggested I tie her up and take her from behind. I"d been shocked at her request, given her inexperience. My immediate thought had been that she was under the impression she wasn"t pleasing me in bed. I"d asked her where she"d gotten the idea from, and she"d told me from porn. I didn"t want my wife to think she was anything less than what I wanted or needed. But I also didn"t want her to feel forced to embrace different sexual practices for my sake. I"d tried my best to assure her that our lovemaking was perfect the way it was. After all, one didn"t fuck one"s wife like a whore. I wanted Bianca to feel my love for her every time I touched her. I never wanted her to feel dirty… used.

But what if it wasn"t about pleasing me? What if that"s what she actually wants… craves? And for so long, I"ve denied her that. What if she wanted me to be rougher with her? And because I"d ignored her desires for so long, she"d sought it somewhere else?

I"m a mess. All my thoughts are jumbled up, and the moment I get home, I close myself in my study with a bottle of bourbon. Of course, my wife isn"t in yet. Paranoia takes hold of me. Is she with her lover? I grip the glass in my hand and quickly empty its contents. I pour another. After a few sips, I hear the front door open and footsteps in the hallway. I pour myself another drink, chug it, and confront my wife.

She"s in our bedroom now, wearing only her skirt and her bra, probably just having taken off her shirt.

"Theo." She looks at me and smiles. I cock my head and lean on the doorframe, studying her.

"Theo?" she asks again, her smile trembling a little. I don"t answer.

She approaches me and sniffs.

"Did you have anything to drink?" I still don"t answer her, looking at her skin for any signs of a lover"s possession.

I want to yell at her. Did you cheat on me? I want to ask her so many questions, but the alcohol is already taking over. Without a word, I pull her to me and kiss her roughly on the lips. Her mouth quickly opens up under mine, parrying each and every one of my attacks.

"Oh, Theo…" she moans into my mouth, and suddenly, I need to punish her. I jerk her around and push her with her face to the wall.

"Theo?" Her voice is unsure, and if I weren"t so drunk, I might have felt bad for treating her like this. But I need to purge any other man from her. My hand sneaks down her legs, and I slowly lift her skirt until it lays in a bundle over her ass. Bianca gasps and thrusts her body towards me, approving of the gesture. In one movement, I tear her stockings and her underwear, and my fingers are inside her. She"s enjoying this, based on her noises and the way she"s grinding against my fingers. I can"t wait anymore. If she wants rough, she"ll get rough. I quickly unbuckle my pants, taking my cock out and guiding it inside her in one swift movement. She gasps low in her throat. With one hand, I grasp her hip in a painful hold while with the other, I sneak up her spine and towards her neck. I catch the hair at her nape and tug forcefully while thrusting mercilessly into her at the same time.

"Fuck, Theo, yes!" Her voice only prompts me to go faster, harder, my hands roughing her up painfully. But she enjoys it. My hand goes between her legs, and the moment I touch her clit, she spasms around my cock.

"Shit, Theo, I"m coming." I pull again on her hair and twist her face around so I can kiss her. I keep thrusting and thrusting, feeling my own orgasm nearing. My mind goes blank when I release myself inside her with a groan.

For a moment, we"re both silent, breathing hard. I take my cock out of her, putting myself back in my pants. I take a step back and just look at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She glides down the wall to the floor, a satisfied smile on her face.

"That was," she says and then whistles. I just look at her, seeing a stranger.

"Put yourself together." I finally find my voice, sounding gruff even to my ears. "You look like a whore."

With a look of disgust, I leave the room and a confused Bianca on the floor.

The moment I"m out of the room, regret hits me like a bullet in the chest.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I keep repeating the same question again and again. How could I treat her like that? I can"t deal with Bianca now. I can"t even deal with myself. So, I do what any coward does. I run away. I leave the apartment, take a cab, and end up sleeping the bourbon off in my office.