Chapter 10
The fucking nerve.
Agatha had said Rio’s name three times and was with met with silence. Rio had taken her com out. It had taken everything inside of her not to scream out in anger before she pulled on her coat, retrieved her gun from the safe and stormed out of her hotel room.
Agatha brought her gun on instinct. She hadn’t needed it yet, but it felt right to have, to aim at Rio perhaps for pushing her to her fucking limit.
She replayed yesterday's events on a loop as the ski lift dragged her up the mountain to her infuriating fake wife. The look on Rio’s face when she’d caught her staring at her in the bathroom mirror, the desperate yearning and shock of being caught, Rio’s hand firm against her hip, her scent distinct to Rio and Rio alone curling around her as their lips touched.
And then Rio had ran.
She had left Agatha alone with nothing to protect her from her own vitriolic thoughts.
Of course, she ran away. There’s nothing good about you.
She knows letting you in would be just the same as inviting the devil into her home.
You were born evil.
They weren’t really Agatha’s words; they were more of her mother’s in Agatha’s voice.
She’d tried to shove them away, to remind herself they weren’t true, but the longer that passed without Rio’s return the harder it became. Not to mention she was worried something had happened to her. Rio had left in nothing but her pyjama top and shorts; she hadn’t even put on shoes.
When the other woman had returned over six hours later, Agatha hadn’t slept a wink. Her fear and anxiety morphing into anger when she realised Rio was fucking drunk. And although Agatha knew she had no legs to stand on when it came to using substances as coping mechanisms, that didn’t make her any less furious.
She’d held Rio’s hair back and helped her stay calm as she spewed her guts out even though she thought Rio didn’t deserve her kindness. Some part of Agatha, a part of her she didn’t understand, couldn’t bring herself to leave Rio to deal with it on her own.
As Rio spent an absurd amount of time in the shower afterwards, Agatha fought off tears that kept pricking her eyes. She wouldn’t cry about this; Agatha hadn’t cried for far worse.
She’d been so lost in thought that she almost missed getting off the lift at the top of the mountain. In her daze, she hopped off, swaying a little as her ankle landed funny and twisted in the snow. Shaking her emotions away, Agatha began to walk the path up to Rio’s location.
Her eyes scanned the restaurant for the other woman twice before she concluded Rio wasn’t there. She pulled out her phone to recheck her location. Rio was still in the building.
So where was she?
Agatha picked up on the way a chair at the bar faced to the left instead of forward like the others as if the person sitting in it had gotten up in a hurry. She made her way towards it and then past it noting the bowl of half-eaten fries, a half-empty glass of water and the whisky next to it.
The corridor she found herself in broke away from the restaurant and towards the restrooms. Agatha entered the ladies to her right, called Rio’s name and kicked open all the cubical doors. They and the rest of the bathroom were empty. She repeated the process for the men’s room, waving off a man’s complaint about her being in there when she wasn’t supposed to be.
Agatha made her way further down the corridor to the glass door at the end. That’s when she spotted it, the dot of crimson just in front of the door. Her hand flew to her gun in its holster as she pulled it out and nudged the door open with her shoulder.
A gust of wind hit her instantly and Agatha grit her teeth together. The blood was unmissable now, sticking out like the north star in the night sky alongside two sets of footprints. She followed the trail behind the restaurant as it went down another slope. A black van came into view at the same time the spots of blood stopped, and the trail of footprints became one. The prints that remained were large, a European size forty-six if she had to guess; far too big to be Rio’s or Amelia’s.
The sound of blows behind the van caught Agatha’s attention. She started at a sprint, only stopping once she was concealed behind the vehicle. She caught sight of Rio in the distance. Thumping and muffled screams from inside the van split her attention momentarily before it returned to her fake wife fending off two men in all black twice her size.
Agatha wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to see Rio doing a brilliant job at holding her own. One of the men had picked her up by the waist and she was using it to her advantage, kicking out at the man who was trying to get hold of her legs. It appeared they were trying to drag her away from the van and Rio wasn’t letting them. Agatha realised then that she hadn’t been ignoring her, and her com had likely been ripped out in the commotion.
Agatha winced as she heard the snap of a neck. The man trying to grab Rio’s legs face came into view as he bent backwards, blood pouring from his shattered nose. Rio had kicked him in the face. His eyes fluttered shut as he fell backwards, landing contorted in the snow.
When Agatha’s eyes returned to Rio, she had freed her trapped right arm and was elbowing the other man in the eye. He dropped her from the impact. She was turning on him when he retrieved a knife from seemingly nowhere and sliced the hand curled into a fist aimed at his face. Rio dropped her hand before she tried again, powering through as if a blade hadn’t sliced through her ski gloves and into her skin. He hadn't been expecting the second punch but unfortunately, his reflexes were quick. He stepped back, caught Rio's fist and twisted her arm behind her back so that she was pressed up against his body. His knife against her throat.
Agatha watched as the man pulled down his ski mask revealing pale skin and blue eyes. He was whispering harsh words into Rio’s ear as she squirmed against him, never giving up in her attempts to free herself. The undeniable discomfort on Rio’s face was enough to kick Agatha into action. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but Rio looked like she wanted to throw up.
The necessary movements were muscle memory now as Agatha held up her gun. The shot was a dangerous one. The slightest movement on Rio’s part would send the bullet into her instead of the enemy, but Agatha had made this shot once before. And Agatha always hit her intended targets (well, apart from the one time).
She sucked in a breath, relaxed her body, focused on her target, and pulled.
The recoil rippled through her body as the bullet hit its mark just above Rio’s head. She watched as her target fell backwards into the snow like a bolder toppling over. The other woman’s eyes flared, scanning her surroundings until they landed on Agatha concealed behind the black van.
Agatha didn’t look long enough to see Rio’s reaction, instead turning to the van door to yank it open. There she found Amelia, her hands and feet bound by rope, her mouth gagged with a piece of cloth. She had a gash on the left side of her forehead and her blood was staining her dazzling white ski jacket.
Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at Agatha’s appearance. She grabbed the pocket knife in her pocket and started tugging at Amelia’s ropes.
She became aware of footsteps coming up behind her. Agatha didn’t turn around.
“You could’ve taken my fucking head off!” Rio shouted.
Agatha rolled her eyes as Amelia’s bondage broke free.
“Are you hurt?” Agatha asked in the voice she used when on the job.
Amelia shook her head, pulling the gag from her mouth. “It’s only my head.”
Agatha nodded. “Alright. Let’s get that checked out.”
She held her hand out and Amelia took it to help her step out of the van. She all but pushed Rio out of the way as they made their way back to the restaurant.
***
Agatha was glad to be home.
She’d taken Amelia to the medical centre, watched as she recounted the events to her husband who looked like he was going to burst into tears the more she spoke. He had hugged her afterwards and told her he’d never leave her alone again. They’d kissed and it was so charged and passionate it made Agatha feel nauseous. Even Amelia’s son had put his phone down to express his concern. She’d kissed his cheek, and he’d collapsed in her arms, sobbing.
Agatha didn’t have a clue who had tried to kidnap Amelia or why, but she’d reported it back to the agency and they’d thanked her for it. She hadn’t spoken a word to Rio since she’d shot a gun at her. They barely acknowledged each other on the journey back to New York and as soon as she’d stepped into their house she’d disappeared into her room.
For the first time in a long time, Agatha was lost. She didn’t know what to do about her fake wife. They had made so much progress on the first night of the Switzerland mission. Rio had spooned her, to warm her up, but still. It had opened a door. They had begun touching each other without thought. She remembered Rio’s hand reaching out to grab hers across the table at breakfast, the way she had cupped Rio’s face in her hands after she’d attacked her with snow. How they had been less afraid to share things about themselves.
Now it felt like they were back to square one and Agatha didn’t understand why. Was it because of how intimate the touches had become? She didn’t think so, it wasn’t like them being attracted to one another wasn’t common knowledge. She knew as much as Rio that they’d been enamoured with the other since day one. She couldn’t place why Rio had pulled away so abruptly.
She didn’t want to think about it anymore.
Agatha took a long shower, got into her pyjamas and her own bed (finally). And fell asleep moments later.
***
Agatha spent the day in the cinema room covered in blankets and surrounded by snacks. She needed an escape and always found it in films. It was one of her healthier coping mechanisms. So far, she’d watched The Shinning, Die Hard, The Craft and was now ten minutes into Grown Ups. She was laughing at the face Kurt made at the four-year-old who was still being breastfed when Rio appeared.
Agatha froze. She hadn’t expected to see her today or ever. The film continued to play as Agatha realised, she wouldn’t be acknowledging Rio’s presence, and she definitely would not be stopping one of her favourite films for her. Her fake wife settled in the chair two seats away and turned her attention to the large screen in front of them.
Not a single word passed between the two, only their laughs filled the room at the ridiculous film.
It wasn’t until some time later when Rio said:
“I also want to get chocolate wasted, pass me that,” she pointed at the bag of Reece’s Pieces by Agatha’s lap.
Agatha huffed before she paused the film. They weren’t doing this. They weren’t going to pretend everything was normal between the two of them (whatever normal was) and that Rio hadn’t run away, and that Agatha hadn’t been cruel with her remarks, and that they hadn’t spoken in over a day.
Rio sunk further into her chair. The silence in the room was loud. So loud that Agatha could hear her own heartbeat thumping irritatingly against her ear. She thought the quiet might suffocate her as it neared the ten-minute mark, so, in true Agatha fashion, she said the first spiteful thought that came to mind:
“I’m going to ask for a new partner.”
She watched as Rio’s body went ridged, spotted the brief panic in her eyes before Rio concealed it behind in difference.
“Okay,” was Rio’s only response. She sounded so far away again, like the way she had spoken about her dead Abuela.
Agatha hadn’t meant it, she just wanted to see how Rio would react. She hadn’t anticipated Rio not reacting at all. It was so easy for her, wasn’t it? She scoffed before resuming the film.
It was probably for the best anyway.
Rio stood and left the room.
***
Rio didn’t want Agatha to get a new partner. She wanted Agatha to be hers and hers only. She didn’t think she had the right to be so possessive, but she was doing it anyway. How long did it take to be reassigned in The Smith’s Programme? Was it like main operations where it could take a matter of days? Could she intervene and tell Hihi Agatha couldn’t leave her because of some bullshit she’d have to make up?
Rio had surprised herself at how easily her detachment came as she answered the other woman’s statement. She’d felt anything but detached like she always did when it came to Agatha. She’d noted how her fake wife didn’t seem to care, resuming her film as if she’d just mentioned she was going out to get some fucking eggs.
She knew that Agatha getting a new partner would probably be for the best for both of them. Their relationship so far had been so confusing, so unstable, so exciting. And yes okay, so maybe Agatha had a lover, but whatever they had was something real. Even if they were only meant to be friends, Rio didn’t want to lose the fragile thing that they had. It had brought something different into her life that she’d never experienced before. She didn’t think she had any new experiences to endure because of her line of work and yet here she was.
Rio had retreated into the living room after she’d left the cinema room. She pulled open her laptop, opened her emails and dragged the photo she’d sent herself into the picture icon in Google. It was a picture she’d snapped of Agatha after their snowball fight. She’d shoved the phone in her face catching her fake wife off-guard as she scowled into the lens.
Rio wanted to know more about the woman who might become her ex-fake wife before she disappeared from her life forever. Biting down on her nails, she waited as Google scoured the internet for images that matched. She stilled when the page loaded. Slowly, Rio pulled her fingers out of her mouth as her eyes made their way down her laptop screen. She read headline after headline looked at image after image:
O’Connor’s daughter caught coked again:
An image of a teenage Agatha snorting a line in a dingey bathroom with a boy she registered as Samuel from the art exhibition and another woman was attached below.
Multi-millionaire’s spectacle off-spring shocks no one in her latest stunt:
This image depicted Agatha mid mid-make-out session with another girl behind a dumpster. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
Would this image put your heavily religious mother in hospital? Because it sure did Manhattan’s most infamous delinquent’s:
There were two images this time. Agatha leaving a club with two champagne bottles in her hand. She drank from one whilst the other was pressed against her chest as if she were scared someone would try to take it from her. She was accompanied by four other teenagers. A girl with a shaved head and bright pink top, Samuel once again, a blonde-headed girl that Rio vaguely remembered seeing in a film once and a boy with blue hair. They were all laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world, and Rio thought that perhaps they didn’t.
The image next to it was a woman in a hospital bed. She wore a gold cross around her neck that you wouldn’t miss from a kilometre away. Her hair was grey and black and wrapped in a clasp behind her head. She was unconscious and yet she still looked so put together, so cold. She gave Rio chills.
The princess of the Upper East Side gives paparazzi the bird as she escapes in an older woman’s vehicle:
The inside scoop of O’Connor Industries' new building’s grand opening:
This was the first image that looked staged to Rio. Patrick O’Connor who she now recognised as the founder of O’Connor Industries; the company that specialised in transporting technology to places of employment around the country.
She had a case on the company a couple of years back when the FBI suspected some members of committing embezzlement fraud to fund wars overseas. High-profile lawyers had gotten involved, and the case had been dropped.
Patrick was pressing a kiss to a young Agatha’s forehead, and she was smiling as if she were disgusted whilst simultaneously pleased at her father’s outwardly affection. The woman next to Agatha, who Rio realised was the woman from the hospital bed and who must be Agatha’s mother looked straight at the camera, her expression void of emotions. That large gold cross hung unmistakably around her neck.
This was who her fake wife was? Rio couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t had much access to the internet when she was growing up and she had no interest in the newspapers her Abuela read at the breakfast table before school so she wouldn’t have recognised Agatha anyway. How someone so known by the world would be allowed to become an FBI agent was beyond her.
“Ah. My best bits.”
Rio jumped as she slammed her laptop screen shut.
Agatha laughed, appearing from behind the couch. She didn’t seem the slightest bit annoyed by Rio’s snooping. She had changed, now wearing all black in the form of a sports zip-up that covered her chin and lips, leggings and Uggs.
Rio offered her a weak, “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. I’ll just have to do the same to you.”
Rio refrained from telling her she wouldn't find anything. That unlike her she was nobody.
Agatha turned to leave, and Rio couldn’t allow it, not now. She was so intrigued by the woman, by her wife. She wanted to know everything about her and because of this, she blurted out her next words:
“I don’t want you to get a new partner!”
Agatha stilled.
“I…I want to be yours,” Rio stuttered. “If you’ll let me.”
Agatha turned, a smirk on her face and Rio wanted to punch her. She nodded her head towards their front door.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?” Rio asked.
“On a walk. Think we could both use the fresh air.”
***
It didn’t surprise Rio when they ended up in Central Park. Agatha offered to buy them coffee from a stand and Rio let her.
They had so much to talk about, so much to unpack, and Rio didn’t know where to start. She wasn’t good at that, the talking about her feelings. She thought she should ask Agatha about her lover first because that would clear the air, set the record straight.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
The thought of knowing that Agatha was in love with someone else threatened to destroy her. No matter how hard she tried Rio knew she wouldn’t be able to detach from it, but she also knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she would expel Agatha from her life now that she was in it.
She broached a topic she could actually handle.
“So…you are Agatha O’Connor?”
Agatha sipped her coffee as she shook her head. “Used to be. I had to change it when I joined the FBI because it was too recognisable. I took my mother’s maiden name instead.”
Rio raised her eyebrow for Agatha to continue. The other woman laughed in response.
“It’s Harkness.”
Rio let the name bounce around in her head. Agatha Harkness. She liked it. It sounded right.
“Well, nice to meet you, Agatha Harkness, I’m Rio Vidal,” she held out her hand for Agatha to take.
This was like their first encounter but in reverse. This felt new, like a complete reset.
Agatha reached out and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Rio Vidal.”
Rio tried to ignore the way her entire body buzzed at the sound of her name on Agatha’s lips.
“You have a beautiful name,” Agatha said, holding Rio’s gaze.
She cursed herself for the way her breath hitched, and it was only then she realised neither of them had let go of the other’s hand.
Rio vaguely made out a playful laugh and screams coming from behind them as she let Agatha’s blue eyes drown her. It was the other woman breaking contact that snapped her back into reality.
“Hi, baby,” Agatha said as she lifted a small form onto her hips.
Rio blinked, her eyes darting between Agatha and the little boy who squealed as she pressed kisses into his cheeks.