Perfidia

A Veronica Dahl Short Story

This free story is a prequel to events that take place in the series The Last Flame. Consider becoming a paid subscriber and read more about Veronica Dahl, Inez Carerra, and much much more.

Veronica Dahl still had the scar above her eyebrow from the first night she met Inez Carrera, and every time she looked in the mirror, she remembered exactly how it got there. It wasn’t from a bullet, a knife, or one of the dozens of criminals who thought they could intimidate a private investigator by throwing a punch. It came from Inez.

Three years earlier, in some filthy warehouse, they stood on opposite sides of the same case and neither one was willing to back down. The argument turned ugly, pride took over, and two stubborn women decided fists would settle what words couldn’t. By the time it was over, both of them were sitting on the concrete floor bruised, bleeding, exhausted, and dangerously aroused. The violence had awakened something between them, something raw and primal that neither could deny. That was the night Veronica finally realized she had met someone just as impossible as herself. That was the problem with Inez Carrera. Enemies were easy. Veronica understood enemies. Inez was something much more dangerous.

Inez had become a lover. Veronica and Inez would challenge, beat, save, infuriate, and fuck each other with the same level of passion. Their bodies knew each other’s secrets, he way Inez’s back arched when Veronica’s teeth grazed her neck, the taste of Veronica’s skin after a long night chasing leads, how they could go from throwing punches to tearing off clothes in seconds. Through it all, Inez was still the woman Veronica wanted standing beside her when everything went bad.

That was why tonight hurt. Enemies betrayed you. You expected that. Inez wasn’t supposed to.

Veronica sat in the back corner of The Blue Saint staring at the photograph on the table in front of her. She had looked at it twenty times hoping she missed something, but the picture never changed. It was Inez standing outside Gabriel Moretti’s hotel, handing him the files Veronica had spent six months putting together. The case. The evidence. Everything.

Veronica reached into her jacket and pulled out a cigarette. The lighter clicked. The first drag did nothing to calm her down.

“You always smoke when you’re trying not to punch something.”

Veronica closed her eyes. She didn’t need to turn around. That voice had haunted her dreams and woken her in sweat-drenched sheets more times than she could count.

“Inez.”

“Veronica.”

“You have a lot of nerve walking in here.”

Inez Carrera stepped into view wearing that same confident expression that had gotten her into trouble for years. Black jacket. Dark eyes. A smile that always made Veronica wonder if she wanted to kiss her or knock it off her face. Oftentimes, both.

“Courage was never my problem.”

“No,” Veronica said. “Loyalty sure as hell was.”

Inez sat across from her and looked down at the photograph.

“You found out.”

“I’m a fucking private investigator.”

“I know.”

“Then you should have known I would catch you.”

Inez looked up.

“I did.”

Veronica stared at her. That was worse than a lie.

“You wanted me to find this?”

“Yes.”

Veronica laughed and shook her head.

“You really are unbelievable.”

“I had a reason.”

“Of course you did. You always do.”

“Dammit Veronica, I mean it.”

“So do I.”

Veronica leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow more threatening than shouting.

“Give me the speech, Inez. Tell me the story. Tell me how you had no choice. Tell me how betraying me was somehow for my own good.”

Inez said nothing. That made Veronica angrier. The great Inez Carrera finally had no answer.

“You know what the worst part is?”

“Tell me, Veronica.”

“I would have expected this from anyone else.”

The words landed harder than either woman expected.

“I trusted you Inez.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

Veronica tapped the photograph.

“You think this is about a damn case?”

Inez looked away.

“You think I care about Moretti? There will always be another criminal. Another liar. Another person trying to fuck someone over.”

Veronica pointed between them.

“This is about us.”

The silence that followed said everything. They had fought each other. They had hurt each other, physically and mentally. They had forgiven things most people would never forgive. They had marked each other’s bodies with teeth and nails, with pleasure and pain. But they had never done this.

“You always said nobody could hurt you,” Inez said quietly.

Veronica smiled, but it was bitter.

“Turns out I was wrong.”

Inez looked at the photograph.

“Moretti knew about us.”

Veronica paused.

“What?”

“He knew you would come after him. He knew your methods. He knew how you think.”

“Because you told him.”

“No.”

Inez leaned closer, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper that sent shivers down Veronica’s spine despite her anger.

“Because I told him what he needed to believe.”

Veronica studied her face.

Inez continued. “The files? Fucking fake. The evidence? Just enough to make him run. The location? Exactly where the fuck I wanted him to go.”

Veronica understood before Inez finished.

“You set the son-of-a-bitch up.”

“Yes.”

“You used yourself as bait.”

“Yes.”

“And you let me believe the one person I trusted stabbed me in the back.”

Inez didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Veronica stood and walked away before she did something she regretted. With Inez, regret usually came in two forms. Fighting with her or forgiving her. Both were dangerous.

“You should have told me.”

“You would have stopped me.”

“No.”

Inez looked confused.

“No?”

“That’s the lie you’re telling yourself because it sounds better.” Veronica stepped closer. “You didn’t hide this because you didn’t trust my judgment.”

“Then why?”

“Because you didn’t trust me.”

The words hurt Inez. Because it was true. Two women who had given each other everything somehow failed at the simplest thing. Standing together.

Hours later, Gabriel Moretti walked straight into the trap Inez built for him. The police called it brilliant. The newspapers called Veronica Dahl unstoppable. Inez made sure they never knew her part. That was her gift. She could make everyone see whatever version of the truth she wanted.

Two nights later, Veronica found Inez waiting outside her apartment.

“You look terrible.”

Inez smiled.

“You always know exactly what to say.”

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.”

“You hurt me.”

“Yes.”

“I should beat the shit out of you.”

“I could think of other things you could do to me, but, yes.”

Neither moved. That was always their problem. Veronica reached into her pocket and pulled out her gold, scratched lighter. Inez noticed.

“You kept it.”

Veronica lit her cigarette, took a drag, then held it out for Inez to take a drag of her own. Their fingers brushed, sending sparks through both of them.

“You’re surprised?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

Veronica looked at her, her gaze dark with desire and anger and something deeper.

“Because apparently surprising you is the only way to get through that thick skull.”

For the first time in days, Inez laughed. She looked at the scar above Veronica’s eyebrow.

“I never meant to give you that.”

“You fucking meant to the night you caused it.”

“Want me to apologize?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because then I would have to apologize for all your cuts and bruises.”

They both smiled. It wasn’t forgiveness. Not completely. Women like Veronica Dahl and Inez Carrera didn’t erase the damage they caused each other. They carried it.

Every scar. Every mistake. Every betrayal.

Because sometimes the person who hurts you the deepest is the only person who understands why it hurt at all.

“Come inside,” Veronica said, her voice rough. “We’ve got unfinished business.”

Inez followed her in, the door clicking shut behind them. The apartment was dark, but neither reached for a light. They knew each other’s bodies by memory, by touch, by taste.

“I’m still angry,” Veronica said as Inez’s hands found her waist.

“I know,” Inez replied, her lips tracing the line of Veronica’s jaw. “I like you angry.”

“You’re insane.”

“And you love it.”

Their mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongues, angry and desperate. This wasn’t gentle reconciliation. This was punishment and pleasure intertwined, just like always. Veronica’s hands tore at Inez’s jacket, sending buttons flying. Inez responded by yanking Veronica’s shirt over her head, nails scraping down her back.

“You lied to me,” Veronica gasped as Inez’s mouth found her throat.

“I know,” Inez moaned against her skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Not sorry enough.”

Veronica slammed Inez against the wall, pinning her wrists above her head. The power dynamic shifted back and forth between them like this, always changing, never settling. Inez’s eyes gleamed in the darkness, challenging, daring.

“Make it up to me,” Veronica demanded.

Inez’s knee slid between Veronica’s thighs, pressing exactly where she needed it most. “I intend to.”

Their clothes became a trail across the apartment floor, remnants of the battle they’d been fighting for three years. On the couch, against the wall, finally in the bed where they’d spent countless nights tangled together, in sleep, in passion, in arguments that ended with exhaustion and sometimes with mind-blowing sex.

Veronica’s anger didn’t vanish, but it transformed into something hotter, something that fueled her movements as she flipped Inez onto her stomach, her hands gripping Inez’s hips hard enough to leave marks.

“You’re mine,” she whispered harshly against Inez’s ear.

“Always,” Inez replied, pushing back against her.

The night stretched on, a marathon of reconnection and retribution. They took turns dominating and submitting, each taking what they needed from the other. Inez’s apologies were paid in pleasure, Veronica’s forgiveness earned through surrender.

As dawn broke, they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, bodies slick with sweat, sheets tangled around their legs. The scar above Veronica’s eyebrow seemed to throb with memory.

“I missed you,” Inez said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on Veronica’s stomach.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” Veronica replied, but there was no heat in her voice now.

“I can’t promise that,” Inez admitted. “But I can promise I’ll always come back.”

Veronica closed her eyes, feeling Inez’s heartbeat against her back. Some things would never change between them, the danger, the passion, the way they kept hurting each other and healing each other in the same breath. But for now, in the quiet morning light, that was enough.

Perfidia