Eagle's Heart (17 page)

“Easy?” Salomeh quipped. “Neither did I. Do they teach you how to charm women out of their pants at Quantico, or is that something you practice on your own time?”

“That’s not what I was going to say! I know I hurt you, but I was trying to tell you the truth this morning, so we could figure out a way to clear your name. Unfortunately we were interrupted by a group of people trying to do us bodily harm.”

“Wait, you think you can clear my name?” she said. Things were starting to come together in her head.

Only when Julian nodded and settled back into his seat did Salomeh realize they had both leaned toward each other until their faces had nearly been touching. Her seat belt bit into her shoulder, tugging her back into her seat, but she hadn’t noticed as he spoke. Even when she was angry with him, she couldn’t resist the pull he had on her.

“Well, we only know you exist because I came across a conversation between Alexi Turginov and his girlfriend discussing ruining a teacher,” he said. “I cross-referenced newspapers from around that time period and came up with a match.”

Salomeh’s breath left her body at the levels of implication in his words. People had coldly and callously decided to hurt her. She had known the decision had to be made somewhere and that Alexi and Ms. Kaslinko were involved, but knowing it had been discussed beforehand left her feeling cold and empty. As did another pertinent fact.

“You knew,” she said. “You knew that you had evidence that could exonerate me before you talked to me, and you slept with me anyway.”

She felt she would be ill.

“I’m sorry,” Julian said. “The evidence is tied up with our investigations, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“You should have told me the truth from the beginning,” she said quietly, the anger draining from her as her adrenaline high bottomed out. She wished she had never left her bed at Marta’s prompting and that she was still curled up beneath her blankets. She had been miserable, but at least she hadn’t been a fool.

Salomeh glanced at Yates, who stared straight ahead, pretending she wasn’t caught in the middle of their soap opera as she guided the car into the rightmost lane.

Salomeh looked at the green exit sign. KEW GARDENS, QUEENS.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of the anger, the fear, and the uncertainty. Julian meant nothing. Yates meant nothing. Salomeh’s ego meant nothing. The only thing that would make everything she had gone through worthwhile was finding Yelena and clearing her name.

Chapter Fifteen

As they drove through the familiar Queens neighborhood, Julian stared at the restaurants that spoke of its diversity—Russian, Pakistani, Uzbek, Indian. Here an Italian place, there a Chinese hole in the wall. It was inspiring how many people had come to this country seeking a better life, but he wondered how many of them had ever been able to shake free of the shackles of their homeland. He certainly hadn’t been able to. The dozens upon dozens of Albanian boys he had met over the course of this investigation with their baggy pants and gold chains and dreams of being gangsters— none of those boys had been able to escape. So many of them ended up dead or in jail, caught in the same web that would have ensnared them back home, but with an American twist.

He heard Salomeh shift in the backseat, heard the shaky inhalation of breath that he knew meant she was trying not to cry. Because of him.

So what?
an old familiar voice demanded. The younger Julian, brash and cocksure and not caring who got hurt—until it was too late.
You were doing your job. She’ll get over it and so will you.

It was probably true, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to slide into the backseat to cradle her warm body against his. To run his finger along her jawline, and to have her snuggle closer to him.

He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted her forgiveness.

“Almost there,” Yates said for Salomeh’s benefit, with a glance at him. Even in that quick meeting of the eyes, he noticed the curiosity and concern. He and Yates had a collegial relationship, mostly based on mutual hard work and her desire to constantly bust his balls, so the fact that she had been so quiet for the duration of their trip spoke to how bad this situation must look.

They pulled up outside of an imposing brick building. There were no windows to be seen, and it loomed over the neighboring structures, exuding a sense of foreboding.

“This is it?” Salomeh asked as she exited the car, artfully avoiding the hand Julian offered to her. She gave the building a once-over and seemed to be steeling herself for whatever awaited her.

“Actually, we’re across the street,” Julian said. He pointed to a nondescript building with yellow aluminum siding. It looked like the other three-family houses in the neighborhood, and even had a small garden in front, complete with patchy grass and wilted roses.

“That’s just some weird transportation authority building,” Yates said, squinting up at the larger building. “But when we bring in people who are being uncooperative, we like to tell them it’s a detainee torture center.”

Salomeh rolled her eyes and followed Julian as he crossed the street.

“It’s not necessarily a lie,” Yates said. “We don’t know what the MTA does in there. They could be kneecapping turnstile jumpers for all we know.”

That elicited a small smile from Salomeh, one that quickly faded when she noticed Julian looking at her. He figured she didn’t want him thinking that she found lies of any form acceptable.

The office was mostly empty due to the holiday weekend, although a few harried-looking agents sat at their desks plowing through paperwork. Whatever was going down with the West African syndicate, it was happening soon, and they still had no idea when or where it was taking place.

“Great, I lost my cell during our escape from Alcatraz. I need to make a phone call,” Salomeh said.

“Who do you want to call?” Yates asked.

“My friend Marta,” Salomeh answered and then narrowed her eyes in Julian’s direction. “You know, my friend who’s conveniently your neighbor.”

“Why?” Yates pressed.

“Because she’s my friend, and I want her to know I’m okay,” Salomeh snapped.

“Just let her call, Yates,” Julian cut in. “She’s been through a lot today. Let her use one of the untraceable lines.”

Yates motioned to Salomeh with a jerk of her head, and they both left the room.

Julian slumped in his chair, absentmindedly fingering the picture on his desk as his mind raced, the questions piling up like Tetris blocks.

He finally let himself think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been at Salomeh’s apartment, and the thought chilled him. Why had they chosen to go after her now? She had already been discredited in the media, and without Yelena, she had no evidence. Something wasn’t adding up.

Yates appeared in the doorway, cracking open a can of soda as she walked into the room. She had a bemused look on her face.

“So,” she began and then took a swig of her soda. “That was interesting.”

“It’s been a hell of a morning,” Julian said. Now that he was sitting and his adrenaline had stopped pumping, he could feel every blow he had taken that day. At least he was used to this lifestyle. He wondered how Salomeh was holding up.

“You want to tell me what happened before Henderson gets in? He’s on his way now, and he’s not happy. He was out playing golf on Long Island and doesn’t appreciate the interruption.”

“Well, as I told you via text, last night I began trying to gather information from Salomeh—Miss Jones. It seemed she didn’t actually know anything about Bardhyn, although he had set her up. This morning, she fled before I could finish our discussion. I followed her to her apartment and discovered she had just been assaulted by one of Bardhyn’s men, Alexi. The same Alexi from the transcript that led us to learn of Miss Jones’s existence.”

He tried to say it calmly, but Yates was as good an investigator as he was. He was sure she picked up on his agitation.

“While waiting for you to arrive, we were attacked in her apartment by men claiming to be the police. They were planning to kill Miss Jones and take me to Bardhyn.”

“This is all fascinating, I assure you, but I was talking about whatever weird sexual tension is going on between you and Miss Jones. Also known as ‘a possible source of information but not likely to be incredibly helpful’ in your case file.”

Julian ran a hand along the back of his neck and then shrugged. “At a certain point, things took a certain turn, and in the interest of the operation, I took that turn with them,” he hedged. Now in the glaring light of day, the stupidity and impetuousness of his behavior were abundantly clear.

“Was breakfast in bed part of this certain turn?” Yates pressed. “We stopped by your place this morning because a break-in had been reported.”

Julian leaned forward.

“Seems like Bardhyn’s men stopped by your apartment too, but you were conveniently waiting for them at Miss Jones’s. While we were making sure you hadn’t been abducted, we found the remains of what looked like a delicious breakfast. And some condom wrappers.”

“Jesus, Yates,” Julian muttered. “Yes, we had breakfast. And, yes, we had sex.”

“Did you happen to get any information while you were busy getting laid?”

“I did, and she’s here now to give us whatever we want to know. Why are you pushing this?”

“Because we’re closer than ever to catching our mark, and suddenly Agent Julian ‘Strictly Business’ Tamali is fucking persons of interest and calling attention to himself with gunfights in the middle of Brooklyn.”

Julian knew why she was furious. She had worked hard to get where she was in the agency, and if she had used sex to get information, she would bear the stigma forever. Julian, who had gotten the job on a lucky break to begin with, was not only able to fuck whoever he wanted, but in her eyes, he was jeopardizing a case that was make-or-break to her career.

“Yates, I didn’t ask for that gunfight,” he said. “And you know I want Bardhyn caught more than any of you. What happened with Salomeh was unplanned and unprofessional, but it won’t interfere with us catching him.”

“It better not,” Yates said. She headed for the door, shaking her head. “And I expected more from you, Tamali. You could have wrapped that woman around your finger and gotten the information you wanted without touching her. Can you imagine how she must feel right now? Because if your limited male brain can’t empathize, I’ll tell you. Besides being pissed, she probably feels like gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

Julian sighed. “Have you ever met someone who made you completely lose your sense of reason?” he asked.

“No, I’m too busy working my ass off,” she replied. “You might want to try it right about now by squeezing any info you can out of your girlfriend and having the report ready for me ASAP. We’ll need something to tell Henderson besides the fact that you got some action last night.”

“Want to interview her with me?” he asked. “I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now.”

“If you think I’m going to make this easy for you, you’re crazy,” Yates said. “First give her the apology you owe her, and then do what you were supposed to do: get us some viable information.”

* * * *

Julian stood outside the small room, watching Salomeh through the glass pane on the door. He saw her mouth the words
Talk to you soon
before she dropped the phone into its cradle and wiped tears from her eyes. Even from this distance, he could see she was trembling.

The door opened with a soft
click
, and she looked up at him from under tear-laden lashes.

“I’d like to be alone,” she said stiffly, clasping the edge of the metal desk.

“I have to ask you some questions,” he said. He held his hands up in peace as he approached her and sat in the smaller chair across the desk from her. “And I want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve had a very stressful morning, and you might be starting to feel the side effects.”

“You don’t have to pretend you care. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, and then I want to go somewhere else.”

She didn’t have to elaborate for Julian to know that she meant
somewhere far away from you.

“Salomeh, I’m not pretending.”

“Sure,” she scoffed. “I’m sure you said that to Zemer and all the other women you’ve banged on the job too.”

Julian had forgotten his slipup. He thought of telling her what the word really meant, but given her current hatred of him, it was probably best to wait on that.

“There are no others,” he said, willing her to understand. “I’ve never lost control on the job before.”

“Do you want a cookie?” she asked coolly. He would have laughed if everything weren’t so terrible.

“Look, I’m sorry because my actions I hurt you. I’m sorry because I was wrong. But I’m not sorry it happened.”

She met his eyes and didn’t look away from him. “You’re not sorry you used me?” she asked in a broken voice. “I told you
everything
under false pretenses. You let me trust you, you made me feel amazing, and now you’ve snatched it all away.”

He didn’t know what to say. She had again short-circuited his ability to do the one thing he was supposed to be good at. He reached across the table to grasp her shaking hand, but she pulled it out of his reach to swipe angrily at a tear that had escaped and was tracking down her cheek. Julian’s heart felt like it was imploding.

“All you had to do was ask,” she said. “If you wanted to know something, I would have told you.”

For the hundredth time that day, he thought back to her doleful eyes, illuminated by fireworks.

“That’s all I was going to do, but when you looked up at me, I felt something. Truly felt something besides hate and anger, and it had been so long since…”

In that moment, Julian knew there was no repairing this. How do you remedy a betrayal? How do you fix something you’ve shattered into a million pieces? “I’m so sorry it happened this way,” he managed despite the desolation that weighed on his chest.

“Me too,” she said, finally looking away from him. “Before I give you any more information, you owe me something. It’s your turn to open up.”