Finding Gary (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 4) (14 page)

***

Taj leaned on the balcony bars of Zoey’s Brooklyn apartment the next morning, frowning under the rising sun with every word he was hearing.  He tried to end the call as quickly as he could, giving short, to the point answers, but it seemed Victor King had a lot to say that day.

“You’re sure?” Victor demanded.  “I don’t want hearsay, Taj. I want facts.”

“It’s a fact, Vic.” Taj shot a look over his shoulder, at the door of Zoey’s balcony, making sure she was still in the kitchen and out of earshot.  “She met with a federal prosecutor this morning.  The same one Gary met with yesterday.  He narked in exchange for amnesty.  An indictment is pending.  Might be a good idea to suspend your campaign before the FBI suspends it for you.”

“The hell I will.”

Taj heard Victor’s vigorous breathing on the other end of the line; sure a guttural scream was on the horizon.  Instead, Victor remained silent.

“They think they’ve won,” Victor spat; barely able to speak past his panting. “They think they’ve won, but I will always be two steps ahead.  If they take from me, I’m in a position to take right back—and their loss will be ten times worse than the loss they’re looking to serve me.”  Another long silence passed, and the scream finally came.  “Goddamn them.”

Taj sighed, watching the cars moving along the Brooklyn street below, eyes blank.

Victor growled softly, collecting himself.  “We’re all clear on your end, right?”

The cheap burner phone on his ear, the fifth Taj had used so far, was on its last leg, so Victor’s voice went in and out.  Regardless, he caught the gist. 

“It’s handled,” Taj said.  “We’ve been settled into Zoey’s old apartment in Brooklyn since she and Marcus were released from the hospital.  She doesn’t suspect anything, and neither does Jessica.  She even set me up with my own room.  I’m the only one she allows to be in the house, not just on watch outside.”

“Good.  Don’t do anything rash.  Stay calm, stay collected, and wait for my word.”

“Hailey?” Unable to stop his voice from hitching, Taj clutched the railing tighter.

“In one piece,” Victor said.  “For now.”

Taj leaned down and pressed his forehead into the railing.

“As long as you don’t turn stupid overnight,” Victor said. “Call me if there’s an emergency.  Otherwise, I’ll call you.”

Taj flipped the phone closed without another word, hardly able to take one full breath past his racing heart. 

The balcony doors slid open behind him.

Zoey smiled when he turned to her, cradling Marcus from where she lingered in the doorway.

Taj couldn’t help but smile back.  His eyes raced over her curly black hair, big brown eyes, and dark brown skin, all glowing under the afternoon sun.  His burning heart cooled.  He approached, poking a gentle finger into Marcus’ wiggling body.

“Feel like he gets bigger every second.” Taj held out his arms.

Zoey leaned over and handed him the baby. 

During their first few days together, she’d always hesitated whenever Taj tried to take Marcus from her arms.  He’d been worried she had some kind of sixth sense.  That she was somehow onto him.  As the days turned to nights, however, one after another, there’d been less hesitation on Zoey’s end.  Now that they were almost two months in, she was all but lunging Marcus into Taj’s open arms, grateful for any precious ‘me time’ she could steal throughout the day.

That moment was no exception, and as Taj took Marcus, he could feel the change in himself too.  Gone were the days that he handled Marcus like he was made of glass, debilitated by the fear of dropping or hurting him.  Now he took Marcus with ease.  The child wiggled in his arms with ease as well, smiling up at him from where his entire fist was planted between his grinning gums.

Taj smiled back, taking a moment to kiss his cheek before looking up at Zoey.

When their eyes met, she broke hers away.  That
hadn’t
changed over time.  She still couldn’t look him in the eye. Not for longer than a second.

She tugged on the arms of her long sleeved shirt.  “He’s going to be here any minute.”

“Still going ghost?” Taj asked.

“Definitely.”

“Punk.”

“I’m not running because I’m scared.  I’m running because I know that if I see Val…” She took a deep breath.  “I’ve already gone head to head with Angie.  Told her I never wanted to see her again.  If I see Val again, I might just kill him…”

“I get it,” he said, bouncing Marcus.  “I just like teasing you.”

This time, Zoey made the rare effort to hold his gaze, even as a blush hit her cheeks.  “I’ll just be in my bedroom.  Knock when he’s gone.  And by gone, I don’t mean out the door.  I mean inside his vehicle and driving out of sight.”

“I know the drill.  We’ve only gone over it four million times.”

“Don’t take your eyes off Marcus for a second, okay?  Don’t worry about offending Val, either.  I want you staring like an Asian behind the counter at a beauty supply store.”

“I have no idea what that means, but… Eyes on Marcus.  Got it.”

“Val’s used to being the boss.  He’ll try to take charge.  Don’t let him.  I don’t want them alone for a single moment, not even if—”

“I have to pee so badly; I feel like my bladder is going to explode.” Taj finished her sentence.  “And, if it comes to that, pee on myself.  I know the drill, Zoey.  I’ve avoided having a single glass of water all day in preparation.  You have my word. I won’t leave Val and Marcus alone for a moment.  I won’t take my eyes off either of them for a single moment.  If I have to, I’ll pee my own pants to ensure this gets done.”

Zoey lowered her eyes again, laughing.  “Thank you.”

“And as far as him strong arming me...”  Taj cocked his lip, chuckling.  “I’ve seen your ex, and he doesn’t scare me.”

“If only I was so blessed.  Because he scares the shit out of me.”

When the doorbell rang, the sound carried onto the balcony.

Zoey gasped.

With his free hand, Taj cupped her arm, smiling when he felt how hard she was shaking.

“Get ghost.”  He winked at her.  “I got this.”

12

After lying Marcus in the living room playpen, Taj waited for Zoey to “get ghost.”  Not until he heard the door of her bedroom click shut did he open the front door of the apartment.

Val appeared, in the midst of straightening his tie in the hallway.  He held a dozen red roses on his arm, blocking most of his face.

Taj chuckled.

Val narrowed his eyes, and double checked the number on the door.

“You’re in the right place,” Taj said, holding out a hand.  “I’m Taj.  I’ll be supervising your visit with Marcus today.”

Val considered him.  “Zoey?”

“Isn’t here.”

“Where is she?”

“She’d prefer not to be present, but her absence will have no effect on your time with Marcus, which started the moment I opened this door.  Why don’t you come on in before you waste any more?”  Taj stepped away from the door and motioned inside.

Val remained in the hallway, glowering.

Taj couldn’t blame him.  To have another man inviting you into your ex’s apartment, all the while warning you that your time with the child you helped create was steady ticking… that had to be enough to send even the most sensible man boiling over.  As Val’s eyes grew wider by the second, his feet still planted in the hall; Taj wondered if it was possible for Val to overcome the fury.

“Five minutes have elapsed,” Taj said, checking the wall clock in the living room, still motioning inside.  “That leaves fifty-five more minutes with your son, Val.  Time truly does fly.  I suggest you come on in before it becomes forty-five.”

A tiny bit of fight disappeared from Val’s eyes.  Nostrils flaring, he stepped inside, following Taj’s hand as he motioned to the foyer.

Taj closed the door and came up next to Val, noticing that his eyes were still searching the room.

“She’s not here,” Taj said, laughing as he took the roses from Val’s hands.  “Marcus is in the playpen in the living room.  Go and say hello.  I’ll be in the kitchen watching, but I won’t impede on your space.  You’ve got fifty-three minutes.”

Just before he turned away, Taj saw the tears moistening Val’s eyes.

And his heart fell.

***

Following Gary’s directions to the junkyard in Newark, NJ, Jessica found herself circling the white Cadillac that had killed Pansy and Marcus Black.

Just as he’d said, the car had been crushed.  After years of sitting in that junkyard, hundreds of other demolished cars had collected all around it, leaving the yard’s employees with their work cut out for them when Jessica had flashed her badge and demanded they dig it out.

Loving her all-powerful badge more than ever that afternoon, she circled the Cadillac, snapping photos as she went.  She’d been surprised to see the car hadn’t been badly crushed.  The roof was caved in, but the underside of the vehicle was still completely intact.  She assumed it was down to the strength of car flattening machines ten years ago being subpar in comparison to the strength they had now.

Lowering the camera, she glowered at the car, as if a beat up old Cadillac that had been sitting in this junkyard for years had all the answers.  After photographing every inch, including the interior, she circled to the rear of the car and went to her knees, kicking up dust that instantly took up residence in her nostrils.  Even as the dirt entered her lungs and left her wracked with coughs, she still laid on her back, wiggling as far under the rear bumper as she could get.

She went to raise the camera, but what she saw froze her in place.

Her jaw fell open, and her eyes spread wide.  After blinking several times, just to be sure she wasn’t imagining in things, she kicked out from under the bumper and pushed herself into a sitting position, leaning back on her hands. 

She hurried to the front of the car and lay back on the ground, wiggling under the engine.  Her gaze shot straight to the left tire, and the shock froze her heart.

She threw her gaze to the right tire, and once again, shot out from under the car like it was on fire.

As she came to her feet in a hurry, she yanked her phone out of her pocket, backing away from the car, stumbling over her feet as she did.

“Hey,” she breathed, once the person she’d called answered.  “I need you.”

***

He didn’t keep Jessica waiting.  He never had.  She couldn’t help the shy smile on her face when she realized now was no exception, even though she knew this was one of the busiest times of day for him.

The dust kicked up under his shoes as he approached, and he gave her the same bashful smile she was giving him, taking her around the neck in a chokehold.

“Thanks for coming, Daddy,” Jessica croaked, pretending he was cutting off her airway, laughing when he finally released her.  She slung her arm around his waist and sighed.  “I should’ve asked you to bring one of the other guys from the garage too.  If I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, the judge may not be willing to hear testimony from the lead agent’s father.”

Her father slowed his stride, hardening his dark brown eyes and placing his hands on his slim hips.  The lines on either side of his mouth sank deep.  “Judge?  Testimony?”

Jessica put her hands on her own hips, cocking an eye at him.  “Don’t stand there and pretend you don’t love serving as an expert witness.  I’ve seen you in action, old man, and if there’s anyone on Earth that puts on a better show for a jury than you, I ain’t met them.”

He sucked his teeth.

“Now come on,” she said, nodding him over to the Cadillac.  “Come and get under this hood and take a look.  Tell me what you see.”

Still eyeing her with playful irritation, her father passed her while shaking his head, mumbling something about her having always been too spoiled for her own good, even as he laid in the dirt and wiggled under the car.

Jessica watched the bottom half of his body shimmying as he did his inspection.  She hadn’t told him why she’d called him down there, or what she’d found.  She wanted to know that she wasn’t crazy.  It had been years since she’d helped her father out at his garage, so she wasn’t as fluent in automobile as she once was.

Minutes later, his body contorted some more, and then his head appeared, glaring up at her.

“What do you think, Daddy?”

“I think I should say a prayer for the last person who was behind the wheel of this car because there’s no way they’re still breathing, right?”

“Actually, they are.”  Jessica’s heart picked up.  “Why would you assume otherwise?”

“Well, baby…” He shot the car a stunned look, and then his eyes went back to her.  “Somebody sliced these brakes from here to kingdom come.”

“I fucking knew it,” Jessica spat, heaving.  “And there’s no way it was an accident, right?  There’s no way it could’ve been caused by the car flattener, or by rats gnawing at the line, or anything?”

“Never met a rat who could make a hole that precise, and this car hasn’t been fully flattened.  The floorboard is completely intact.”  Her father went back under the car, stayed for a while, and then wiggled back out while shaking his head.  “Nope, manmade.  And whoever did it made sure the cut was small enough to allow the brake to function normally for a while.  The size and angle of the cut was done intentionally so the fluid would leak slowly.”

“Why?”

“When it’s a slow leak, the driver isn’t likely to realize something is wrong.  The brakes wouldn’t fail immediately, not until the right pressure was added.”

“Like slamming down on them in a panic.”

“Yes, baby, exactly…”

Jessica sucked in a breath and turned her back to her father, doing everything she could not to scream.  She wasn’t sure if she actually gave in and screamed at the sky if the release would be out of debilitating anger or joy.  She recognized the feeling because she always got it when she was on the cusp of closing a case, but infuriatingly, wasn’t quite there yet.

As she dialed a number on her cellphone, she managed to hold it together, but when the person on the other end answered, she heard the fervor in her voice.

“This is Special Agent Jessica Borgia.”  She recited her badge number, voice trembling.  “I need a forensics team at the junkyard in Newark as soon as possible.”

***

“How did it happen?” Zoey asked.

Approximately fifty-four minutes later, not even a full second after Taj had closed the door behind Val, she’d come barreling out of her bedroom.  Eyes manic, she’d snatched Marcus from his playpen possessively and gone full on Mama-Bear.  Sniffling him, patting him down, checking him all over for god knows what.  After getting that out of the way, she’d joined Taj in the kitchen, holding Marcus like she’d gone years without seeing him, all while prodding Taj for all of the details.

Taj chuckled.  “He was standoffish at first.  Then, after about ten minutes, he introduced himself properly.  He gave me a handshake that was… fairly aggressive…”

Zoey looked away with a soft laugh.

“You know,” Taj continued.  “Asserted his authority and what not.  After we got that out of the way…” He watched her smile bloom, and his own followed right on its heels.  “He and Marcus just sat together on the couch.  Talking.”

“Talking?”

“Well, Marcus didn’t have much to say.”

Zoey rolled her eyes.

“But, yeah, Val just talked to him.”

“For the whole hour?  What did he say?”

“I wasn’t on top of the man, Zo.  I was watching him from the kitchen, but I gave him his space to be with his son.  I’m sure he was whispering the same things most fathers whisper to their firstborn son.”

Zoey’s eyes ballooned to twice their size, shining with tears.  Her lips curled down, inch by inch, and then trembled.

Stunned, Taj pushed off the counter.  “Hey,” he cooed, pushing away the tears that jetted from her eyes.

“I’m never going to know what Val’s first words to Marcus were,” she wheezed, her voice breaking amidst her fight to remain composed.  The harder she fought, it seemed, the more her body rocked with cries it seemed she was too weak to fight.

Taj cupped one side of her face.

Zoey finally gave in, letting her voice rise with her emotion, nearly screaming.  “I’ll never know what it’s like to lie next to both of them and watch them talk and cuddle.  I’ll never see Val whispering his deepest secrets to his son.  I’ll never see Marcus returning the favor.  I’ll never have the family I always dreamt of.  The family he promised me.”

Taj took both of her cheeks this time.  “You could’ve come out of that bedroom any time, you know.  You could come out and fight for your family    He’s going to be here every week, Zoey.   He’s going to sit in the hallway until his hour starts, just like he did today.  And once it does, he’s going spend most of it asking about you.  Looking disappointed as fuck that you’re not here.  Every time.  He’ll have a new vase of flowers every time, and we’ll stay choking on pollen.  He’ll have a new gift every time.”

“Flowers and gifts won’t fix what he did.”

“I’m not saying that.  All I’m saying is… You could have your family back if you wanted.  You could have them back today, if you believed, even in the smallest part of you, that you could forgive him.  Take it from a fellow dude… that man loves you and is waiting for you.”

Zoey shook her head, wetting the sides of his hands with her tears.  “I don’t know how to forgive him.  I don’t want to forgive him.  I want him not to have done what he did!”

“I understand…”

“I want to go back to a year ago and not spread my legs for him.”

“Then you wouldn’t have Marcus.”

If it were possible, her eyes got bigger, and the anger left her face.  “That’s true.” She sniffled.  “I take it back.”

He laughed, but when her face curled again, he closed in on her.  “Hey now, come on.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Zoey let him tug her to his chest, encircling her in his strength.  “I’m just postpartum.  I cry at the drop of a dime.  Don’t mind me.”

“You cry at the drop of a dime; I got hugs at the drop of a dime.”

“I know how uncomfortable men get around a crying woman.”

“Listen.  My mother and sister are both full blood Puerto Rican.  You and I have known each other for over a month, and you’ve yet to send a knife or a cast iron skillet careening at my head.  So we’re already doing better than half of my childhood.”

Zoey laughed into his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her.

“So I can handle your tears, Zoey Black.  All day.”  He pushed his nose into her hair.

Zoey felt him take in her scent, letting her eyes flutter shut as she breathed him in as well.

Then, Taj shoved her away. 

A stunned yelp left her lips, and then another when he swept a pistol from the waistband of his jeans, aiming it into the living room.  The sight of a gun in the same room as her child chilled Zoey to the bone.  She pivoted, and a gasp burned her lungs when she saw who Taj was aiming at.