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

4

The blackout curtains he’d purchased a year ago always did the job.  Drowning out every hint of sunlight in his Tribeca loft.  Even on the hottest Spring afternoon, when the sun was the highest in the sky, he still had to move through his penthouse on uneasy feet, holding his hands out in front of him to ensure he didn’t run into anything on his way out of bed.

That morning was no different.  After fighting to ignore whatever asshole had been banging on his door for over twenty minutes, Gary Romanovsky found his sleepy eyes squinting in the darkness.  He ran the palm of his hand up and down his bedroom wall.  Finally, he connected with the light switch, cursing the illumination that immediately seared his eyes. 

Pushing his burning green orbs closed with the beds of his fingers, he stumbled through the hallway and into his living area.  Feet slapping against the concrete flooring, he flicked on lights as he went, bringing a new piece of sharp, modern furniture into view each time, until he stumbled to a sleepy stop at his front door, clicking the switch there as well.

The light above the doorsill popped on just as he tugged open the steel sliding door, and he made a disgusted sound when Jessica Borgia’s brown eyes greeted him from the hallway.

She opened her mouth to speak.

Gary’s biceps exploded under his skin in his rush to push the door closed, giving it all his weight.

Anticipating this rudeness, Jessica threw her combat boot into the doorway before he could even begin closing it, stopping it in mid-slide.

“Slamming the door in my face?” she beamed, feigning shock.  In conjunction with her big brown eyes and adobe-colored skin, the face she was making made her look like a child.  “That is not the sweet and funny Gary Romanovsky I’ve come to know and adore.  We’ve shared four family dinners together.  I’ve met your mother.  I’ve eaten off her good plates.”

Gary chuckled, voice still hoarse with the sleep he was pushing out of his eyes with the heel of his hand.  “That’s real rich coming from you.
Ashley Williams
.” He made a face.  “Or is it Jessica Borgia?  I’m sorry; I’m still not completely clear on that.  Just like my brother wasn’t clear on it the entire time you were busting it open for him.”  His eyes traveled her body. The unapologetic curves that—even in a simple pair of black jeans and t-shirt—demanded attention, the long black braid cascading down from her shoulder, and the bulky combat boots.  “I don’t recall you being this butch when you were eating off my mother’s good plates.  I guess all those miniskirts and deep-Vs were especially for Leo, huh?  All part of the job?  Tell me, what laws do I have to break to get you back into your whore uniform?  Or isn’t cold blooded murder enough?”

“I don’t believe you’re a cold-blooded murderer.”  Jessica kept her foot in the door.  “And I need to ask you a few questions, Gary.”

“Unless you have a warrant, then I don’t have any answers…
Jessica
.”

“Listen.   The three-day weekend bought you some time, but now that time is up.  Your arraignment is tomorrow, and a lot of little birdies are telling me that you’re planning on pleading guilty.  Waiving your right to a lawyer.”

Gary pointed down to her foot, where she was still preventing him from closing his door.  “Pretty sure this is considered breaking and entering.”

“Just trying to save you from yourself, before it’s too late.”

“I don’t want to be saved.  I want to go to my arraignment, plead guilty, and be put in prison.”

“Why put on that performance at The New York Post?  Why show up to an office filled with blood sucking media vultures, in the pouring rain, and climb on top of a desk, just to confess?  Why not just walk into a police station?  Why the theatrics, if all you wanted was to be arrested and put in prison?”

“Get your foot… out… of… my… door.”

Jessica placed her hand on the doorsill to give her more leverage, leaning in as her voice lowered.  “I’ve got a theory.  Perhaps you put on that show—and it was a hell of a show, DiCaprio—because you couldn’t go to the police?”

Gary licked his lips and looked away.

She tilted her head.  “Perhaps you knew going to any police precinct in New York or New Jersey would be as good as putting a bullet in your own head?  That King would’ve had you erased before you even made it back to your car.  Instead of making that colossal misstep, you went to the one outlet you knew King couldn’t get his paws on.  You went to the media.  I’ve got to hand it to you.  Brilliant strategy.  Inspired.  But, sadly, it seems that’s where your brilliance ends? How dare you shit on such brilliance?  What a terrible waste, Gary.”  She slammed her hand on the door when Gary gave a little more elbow grease into the act of closing it.  “I know that Leo told you who I really am, and I know that’s what really drove you to confess the way you did.  Going to the media was the only way to save your family, and you knew the FBI would have your back because we want what you want.  We want Victor King.  What I don’t understand is why you’re playing so hard to get right now, when we both know your goal all along was for me to come a-knock-knock-knocking at this door.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that.  You seem to think this is the end of the road, but this is only the beginning.  You don’t have to make yourself the sacrifice when you’re really just the victim.  You don’t have to lose your family.”

Gary looked away, into his recently upgraded kitchen.  Leo and Roman had helped him put in the new cabinets and appliances instead of letting him waste money on a contractor.  All three of them had come close to leaving that project with fewer limbs than they started with, but they’d managed to complete it.  He hurried in a deep breath before the memory nearly sealed his lungs shut, and before he knew it, he was stepping away from the door, turning his back to Jessica and holding his hand over his mouth.

He heard her come in after him, and the sound of his door rolling shut.

“Nice place,” she said. “But I guess that’s a given for a man who works at a real estate empire.” 

Gary turned back to her, giving her a look that asked if she was really going to attempt to make small talk.

She pressed her thumb and forefinger together.  “It’s immaculately clean, too, which surprises me.  You always gave me frat-boy slob vibes.” In the middle of the room, she came to a stop, playing her fingers together.  “Have you spoken to your family?”

He leaned on the back of his black leather couch, crossing his arms and his long legs.  “Right after Val bailed me out of jail, he told me I was no longer welcome in his life.  He always does backward shit like that.  If he never wants to see me again, why post my bail? Sometimes I wonder if he just enjoys fucking with people’s heads, or if he honestly has no idea that he’s irony in the flesh.  I would’ve preferred if he’d just left me in there.”

“And the rest of your family?”

“Let’s just say I have all their voicemail greetings memorized.”

“I suppose they’re all pretty angry at you for what you’ve done.”

“Are you always this sharp?  The FBI sure is lucky to have you.”

Jessica began making her way through the room, running her fingers over furniture and random trinkets.  She stopped at the mantle in his living area, taking in the family photos that lined the top.  “Family torn apart, and you’re on your way to pleading guilty to a crime you committed when you were fourteen.  It just doesn’t seem right, does it?  Doesn’t seem fair.”  She clicked her tongue, facing him.  “I can help you, Gary.”

He shifted, squinting at her.  “What would your name be with me?  It was Ashley with Leo, but I think I’d prefer something a little more… sultry.  I’m partial to Roxanne myself.”

Jessica rolled her eyes and curled her lip.  “You’re not my type.”

“You’re not mine, either, sweetheart.  I’m talking about fucking, not holy matrimony.”

“You’re really working overtime to convince me you’re crass, but remember, I’m a federal agent.  I know a real pig when I’m in the presence of one, and you’re nothing but a bad knockoff.”

“I hope you’re not holding out for Leo.  He’ll never get over what you did to him.”

“How would you know, when you haven’t spoken to him in three days?”

“Because what you did was unforgivable, and he’s the last person on Earth who deserved it.  He had nothing to do with this—not any of it—but you used him regardless.” 

Jessica’s eyes grew bigger, but she turned away from him before he could see her face transform anymore.  She moved to the window.  Her breathing picked up as she drank in the Manhattan skyline.

“You know what else is unforgivable?” she asked, turning back to him.  “A bunch of grown men forcing a fourteen-year-old boy to live with this kind of guilt for ten years.  How did you keep your shoulders up?  I can’t imagine the weight—the enormous guilt that comes to fruition when you’ve killed two innocent people.  Whoever made it all go away that night understood the burden you’d be forced to bear.  That’s what’s unforgivable.  Do you realize that if you’d confessed back then, you would’ve been charged as a minor?  Do you have any idea the incredible difference between being convicted as a minor, and being convicted as an adult?”

Gary looked away, rolling his eyes when the stomp of her boots was suddenly in front of him.

“If you’d been charged back then, you would’ve never seen the inside of a jail cell.”

He rose his eyes to her and saw what looked like genuine concern.

She held her hands out.  “Worst case scenario, you might’ve been hit with involuntary manslaughter.  It wouldn’t even be on your record anymore.  Like it never happened.  Instead, the adults in your life tried to erase it.  Now, you’re looking at…” She counted off on her fingers.  “Vehicular homicide, obstruction of justice, leaving the scene of an accident, and if the prosecution at your arraignment is feeling especially ambitious, maybe even first-degree murder.”

Gary sucked in a breath.

“The statute of limitations won’t even save you because people are dead, and there’s no time limit for murder.  What was once a small problem is now a nuclear explosion because, ten years ago, those grown men made the wrong choice for you—the worst choice.  Why Gary?”

His eyes searched hers, and then he looked down at his twiddling thumbs.

“Why are you refusing to talk about what happened that night?  Prepared to go to prison for the very men who set you up when you were fourteen?”

“They didn’t set me up.”

“They sure as hell didn’t protect you, sweetheart.  It may seem like they did… But they didn’t.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I know you killed Pansy and Marcus Black.  I know you were just a snot-nosed kid when it happened.  I know it was an accident.  I know your father, Tony, is the one who covered it up at the 5th precinct.  I know he got rid of the car. I know he got rid of the streetlight footage; I know he got rid of it all…”

His eyes widened.

“And I also know that he needed Victor King’s approval to do it.”

Gary pushed his eyes shut, burying his head in his hands.

“I know Val was involved since it’s his face on that mug shot and not yours.  Gary…”  Jessica waited for his eyes to meet hers.  “If I know all of this, so do the police; so does the DA, and eventually, so will the media. I hope you understand that by pleading guilty, you aren’t the only person who will spend the rest of his life in jail.  A guilty plea will only give rise to more questions. Your father will be charged.  Val will be charged.  Anyone who knew anything about what happened that night, and kept it quiet, will be charged.  Probably on several counts.  Unless, of course, you decide to cooperate with me.  If you agree to be my informant, the FBI will become involved.  Give us the testimony we need to bring down Victor King, and we can get you immunity.  You won’t go to prison.  On the other hand, if you go to your arraignment and plead guilty, like a fucking idiot, you definitely will go to prison, and trust me, Gary?  You will not make it in prison.”

“I confessed to keep King away from my family.  They’ve been holding the death of the Blacks over our heads for ten years.  Using it to strong-arm and control us.  I told the truth to get them out of our lives, and I believe it worked.  That’s enough for me.  And I’m willing to get put away for it.  Why the hell would I agree to go up against Victor King and, in extension, invite that monster right back into our lives?”

“By confessing, you’ve already invited him back in.  How can you not see that?  You just sent a lot of slow moving wheels rolling at top speed, and it’s far too late to do an about face.  If he loses the Presidency because of this scandal, he will not stop until he’s taken from you what you’ve taken from him.  You’ve put something into motion that can’t be undone—won’t be undone—until King is in jail.  The corruption at 5th isn’t the only dirt we have on him.  Human trafficking, drug trafficking, election crimes out the ass.  He is covered in filth from head to toe.  Until now, he’s been able to hide that filth under expensive suits and a charming smile.  You could help us put him away before he has the chance to infect our Oval office.  This is a great deal I’m offering you, Gary.”

“You can’t guarantee me immunity.”

“The FBI has been quietly gathering evidence on King for a decade.  The DA doesn’t want you.  The US Attorney doesn’t want you.  We want King.  And if it means immunity for you and your family, you’ll get it in a heartbeat.”