Red Ochre Falls (26 page)

“Are you sure about
this, Mattie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine
mom. I love you. Say hey to grandpa, and Aunt Eileen.” I tried not to cry after
we hung up.

I really wanted to
go to sleep and forget this ever happened. Instead, I sucked it up and asked
Garrett to help me get home.

After the full
wheelchair treatment, Garrett carefully lifted me to the car, and locked us
inside. As we neared the parking garage exit, he stopped to talk. He stared for
a couple seconds, which made my pulse shoot up and my cheeks flush, although I
wasn’t sure he could tell because of the bruises Ruggiano and his goons left on
my face. Garrett pulled off to the side before we got to the ticket booth, and
I caught the woman inside the booth shaking her head at us.

When I looked back,
Garrett was analyzing me. Hair, eyes, bruises, and when he got to my mouth he
leaned toward me.

“I need you,” he
whispered so intensely close my lips felt his. My eyes started to soften as I
waited for his passionate kiss. “I need you,” he said again, and brushed his
lips gently across mine, “to stay out of trouble.” My heart flipped. He sat
back up into his seat and maneuvered the car to the pay window.

I caught the lady
in the booth laughing. She handed Garrett a receipt and shook her poufy head of
hair at me. Probably enjoying the show.

The turn signal
indicated we were heading the opposite direction from home.

CHAPTER 22

Normally, I’d be thrilled to be in a hotel with Garrett. But I just
couldn’t get happy about it with all the pain and unanswered questions.

How did Ruggiano get
inside the funeral home? Why did he want the key to Chloe’s if he’d already
broken into her apartment and tossed the place? Who was Sultan? And what did my
father have to do with any of this?

Garrett hit the
elevator button. He hadn’t said much since we left the hospital. I didn’t make
much of an effort to talk either. The silence was nice.

We moved through
the hallway. Garrett focused on the destination, and me, mindlessly following
along wild with questions. He slipped the card into the reader and got a green
light. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the lock click.

The hotel door
swung open and we entered a spacious living area with a couch, large screen TV,
end tables and lights. I walked in and sat my bag on the coffee table.

The door closed and
latched into place. Garrett threw the deadbolt and did a walk-through. I
accompanied him and sized up the sleeping quarters.

This was my room.
Garrett had purchased an adjoining room to keep me safe, although, it also felt
very intimate.

“Everything all
right?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Do you want to
talk, or get something to eat?”

“I’d rather grab a
hot shower and order room service, but thanks for the offer.” I could hardly
believe I was sending him away. A conversation, much less a relationship, was
not going to work for me tonight. I needed rest, and to be alone to figure some
of this out on my own. At least it’s what I told myself. I was scared of taking
things further with him when I felt so vulnerable. My life at this moment felt
like equal parts confusion, exhaustion, and fear.

“No problem,”
Garrett said. “I’ll probably unwind a bit. Just let me know if you change your
mind. I’ll be right through that door.” He pointed to the adjoining door with
the key card still in his hand. “Cal has to take your statement. But he’ll come
later. Is that okay?”

I nodded even
though it hurt to move.

Garrett smiled
sweetly and left.

I sat on the bed
and stared at the door between us for a while. Would he come back? Did I want
him to? I imagined Garrett walking through the door, pulling me into his arms
and kissing me—not letting up until we both collapsed. I let the fantasy
take over for a few minutes.

Channeling our
chemistry warmed me until a cold blast from the air conditioner ruined it.
“What on earth? Who turned on the air?” No one was there to respond. Annoyed, I
turned the heater to high, and stomped off to the bathroom. Then I blasted
water, adjusted it from freezing to scalding, stripped off my clothes and hoped
for the best.

The water seared my
skin. It felt good, but I shivered deep down. I stayed under the water hoping
the warmth would reach my bones. My brain tried to analyze motives for murder,
but gave up and wandered back to Garrett. I was warm in seconds.

Next up, clothes
and food. On went stretchy pants, a tank, and a sweatshirt. I padded back to
the bathroom to dry my hair and looked in the mirror. Everything about me
screamed lonely girl about to throw back a $15 hotel burger and fries followed
by a $7 piece of cake. Maybe I’d get some wine. Just then, someone knocked.

I walked to the
door cautiously. The knock came again.

“Room service,” the
voice said.

I opened the door
knowing it was Garrett. He looked me over. At least I didn’t have on a
housecoat with green gunk on my face, or curlers in my hair.

“You look like you
could use a good meal.” He wheeled in a room service cart loaded with food:
fresh fruits, breads, and cheeses. But, it didn’t stop there. There were crab
cakes with remoulade, salad with shaved Parmesan, braised short ribs, and
mashed potatoes, too. After the first cart, a hotel staffer pushed a second one
right behind.

Desserts—jackpot!
There were beignets, assorted cookies, and even a molten lava cake with
chocolate sauce. My hunger was in overdrive. Suddenly, I was glad to have on my
stretchy pants. I’d surely need them to enjoy this gourmet feast.
 

“My hero!” I
couldn’t stop smiling as I looked at the food and Garrett. He paid the guy who
had wheeled in a third cart with ice water, soda, and even hot chocolate, then
left, while I drooled over the food.

“Ready to eat like
a queen?” Garrett gestured for me to sit at the table and placed a napkin in my
lap to serve me. “My lady, shall we start with an appetizer?” He waved his hand
over the crab cakes.

“But of course,” I
said, using my best fake French accent.

He laughed at my
silly attempt. The tension of the day’s activities eased and we were in our own
little world for a while.

Later in the
evening, the discussion shifted to what happened with Ruggiano. We could have
waited forever, but it was necessary since Cal would be over soon to take my
statement.

Garrett apologized
for being pulled away by Tess. Remorse showed on his face. I had suspicions,
but gave him the benefit of the doubt. He admitted her call was partly a ploy
to get him alone.

It was painfully
obvious Tess wanted Garrett back, and not one part of me wanted to see that
happen. But the alternative could be Tess manipulating Garrett, or worse,
protecting Chloe’s killer. Garrett tried to reassure me it was one-sided
affection. My head throbbed, so I changed the subject.

“Ruggiano and his
goons were waiting for me. Inside.” An involuntary shiver raced up my spine.

“They either picked
the locks, or someone forgot and left a door open.”

Or someone
intentionally left the door open, something I didn’t want to consider. It would
have meant someone who had access to the funeral home—my
home—couldn’t be trusted. Garrett admitted he wondered the same thing. He
planned to investigate, and handle the problem.

“Do you want to
talk about what happened?” He was concerned I might need to get it off my
chest. Here’s a guy who brought me food and wanted to talk about my feelings.
He seemed too good to be true. “I went to counseling when I came back from the
desert. It was the only way to deal with what happened over there.” Although he
admitted to skipping a lot of sessions, the ones he did attend were “worth it,”
in his words.

If a big, tough
soldier like Garrett could find the strength to expose the demons, so could I.

As I spilled out
details, the fear of being captive resurfaced. My body reacted like it was
happening all over again. I felt trapped and helpless.

We had to stop
until Cal arrived.

Cal reassured me,
over and over, this was not my fault. But he had this look of anger and sadness
on his face as he interviewed me, like he connected with my pain somehow.

I managed to pull
myself together long enough to explain what happened. How the guys caught me by
surprise—they’d been waiting for me—and knocked me out. Cal and
Garrett traded looks when I mentioned Ruggiano.

Cal told me he
thought Ruggiano might come after me, but didn’t think he’d show up in person.
It shocked me more than anyone. Our best guess was he wanted to rattle me to
the core—to scare me away from poking around. We discussed options, like
pressing charges, but I knew my accusations weren’t going to bring him down the
way he deserved, so we scrapped that option.

When I told them
Ruggiano mentioned someone he called Sultan, Cal stopped me. “Wait. Tell me
exactly what Ruggiano said.”

My eyebrows
wrinkled up trying to remember the details. “It was something like, ‘I wouldn’t
be in this position…if that Sultan scum,’ or something like that.”

“Explains the
tattoo on the guy who jumped her earlier,” Garrett told Cal.

“You mean the
sword?”

“It’s a scabbard,”
Garrett said. “Sultan’s crew gets tattooed as part of their initiation. Steal
something. Kill someone. Get a tattoo.”

“So, Sultan is
involved,” Cal said.

While Cal and
Garrett processed that information, I debated telling them Ruggiano also
mentioned my father. These two had my back, and I knew it. But my dad was such
an unknown to me it gave me pause. “Can I have a minute?” It was more of a
statement. I excused myself to the bathroom.

I closed the door
and paced. Then stood and stared into the mirror. I wondered where I came from.
At least, where the half belonging to my father’s gene pool came from.

Pieces of our
history flickered through my head, but it wasn’t much. A time when my father
spun me around and jiggled me until I giggled uncontrollably—then the
long years without him. He’d left when I was young. Silence deepened over the
years he’d been gone.

This wasn’t
helping. They were trying to help me. I had to come clean. I splashed some cold
water on my face, patted it dry, and went back to tell them.

“My father,” I blew
out a deep breath. “Ruggiano said something about me being like my father. That
he was protecting someone. I didn’t understand what Ruggiano meant. But it
might be something important.”

The guys exchanged
another one of those wordless looks that worried me. Cal quickly changed the
subject.

“Sultan is an even
bigger gangster than Ruggiano. Ever since Sultan came to town, everyone’s paid
him a percentage of their take on everything from girls to gambling and drugs.
Or been killed.”

“Um…” I probably
looked dumb just standing there, but I didn’t know much about gambling and
casinos, much less guys named Sultan and Ruggiano, who may or may not have put
a hit out on my friend.

“Ruggiano’s crew,
the East Street Boys, and a couple other gangs all pay up to Sultan. Word on
the street is Ruggiano is jealous. He wants control. And he’s setting himself
up to make a play for Sultan’s territory,” Cal said it like I was supposed to
know what it all meant.

Gang wars sounded
dangerous, but how did Chloe fit into it?

“A power grab like
that? Takes a lot of strategy, money and people. Perhaps, Chloe figured
something out about Ruggiano that Ruggiano didn’t want anyone to know. As for
Sultan? The guys in vice say he’s the big bad wolf. He’ll dress up like your
grandma, invite you for dinner then eat you alive.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, and Sultan
is tied to the casinos. He’s part of an investment group pushing new casinos
all over this area. I think if you want answers about the casino deal, he’ll
have them.”

“Then I should go
see him.”

“You don’t just go
see The Sultan,” Cal said. “It’s too dangerous. Besides, he won’t talk to just
anybody. You need an intermediary, someone from the street who can help you get
the intel you want.”

“How do I go about
getting one of those?” I kept after it.

“Mattie, it’s too
risky,” Garrett chimed in.

“I got an informant
who says Sultan is being cautious because he thinks Ruggiano wants to make a
move. Sultan’s already tight security was beefed up a few days ago. It’s got
everyone freaked.”

“What can I do? I
need information. I’ll go see him myself.”

“I’m telling you
it’s a bad idea.” Garrett crossed his arms.

“Got a better one?”

“No.” I could hear
his teeth grind when he clenched his jaw. He was not happy, but I wouldn’t back
down. “This is the plan.”

“At least let me go
with you.”

I thought about it
for a minute. “Do you know him too?” As if Garrett knew all the mobsters in town.
Maybe he did.

“Not personally,”
Garrett said. “But you’re not going alone.”

Neither one of us
would budge. Garrett could go in and back me up. Sounded good in theory. But in
reality, I knew we were going into a very bad guy’s territory. I gave us a 50-50
shot at leaving alive.

There was no way I
was going to tell my mom about any of this. She’d kill me for thinking up
something so stupid. It felt stupid, but it seemed like our best option.
Anyway, how bad could this Sultan guy really be?

“I can hear you,”
Garrett said. He couldn’t. At least I didn’t think so.

Cal gave his
opinion. “It’s risky. The Sultan used to be a henchman for Archie the Axe. And
even Archie, named after an axe for Chrissake, thought the guy was nuts!”

“The look on your face
says I can’t talk you out of it. Can I?” Garrett softened up and tried his best
to charm me out of it.

“Nope.” I wanted
him to use his charm on me, but not for this.

“Then I’d prefer to
be there and help protect you—if it’s even possible the way you rush at
danger head-on.”

“I’ll think about
it.” I thought about it. “Okay. I may be crazy, but I know we’ll probably get
more answers if we’re together. You can come as my back-up.” Big, muscle-y,
handsome, back-up.