Vigilare (22 page)

“But, if I’m
Vigilare
,” she says, still half disbelieving, “and I killed all those people, don’t you think I deserve to be punished?” She pushes her food away, instantly devoid of an appetite.

He gently tugs at the collar of her standard issue, navy blue prison top. “I think you have done the city a favor. Look at all the people at City Hall, and this afternoon in the courtroom. ‘Viva Vigilare, Viva Vigilare,’” he whispers the catch phrase, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth. “They need someone to believe in. And quit saying
if
. There are no
ifs
, DeLuca, you’re Vigilare.”

“Now you sound like Dr. Godfrey,” she dismisses, pulling away from him.

“Where’s your sling, anyway?” he asks, noticing the arm sling has been removed from her right shoulder.

“I’ve been healed up for days. Aubrey thought it would look good in court. Empathy,” she says with a slight roll of her eyes.

“Healed?”

She nods her head. “Wouldn’t believe it, if I didn’t see if for myself. Barely even a scar left.”

“Speaking of, Aubrey. What in hell caused you to choose her as your counsel? Can I see?” He positions his hands over her shoulder, anxiously.

She turns her head to the side as he slides the rather loose shirt collar down over her right shoulder. “She asked if she could represent me. A favor, she said. I didn’t have a whole lot of options. Who else is going to represent me, with my DNA at eight of the fifteen homicides?” She shrugs her shoulders. “I like her. A little inexperienced, but her heart’s in the right place.”

“I guess,” he agrees. “Just wish you had someone a little more accomplished. Ruthless,” he adds.

“Like Mr. McVain,” she huffs, disapprovingly.

“Pompous ass. But he’s good at what he does,” Tony grudgingly acknowledges. “You upping your workout?” he asks, the sensuous swell in her arms and chest quite prominent.

“What else do I have to do in here?” She swallows the urge to emit a pleasurable sound effect as Tony traces his hand lightly over her shoulder, searching for evidence of the gunshot wound. “Lower,” she directs. “Besides, if I have to be a
superhero
, I need to be up for the job, right?” She chuckles.

“Good to hear you laugh,” he says, tracing the small exit wound scar before turning her slightly to check out the entry site.

She pulls her hair out of his way, wisping it over her left shoulder, exposing the right side of her neck and back. He studies her seriously, his closeness a bit unnerving.

“I think I might wake up sick, on my death bed tomorrow morning,” he says.

“You can’t get out of it, Gronkowski.”

“I know. I just don’t think I’m going to help your case any. No matter what I say, McVain is going to twist it to his favor.”

“Let him twist it. All you have to do is tell the truth,” she says, her voice low and relaxed, trailing off her words. Her head ducks to her chin, eyes closed as Tony inspects her flesh. The heat from his hands, his cool expiration causes her skin to tingle, displaying goosebumps along her spine and up her neck.

“This is amazing,” he says, his fingers tracing the even smaller entry wound over her shoulder. “Nobody heals this fast. Let me guess, Vigilares do.”

“So says Dr. Godfrey. Something with the blood,” she mumbles, distracted by his touch.

He encircles his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. “Are you scared?” he asks, referencing her feelings on the trial, possible conviction and sentencing. He trails the curve of her neck with his lips, unable to resist the urge any longer.

“A little,” she whispers, leaning into his frame. “Okay, maybe a lot.” He pulls her closer, his chin now gently resting on her shoulder. “On three different levels,” she adds.

“Scared of going to prison?” he guesses.

“Uh-huh. That’s the lowest level. Least of my worries. If it happens, it happens. Nothing I can do about it, only adapt,” she says very matter-of-factly.

“The
Can-Do
kid, huh,” he chuckles, lacing his hands in hers around the front of her waist, squeezing gently. “What’s next?”

“This Vigilare thing. If that’s who I am, or what I am...some of the time, why can’t I recall? It’s like I’m one of those people who sleep walks or wanders away from home and has no recollection of how they got there or who they are. Maybe it’s like Alzheimer’s or something.”

“Ah, you’re reaching, DeLuca,” he confirms what she already knows. “You may just have to embrace it. Ya know, the more you accept it, maybe the more control you’ll have over it?”

“What changed your mind? About the Vigilare thing. I thought you were calling all kinds of bullshit on the idea.”

“I don’t know. Maybe the lore, the edginess. Maybe the kid in me. Maybe the fact it’s you.” He chuckles. “Or maybe some unrequited sexual fantasy.”

“Gronkowski,” she elbows him.

“Uh,” he groans with the jab. “Seriously, you were sexy as hell, that night...all black-oped out, sparring with me, rolling around on the floor...hmm.”

“Whatever.” She giggles, pushing away from him unsuccessfully, as he pulls her back against him, tighter still.

“So, what’s the last level? The thing that scares you most?” he prods.

His heart beats prominently through his chest,
lub dub…lub dub…lub dub
, against her back, calling her attention to the fact that a handsome, warm-blooded, fully functional, capable man is holding her. If she goes to prison, or is some Vigilare freak of nature, will she ever be able to experience a man again? She exhales slowly, inhaling sharply, preparing to speak, but the words won’t come.

“This?” he fills the silence.

She nods sharply, finally pulling away from him. She stands, taking several safe steps in the opposite direction before turning around to face him. Her eyes a mixture of apprehension and desire, send a surge of initiative right through Tony’s core. He picks up the pizza box and the six-pack holder, replacing the open slots with empties upon standing.

“Give me a day to make something happen, and we’ll remedy that fear,” he says with full intent, dismissing himself from her cell, leaving the door wide open.

She watches him walk away, pushing her weight into the sliding door until the ominous lock sounds,
Clink
.

Chapter 15

VANGUARD COURTHOUSE. NEXT day. The proceedings are well underway for the final witnesses. The courtroom hosts the same crowd as the day before, with a few minor exceptions. Judge Carter happily eyes her new gavel, a gift from Detective Gronkowski, a peace offering for the late afternoon events of yesterday, causing her to crack her mallet while re-establishing order. A keen, yet brave attempt at wooing the unwooable Judge Maybelline Carter, the gavel elicits a distasteful response from Mr. McVain, compelling Gina to smile, shaking her head, wondering when Gronkowski would advance to politics, seeing as how he had schmoozing down to a science.

Mr. McVain circles the witness bench in front of Tony, well into his line of tedious and repetitive questioning. “Could you summarize your relationship with Ms. DeLuca?”

“We’re partners,” Tony responds, yet another short answer, further irritating Mr. McVain.

“Were partners,” Mr. McVain corrects.

“You ever worked in law enforcement?”

“No. And I’ll thank you to allow me to ask the questions, Detective.”

“You entrust your life to someone, your partner, there is no past tense. Of course, that’s a matter of honor and pride.” Tony grins. “Something I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about.”

“Could we skip the insults and stay on track.” Mr. McVain loosens his tie, unbuttoning the stifling top button of his perfectly pressed suit shirt, the tensed interplay between him and Tony causing his blood to warm. “Are you denying any relationship outside of work with Ms. DeLuca?” he presses.

“You mean, are we an item? Do we get hot and heavy under the sheets?” He wets his lips, running his fingers through his hair. “God, I wish!” His frank answer evokes a few blushed faces and quiet chuckles throughout the courtroom.

Mr. McVain bites at the inside of his lip, approaches the railing separating him and Tony, props his arm upon it, taking a casual position. “Okay,
hotshot
, let’s talk about the night you found out your partner, at the time, Detective Gina DeLuca, was the
Vigilare
.”

“Okay,
boss
,” Tony fires back in the same tone delivered to him, leaning onto the railing himself, leveling his intense focus on Mr. McVain’s. “Fire away.”

“You were camped out in front of Randall Barnes’ apartment complex, using him as bait. Correct?”

“Yes,” Tony confirms quickly. “It’s called a stakeout. We don’t
campout
, Mr. McVain. That’s the Boy Scouts.” He grins.

“Waiting for your murderer?” he continues, bypassing Tony’s add-ons. “Willing to risk Randall’s life and the life of a fifteen-year old girl to crack your case?”

“I assure you, his life nor Tessa’s was in danger, evident by the fact she escaped with her innocence intact, and Randall wasn’t taken out in a body bag.”

“What triggered you to follow Randall Barnes?”

“That’s a loaded question.” He scratches his handsome five o’clock shadow, assembling the various answers. “His complaint, earlier that day at the station. His behavior with Dr. Ryan during his session. Dr. Ryan was a suspect at that time, and her records indicated some animosity toward…”

“Are you insinuating...” Mr. McVain butts in.

“I’m not insinuating anything,” Tony cuts him off. “And if you interrupt me before I finish answering your question, I’m going to have to assume that’s your way of fishing for a different answer. Or you’re one rude, arrogant prick who thinks he already has all the answers. Which is it?”

Oohs
and shifting of bodies become audible throughout the courtroom. Mr. McVain pushes himself off the railing, creating a relative distance from Tony.

“Detective,” Judge Carter warns. “And do allow ample time for questions to be answered,” she checks Mr. McVain as well.

“To sum it up,” Tony jumps in, after an apologetic nod to Judge Carter. “I was following Randall Barnes because I had a hunch he was up to no good. And the way the case was going, he was next on the chopping block. As for insinuating,” he continues, cutting Mr. McVain off from interjecting, again. “I did not
insinuate
anything about Dr. Ryan. She was a suspect in the murders, based on the evidence at the time.”

“Evidence?” Mr. McVain questions. “You don’t consider rope burns on your partner’s neck evidentiary?”

“She trained that morning with the department Krav Maga instructor. Check the roster if you’d like to confirm. You’ll find her name, with witnesses attesting that she attended class, which focused on choke holds, to include ropes.”

“How convenient,” Mr. McVain huffs.

“Was that supposed to be a question?” Tony mocks.

Mr. McVain nods and grins, as if to acknowledge Tony’s
move
, and counteracts with his own. “You believe in Vigilares, Detective?”

“If you would’ve asked me that question a month ago, I would have said ‘no.’ Excuse me Judge Carter,” he prefaces, “but ‘hell no.’”

“So you do believe in Vigilares?” Mr. McVain probes, his expression pleased at Tony’s admission, believing it will surely aid in discrediting his testimony.

“I believe in
a
Vigilare,” he clarifies. “I saw her,” he nods in Gina’s direction, playing into the whole superhero theory as it seems to be the only saving grace for her at this point.

“Of course you did.” Mr. McVain smiles.

“Jealous?” Tony fires back.

He shakes his head pretentiously accompanied by a smirk. “No, Detective, I am not jealous. Simply concerned.”

“My mental and psychological aptitudes are available for your viewing, if that’s what you’re bringing into question here.”

“It’s not your
mental
nor
psychological
aptitude I am concerned with, Detective,” Mr. McVain coyly prances around his point, rather than addressing it directly.

Tony grins mischievously, his animated eyes fueling the flame. “I assure you, my
physical
aptitude is above average. Well above average.” Yet again, he draws a few more quiet chuckles from the courtroom.

“Wrap it up, Mr. McVain,” Judge Carter orders, growing further annoyed with their banter.

He nods, finally getting to his point. “When you stormed into Randall Barnes’ apartment, who did you find there besides Randall?”

“An unidentified individual, in black from head to toe.”

“Man or woman?”

“From the voice and build, a woman.”

“Is it true this individual...woman...was attempting to murder Randall?”

“She was attempting to save Tessa from Randall. Defending one’s self or the life of another hardly constitutes murder,” Tony clarifies.

“Who did you find when you removed the ski mask?”

Tony pauses, looking to Gina. She nods, knowing he has to tell the truth. “My partner. Detective DeLuca.”

“Did anyone else see Ms. DeLuca?”

“My accompanying officer. Officer Sam Marks.”

“The blood collected and taken from the scene matches that of Detective...Ms. DeLuca?” Mr. McVain inquires, quickly correcting himself in reference to her title.

“Yes.”

“And the same blood, Ms. DeLuca’s, matches that found at eight of the other murders in this case. Correct?”

“According to our CSI lab.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.” Mr. McVain returns to the prosecution table confident, yet partly annoyed.

Aubrey Raines makes her way to the witness bench, smiling, quite smitten with Detective Gronkowski. Of course, he smiles back. “Detective, how long have you worked for our fine city?”

“Going on twelve years now. Born and raised in Vanguard.”

“I checked your background, interviewed a few of your superiors, as well as men and women who’ve trained under you. Very impressive. Straight into the academy out of high school, Detective, Sergeant, four Medals of Valor, among many other accolades.”