Deep Dirty Truth

by Steph Broadribb

  As I step along the walkway a knot twists in my belly. I feel more nervous than a girl waiting on her prom date to arrive. Things have been tense between JT and me these past few days. When I spoke to him before going to the compound he was still so mad at me for taking this job, for helping North and the Old Man. The depth of his anger makes me fearful our relationship can’t come back from this.

  Lifting my hand, I rap my knuckles lightly against the painted green door. A moment later there’s a click as the lock releases and the door inches open. I bite my lip.

  JT, as big and sexy as ever, steps through the gap onto the walkway and pulls the door closed behind him. He looks at me, his big blues holding my gaze, all intense. His voice hushed. ‘Dakota’s sleeping, I don’t want to wake her.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘You changed your hair?’

  I don’t want to go into details. ‘It was a disguise.’

  He says nothing. In the silence of the night we stare at each other like two fight-weary boxers hesitating over making the next move.

  JT shakes his head. ‘Why’d you do it, Lori?’

  My heart punches in my chest. I’ve told him already, but he can’t seem to let it go. ‘North had to get the Old Man back to the Bonchese compound. Without—’

  ‘You could have been killed.’ There’s a muscle pulsing in his neck. He seems as angry as he had been when he’d first discovered I hadn’t told him he had a daughter and she that she’d been sick. ‘Just tell me why it was so damn important to keep that asshole alive.’

  ‘It was the only way for us to be safe.’ I explain about Luciano’s double-cross, about how North had proof I killed Tommy in self-defence and that Tommy and Luciano had been plotting to overthrow the Old Man. ‘If Luciano had won, or the Old Man had died before he’d lifted the price on our heads, we’d have had to run. We’d always have been looking over our shoulder. What kind of life would that have been for our child?’

  ‘You risked everything.’ The anger is gone from his voice, but there’s still a physical distance between us. ‘What happened tonight on the compound … You could have been killed.’

  ‘I had to keep Dakota safe.’

  He nods. He’s frowning, but there’s pride in his voice. ‘She’s a strong kid – a survivor. Tough and independent, just like her momma. We talked a lot out on the boat. She told me about her illness, the treatment…’

  My breath catches in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I hold my breath. Wait for him to continue.

  JT stares at me for a long moment. He looks like he’s weighing up what to say next real careful. Then he shakes his head. ‘We’ll talk more about it some other time.’

  ‘We can talk about it now, if there’s something troubling you it’s better to be honest with—’

  ‘No.’ He steps towards me, closing the distance between us and pulling me to him. ‘It can wait.’

  I feel his arms around me. Tilt my head up and press my lips against his. I feel the passion in his kiss, the strength in his embrace, and tell myself that everything will be okay.

  I’m lying to myself and I know it. There’s a problem between us, a secret JT’s not willing to share just yet, and I need to know what it is. A niggling voice, deep in the back of my mind, says if I let this fester it’ll only get worse and come back to bite me on the ass.

  But as JT pulls me closer I melt into him, blocking out my doubts. I’ve missed this. Missed him. And right now, this is all that matters. JT, Dakota and me, reunited.

  We’re strong, the three of us. And we’ve been through so much already.

  Surely together we can get through anything?

  69

  ONE WEEK LATER

  It’s hard acting normal, but I try real hard for Dakota’s sake, because, although the price is off our heads and we’ve resumed some kind of family routine, the threat of more trouble is getting closer.

  I owe Monroe a debt, and he intends for me to repay him in full.

  Evenings like tonight help. We’re meeting up with Red on board his boat for dinner. Oftentimes it helps me to forget for a little while, but that’s not happening tonight.

  Just before we drove over here, I got a text from Monroe: Enough time’s passed. We need to act. You leave for Chicago on Monday.

  Now we’re sitting around the houseboat’s table. The food is delicious – spicy shrimp gumbo – but I’ve got no kind of appetite. I feel sick to my stomach – dry-mouthed and shaky. I haven’t told JT yet. Hate to think on leaving my baby girl Dakota again. But I know Monroe won’t back off until I’ve done the job I owe him.

  Dakota’s chattering away. JT’s ribbing her about her love of shrimp.

  Red’s watching me closely. He gestures to my untouched plate. ‘Not to your taste, Miss Lori?’

  I force a smile. ‘It’s great, thanks, I just don’t have much of an appetite.’

  He narrows his gaze. ‘You hear any more about how things are working out with those Feds and the Miami Mob?’

  JT glances at us, then back towards Dakota. She’s not listening to our conversation though, too intent on getting through her plate of gumbo.

  Feeling our gaze, she looks up and grins. ‘Can I have seconds?’

  I smile. ‘Yes, honey, if Red says that’s okay.’

  ‘Mr Red, can I?’

  Red laughs and ruffles her hair. ‘Sure you can. Seconds, thirds, as much as you please.’

  Dakota grins, and shovels more gumbo into her mouth, humming as she chews. JT laughs.

  Red looks back at me and says, ‘So, you were saying?’

  ‘As you know, Luciano and his men were all arrested and charged. They’re awaiting trial, but Monroe says the case, especially against Luciano, is watertight.’

  I take a gulp of my beer. Hope Red and JT haven’t noticed the quiver in my voice. Red nods, and I can tell he wants more details, so I force myself to continue.

  ‘North made a deal. He’s given all the dirt he had on Luciano to the Feds and will testify against him in court in return for his freedom.’

  ‘So North’s not in jail?’ Red asks.

  I shake my head. Remember the last conversation I had with North just a few days ago. How he’d thanked me for what I did and told me he’d been in contact with Carly and that she’d survived the attack in her apartment with no permanent damage. If I ever needed the help of the Miami Mob, or Carly’s safe house in Tallahassee, I shouldn’t hesitate to ask.

  ‘North is head of the Bonchese family now. The Old Man will take a long time to recover. Gabriella’s dead, Luciano’s locked up, and his other daughter, Maria, has no involvement in the family business, so he’s named North his successor.’

  Red lets out a long whistle. ‘Well, damn.’

  JT’s eyes are down, focused on the gumbo, but his jaw is tight, his expression a little haunted, the way it is whenever North is mentioned.

  ‘North says things will be different with him in charge, but I’m not so sure. He might draw the line at some of the things Luciano got messed up in, but he’s still loyal to the Old Man.’

  ‘He’s a powerful man now, and a dangerous one.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I haven’t figured out whether my relationship with North is a good thing. He might have more honour than most of the Miami Mob, but he’s still a gangster. ‘At least the price is off our heads.’

  Red smiles. ‘And your federal friend stopped you getting charged, I’d count that as a win.’

  I nod, but it feels as much of a win as a bought-result boxing match. Taking my napkin from my lap, I put it on the table and stand up. ‘Could you excuse me for just a moment.’

  Red smiles, but there’s concern in his eyes. ‘Sure, Miss Lori, just don’t go too far – there’ll be a dessert coming out the oven in a moment.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Stepping away from the table, I move out of the cabin onto the deck. Gripping the handrail, I look out to sea. The moon is high overhead, her light twinkling across the surface o
f the ocean, which tonight is as calm as a millpond. I stare at the dark horizon. Listen to the gentle lapping of the water against the boat and try to stem the panic that thinking about what happened at the Miami Mob compound brings on.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  I flinch at the sound of JT’s voice. Hear him moving across the deck to join me. Turning, I look up into his face. Even though he’s right in front of me it still feels like there’s this massive distance between us. It’s been there since I told him I’d agreed to find North for the Old Man, and rather than getting better now the job’s finished, it seems to be worse. I think back to the night I returned from the job. How he started talking about Dakota and her illness, and the real intense look he had on his face. The bond between him and Dakota strengthens by the day. Maybe he wants to tell her he’s her father. Maybe it is time that she knew.

  I don’t know what to do. We’ve not talked about it, but then talking isn’t JT’s style. But he’s pissed at me, and I don’t know how to fix it. And the longer I feel the divide between us, the more I worry that it can’t be fixed. We talk about day-to-day things – my bounty-hunting work, Dakota’s school, his physical therapy – but we never talk about us. It makes me feel like I can’t confide in him now.

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He gazes at me, his expression filled with concern. ‘Sure, your arm’s healing nice, you’ve dyed your hair back to blonde, and you put on a brave face for Dakota, but you wake up most nights screaming. You’ll only take the basic jobs, stuff tadpole rookies do, things that are easy. And you and me haven’t—’

  ‘I’ve got to do another job for the Feds, and they want it started next week.’ My words come in a rush, unplanned. My heart’s punching against my ribs. ‘Monroe wants me to go to Chicago and do a sting to incriminate the head of the Chicago Mob. He says I owe him for getting me free and clear of what happened in Missingdon, and Tallahassee and the Bonchese family compound … and he’s right. I have to do it. But I don’t want to leave Dakota again so soon. I don’t want to leave you.’

  JT frowns, saying nothing.

  Shit. I can guess what he’s thinking. I hold my hands up. ‘I know, I know. I have to do this, that’s what I always say.’

  ‘Yeah, you do, kiddo.’ JT smiles. Reaching down, he moves the hair that’s fallen across my eye, and tucks it behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek. ‘I get why, but you’re always thinking about how you can protect Dakota and protect me. You always think you have to do the tough stuff alone. You never let anyone look out for you.’

  I hold his gaze. Know that he’s right. I think of having to face up to another set of mobsters, of taking on a new threat, in an unfamiliar city, and my stomach flips.

  ‘Dakota’s a tough kid, wise beyond her years. And your friend, Red…’ JT glances back towards the cabin. ‘Well, he’s real good with her. I reckon he’d have no trouble having an extra houseboat guest.’

  I get what JT’s saying; that Red could look after Dakota for a few days. And he’s right. I’ve seen how great Red is with my baby. I know I can trust him to keep her safe. I gaze up at JT. Remember how good it was to work alongside him, and how great it felt to know he had my six. ‘The Chicago job, I don’t want to do it alone.’

  He leans in, brushes his lips against mine. The scent of him – bourbon and smoke – is as intoxicating as ever, and my stomach flips again for a whole other reason. Then he pulls away a fraction.

  JT looks in my eyes with his big old blues and smiles again. ‘Then I guess you best tell Monroe that we’re both going to Chicago.’

  Acknowledgements

  The first thank-you goes to my Dad, who gave me the idea for this story. While I scooted off across Florida to go on a kayaking safari through the Everglades, he researched the area I was visiting and discovered the drug-smuggling past of Everglades City. As soon as he told me about it, I knew it would make a great backdrop for the action of a Lori book. We cased out locations and talked about the characters but, heartbreakingly, my Dad died while I was writing the story, and so he never got to read the final version. I just hope that he would have enjoyed it.

  Although writing is often thought of as a solitary job, the transformation from first draft to finished book is a real team effort. I’m eternally grateful to my amazing editor and publisher, Karen Sullivan, who spotted the potential in Lori and always champions her to the rooftops. With her insightful editing she helps me refine the early drafts into the fully fledged stories they become. Thanks also go to West Camel, for his fantastic edit notes, and to the rest of the dynamic #teamorenda – Cole Sullivan, Megan Robinson, Meggy Roussel, Mark Swan, Sophie Goodfellow, Anne Cater and all the amazing Orenda authors and bloggers who are so wonderfully supportive.

  Huge thanks go to my brilliant agent and all round fabulous guy, Oli Munson, for his great advice, expert guidance and tireless enthusiasm. The crime-writing world is a hugely welcoming and supportive one. A big thank-you to all the wonderful crime writers who are so generous with their advice and encouragement – you guys are awesome! And a massive thank-you to all the wonderful readers, reviewers, and bloggers who’ve read and enjoyed Lori’s adventures so far and have got in touch and posted reviews to let me know – knowing that my stories are out there and being read is very humbling.

  A huge thank-you to Andy for being my first reader; for your spot-on feedback, and for all your supportive encouragement. You are a legend.

  Big thanks to my crime-writing sisters – Susi, Helen, Alexandra, Louise and Karin – for the wine, laughs and support. You guys rock! And to Caroline and Kirsten for the regular horsebox wisdom and for making sure that I’m always fuelled with coffee. To Red, my dog, for his loyal companionship and great feet-warming powers. And to the fantastic City Writing crew – Rod, Laura, David, Seun, Rob, and James –your feedback is always so useful and our evenings always fun.

  And lastly, I owe a huge debt of thanks to my hugely supportive family – to my mum and Richard, my late Dad and Donna, Will, Rachael and Darcey, and my late sister Pod – thank you a million times, you are all amazing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Steph Broadribb was born in Birmingham and grew up in Buckinghamshire. Most of her working life has been spent between the UK and USA. As her alter ego, Crime Thriller Girl, she indulges her love of all things crime fiction by blogging at www.crimethrillergirl.com, where she interviews authors and reviews the latest releases. Steph is an alumni of the MA in Creative Writing (Crime Fiction) at City University London, and she trained as a bounty hunter in California. She lives in Buckinghamshire surrounded by horses, cows and chickens.

  Her debut thriller, Deep Down Dead, was shortlisted for the Dead Good Reader Awards in two categories, was a finalist in the ITW Awards, and hit number one on the UK and AU kindle charts. The sequel, Deep Blue Trouble soon followed suit. My Little Eye, her first novel under her pseudonym, Stephanie Marland, was published by Trapeze Books in April 2018.

  Follow Steph on Twitter @CrimeThrillGirl, and on Facebook at Facebook.com/CrimeThrillerGirl/, or visit her website: crimethrillergirl.com.

  Copyright

  Orenda Books

  16 Carson Road

  West Dulwich

  London SE21 8HU

  www.orendabooks.co.uk

  First published in the UK in 2019 by Orenda Books

  Copyright © Steph Broadribb 2018

  Steph Broadribb has asserted her moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publishers.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978–1–912374–55–7

  eISBN 978–1–912374–56–4

  For sales and distribution, please contact info@orendabooks.co.uk

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  Steph Broadribb, Deep Dirty Truth