Saving Poughkeepsie

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Saving Poughkeepsie Page 6

by Debra Anastasia


  “Thanks, officer. You staying here until she’s out?” Beckett continued ignoring the insults for now.

  “Yeah, elephant dick pincher. I’m not leaving her unguarded for a fucking second. Unlike you.” Morales opened Eve’s door and let it swing shut behind him.

  Beckett nodded at the closed door before turning to leave. That last comment stung a bit.

  Perhaps because of it, and against his better judgment, Beckett spent the night in the waiting room—just to make sure. Though for his trouble he was treated to the sight of Ted Hartt coming down the corridor just as his eyes opened in the morning. He dove for the vending machines, and then took the hint that it was finally time to go.

  His phone buzzed as he traveled toward the exit, and Beckett bit his tongue before he answered it. “Yes, Rodolfo?”

  “Taylor. Finally you take my calls. All I had to do was play with Eve a little bit to get your attention.” The old man coughed on the other end.

  “You do know that by hurting her, you’ve made an enemy of me.” Beckett could feel hate crowding words into his mouth. He’d known Rodolfo was involved, but to hear the old fuck admit it, without a care in the world…

  “Actually, I was never able to meet with her, and I lost several of my people in the process, so I think it’s safe to say I came out on the losing end.” Rodolfo sighed. “If only I’d been able to speak to you sooner. I’ve been calling for months. But never mind that now. I want to clear your head, clear the air. I won’t be after her again.”

  “I believe you not fucking at all.” Beckett had to will himself to not crush the phone in his hand. “What the hell did you want, anyway? What was so important that suddenly doesn’t matter?”

  “I understand why it might be hard for you to trust me. I will tell you this, that woman killed my Mary Ellen, but she has worth. I see that now. I also know that taking her won’t make a good partner out of you, and I’m still convinced we could work together quite successfully. I’ve been hearing my old friend Sevan Harmon is a bit down on his luck, so perhaps now would be a good time to cut him out of the trafficking through Poughkeepsie, hmmm?”

  “Not interested,” Beckett said. “You almost fucking killed her.”

  “Tone, young man. Tone. Well, that’s too bad. I’ll give you some time to think on it. But anyway, I’m getting older now. I need my legacy to continue. We don’t need bad blood between us. She’s yours. You can have her. Hell, out of the two of us—you need her more. She’s loyal to you. A good quality in a hit woman.” The sound of Rodolfo smacking his lips traveled the connection.

  “I’m not reassured. And I’m still angry.” Beckett curled his hand into a fist.

  “You have my word as a businessman. Why don’t you come by and we can discuss it in person. Sometime next week, maybe? I don’t want to disturb your plans for the Thanksgiving holiday. She’d just kill everyone here anyway. Yours is the only leash she will accept, and I don’t need to lose any more of my good men. For her to be useful, she can’t be in a cage, and that’s where I’d have to keep her. She’s a weapon for you.”

  Beckett shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m a man of my word. Let’s see how you do.” He disconnected the call and slid into the driver’s seat of the Challenger.

  Rodolfo had spoken some sense. Eve was not someone who could be forced into anything. She was too fucking clever and driven and single minded. But something still nagged at him. What had made now seem like the time to steal her? Was it simply that Beckett had gone out of town? Was there some message he was missing? As much as he hated the thought, perhaps an in-person meeting with the old coot would be useful. He just needed a little time to think it through. He sent a message to Rodolfo’s people that they should expect him on December third.

  Whatever Rodolfo’s plan was—or had been—Beckett hoped that maybe, just maybe, the old man had realized he needed to back off.

  He slammed the car into gear and drove to the scene of Eve’s accident, now two days past. When he surveyed the scene, sheer rage overwhelmed him. He opened the door to the Challenger and left it ajar while the car alerted him of this repeatedly. He actually stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. He inhaled and exhaled, trying to control himself some fucking way. The bendy yoga people seemed to get off on this breathing shit, so in and out he went. He opened his eyes and looked at the jagged guardrail. The fuckers that took her had plunged to their deaths through that little slice of protection.

  He blamed himself for it all. He wasn’t here, wasn’t protecting her. He was absent when she needed him. And most of all, his reputation hadn’t been enough to scare the assailants away. Doing good seemed barely worth it if he couldn’t keep his own family safe. Maybe he’d gone soft after all. In his head, the only answer was murder and plenty of it. The old way. The way he knew. If he stacked enough dead bodies on top of one another, no one would see past them to find the ones he loved. He wanted to go to Rodolfo’s compound and blow men away until he was out of ammo.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood looking off the road—enough time that cars began to honk, drivers cursed at him, and eventually, he grew chilly. He got back into his car. But he sat there and shot the middle finger at motorists protesting the inconvenience of his parking style, which had funneled the road down to one lane and forced drivers to time their passing of his car with the absence of oncoming traffic. Eve had asked him to wait. It was a promise that would be hard to keep. But damned if he wouldn’t try.

  Beckett began a huge mass text to all his known douchebags. He needed a nice quorum of loyal guys to make a more informed decision. The absence of Mouse pounded his conscience once again. The big guy would certainly have made today easier to handle.

  After driving to the meeting place—an old, crapped out restaurant Beckett had thought of renovating—he found himself among the last to arrive. He entered the room and waited as the guys quieted down.

  “We’re being attacked,” he said simply. “And it’s an unprovoked attack. As most of you know, Eve was abducted a few days ago. They didn’t get far with her, of fucking course. She’s alive. But obviously we’re going to have to retaliate against someone who would put one of my people in the back of a fake cop car and try to get out of town. They were purposeful and clever. And that’ll have to be the last time we’re bested.”

  He looked from face to face in the crowd. After more than six years out of sight, and just seven fairly inactive months back, he needed them to understand how he planned to do business. Shark stood in the back cracking his knuckles. He was a wild card. Yes, he’d helped Eve when she was working for Mary Ellen, but only when it suited him, and he sometimes had to be blackmailed to help at all.

  “As I’ve told most of you before, working for me shouldn’t be a death sentence. I’m doing shit a new way. I’ve learned. Surprisingly, I’ve aged. Situations have forced me back. Your loyalty has brought you here. I’m going to say this one more time: Being in my employ will always include a way out. I will never hunt you down and kill you after I give you the okay to leave. As of right now, there is no blood out of Beckett Taylor’s organization. Despite the attack on Eve, and despite my personal feelings about the fucker who did it, my desired approach to getting shit done hasn’t changed. I need you to understand that.”

  The men looked suspicious. As they should be. Maybe they thought he was cracked out on drugs, or drunk off his ass because of Eve’s injuries. The rotten restaurant setting surely made him look more insane than he was. It was like the old days at his crappy strip mall.

  “I have some intel, but now is not the time to act. Right now I need to get this town safer, which I know sounds like I’m speaking in tongues right fucking now, but hang tight. I’m interested in things being better for everyone, not just myself. Your job is to stay alert and listen. Can you all handle that?”

  When they heard he had a plan, they seemed a little less tense. They nodded or grunted their understanding.

  “Okay, get outta her
e, except for Shark, Dildo, and Treats.” Beckett pointed toward the door with his pinkie. He waited as the room cleared.

  The men he’d held back moved closer to the bar where Beckett had taken his stand. “Okay. I want you bitches to nose around. You find people that are just out of prison, families on hard times, old hookers, druggies that are straight. I want a file as thick as my dick of people to choose from.”

  Dildo, a tall, skinny guy with pale hair dared to speak first. “I’m not down for hurting kids. Or old people, hookers or not.”

  Beckett shook his head. “Do you not know me for shit? Jesus. That’s not who I am—especially not now. Don’t misunderstand. I’ve been looking into some abandoned properties. I want to divide you guys up and have you work with people. I want to build Poughkeepsie up while taking Rodolfo Vitullo down. He’s made it clear he can’t leave me, or at least people I care about, alone. And for now that’s confidential, you got it?”

  Shark raised an eyebrow. “You looking to kamikaze yourself? I’m not buying into that.”

  “No, numb nuts. I’ve just learned some shit these last few years while I was away. You give people a little respect, and they rise up to meet you. Not always, but sometimes. Don’t mistake it for me going soft. I’ll just as soon pound someone’s asshole into their brain if they fucking deserve it. Do you all understand?”

  The small crowd nodded. Beckett dismissed them all with a wave, but grabbed Shark’s arm and held until they were alone.

  “You gonna propose, big boy?” Shark gave Beckett’s commanding hand a side eye. “In that case, call me Dax.”

  “You’d never be that lucky, asshole. I’ve to get a few things straight with you before we move forward.” Beckett let go and crossed his arms.

  “I’m all ears. And penis, so the ladies say.” Shark’s eyes flashed.

  It was a risk, trusting this slippery sucker. But he’d been able to work with Eve when it counted, so that had to mean something. Plus, she’d shared some Mouse-gathered blackmail information that could be used to strong-arm Shark into doing what was needed. Though Beckett would rather have loyalty from this guy who excelled in getting into everyone’s back pocket, his brain was filled to the brim with shit that could help in a pinch.

  “Like I said, I’m changing shit,” Beckett told him. “I have to make this place as safe as possible for the people in my life. I’m fair, but I’ll need a commitment from you. And not wishy-washy shit like you pledge to all the other players in this godforsaken game. You have a family too.” Beckett waited as the information settled. Shark’s quick inhale and the tightening of his hand into a fist told Beckett all he needed to know. The nerve was hit. “No,” he continued. “You took that wrong. I’m not threatening your girl and Micki. I’m saying I know you’re juggling fire to provide. I get that. I submit that if we do this smart, keep the lines of communication wide open, we can get out. We can let this town be a haven for our people. I want to compile a bunch of likeminded individuals who can go to war if needed, but would rather not. Not peacekeeping shit, but not senseless, power-hungry bullshit either.”

  Shark was on edge, judging from his shallow breathing. “I’m listening.”

  Beckett nodded. “You need to leave, you go. But if you want a place to park your damn people and know you’re not fucking alone in protecting them, come with me.”

  “I’ve heard a lot a shit about you, and nobody’s my damn boss.” Shark stepped backward, away from the conversation.

  “And it’s all true. Probably multiply it times a hundred. I’m nobody’s fucking saint, and I don’t pretend to be. But I’m shit at running away. I’m tired of the way things were—the way they are. I’ve got too many people who deserve to sleep at night, not be punished because they know me.”

  “You’ve got a balance here that’s impossible to maintain long term,” Shark countered. His wheels were clearly turning, most likely picturing a life of easy chairs and school plays.

  “Impossible is just the shit nobody’s tried yet,” Beckett shot back. “My balls are way too big not to hope for the best. And I’m stubborn and vigilant and single-minded. I’m going to make this city a fortress.” He shrugged. He wanted Shark on his side, but not enough to lube up his own asshole and grab his ankles for it.

  “You need this decision now?” Shark looked at his watch.

  “Yup.”

  “And if I say no?” His hand went to his piece.

  “You leave. You never darken my door again, and I make no promises that I won’t shoot you dead if we come head to head in the future, but your family is safe from me. That’s my word.” Beckett ran a hand through his hair, already starting to re-block his plan in his head.

  “The blonde? She’s worse than you. She’s crazy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that to her face if you like your dick on your body. She’s in.” He hoped. He was letting her heal before roping her into his newest situation.

  “All right, you crazy motherfucker. I’ll work with you, but only if my family is as high up on your priority list as your own.”

  “I can’t put them that high. But the next step down, that I can cop to.” Beckett held out his fist.

  Shark looked at the gesture for a few beats. Finally, he nodded, tapped Beckett’s fist, and used it to add some choreography to the handshake, solidifying the union in a manly way. “What do you need first?”

  “I need you to find Sevan Harmon. Spend Thanksgiving with Micki and your daughter, then get on the road and find him. I’m not one-hundred-percent sure Harmon is useful, but I want every tool at my disposal when I lay this out. Rodolfo’s got weak spots, and he might just be one of them.”

  Shark nodded, and Beckett smiled, his dimples highlighting his pleasure. Fuck impossible.

  At the end of their second day in the Maryland hotel, Blake and his family concluded a day of outlet shopping with a dip in the hotel pool, and then met Cole and family with John and Kathy at the Chinese restaurant close by. Calamity ensued in the most endearing way—at least Blake hoped the other guests found it endearing. They set up a highchair for Kellan and a bucket seat holder for JB, blocking a bit of the walkway around the table in the process. Grandpa John looked so happy, it was damn hard to recognize him. Emme gave him her rundown on the menu, explaining the things she would be willing to eat and the reasons some of the offerings were subpar, in her opinion.

  “Grandpa, this says poo-poo platter. I really don’t think we should eat here.” Emme set her mouth to the side and gave the adults a hard look.

  Livia fastened a bib around Kellan’s neck while she laughed. “Try to read the rest, pretty girl. You’ll find out the ingredients.”

  Blake felt his phone vibrate with a text. Beckett had messaged that they could all go about their business and return at will. He felt he had things adequately under control. Blake acknowledged his brother quickly.

  Halfway through dinner, both Kellan and JB were fussing, so Blake and Cole each took an armful of child and went to the parking lot for some time-honored pacing. After both the boys had settled, Cole, still bouncing, asked, “That was him on the phone?”

  “Yeah. Beck says we’re clear for takeoff. Eve’s awake and starting to heal. He told me his people are on high alert, and the police are also ready to amp up their patrols.” Kellan snuggled deeper into Blake’s chest as he started to hum.

  “Does it make me a jerk if I can’t help but wonder if running to hotels to hide is going to come up again in our future?” Cole looked at his son.

  “Well, if it does I think it makes us both jerks. So far, it’s been mostly okay. Things seem under control or whatnot as far as Beckett and Eve are concerned. At least since Livia was taken, things seem calm. I don’t ask questions, though.” Blake pulled Kellan’s travel blanket from his shoulder and wrapped the child in it. “This nap is poorly timed.”

  “I’m so scared to wake him when he’s asleep,” Cole said, looking down at his son. “But then I’m checking a million times in a row t
o make sure his little chest is going up and down.”

  “That’s normal. Sorry. You never stop agonizing over whether or not the kid’s okay, or if the woman is happy. Endless cycle. Welcome, brother.”

  They chuckled and Blake added, “It’s a crappy club of no sleep, less money, and concerns that turn into heartburn in your chest at two a.m.” Kellan’s breath was warm against his neck. “Worth every second, though.”

  “That’s what I’m finding out.” Cole kissed his son’s forehead before continuing their previous conversation. “Should we be asking questions? I feel like I want to know what we’re signed up for.”

  Blake looked into the distance. Back in the day he would never have questioned Beckett—it felt like a breach of the man code or whatever. But since Livia had been taken, all bets were off. Now Eve was in the hospital, and maybe they needed to know if Poughkeepsie was the best place for a safe future.

  “I think we have to.” Blake met his brother’s eyes. There was a ton more left unsaid as the restaurant door opened, and the family came out in a whirl of laughter and questions.

  After tucking the kids into car seats, the caravan prepared to move. Cole and Kyle would return to Poughkeepsie and settle home with JB. John and Kathy would follow Livia, Blake, and the kids down to Florida and proceed with the vacation as planned. The girls hugged each other hard before getting into their vehicles. Blake and Cole nodded at each other.

  “I’ll call you about what we were just discussing later,” Blake told him.

  After twenty minutes of constant talking, Blake watched as the kids let the car motion rock them to sleep. Livia noticed as well and settled with a sigh.

  “Finally. Though we’ll pay for our lack of sleep later.” She rubbed the back of Blake’s neck.

  “Of course we will.” A light mist started, and he hit the wiper blades. “I’m excited for Disney.”

  “Me too. Emme’s going to flip over the characters. I wonder how Kellan will do?” She rustled through her bag and applied some strawberry ChapStick.

 

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