Tough Enough (Tough Love Book 3)

by Trixie More

  “You could,” Doug agreed. “And then I’d be free.” Because there would be nothing stopping me from ending you. He hung up.

  “He said he’d be free, boss.”

  Marco put his hand over his eyes. This was a freakin’ nightmare. Sending Doug to Florida hadn’t gotten him arrested for jumping bail, he hadn’t stayed there long enough to get any attention brought to it and since he hadn’t dropped off the money, they had no idea where the guy was. He could be anywhere.

  When the girl was found by the Coast Guard, they’d decided to use the whole thing as a threat, demonstrate their power, use it to get Doug to agree to stop asking questions about the accounts.

  Stupid, stupid Kretlow. Marco cursed himself for ever bringing that idiot into things. Kretlow didn’t have a single idea how anything was done. He could have kept all eleven million and sat on it, moved to Europe and lived fantastically ever after. Instead, he’d dribbled the money back into Doug’s business from his own accounts. Idiot!

  “What the hell did he mean by that? If we killed his family, he’d be free?” Even as he asked the question, the idea hung in front of Marco. He knew what that kind of freedom would mean to him, but he doubted that was what Lloyd meant.

  “I don’t know. He hung up. Didn’t even want to hear why we were threatening him.”

  Now, that was news. Why would a man not care why he was being threatened? Because it didn’t matter to him. Why not? Because he already knew what he was going to do. That was something Marco could relate to as well. No matter what they did to Lloyd or his family, he was going to hunt the threat down or die trying.

  It was up to Marco to decide how to escalate this. There was really only one answer now. He could start killing a whole bunch of people, but that wasn’t going to stop Lloyd. So, there was really only one choice, the one he’d been trying to avoid. He only had one person he could use to put it in motion. The idiot who’d started all this.

  “This is a nightmare,” he said.

  Chapter 30

  By the time the plane landed in Newark, it was already five p.m.. Doug hurried through the gray and black surroundings, headed down the hallway with its moving sidewalk perennially motionless and under repairs, took the escalator down to the taxi pick up area. The first taxi he saw, he hailed.

  That afternoon at work, the building filled with people bustling around. The interim replacement for Jacob was starting tomorrow and the IT department was in the office, setting up the equipment. A woman from the HR department went in with a stack of file boxes on a cart. Sophia followed her.

  “Are you packing up Jacob’s things?”

  “Yeah.” The slight woman pushed her straight hair back behind her ear. “The new person is starting tomorrow. We don’t even know who to send Jacob’s things to.”

  Sophia shook her head. “What about his parents?”

  “I suppose that’s who’ll get them. He wasn’t married.”

  “Want help?”

  The woman shrugged. “Not supposed to, but I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

  They started with the credenza. The top drawer held hanging files, mostly empty. Some contracts, some folders on equipment, and a small number of working case files.

  “You should probably leave all that for the next person,” Sophia said. She thumbed through the files. “These are all still open. In fact, this is one I’m working on now.” She plucked the file for Colton Gerrimond.

  “That the guy that died with...”

  “The only password to a server full of money,” finished Sophia. “Yep.”

  “Did they check under his keyboard?” the woman asked and the IT guy laughed.

  “With that kind of money?” Sophia rolled her eyes. “I’ll go lock this in my desk.”

  When she got back, the woman had moved on to the bottom drawer which held only a pair of sneakers and a set of running clothes.

  The IT guy finished up and left, and they turned to tackle Jacob’s desk.

  “I kinda don’t want to look.”

  “Why not?” asked Sophia.

  “Him being dead and all.” The woman shrugged and pulled open the pencil drawer.

  He died trying to kill me, Sophia thought.

  The drawer held the usual desk stuff, pencils, sticky notes, odds and ends.

  There were two side drawers, one smaller and one larger. Like her own desk, the larger drawer was locked.

  The woman took a round of keys out, thumbed through them and opened the drawer. They both stared.

  Sophia was back at her desk when the call from the task force working on Jacob’s death called her.

  “Ms. Moss?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi, um, it’s Jim. We spoke this morning?”

  “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  “That sliver you brought over is a match for the slate roofing found at the scene.”

  She sat up straighter.

  “And blood?”

  “Yep. It’s yours.”

  “Thank you. Can you log that into evidence, please?”

  “Already done.”

  “Thanks, Jim.” She hung up.

  The sliver she’d found on Tom’s hat came from the house in Jersey. So Tom Kretlow had been at the house when it had exploded. He hadn’t been there after because it was an active crime scene first and then it had been fenced off to keep people from being injured until the debris was cleaned up. There was still a slim chance he’d visited it afterward, but really, why would he?

  He’ll probably say he wanted to see the place where the man he loves was blinded, she thought. Sophia wasn’t going to believe that for a minute.

  She still couldn’t believe what they’d found in Jacob’s desk. Right now, the office was closed, the desk empty, its contents taken to HR, hopefully, to be documented. Sophia opened her phone and studied the photos she’d taken before her new friend from HR had pushed her out. Jacob’s drawer had been full of hundreds, if not a thousand, betting slips. All colors, all types. From what she could make out, the top layer held seven from the day he died. How much would a habit like that cost?

  Her phone vibrated. She tapped her message app; the highlight dot was next to her conversation with Doug. Something caught her eye. Below Doug was Derrick, below Derrick, Ben, then Marley and then, Deb. Below that was a number with no contact. The toss away cell phone that Deb had used with George. Sophia hesitated, then clicked on Doug’s text.

  Just landed. In EWR, on my way to Manhattan. Call me.

  Just one more minute wouldn’t hurt. Sophia texted back—OK, soon.

  Then she flicked back to the messages from George. The last text he’d ever sent Deb was the photo of someone coming down a drive. The lights from the house were behind the figure, making it impossible to see who it was. There was a number on a concrete post, 405. A house number, she supposed. In the foreground there was the corner of a fender and a bit of a back bumper. Sophia emailed it to her work address and then scrolled up one more. A text.

  I can’t believe it, look.

  She flicked again. Another text.

  I think this is where they take the money.

  She flicked once more. Here was what she was looking for. Right there, in front of her, was the same house where Jacob Park had died. Sophia’s heart started to pound. The house that the freezer had been in, that the lab still hadn’t finished processing, was the same house George had been in front of the last day anybody ever heard from him. She sent that to her work email and turned back to her desk. On the larger screen she could make out more details from the photo with the figure in the driveway. The house behind him had the oddest shape. In fact she wasn’t even sure it was a house. It was comprised of what looked like two wings, both single story. The larger, closer portion was sort of angled and it appeared there was a dome on the house. She turned her attention to the car. There wasn’t much to see, just a fender and a back bumper. She forwarded the photo to Jim with a short message.

  Then she dialed
Doug back.

  “Sophia, where are you?”

  “I’m at work. Check your phone.”

  “I did, but I feel better hearing you say it. Your phone is not the same as you.” His voice was rough and confident. He sounded like her man. Why did she have to do anything about the confession?

  “I need you to stay there.”

  “Listen, Doug, we need to talk about Tom.”

  “I know, but not yet, I’ll explain everything as soon as I do one thing.”

  “Listen, I need to tell you some things I’ve learned.”

  “Turn right here.”

  “Who are you talking to?” she asked.

  “The driver.”

  “Where are you?” she asked. “Your phone’s been off. I tried to call you earlier.”

  “Heading to my place,” he said, and she could tell he was smiling. “I’ll call you soon. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” she said, almost without thinking. They both paused.

  “I know,” he said.

  “I’ll call you soon.” He hung up.

  He was here, in New York, on his way to his too-cheerful apartment one floor above Tom.

  “Oh no. This? Is not good.” Nobody argued with her.

  Relief rushed through Doug. Sophia was at work, and she was going to stay there. She wasn’t with Tommy, and that was the main thing. He’d had the full car ride home to think about Alice’s face when she’d heard Tommy’s voice, and even though he was struggling with the idea, he believed Alice.

  By the time the cabbie pulled onto his block, Doug’s head felt like a dozen tiny workmen were beating at his skull, with little ball-peen hammers. It was getting harder to focus. He was quite simply worn out. He’d slept a bit on the plane rides, but for the last twenty-four hours, he’d been flying or worrying or both. This contact in his eye felt like it was made of sandpaper. How the hell did people wear these things all day?

  “We’re here,” the driver said, pulling over.

  Doug handed him his credit card, thinking this might be the first time in his life he wasn’t going to pay the thing in full when it came. To everything, there was a season. He noted the tip, signed, and got out. He wanted to go straight to Tommy’s place, but he was just too tired. He would go on up, get a coffee, and splash his face. Then, he’d go for Tommy.

  With that plan made, he rode up the elevator, one floor above Tommy’s, and got out. He still hated the decor. As he opened his door, he wondered if Tommy had picked the place out knowing he would hate it.

  Sophia’s words from their weekend together came back to him. He’s in love with you. Didn’t you know?

  He’d laughed at her. He’s not in love with me. That would be—horrible. That would change everything.

  Doug stopped just inside the door. “Maybe that would explain everything.”

  “What would?”

  Doug startled. Tommy’s voice came from the darkened living room.

  Doug reached for the light switch. It clicked impotently; the apartment remained dark.

  “I’d tell you to be sure not to open the fridge, but the blackout isn’t going to last that long,” Tommy said.

  Was he drunk? Doug moved into the living room.

  “Shut the door.”

  Doug took another step.

  “I said, shut the door, Doug.” In the silence that followed, Doug heard the sound of a gun being cocked.

  He closed the door gently, the room black to him. He was sure there was light from the small windows, he could make out the bare shapes of the frames, but without enough light, even his new contact lens was no help. He stepped forward again.

  “So damn tough. You think you can just bulldoze your way through everything, don’t you? If you can’t buy it, sell it or beat it with your fists, it’s not for you, is it? Well, you’re not tough enough to get out of this.” Tommy’s voice was moving. It had been ahead of him, and now, it was to his left. Even if he’d been able to see, his left eye wouldn’t have caught the movement. Doug felt as if every nerve ending was on high alert. He was half-blind in the dark with a man he no longer knew. His only edge was that maybe Tommy wasn’t aware of how blind he really was.

  Doug decided to try to keep it that way. He turned swiftly and moved further forward.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, Tommy?” he said. “Put that way. You’re not going to shoot me. You’ve never even hit anyone in your entire life.” Doug tried to sound like he always did.

  “I hit you.”

  “What did you say?” Doug stilled, tilting his head, trying to hear any movement at all.

  When Tommy spoke again, Doug startled, just a little, but it was enough. Tommy was right behind him.

  “You really can’t see me, can you?”

  “I can see what I need to.”

  “Like hell. I hit you, Doug. I’m the one that hit you when you went into that house after that bitch of a prosecutor.” Tommy’s voice cracked, and Doug felt it in his own body. “How could you?”

  Doug struggled to fit this information together. “That was you?”

  “It was. You weren’t supposed to be there, and I needed to get out.”

  “Did you mean to blind me?” Sadness crept through him.

  “What difference does it make now?” Tommy’s voice kept breaking. “You’re blind. I did that.”

  “It matters to me, Tommy,” Doug said, and it was true. It mattered to him. Probably more than it should. “Did you mean to do this?”

  “Of course not! I love you, you idiot.”

  Doug’s throat tightened. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Tommy that she had told him as much, but he didn’t say it. “I love you too, Tommy. You’re my brother.”

  “Oh, fuck the old ‘we’re brothers, Tommy’ routine.” Venom. Pure venom flooded the words. Doug realized, too late, that he’d been a fool, blind long before Tommy had hit him.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy, I didn’t know.”

  “Oh, God.” That voice, so dear to him, was closer now. “That’s the worst part,” said Tommy. “I know you didn’t. You didn’t have a fucking clue. I kept hoping you’d get out of jail, changed somehow, gay. Or at least a lot better at being bi-sexual. You know, I think I would have moved on long ago if you’d never—”

  “If I’d never raped Ed Walker?”

  “You didn’t rape him!”

  “What would you call it?”

  “For Christ’s sake, you were both high as kites. I call it a shame. That’s what I call it. The damn video was spliced so much, who the fuck knows what really happened? For a minute there, when he was on his knees, you liked it, so I pushed you, urged you on. That day ruined us. I kept thinking someday, surely, you’d come to your senses.”

  “Tommy, I didn’t see,” he kept talking over Tommy’s protest, “or I didn’t want to see. I knew what people said about us, but I didn’t want to really think it through.”

  Doug listened. He couldn’t tell where Tommy was.

  “Don’t you understand? I love you, Tommy. You’re the closest person on earth to me. If I let myself know then.” Doug stopped, heartily ashamed of himself—again. “Admitting that I knew it would have meant losing you. I think I just needed to stay blind.”

  “What about me, Doug? What about what I needed?”

  “I’m so sorry, Tommy. I really am.” Doug turned around, hands raised beside his face in surrender. “But now, we have something else we need to discuss.”

  Tommy was right in front of him, he could hear him sniffling. “You’re right, Doug. Now we have something else to discuss, because I’m done sacrificing myself for you. I have to kill you.”

  The words echoed in Doug’s head. He and Tommy were like brothers.

  “Why?”

  “Camisa. He won’t let me go until I end this.”

  Realization hit Doug. “You did more than invest with him, didn’t you?”

  “We can’t both live, brother,” Tommy said.

  “Cai
n and Abel,” Doug said and launched himself at Tommy, coming in low and moving to the right. The gun went off, and Doug was thrown down as if a fist had punched him in the kidney. He took Tommy with him, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s thighs even as the bullet hit him, ripping them both off their feet.

  It’s not very loud, was the first thought in his mind, and then he felt the heat of the barrel through his shirt.

  Tommy was grappling with Doug, his right arm around Doug’s shoulder, the hot barrel of the gun burning Doug’s back through his shirt. He threw his weight to his left, trying to roll onto Tommy’s right arm and stop him from being able to fire again. As they rolled, Doug realized his mistake. Doing this would put Tommy above him, and it wasn’t likely he could hold Tommy’s arm beneath them. Doug scrabbled for purchase on the stupid-ass carpet. If he could just bear down on Tommy and keep him pinned, he might be able to work on...he lost that thought as they rolled back to the right. Tommy was wrapping his forearm around Doug’s neck, digging into his face with the other hand. Doug’s right hand slid across Tommy’s eye; he should gauge Tommy’s eye out, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Doug had the strength, not the will. He made a claw of his hand and raked down Tommy’s cheek.

  “You fight like a girl, Doug.” Tommy slammed his forehead upward, and they knocked heads. Doug’s brain was on fire; he could feel the world going fuzzy, could feel it spinning, and then he was on his back. Tommy was astride him. He heard the swish of the gun before it connected with his temple.

  Doug’s ears rang, and that calm came back. The ice-cold and slow calm. He lodged one hand under Tommy’s armpit, reached across with his other hand, grabbing Tommy by his right cheek, pulling on his head as hard as he could. Tommy’s head snapped to Doug’s right. He thought he’d broken his friend’s neck, but Tommy began to rise, falling sideways to the ground. Doug could hear him, sense him, but couldn’t see him.

  Doug lunged at Tommy, knocking him sideways. He searched in the dark for Tommy’s arm, trying to find the gun. His thoughts were fuzzy. Fighting the dizziness, Doug struggled to focus.

  This began with my father. I should have just forgiven him.