by Freya Barker
The next ten minutes I manage to talk Grace down from committing a felony, while Rita sits pale-faced across from me, following every word.
“Joe will pick you up tomorrow at five, Grace, and let me remind you he’s the chief of police, and will not take kindly to any kind of revenge.”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “Anything I can bring?”
“Hang on, let me ask Rita.” I cover the mouthpiece and turn to her. “Grace wants to know what she can bring.”
If possible her face only gets paler. “Her?” Then she leans forward and grabs my hand. “Nothing. You hear me? Not. A. Thing.”
I’ve just hung up with Grace when the phone rings again. This time it’s Joe.
“Hey, honey.”
“Leaving now. I’ll pick up a few pies, be there in thirty.”
“Sounds good.”
“Dad there?”
“He’s not back yet.” My eyes glide to the stove clock that says it’s five forty-five. Clueing in, Rita immediately goes to the narrow window next to the front door.
“Contractor’s truck is gone.”
“He’s not?”
“Your mom says the guy’s truck is gone. Want me to go check?”
“Fuck no. You stay where you are, and for God’s sake, keep Ma inside too if you have to tie her up. I’m on my way.”
The next ten minutes last forever. Rita alternates that time between cursing her husband for refusing to carry a cell phone, and me for not letting her leave. Finally Joe’s SUV turns onto the street but he passes his driveway to turn into mine.
Then he disappears inside.
Two minutes after that, we can hear sirens and two police cruisers pull up along the curb across the street, followed closely by an ambulance.
Chapter 28
Joe
“Jesus, Pops.”
My father’s face still looks pale against the white sheets of the hospital bed, but not as pale as when I found him lying in the upstairs hallway of Ollie’s house, in a puddle of blood. It had taken me a moment to realize he was still breathing. A moment lasting a lifetime.
“Guess that means I don’t get pizza for dinner,” he grumbles. “Just my luck.”
“I’ll get you pizza when you get home,” Ma placates him.
Pops came to as the EMTs were working on him. No holes, thank God, but a nasty gash behind his ear that bled like a stuck pig. Normal for a scalp wound, I was told.
He hadn’t seen much. Had gone upstairs after the contractor left because he’d heard something. Thought maybe a critter had gotten in through the tarp. All he can remember when he opened the door to Trinny’s room, was a leg swinging at his head and then the lights went out.
The leg, as I discovered, was Ollie’s silicone prosthesis. The one she’d been wearing the night of the fundraiser. The gash, however, was courtesy of the doorpost his head was knocked into.
Ma had been surprisingly cool when I ran over to the house to get her. Tony Ramirez had shown up at the scene and he was right on my heels. He ended up staying with Ollie, who was far from cool and could barely look at me, but I didn’t have time to address that then.
My mother went in the ambulance with Pops; I stayed on scene to wait for Gomez and his crew to show, after which I followed my parents to the hospital.
Nothing showed on the scan, thank God. But the fact he’d been unconscious when I got to him, as well as his age, are the reasons they’re keeping him overnight.
A nurse comes in to check his vitals and turns to us with a friendly smile.
“Mr. Benedetti should have some rest. Visiting hours are over.”
“Come on, Ma.” I tap my mother on the shoulder when the nurse leaves the room. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’ll stay,” she says stubbornly.
“Cara, go home,” Pops urges her. “With a little luck I’ll be back before the boys get off the bus. It was a long busy day; tomorrow will be busier. You need to rest up and you’re not gonna be able to do it here.”
“Fine,” she snaps. “But I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” she adds defiantly.
Pops rolls his eyes. “Don’t doubt it for a minute,” he mumbles.
At home I walk Mom to the door. Tony lets us in.
“Where’s Ollie?” I ask, not seeing her.
“Upstairs. She’s been there since you left.”
“Benedetti!” I turn around and see Gomez in the middle of the street, waving me over.
“Right, I’m gonna run across the street. Ma, can you look in on Ollie? I’ll be right back.”
Gomez is already walking back to Ollie’s house and I catch up with him in her driveway.
“What’ve you got?” I ask.
“Looks like he got in through the garage, got up in the attic space spanning the house, and dropped down the access hatch in the master closet. Jasper says he probably tried to access the computer down here first, and then found the one up in the girl’s room and tried that. Both are password protected so whatever he was looking for he didn’t get off either of them. I’m guessing he was already upstairs when your father showed up with the contractor so he hid up there.”
“Prints from the keyboards?” I suggest.
“Yeah. Jas is taking them both into the office, but unless they were just wiped clean when he used them, we’ll be lucky to find any identifiable ones.”
“Neighbors?”
“Nothing usable. A few may have been home this afternoon that aren’t home now.”
“What are the chances this was Montenegro?”
Damian raises an eyebrow. “Not thinking a seventy-two-year-old with prostate cancer is likely to crawl around attics. Besides, agents had eyes on him just twenty-four hours ago. More likely he had someone in place already. Now…” He grabs my arm. “How’s your father?”
“Pissed he’s missing pizza, but otherwise okay. Five stitches, an extra bald spot, and a possible concussion, so he’ll spend the night, but he should be fine.”
“Good.” He turns to look back at my house. “That was another close call.”
“I know.”
“Matter of time before he cottons on his target is right across the street. “
“Know that too. Kids are coming home tomorrow.”
“Added complication.”
“Yeah.”
“I can look into secure placement for her. Get her set up in—”
“No,” I cut him off, staring him down as he scrutinizes me.
“Might be bet—”
“Not happening.”
He stares down at his boots, a muscle twitching at his jaw. Then he tilts his head, eyes coming to me. “Word of caution, Benedetti. I get where you’re coming from, but don’t let your need to look after her get in the way of keeping her, or your family, safe.”
I’ve heard enough, so I step into his space. “I see I need to spell it out, but I’ll be the one to fucking keep my family safe and Ollie covered. What you can do for me is track down the decrepit, sick, seventy-two-year-old man you guys lost.” The agent’s eyes flare with anger, but I don’t give a good fuck. They’ll do whatever they need to protect the case they’ve apparently been working for years, but my only priority is looking after what’s mine. “Now if we’re done, I’ve got a family to tend to.”
I wait for his affirming nod, and without another word, I turn on my heel and go see to that.
Ramirez must’ve been keeping an eye out because my door opens before I get to it.
“You got somewhere to be?” I ask as I step around him and inside.
“No plans.”
“Need you to hang around. Things are heating up and there’s too many moving parts for me to juggle. Work out a schedule with Blackfoot. No one else. Only two men I trust with my family.”
“Feds?”
“They focus on nailing Montenegro, we focus on covering Ollie.”
“Gotcha.”
He’s already pulling out his phone when I enter the living room and
see Ma in the kitchen. When my mother stresses, she cooks, no matter what time of day or night. I walk up to her, take the wooden spoon from her hand, and wrap her in my arms, my chin on the top of her head. She hugs me back hard.
“Pops is gonna be fine, Ma. I get you’re worried, but you need to get some rest.”
She pulls back from my hold and looks up at me. “Not your dad I’m worried about, Joey.” Concern is marking her face. “It’s your girl. She won’t open the door.”
Ollie
I can hear muted voices from downstairs and I know Joe is probably home.
My heart stopped as we watched emergency vehicles pull up to my house. I couldn’t breathe, thinking something happened to Sal. Thinking about him hurt, or even worse.
I brought that on.
This past week I’ve been spoiled with a family. Caring people I took no time falling in love with. Something I’ve missed—or maybe denied myself—for so long. I soaked it up, lived a dream. Let myself be lulled into a false sense of security, until it all fell apart today.
Today it was his father. Tomorrow his boys come home. I can’t let anything happen to them. I can’t let this family take on any more of the blowback from my life.
I’ve been lying here, trying to build up the courage to pack my bags and climb out a window, but I can’t just leave Trinny. I’m so torn.
I never saw Joe. Tony knocked on the door once and I told him I was fine. Then Rita was up here just ten minutes ago, trying the door, which I’d locked. I never answered her. I can’t face her.
I recognize Joe’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and I brace myself. The doorknob turns.
“Ollie? Open up, baby.”
I pull a pillow over my head to try and block out his gentle voice, my nose stinging with tears. I can still hear the banging, though.
“Shit, Ollie. Open the door.” The gentle is gone from his voice, replaced with worry.
Now he’s trying the bathroom. I locked that door as well.
“You don’t open this door right the fuck now, it’s coming down.”
I inhale sharply, recognizing his anger, but the breath gets stuck in my throat when I hear a loud crash, and in the next moment the pillow is torn away from my face.
“What the fuck, Ollie?” he barks, looking down at me. “Why are you lying here in the dark with the goddamn doors locked?” He flicks on the lamp on the nightstand and I cover my eyes against the light. “You’re freaking Ma out. She’s so worried she’s got fucking marinara sauce going at ten thirty at night.” My hands are pulled away from my face. “Jesus, baby.”
I could handle his anger, but his soft kills me and I promptly burst out sobbing.
“I’m so so-sorry,” I cry, burying my face in the pillow.
I feel his weight settle on the mattress and the next thing I know I’m on top of him, my face pressed in his neck, his arms banded around me—and no matter how hard I struggle—he won’t let me up. I vaguely hear him mutter to someone, “It’s all good. I’ve got her.” Then I hear footsteps going down the stairs.
I cry until my throat is raw, and he lets me. By the time all I do is hiccup, his big hand is stroking down my back and then his voice is right by my ear.
“Fucked up. Saw you hide in full sight and I should’ve taken a moment, Sweets.”
“Your da-ad…”
“Is fine, baby. Coming home tomorrow with a new battle scar to brag about.”
I feel his arm around me relax and I knife up and off him, aiming for the bathroom, but I forget my prosthesis is leaning against the bed and I almost take a nosedive. He’s faster, catching me around the waist just as I’m going down.
“Settle.”
“I have to go. It’s not safe,” I plead when I realize there’s no way to get out of his hold, my back pressed against his front and my foot clear off the floor.
“You go and you won’t be safe. Can’t let you do that.”
“I go—they won’t have reason to hurt your family,” I snap.
“Something you don’t get. You are family,” he whispers behind me. “A few days ago you told me you were falling for me, shining a light on me so fucking bright, I couldn’t even find the words to tell you I’m already there. No fucking way I’ll let you take that light away and my heart along with it. Not letting you go, not a chance.”
Oh my God. He’s already there.
I let the warmth of his words seep into my skin and relax in his hold.
“Joe…”
“Don’t care if it’s too soon. Been fighting this for a while, and you know it, but when beauty walks into your life, you grab hold and you do it in a way you’ll never lose it.” His face is in my neck, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, and his words fill my heart to bursting.
“Joe…”
“Tomorrow when those kids come home—my dad is home—I’ll have everything I hold dear under my roof, and baby, I will move heaven and earth to keep that beauty safe.”
I believe him.
“Joe, I…”
He swings me around and before I can finish my thought, his head slants, his mouth is on mine and I welcome his tongue inside. I can feel him pour every promise in that kiss. It’s deep, it’s intense, and it’s so sweet, my emotions roll wet over my face.
His hands come up, cradling my face, and his thumbs brush at my tears but his mouth doesn’t leave me.
When he finally breaks the kiss, I whimper at the loss and he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes burning with heat. “Sucks, but the door is off the hinges and I’m not up for fixing it tonight. I need to reassure Ma, who’s probably onto homemade pasta by now, Tony is staying the night, and if I don’t stop kissing you now, I won’t be able to.”
“Okay, honey.”
His eyes warm and he drops a soft kiss on my nose. “Get ready for bed. Gonna sort out Ma, let out the dog, get Tony settled, and I’ll be up.”
He’s barely gone a step when I stop him. “Joe?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I lo—” His hand shoots out and his fingers press against my lips.
“After,” he whispers. “You give me those words when we’re on the other side of this, so I can show you how much they mean.”
Another brush of his lips and he’s gone. I tag a T-shirt from his drawer, head to the bathroom, and get ready for bed.
I’ve already dozed off when I feel his weight hit the mattress and roll into me. His knee comes up taking mine along, his arm snakes around my belly, his hand coming up to splay over my chest, hips snug against my ass, and his face buried in my hair.
The last thing I hear is his mumble, “Me too, baby. Me too.”
Chapter 29
Ollie
“Boys, go easy on Grandpa.”
Joe’s voice carries after the boys, who barely clear the door before storming inside, eager to see their grandparents. It’s momentary mayhem, with the dog jumping around, going nuts to have his playmates back, and the boys running from Sal, who barely got home an hour ago, to Rita who comes out of the kitchen to meet them, a big smile on her face.
I watch as Joe stops in the door opening, smiling at the family reunion. Then his eyes slide to me, and I’m bathed in the same warmth. As conflicted as I was last night about my place in this world, in this moment, it feels like I’m right where I belong.
“Your world, right here, man. Good for you,” I hear Keith Blackfoot, who came to relieve Tony this morning, mutter from his perch by the front window.
“Almost,” Joe tells him, but his eyes are on me. “Tonight we’ll have it all.”
I know he’s talking about Trinny, maybe even Grace, and for a moment I wonder if my heart can stretch to fill that big.
“Grandpa, what happened to you?” Ryder is standing in front of Sal, and Mason steps closer to have a look himself.
Sal looks at me and shoots me a wink. “Fell and hit my head,” he tells the boys. “Did you see the tarp on Ollie’s garage?” Both boys nod. “She had a fir
e. She’s been staying here for the time being. I went over to see what needs fixin’ and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Did you get stitches?” Mason wants to know. I guess for twelve-year-olds, stitches are like badges of honor.
“Five,” Sal says grinning.
“Whoa.” Ryder’s mouth falls open. “You okay, Grandpa?”
“Right as rain, boy.”
The boy climbs right on his grandfather’s lap and gives him a hug and a kiss, before jumping up again and running to the back door.
He’s affectionate. Much like the rest of the family, with perhaps the exception of Mason, but what adolescent is?
Not a perfect family, but a loving one for sure. I remember our family being like that growing up.
I’ve missed it.
This morning when I came downstairs, Rita came out of the kitchen, much as she just did, with a smile aimed directly at me. She pulled me into a silent hug that had those damn tears brimming again. That lasted a good long time and I let her warmth envelop me. Her hand came up to the back of my head and she whispered one word in my ear, “Tesoro,” before letting me go.
While she and Joe went to pick up Sal, Keith sat down to chat with me, but made himself scarce the moment they came home.
Seeing Sal was the second time today I almost lost it. I was told he was fine, and I believed he was fine, despite the bandage on his head, but when his eyes found me, his mouth smiled gently and he whispered “cara,” I had to swallow hard to keep the sob building from escaping my lips.
Now again, emotions rise to the top and I have to avert my eyes to gain control.
“Did Bugs do that?” I hear Ryder ask and I turn to see him, his hands pressed against the sliding door as he looks outside.
“Ollie and Grandma did,” Joe answers.
“No shit!” I almost laugh at his eight-year-old reaction, but manage to bite my lip.
“Language, Bud,” Joe cautions.
“Why?” Mason, who sidles up to his brother at the window, wants to know.
“To make it prettier,” Rita intervenes, and promptly changes the subject. “Now, who wants cannoli?”