by Karen Rose
He moved quietly in the shadows behind the church, hyper-aware of his surroundings – and of the gun in the shoulder holster beneath his suit coat. The pistol was a piece of shit, but it had done its job Friday night, keeping Toby Romano quiet until he was sedated, and again tonight when Gage had relieved a man at an ATM of his cash. Gage had parked out of sight and worn a ski mask, so even if the cameras caught him, he wasn’t worried that he’d be recognised. He was more worried that the damn gun would jam. Plus, it had no silencer, and that limited its use.
Gage was hoping to significantly upgrade his arsenal tonight. Even if it turned out that Jazzie really had seen nothing and all his ends were snipped, his new job required certain accessories. A discreet car, nice suits and very powerful weapons just in case he ever needed to defend himself.
Rolling his eyes, he started down the gravel path that led through a patch of woods to an old cemetery. The particular violent thug he’d come to see had a flair for the dramatic.
He turned when he heard footsteps on the path behind him. Keeping his hands visible, he nodded once to the man standing before him. ‘Reverend.’
Reverend Blake nodded back. ‘Mr Jarvis. It’s been a long time.’ Blake was about sixty, with deceptively kind eyes and a set of muttonchops that had grown far more salt than pepper in the years since Gage had represented him in an intent-to-distribute trial. Blake had been as guilty as sin, but Gage had been a damn good lawyer. The kindly-grandfather look had been Gage’s idea, and it had made the difference with the jury. Nobody wanted to put a nice old man in prison.
Blake had ridden the wave of his acquittal, claiming to have found God, and had become a reverend. Of what kind of church, Gage had no idea, and he was sure that Blake didn’t either. It didn’t matter. The reverend get-up had been the downfall of those stupid enough to try to steal from Blake. Under those clothes was a ruthless killer, and Gage, for one, was not going to forget it.
They regarded each other warily, then Blake smiled and stepped forward to give Gage a man-hug, slapping him hard on the back. When he stepped back, his bushy white brows were lifted. ‘You’re carrying. Why are you here, then?’
‘Because I’m carrying shit,’ Gage said, aware that the hug had merely been an excuse to check him for weapons. ‘My situation has changed.’
‘Oh, I know. I know. You have supper with Cesar Tavilla and word gets around quick. So . . . What are you looking to acquire?’
‘Depends on your prices.’ Gage was four thousand dollars richer than he had been a few hours ago. The ATM in his old neighborhood attracted exactly the kind of victim he’d been seeking – a man withdrawing cash at an hour when well-behaved men should be in bed, keeping their wives awake with their snores. But this guy had been groomed to the hilt and dressed to pick up chicks. He’d been driving a Bentley and had withdrawn a grand from the ATM, indicating he had a high-limit credit card, then had proceeded to sit in the drive-thru line and count his money with the window still down. It was no effort at all to take his wallet and all his cash.
Gage’s luck had continued, because the guy actually had several high-limit credit cards and had written the PIN numbers on a scrap of paper he’d kept in his wallet. An hour later, Gage had collected the maximum cash advance from each card, hitting a different bank’s ATM for each withdrawal. He’d worn a mask every time, but he’d been lucky not to have been caught, and he knew it.
Fortunately he’d gotten enough cash that he wouldn’t have to pull any more ATM jobs.
‘I’d like a rifle with a scope, a semi-auto pistol that’s been converted to full. Or which I can easily convert myself. A pair of night goggles. Some tear gas.’
‘Not much, then,’ Blake said, amused. ‘Come with me.’
Gage didn’t move. ‘How much will it be? Because if I can’t afford you, I don’t want to waste your time.’
‘You kept me out of jail, Mr Jarvis. I think I can swing you a discount.’
‘Excellent.’ Gage fell into step with the man, who gave him a curious sideways look.
‘You’re going to work for Tavilla, really?’
‘Yep.’ Gage wasn’t stupid. He knew that once he started working for Tavilla, he’d be the man’s sword and shield for the rest of his career. ‘I’ve done worse.’
‘I know. But you may want to consider buying a passport under a different name. Just in case you find yourself at odds with your new employer.’
‘Not a bad idea. Can you acquire one?’
Blake huffed. ‘Only the very best quality.’ He led Gage to a nondescript sedan and opened the trunk, which was filled with enough rifles and guns to fuel a revolution. ‘After this, we’re square. We never spoke. I don’t even know you.’
Gage didn’t take his eyes off all that firepower. ‘Whatever you say.’
Thirteen
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 5.15 A.M.
Gage stood in the lobby of the apartment building across the street from his sister-in-law’s address. He knew that Lilah would emerge any minute. An avid jogger, she made a habit of running before the sun rose during the summer months.
It was important that he call his mother when Lilah wasn’t home, otherwise the bitch would interfere and stop Ma from agreeing to give him access to the girls.
He needed to see Jazzie for himself. Needed to see her expression when she looked at him. If she’d seen anything, he’d know. And if she’d said anything to the therapist, they’d both need to be dealt with. At this point he was hoping for the best and planning for the worst.
The door across the street opened and Lilah appeared, stopping under a street lamp to stretch. Hurry. For God’s sake, hurry. She finally set off down the street and Gage dialed his mother’s cell phone. A light came on in Lilah’s apartment and a moment later he heard his mother’s voice for the first time in over a year.
‘Hello?’ she said, her voice throaty.
‘Ma? It’s me. Gage. Your son,’ he added with an edge when she said nothing.
His mother exhaled on a sob. ‘Gage. I knew it was you right away, but hearing your voice after all this time . . . it took my breath away. Oh my Lord, it’s really you. Where are you, son?’
‘Back in Baltimore, Ma. I’ve been gone a while.’
‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘Where have you been?’
‘All over, but most recently Texas. I . . . I wanted to come home, Mama.’
‘Oh sweet Jesus,’ his mother crooned through her sobs. ‘I hate to tell you, Gage . . . Bad things have happened here. Terrible things.’
‘I know, Mama.’ He pitched his voice low, made his tone quietly devastated. ‘I heard it on the news when I was in Texas. I . . . was in a bad way that day. Coming off of a high. But then I saw on the news about what happened to Val, and I knew the girls would need me.’
‘They did, Gage. They still do. But . . . where have you been for the last month?’
Wait for it. Wait for it . . . ‘In rehab, Mama. I knew I had to fight this devil inside me so I could take care of my girls. I finally went to rehab, Mama, and I finished it. I’ve been clean for thirty-three days now. For the girls.’
His mother laughed with joy. ‘Oh, son, those words are music to my ears. I knew you could if you really wanted to. I’m so happy right now.’
‘Me too, Ma. I want to see my girls. I’ve missed them so much. I don’t want to wait another day. Can I come over?’
He had to hold his breath a few beats longer than he’d expected as he waited for her to answer, because she hesitated. His temper flared, but he fought it back. You lose it now and she will never trust you. ‘Ma?’ he prompted. ‘Can I?’
‘Well, they’re sleeping now,’ she said. ‘And I’ll have to get them up for church in an hour. You can come to church with us.’
There was a hopeful note i
n her voice that irritated him. ‘I don’t have any church clothes,’ he lied.
‘God doesn’t care what you wear, Gage.’
‘Ma.’ He tried to make his voice reasonable but vulnerable. ‘That’s a lot of people in one place. I’m working myself back up to being comfortable in a crowd. Trying to manage my stress, y’know. Just until I’ve been sober a little longer.’
‘That makes sense,’ she said slowly.
Good. She was coming around. Now for the coup de grâce. Careful . . . ‘Seeing my girls would really help me, Ma. Can I come over this morning?’
‘I told you, Gage, we’re going to church.’
‘They can miss church once, Ma. This is important.’
Another hesitation, this one longer and more deliberate. ‘We’ve got a routine,’ she repeated firmly. ‘They need stability. I’m afraid this morning won’t work.’
His temper began to bubble. When the fucking hell had she grown a goddamned backbone? ‘I just want to see them, Ma,’ he said from behind clenched teeth.
His mother drew a breath that he knew meant she was counting to ten. He’d blown it. Goddammit to fucking hell.
‘Your babies have lost their mama, Gage. It was terrible. And they saw her like that, all bloody and beaten. I know you need to see them. But Janie and Jazzie need stability right now. It’s important for us to take care of them. You don’t know what they’ve been through. Your needs have to come second.’
He forced his voice to remain calm. ‘All right. I understand.’ Like hell he did. Fuck their needs. He had needs too. He needed to find out what Jazzie had seen. ‘Can you tell me about them at least? How are they?’
His mother sighed. ‘Sad. Scared. Jazzie hasn’t said a word since they found Valerie. She has bad dreams but won’t talk about them. Janie’s a little better. It’s Jazzie that worries me the most.’
‘Is she seeing anyone?’ Tell me about this fucking therapist, Ma. I’m not getting any younger here. ‘A counselor or anything?’
‘Oh yes! She has a new therapist who’s been working on drawing her out of her shell.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ he said, oozing sincerity. ‘Where did you find this miracle worker?’
‘At a farm up in Hunt Valley. It’s a program for kids who’ve been victims of serious crimes. It’s all free, which is a relief. They do therapy with horses.’
‘I’m glad. But is this therapist qualified?’
‘Very much so,’ his mother gushed. ‘Maggie VanDorn has been doing therapy with kids for decades, but it’s a much younger woman that Jazzie’s latched onto. Taylor Dawson is her name. She’s new to the farm. Just graduated from college, I think. In fact, she’s taking Jazzie out for ice cream today, on her own time, even. Taylor’s a good girl. Very smart.’
Too bad for Taylor Dawson. In her case, smart just might mean dead. ‘Can I come over before the ice-cream date?’
‘I think that would be nice, Gage. Lilah and Jazzie plan to leave for the restaurant at a little before four this afternoon. You could drop by the apartment at two.’
‘I’ll do that, Ma.’ Actually, he wouldn’t, because Lilah would be there. He had to get them away from Lilah or he’d be fucked before he even started.
‘Wonderful, son. Just wonderful! Have you talked to your brother yet? He’d love to know you’re in town.’
‘Actually, I did. He was the one who told me that you were living with Lilah now. I called his house last night, looking for you. We talked for a long time. By the time we were finished, it was too late to call you. So I’ll see you all at two.’
‘I’m so happy you got clean, Gage. I am the happiest, proudest mama on the planet right now. Now you can be the daddy your girls need you to be.’
He rolled his eyes and bit the words back before they slipped off his tongue. Yeah, whatever, Ma. He didn’t need to be a daddy. He didn’t want to be a daddy. He’d never wanted either of those kids. What he wanted was to be left alone. But he injected a healthy dollop of humility into his tone. ‘I aim to do it right this time, Ma.’
‘I know, Gage. I love you, son.’
He grimaced at having to say the words back. ‘Me too, Ma. Listen . . . I want to start over with the girls. But I’m aware that Lilah doesn’t approve of me.’
A carefully drawn breath. ‘She didn’t approve of the drugs, Gage. It wasn’t you.’
The hell it wasn’t. ‘Well, whatever her reasons, she doesn’t like me. I think the girls and I would have a better chance at reconciliation if Lilah isn’t around when I visit. Can you maybe bring them to the park?’ He held his breath when his mother went silent. ‘Ma? You still there?’
‘I don’t know, son. I don’t think Lilah will like that.’
He barely stopped himself from growling. ‘I’m their father. I have rights.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘But Lilah is their legal guardian because no one could find you when Valerie was murdered. And I can’t have her mad at me. This is where I live now.’
‘How could she be declared their legal guardian already? Valerie’s only been dead for a couple of weeks.’
‘A month, Gage. A very long month.’
He didn’t like her tone. She was starting to sound irritated with him. He needed to pull her back into sympathy mode. ‘I’m sorry, Ma. I’ve been trying to get clean and sober. I just need to see my kids.’ He wobbled his voice for effect. ‘I need to see my girls.’
‘I know,’ she said again, and her voice had softened. ‘It’s just that we’ve been trying to keep Jazzie close to home.’
Shit, damn, fuck. His brother had been right. The kid had seen something and his mother knew it or at least suspected it. But nobody knew exactly what Jazzie had seen, because if they did, his face would be plastered across the news as a wanted man. ‘But you said she goes to a farm and rides horses,’ he said, trying to sound bewildered and not infuriated. ‘What’s so different about the park?’
‘She gets therapy at the farm.’
‘How do you know that seeing me might not be therapy too? I’ve changed, Ma. I promise. Please. They need their father.’ He forced a small sob, knowing his mother could never resist him when he cried. ‘And I need them.’
She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. ‘All right. I’ll bring the girls to see you in the park. I’ll think of something to tell Lilah.’
‘Thanks, Ma. You’re the best. I’ll see you at two.’ He clenched his teeth and summoned the words he knew she wanted to hear. ‘I . . . I love you, Ma.’
Her sniffle was audible and genuine. ‘I love you too, son. So much.’
He ended the call and blew out a breath. So far, so good, but Lilah would be back soon. He slipped out of the lobby, pausing a moment to check for any joggers, then took off down the street and into the alley where he’d left Cleon’s car.
He abruptly ducked below the dashboard when Lilah appeared at the alley entrance. Shit. But she just jogged by, not looking his way. She was faster than he remembered.
He pulled on a cap, tugging the brim low to hide his eyes, then cautiously pulled out of the alley in time to see Lilah jog around the corner of the next block. He realized she hadn’t gained any speed at all. She’d merely shortened her route by going around her immediate block.
So she can stay near Jazzie. Ma wasn’t kidding when they said they’re keeping the girl close. Shit. He hoped Lilah didn’t interfere with Ma bringing Jazzie to the park later. He was running out of time.
At least he had more information now. The equine therapy was run by Maggie VanDorn and the therapist was just out of college. Taylor Dawson should be easy to find. College kids had the whole social media thing down to a science.
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Sunday 23 August, 5.55 A.M.
Taylor crept down the stairs, trying not
to make any noise. Sunday was Maggie’s day to sleep in, and she wanted the older woman to get her rest. It wasn’t quite dawn, the house and the land quiet and still.
She got to the kitchen door without making a sound, then muffled a startled yelp when the floor behind her creaked. She whirled, her fisted hands reflexively coming up to protect her face, then shuddered out a breath at the sight of Ford in the doorway to the living room.
His hands were up too, palms out in surrender. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
Taylor sucked in another breath, pressing one fist to her chest where her heart raced. Then the breath she held slowly seeped from her lungs. Ford was shirtless and shoeless, his hair tousled and his unsnapped jeans riding low on his lean hips.
He was . . . golden. Simply golden, his skin kissed by the sun. She’d known he was solid – she’d felt it when he’d held her the night before. But this . . . Oh my God.
His chest was perfectly muscled and lightly furred, the blond hair narrowing to a treasure trail that disappeared behind the zipper of his jeans. Which bulged. A lot. She swallowed hard.
Wow. Just . . . wow.
‘Um, thanks?’ he murmured, and her eyes shot up to his face. He was blushing, and in another hard beat of her heart, so was she.
She crunched her eyes closed, wishing she could run back upstairs and start the morning over again. ‘I said that out loud,’ she muttered. ‘Didn’t I?’
‘Yeah.’ He sounded amused, so she took a chance and opened her eyes in time to see him fastening the top button of his jeans and pulling them an inch higher on his hips.
Damn.
‘Okay.’ She cleared her throat, forcing her gaze back up to his face, where one side of his mouth lifted in the smallest of grins. Which would be the only thing small about him.
Taylor! Well, it’s true. She bit back a sigh. Hell.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, desperately trying to regain at least a shred of her dignity. She looked past his shoulder to the living room, frowning at the pillow and blanket on the sofa. ‘Did you sleep there last night?’