Mom and I would act as helpful test subjects. They’d even pay us for our ‘participation’. I sure hoped she didn’t catch on.
The next item on the agenda was my mother. Garrett pulled out my phone. It had been in my purse, which sat beside an overnight bag he must have packed for my emergency visit.
After explaining my wounds were a result of a freak hayride accident, and getting a recap of her day, mom reluctantly let me get off the phone. But only so I could leave the hospital to get some rest. I didn’t want to keep news like this from my own mother, but we agreed it was best for her safety as much as mine to hide the truth. Mom offered to come back early, but Garrett assured her I was in good hands until she could return.
“Are you sure about this, Mattie?”
“Yeah, I’m fine mom. I love you. Say hey to grandpa, and Aunt Eileen.” I tried not to cry after we hung up.
I really wanted to go to sleep and forget this ever happened. Instead, I sucked it up and asked Garrett to help me get home.
After the full wheelchair treatment, Garrett carefully lifted me to the car, and locked us inside. As we neared the parking garage exit, he stopped to talk. He stared for a couple seconds, which made my pulse shoot up and my cheeks flush, although I wasn’t sure he could tell because of the bruises Ruggiano and his goons left on my face. Garrett pulled off to the side before we got to the ticket booth, and I caught the woman inside the booth shaking her head at us.
When I looked back, Garrett was analyzing me. Hair, eyes, bruises, and when he got to my mouth he leaned toward me.
“I need you,” he whispered so intensely close my lips felt his. My eyes started to soften as I waited for his passionate kiss. “I need you,” he said again, and brushed his lips gently across mine, “to stay out of trouble.” My heart flipped. He sat back up into his seat and maneuvered the car to the pay window.
I caught the lady in the booth laughing. She handed Garrett a receipt and shook her poufy head of hair at me. Probably enjoying the show.
The turn signal indicated we were heading the opposite direction from home.
CHAPTER 22
Normally, I’d be thrilled to be in a hotel with Garrett. But I just couldn’t get happy about it with all the pain and unanswered questions.
How did Ruggiano get inside the funeral home? Why did he want the key to Chloe’s if he’d already broken into her apartment and tossed the place? Who was Sultan? And what did my father have to do with any of this?
Garrett hit the elevator button. He hadn’t said much since we left the hospital. I didn’t make much of an effort to talk either. The silence was nice.
We moved through the hallway. Garrett focused on the destination, and me, mindlessly following along wild with questions. He slipped the card into the reader and got a green light. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the lock click.
The hotel door swung open and we entered a spacious living area with a couch, large screen TV, end tables and lights. I walked in and sat my bag on the coffee table.
The door closed and latched into place. Garrett threw the deadbolt and did a walk-through. I accompanied him and sized up the sleeping quarters.
This was my room. Garrett had purchased an adjoining room to keep me safe, although, it also felt very intimate.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah, just tired.”
“Do you want to talk, or get something to eat?”
“I’d rather grab a hot shower and order room service, but thanks for the offer.” I could hardly believe I was sending him away. A conversation, much less a relationship, was not going to work for me tonight. I needed rest, and to be alone to figure some of this out on my own. At least it’s what I told myself. I was scared of taking things further with him when I felt so vulnerable. My life at this moment felt like equal parts confusion, exhaustion, and fear.
“No problem,” Garrett said. “I’ll probably unwind a bit. Just let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be right through that door.” He pointed to the adjoining door with the key card still in his hand. “Cal has to take your statement. But he’ll come later. Is that okay?”
I nodded even though it hurt to move.
Garrett smiled sweetly and left.
I sat on the bed and stared at the door between us for a while. Would he come back? Did I want him to? I imagined Garrett walking through the door, pulling me into his arms and kissing me—not letting up until we both collapsed. I let the fantasy take over for a few minutes.
Channeling our chemistry warmed me until a cold blast from the air conditioner ruined it. “What on earth? Who turned on the air?” No one was there to respond. Annoyed, I turned the heater to high, and stomped off to the bathroom. Then I blasted water, adjusted it from freezing to scalding, stripped off my clothes and hoped for the best.
The water seared my skin. It felt good, but I shivered deep down. I stayed under the water hoping the warmth would reach my bones. My brain tried to analyze motives for murder, but gave up and wandered back to Garrett. I was warm in seconds.
Next up, clothes and food. On went stretchy pants, a tank, and a sweatshirt. I padded back to the bathroom to dry my hair and looked in the mirror. Everything about me screamed lonely girl about to throw back a $15 hotel burger and fries followed by a $7 piece of cake. Maybe I’d get some wine. Just then, someone knocked.
I walked to the door cautiously. The knock came again.
“Room service,” the voice said.
I opened the door knowing it was Garrett. He looked me over. At least I didn’t have on a housecoat with green gunk on my face, or curlers in my hair.
“You look like you could use a good meal.” He wheeled in a room service cart loaded with food: fresh fruits, breads, and cheeses. But, it didn’t stop there. There were crab cakes with remoulade, salad with shaved Parmesan, braised short ribs, and mashed potatoes, too. After the first cart, a hotel staffer pushed a second one right behind.
Desserts—jackpot! There were beignets, assorted cookies, and even a molten lava cake with chocolate sauce. My hunger was in overdrive. Suddenly, I was glad to have on my stretchy pants. I’d surely need them to enjoy this gourmet feast.
“My hero!” I couldn’t stop smiling as I looked at the food and Garrett. He paid the guy who had wheeled in a third cart with ice water, soda, and even hot chocolate, then left, while I drooled over the food.
“Ready to eat like a queen?” Garrett gestured for me to sit at the table and placed a napkin in my lap to serve me. “My lady, shall we start with an appetizer?” He waved his hand over the crab cakes.
“But of course,” I said, using my best fake French accent.
He laughed at my silly attempt. The tension of the day’s activities eased and we were in our own little world for a while.
Later in the evening, the discussion shifted to what happened with Ruggiano. We could have waited forever, but it was necessary since Cal would be over soon to take my statement.
Garrett apologized for being pulled away by Tess. Remorse showed on his face. I had suspicions, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. He admitted her call was partly a ploy to get him alone.
It was painfully obvious Tess wanted Garrett back, and not one part of me wanted to see that happen. But the alternative could be Tess manipulating Garrett, or worse, protecting Chloe’s killer. Garrett tried to reassure me it was one-sided affection. My head throbbed, so I changed the subject.
“Ruggiano and his goons were waiting for me. Inside.” An involuntary shiver raced up my spine.
“They either picked the locks, or someone forgot and left a door open.”
Or someone intentionally left the door open, something I didn’t want to consider. It would have meant someone who had access to the funeral home—my home—couldn’t be trusted. Garrett admitted he wondered the same thing. He planned to investigate, and handle the problem.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” He was concerned I might need to get it off my chest. Here’s
a guy who brought me food and wanted to talk about my feelings. He seemed too good to be true. “I went to counseling when I came back from the desert. It was the only way to deal with what happened over there.” Although he admitted to skipping a lot of sessions, the ones he did attend were “worth it,” in his words.
If a big, tough soldier like Garrett could find the strength to expose the demons, so could I.
As I spilled out details, the fear of being captive resurfaced. My body reacted like it was happening all over again. I felt trapped and helpless.
We had to stop until Cal arrived.
Cal reassured me, over and over, this was not my fault. But he had this look of anger and sadness on his face as he interviewed me, like he connected with my pain somehow.
I managed to pull myself together long enough to explain what happened. How the guys caught me by surprise—they’d been waiting for me—and knocked me out. Cal and Garrett traded looks when I mentioned Ruggiano.
Cal told me he thought Ruggiano might come after me, but didn’t think he’d show up in person. It shocked me more than anyone. Our best guess was he wanted to rattle me to the core—to scare me away from poking around. We discussed options, like pressing charges, but I knew my accusations weren’t going to bring him down the way he deserved, so we scrapped that option.
When I told them Ruggiano mentioned someone he called Sultan, Cal stopped me. “Wait. Tell me exactly what Ruggiano said.”
My eyebrows wrinkled up trying to remember the details. “It was something like, ‘I wouldn’t be in this position…if that Sultan scum,’ or something like that.”
“Explains the tattoo on the guy who jumped her earlier,” Garrett told Cal.
“You mean the sword?”
“It’s a scabbard,” Garrett said. “Sultan’s crew gets tattooed as part of their initiation. Steal something. Kill someone. Get a tattoo.”
“So, Sultan is involved,” Cal said.
While Cal and Garrett processed that information, I debated telling them Ruggiano also mentioned my father. These two had my back, and I knew it. But my dad was such an unknown to me it gave me pause. “Can I have a minute?” It was more of a statement. I excused myself to the bathroom.
I closed the door and paced. Then stood and stared into the mirror. I wondered where I came from. At least, where the half belonging to my father’s gene pool came from.
Pieces of our history flickered through my head, but it wasn’t much. A time when my father spun me around and jiggled me until I giggled uncontrollably—then the long years without him. He’d left when I was young. Silence deepened over the years he’d been gone.
This wasn’t helping. They were trying to help me. I had to come clean. I splashed some cold water on my face, patted it dry, and went back to tell them.
“My father,” I blew out a deep breath. “Ruggiano said something about me being like my father. That he was protecting someone. I didn’t understand what Ruggiano meant. But it might be something important.”
The guys exchanged another one of those wordless looks that worried me. Cal quickly changed the subject.
“Sultan is an even bigger gangster than Ruggiano. Ever since Sultan came to town, everyone’s paid him a percentage of their take on everything from girls to gambling and drugs. Or been killed.”
“Um…” I probably looked dumb just standing there, but I didn’t know much about gambling and casinos, much less guys named Sultan and Ruggiano, who may or may not have put a hit out on my friend.
“Ruggiano’s crew, the East Street Boys, and a couple other gangs all pay up to Sultan. Word on the street is Ruggiano is jealous. He wants control. And he’s setting himself up to make a play for Sultan’s territory,” Cal said it like I was supposed to know what it all meant.
Gang wars sounded dangerous, but how did Chloe fit into it?
“A power grab like that? Takes a lot of strategy, money and people. Perhaps, Chloe figured something out about Ruggiano that Ruggiano didn’t want anyone to know. As for Sultan? The guys in vice say he’s the big bad wolf. He’ll dress up like your grandma, invite you for dinner then eat you alive.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, and Sultan is tied to the casinos. He’s part of an investment group pushing new casinos all over this area. I think if you want answers about the casino deal, he’ll have them.”
“Then I should go see him.”
“You don’t just go see The Sultan,” Cal said. “It’s too dangerous. Besides, he won’t talk to just anybody. You need an intermediary, someone from the street who can help you get the intel you want.”
“How do I go about getting one of those?” I kept after it.
“Mattie, it’s too risky,” Garrett chimed in.
“I got an informant who says Sultan is being cautious because he thinks Ruggiano wants to make a move. Sultan’s already tight security was beefed up a few days ago. It’s got everyone freaked.”
“What can I do? I need information. I’ll go see him myself.”
“I’m telling you it’s a bad idea.” Garrett crossed his arms.
“Got a better one?”
“No.” I could hear his teeth grind when he clenched his jaw. He was not happy, but I wouldn’t back down. “This is the plan.”
“At least let me go with you.”
I thought about it for a minute. “Do you know him too?” As if Garrett knew all the mobsters in town. Maybe he did.
“Not personally,” Garrett said. “But you’re not going alone.”
Neither one of us would budge. Garrett could go in and back me up. Sounded good in theory. But in reality, I knew we were going into a very bad guy’s territory. I gave us a 50-50 shot at leaving alive.
There was no way I was going to tell my mom about any of this. She’d kill me for thinking up something so stupid. It felt stupid, but it seemed like our best option. Anyway, how bad could this Sultan guy really be?
“I can hear you,” Garrett said. He couldn’t. At least I didn’t think so.
Cal gave his opinion. “It’s risky. The Sultan used to be a henchman for Archie the Axe. And even Archie, named after an axe for Chrissake, thought the guy was nuts!”
“The look on your face says I can’t talk you out of it. Can I?” Garrett softened up and tried his best to charm me out of it.
“Nope.” I wanted him to use his charm on me, but not for this.
“Then I’d prefer to be there and help protect you—if it’s even possible the way you rush at danger head-on.”
“I’ll think about it.” I thought about it. “Okay. I may be crazy, but I know we’ll probably get more answers if we’re together. You can come as my back-up.” Big, muscle-y, handsome, back-up.
“Oh, so now I’m the sidekick?”
“Hey, at least you’re in the game,” I joked back, which got a laugh out of him. Bringing someone strong like Garrett might be the only way the Sultan would let me live long enough to question him.
“Will you reconsider?” Cal asked.
“I don’t think we have a choice.” I told him. “Sultan’s guys came for the key. Let’s give it to them, and see if we can get some answers.”
“Sultan’s guys didn’t hurt her when they came for the key,” Garrett added. “I guess that’s a good sign.”
“You still need to be careful,” Cal warned. “I’m not letting you two go alone. I’ll be there when you go in, and waiting to make sure you both come out alive.”
We didn’t argue with Cal. Knowing he’d be there reassured me. This might actually work.
“Now, what about Ruggiano? He wants the key too,” Cal said.
I thought about how to appease Ruggiano. “Maybe we can give them both what they want. I’ll call Chloe’s mom and see if she’s got a copy.”
“Okay, but why would they need a key when they could just break in?” It sounded strange to hear Cal talk about breaking the law, but he made a good point.
Someone, probably Sultan or Ruggiano, had alread
y broken into her apartment. Why did these guys both still want the key? Maybe there was a third party who had broken in, I didn’t know, but we had to find out. My head ran in circles then started thumping. I rubbed my temples trying to make the ache go away.
“Mattie,” Garrett said. “You need to rest.
He was right, but it didn’t make me happy to have to lie down in the middle of all this.
I’d have to tell Cal about Tess later. Garrett and Cal went next door to talk things over and I reluctantly went to bed.
My head throbbed until exhaustion won out. Then I felt nothing.
CHAPTER 23
Later that night I had the strangest dream. The native man I’d seen dusting bodies in the field before was standing near a bunch of slot machines this time. He picked up a bucket and poured rust colored paint over one of the machines. I reached out to touch the cool, wet paint as it flowed over the machines.
The man did it over, and over again, until the one-armed bandits looked like they were melting. He said something in another language right before the machines exploded. I ducked as millions of coins and bits flew past. The man noticed me, but didn’t speak. He bent down and scooped up some pieces. They fell through his hands, but changed into a waterfall.
Water flowed into a lake beneath the man’s feet. He shifted and showed me one remaining piece. It looked like Chloe’s key. The man closed it in his hands, then cupped his hand over mine, and gave it to me. When I looked down, I didn’t see the key, only the keychain. It broke apart and red ochre oozed from it. Before I could ask the man anything, I was jolted awake by a noise.
Only bits of dream remained when I sat up, so I curled back up and tried to get comfortable. I couldn’t sleep. It didn’t help that I had a gut full of food. Could my strange dream have been triggered by indigestion?
The left side of my head hurt, so I took a couple Tylenol, drank some water, and went back to bed. Around three o’clock my eyes popped open again. I lay there a while.
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