One way or another, he was going to get her back—tonight.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nick stood, resting his forehead against his bedroom door for several minutes. He’d never been as nervous as he was at that moment, knowing the woman who’d touched his soul hid fuming on the other side. This wouldn’t be easy. In fact, considering Kelsey’s tenacity, it would be one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. But there was no question that she was worth it.
Summoning his courage, he finally rapped on the door. “Bright Eyes, can I come in?”
“Get the hell away from me! And don’t call me Bright Eyes!” she barked from the other side. The door had no lock. He hesitated whether to enter, but he was already in deep shit. How much angrier can she get?
She sat on the side of the bed, one leg curled underneath her, hugging a pillow against her chest. She snapped her head up when he barged in.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked as she stood from the bed and backed away.
“We need to talk, Kelsey.”
“So you just walk in? What if I wasn’t decent?”
“It’s my room, baby,” he said with a leer, “and I’ve already seen everything you’ve got.”
“You’re a pig.” She threw the pillow at him.
Nick dodged the projectile and stepped a bit closer. He paused, making note of how beautiful she looked despite everything she’d been through. “We need to talk. I want to explain everything.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Then just listen, okay?” He remembered how she’d apologised for not hearing him out when in the hospital. “No matter what you think of me right now, don’t I at least deserve the opportunity to explain? Just listen, and when I’m finished, if you still want me to go to hell, I’ll get out of your life forever.”
She looked at him with a scowl, but didn’t kick him out. He took that as a good sign.
“Please, baby?” he whispered, seeing her face soften as she looked at him. “If I ever meant anything to you, just give me a few minutes. Please?”
He stepped towards her as she backed into the chair, almost flinching from him. “Don’t get near me. I’ll listen. Nothing more.”
“Thank you.” Nick walked to the window and checked the lock. Rounding the bed, he did the same to the opposite window. It was an obvious stall, but he had to gather his courage.
“Well?”
“I just want to make sure the windows are secure, Kelsey. There’s still a threat out there, and I don’t know where he is.”
She folded her arms across her chest and sighed disgustingly as her stare burned a hole straight through him. He let out a chuckle when he saw her pose. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Any reason I should?”
He sat on the edge of the bed, facing her so that their knees were separated by only inches, but their minds were worlds apart—something he was determined to rectify.
“Kelsey, I’m not who you think I am.”
“No shit.”
“Actually, I should rephrase that. I haven’t been as open with you as I could’ve been… Or wanted to be.”
“You lied.”
“No, I never lied,” he insisted. “There were things I couldn’t tell you. Some were for your safety and some were because I just couldn’t. But please know that I never lied to you, about anything.”
“Oh, please,” she groaned.
“Baby, you keep rolling your eyes like that and I’ll have to get an eye doctor over here.” He shifted forward on the bed, wanting to be a little closer to where she sat. If he reached out, he could have touched her, but he kept his fingers firmly intertwined and resting in his lap.
She crossed her legs and swung them as far to the side as the chair would allow. Her body language was very clear. She wanted no part of him.
He had to ignore her attitude and keep pushing forward. “I work for the FBI, Kelsey. I’ve been working undercover to infiltrate the Gianelli crime syndicate for three years.”
Her mouth opened in shock and her shoulders dropped. It was obvious that he now had her full attention.
“I guess the only way to really explain everything is to go back to the beginning.” He hated even thinking about it, much less talking about it, but she had a right to know everything.
“I told you about my family, but I stopped short of the whole story. My father, Chuck, was a drunk, abusive son of a bitch. For as long as I can remember, he beat my mother black and blue almost every day. He’d hit her with his fists, his belt, or even random objects he’d pick up while she scrambled away from him in tears,” he explained, his voice faltering as the memories flooded his mind. “It’s a miracle the woman survived, especially since she provoked him more than once to prevent him from turning on us kids.
“As I got older, I got bigger. I was an early bloomer and before I knew it, I was almost as tall as the bastard. I started pushing him. I’d sometimes say things just to try to piss him off. I wanted to divert his attention away from my mother and put it onto me.”
“How old were you?” she whispered.
She’d turned towards him in her chair and her arms were now in her lap.
“I was thirteen when it started.”
“Did he hit you?”
“Eventually, yeah. Mama tried to stop him, but when he was drunk, she was no match for him. When she nursed my bumps and bruises, she’d apologise over and over again, as if she was the one who was supposed to be getting hurt, not me. She didn’t realise that I wanted him to hit me instead of her. There were nights I would stay awake, wondering if the next hit was going to be the one that killed her.” He leant forward, resting his forearms against his thighs, his body suddenly feeling the weight of his emotions.
“So what happened?”
“Shortly after my fourteenth birthday.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dared say the words out loud. “I got home from a night out with friends and found Chuck beating on my mama. She was wearing a thin robe that was spotted with blood. He’d just got done raping her.”
“Oh my God,” Kelsey barely whispered. She laid her hands on top of his.
“He was yelling at her in the kitchen. Apparently, he wanted something to eat and she wasn’t moving fast enough. He didn’t seem to care that he’d broken her arm, only that it was preventing her from doing as she was told. She was sobbing and holding her hand against her body, trying to keep it away from his blows.”
“What did you do?”
“I grabbed a knife from the block on the counter,” he said, emotionless as he stared straight ahead, “and I drove it into Chuck’s back. The bastard dropped to the floor like a sandbag.”
Kelsey gasped in shock.
Nick continued, oblivious to her reaction. “Billy, my brother, had called the cops before I got home. When Chuck got into his moods, Billy would protect our little sister, Emily, by taking her into his room and hiding. When he heard the commotion, he’d called nine-one-one, but they were too late. Chuck survived long enough to hurl a few more insults at us and tell me he hated my guts before they took him away on a stretcher. He died in the ambulance.”
“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
He scoffed and lowered his head. If I had a dollar for everyone who said that to me when I was a teenager… “I guess you’re wondering why I told you that story, huh?”
She must have remembered she was supposed to be angry because she cleared her throat and sat back in her chair. “Well, now that you mention it.”
“After the cops showed up, I was taken into custody. It didn’t take them long to put all the pieces together and I was released to my mama’s care. The DA refused to press charges, determining it as justifiable homicide. But the investigator, he took a liking to me. He kept in contact with me after the investigation wrapped up. He encouraged me to finish school, took me to ball games. He was even t
here the night of my senior prom. He was like the father I never had, and I loved him for it. I was close to his kids, too. We became like an extended family.”
“What was his name?”
“John Fota. Because of him, I got interested in police work. He taught me a lot about it and even let me hang around the station where he worked. He made me want to be a cop, and I wanted to make him proud. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to see me in uniform.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed in the line of duty…by Vincent Gianelli.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ronald took one last look at the papers, making sure every ‘I’ was dotted, every ‘T’ was crossed, and all appropriate signatures were in place. Ms Langer would demand no less, and there was no way this gangster was going to get away on a technicality once they finally had him in custody.
He pulled out his holstered radio and began the final check-in. After he was sure everyone was in position, he sent one last message to Tim, telling him they were set.
* * * *
Tim stood at the front door of the massive estate, knowing the culmination of all his hard work was about to pay off. He reached into his shirt and pulled out his father’s St Michael the Archangel medallion that he’d worn since the day his father had been killed, and kissed it. With a racing heart and a steady hand, he pressed the small button in the middle of the computer panel, signalling his arrival.
“May I help you,” the elegantly dressed butler asked as he answered the door, confusion on his face.
Tim held up his badge and in a commanding voice bellowed, “FBI. I’m here for Vincent Gianelli!”
As expected, the house immediately shifted to high alert. Tim watched as the butler gave him a polite smile, explaining that Mr Gianelli was out of town, and men scurried in the background. When pressed, the butler quickly slammed the door shut, signalling the battle was about to begin.
Policemen and FBI agents descended on the house from all sides. Ronald, Faith and Tim were among the group that stormed the front door. The intelligence gathered beforehand helped them to know exactly from whom and where to expect the resistance while forcing their way into the foyer of the magnificent home, led fearlessly by a very anxious Tim.
He forged ahead once the area was secure, one goal in mind. Trusting his back-up would protect him, he wasn’t concerned about potential threats by the time he reached the ornate doors of Gianelli’s office. In a flash, he’d slammed them open and now stood only feet away from the smug and defiant gangster who’d changed his world.
“Vincent Gianelli,” he called out as two uniformed officers flanked the heavy desk chair where the kingpin sat.
“TJ?” Gianelli questioned, the shock and confusion showing on his face.
“My name is Timothy John Fota,” he said, anger dripping from every word. “You recognise the name, you son of a bitch?”
“Should I?” Vincent arrogantly leant back.
“John Fota was a highly respected detective with the Fox Grove Police Department. He stumbled upon an exchange between you and one of your associates while investigating a homicide, and you killed him,” Tim sneered before looking over his shoulder to where Ronald stood.
Ronald pulled the document out of his coat pocket and happily handed it to Tim, who then slammed it on the desk in front of Gianelli. “I’m here to make sure you never see the light of day again. There’s a warrant for your arrest, asshole. You’re coming with us.”
The men flanking Vincent pounced as soon as the mobster stood. With his arms secured, the game was finally over. The residual commotion continued in the background—crashes, shouts, and the occasional gunshot—but was losing steam as the team trained and assembled for these types of situation quickly cleared the rest of the house.
When the moment came, Tim was startled to see very little fight from the man who’d left a lifetime of carnage in his path—the coercion, the prostitution, the drugs, and countless murders. Gianelli had his hand in virtually every aspect of the underworld and didn’t care whom he’d had to hurt along the way. Now here he was, surrounded by uniformed police officers, seemingly accepting his fate with no show of emotion. Tim had expected him to go down shooting, but he wasn’t disappointed to take him in one piece. Let the bastard rot in a rat-infested prison cell for the rest of his life. He deserved no better.
“What? No final words, Vinny?” Tim taunted.
Gianelli stood stone-faced. The officers tugged on his arms, guiding him towards the awaiting police cruisers outside.
“Oh, and Vinny, one more thing,” Tim called out when they reached the office doors. “Nicholas Jensen is my partner, so make sure you thank him for your new accommodations the next time you see him, huh?”
He got a surge of pleasure from the angry snarl on the mobster’s face when they dragged him out of the front door. They threw him in the back of the paddy wagon with the rest of the goons and henchmen they’d picked up in the process of the battle—those not being taken away in ambulances and body bags, anyway.
Tim knew he had days of interviews and a mound of paperwork ahead of him, but he’d never felt as fulfilled as he did in that moment. “That one was for you, Pop,” he said as he turned and followed the rest of the officers out through the front door.
* * * *
It had been hours, but Anthony hadn’t moved from his position in his car. The only thing he’d seen at the house was a middle-aged man arriving home who, after a change of clothes, had begun to mow the lawn. He should have seen something by now and his gut told him this was all wrong. He scrolled through his text messages, wanting to see if he’d missed anything, becoming more and more irritated as the seconds ticked by. When he found nothing he dialled his contact. “What the hell?” he barked when the man answered.
“It’s not a good time, man,” the contact whispered.
“She’s not at the safe house, Conrad.”
“Look, man, all hell is breaking loose right now. Gianelli was busted. We had two men undercover there, not just one.”
“What? Who were they?”
“I can’t talk right now,” Conrad whispered. “I’m in a maze of cubicles at FBI headquarters and surrounded by curious ears.”
“Who was undercover at Gianelli’s?” Anthony screamed, his fury rising.
“I’m not sure of the second, but I know one was Jensen.”
Suddenly, Anthony heard voices screaming in the background. “Hey! Who are you talking to? Get off that phone!”
When the line went dead, Anthony ended the call. “Jensen, huh? You always have been a pain in my ass. Looks like I need to finally get rid of it.” He put his car in gear and pulled away. He wasn’t sure where Jensen was, but he was going to find him.
* * * *
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry you lost John. How long ago was that?” Kelsey asked softly.
“It was when I was in the academy. I guess I can be happy that he knew I was in training to be a cop,” Nick said with a sad smile.
“And then you got hurt,” she said a bit more firmly, wanting to know more of the story. She still had no idea what had transpired to make him kidnap and hold her for days.
“Yeah. Then I got hurt,” he repeated, bowing his head, “and began my downward spiral.”
She sat motionless, not saying a word. She tried to remain cynical, but the more he opened up, the more her anger subsided and her heart went out to him. Still not ready to forgive him, she clung desperately to her resentment.
“I dropped out of the academy and lost myself. I drank too much, fought too much, hustled too much. I hung out in the worst kind of dives and just didn’t give a crap about anything. I was pissed off, I was bitter, and I was out of control.”
“So what happened?”
“Tim happened.”
“Tim?” As she spoke the name, the memory returned. Nick had called the man with the amber-coloured eyes, Tim. “He was the one who was holding me.”
&nb
sp; “Sometimes,” Nick responded.
“What?”
“We’ll get to that, baby. Let me tell you about Tim first, okay?”
“Fine,” she said, a little too brusquely. “So what did Tim do to help you?”
“Well, I told you I was in a bad place.”
“Yes.” Again, despite her best intentions, she was inadvertently warming up to him.
“Tim came to see me. He’s John’s son, and as close to me as my own brother—probably closer. When he saw how I was… How I was living my life…” He paused with a sad chuckle.
“What did he do?”
“He slapped me back to reality—literally and figuratively. He made me realise that John would never have wanted me to become what I had.”
“Is that when you joined the FBI?”
He nodded. “Tim had been an agent for a couple years and said it would be a perfect fit for me. He’d been assigned to the Gianelli case and convinced me to go undercover to help nail the bastard. With the lifestyle I’d been living before he approached me, it certainly wasn’t a stretch for me to play the degenerate bum.”
“And you’ve been undercover ever since?”
“After some training, yes. I’ve been part of Gianelli’s organisation for the last few years.” He shifted closer. “A few months ago, Gianelli began talking about getting a cop on his payroll. He’d mentioned it before, but he started to focus on one in particular.”
“Bart.”
“Yes, Bart. He found out about Bart nabbing Romano.”
Kelsey remembered the pride they’d all felt when Bart had received his commendation for the arrest of Ernesto Romano. Bart had insisted it was mostly luck—right time, right place—but he’d deserved every bit of praise that had been heaped on him. He had been especially touched by the tribute their older brother had given to him. Ronald wasn’t easily impressed.
“Anyway,” Nick continued, “as soon as I realised who Gianelli was after, I volunteered to work on him. I explained the history Bart and I shared and told him it would work in my favour.”
“So where do I fit in this?”
Unexpected Consequences Page 23