Dark Deeds

by Anne Marie Becker

  “Dirty cops, you mean?”

  Becca’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

  “It’s okay. I had to take money to appear I’m on their side, but I doubt that’s why Eve’s doing it. We’ll talk with Eve and straighten this out. This is slander.” Diego couldn’t stand the thought of Becca being hurt by James Powell again, this time from the grave.

  “It’s not slander if it’s true.” Becca’s voice was resigned.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this and make it right before tomorrow’s post.”

  “What does it matter what else she’ll say? My career, my life, my family...they could all be ruined with this innuendo. Just like yours would be by being associated with me.”

  Diego couldn’t stand the despair in her eyes. He reached out and cupped her cheeks, feeling the sting of cold. She must be freezing, but her thoughts were obviously far from here. “I can help.”

  “Nobody can help. They couldn’t then. You can’t now. It’s time to tell my family. After we talk to Tony. This day just gets better and better...”

  Monday, 2:45 p.m.

  Metropolitan Correctional Center

  A guard led a shackled inmate into the room and secured his handcuffs to a bar on the table, ensuring Tony Moreno couldn’t touch them.

  Tony grinned widely as he spied Becca sitting across the table. “Well, if it isn’t my little spitfire.” He spit at her and the guard lunged, but Becca held up a hand. The saliva hadn’t hit her, anyway, and she was made of sterner stuff.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve survived worse than sitting across from this asshole, though his stench might be my greatest challenge yet.”

  Tony laughed at her provocation. “You’re all talk, little girl. You haven’t seen anything yet. I’ve got friends. They’ll take care of me.”

  “Friends? In your chosen occupation, there’s no such thing.” There was no honor among thieves or thugs.

  Tony leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his voice as if imparting a secret. “There is in the Circle.”

  She hid her surprise. “And what would you know about an organization that’s been defunct in Chicago for years?”

  “I know that’s why you’re here to talk to me. A certain someone has promised me a lifetime supply of cigarettes if I share what I know with you.” His gaze slid to Diego. “And only you.”

  “So, share. You can start by telling me who this certain someone is.”

  “Uh-uh-uh.” Though cuffed, Tony shook a finger back and forth. “You don’t get his name until you give me something.”

  “I could just get a look at the visitor logs.”

  He smirked. “Be my guest. My fan is smarter than that. He’s got a fake ID. Disguises himself, too. He’s pretty smart.”

  Fan? It seemed her fan wasn’t hers, and hers alone. “What do you want?”

  “Cigarettes. He promised you’d bring cigarettes.”

  She looked at Diego and shrugged. Diego pulled out his wallet. “I’ve got cash.”

  “Enough to buy a carton?”

  “Enough to buy two cartons if you tell us everything,” Diego promised, though it twisted Becca’s stomach to be doing business with this guy.

  “No deal. Cigarettes are a more valuable currency. And they have to be from her.” Tony leered at Becca. “I want her begging for what only I can give her. Come back tomorrow with three cartons. You might want to bring kneepads.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Monday, 7:25 p.m.

  Jefferson Park neighborhood

  Slipping behind the driver’s seat, Becca blew out the breath she’d been holding all afternoon as she and Diego left her parents’ home for the second time in twenty-four hours. “They took that well.”

  “They love you,” Diego said from the passenger side.

  She smiled, feeling weepy again. She’d shed enough tears while talking to her parents. Matt had canceled his evening meeting to be there, too, and then embraced her in a huge hug that told her just how relieved he was that her past was now out in the open. Years ago, Matt had helped shield their parents from news of Becca’s arrest. That her university was several hours away had helped, providing a buffer from the press hounds in Chicago. But Matt had been burdened with her secret, which had weighed Becca down with guilt. She couldn’t bear to think of doing the same thing to Diego if they were to have a relationship.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive?” Diego asked. “You look beat.”

  “I feel better than I have in a long time.” She shifted the car into reverse, but before she lifted her foot off the brake, she paused to look at him. “Thank you. It was...easier...having you here.” And it cost her everything to admit that. She’d held him back for so long. Letting him in was like exerting a muscle that wasn’t used to regular exercise.

  “You were there for me. I’m glad I could repay the favor.” Diego slipped into a thoughtful silence that allowed her to hide her thoughts as she drove them back toward the city. Unfortunately, the silence didn’t last long enough to get back to her apartment for the night.

  “We need the results of Sam’s exhumation,” Diego said. “If that’s Samantha’s body, this investigation into the Circle is putting you at risk for nothing.”

  “Where the heck did that come from?” She glanced sideways at him.

  “I don’t like the way Tony was looking at you.”

  She smiled. “Like I was the one who put him behind bars?”

  “No, like you were the one he’d like to visit first when he gets out. Do you know what he’d do to you?” The vehemence in his voice surprised her.

  “I know exactly what he’d do to me...the same thing he did to other women. He’s a misogynist who blames me for his fate. But he’s not getting out. Ever. Unlike James, he’s been sentenced to several lifetimes behind bars, without the opportunity for parole. More importantly, we need his information on both the Circle and the Fan.”

  He looked out his window, avoiding her gaze. “I’m well aware of that, but there are current investigations underway that are better prepared to handle it.”

  “And yet they haven’t gotten anywhere in twenty years.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. They just haven’t gotten to the principal, the head of the snake. We need to catch him if we’re going to shatter this organization.”

  “And if it really was Samantha’s body that was recovered all those years ago and laid to rest, that doesn’t mean the Circle didn’t have something to do with it.”

  They were near her exit on the freeway. Becca glanced in the rearview mirror as white light filled the interior of her car and bounced off the rear—and side-view mirrors. An oncoming car was gaining on them.

  Diego turned in his seat. “Pickup truck. Bearing down fast and doesn’t look to be letting up.”

  “Think he’s drunk?”

  “Driving pretty straight to me.”

  Yeah, that was what she’d thought, too. Straight toward them.

  “Do you have your gun?” Becca asked. “Mine’s in the glovebox.”

  His face was hard with determination as he removed his weapon from his ankle holster and checked the ammo. He did the same with her gun and set it near her hand. There was nobody else she’d rather have by her side, no better partner. He knew the risks, the danger, and how to face it head-on.

  “Is there a busy area around here?” Diego asked. “Maybe he’ll back away.”

  “The next exit is still a mile away.”

  “Get there as fast as you can. We’ll try to lose him there.”

  As if the driver of the pickup heard them, he swerved suddenly into the left lane. But instead of passing them, he drew up along Becca’s side of the car. That was when she saw what he aimed in their direction. They weren’t the only ones who were armed.

  “Gun.” Becca spoke with calm as her training took over.

  “Affirmative.” Diego took out his phone and dialed 9-1-1 with one hand while the other held h
is pistol, but Becca was between him and their pursuer.

  Diego identified himself to the operator and requested assistance, giving their location. Becca doubted they’d be there in time. The truck beside them was determined to keep pace. In the dark, she could only make out certain features of the driver. From the light and shadow, she’d guess he was a bald man with facial hair and wide shoulders. The truck’s cab was higher than her little car. The angle would be to their disadvantage if Diego needed to defend them with gunfire. But then, maybe the driver couldn’t shoot at them, either. There were no other cars within a hundred feet, but Becca didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt.

  The exit was just up ahead. At the last possible moment, she pulled into the exit lane, but the truck braked and swerved into place behind them.

  Diego unbuckled his seatbelt and swiveled in his seat to look out the back. He faced front again, and adjusted his side mirror for a better look, then pointed to a grocery store parking lot. “Over there. We’ll get lost in the crowd and hopefully, he’ll give up. It’s too risky for him.”

  But Becca didn’t pull in. They were in her neighborhood now, and she knew an empty lot where there’d be as few people as possible.

  “What are you doing?” Diego asked. “He’s gaining on us.”

  “At least he won’t go on a shooting spree in a crowded area.” The street here was one lane in each direction. It would keep him behind them.

  Unfortunately, their pursuer didn’t mind a challenge. With no oncoming traffic, he pulled alongside them. A loud pop sounded as shards of glass from the backseat window on Becca’s side went flying. One winged her cheek and she felt a slice of pain.

  “Get down!” Diego tried to press on the back of her neck so that her head was lower, but she had to see to drive. She peered just over the steering wheel, looking for a safe place to escape.

  “Returning fire,” Diego warned. “I’m going for the tires.” He steadied his arm against her seat and aimed, but their pursuer let off his gas pedal to fall behind.

  It wasn’t a reprieve. He swerved and rammed her door with his front right side. She gripped the wheel tighter and managed to keep control of her VW. But the impact on her door set off the air bags, which released with a suddenness that had her head slamming back into her headrest. Thick, warm fluid flooded her left eye, stinging and blurring her vision. She blinked it back, closing the eye when the irritation continued.

  “Brakes or gun it?” She could barely see, though the air in the bag was deflating. Her left side hurt. Her neck ached. And her head was throbbing.

  “He’s backing off.”

  She pressed on the brakes and steered the car toward the side of the road. As the airbags deflated, she shoved them out of the way and saw the rapid flashing of blue-and-white lights as a CPD SUV pulled alongside them.

  “They must have scared him away,” Diego’s voice, so calm and deep, flowed through her like a river.

  “We’re safe, then?” She put the car into park and slumped in her seat. “You might want to take over for this next bit.” She was reaching for her seatbelt when the blackness hit her.

  Monday, 10:27 p.m.

  Mercy Hospital

  Diego watched Becca as she dozed. God, he hoped she was just sleeping. It was late and she’d been through a rocky few days, so she should be sleeping. Unfortunately, she’d had a lapse of consciousness for a minute at the scene of the accident, so the doctors were keeping an eye on her.

  Even when awake, she’d been quiet for the past couple hours as they’d waited for the ambulance, waited at the hospital for the doctor, waited as they stitched up the small gash at her temple and tended to the bruises that were starting to bloom on her left arm, and waited for her to be released.

  So much goddamn waiting.

  He felt like he’d been spending most of his life waiting for her. And he would continue to wait, if only he could be sure she wanted him to.

  He rubbed his hands down his face. They both needed rest. The past four days had been packed with adrenaline highs with little recovery time.

  Fuck. It should have been him driving. The rational side of him reasoned that the driver might simply have pulled alongside the passenger side to take his shot, if it was Becca he was after, but then she would have had a better angle for defending them against their assailant. From what he remembered, Becca was a damn good shot.

  “You’re getting wrinkles.” Becca’s voice stimulated yet another rush of chemicals into his system—this time endorphins from his immense relief.

  He reached out and brushed his fingertips over a spiky lock of her hair, smoothing it down. Like Becca, it refused to stay put. “Yeah, probably gray hairs, too.”

  She touched the bandage at her temple, then winced. “Does it look that bad?”

  He huffed out a humorless laugh. “You had blood all over your face and head, and blacked out. Your skin was cold. You were pale as death.” For one long, horrible moment, he’d thought she was dead. He hadn’t dared to move her, choosing to wait for the paramedics in case she had a neck or back injury. The police officer who’d been the first on the scene had humored Diego by repeatedly checking her pulse to assure him she was still alive.

  Her hand closed over his on the edge of the bed. “Were you having flashbacks to...”

  “Natalee? No.” He supposed that was progress, but he’d had a flash forward to a future without Becca and it was bleak enough to scare the shit out of him. Later, when he could organize a coherent thought again, he’d figure out what the hell those feelings meant. For now, he swallowed to ease the tightness of his dry throat.

  “That’s good.” Unaware of the tumult inside him, Becca smiled softly. The smile disappeared as her eyes widened. “You didn’t call my family, did you? I don’t want to worry anybody.”

  He felt the sudden urge to throttle her. To make her aware of exactly how worried he was, how helpless he’d felt. About her. Not because of his past, but because it was...her.

  “I didn’t call them,” he said. “But only because the doctor assured me there was nothing life-threatening, and I figured you’d been through enough today. That you wouldn’t want to have to explain this to them, too.”

  “Thank you. At least they left me dressed,” she said as she swung her feet over the side of the bed.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She looked at him like he was missing a few cookies from his cookie jar. “Home. And we need to get cigarettes and set up an early meeting at the prison. If the Circle did this because we were talking to Tony—”

  “Wait just a goddamn minute. First, I already called Damian and he’s arranging with the prison staff for a special meeting with Tony first thing in the morning. Second, you were hurt so bad you lost consciousness—even if only for a minute, it was scary as hell—and now you’re thinking of jumping back into this investigation with both feet, blindfolded?”

  “You’re angry?” She seemed surprised, which only made him angrier.

  “I learned a thing or two about you while you had your little siesta.”

  She licked her dry lips. “What did you learn?”

  “While the doctor stitched you up, I took a look at your medical history. You were brought in with a head injury before, from which you also lost consciousness. And there was another time you had a couple cracked ribs—”

  “Nobody hurt me that time, that was my own f—”

  “You don’t seem to put your safety first, almost as if you don’t care. But I do. I care.”

  She snapped her mouth closed. She might be speechless, but his body was shaking like a train gaining speed. He’d been holding this in for too long, and he was just getting started.

  “Your file is an inch thick,” he said. “They might as well have a revolving door at the emergency room marked exclusively for Becca Haney. Do you have a death wish?”

  She stood suddenly. At least she seemed steady on her feet—feet she shoved into her b
oots. She reached for her jacket.

  “You’re really leaving?” Frustration gnawed at his gut. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

  The doctor’s arrival saved Diego from pleading with her to find her sanity. “Well, I see the patient has regained consciousness.”

  “And stubbornness,” Diego added.

  Becca’s chin jutted up as if in illustration of his point. “I’m ready to go home. I feel fine.”

  The doctor smiled indulgently. “That’s because we injected the area around your wound with a numbing agent. You’ll probably have a hell of a headache when it wears off.”

  “I’ll take aspirin as directed. Now, may I go?”

  Diego was wasting his breath, and his eye-roll. She wasn’t even looking at him.

  The doctor’s pleasant demeanor turned serious. “This is the third time you’ve had a head injury in the past two years.”

  “That you know of,” Diego muttered.

  “I’ve always been fine right after.” Becca’s gaze moved between the two of them warily, like a caged animal. “There were no complications.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t be different this time.” The doctor turned to Diego. “But she hasn’t lost consciousness again since the accident.”

  “She was unconscious just a minute ago,” Diego pointed out.

  Becca put her hands on her hips. “I was resting. I’m tired, and my own bed is just what the doctor should order.”

  “Now that she’s conscious,” the doctor said, “I’ll have the nurse check her vitals one more time. If she’s okay, I’ll send her home, provided you stay with her overnight. She needs someone with her in case she has complications.”

  “I’m right here.” Becca waved her hand. “You can talk directly to me.”

  The doctor turned to her. “Yes, I know, but I deemed him the clearer thinking of the two of you. At least at the moment.”

  Monday, 11:35 p.m.

  Becca’s apartment

  With her car impounded as part of the investigation, Becca and Diego took a cab back to her apartment. She was still fuming about Diego’s handling of her as if she were a child, but as he tenderly helped her into the building, she realized her anger was a façade, holding her together until she could collapse on her own. The memory of that gun aimed at her, of the window shattering and the crash...she’d been scared. In that moment, she’d wondered if she’d live, or, worse, what she’d do if she did survive, but Diego didn’t.