Zane (The Powers That Be, Book 6)

by Harper Bentley

  “Oh, my God. Do you think Chet’s working with them too?”

  “I don’t think so. All I can say is I’m keeping an eye on things. If I can nail Antonius and his gang, it’ll bring down a huge RICO charge on them big time.”

  “So you have been investigating Rusty this whole time.”

  He shrugged looking as if it wasn’t a big deal.

  “And you’re in the habit of lying,” I stated a little snottily.

  He narrowed his eyes. “When did I lie?”

  “To Chet! When you acted like you didn’t know this Theo guy.”

  “Babe.”

  “Babe what?”

  He chuckled. “I have to do my job and sometimes it involves lying by omission.”

  “So on our first date when I was telling you about my roommates, you already knew I lived with them?”

  He blew out a breath, his face hard and the jaw tic was back. “Yeah.”

  “What else aren’t you telling me?” I was pretty angry about all this. I mean, I’d watched cop shows and stuff, so I knew they couldn’t say a lot to people, but actually knowing someone who was doing that very thing and to someone I’d been living with was weird. Was this where I was getting the feeling Zane was closed off? Maybe. But I didn’t think that was all of it. My intuition had me sensing something different. Something more personal.

  He ate the last spoonful of his chili and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “There’s nothing else, babe. Promise.” He gave me his lopsided grin making my heart skip a friggin’ beat at how handsome he was. “Why don’t we go see a movie?”

  I stood and took my bowl to the sink to rinse and load in the dishwasher. “When?”

  He followed me. “Tonight.”

  “I can’t tonight. Izzy and I are doing something.” I took his bowl from him and rinsed it, feeling his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.

  “Can I ask what you two are doing?”

  “Can I lie by omission?” I looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

  “Can I fuck it out of you?” His eyes burned gold.

  When he lunged for me, I squealed and ran out of the kitchen toward my bedroom hollering, “You have to catch me first!”

  He caught me.

  And I loved every second of it.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “Why don’t you pack a bag and when you and Izzy are finished, you come stay with me? I’d feel better if you weren’t here in case Rusty comes back,” Zane proposed.

  He’d just made me come two times and we were now lying in bed catching our breath.

  In a climax daze, I muttered, “He already came back.” I kissed his shoulder.

  He suddenly pulled back looking down at me. “Come again?”

  “I’d love to. Why don’t you make me,” I said with a snicker.

  “Rusty was here?” he snapped.

  I frowned. “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  “Maybe an hour before you got here? I didn’t really check the time.”

  He jumped up and quickly pulled his pants on then left my room. What the heck? I got up and yanked a t-shirt down over my head then went to see what was wrong. Light was coming from Rusty’s old room again, and I walked down the hallway to see what the matter was.

  Zane was in the closet feeling around on the walls and looking up over the shelf. He knelt down and moved a hand along the baseboard then stopped, pulling part of it off. He moved his head down to look into the hole he’d revealed before sitting back on his heels.

  “Fuck!” he yelled making me jump.

  “What?”

  He stood and grabbed me by my upper arms getting in my face and saying angrily, “Why didn’t you tell me he came by?”

  “I-I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “Of course it fucking matters! Why do you think I’ve come by or stayed here all these times?” He released my arms then stormed out of the room, shouting, “Goddamn it!”

  Confused, I followed him to my bedroom, watching as he hastily pulled on his shirt then sat on my bed to put on his shoes and socks.

  “What were you looking for in his closet?”

  While he bent to tie his boot, he glowered up at me. “A gun that can implicate him in a crime that happened several years ago.”

  “Oh. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  He didn’t say a word, just stood, grabbed his suit jacket, walked into the living room, seized his coat off the back of the couch and left, slamming the door behind him.

  I jumped again at how loud it was then going to the window, watched as he backed out of his parking space then peeled out of the lot.

  Damn.

  Chapter 17

  “Same thing as last time,” Izzy said at eleven thirty that night as we followed Rusty who was going the same route as before.

  She’d shown up at my apartment just after Zane left, just in time to catch me crying.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I told her what happened. “He was so mad, Iz. I’ve never seen him that mad before.”

  “It’s not your fault, Jilly Bean. He just took it out on you is all, the jerk.” She handed me a tissue. “Give it an hour. He’ll realize what he did then call, apologizing his ass off for acting like that. Just wait.”

  “It’s not like I hid Rusty’s gun then remembered and said, oh, by the way, here and handed it to him. I had no idea it was here!”

  My phone suddenly rang.

  “If that’s him,” Izzy stated, “you should let it go to voicemail. That’ll teach him to be an ass.”

  “I’ll just answer.”

  “Babe. I’m sorry I acted like a dick. This wasn’t your fault. I was frustrated because I had a feeling the gun was there but I didn’t know where. I’m sorry I yelled at you, baby. I really am. You forgive me?”

  I sniffed. “You really scared me.”

  “I know and I’m sorry. I was pissed and I took it out on you.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve got something going right now, but when I’m done, I’ll text you. Or you text when you and Izzy are done and we’ll go from there. All right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  After I hung up and felt much better, we dressed in our super sleuth outfits again, my black hoodies. Then we hit the road in her car, I was driving, of course, and since we had no idea where he was, she was tracking his phone with the program or app or whatever the hell it was through her phone, both of us in total spy mode. We sat a couple houses down from a small house where her phone showed he was and waited. Thirty minutes later, he came out, got in his pickup truck, left and we discreetly followed.

  The only difference in our surveilling of him this time was we could now hear him. He made one call saying he was on his way and the rest was the stupid country music he listened to, which explained a lot.

  “It’s a known fact that most psychos listen to this shit,” I murmured.

  She laughed. “No, it isn’t.”

  I looked at her and grinned. “You’re right. ‘Lose Yourself’ by Eminem is actually the psychopath’s national friggin’ anthem.”

  She started rapping the lyrics which made me snort because she was really bad.

  “I should do rap battles, huh?” she said with a giggle.

  “Uh huh. I have a feeling your sweater would constantly have spaghetti on it, though.”

  “That was pretty bad.”

  “I know. It’s the country music making me dumber,” I claimed.

  “Where’s he going now?” she asked when we saw Rusty turn onto a residential street.

  “Shit,” I muttered, turning also and slowing down.

  When I saw him pull in front of a house, I pulled into a driveway and turned off the headlights praying the homeowners weren’t home.

  We saw Rusty get out of his truck and go to the front door hearing him knock over Izzy’s phone.

  “Got the money?” Rusty asked.

  “Yes,”
what sounded like an elderly man said.

  “Get it, Gramps,” Rusty hissed.

  “Dick,” I whispered.

  “For real,” Izzy whispered back.

  A moment later, Rusty said, “Don’t be late again.”

  We saw him walk back to his truck and take off down the street, so I backed out and followed once again. He made two more stops collecting money before taking off for Fishermen’s Terminal.

  “This is kinda scary,” Izzy said.

  “I know. I’m gonna end up with spaghetti, or chili, on my sweater. Maybe we should go home.”

  She looked at me. “We’ve come this far.”

  “I guess.”

  We ended up at Fishermen’s Terminal as predicted, parked in the same lot as before, got out and walked to the lot he’d also pulled into the time before. Izzy had plugged her earbuds into her phone so we both could listen, each of us with one bud in an ear, as we sat behind a Camry listening.

  “Tell Theo he owes three-hundred-fifty grand this time,” a man said.

  “I’ll bring it on the last load as usual,” Rusty told him.

  We knew he was back in the truck when the atrocious country music started again, and after he left the lot, Izzy and I ran back to her car and left. We didn’t see him on the highway but she tracked him to the market where, sure enough, his truck was parked and he was unloading barrels.

  “That’s some expensive fish,” I said.

  “Must be caviar,” Izzy added.

  We only semi-chuckled because good lord. What was he transporting in those barrels?

  The trips happened two more times. And we followed.

  Before he left the market to get the last load from the Terminal, we heard him call someone and tell them the price. He then went inside the market and came out several minutes later with a gym bag, which he threw into the passenger side, then he headed back to the docks.

  We didn’t get out of the car the last time, only listened to the exchange and found out when the next drop-off would possibly be. And when we heard the last conversation, both our mouths dropped open.

  “You get rid of those AKs, I’ve got some grenade launchers coming that Theo might be interested in,” a guy said.

  “I’ll let him know,” Rusty replied then got into his truck and left.

  “Holy fuck. He’s running guns,” I declared as we left the lot.

  “And grenade launchers too,” Izzy tacked on.

  “Damn.”

  I took off out of the lot we’d been in, driving past the dock where Rusty had made all his deals, seeing a bunch of men unloading more barrels and wondered if there was actually fish in any of them.

  We’d just rounded the corner when I slammed on the brakes because there was Rusty’s truck pulled across the road as if he’d been waiting on us, which he had, because he came out from behind it holding a gun at us.

  “Oh, fuck,” I uttered as I put the car in reverse but saw another truck come flying up behind me.

  “Oh, my God!” Izzy said as I slammed on the brakes again seeing a man get out of the truck pulled sideways behind us approaching with what I thought was an AK-47!

  Then everything went freaking crazy. I’m not kidding, from out of nowhere, about thirty police cars suddenly showed up, lights flashing and boxing us in, surrounding us and going into the lot where Rusty had been. Suddenly there were a million cops jumping out of their cars, hiding behind their doors and holding their guns at us.

  Holy shit.

  “Drop your weapon!” I heard someone scream, then shots rang out from all over the place.

  Izzy and I screamed and huddled down as low as we possibly could in the floor of her car.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes! You?”

  “I think.”

  There was a tap on the window and a guy said, “Come out with your hands up!”

  “Oh, my God!” Izzy said again, and I noticed tears running down her face.

  “Okay!” I screamed and we both sat up slowly with our hands up to show them we didn’t have any weapons.

  Suddenly my door was jerked open and Zane was yelling at me. “What the fuck are you doing here? You could’ve been killed! What in the goddamn fuck is going on?” It was then I realized I was crying too. Gah! “Hold your fire!” Zane yelled and pulled me out of the car by my arm. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed in my face.

  Another guy brought Izzy around to stand by me and that’s when I really started bawling.

  “We were following Rusty,” I said between sobs. “We wanted to catch him in whatever bad thing he was doing.”

  Zane ran his hands over his face and up through his hair pulling on it. “You could’ve been killed! Jesus Christ!”

  I was shaking so hard now I thought I was going to pass out, and it was then I realized Izzy had her arms around me and she was shaking like a leaf too.

  “Pope!” Zane called, disgustedly slapping a hand down at the side of his thigh.

  Robocop (Yay) showed up asking, “Yes, detective?”

  If I’d been in the right state of mind, I’d have laughed at his subservience to his former partner and told him, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” But as I thought about it, I realized Zane hadn’t really been his partner. He’d been training him. Then I wondered if I’d put the leftover chili in the fridge.

  Funny how the brain freaks the fuck out when you almost get shot.

  “Take them to your car and don’t let them out of your sight,” Zane growled, giving me a mean look that kind of hurt my feelings.

  But under the circumstances, I guess I had it coming.

  When Robo started pulling a pair of handcuffs off his belt, Zane yelled at him too. “Don’t cuff them! Fuck! Put them in the back of your goddamn car and don’t let them leave!”

  Still shuddering as we held each other, Izzy and I followed Robo to his patrol car which was parked in the lot, where he held the back door open for us to get in, shutting it behind us.

  “I’m sorry, JB,” Izzy cried. “I didn’t think we could get hurt.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m just glad neither of us is hurt.” I reached out and held her hand, squeezing hard.

  We watched all the cops milling around the scene, seeing them walk men by whose hands were in flex cuffs behind them. We saw the guy who’d pulled in behind us lying on the street and heard sirens in the distance which were probably from an ambulance. I picked Zane out of the crowd and saw him talking with other suited guys who I assumed were fellow detectives.

  “This is crazy,” Izzy mumbled.

  “Well, I think your boredom’s been cured.”

  Her voice hitched when she said, “I think it’s cured for the rest of my life.”

  Robo was leaned up against the driver’s car door talking to another officer then he got in.

  “Fuckin’ cold out there,” he said, starting his car and turning up the heat.

  “I-is that guy dead?” Izzy asked.

  “I don’t know. Might as well be, though. His life is over,” Robo replied.

  I hadn’t seen Rusty anywhere, so I inquired, “Is Rusty Stewart hurt?”

  “He was in the black truck?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think he might’ve taken a bullet to the leg.”

  Another cop got in the passenger side just then. “Fuckin’ cold out there.”

  “No shit,” Robo answered.

  “Powers got his man,” the unknown officer said and my ears perked up. “Been tracking him for almost two years now. That Stewart’s a real piece of shit, I heard.”

  Zane had been tracking Rusty for the past two years? What?

  “Thought he closed in on him once but had the wrong guy, he said, so he started over again,” Passenger Cop said. “But once he made detective, he had all the resources which helped.”

  “He told me something about Stewart once. Did you know Powers was gonna go pro in baseball until this guy screwed him over? Powers said he w
as at a party one night when Stewart broke into the old woman’s house next door. Roughed her up pretty bad, then shot her in the leg just to be a dick. He stole jewelry, TVs, computers, anything else he thought was worth something. Powers got fingered for it because he and Stewart look a lot alike. The old lady even picked him out in a lineup. By the time prints were run and the DNA was tested and Powers was cleared, I guess it was too late. All the team managers had heard about the situation and none of them wanted him, too much bad publicity. Ended his pro career like that.” Robo snapped his fingers.

  Oh, my God. Poor Zane! Rusty had taken his dream away from him.

  God!

  I understood his tattoo now: The truth will out. The truth had definitely been outed.

  “I heard about that. Fuckin’ shame. Heard he was a damn good player too.”

  “Stewart was brought in, though. Powers got his name from someone who said they’d seen him in the area, but they couldn’t make a clean print or DNA match or find the weapon and he walked.”

  That’s why Zane wanted Rusty’s gun, so he could nail him for the crime that took away Zane’s professional baseball career. God. This was all so sad.

  Robo shrugged. “Then Powers found him shacking up with some blue-haired chick that Powers had banged a couple years ago,” Robo shared with a chuckle.

  Izzy and I looked at each other with big eyes, first of all because Robo was talking about me, and second, he didn’t recognize us or know I was me. My now lavender and light-blue hair was tucked inside my hood and didn’t give me away as the “colored-hair chick,” nor was I wearing my glasses like I’d been at the snowy protest so he wouldn’t know me.

  “Said he was gonna use her to get to Stewart.”

  What?

  What!

  I think my heart died at that very moment. Or I died. Whichever. Because my whole body had gone numb.

  “No shit?” Passenger Cop mumbled.

  “Yep. Said she was easy. Fucked her in a bar bathroom to finagle his way in. Oh!” He snapped his fingers again. “I remember he said she walked out on him when they’d first met and didn’t even leave a number or nothing. He said this was payback.”

  Oh. My. God.

  Oh my God!

  Izzy squeezed my hand and I looked over at her, tears stinging the backs of my eyes.