by Claire Adams
I’d started to wonder if there was someone on Dean’s security team feeding that woman or Izzy or whoever information. There had to be some kind of weak link or else I never would have been threatened in that parking lot.
Ames had been working with Dean’s security for a while, before I came along. When the team’s presence became overt, I definitely remembered Ames being there from the start. Like the rest of the guys, he mostly stayed out of the way, but he had barely even looked at me before I agreed to help that nameless woman. That night, though, he almost seemed like he was trying too hard to be on my good side. That’s how you get people close enough to give you what you want, right?
Naturally, it was also possible the guy was just doing his job and maybe had a soft spot for a woman in an apparently embarrassing situation. Worst case scenario, I’d just sent a man who worked for my boyfriend a text from his own number, reading, “RU my guy? Meet me in the bedroom.”
I shut off the phone so he’d see the new message when he turned it back on—a process which was likely to take longer than it would be for me to get out of the car and on my way inside the house.
The door creaked open and Ames slithered in. Shutting the door behind him, he whispered, “We don’t have a lot of time. Faustina told me you came around. What do you need?”
It was more than I’d hoped for: I had my own man on the inside now, too. “I need to see Dean, but it has to be just me and him and none of your guys can know where we’re going.”
“We have no time. If you’d let me know sooner, I might have been able to put something together for you, but—”
“It has to be tonight, do you understand? No excuses,” I snapped. “You know what’s at stake.”
He scratched his head. “The best I could do would be create a diversion so you can slip out the back way, but you’re going to be on your own as far as transportation.”
“Give me your phone.” He did. It took half a minute to find the number of a cab company and another minute to schedule a pick-up in ten minutes three blocks away. “Do you know how to contact Faustina?” He nodded, and I handed him the phone, saying, “She’s going to want an update from me later tonight. There’s a good chance we put this whole thing to rest very soon.”
He said, “I’m not supposed to give this to anyone, but just make sure you delete the number after you’re done.” He put in the number.
He handed the phone back to me, and I put it in my pocket. “I’ll get this back to you, but I might need it in case Dean has trouble getting away. Now give me a minute. I really do need to change out of these pants. It’s water, by the way. I’m not an animal.” That last part wasn’t necessary, but it made me feel a little better. “Give me two minutes and then get everyone around the front of the house.”
“Faustina’s lucky she picked you,” Ames smiled. “I had no idea you had it in you.”
“Go.”
He went, shutting the door behind him. I got changed as fast as I could, but the commotion started before I had my fresh pants on and zipped. I turned off the light to my room and peeked through the blinds.
Two men were running through the backyard toward the front, and I waited for them to pass out of sight before I slid my window open and climbed out onto the ground below. I wasn’t built for distance running, but I cleared the backyard faster than I’d thought possible. Adrenaline is a hell of a thing.
I climbed over the cliché picket fence separating my brother’s yard from his back neighbor’s and took off again, not slowing down until I was safely on the sidewalk. I promised myself I’d get in better shape and just kept moving until I’d gotten to the corner where I’d told the cab to pick me up. It was already waiting for me when I got there.
Out of breath and sweating, I got into the car, giving the driver directions to where Dean and I were to meet. As we pulled away, I couldn’t help thinking it was too easy, but what reason would anyone have had to distrust me?
We pulled up to the hotel and I got out, having paid the driver. This was our hotel, our suite. They’d figure out we were here eventually, but I had to see Dean while it was just the two of us—even if it were only for a few minutes.
The woman at the front desk recognized me and told me, “Your party is waiting for you in the suite.” I didn’t bother with a key. I just headed straight to the elevator.
It had to look real. It had to look like Dean and I just couldn’t stand not being able to be alone together, so that when his team did arrive, nobody would ask too many questions. I told myself I was making this too complicated, but I had to make sure I’d covered all my bases.
When I got up to the room, Dean let me in. Before the door was closed, my arms were around him and I was pressing my lips hard into his.
“I’ve missed you,” I told him, pulling away.
“What’s this all about? Why did you need to talk to me alone? If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you just come over?” he asked.
“I needed to make sure nobody would overhear,” I said. “Things are bad, Dean. You’ve got to do what they’re telling you to do. Just get this over with and they’ll leave you alone. This can’t be cost-effective for them.”
“You don’t know how much money I’ve given these people over the years,” he said. “I’d say they could keep it going for a while.”
“Really?”
“I’m still going to call my team and let them know where we are,” he said. “They don’t even have to come in here, but I’m not going to have them chasing us down all night or calling the cops or something.”
“It’s bad, Dean,” I told him. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be safe or how much longer Luke or you….
“Just give them what they want and they’ll stop. You and them will have to part ways after you do, anyway. You have a big, bright spotlight over you. Once you testify to the parole board, they’re going to want to stay as far away from you as they can or else they won’t be able to get back to whatever else they’ve got going.”
I knew I wasn’t being very convincing, but it was a hard 180 to pull. “They still have reach,” Dean said. “Yeah, I doubt Izzy’s going to be inviting me over for vino anytime soon, but he’s not the only guy. Besides, I can’t let the man who killed Jenna and who’s been behind the threats against you, me, and your brother—I can’t be the reason he’s back on the streets.”
“I’m just so scared!” I was laying it on too thick and I knew it. I tried crying the way I had back at the gas station, but that didn’t remotely work, so I just buried my face in Dean’s chest and pulled him close to me. “I can’t keep going like this,” I told him, my voice muffled. “I just can’t!”
“Hey,” he said. “I know it’s hard, but—”
I lifted my head and kissed him. His eyes went wide as I pushed him backward toward the couch. He fell shoulder blades first on the cushions of the couch, and I was on top of him a second later, ripping open the front of his shirt and kissing him from his neck, over his chest and down over his abdomen.
An hour later, Dean was passed out in bed and I was wrapped up in a bathrobe, getting a drink from the mini-fridge. Before he fell asleep and before I’d caught my breath, he did put in a quick call to the head of his security, letting them know where we were and that we were both safe. I wasn’t going to convince him that night, but at least I’d broached the topic.
I couldn’t pretend what I was doing was easy. Maybe things actually would work out and we’d all make it through this, but either way, I couldn’t sleep. This was the only way we had a chance. Still, it felt this evening like we were reconnecting and for a little while, all the complications just faded.
Dean was dead asleep when I walked back into the front room where my pants were. I found Ames’s phone in my pocket, and I pulled it out. Not wanting Dean to hear me and wake up, I went out onto the balcony before calling the number.
“Ames told me you lifted his phone,” the voice came. “I do hope you’re callin
g with good news.”
“Listen, he’s coming around, but I need more time,” I said. “It shouldn’t take more than a few days, but he’s not going to do a complete turnaround overnight.”
The woman sighed. “You have three days. Delete this number from Ames’s phone and destroy the phone. If you fail, you will be held accountable, just the same as your loverboy in the next room.” The line went dead.
I deleted the number and took the battery out of the phone. I’d gotten lucky the last time when I threw my own phone over the side of the building, but if I made a habit of it, at some point I was bound to hit someone or something. What I was doing was bad enough without any more guilt on top of it.
I went inside and slipped the phone back in the right front pocket of my pants, the battery in the left. Dean was sleeping as I walked back into the bedroom, but he stirred as I climbed into bed next to him.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re up. Where’d you go?”
It was dark, so I didn’t bother with a smile. I just kissed him on the forehead, saying, “I just had to run to the bathroom. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”
Chapter Twenty
The Hard Way
My three days were up and I was no closer to getting Dean to change his mind. I’d brought up the topic quite a few times, but every time I did, he’d just return with, “We can talk about it later.” He was trying to run out the clock, to get me through it by avoiding the conversation until it was too late. That wasn’t going to work for me.
Dean and I were out to dinner at Marfont on Fifth, and I knew my time was running out. I’d replaced my phone, but Ames, who I thought would be my go-between, had apparently been instructed not to interact with me anymore. Apart from telling me that, he hadn’t.
I was almost without sleep. What little sleep I had gotten was usually beset by nightmares of being chased or caught. That woman was in every single one of them.
“Are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice coming to me as a distant echo.
I looked up at him.
“You haven’t touched your confit.”
I looked down at my plate. I hadn’t touched anything. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m just a little tired. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back. I just need to splash some water on my face. This sweater is making me hot.”
Dean nodded his approval. I got up from the table and walked toward the back of the restaurant. This life was taking its toll. My greatest consolation was also my greatest fear: that this would all be over in a few days, one way or another.
Once I was in the bathroom, I went up to the sink and ran some cool water over my hands. Dean hadn’t said any more about his plan, yet he was still refusing to testify on behalf of the Monster. Whatever he was up to, it had him feeling confident.
“You try and you try to get people to do the right thing, but every step of the way, they fight you,” a woman’s voice came from behind me. I glanced up at the mirror. When I saw the woman’s reflection, I turned around, hands dripping all over the floor.
“I’ve been trying, but I need more time,” I said as I watched the woman lock the bathroom door.
The woman put her index finger to her mouth before checking under the stalls to make sure we were alone. Once satisfied, she walked up to me, a big smile on her face. As she continued to smile, I naturally began to mirror the expression. A moment later, though, her open hand came hard across the side of my face, almost spinning me where I stood.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was low, but harsh. “If this doesn’t work out, you don’t just get to throw your hands up and say, ‘Well, I tried.’” She grabbed my hair and pulled it hard, forcing me to turn my head. “Look in the mirror,” she said. “Look in the mirror!”
I turned the rest of the way around and did what I was told.
“Look at yourself,” she seethed. “Do you think I give a shit about you? The only reason you have a chance of living through this is you said you could get the job done, but I’m going to let you in on a secret. There’s a sliding scale for how bad this is going to be.
“Dean’s gone. There’s nothing you or he or anyone can do about that. We’ve passed the point where his money makes up for the trouble he causes. He’s done no matter what.
“You have a chance, Marcy,” she said. “But if you can’t do what you need to do, it’s not just going to be two bullets to the back of the head like it’s going to be with Dean, no. We take extra care to make an example of those who don’t come through on their promises, do you get me?”
“I get you!” I answered.
“Shh!” the woman said. “Keep your voice down or the game ends tonight.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”
“I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you have to threaten him or spread those meaty legs for him, but get it done. You’re going to call this number at midnight,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a card with a number scrawled across the back of it.
“If you fail, it’s over. If you don’t call, it’s over. If you succeed, but you call late, it’s over, you got me? This isn’t fucking horseshoes. Close doesn’t mean anything. You’re going to do this, and you’re going to do it tonight.” She finally let go of my hair. “Now,” she said, “clean yourself up before you get back out there, and do what you’re supposed to do.”
She moved to the door. I should have just let her walk out, but my mouth came open anyway. “Why is Izzy so important, anyway? Why go to all this trouble, risk exposure, possibly even arrest just to get one guy out of jail.”
The woman didn’t turn around, but she stopped at the door. “Family’s important,” she said. “Keep that in mind when you go back out there. It’s not just you on the line—it’s your brother, too.” She walked out of the bathroom.
The door closed behind her, I turned to face the mirror once more, grabbing a few paper towels as I did. First, I dried my hands, then, I dried my eyes. My makeup was running, but I managed to clean it up for the most part. I looked at myself, saying in a shaky voice, “How the hell did I even get here?”
Leaving the bathroom, I made my way back to the table. Dean stood upon my return like an old-time gentleman, but as we both resumed our seats, he noticed something was wrong.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but the air got caught somewhere between my lungs and lips. When my voice finally did catch, it didn’t sound like my own. “Dean, just do what they want,” I told him.
“Marcy….”
“Please,” I interrupted. “I know you want to talk about this later, probably after the hearing’s already passed, but you just need to do what they want. I need you to do what they want.”
He set down his fork and looked me in the eyes. Tears were welling up, and this time they were very real.
“You’re shaking,” he said. “Did something happen?”
“Just please do what they tell you to do, Dean,” I told him. “I know it’s painful, and I know you hate even the idea, but you’ve just got to—”
He held up his hand and I stopped. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you really need me to do, for you, Marcy, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Izzy the Monster
Dean and I held hands as we walked into the police station. Izzy’s hearing was a half hour away, but the courthouse where the hearing was to be held was only a few blocks. In his free hand, Dean was carrying a manila envelope: the evidence. There was a big part of me that wanted him to stop, say he couldn’t do it, and turn right back around, but I knew this was our only chance to ever be safe again.
Dean had called ahead to let the detective who led the case against Izzy know we were coming, that we had new evidence regarding the case. So when we got up to homicide, we were waved straight through to the office of Detective Monroe. Dean knocked on the door.
“Ah, Mr. Carrick,” the aging detective with the bushy salt-and-pepper mu
stache said, getting up from his cluttered desk. “I understand you have more evidence in the Iozzo case. Cutting it kind of close. I was just getting ready to head on over to the hearing.”
“You may not want to do that,” I said.
The detective turned to me, asking, “I’m sorry, you are?”
“This is Marcy Blair, my companion,” Dean said. “And, she’s right. I will have to testify at the hearing based off of this information, but I have a feeling you’re going to want to take a look at this stuff immediately. It’s going to change the entire disposition of the case, and I didn’t want you to be shocked when my testimony comes out.”
“Well, I appreciate all that, but as the lead detective on the case, it really is my responsibility to—”
“This is a nice office,” Dean interrupted.
The detective stopped talking and looked at him.
“Really. It suits you. Do me a favor and at least take a look through what I’ve given you before you head over to the hearing. I’ll be there, and if you have any questions for me—which I imagine you will—I will make myself available to you. Here is my phone number,” Dean said, handing the detective a card. “It’s a private number, not to be shared with anyone. Right now, you are the only person who has it and I expect you to keep it that way, do you understand?”
I could hardly believe he was talking to a police detective that way, but having a lot of digits in a bank account means you can get away with all sorts of things.
“Mr. Carrick,” Detective Monroe said, “you’ve been a great friend to the police and to this city. If you say there’s something in here I should see before the hearing, I’ll look through it, but I can’t skip it entirely.”
“That’s fine,” Dean said. “Once you’ve had a look inside, I have a feeling you’re not going to need much more to get started.”